Your heart skipped a beat as he said this, knowing fine well what he meant, as well as realizing then and there that your hazy memories of rolling in the hay with Miss. Card was definitely not a dream. It had happened. It had really happened. You and Randall had once again had sex. And not only that, not only had he fucked you and...and...sucked your dick?...He had actually pretended he was the real Miss. Card while he did it. Fuck me! you thought, feeling completely thrown and quite literally blown away. What you'd at first thought to be a drunken wet dream was in no way at all like your previous sexual trysts - which were both awkward and confusing - this...well, this had been something else entirely!
"Tim...?" he impatiently prodded, eagerly awaiting your reply.
You weren't exactly sure what to say, or quite how to say it, having convinced yourself for the last twenty or so minutes that it had all just been in your head. "I uh, I...I do." you somehow finally managed to stutter, certain that your face was now bright red, while a look of relief washed over Randall's own.
"Yeah. That was kind of...kind of wild, huh?" he said, blushing slightly himself.
"Yep." you gulped, nodding your head, as your brain tried desperately to process all this.
Randall meanwhile, continued on, his plump lips widening into a knowing little grin. "Better than with that bitch Allison I'm betting." There was a real sense of pride in his voice as he said this, and thinking back to what you could still somewhat vividly remember, you were almost certain that he was right.
"You could say that."
"Good. Well I'm glad you enjoyed it. And I'm glad you remembered. Sort of makes up for those three weeks of detention I stuck you with."
This last part went entirely over your head however. "D-detention?" you asked, having now pretty much forgotten about everything else that had happened.
Laughing at this and promising to "fill you in later", it was then Randall's turn to change the subject. "Anyway, come on," he said, picking up your now empty plate and placing them both in the sink, "Lets go play some Call of Duty or something. Start the weekend like we mean to go on."
Though a large part of you wanted to stay here and go through the ins and outs of what exactly had happened last night (and if it was indeed likely to happen again), it was obvious that any sort of conversation like this wasn't going to come easy. You were essentially two dudes after all. Two dudes who'd fucked each other. There mere fact that Randall had even mentioned it in the first place, rather than treat it as some sort of taboo as he done, was actually pretty amazing. As was the sex for that matter (at least from what you could remember of it). It genuinely seemed like he'd done it entirely for your benefit, to help cheer you up. Having gone so far as to dress up for you and give you a blowjob before taking you straight to heaven between his legs. Jesus. Randall sucked my dick. Randall sucked my fucking dick! you said to yourself, having never believed that your best friend would actually do that. It was unreal!
Following him through into the living room, you were both greeted by the sight of an half empty bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table - presumably what had given him the courage to 'seduce' you last night (indicated by his nervous giggle as he quickly whisked it away). Firing up his console and making himself comfortable on the couch, you grabbed a controller and took a seat yourself, trying not to dwell too much on the voluptuous body next to you, nor the things you had done to it last night. It was a near impossible task though, made all the more difficult by the fact that Randall hadn't even bothered to get changed and his huge bust was still straining underneath that thin camisole top, his pointy nipples (the sight of which was now seared into your brain) more than obvious poking through. Thankfully once the game got underway and the two of you were ducking and diving through various desert settings, blowing up absolutely everything you could see, your attention was (at least for the moment) adequately diverted away from his large jiggling melons and incredible long, naked legs. It even started to feel just like old times again...sort of, or at least a lot more normal than things had recently been, and for the next couple of hours you were content just sitting shooting the shit and killing bad guys, occasionally making some passing reference to Allison or the dance, as well as the punishment you now had to look forward to, courtesy of Randall.
"Sorry, dude. It was either that or face whatever diabolical thing Mullins might have cooked up. Cause you just know he would have come down way harder on you guys if I hadn't spoken up first."
"I guess," you agreed, not being able to really blame him. He had after all saved you from getting suspended. "It just sucks is all. Three weeks of fucking detentions. That isn't exactly gonna fly by."
Randall however seemed way more enthusiastic about your predicament, telling you that "Sure it will! You're forgetting who'll be supervising you, you idiot. Me! That's an extra hour everyday we get to spend together. And I won't make you do shit!"
"Sweet! I totally didn't think of that."
"And that's why you are but the learner," he laughed, putting on his best Darth Vader voice, "I AM the master." Though this had always been one of Randall's go to impressions, hearing it now for the first time, spoken with Miss. Card's much softer, feminine voice, you couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter - it sounding absolutely ridiculous. "Anyway, it's nearly time for lunch," he told you, ignoring your teasing of his now rather poor impressions and looking over at the clock on the wall. "Well, maybe dinner. We did sleep in kind of late," he corrected, seeing that it was now mid afternoon. "Hows your hangover doing?"
Surprisingly you weren't feeling too bad, the fried breakfast and Mr. Hanson's hangover cure seeming to have done the trick, clearing your head and getting rid of the nauseous feeling that had earlier been brewing in your stomach. Telling him this, Randall shot you n 'I told you so' wink, before dropping his XBox controller and pulling himself up off the couch.
"Well I'm gonna go jump in the shower and then get changed. Once I'm done you wanna maybe order some take out or something?"
"Sounds good to me." you told him, feeling like you'd soon be up for another meal - having not had take out since the last time you'd stayed over.
"Oh, and if you need a change of clothes, I've got some of my old stuff still in a box somewhere." he said as he sashayed past you, wiggling that big delectable butt as he went. Questioning this, not entirely sure why he'd need them (especially not with an ass like that) Randall replied defensively, "Hey, some of those t-shirt and shit are the bomb! There's no way I'm throwing it all away just because I'm a chick now."
Fair enough, you thought, presuming that he probably needed a few old items and things just to remind him who he really was, seeing as the mirror no longer did it.
About twenty minutes later, after having occupied yourself watching some TV and perusing Randall's now even more extended DVD collection, you heard him emerge from the shower upstairs, taking another good half hour or so before he finally showed his face, due no doubt to all the extensive preening he now had to do.
"Now even you've got to admit, this bad boy is gold!" he grinned as he padded into the room, his upper torso now clad in an extremely familiar looking t-shirt, while his lower half was once again (rather disappointingly so) covered by a pair of baggy sweatpants.
"Yeah...gold," you repeated, staring somewhat entranced at the incredibly warped S symbol that was stretched over the vast contours of his chest, his favorite blue Superman shirt no longer fitting quite like it used to. "So, still with the sweats, huh?" you asked, vaguely recalling that he'd also been wearing them last night.
"A promise is a promise, dude," he shrugged, reminding you what he'd said back in his classroom two days before. "Besides, they're more comfortable for lounging around."
"Yeah, I know. But..." you began, wanting to object, but not entirely sure how you could (especially as it was at your behest that he made this promise).
"But what? You'd prefer me to be a "cock tease"?"
Hearing your own angry words deflected back at you, you told him, "No! That's not what I meant, dude, and you know it." Before admitting with a little bit of ****, "I guess I just got used to you dressing the other way is all..."
Rather than take offense or accuse you of being the perv you thought he might, Randall just smiled. "I'm just yanking your chain, Tim," he said with a grin, sitting back down on the couch beside you. "I tell you what, after we've eaten, what say I find something a little more comfortable for both of us."
Wow, you thought, rather taken aback by this, Randall having never before been so openly willing to cater for your desires before, This definitely is a new side to him. Clearly things had changed after the heart to heart you'd had, your best friend now being far more willing to put you first for a change. Add to that what had happened last night and the fact he had actually discussed the sex (no matter how briefly) earlier, it honestly looked like things were going to be a lot more relaxed and far less awkward sexually in the future...whatever that may entail.
With this in mind then, you smiled at your friend and said, "Sounds like a plan." as he smiled right back and then proceeded to then grab a couple of take away menus off the table.
"So what's it to be, Chinese or Pizza?"
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