My Mate Ben

I didn’t head out, I had a quiet night in. I was in bed sometime after midnight, more like 1am, after pissing around on my computer for most of the night.

My buddy Ben had been out and was ripped, when he rang my doorbell. He was kind of hanging off the edge of the doorway after I opened the door.

“Good, you’re awake,” he slurred.

“Hardly,” I croaked. He slipped passed me and headed inside. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. One of them still wasn’t open.

His girlfriend, Amy, disappeared with some chick with a low cut top and a bag of meth, as Ben put it.

“Fuck knows,” slurred Ben when I asked him where she was.

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing. I’m not fucking saying anything. Fuck her.”

It was really late. He wanted a shower, he stank of booze and cigarettes. He came out in a towel and wanted something clean to put on. Demanded it, you know, like drunks do. I lent him some jocks to wear. I laughed to myself at only the skimpy jocks that were on offer, barely covering his completely, as he dried his hair. I decided I couldn’t always treat him like my own personal action man doll and I got him a t-shirt and some track pants, which he didn’t put on anyway.

Ben and I have this bond, I don’t know why. We’re close, Nick says like boyfriends, but then, Nick says a lot of things.

It was Sunday morning, the sun was due to come up next, that’s where we were at. I was fucked, still asleep, wishing I was. I packed him a couple of cones. I puffed on the first one.

Ben said he was fucking horny and cursed Amy, the female of the species, the pub scene, Melbourne, the universe.

I told him I was going back to bed, I didn’t need to be woken up to listen to him whine.

He told me to fuck off.

He lay his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, as I left the room.



The morning light was just beginning to glow behind the curtains, maybe just a hint of it. The cone was beginning to buzz through my bones, as I pulled the doona up to my neck. Ben came through the door and lifted the doona, which caused a draught and crawled in with me. He climbed on top of me and said hold me. He’s got thick thighs and a nice arse, which I cupped in my hands, feeling the elastic of my jocks around him. Ben has always crossed intimacy boundaries with me, especially when he’s drunk and drugged.

I loved the way his soft genitals pushed squishy against mine, big like they are in the way, as he lay on top of me. I love the feel of the hairs on his legs as they brushed with mine. He groaned and squirmed a bit. He slipped his mouth over mine and we kissed gently. I ran my hand through the back of his hair, caressing his head.

The first time Ben and I kissed was up against a wall in a night club after he’d taken his first e. Before he took it, he asked me to hold his hand when he was out of it, watch over him, keep him safe. You know the fear of the first time – even if I didn’t have that fear personally. I was real keen, truthfully, when I first took pills. He kept wanting to kiss between dancing, between songs. We kissed a lot, it was gentle and sensuous. He’s never been frightened of it since.

I pushed him off.

I lay my head sideways and gazed at him.

“You pissed off?”

He grunted.

“Pissed off about being on your own?”

He grunted again.

“You wish Amy didn’t...”

He stretched his hand out and touched my face, finger tips in my eyes, over my lips as if to say shh. He slid over and kissed me again. I let him open my mouth with his tongue, he slid it over my teeth. I pushed mine gently into his mouth. He relaxed as I kissed him. I filled his mouth. He pulled his face away.

“Hold me?”

I wrapped my arms around him.

He nuzzled into my neck.

His thick blond hair tickled my nose. It smelt like straw. His stubble brushed against my shoulder like needles. He smelt like soap and fresh water. He was warm and precious, like he needed to be protected. I felt protective.

Ben often came and slept with me, especially when he felt alone and was out of it. He had for years, since uni with me and Steve. The first time was when some girl he was seeing who he really liked dumped him when he was really pissed. He climbed into bed with me without saying a word and just clung on. Amy, and his previous girlfriend, like it.

“At least I know where he is,” says Amy.

His previous girlfriend, on numerous occasions when she was off her chops, used to encourage me to hold him in my arms. We used to gaze at him conspiratorially on the dance floor at some night club out of it and she’d whisper all sorts of dirty things about him as he danced. She used to say the idea turned her on.

I slid my hand down his muscular back to the elastic of his jocks. He felt solid, hard. He’s got the most sensual fine mat of hair at the base of his back. It’s like my identification point of him. Just Ben, I’d think, as I stroked it. I could probably identify his body blindfolded by that patch of him.

I slid my hand under the elastic of his under pants and played gently with the hairs in his arse. Just like that, absentmindedly. Ah fuck him, he crashes in here. I guess, I’ve got used to no longer sleeping alone. I have certain ownership rights over the bodies that find their way into my bed, that’s what I reckon, even if I wouldn’t push it so much to scare him. We’d shared this world for a while, this shaggy-haired straight boy and I, and he didn’t scare easily. It made me think of Steve and I got turned on, as my fingertips slipped through Ben’s coarse pubes. He snored. He didn't move.

I wondered what Steve was doing?

I turned Ben around and spooned him. He was floppy, completely trusting, I could do anything I wanted with him, I reckon. I squeezed his nipple gently, he groaned contentedly. I fell asleep.