by Seth King
Curious
(adjective) – eager to know or learn
Seth King
Copyright © 2017 by Seth King
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”
-Albert Einstein
“I know I may be young, but I’ve got feelings too – and I need to do while I feel like doing. So let me go…and just listen.”
-Britney Jean Spears
for my parents.
the ones I was born with
and more importantly
the ones I chose
~
and for J, about whom I wrote this book
thanks for the memories
and for the nights on my trampoline, too…
Inspired by a true story
Prologue
“So how does it feel to have a dick in you for the first time?”
I shift my hips a little and let out some air. To be honest it doesn’t exactly feel euphoric or revelatory or any of the other adjectives they use to describe your first time having gay sex – but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It just feels…different.
“It feels…weird,” I pant. “Hold on. Be still. Let me get used to it. You’re so big…”
I swivel my hips around to find a better position, and – wow. Something locks in, and suddenly it feels good. Very good. Euphoric and revelatory, maybe. There’s one spot in particular, and every time he rubs against it, it sends a crazy ticklish sensation up my core that makes me feel like I’m hurdling through heaven…
Wait, is this a G spot?! Is this what women have been preaching about my whole life? If so, I am officially a believer…
“It feels so good,” I moan, my voice sounding somewhat pained. “I almost wish your cock was a little smaller, though.”
“Why?”
“Because I think I can feel you all the way in my stomach.”
“That’s kinda hot. Ready for me to fuck you now?”
“Yeah, just…slow. Please.”
And so he starts thrusting into me, filling me, slowly-but-surely making me crave more of him like nothing I’ve ever craved before…
“What’re you laughing at?” he asks, really giving it to me now, making me moan involuntarily.
“I don’t know,” I groan. “Isn’t it just kind of funny that a few days ago we were friends, and now we’re, well…doing this…”
“Funny how things change,” he smiles, sinking deeper into me, and activating nerve endings that I didn’t even know were there.
“And you know what else is funny?” I ask, out of breath, ever the chatterbox. “At the beginning of all this, you said we’d stop being buddies, and start being something more, the day I found your dick in my ass. I guess that day is here…”
He laughs as he pounds me, giving me a burst of his sweet breath in my face, and for a moment I try to recount how I even got to this place. Ugh, this was supposed be so simple. It was supposed to be easy. A few days of no-strings-attached hookups in paradise with my best friend, who happened to be hot as July – where could we go wrong?
The beginning, actually. The beginning was where we went wrong, and every moment after that was probably a mistake, too. A sublime mistake from heaven and hell. Because the sex turned out to be good – too good. Explosively, addictively good. And so it led to other things, other curiosities. First I was just curious about his legs, then I was curious about his ass and his abs, but now I’m curious about his dreams and his nightmares and his soul and his future, too, in a way I never was before as his “friend.” My best friend in the world is now responsible for all of the light in my eyes, and I have no idea what to do about it, because to lose him would be like a sledgehammer to my entire existence…
Suddenly the door of the hotel room flies open. Panic slides into my mind like lightning as I remember that in my haste to finally get fucked, I forgot to close it all the way – and it’s all my fault. One horrible moment of dread settles into us, and then with Beau’s dick still buried deep inside me, I turn and lock eyes with our visitor as he stops in the entry hallway and stares right at us…
And who is “our visitor,” you ask? The very last person in the world who should be here right now.
That’s who.
Nathan Sykes
Earlier That Month
My girlfriend dumped me on a Friday. Five words, one sentence: I can’t do this anymore. Just like that, like I was a too-old pack of salmon she was throwing out of the freezer. And because salmon rots and stinks, she was doing away with me immediately: she wasn’t even giving me the decency of one last weekend. Then she essentially ghosted me, deleting me on every platform I could think of. She couldn’t even have slept over until Sunday brunch, and then given me the ax on Sunday night? She had to do it on Friday? I mean, really? A Friday?
And did I love her? I don’t know. That wasn’t the point. I liked her a lot, to be fair. (I think.) But were we swept away on a glittering road to forever? Maybe not. I still deserved more than a fucking text message, though, right? I give her months of my life, and that’s what I get in return? A text?
Sometimes I feel like nothing I ever do is right. If I come on too strong, I look like a psycho. If I’m too distant, they say I’m not interested and accuse me of cheating. It’s like there’s this tempo I can’t find, this groove I can’t slip into – basically dating feels like sitting on one side of a glass partition and expecting to connect with someone. How can we connect when we can’t even reach each other?
I spend a few listless hours feeling sorry for myself in a pile of blankets on my bed, cursing the world. Scrolling through my NewsFeed to fill my mind, I stumble across something I can’t look away from. And I don’t know why I can’t look away. The story has nothing to do with me.
But I open it and start to read it anyway:
BuzzFeed News
Kate Asher
Staff Writer
The End of Heterosexuality As We Know It?
Citing Online Dating Fatigue and Increasing Cultural Freedom, More Heterosexual Men Than Ever Reportedly Opting for “Straight Sex” With Male Friends
But that’s when I close out the article. This is just the media being stupid. It has nothing to do with my life, my situation.
I last about two seconds before picking up my phone and reading again:
It is well documented that societal lines are blurring, with today’s teens identifying as every shade of the gender and sexual rainbow – or sometimes refusing to identify as anything at all. (In a recent British poll, over one third of millennials described themselves as being bisexual or homosexual.) And today brings a new study showing that these lines that divide us are in danger of disappearing altogether. Nearly twenty percent of the “straight” men anonymously polled in Pew Research’s recent study on human sexuality admitted to occasionally having sex with their male friends, despite identifying as heterosexual. Their sex sessions were described as platonic, casual meetings, almost like a shake of hands or a hug between teammates. But stumped sociologists are still investigating what it means on a deeper level.
“Things just aren’t what they used to be,” says Josh (name changed), a junior attorney in his late twenties living in Brooklyn. “Finding a relationship is harder than ever, since women seem like they want to flit around in these dating apps, and never get serious with anyone. I work like a dog most weeks and weekends, too
, just trying to pay my rent and cover my student loan payments. So when I’m single for a long period of time, I’m not afraid to call up a buddy and fool around with him. He’ll come over, maybe watch ESPN with me and crack open a few beers, and pretty soon one of us will be on our knees. Or sometimes our backs. It all depends. And then they go home, and I go to sleep, and everything’s fine.”
“Do you think it makes you gay?” a reporter asks. “How do you relate this to your own personal sexual identity?”
“I don’t,” said Josh. “And I don’t care what it makes me. People don’t think in terms of that right now. If I want a physical release, I’m not necessarily going to care about where it comes from.”
“What would you call yourself, then?”
“Hmmm. Bored, horny, and curious.”
Again, I try to stop reading. Again, I am sucked back in:
According to Dr. Richard Murray, Columbia University sociologist, this trend is a rebellious response to the previous generation’s relatively oppressive views on sexuality and gender expression, as well as a side effect of evolving moral standards.
“These kids just don’t care,” says Dr. Murray. “Many of them describe feelings of being judged or persecuted by the adults in their lives, and they’re responding with a total lack of boundaries. The best thing we, as parents and grandparents can do, is simply step aside and learn to live and let live, because these things aren’t going to change – and actually, after studying recent trends, I foresee a future dating world where gender could be a factor on par with hair color or personality. Simply another detail…”
I shake my head, roll over, and try to find sleep. Needless to say, it does not find me…something is rolling around in my soul, and I don’t really know why, or even what it is…
I’ve always been straight – I think. But I never cared about what someone was, either. My parents are the staunchest of libertarians, and that’s how I was raised – stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours, too. It always struck me as troubling, America’s obsession with getting into someone’s mind and their bedrooms. If a kid at school walked in a certain and had too many female friends or listened to the wrong music, rumors would start, and he’d become a moving target. Who does he like? What are his deepest secrets? What label can we put on him? So while I’m straight, I’m not rigid in the ways that most of my friends were. But still, I believe that some people are just straight, and some are just gay. I think I’m just…straight, as boring as that sounds.
Aren’t I?
On Sunday evening, I stomp my way through the Waldorf-Astoria in Key West, where I’ve just arrived for a wedding getaway, desperate for solace and trying to sulk in peace. After I find an isolated hot tub/spa in the locker room that seems devoid of any other soul and will hopefully stay that way, I drop my towel, step into the Jacuzzi, and feel my muscles instantly unclench. I didn’t even want to come to this stupid wedding, but my friends are all rich, and when planning weddings, the financial situations of their friends are not exactly of utmost importance. And I’m a groomsman, so it’s not like I could object…
Anyway, that’s how I ended up having to pay eight hundred dollars for my share of this stupid weeklong wedding stay at the Waldorf. (And right now I don’t even want to think about the irony of having to watch my friend Grant marry his girlfriend Liz on Saturday. We’re the same exact age, and he’s found his spouse while I’m back to square one all over again. Wedded bliss for everyone except me – yippee!)
Just as I start to decompress, the door opens. My pulse speeds up for a second, as I’m naked and could’ve just been found by some kinky stalker or something, but I go calm again just as quickly when I see the body materializing through the mist.
“Ah, it’s just you,” I say up at Beau.
“Damn – hoped it would be empty, but this isn’t bad, either,” he shrugs down at me. He walks over to the bench and drops his towel, but then I do something curious – something very curious. After months and months of having my heart left behind by women, of having them walk away and lose interest and make me feel like shit, I glance at my friend’s dick.
And guess what? I don’t hate it.
I dart my head away just as he turns to me. “You don’t care if I get in, right?”
A shiver of something strange runs through me, then I shrug it off. “Nah. Fuck it, we have the same parts anyway, doesn’t make a difference.”
“Gotcha.”
As he walks down into the water, I try not to notice that his dick is far bigger than mine, and hangs down his leg like an eggplant emoji. Jesus. How did I never notice this?
The steam swirls as he sits across from me. So…I am stuck in a hot tub with a naked dude, and I’m naked, too. This is certainly different, even if we’re best friends…
“So what made you ditch everyone and come down here?” he asks casually after he dunks himself to wet his hair. “That game of football was pretty fun.”
“I could ask you the same,” I tell him as the water drips down his tanned skin. He glances away.
“There were…girl problems, with Megan.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. “What happened?”
He sighs. “She says she’s getting older and she thinks I’m not going to commit if I haven’t already, and she wants someone she can depend on, and yadda yadda yadda. I basically got dumped.”
“Are you serious? I just got dumped, too. That’s why I’m here – with vodka.”
“Really?”
“Yep, she called me the other day saying she’s been feeling insecure, she doesn’t know what she wants anymore since she doesn’t know what I want out of our future, bla fucking bla. I got the official breakup talk on Friday. I would’ve told you, but, you know, I guess we both got busy with our relationships…”
“True. We’ve barely spoken in days,” he says after a moment. “That’s unusual. And what are the odds we’d get dumped at the same time? I, for one, happen to think we’re great catches. We just have to find people who agree.”
“Ugh. Who knows, but right now I just wanted to sit in this hot tub and forget the fucking world. I brought some vodka in a water bottle, too – that should help. Want some?”
He stares at me, studying me, then finally nods. “Sure. Only after you, though. As you know, I’m only an alcoholic when I’m with good company.”
I swallow down a revolting shot, then hand it to him. As the vodka warms our bellies we both stare into the bubbling, frothing water, thinking, parsing, analyzing…
“Isn’t it funny how people just…cut ties when they don’t get what they want from you?” he asks after a minute. “Walk away and act like it was never a thing at all? Sure, I didn’t want to get too serious, but why does that mean I didn’t like her?”
“Do you even want me to get into this?” I ask with a laugh. “Because I will.”
He sets his jaw. “Go ahead, then. We never really talked too much about you and…whoever the latest girl was. Fill me in.”
I laugh a little, then lean in. “Since you asked…fine. I kind of fucking hate women right now. I’m not gonna lie. I do. I can’t believe she dropped me like it didn’t matter, like we were never anything, like nothing we did was important to her.”
“But aren’t you the one who wanted to stay casual?”
“Yes, but only because she was keeping her options open, and I knew it! In all the time we hung out, she never once deleted her dating apps.”
“Maybe you never gave her a reason to.”
“Whatever. I’m so sick of feeling like this, like I don’t matter, like nothing helps, like at the end of the day, no matter how many people I’m around, no matter how big the crowd is, no matter how many matches I get on my dating app, like I’m just….
We say the word at the exact same time.
“Alone.”
“Wow,” I say, and I think I see him shiver.
“Yeah. Megan said she wanted to get serious, too, b
ut I knew she was talking to other people the whole time. I mean, you do have a point – these apps have completely eroded our generation’s ability to love each other. Even when I meet a girl at a bar for a Tinder date, she’ll have Tinder notifications popping up from other guys right in front of me.”
“Exactly,” I say. “How can we focus on each other when we’re always looking over our shoulders for someone better? I was trying to explain this dating scene to my grandma last week and she just didn’t understand. She thinks guys still show up at the doorstep, ask the girl’s dad for his approval, then take her off for ice cream. I think she’d be shocked to know the truth…”
“That we all fuck each other and then get bored and move on and fuck someone else three days later?” he laughs. “That we can’t form anything meaningful because we’re all a bunch of commitment-phobes? Yeah, I think she’d be a little confused, too.”
“I think that truth-bomb deserves another shot.”
“Hear, hear.”
Really feeling a little tipsy now, I swallow more of the vodka and then hand it over to him. After another silence – this one more loaded than the first – I clear my throat. “Everything ends the same – we have fun, but we never get deep, and then suddenly it’s over. What’s the point of it all? Of being here on this earth, alive and alone? At this point, mixing sex and romance just doesn’t work. I almost wish I could just…disassociate the two, maybe have sex with someone without any attachments whatsoever. Just…a distraction, even a temporary one.”
A long silence passes, then he clears his throat a little. “You do have a point. The relationship part of it all was just getting so hard to handle, especially with all the other shit going on in my life.”