Friends United
Keywords: United, Friends,
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I'd been best friends with Brad since coming to the US from England as a child. We met at school and since those early years did everything together. He was very outgoing whereas I was passive. Now in our thirties we are still best of friends and even work in the same company. Brad loved motorcycles and ran a successful Harley Davidson parts distribution business. We where supposed to be partners but he made most of the decisions. Not many relationships last that long and involve spending so much time together. Neither of us had married. Brad was the more successful dater. With his large physique and good looks he had the choice of any woman. I on the other hand was not so well endowed. One could say rather slim and effeminate looking but despite our chalk and cheese looks nothing seemed to dampen our friendship.
We both lived in the same town and if Brad wasn't dating saw each other most nights. But despite this great friendship I wanted more. Over the years I had grown to respect him, even love him. I wanted to say so but with no known gay tendencies I risked such an omission would lose him forever.
One night he invited me back for a coffee after we had been out for a few beers - we weren't drunk but merry. We listened to CDs and sat on the same sofa while Brad flicked the channels of the TV, the volume turned down.
'We got to sort your love life out Tomi boy,' he said. 'You haven't laid a bird for months.'
I smirked and felt my face blush. 'I can't seem to find the right woman.' I said.
'Your trouble is you don't know what you want.'
I shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps he was right.
'Tomi, I think you're looking too far a field. We get on well, you want to find someone with my personality.'
My heart freezes and I can't help but look at him with sullen eyes.
He seems my response and looks at me strangely. I say nothing. A minutes passes in silence.
'You don't...,' he says as his mouth almost drops to the floor. 'You don't fancy me.'
I stare at him like a lost child and feel a tear welling in my eye well aware that our relationship was about to end. 'Got to go I say grabbing my coat and running for the door.
Brad rung the following day on my mobile but I didn't reply. I didn't even go into work. I couldn't face seeing him again even if he wanted to. I was in a terrible state. One that I don't like to admit - crying and missing him like a lovesick teenager. My world was torn apart. I was in pain racked with formidable emotional waves. Should I be feeling this way if he didn't see me in the same light? He persisted and rung again after work, I didn't answer. He knocked at my flat and I pretended to be out. I rung in sick. We didn't see each other all week.
That Friday I was at a loss. I had no one to see or nowhere special to go. I walked around the town, hands in pockets feeling sorry for myself. I mused over my situation - I made the break so I shouldn't feel this way and yet I felt abandoned, unloved. I gazed forlornly into the shop window of a ladies fashion boutique so fascinated by all the pretty dresses I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. Suddenly I felt two large hands clamped over my eyes - I thought I was about to be robbed.
'Guess who?' the deep voice growls.
It was easy. 'Hi Brad,' I say sheepishly expecting the worst but he made no mention of the other night. It was as if nothing had happened - I was delighted. He asked me if I was feeling better and he bought me a beer. I'm not sure what was more frustrating. Did I want him to confess to similar feelings or call me a fag and punch me in the face? But saying nothing about the other night was sheer torture.
Later that evening as we chatted and drunk another beer I asked him about his latest girlfriend, Donna.
'I ditched the bitch,' he said calmly. She got too possessive and I saw alarm bells. I haven't heard from her since.' He laughs, 'I've still got a wardrobe full of her stuff - panties, bra, shoes and dresses - the works. What woman does that? I'll miss the bitch.' he sighs, 'still plenty more fish in the sea.'
'I'm surprised,' I said, 'you two got on so well I thought you'd get hitched.'
Brad laughs again and scratches his groin in that masculine way.
'No worries. I treat women like library books - put them back when done.
'Anyone else?' I ask inquisitively.
'Funny you ask.' he grins like a schoolboy, ' I met another girl. Tracey, she was a stunner, long smooth legs, big tits, painted manicured fingernails and a tiny waist. Very similar to my old Donna, they could have been sisters. She had the looks and knew it she teased me on the night flashing her cleavage and showing off her legs in a skimpy tight skirt. Tight bitch accepted my drinks all night then refused to come home with me. I persevered, made another date but then she didn't bother to turn up.' He looked at me quizzically. 'I'm through with birds I think I need to find some other way of enjoying myself.' he gave me a knowing smile and clutched his growing groin again.
My mind went into overdrive. What did he mean? Was he giving me the come on?... Whatever I was determined not to make a fool of myself again so I remained silent.
Very little else was said, life returned to normal. Brad never mentioned my confession and I didn't bring up the subject ever again. But things did change between us. Slowly at first barely recognisable. He would touch me occasionally and... wrestle. We hadn't wrestled since school and though I enjoyed rolling on the floor with this big guy I was no competition as his great weight and powerful muscles always had me pinned defenceless. He would throw me on my back and straddle me like a horse resting his muscular knees on my forearms pinning my hands above my head with his hands. It was quite intimidating and yet I often got excited and I noticed when I looked up as he towered over me he had too. He wouldn't release me until I cried for submission. Did I like it? I loved it and Brad seemed to enjoy throwing his weight around being the master and though I never said it I loved being the submissive.
He began to flex his muscle by being more demanding by setting silly tasks. Initially his quests where quite minor. Get me a coffee, buy me a sandwich, order me a beer. I think my fear of abandonment made me behave in irrational ways. I bought into some romantic nonsense of 'happy ever after' and wanted to please so I obliged and this made him worse feeding his growing bossy habit like a drug. I should have refused but I felt he was testing me and I didn't want to disappoint. At work he began to delegate demeaning tasks to me as if I was some young junior and justify them to me in a patronising manner. He would make me stand in front of him as he told me my duties for the day. Then At the end of the day I had to report back and state the things I didn't do or did wrong and what I had learnt from them. He said it was for my own self-improvement and if they were fresh on my mind I'd be less likely to repeat the mistakes and I knew what to do the following day. It was all very demeaning. I never had a problem with time management or my work rate and yet here I was being watched like a school leaver. I was a conscientious worker. We had started out as equal partners but now the relationship was one sided and yet.... I never complained.
He became sure of his power over me and he became more manipulating. He even made me ask him for permission to go to the toilet when at work. I didn't object but he gave some cock and bull storey about one of us having to man the phones all the time. He was becoming a manipulator and I seemed powerless to stop him. Over the following weeks the situation went from bad to worse and I even began to doubt our friendship. I found myself washing his car, cleaning his flat, buying his weekly groceries, cooking and doing his washing.
The final straw came when one day I wasn't able to do my chores and he playfully spanked me with a wooden hairbrush. Instead of wrestling me to the floor he hauled me over his knee and spanked me. It was not too hard but just enough to let me know who was in control. It was humiliating and I told him so but he seemed undeterred as if to say 'so what!' As much as I hated myself he could tell by my constant little erections that I was enjoying the charade rather too much. From that moment on, ever so slowly my world began to change.
My life didn't seem to belong to me anymore and I wasn't really getting anything in return. On one rare occasion of showing some affection he bought me a bracelet. It was weird, made of silver, bit feminine. He called it a lucky charm bracelet and he insisted that I wore it all the time.
Brad still would date and I found it hard not to be jealous yet when ever I said I was going out he would put up an obstacle such as an errand or favour he wanted me to perform for him. Over time many of my friends became infuriated with Brad and his rudeness and consequently lost interest. This made matters worse as I now found myself dependant on Brad even more so.
It all came to a head when I had some painters in to decorate my flat. I know it sounds girlish but I hate the smell of paint so I asked Bard if I could crash at his that night. He wasn't particularly keen as he had a date - some new tart he'd picked up at a garage. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and agreed but made me promise to stay in the spare room and not make a sound. Apparently He didn't want to put the lucky lady off as he didn't think she would think well of him if another bloke was in his flat even if just for the night.
I got round his place about eight just as he was preparing to go out. He showed me to the spare room, gave me some rubber gloves and a duster and he told me to tidy it. It wasn't decorated like a conventional spare room but was sparsely furnished with just a single bed and a wardrobe. The walls where white and the floor was littered with boxes and, what looked like rubbish.
I found some spare sheets in the airing cupboard and made up the bed.
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Keywords: United, Friends,