WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT FICTIONAL STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND ACTIVITIES.
--AFTERNOON DELIGHT--
The sun beat down fiercely on the hard surfaces of the apartment courtyard. My body was bathed in sweat. I kept my eyes closed against the sunlight, telling myself for the thousandth time I would not open them to look across the 30 feet of garish blue swimming pool to where TJ Cox lay sprawled on a chaise lounge. The only others about were Mrs. Finch, the frumpy manager, and two of her cronies in deck chairs down at the shady end, aborbed in their beer and their gossip.
I had seen him cross the concrete deck 20 minutes ago. He wore mirrored sunglasses. A tiny black bikini clung to his slim hips. A strip of material hid only the crack between his magnificent buttocks and provided a small pouch to hold his ample genitals. One of the threadbare towels provided by the management was slung around TJ's slender but sinewy neck.
I had quickly shut my eyes as TJ had passed, although I was sure he had not deigned to look in my direction. In fact he had given no sign that he was aware of my presence during the three months I had lived in the building. I told myself I had chosen the place because it was cheap and convenient to the university campus, where I was a graduate student in the music department, but I knew that spotting TJ Cox emerging from the entrance, with its `vacancy' sign, and climbing into his battered red Mustang had been the deciding factor.
I had seen TJ, a freshman, around the campus a number of times over the preceeding year. Each time was like a revelation. He was beautiful in that sun-goldened way that only seems to grace blond young men from California. His height was average, or perhaps a little less, but his body was extraordinary--slim but muscular and, as I had been able to observe when I could catch him poolside, smooth and honey-colored.
His place was three doors from mine along the rather rickety balcony that gave access to the second floor apartments. A number of times, passing his window after dark, I had attempted to peek through the crack between curtain and frame, hoping for a more complete view of the fabulous TJ. Once, only once, I had caught him naked, bent over as he retreived a book from the floor. I managed a full inspection of his long, lithe legs and, best of all, of his perfect little buns. In the onrush of my excitement, I had fallen against the window, making a racket. I fled around the corner of the building and looked back to see the drape being roughly yanked back into position, extinguishing the strip of light from TJ's room.
For days I had avoided crossing in front of his apartment, taking the longer way down another staircase. I was terrified that he knew it was me out there, peeping at him like some pervert. And I tried to make my expression more neutral, to hide the mute longing that would otherwise betray me, when we passed in the courtyard or on campus. I veered wildly back and forth between a conviction that the blond youth knew I was smitten, and had dismissed me as a contemptible faggot, and and the certainty that he was completely ignorant of my existence. I couldn't decide which would be worse.
There must have been five years difference in our ages and, of course, we shared no classes. I had never seen him at any of the functions--meetings, parties--organized by the university's gay community. But neither had I ever seen him with a girl. Did he have a sex life, I wondered? Who were his friends? Would we ever speak? How big was his cock? (I spent the most time pondering this last question, I'll admit.)
I could hold out no longer. I opened my eyes to slits to hide my perusal of him and stared across the pool at TJ. He lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head. The position emphasized the sizeable muscles in his upper arms and the sharply defined planes of his pectorals and hard belly. His legs were splayed. The bulge of his basket seemed enormous. He turned his head and looked directly toward me. Did he gesture with his chin, inviting me to approach? It didn't seem likely. I continued to lie still, but began to breath harder.
There was no mistaking his intention as he freed his hand from behind his neck and signaled me with his finger. I was being summoned. As I stood to make my way toward him, I was aware of the sudden hardening at my loin, of the obscene bulge in the front of my trunks. I quickly hung my towel around my neck, carefully draping it to hide the evidence of my arousal, and hurried toward him.
I stood before him as he looked me up and down. His light colored, grey eyes were piercing in their intensity. When he spoke his voice was deep and musical. A faint smile played on his thin, well-shaped lips. "You got the time?" he asked.
For a moment, the question perplexed me. I stood there mute and confused. "What time is it, man?" he asked again, with some exasperation.
"Oh, the time," I answered, almost stammering. "I'm not wearing my watch, it's there with my stuff." I gestured back toward my own lounge.
TJ continued to stare up at me, waiting for me to do the obvious.
I returned to my place and scrabbled anxiously through books, jars of lotion, a tee shirt, seaching for the watch. Finding it, I returned to where he lay and managed to blurt, "It's almost four. Twenty til."
Once more I was caught in the grey intensity of his gaze. "Be up at my apartment at four o'clock," he said, finally. "I'll let you lick my asshole." His hand moved to his taut belly where he scratched lazily before reclasping it behind his head. He closed his eyes.
Although dismissed, I continued to stand there shakily. I couldn't credit what I had just heard, what he had just said. It was so unbelievably crude, so incredibly arrogant.
I looked over at Mrs. Finch and her harpies. They had heard nothing.
Back on my own lounge, I began to fume. Who the fuck did TJ Cox think he was, I asked myself? Even looking as he did, there were limits. Fuck him. Let him lick his own asshole. Jesus. What a thing to say. He could have said, "We can get it on," or even, "You can go down on me." Well, if he thought I was going to show up at four for that kind of scene, he was crazy as well as arrogant.
I heard the creak of springs from TJ's lounge and, without willing it, looked over toward him. He had flipped over onto his front. The spherical contours of his trim little butt were on display in the afternoon sunlight. I could see the little creases where buttock met thigh, the dimples at the top of the smooth globes. His legs were spread again so that only the scanty strip of black material prevented me from seeing right into his crack. I wondered if he was as hairless there as were his chest and buns. I wondered whether his anus was pink and puckered. I wondered how big the hole was. My erection returned with such intensity that I had to flip over myself to hide it.
Ten minutes later I opened one eye to watch TJ pass on his way to his room. He did not look down at me.
At five minutes to four, I rose and jumped into the pool and swam three lengths. By one minute to four I was climbing the stairs. By four o'clock I was pressing his door bell.
As I stood on the balcony outside TJ's apartment, I heard a shower splashing and then ceasing. A few moments later, he pulled the door open and looked out at me. I slipped inside. He now wore only a clean towel around his waist. His tousled blond hair was still wet from his shower. He was breathtaking. I hated him. I loved him.
He sauntered into the kitchen and I heard the door of a refrigerator open and then shut. He returned carrying two cans of beer and handed one to me. He flopped onto the couch. I remained standing. His towel had ridden up so that I could see the head of his dick, rosy, bulbous, and the beginning of what I judged must be a long cylinder of shaft. I longed to touch it, taste it, make love to it. I could also make out a portion of his scrotum in the shadowy area between his legs. He noted where my gaze was riveted.
"So. You made it," he said. For the first time, he smiled.
"I had decided I wouldn't come," I said. "But here I am. Your graceful invitation, I guess. You've really got a way with words, you know?"
He patted the couch and I sat down.
"I don't believe it bullshitting around, man."
"My name is Cory," I said. "You're TJ, right?"
"Yeah. Look. Cory. Let's be honest. I get hit on a lot. People seem to like the way I look. So I want to be straight about what's going down." He smiled again. "Who's going down," he ammended.
"Strictly top, huh? Strictly trade. Is that it?"
"I don't know the terms you people use, but I know what I dig, man. Cory. I like getting my dick sucked. I love getting rimmed. I might even fuck you. But I got no interest in your dick, man. Shit, I don't even eat pussy."
"Well," I answered, "it's a long time since I've made it with anyone where there's no reciprocity. But your hard to resist, TJ. I guess we'll both have to dedicate ourselves to taking care of your cock." I reached forward toward him. My hand slipped beneath the towel. I grasped the warm, pliant flesh of his penis and began to squeeze it gently. Immediately, it began to lengthen and grow hard. It was as big as I had hoped it would be.
He untied the towel, pulled it from under his rump and tossed it on the floor. As I moved closer to him and began to lower my head toward his crotch, he stopped me.
"Like, I said. I want you to eat out my ass, first. Lie down. I'll sit on your face."
I did as TJ instructed. He squatted over me, facing toward my feet. As he lowered his ass toward my mouth, he pulled his cheeks apart, exposing what lay in the tight crack between them. There was no hair. His asshole was pink and puckered, like a rosebud. I smelled only his sunwarmed flesh and the soap from his recent shower.
The clenched hole was small until I began working on it with my lips and tongue. TJ's sphincter dilated and my tongue slipped inside him. I forced it upward and began exploring the satiny, slimy walls of his rectal tube. I alternated vigorous probes with my tongue with attempts to suck as hard as I could on his hole. A few moments of these ministrations and I began to taste his shit. The flavor was nutty, delicious. I grew delerious with the flavor of him.
With one hand I reached around stroked the hard nine inches of his erect cock. With the other I fondled his big balls, hanging down over my chin.
He squirmed, mashing his hard buns all over my face, delighted with what I was doing to him. But he kept his asshole positioned directly over my mouth so that I could continue to suck on it and lick up inside his rectum. "Oh, that's bithchin', man," he grunted. "I love the way you eat my ass. Get your tongue in really deep. Clean it for me, Cory."
I did as he told me, loving it as much as he did.
He lifted his foot and placed his heel on my belly, just above my cock. He began to poke my cock with his foot, batting it back and forth.
"Your dick is like a rock, man. You really dig eating my shit hole, don't you?"
I could only answer by thrusting my tongue even further up his chute. My tongue encountered the soft, crumbly texture of a turd lodged in his gut. Still, I didn't stop. I had never done anything so dirty, so abasing before. I wanted never to stop.
TJ, too, grew more and more excited. I was startled to feel the turd begin to descend. Now I was frightened, but I was trapped beneath him. He could do as he wanted. I couldn't believe he would actually try to shit in my mouth. People didn't do that to each other, did they? Why would TJ want to subject me to that? Why would I let him do it?
"Now you're going to eat my shit, man," TJ told me. "I'm going to dump a turd right in your mouth. You ready?"
His sphincter opened even more widely and he grunted slightly as he strained to force the stool into my mouth. It slid past my lips and over my tongue. It felt long and slippery now as it moved toward the back of my mouth.
"Suck it," he commanded. "Suck the turd out of my asshole, Cory. Oh yeah. Oh, yeah. You're doing fine, piggy."
Before we were finished, TJ ejected three large turds into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed them, wallowing in the filth he forced into me.
When he had no more shit to expel, I licked him clean, making sure no trace of feces remained to stain the perfection of his rectum, his anus, the warm cleft of his buttocks. Only when I had finished cleaning him with my lips and tongue did he let me up.
As I rushed into the bathroom to vomit up the mess he had filled me with, I heard him say, "Now clean yourself up, man. When you get back, you can suck my dick until I come. If you do a good job, I'll let you drink my piss, afterwards. You think you'll like that?"
I couldn't wait to get back to TJ.
I sunk to me my knees in the steamy shower stall. TJ stood before me, legs slightly parted, fingering the limber length of his now flaccid cock. He aimed it at the middle of my chest. I waited.
Now I could see the urethra dilate. The lips of his piss hole actually curled back. The orifice gaped open and I could see the shiny pink of the membrane that lined it. Suddenly a pencil-thick stream of bright yellow urine gushed out, hitting me squarely between my nipples. The smell was sharp, acrid.
TJ played the stream of piss all over me, taking care to wet me everywhere. My own cock was rock-hard as he pissed on my crotch.
The stream moved back up my body and did not stop as it reached my throat. It continued up past my chin and sprayed all over my face and head, drenching my hair. Now TJ stepped closer to me so he could improve his aim. As I opened my eyes, I could see that he had stopped pissing for a moment but that his cock was pointed directly at my mouth.
"Open up, you slut," he said. "I want to piss in your Goddamn mouth."
I did what he told me. He began to piss again. The frothy golden urine splashed into my mouth and, because I couldn't hold it all, dribbled down my chin.
TJ yanked on my urine-drenched hair, pulling my face closer to his pungent, dripping genitals.
"You're wasting my piss, fucker," he told me. "Pigs are supposed to swallow all the piss their masters give them. Close your lips around my dick. But don't suck on it. If you get me hard, I won't be able to piss."
He must have been carrying a huge bladderful because what he now commenced to piss down my throat completely filled my belly. When he was through, I could feel his still warm urine sloshing inside me.
What an incredible half hour I had been through.