Karaoke Booth With My Straight Friend

The private karaoke booth smelled faintly of spilled beer and lemon polish, its walls padded in scuffed red vinyl that swallowed the bass thump from the main bar outside. Theo slid the glass door shut behind them and the world narrowed to the two of them, the sticky tabletops, and the cheap LED screen glowing blue in the corner. He was twenty-eight, openly out for a decade, lean in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the kind of man who moved through rooms like he already owned the joke. Callum followed, twenty-six, still carrying the thick muscle of his college football years under a soft gray henley that strained across his chest and arms. Freshly single after three years with a girl who had decided she wanted “space,” he had let Theo drag him here to drink and sing badly and forget.

They dropped onto the narrow bench that wrapped three walls. Knees bumped. Theo keyed in a couple of mid-tempo tracks while Callum cracked open two cans from the bucket of ice. Foam slid down Callum’s thick wrist; Theo watched it catch the light and felt the familiar heat that always lived under their years of friendship.

“You’re staring,” Callum said, voice already rough from the first beer.

“You’re easy to stare at. Breakup looks good on you. All that leftover gym time.”

Callum snorted, but color climbed his neck. Their teasing had always run hot—hands on shoulders that lingered, jokes about locker-room showers that made Callum flush and Theo grin. Tonight the booth made it denser. The air felt close, the single overhead bulb dimmed low, throwing shadows across Callum’s jaw and the soft bulge of his thighs in dark jeans.

Halfway through the second song Callum’s boot tapped against Theo’s. He set the can down, looked at the screen instead of Theo’s face, and said, quiet, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like. Being wanted by a guy. Like, really looked at that way. Not just… teammates or whatever.”

Theo’s pulse kicked. He kept his tone light, but his fingers curled around the cold can. “Curious, huh?”

“Yeah.” Callum’s throat worked. “After she left I kept thinking about it. How different it might feel. Someone who wants the same things I do, the hard parts, the mess.” He laughed once, short. “Shit. I’m drunk.”

“You’re honest. Keep going.”

They ordered another round. The server slid the tray through the little window and vanished. Theo queued a duet—something slow and filthy with overlapping vocals about nights that shouldn’t happen and mouths that did. He handed Callum the second mic. Their shoulders pressed together as the intro rolled. Callum’s voice came out lower than usual, husky on the sustained notes, eyes flicking to Theo’s mouth whenever the lyric hit “touch me like you mean it.” Theo sang the harmony and felt the vibration travel down his own chest into his cock. He didn’t look away. Neither did Callum.

When the track ended the silence rushed in, thick as the heat between them. Callum’s chest rose fast under the henley. A sheen of sweat sat at his collarbone. Theo set the mic aside and let his gaze drag openly—over the heavy swell of Callum’s pecs, the way the fabric clung to his abs when he breathed, the thick outline already starting to press against his zipper.

“You’ve got a body built for being handled,” Theo said, voice dropped. “All that muscle, those thighs. I’ve thought about putting my hands on you more times than I’ll admit. Ever thought about a man touching you? Not a girl. Hands that know exactly what a cock wants.”

Callum’s breath left him in a shaky rush. He nodded once, hard. “Yeah. Fuck. Tonight I want it. I want you to do it. I keep looking at your mouth and wondering what it would feel like if you just… took.”

The words hung between them like smoke. Theo turned fully on the bench. Their knees slotted together. He reached up and cupped the side of Callum’s neck, thumb stroking the hinge of his jaw, feeling the stubble and the frantic pulse underneath. Callum leaned in first—half an inch, then another—until their mouths met in a clumsy, hungry press that turned open and wet almost immediately. Theo licked into him, tasted beer and want. Callum groaned, a raw sound that vibrated against Theo’s tongue, and shoved closer so their chests crushed together. One of Callum’s big hands fisted in Theo’s shirt; the other landed heavy on Theo’s thigh, fingers digging in like he needed the anchor.

They kissed like they were trying to climb inside each other. Tongues sliding, lips dragging, teeth catching. Theo nipped Callum’s lower lip and felt the answering shudder roll through the thicker body against him. Callum’s cock was fully hard now, a thick ridge trapped against Theo’s hip; Theo rolled his own erection into that heat and swallowed the broken noise Callum made. The booth was small enough that every shift of fabric and skin sounded loud. Outside, someone laughed in the hallway, but the vinyl walls kept the sound muted, private.

Theo broke the kiss only long enough to drag his mouth along Callum’s jaw to the soft spot under his ear. “You sure?” he murmured against damp skin. “Because once I get my hands under this shirt I’m not stopping at curious. I’m going to touch you like I’ve wanted to for years.”

Callum’s answer was another kiss, messier, open-mouthed, his tongue pushing past Theo’s lips like he was starving. “I’m sure. Want it raw. Want you to fuck me open right here if that’s where it goes. Just—don’t stop.”

Theo’s hand slid under the hem of the henley, palm skating over hot, ridged abs, then higher to the hard plane of Callum’s pec. He thumbed a nipple and felt it pebble instantly. Callum arched into the touch, hips jerking, the hard line of his cock grinding against Theo’s thigh with desperate friction. Their breaths mixed, ragged. Theo’s free hand dropped to Callum’s belt, fingers working the buckle open one-handed while they kept kissing, wet and filthy. The metal clinked. Callum’s zipper hissed down. Theo slipped his fingers inside and wrapped them around the thick, leaking shaft that sprang free—hot, heavy, already slick at the tip. Callum choked on a moan and thrust into the fist like he’d been waiting his whole life for it.

“Jesus, you’re big,” Theo whispered against his mouth. “Been saving this for me?”

“Didn’t know I was,” Callum managed, voice wrecked. “Feels—fuck—feels better than I thought. Your hand. A man’s hand.”

Theo stroked him slow and tight, twisting over the head on every upstroke, spreading the precum until the slide turned filthy. Callum’s head dropped back against the vinyl, throat exposed, eyes half-lidded and dark. Theo leaned in and sucked a mark onto the side of that throat, tasting salt, feeling the muscle jump. His own cock throbbed untouched in his jeans, aching. He kept working Callum’s dick, palm slick now, while his other hand shoved the henley higher so he could get his mouth on a nipple—tongue flicking, teeth grazing. Callum’s hands scrambled over Theo’s shoulders, down his back, then finally to the front of Theo’s pants, fumbling the button open with shaking fingers.

When Callum’s big palm finally closed around Theo’s cock, both of them groaned into each other’s mouths. They stroked in rough tandem, knees bracketing, hips rolling, the wet sounds of skin on skin loud in the tiny booth. Callum’s thumb dragged over Theo’s slit the same way Theo was doing to him, learning by feel, copying the pressure that made Theo’s breath hitch. Their foreheads pressed together. Callum’s eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and shiny.

“I keep thinking about you bending me over this table,” Callum rasped. “About you spit-slicking that cock and pushing into me. Never taken anything but fingers on myself when I was drunk and curious, but I want the real thing. Want it tonight. Want you to wreck me so I stop thinking about anything else.”

Theo’s stroke faltered for half a second at the filthy honesty, then tightened again. He kissed Callum hard enough to bruise, pouring every year of restrained want into it. Their free hands shoved clothing further aside—jeans dragged halfway down thick thighs, shirts rucked up under armpits. Bare skin met bare skin from chest to hip. Callum’s heavy balls rested against Theo’s wrist on every downstroke. Theo felt the first warning pulse in his own cock and forced himself slower, squeezing the base, buying time. He wanted Callum desperate, not finished.

Outside the booth the bar music shifted to something bass-heavy. Inside, the only soundtrack was the wet slide of fists and the broken sounds spilling from Callum’s throat every time Theo thumbed the underside of his cockhead. Callum’s hips jerked in short, helpless thrusts. His free hand found Theo’s ass and squeezed hard enough to leave marks, hauling him closer until their cocks lined up, trapped between two stomachs, and they rutted into the shared heat while still jacking each other.

Theo dragged his mouth down Callum’s neck again, lower, across the sweat-slick pec, and sucked the nipple back into his mouth while his hand never stopped moving. Callum’s thighs trembled. “Theo—fuck—I’m gonna—if you keep—”

“Not yet,” Theo murmured against his skin. He eased the stroke, switched to long, teasing pulls that kept Callum right on the edge without tipping him. “I want you aching for it. Want you begging louder than the music when I finally get inside you.”

Callum’s laugh came out shattered. He yanked Theo back up into another kiss, tongue fucking into his mouth the way he clearly wanted something else fucking into him. Their cocks slid together, sticky and hot, Callum’s thicker girth making Theo’s dick jump every time the heads kissed. Theo’s free hand slipped lower, between Callum’s legs, past the heavy balls, fingertips brushing the tight furl of his hole. Callum jerked like he’d been shocked, then pushed back onto the touch with a desperate little noise.

“Do it,” Callum breathed. “Finger me. Get me ready. I don’t care if anyone walks past. I need it.”

Theo spit into his palm, reached down again, and pressed the slick pad of his middle finger against that clenched ring. He circled it slow, feeling the muscle flutter and soften under the pressure. Callum’s whole body went rigid, then melted. The tip of Theo’s finger slipped inside to the first knuckle—hot, impossibly tight—and Callum’s cock leaked a thick rope of precum down Theo’s knuckles.

They stayed like that, kissing deep and filthy, Theo’s finger working shallow thrusts while both of them kept stroking, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with nowhere to go yet. Callum’s hole clenched rhythmically around the intrusion, already greedy. Theo added a second spit-slick finger and stretched him open carefully, scissoring, rubbing over the swollen spot inside that made Callum’s eyes roll back and his voice crack on Theo’s name.

The booth felt smaller by the second. Sweat shone on both their chests. Callum’s jeans were shoved to mid-thigh, Theo’s to his knees. Their shirts hung open. Every shift of skin on skin was electric. Theo curled his fingers and watched Callum’s abs jump, watched the straight best friend who had never done this before fall apart on two of his fingers and still beg for more with every broken breath.

Callum grabbed Theo’s wrist, not to stop him but to push him deeper. “More. Want your cock. Want you to bend me over and fuck me raw until I forget her name. Please.”

Theo’s own cock throbbed so hard it hurt. He kissed the corner of Callum’s open mouth, tasted the plea, and kept working him open with slow, filthy patience, drawing out every second of the first night they crossed the line. The next song queued itself automatically on the screen, soft and ignored. Outside, footsteps passed and faded. Inside the booth, Callum’s hole fluttered around Theo’s fingers, slick and ready and still nowhere near filled, and the hungry way he kissed back promised that the night was only just starting to burn.

Theo worked a third finger into Callum’s clenching heat, twisting slow until the tight ring gave and swallowed him to the knuckles. Callum’s cock jumped hard in Theo’s other fist, another thick bead of precum rolling down the shaft. The straight friend shook all over, thighs spread as wide as the half-shucked jeans would allow, breath tearing out of him in short, stunned bursts.

“Fuck—look at you,” Theo murmured against the shell of Callum’s ear. “Opening up for me like you were made for it. You feel how greedy that hole is already?”

Callum could only nod, forehead pressed to Theo’s, eyes dark and glassy. His hand tightened around Theo’s cock, stroking clumsy and desperate, smearing slick from base to tip. “Need more than fingers. Need your dick. Please—let me taste it first. Been staring at that bulge all night. Want it on my tongue before you wreck me.”

Theo’s pulse slammed. He eased his fingers free with a wet sound that made Callum whimper, then leaned back against the vinyl. The booth lights painted blue across the thick vein running the underside of his cock. Callum slid off the bench like gravity itself pulled him down, knees hitting the sticky floor hard enough to bruise. He shoved Theo’s jeans lower, big hands framing the lean hips, and stared for one raw second at the flushed cock bobbing in front of his face—harder, longer than his own fantasies had allowed.

Then he opened his mouth and took it.

No hesitation. Callum sealed wet heat around the head and sank down, tongue flattening along the underside, cheeks hollowing with greedy suction. Theo’s head thumped back against the padding, a broken groan ripping free. “Jesus Christ, Callum—look at you. Straight buddy on his knees sucking cock like he was born starving for it. That mouth—fuck, so hot, so tight.”

Callum moaned around the shaft, the vibration racing straight up Theo’s spine. He took more, lips stretching, spit already shining down his chin. One thick hand cupped Theo’s balls, rolling them gently while the other braced on a thigh. He bobbed deeper, throat working, surprising skill in the way he twisted his head on the upstroke and fluttered his tongue right under the ridge. Theo’s fingers threaded into Callum’s short hair, not forcing, just holding on while praise spilled out of him.

“That’s it, take it. Fuck, you’re good at this. Look how pretty you look with my cock stretching those lips. Been dreaming about this—watching you choke on it, watching those football-player shoulders flex while you service me. Deeper, baby. Show me how bad you want it.”

Callum pushed until his nose pressed to Theo’s abs, throat convulsing around the head. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes but he held, swallowing, then pulled back only to dive again. Spit strings connected his swollen mouth to the glistening shaft every time he came up for air. Theo’s hips stuttered; he forced them still, letting Callum set the pace, drinking in the sight of his straight best friend worshipping his cock with single-minded hunger. The wet sounds filled the booth—obscene, rhythmic, louder than the muffled bass outside.

When Callum finally pulled off with a gasp, his lips were red and shiny, chin dripping. “Want you inside me. Now. Bend me over. Rim me first—please—get me wetter.”

Theo hauled him up by the armpits and spun him. Callum braced both hands on the edge of the karaoke bench, jeans kicked free of one ankle so he could spread wider. His thick ass flexed under Theo’s palms. Theo dropped to a crouch behind him, spread the muscled cheeks with both thumbs, and dragged his tongue flat over the fluttering hole.

Callum shouted into the crook of his arm. Theo licked again, firmer, circling the rim, then speared inside. He fucked Callum open with his tongue—long wet thrusts, lips sealed tight, nose buried in the cleft while he ate him like a man starving. Spit ran down Callum’s balls. Theo’s thumbs kept him spread, kneading the hard muscle, alternating deep dives with broad wet swipes that made the rim twitch and soften. Callum pushed back onto every stroke, voice cracking.

“Fuck—Theo—your tongue—god, right there, don’t stop—”

Theo didn’t. He rimming him until Callum’s hole was shiny and loose, until the straight friend’s thighs shook and his cock swung heavy and neglected between his legs, dripping steadily onto the floor. Only then did Theo rise, spit once more into his palm, slicked his own aching cock, and lined up.

The blunt head pressed. Callum’s breath stopped. Theo pushed steady, watching the tight ring stretch around him, swallow the crown, then inch after inch of thick shaft until he bottomed out in one long, claiming glide. Heat clamped around him—scorching, perfect. Callum’s head dropped between his shoulders; a raw, punched-out sound tore from his chest.

“Holy fuck you’re big—filling me—don’t stop, just fuck me.”

Theo gripped those powerful hips and started thrusting. Standing doggy in the cramped booth forced him deep on every stroke; the angle dragged his cock over Callum’s prostate relentlessly. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the vinyl. Theo fucked him hard, pulling almost all the way out so Callum could feel the empty ache, then slamming home again until the bench creaked. Callum’s thick back muscles flexed under the rucked-up henley; sweat rolled down the valley of his spine. Theo leaned over him, chest to back, mouth open against the side of Callum’s neck.

“Taking me so well. Straight hole stretched around gay cock like it belongs there. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

“Yes—fuck yes—harder.” Callum shoved back to meet every thrust, ass rippling. “Wreck me. Want to feel you tomorrow.”

Theo gave him harder. The booth filled with the filthy soundtrack of raw fucking—skin slapping, wet squelches, Callum’s broken moans every time Theo nailed that sweet spot. Theo reached around, wrapped a fist around Callum’s drooling cock, and stroked in time with his hips. Callum’s whole body jolted; he clamped down so tight Theo almost came right then.

Not yet. Theo pulled out with a wet pop that made Callum whine, then manhandled him around and onto his back across the bench. Callum’s legs hooked high around Theo’s waist without being asked. Theo pushed back in one smooth thrust, folding him nearly in half so they were chest to chest, faces inches apart. Missionary. Deep. Immediate eye contact.

Callum’s eyes locked on his—blown black, desperate, shining. He wrapped a hand around his own cock between their bodies and stroked fast, matching Theo’s pounding rhythm. “Harder. Please—look at me and fuck me harder. Don’t look away. I need to see you while you own this hole.”

Theo drove into him with everything he had. The bench squeaked under them. Their mouths hovered open, sharing the same air, never quite kissing because the eye contact burned hotter. Every thrust punched a gasp out of Callum; every downstroke of his fist smeared precum across his own abs. Theo felt the velvet walls flutter and squeeze, felt Callum’s heels dig into his lower back urging him deeper.

“You’re mine right now,” Theo growled, voice wrecked. “This tight fucking ass is mine. Say it.”

“Yours—fuck—my hole is yours. Use me. Harder, Theo, I’m so close—”

Theo slammed home and stayed buried for three grinding thrusts that made Callum’s eyes roll, then pulled back and jackhammered again. Sweat dripped from Theo’s chin onto Callum’s chest. The thick cock in Callum’s fist was purple, leaking constantly. Their stares never broke—raw, locked, pouring every year of buried want into the single point where their bodies joined. Callum’s free hand clawed at Theo’s shoulders hard enough to leave crescents. The next song started forgotten on the screen. Outside footsteps passed; neither man cared.

Theo’s balls drew tight. He fought it, forcing his hips to keep the brutal pace Callum begged for, watching the straight friend’s face contort with every deep stroke. Callum’s hole clenched in rhythmic pulses, already tipping toward the edge, voice a continuous ragged plea for more, harder, don’t stop, look at me, fill me—

The tension coiled white-hot between them, nowhere near finished, the night still burning hotter with every raw thrust that left both men shaking and hungry for whatever came next.

Theo’s hips never faltered. He kept driving into Callum’s clenching heat with long, punishing strokes that made the bench screak against the vinyl wall, every thrust bottoming out so deep the blunt head of his cock kissed that swollen spot inside and stayed there just long enough to grind. Callum’s legs locked tighter around his waist, heels digging bruises into Theo’s lower back, forcing him deeper still. Sweat slicked their chests together; the wet slap of skin on skin filled the booth like a second bass line. Callum’s fist flew over his own cock in frantic, short jerks, but Theo batted the hand away and pinned both of Callum’s wrists above his head against the padded bench.

“Hands-free,” Theo growled against his mouth. “I want to feel you come just from my cock wrecking that hole. Look at me while you do it.”

Callum’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown so wide the color almost vanished. He nodded frantically, breath stuttering out in broken moans every time Theo slammed home. The thick ring of muscle around Theo’s shaft fluttered and seized in greedy pulses, already fluttering on the edge. Theo angled sharper, hips snapping in a brutal rhythm that dragged over Callum’s prostate without mercy. Outside the door someone shouted for another round of drinks; neither of them heard it. Callum’s cock lay heavy and untouched between their bodies, purple-headed and leaking a steady clear stream across his abs, twitching harder with every deep stroke.

“Theo—fuck—I’m—oh shit—” Callum’s voice cracked. His hole clamped down like a fist. The orgasm ripped through him without a single touch to his cock: thick white ropes pulsed out in hard, rhythmic jets, splattering up his own chest, striping his collarbone, even catching the underside of his chin. His whole body arched off the bench, thighs shaking violently around Theo’s waist, a raw shout torn from his throat as the pleasure kept rolling, milking every last drop from balls that had never emptied this hard. Theo fucked him straight through it, grinding deep while Callum’s walls spasmed and fluttered around him in endless waves.

That vise-tight heat was too much. Theo buried himself to the hilt one final time, hips jerking, and came with a guttural groan that vibrated against Callum’s neck. Hot pulses flooded deep inside the clenching channel, thick and endless, painting Callum’s insides while Theo’s cock throbbed and kicked. He stayed locked there, grinding through every spurt, feeling Callum’s hole greedily milk him for more. Their mouths finally crashed together in a messy, open kiss, tongues sliding lazy and slow while the aftershocks kept twitching through both of them.

For a long minute they just breathed into each other, chests heaving, still joined. Theo’s cock softened only slightly inside the slick heat. He eased out carefully, watching a slow trickle of his own cum leak from Callum’s stretched, shiny rim. The sight made something tender twist low in his gut. He dropped to his knees between Callum’s spread thighs, gently cleaned the mess with the flat of his tongue—long, careful swipes over the puffy hole, tasting himself and Callum mixed together. Callum shivered and made a soft, spent sound, fingers threading loosely into Theo’s hair.

Theo rose again, crawled up Callum’s body, and licked the cooling streaks of cum from his chest and throat with the same unhurried care. Soft, closed-mouth kisses followed each swipe—along the collarbone, over a still-pebbled nipple, up the side of Callum’s neck where a dark mark already bloomed. Callum’s big hands cupped Theo’s face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, guiding him into deeper, slower kisses that tasted of salt and beer and shared release. They traded soft presses of lips, tongues barely brushing, the frantic hunger replaced by something quieter and almost shy. Theo’s palm rested over Callum’s heart, feeling it gradually slow. Callum’s free hand stroked up and down Theo’s bare back in lazy circles.

“That was…” Callum started, voice hoarse, then huffed a quiet laugh against Theo’s mouth. “Fuck. I can’t even finish a sentence.”

Theo smiled into the next kiss, nuzzling the corner of his lips. “You came so hard you almost blacked out. Hands-free. Proud of you.”

Color crept up Callum’s neck again, post-orgasm blush mixing with leftover heat. He looked away for half a second, then forced his gaze back. “I… I want to do it again. Soon. Like, not just tonight. If that’s— if you want that too.” The admission came out soft, almost mumbled, his fingers tightening nervously on Theo’s shoulder. “I’ve never felt anything like that. Being looked at that way. Fucked that way. I keep thinking about next time already. Just us. Somewhere private. A whole night.”

Theo’s chest went warm and tight. He kissed him again, slower, lingering. “Yeah. I want that. Next weekend. My place. No karaoke screens, no chance of anyone walking past. Just you, naked in my bed, begging for it again.”

Callum’s smile turned crooked and genuine. They cleaned up the rest of the mess with napkins from the ice bucket and half-forgotten wet wipes from Theo’s jacket pocket—gentle swipes over sticky skin, shared chuckles when Callum winced at the tender stretch of his hole. Jeans were tugged back up, shirts smoothed as best they could. Callum’s henley still smelled like sex and sweat; Theo’s black button-down hung open, showing the red scratches Callum’s nails had left. They stole one more lingering kiss before Theo slid the glass door open.

The bar noise rushed back in—laughter, clinking glasses, the thump of a new track. They stepped out into the narrow hallway side by side. Callum’s pinky hooked around Theo’s first, then their full hands laced together, palms warm and sure. Neither let go as they wove through the crowd toward the exit. Outside the cool night air hit their flushed faces. Callum squeezed Theo’s fingers and spoke low so only he could hear.

“Friday. Bring lube that doesn’t taste like spit. And maybe cuffs. I want to try being tied down while you take your time.”

Theo laughed, soft and private, thumb stroking over Callum’s knuckles as they walked toward the lot. “Deal. I’ll cook something first. Or we can order in and go straight to dessert.”

They reached Theo’s car still holding hands, shoulders brushing. Callum leaned in for one last quick kiss against the driver’s door, tasting like promise. He pulled back just far enough to meet Theo’s eyes, that same dark hunger already flickering again beneath the shy afterglow.

“Drive safe,” Callum murmured. “Text me when you’re home. And… thanks. For not stopping when I asked you not to.”

Theo opened the door for him, watched those thick thighs slide into the passenger seat, then circled around. As he settled behind the wheel and the engine turned over, Callum’s hand found his again across the console, fingers interlocking like they had always belonged there. The city lights smeared past the windshield while they already traded quiet plans—my place, your place, a weekend cabin if they could swing it—voices low and easy, the booth and the raw fuck already settling into memory as the start of something neither had expected to keep.

Theo glanced over at the straight friend who had come undone on his cock and now sat there holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the last thing he thought before the highway swallowed them was that Callum had never once said the word “straight” again after the door slid shut behind them.