Warnings and Disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal in your town, state or zip code because of your age, religion, or other government rules you shouldn't read this.
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If you don't want to read about male/male gay sexual relationships, go away. You shouldn't waste your time with this story.
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I don't know any of the members of 'N Sync or any other celebrities that may be mentioned in this story. This story in no way is meant to imply anything about 'N Sync and any other celebrities sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions or suggestions can be sent to "jtpoole9@pineland.net". I want to hear from everyone out there that is reading this story, tell me what you think whether it is bad or good.
============================= All I Want Is You - Chapter 1 by JT Poole
"Hey Lance, what are you doing over the break?" Chris asked.
Lance answered as he read through his magazine, "Ah, dunno."
"Well, I'm kind of horny. I'm going to try to catch Justin before he hits the showers after dance practice. Want to come to a movie with us?" Chris again, trying to stir up a conversation with Lance, putting his left hand on Lance's shoulder and gazing at what he was so busy looking at, that took all his attention away from him.
Lance, the instant he sensed that Chris was looking over his shoulder, quickly shut the magazine.
"So, you're thinking of doing some more of that sexual kinky stuff again, huh Lance," Chris pried.
Getting a little edgy and pissed off, Lance just told Chris off, "Listen, Chris, you don't run my life. Why don't you just get the fuck outta here and go away."
"Sor-ry man," Chris backed up, holding his two hands up, like Lance was going to get defensive. A little teed off he replied, "you got a problem, Lance, you know it? You better get some help, man."
Chris turned and walked away. He wound up cursing saying to himself, "fuck that bastard. If he wants to go and get himself beat up, let him!" He didn't mean what he was saying. Chris was just pissed at Lance for speaking that way to him. "where does he get the nerve, after all we've been through..."
His mind wandered back to the first time they moved into the house together. Remembering the first time that they found out that they were both gay, he could recall Lance's words after just four days of meeting him, "too bad it took us this long to find out!" Chris smiled and giggled. In his own way his anger dissipated and Lance was forgiven. He could not be mad too long at a guy he really cared about.
That first day when he walked into the Compound and saw this gorgeous blonde on the telephone, bare-chested, As he walked in, the guy motioned for him to put his stuff "over there", pointing to a room across from where he was standing.
He excused himself for a moment, cuffing his hand over the phone and saying, "Just let me finish this call, and I will help you in a minute."
Chris could recall his thoughts of that very moment. "No problem handsome. My Pleasure!"
Lance headed off to the house. He opened the magazine once more, but then folded it as he entered the door, proceeding to the top floor. He threw the magazine down on the bed. The air was beginning to get warm, even though it was only the end of May. Stripping off his T-shirt and kicking his sneakers off, he headed for the small bar that they had brought into the room a few weeks after they moved in. Fixing himself a drink. He picked up the magazine. The thought of going to the shower appealed to him. He did not enjoy being sweaty. As he thought of being sweaty, he traced back to the thoughts that he relayed to Chris during their argument this afternoon. "Damn!" he shouted out half loud, smacking the magazine across his left hand. Thinking that he was so mean to Chris, he just could not live with the guilt.
Throwing the magazine on the bed and unbuttoning his jeans, stripping them down, he agreed with himself that he owed Chris a big apology. Knowing him for the last couple of months, he grew close to him, not only in sexual encounter, but also in friendship.
He tossed his jeans on the bed. Sitting on the bed, he peeled his socks off. Lance was "built", but not like that of a muscle stud. He worked out regularly and it showed. His body matched his 5'8 frame, except for a small belly just above his briefs. It wasn't to the point of calling it "fat", but when he rubbed his dark blonde fur on his stomach, he found his abs not chiseled like the guys who worked out everyday or even three days a week.
The contents of the magazine came back to him. Picking it up, he rearranged himself on the bed, being careful not to hit his head on the hardboard again, so that he could maneuver the periodical, laying it open on the bed. His left elbow was leaning on the bed supporting his body and his other hand was used to turn the pages. Quickly turning past pages of advertisements, CK's, Nomad aftershave, taking advantage of the pics of men in their briefs or dabbling toiletries on their perfectly formed bodies. He smiled when he saw a picture of a young guy in his Joe Boxers. He compared the ones he had on to the picture. Despite the bulge in the ad, the guy's body was almost a perfect match to his. The thick pubes showing out of the top - the guy's dark brown, compared to his dark blonde, the trail leading to his navel - "yup, the same" he agreed out loud. Every part of his hairy body matched the guy's - big patch on the stomach with the thick trail heading up to his chest, fanning out over his pecs, covering his nips.
As Lance surveyed the likenesses, his fingers started at the base of his navel. Utilizing only his thumb and two first fingers, he played with the start of his trail and as he ascended, stuck his index finger in his navel. Being very sensitive, he played with his navel, forgetting about the guy in the magazine for a moment, rolling over oh his back. One of the most sensitive areas of his body being the deep recess in his stomach, he pushed his finger in, grabbed the side of his navel, pulling on it and then pushing. At the same time, he fingered the next sensitive area, fondling his right nip with his left hand. As he prodded both areas his Joe Boxers started to tent. This was just too hot a circumstance to pass up. His other hand migrated, without thought, up to his nipples, sometimes squeezing and pulling at them, pushing down on the centers and moving his fingers around and taking the tips in his fingernails, giving a firm painful, but pleasurable feeling.
This whole experience made his cock rigid and he proved it once again that just by stimulated areas of his body he could cum. He moaned loudly and moved his body up as if he were doing a sit-up as the cum was trapped in his briefs. Helping it become depleted, he put his right hand under the beltline and moved his sticky rod up and down, then finally just resorting to holding it at the base and squeezing upward. This was one hell of an orgasm he silently thought as he laid back, catching his breath. On instinct, his gooey hand pulled out of his briefs, mixing with the thick milky liquid of his sweating, hairy stomach.
In fact his whole body was sweating profusely from the exertion it took to build cum. Forgetting about the magazine now, he just closed his eyes for some rest.
Justin was at his bag, taking off his sweaty dance gear. Chris came up from behind, standing right at his back, then touched his shoulder, saying, "Justin, I jus.....AHHHHHHHHH", he cried out.
"Damn, don't sneak up on a guy like that....you alright buddy?" The cute hunk asked.
Chris held his crotch groaning, as he leaned against the wall and sank to his ass. He was still feeling the smarts from Justin turning around and accidentally hammering Chris's balls with his hefty elbow.
"Guess you came over to for the usual? Justin continued, "I guess you won't be playing today, huh?" He was remorseful and really felt sorry for him, trying to console the man with conversation. But he also had hidden motives. The guys told him to meet them later for a beer and he was tied down to this guy.
At 24, he still looked 19. Just the way you would picture a "a pop-star": the denim patterned buttoned down shirt, black leather pants, alligator boots and trendy shades. Perfect example! But there were things about Chris that attracted a guy. Where he lacked in the "looks", he made up for it underneath that pop-star image.
Justin helped Chris up with words of comfort, "listen Chris, I swear I didn't hear you..." helping him up to sit in a chair.
"I'm ok, Justin, just cut the crap and let's get on with it." Chris spoke to Justin in a more dominant method, with renewed spirit. "After all, I could use some healing magic. And lock the door, I want it in the shower."
Justin replied, "Oh, ok, that'll be something different."
"That'll be something different, what?" He spoke in that same dominant demeanor.
"Different, Sir!" Justin responded with a quick reply, knowing that if he upset his master that punishment would be due him. Not only did he look deceiving, but his acting skills were excellent as well.
Justin hurried to the door, locking it. When he came back, there stood Chris. Justin licked his lips as he saw the dark hairy chest and as it was exposed further, revealing the defined trail. Not waiting to be reminded, he stripped out of his own clothes, trying to keep up with Chris. They both were in the buff around the same time, except Chris, still dressed in his boxerbriefs.
"On your knees, loverboy!" Chris commanded, "hands behind your head! Now I want my underwear peeled off nice and slowly with your teeth."
"Yes, Sir!" Justin responded in a snap.
It was a sight that was very well protected from intruding eyes. Justin would be laughed at if the other guys knew what happened in the empty changing room on Friday nights. There, standing above this perfect specimen of a hunk was the likewise perfect man, with the few exceptions. No one knew that Chris was capable of pulling off such an act. This bond was only the secret of the two that practiced it.
In the first few days that Lance and Chris were together at the Compound, before they knew they were both gay, Chris would fantasize about having Lance tied up to a post and doing tortuous things to him. That changed over a short period of time as the boys got to know each other more intimately.
"Stop, loverboy!" Chris, a little angered, stated.
"Yes, Sir!" the hunk replied energetically.
The Latin hunk stopped and sat up on his knees as straight as he could, hands still behind his head. At 155 pounds, you would never notice with the 5'9 frame built around it that he wasn't more than 1500. His Latin goatee extended in thin lines back to his sideburns and his full head of hair. Thick, dark hair adorned his armpits.
Chris continued in an accusing manner, "what happened to your hairy body? Pecs? Stomach? Spread those knees loverkboy," he continued, kicking the Justin's knees apart. "You know I like hairy guys, now explain to me, and you better have a good reason!"
Justin was a bundle of meaningless words, with only a few coherent ones, "I.....Britney.......sex.....foreplay..." By the time Justin had finished his reasoning, the Master was fuming and ready to punish him right then and there, but he had further plans for this bumbling idiot.
"Ahhhhhh," Lance stretched, putting his hands on the slats at the top of his head, pulling and stretching his body to wake up. He had had a peaceful rest after his orgasm. Taking his right hand away, he rubbed it from the top of his chest, down over his nip and continued till he reached the dried cum sticking to his stomach hair. Taking both hands and sticking his thumbs up under his briefs, he pushed them back. His briefs adhered to his now soft cock, but the separating of the material from the flesh and hair caused a short moment of renewed pleasuring.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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