Brians Visit

Brian's visit - version 2.0.0 (June-August 2009) (NC-reluctant, auth, cum denial, humil, feet, extensive drug use, unsafe-sex)

stories@nc.rr.com

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of FICTION - any similarity to actual people or events is entirely coincidental. It contains adult subject matter and should not be read by any minor, person who would find such material offensive, or if it is illegal in your area. If you meet these conditions, please delete this file from your computer. This work is not to be reproduced in any manner without prior approval from the author.

SPOILER ALERT: If you read the original version of this story, you might be interested in the changes I've made. If you'd like to read them, scroll to the end. If you'd rather be surprised, wait `til you're finished.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Brian's Visit" was my first story on Nifty, originally posted seven years ago. Though this version keeps the same plot and characters, I've made widespread corrections to grammar and text to make reading easier, such as fixing my bad habit of putting dialogue and narration in the same paragraph and my apparent inability to use contractions. Additionally, Brian's character has been fleshed out a bit and the last chapter contains new information revealing his motivation for the events chronicled in this story. If you were a fan of the original, don't worry, nothing fundamental to the design changed, but this one should be easier on the eyes.

Thanks for all your support!

CHAPTER ONE -- BRIAN'S ARRIVAL

It had been a long week, each day more mind-numbing than the last. As a computer support technician, for every problem I solved, ten more seemed to be waiting. Desperately in need of a break, I was looking forward to the extended Memorial Day weekend, more than ever since my roommate from college was moving back to town. Until Brian could get settled and find an apartment, I'd agreed to let him stay at my house. Having graduated just three years ago, my career was on track and I'd done pretty well. Using a loan from my parents as a down payment, I'd purchased a nice house on the outskirts of town. Despite my good fortune, I wasn't happy and despised living alone. I did the exact same things every day, usually in the same order; get up, go to work, drive home, work out, watch television, jerk off, and go to bed. It was time for a change; that much was clear. With Brian stepping back into the picture, maybe I could learn to enjoy life again.

And Brian knew how to have fun, maybe too much fun. He'd recently been fired and had always been a pothead; during college we both were, but I wasn't the type to go looking for a supply. I'd smoke when it was available, but once I ran out, that was it until I was lucky enough to get hooked up again. Brian, on the other hand, always had an ample stash. In fact, we were habitually high during our junior and senior years, sometimes even heading to class that way. As best friends and roommates, we spent so much time together our friends joked that we'd started to look alike. Each around 5'11", Brian was about ten pounds heavier but the difference was all muscle. I'd never been able to build mass as easily as him. We were both blonde, mine slightly darker, and wore it buzzed since it made it easier to roll out of bed in the morning and just get on with the day. I hadn't seen him in nearly three years and wondered what he looked like now, if he'd changed much. I hoped not. I really needed to have a good time this weekend.

I took Friday afternoon off, going home early to work out. Looking back, I don't know why that seemed so important, for him to see me looking my best. Maybe it was because he was more built than I'd ever be or maybe I just didn't want him thinking that my job had completely sucked the life out of me.

Stripping down in front of the mirror, I reviewed my body, picking out the parts I liked and the areas that needed further work. My legs were coming along well, but were still runner's legs, defined but not cut. My chest and arms were gaining definition but would never be as nice as Brian's. My abdominals were my best feature. I'd never had a problem with weight and since I'd been focusing on them, they were really ripped, forming a nice, six-pack washboard. Nodding in approval, I slipped into my thin onionskin shorts and began today's workout.

About an hour later, just as I was finishing the last set, the doorbell rang. It was only 4:00 PM and Brian wasn't due until six, but as I peeked through the blinds, I saw a cab in my driveway and Brian standing on the porch. Running down the hall, I opened the door to greet my guest.

"Ricky! Damn man, I must have interrupted something," he said while looking me up and down. Since I tend to sweat profusely during workouts, my shorts were clinging to me like a second skin. My cock was clearly visible through the thin, wet material.

"SHIT! Sorry about that," I apologized while adjusting myself. "I wasn't expecting you this early and was trying to squeeze in a workout..."

He wasn't listening though. As soon as I started to speak, he turned and waved to the driver that it was OK to leave. Apparently, he wasn't sure I'd be home yet and didn't want to be stuck waiting on my front porch if I was still at work. As he turned toward me again, I regained enough composure to look at him. His hair was as short as I'd ever seen, almost shaven, with only a slight layer of blonde fuzz covering his head. He was wearing a tank top and cut-off shorts with a pair of worn flip-flops covering his large feet. I found myself a bit envious of his form; the bastard was still in fantastic shape. Even after just completing a workout, my body still didn't look that well-defined.

"Don't worry about it," he said, dismissing the obscene condition of my shorts. "I'm glad to see you still train. It's been a long time, man! I'm looking forward to having some fun this weekend."

I invited him inside, noticing his smell when he bent to pick up his bags. Granted, it was hot today and he'd been traveling, but he smelled like he hadn't showered in days. Of course, I couldn't really talk; the workout had built up a ripe funk on me as well. Forgetting my embarrassment, we moved to the living room to catch up. He told me about losing his job following a random drug test and how he'd not been able to find another quickly enough to keep his apartment. I interrupted him briefly and asked if he wanted a beer.

"Hell yes! It's been a long damn day."

When I returned with his drink, Brian was resting his arms over the back of the sofa, having already slipped his feet from his flips. Relaxing in my favorite chair, I already felt better about life. This was nice; kicking back and having a beer with a buddy, just being at ease with each other. It almost seemed like we were still in college, neither of us needing to impress the other, unconcerned with how we smelled or what we were wearing.

"So you were saying you got busted?" I prompted, wanting to hear more of his story.

"Not by the law or anything," he corrected. "...just lost my job. You remember, man. I never could turn down weed."

I laughed out loud. Shit, did I remember!

"I don't think I've had any since graduation," I noted. "My life really got boring after college."

"Looks like you're doing OK. I mean, the house is nice."

"...Yeah? Let me show you around."

We stood with our drinks and, after adjusting my shorts so my cock wasn't quite as obvious, I gave him a short tour of my house before leading him out to the deck.

"It's a pretty cool place to live," I continued. "I had to get a place out here in the woods `cause I couldn't afford anything closer to the city. The nearest neighbor is almost a mile away. There's a lake down that path in the woods. It's quiet too, sometimes too damn quiet..."

We sat on the deck, catching up and filling in the details of our lives from the past three years. I got the impression Brian was distracted, as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn't figure out how to get the ball rolling, an usual problem for him to say the least. I dismissed this gut feeling almost immediately, assuming I was simply projecting my problems onto him and knowing that if he had something to say, he'd get around to it eventually.

We continued to relax and talk, enjoying the early evening air, until he mentioned he was hungry. I quickly offered to order a pizza.

"You mean they deliver out here in hillbilly country?" he teased.

I chuckled with him, knowing it was just a joke. And honestly, it felt refreshing to have someone to share a laugh. We went inside and I called in a pizza while he rummaged through his bags. When I got off the phone, he stood and looked at me.

"Since I had to take the bus, I've been on the road a few days. All the clothes in my bags are dirty. Do you have a washer and dryer?"

"Yeah, they're behind the folding doors at the end of the hall. Do you need something to wear?"

"Nah, that's OK. I've got one clean pair of boxers left."

I watched him walk barefoot down my hallway, smelling the sweat he left in his wake. Part of me wanted to suggest he take a shower. But then again, when we were in college, we frequently sat around in our underwear (or even less). And since we used to be workout partners, it wasn't like we'd never smelled each other's funk. Besides, if he cleaned up, I'd probably end up showering too and this carefree feeling was nice, a welcome change from being perfectly scrubbed for work.

Minutes later, the washing machine kicked on. When Brian emerged from the laundry, he was wearing plain white boxers, the same type he'd always preferred. It wasn't until he stepped back into the living room that I noticed how old and threadbare they were. He plopped down on the sofa and asked for a second beer. After returning with one for each of us, I sat across from him and noticed that the crotch of his boxers was practically gone. Several little tears ran along the side of his bulge and his sitting position was causing the fly to gape open, giving me an effortless view of his bush. I'd seen his body before; in college we saw each other naked all the time. Somehow though, this just felt different, odd, and a bit uncomfortable. Had I changed that much since college? Had work so drained me of spontaneity that I couldn't even relax with a friend? As Brian extended his arms upward and stretched, I stared at his chest for a moment as it flexed, my eyes moving to the thick bushes growing from his pits, partially the source of his smell. When he arched his back, we both heard the sound of fabric ripping. Looking quickly down to his crotch, we laughed once we realized that one of the small holes had widened, exposing his left nut.

"Fuck man! How old are those things?" I asked through my chuckles.

"I don't remember. They're pretty far gone, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I'll say. You want something else to wear? I got plenty of things that would fit you."

I couldn't believe I'd just said that. I was sounding more and more like a prude every minute.

"It doesn't bother me," he answered casually. "...unless it's bothering you. Besides, it's not like you got a lot covering your stuff either."

Glancing at my crotch, I noticed my onionskin shorts. Though completely dry by now, they'd bunched up tightly around my groin, exposing the curly hairs of my scrotum. Laughing together, I managed to relax. Brian always seemed to know how to calm me down when I was beginning to get too uptight.

We sat for a while longer, waiting for the pizza and making small talk, before Brian grabbed his backpack from the floor, casually reached inside and pulled out his bong. I couldn't believe he still had the same one we used in college. There were a lot of good memories associated with that pipe. He went to kitchen, continuing to talk as he put some water in it, and returned to pack a bowl. He took a deep hit, holding it as he passed the pipe. I hadn't smoked in a while and was more than ready. That first hit had some bite to it, causing me to cough a little, and I knew immediately this was some awesome green. After finishing the first bowl, Brian was in the process of packing another when the doorbell rang.

"Pizza's here!" I shouted, jumping from my chair to find my wallet.

"I got this one," he offered. "Consider it a `thank you' for letting me crash here."

Returning to my seat, I hid the bong under the coffee table, out of sight. Not like it mattered, the entire living room was filled with smoke and the sweet smell of pot was flooding the place. Brian brazenly walked to the door wearing nothing more than his worn boxers, answering it before I could suggest he cover up. The pizza guy stared at him for a moment with a shocked look on his face before breaking into a wide grin.

"Smells like a party in there," he observed.

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "Nothing gets you hungry like weed."

"Lucky bastards!" he said with a smile. "Wish I was doing that instead of delivering pizzas..."

"Come in and have a hit," Brian offered. "You can consider it part of your tip!"

I couldn't believe my ears! He'd just invited a total stranger inside to smoke weed. The guy shuffled into the room, said "hello" to me, and introduced himself as Tim. Brian pulled the bong from under the coffee table and passed it to our new guest. Tim sat beside Brian on the sofa, took a long, deep draw from the especially potent grass, and stretched back as he held it for full effect.

An attractive guy, Tim was probably in his early twenties. He had long, black hair that fell to his shoulders and was thin, slimmer than either of us, but it suited him. While he stretched, I looked down at his filthy sneakers. Damn, did they look old! They were worn through in several places, revealing his grungy, off-white athletic socks through the holes. Tim returned the bong to Brian, thanked us for the hit, and stood to leave. After Brian paid him, he surprised me by asking the guy if he wanted to swing by after work.

Almost as an afterthought, Brian asked me if that was OK, as if I could say no after the invitation was already out there. In fact, I'd been looking forward to spending the night alone with Brian, catching up on old times and reliving old memories. I hadn't wanted a party, but what could I do?

"Sure, I guess that'd be cool," I reluctantly consented. "What time do you get off?"

"Not until midnight," Tim answered. "...is that too late?"

Actually, that was too late, for me anyway. I'd fallen into the habit of going to bed early. Given how exhausting my week had been, I was already tired. I surely didn't want to be entertaining guests after midnight. Then I reminded myself that this was what I wanted, to break out of the tedious rut in which I was mired. I had known Brian wouldn't let things get boring during his visit, but this was still unexpected.

Brian never gave me a chance to answer Tim's question. Instead, he just slapped Tim on the back and walked him to the door, telling him we'd be here, adding that we'd be stoned off our asses, but we'd be here.

After he left, I almost said something to Brian about inviting strangers into my house, but decided to let it slide. We sat in the living room and ate our pizza, tossing back more beer and doing bong hits for about an hour before moving outside to the deck. By now, we were both pretty much wasted and I was more relaxed than I'd been in a long time. The sun was just now beginning to set and the air felt great outside.

Instead of sitting down right away, Brian walked to the edge of the deck, pulled out his dick, and started pissing over the side. I felt conflicted once more, the various parts of me battling to determine my reaction. Two or three years ago, I'd have just started laughing or simply ignored him, but now I felt this was inappropriate behavior. While I was still thinking, Brian stuffed his dick back inside his worn boxers and took a seat on the deck chair beside me.

"Dude, you seem uptight," he noted. "Is everything ok?"

Smoking pot had slowed my responses, causing it to seem like an eternity before I turned my head. Once I did, I noticed that the last few drops of his piss had leaked from his penis, staining the thin, white material and making it practically see-through. My mouth felt parched and I took a sip from my beer, trying to tear my eyes from his crotch long enough to answer the question.

"I've just lived alone for too long," I finally responded.

He shifted in his seat as if he was struggling to pay attention (he most likely was after all the pot we'd smoked). As he did, his prick moved in his shorts, falling down the side with the rips, allowing me to sneak a peek at the skin-covered head. I had to snap out of this! Why was I still looking? By our senior year, Brian and I had seen each other naked hundreds of times. On more than one occasion, we'd even jerked-off together, usually after getting stoned or drunk, but I couldn't remember ever being this fascinated with his dick.

"Well, I'm here now," he said with an encouraging pat on my shoulder. "If you're looking to get outta your rut, then I'm your man!"

"I think that's what I need. Living alone has really impaired my social skills," I replied with a laugh. "Hey, I need a cigarette. You want another beer while I'm up?"

"Sure," he answered. "...hey, my cigs are in my backpack. You mind bringing `em out on your way back?"

Standing on shaky legs, I felt proud that I'd gotten through that tense situation without raising suspicions over my awkward, baffling stare. I then reminded myself of how paranoid I get when I smoke weed. Since this stuff was powerful and I was stoning big time, perhaps the whole thing was just in my mind.

After grabbing my smokes from the counter and a few extra beers, I opened Brian's backpack to hunt for his cigarettes. A wide grin spread across my face when I discovered a stack of pornography tucked away in the bottom. I didn't see much and wasn't about to go through his stuff, but I saw enough to realize his tastes had changed. The cover of the top magazine had been ripped, leaving the image only partially visible. The intact portion displayed an angry-looking man with ropes, apparently in the process of tying up someone. Unfortunately, that someone was missing since that's where the cover had been torn. Whoever she was, I certainly didn't envy her.

I grabbed his cigarettes and took everything outside. When Brian reached for his beer, he accidentally tipped it over, spilling it into his lap, causing him to leap from his chair as if he'd seen a snake. When my pot-lazy eyes at last focused, I nearly choked on my beer. His threadbare boxers were totally soaked and the fabric might as well have been plastic wrap. While he laughed feverishly, my eyes zeroed in on his cock. I'd never noticed the massive vein running along his shaft, winding up from underneath and changing directions abruptly just behind the skin-covered rim of the head before meandering back into the bush of thick, dark blonde pubes. Each time he laughed, his enormous balls bounced vigorously in response to the motion. Even soft, this cock was simply spectacular, worthy of a porn star. Awestruck, I knew I needed to do something before he noticed me looking. Forcing my eyes to break the lock they'd made on his crotch, I finally began to laugh.

Hopefully, I could play off this latest indiscretion as well.

"SHIT! You're completely soaked," I said. "Let me get something else for you to wear."

"No need bro...I'll just free-ball it."

His fingers reached for the waistband of his wet shorts and started to pull them down. Just before exposing his cock, he paused and looked at me.

"...unless that's gonna bother you."

There it was - decision time. The bastard was gonna get naked in front of me. Worse, I was being asked to consent to it.

"What the hell," I responded. "Nobody's gonna see..."

He slid the smelly, beer-soaked boxers down to the wooden deck and pulled his dirty feet through the openings. When he stood up, he playfully twirled the drenched shorts around on his index finger, like some kind of stripper. He was obviously feeling no pain.

Though I was enjoying the little show Brian was putting on, I still felt uncomfortable. After all the working out I'd done lately, it was nice to look at another guy's body, for comparison purposes of course. I'd recently started to record my workouts to watch them later and evaluate my progress. Sometimes those videos made me horny and I'd end up masturbating as I watched. A similar sense of arousal overcame me now.

There Brian stood, with his faultless body, a body he rarely worked on anymore, still looking better than I ever would. I stared openly at his well-proportioned arms and chest as he twirled his sloppy shorts around, his narrow, defined waist grinding at the hips. Brian's prick was still soft and flopped up and down as he playfully gyrated. I watched his muscular thighs and calves, and then moved my eyes farther down, to his large, strong feet and perfectly formed toes. The bastard looked like a Greek statue and didn't even know it.

He noticed my preoccupation and abruptly stopped his dance.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked.

"I don't know, man," I sluggishly responded. "Maybe I'm just tired, maybe it's the pot. It's been a long time since I've had any. I don't know..."

"Yeah, you do. You're just not telling me. Come on, dude. Spill it. What's going on?"

He was looking down at me now, almost glaring, while moving back to his chair. Though he was still completely naked, he appeared serious about having this conversation. I decided to just talk to him.

"It's just that I never do anything spontaneous anymore. I have the most boring, regular schedule you could imagine. The scary part is, now that you're here, I thought I could kick back and act like I did in college, you know, have some fun. But I can't seem to relax enough to do it. You said I looked uptight before. Well, you're right; I am uptight. Even with the pot, even though I'm seriously stoned right now, I'm still thinking about how things are gonna look, whether or not we should be acting like this."

"I can put on some clothes if you want," he offered. "Does it bother you that I'm naked?"

"Yes and no. I mean, it doesn't bother me like I think it's wrong or anything..."

"Then what is it?" he insisted.

"I don't know..."

"Are you afraid you'll get turned on?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No," I said flatly, glaring at him over the rim of my beer.

"Stand up and take your shorts off..."

"Hell, no," I objected. "...I'm not gonna sit out here naked."

Truth be told, I often came out on the deck without any clothes on. No one would ever see me this far off the main road and I had no close neighbors. There wasn't anything to worry about.

"Oh come on," he continued. "You said you didn't like who you've become. Then just decide you're gonna change. Make a choice, dude. Do something wild. Have another beer. Smoke some more green. Sit out here with your old buddy naked. It's not like I can't see through your flimsy shorts anyway."

He was right. I didn't need to be this uptight. I could try to relax and enjoy being with my best friend, just like when we were roommates. I stood, shucked off my shorts, and took another swig of beer.

"Happy?" I replied sarcastically.

"Are you?"

"...Bastard!"

He started laughing again. Every time we argued in college, I'd end up calling him a bastard, especially when I was losing, and he reminded me of that fact. The conversation lightened up after I lost the shorts and we continued to toss back beer after beer, emptying the bong more than once. A few times, we stopped talking altogether and just sat there, looking past the deck to the trees and feeling the air on our naked bodies.

I couldn't keep my eyes off him. His entire body, from his nearly shaved head to his massive, dirty feet, fascinated me.

It was during one of our quiet moments that I once again caught myself staring at his package. He was sitting next to me with his feet propped up on the railing, as relaxed as he could get without passing out. Then he lowered the foot closest to me, placing it on the deck, effectively spreading his legs since the other foot remained perched on the rail. A gentle breeze caught the smell of his crotch and blew it past my face. I instinctively breathed it in, not caring anymore that it wasn't the kind of thing I'd normally do. His limp cock was surrounded by a nest of soft, dirty-blonde pubes, lying over his nuts, and his foreskin was hanging well beyond the head of his dick.

As I continued to stare, it appeared as though Brian's cock was growing larger. It was clearly chubbing up, right before my eyes! At first, the entire thing swelled noticeably, followed quickly by an impressive extension in length. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like I could see his heartbeat. It wasn't yet firm enough to lift the heavy shaft from his balls, but it was unquestionably on its way. Glancing apprehensively at Brian's face to make sure he hadn't noticed me watching, I luckily found his eyes shut. By the time my attention returned to his growing erection, it was suspended in mid-air, starting its upward swing, but still not completely hard. His pulse was now unquestionably visible as it swayed and grew firmer, more rigid. The hood of skin looked tighter, but had not yet begun to retreat from the head. The thickening cock leisurely bobbed several more times before swelling dauntingly and snapping toward his stomach with a smacking sound, fully hard and throbbing. His balls looked like they were alive, the heavy nuts rolling around vigorously in the sack.

"Nice, ain't it?" he asked.

Mortified, I nearly fell out of my chair. He'd just caught me staring at him while he grew a bone. I tried to think of something clever to say but couldn't find the words. Finally, I decided to just tell the truth.

"Yeah, it's a nice one. How big is that thing anyway?"

He started to laugh uncontrollably, sounding a bit crazy.

"Actually, I was talking about the pot, but since you mentioned it, I guess my dick is pretty nice too. I've never really measured it. Well, not since I first started getting wood. But I'm sure it's grown some since I was thirteen..."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "...go get a ruler and we'll check..."

By this time, I was beyond protest. Drunk and stoned, I walked into the house to find a ruler. Though I wasn't hard myself, my cock was hanging heavier than normal and it wouldn't take much to bring on an erection. Though it seemed odd that this was turning me on, I just wanted to see what would happen. After returning to the deck with the ruler, I held it out for Brian but he refused to take it. Rather, he simply stared at me. For a second, I thought he was so out of it he'd forgotten why he sent me in the house.

...Until he spoke.

"Do it for me..."

Dumbstruck, I stood frozen momentarily, feeling blood rush to my own cock. It wouldn't be long before it was standing at attention.

"You gotta be kidding...right?" I joked. "I don't wanna touch it. Measure it yourself..."

"Stop playing games, Ricky. You've wanted to touch it since I got here. Don't you think I noticed the way you've been staring at me?"

He paused for a moment, letting the words hang in the air uncomfortably. I felt my heartbeat in my dick and knew it was on the rise, but was powerless to stop it. When I refused to answer, he added...

"And I can see the thought of touching it is turning you on. I mean, look at your dick..."

Lowering my gaze to my crotch, it was obvious that I was aroused, my cock betraying me by standing hard and rigid while he watched. Before I looked back toward Brian, I noticed my slit start to glisten from the precum moving inside the shaft.

"I'm sorry, Brian," I apologized. "I know this looks weird. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"It's OK, Ricky. Look, I'm your best friend, or at least I was in school. We can tell each other anything. As far as I'm concerned it's no big deal. It doesn't change who you are. I don't care if you're straight, bisexual, gay, or just curious; I honestly don't give a shit. But it's obvious that you're turned on right now and I think you should just go with it. Who better to explore that with than a good friend? I sure as hell don't want you experimenting with some stranger in an adult bookstore or something. You could hook up with the wrong person at the wrong time and get the shit beat out of you, or worse..."

The moisture at the tip of my cock began to gather into a drop and slowly oozed down the rigid shaft of my prick. I could feel the sliding wetness but was afraid to make any move to halt the trickle of slippery fluid. I couldn't even bring myself to look down. He continued...

"Here's what I think you should do. Start by just measuring it for me, that's all. It'll give you an excuse to touch it and maybe that'll be enough to satisfy your curiosity. If not, we can decide if you wanna try something else. Dude, it's just us out here, nobody's gonna see..."

He lowered his voice to a whisper before adding, "Let me help you..."

My cock pounded several more times and the drops of goo became heavy enough to form a strand dangling from the slit. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and the thread gradually lengthened, stretching almost to the deck before breaking off and landing on my naked foot.

"What do you say?" Brian prompted. "Just measure it for me..."

Moving closer to my buddy, I prepared to do as he asked. Just before I started, I abruptly stopped in my tracks.

"I, I don't really...well, I don't know what to do," I stammered, no longer wanting to protest, but honestly now knowing how to proceed.

"Here, this should make it easier..."

He stood and offered me his chair, then moved in front of me. His hard dick swung only inches away. He hadn't touched it and the foreskin still clung tightly to the head, as if refusing to let go. His meat jutted up toward his face, hard as stone, providing an excellent view of his large nuts. Without speaking a word, he allowed me to stare unashamedly, to slowly fall under the spell being cast by his maleness.

Then I did something that set him off...

I licked my lips...

"Yeah, that's it, Ricky," he teased. "Just look at it, take it ALLLL in, like you're trying to memorize it. Remember, you're just trying to satisfy your curiosity. Don't worry, it's not gonna hurt you to stare at it. Actually, I think it's kinda cool that you like it so much, kinda makes me feel good, like we're sharing something special. Now go ahead and measure it."

Lifting the ruler in my shaking hand, I placed it near his throbbing dick without touching it, as if this incredible erection deserved respect and I had no right to disturb it.

"You'll never get it measured right that way," he complained from above.

"How should I do it?" I asked timidly without breaking eye-contact with his pulsing cock.

"For god's sake, Ricky - use your hand!" he answered, sounding a little annoyed. "Pull it down so it's pointing straight out, then push the end of the ruler into my pubes and measure where the tip comes to. Jesus, dude -- get with the program!"

He punctuated his final words with a gentle, playful smack to the back of my head to get me moving.

I cautiously reached forward and wrapped my fingers around the solid shaft. My mind was spinning, unable to comprehend how different another guy's cock felt in my hand. Assuming it would feel identical to mine, I was startled by the heat. My God, the heat was intense, like it was burning the skin of my fingers! I pulled down, or at least I tried. Not understanding the firmness of his erection initially, I failed to apply enough force. Adjusting the position of my hand, I found a firmer grip and pulled again, unintentionally sliding his foreskin away from the head of his dick. He moaned slightly and for some reason that pleased me. The bright, red crown of his cock was slimy and wet from the collected precum, which had gathered inside the skin instead of dripping off drop by drop like mine. I moved the ruler into place and pushed the end into his dark blonde pubes until his skin provided resistance. Then, laying the flat edge along the upper side of his cock, I read the number that matched the flared gooey tip.

"What does it say?" he asked.

I didn't look up when I spoke, refusing to take my eyes off the amazing, pulsing erection I held in my hand.

"SHIT! That fucker is over eight inches, man! Wait, wait, wait - to be exact, it's eight and five-eights..."

"How big is yours?"

"I don't know..."

Brian didn't need to ask me to check. The combination of beer and weed, along with my unambiguous sexual heat, had washed away any and all shame over what we were doing. Standing quickly, I pushed the ruler into my own pubes and laid my rigid dick out to measure it, getting it slick with my own prejizz.

"You got me beat, dude!" I said excitedly, soundly vaguely childish. "Mine's only seven and three-eights..."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. I think average is somewhere around six or something. Looks like we're both blessed in that department, though I'm clearly a little more blessed than you..."

We both laughed at his humor in pointing out the obvious. I knew his joke wasn't meant as an insult and, even if it had been, I don't think I'd have cared at that moment. We returned to our deck chairs and Brian snatched up the bong to pack another bowl, casually talking the entire time...

"So, Ricky... What'd you think of that? You know, touching my dick?"

"It was interesting," I answered, trying to sound unaffected by the experience.

"Don't make it sound like a damn science experiment!" he snapped. "Did you like it? Be honest, I'll know if you're lying..."

"Yeah, I guess it was OK. Alright, I liked it..."

I couldn't believe I'd just admitted that. There was no humiliation in the declaration; I'd come to trust him, even with something embarrassing. Like he said, he was just trying to help me understand why I was so curious.

"I liked it too," he confessed, making me feel even more at ease in the process. "It was kinda nice to feel you touch me like that. When we were still in college, I used to wonder what it would feel like to have a guy touch me, but back then I'd have never done it. It's nice to know you like my body. Dude, you can touch me any damn time you want! I just don't wanna push you or anything. It has to be your decision..."

He waited a few moments, taking a hit off the bong before continuing, leaning forward in his chair toward me and lowering his voice as if he was about to tell me a secret...

"Listen, that pizza guy won't be here for at least another two hours, if he shows up at all. Let's try something before he gets here. Any part of my body you wanna touch is yours. Do anything you want; it'll stay between us. After you start, if you don't like what you're doing, all you need to do is stop. It's obvious you're still curious and I wanna help you..."

"I'm not sure we should be doing that, Brian..."

"How about we start with something simple? I'd really appreciate a foot massage. There's nothing sexual about a guy's feet and you'd actually be doing me a favor. After you've done that, if you wanna keep going, maybe touch some other parts, that'll be OK with me. If you'd rather stop, that'll be fine too. It'll just help you get started, help you get accustomed to touching my body. What do you say?"

While thinking over his proposal, I took a hit off the bong. Despite his promises to the contrary, I knew full well that this would fundamentally change our relationship, but by now my hormones were raging. Even though this was new to me, I decided to just go for it. After all, I'd been hoping for some excitement this weekend.

Finally looking up at Brian, I said...

"I'll do it..."

"Great, buddy. I really need a foot rub. Get down there and make my feet feel good. Do a good job now, Ricky..."

His subtle change in tone was utterly lost on me, given my haze of pot and growing sexual heat. After sitting on the deck, I reached for his left foot and lifted it, placing it on my lap. Wasting no time, I used my thumbs to dig into the arch, giving his foot the relaxing massage he'd requested. Brian moaned in appreciation and adjusted his position in the chair, moving his foot to within inches of my drippy cock. As he did, he stretched his toes, wriggling them in the air, causing the smell to waft up to my nose.

"That feels really good, buddy," he praised. "Sorry they smell bad..."

"They're not that bad," I lied, trying not to hurt his feelings. In fact, they smelled quite intense, musky and harsh. It was startling they smelled at all given that he'd been wearing flip-flops rather than sneakers.

"You're crazy, man! They fucking reek!" he laughed. "I haven't showered in a couple of days, so I know they're not clean. Shit, I can smell em from up here. I was wearing my trainers without socks for the past forty-eight hours, you know, during the trip, so I guess the stink made its way into the skin. I only changed into the flips to let em air out a bit."

"I don't mind," I said rather passively.

"Maybe you're into smells. That wouldn't be so unusual for guys like you..."

My eyes shot up swiftly and I narrowed them, silently indicating I hadn't appreciated that statement. He immediately tried to undo the damage...

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. Jesus, relax man! It's just that for some guys, smells can be just as stimulating as what they see or feel. It's possible you might be one of those guys. You should find out, dude..."

"I don't think so, Brian."

"Oh, stop your whining," he said dismissively. "You've come this far. Don't be a pussy. Take a whiff and tell me what you think..."

Before I had time to resist, he lifted his foot and placed it right in my face. I almost said no, instantly considering standing up and calling the whole thing off, but for some reason I didn't. Instead, I simply sat on the deck with his foot in my face before taking an obviously deep breath through my nose. My cock dripped several fresh beads of precum as the scent of his dirty, unwashed foot made its way to my brain. This was the smell of a man; whether I was prepared to admit it or not, I was turned on by it.

So was Brian...

"Oh yeah, that's it! Get into it. Dude, it's really hot the way your cock slimes all over itself with my foot in your face. You must like it..."

He pushed his foot even closer, his toes actually brushing against my lips. Given that my cock was now in complete control of my actions, my mouth opened and I stuck out my tongue, gently licking around his enormous big toe. Then, moving my hands to hold his foot to my mouth, I began to bathe them with my tongue. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I'd regret giving in to this pleasure, but at the moment, this was all I wanted in the whole world.

"Fuck yeah," Brian encouraged. "Put my toes in your mouth and suck `em, dude! Ricky, you're really into this. Your dick is drooling like crazy."

Without even looking, I knew he was telling the truth. I could feel the slippery precum running down my cock, collecting around my nuts before dripping onto the deck below. His other foot moved to my crotch and he ran his big toe along the pulsing shaft before lifting the now slimy toe to my face, replacing his other foot.

"See how much goo you're leaking, dude?" he teased with the wagging, precum-covered toe in my face. "Lick it up, Ricky..."

Though I couldn't understand why his feet were affecting me this way, I really didn't care at this point. Without hesitation, I extended my tongue and licked my own prefuck off his toe, further wetting it with my own saliva.

"That's it man, give in to it! Let yourself go. You know what feels good and so does your dick, dude. Just forget about how ridiculous you look and let yourself do what feels right. I love seeing you down there like that, getting off on my dirty feet, getting off on the smell of a man..."

Curiously, his lewd prompting seemed to make me even hungrier. I grabbed both feet and held them tightly to my face, running my tongue between his toes, licking up the accumulated dirt and sweat. My balls were churning and my groin was tightening, suddenly close to orgasm. Even without touching myself, I was about to blow an incredible load.

Brian knew this too...

Wrenching his feet from my hands, he gently slapped me across the face with one of them.

"Don't cum yet," he scolded. "It's too early..."

He then propped his feet on the table and proceeded to inspect them.

"You got `em pretty clean, man. Who needs a shower when you're around?"

When he started to laugh, it was different somehow. For the first time tonight, I felt he was laughing at me instead of with me.

"Get back in your chair, dude," he demanded. Then, as he held out the bong, he added, "Here, take another hit..."

My cock swung awkwardly in the air as I stood, flinging precum onto the deck, with a long, nasty strand stubbornly hanging from the tip. I'd never been this turned on in my entire life. I didn't want any more pot. I just wanted to cum. But Brian wasn't about to let that happen. Instead of sitting, I grabbed my dick and brazenly started masturbating right in front of him, desperate to relieve the pressure building in my nuts. I knew it wouldn't take but a few strokes and was almost over the edge before Brian stood and aggressively wrestled my hand from my dick.

"I said to sit down, goddamnit!" he growled menacingly.

"But I need to cum, really bad," I whined.

"We'll get to that, but it's not time yet. Now sit!"

He pushed me toward my chair and I sat obediently, wondering why he didn't want to let me get off.

"Why won't you let me do it?" I asked. "You said I should be spontaneous and get into it, but now you won't let me finish. Why?"

"The most important word in that question was `finish'. That's just what it is with most guys. Get your nut and then you're done. Well, that's a huge waste, man. Sex is fun and when something is fun, you should make it last as long as possible. Really get into it and stretch the whole experience out. Tell me, Ricky, when you jerk off, how long does it usually take?"

"I don't know...about ten minutes, maybe fifteen if I'm drunk."

"I used to be the same way. Whack off really fast and be done with it. But you haven't experienced anything until you've held it back for a while, let it build and build before you blow. Shit dude, that's one of the most awesome experiences in the world! I'd like to share that with you. I wanna teach you how to make something as incredible as sex last longer than ten or fifteen minutes."

"I don't know if I can, Brian. I mean, just look at me..."

He leaned forward in his seat and took a long, scrutinizing look at my crotch. My cock was as solid as I'd ever seen it, swollen, red, and dripping absurd amounts of lube. Brian looked from my crotch up to my face.

"Close your eyes for a second," he ordered.

Once they were shut, he continued...

"Now, just think about your cock, think about the way it feels spiking up in the air like that, drooling all over the place, completely out of control. Tell me, how does that feel?"

"It feels wonderful," I answered. "You know that. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world."

"Then for fuck's sake, why do you want it to end so fast? It's only 10:30. We got all night. Well, maybe not all night since I asked that pizza guy over, but we still got plenty of time. You can make it last longer, feeling the pressure in your cock growing until you finally explode like never before. Aren't you the least bit curious about how long you can last? Don't you wonder how that would feel, to nut after a couple hours of playing with it?"

"...A couple of hours!" I shouted in disbelief. "Brian, there's no way in hell I can last that long. Even if I don't touch it, it's liable to just go off by itself."

"I know. Mine does the same thing sometimes. Don't worry about it. You just need a little training and I can help with that."

"What do you mean?"

"I could show you an awesome time tonight if you'd just let me, but you'd have to do it my way, follow my instructions..."

Brian suddenly grimaced in mid-sentence, as if he was reconsidering his offer. After a short pause, he continued...

"You know what? You're a little too uptight. I'm not sure you could let yourself go quite that much. You're probably not interested in the kind of experience I'm talking about."

"It just seems a little over the top to me," I argued. "I mean, following your instructions? This is my house. I'll just go to the bedroom and finish up in there."

As I started to rise, I noted the unusual expression on Brian's face. He took a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to control his temper.

"Ricky," he said calmly. "You're starting to irritate me. Part of you wants to know more, the same part that was curious about my body, curious about my feet, my smell. When I showed up this afternoon, you had no idea you'd end up touching my cock, or massaging my feet, or licking them for that matter. But you did and your dick loved it. You gave in and the reward was pleasure, wasn't it? I wish you'd let me teach you. You'd only be admitting what we both already know."

I remained silent for a few moments, considering his words. I needed to know more before making a decision.

"It would depend on the rules..." I said as I sat back down.

"There are only two," Brian explained. "First, you can't touch your own cock. I won't allow it, no matter how much you need to cum. You don't have the necessary control or enough knowledge of your body to gauge when to stop."

"Brian, I already told you. That doesn't always work. Sometimes it just goes off by itself."

"Let me worry about that, OK? I'm gonna be your coach through this. I'll do my best to keep that from happening until we're ready."

"OK. What's the second rule?"

"Simple, you agree to try anything I suggest. If you discover you don't like it, feel free to stop anytime you want. But you can't just say no without trying first."

"I can't agree to that," I objected. "...not without knowing what you're gonna ask me to do! Besides, this is starting to sound like the kinda stuff faggots do..."

Back in college, I'd heard Brian use that word hundreds of times. It was almost part of his daily vocabulary. But when he heard me say it here on the deck, his reaction was instantaneous and dreadfully grim. His face fell without warning and his jaw clenched. His fingers drew into a fist. Having lived with him continuously for four years, I knew I had angered him. For a brief moment, it seemed as though he was about to leap from his chair and beat me to death. Instead, he took a second to gather himself. When he spoke, his purposefully calm tone masked how enraged he really was.

"You shouldn't use that word, Ricky -- especially you, especially not tonight while you're sitting out here with a drippy boner, a boner you threw after touching my cock. Shit, you almost nutted with my foot in your goddamn mouth! I don't think you'd enjoy being called that name..."

Following this stern reprimand, Brian shot me a look of pure disgust, the expression tinged with a slight hint of disappointment as well. He appeared to be trying to think of what to say next...

"Fine, go to your room and jerk off," he said harshly. "A lot of things have changed with me over the past three years, Ricky -- things we haven't gotten around to talking about yet. But after what you just said, I don't think I can anymore. I was just trying to help you, but I...you know what, just never mind! I should've known better than to think you were ready for this. You've changed since we were roommates, and it's not been for the best..."

He stood and headed for the sliding glass door, unmistakably seething with hostility. I couldn't let him leave like this.

"Brian, wait!" I called out after him.

I didn't have time to seriously consider what I was about to get myself into, but that didn't matter. If agreeing to his terms would make him happy, then that's what I'd do. Maybe, he was right. Maybe I'd enjoy it...

"I'll do it..." I said impulsively.

He turned to face me, his frustrated expression gradually giving way to curiosity.

"You agree to both rules?" he prompted, wanting to make certain I was serious.

"Yes," I consented.

"And you won't try to back out once we get started?"

"No, I'll do whatever you say."

Brian returned to his seat with a cocky smirk across his face, a look I'd never seen him use with me before. I gazed at his crotch and noticed his hardon had subsided somewhat. The hood of skin had reclaimed his cockhead, a sticky strand of goo hanging from the bunched up folds at the tip. As he sat down, he casually adjusted his balls and spent a moment staring at me, sizing me up, and letting the importance of what I'd just agreed to do sink in.

"Get on your knees," he ordered.

"What?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him correctly.

He jumped out of his seat and grabbed the back of my head with enough force to startle me, but not enough to cause any pain. He tilted my head up until our eyes met. He spoke in slow, deliberate, careful words...

"Don't question me. Remember, you try everything you're told. If you don't like it after you try it, you can stop. But don't question me again. Understood?"

He continued to hold my head in his hands until he got the answer he was seeking. I nodded passively that I understood. After releasing me, he returned to his chair.

"Good. Now let's try that again. Get on your knees."

I did exactly as he demanded, a little shaken by his sudden attitude shift but still trusting he wouldn't make me do anything I wouldn't enjoy. He smiled when he noticed how quickly I obeyed this time.

"Now get over here and take another look at my cock, a real close look. That's how all this started anyway, you not being able to tear your eyes away from my dick. Well, it's gone soft and I'm guessing you'd like to see it bone up again. Get your face over here, really close to my balls."

Now on my knees, I crawled between his legs. He wasn't satisfied.

"No, get closer...closer."

My nose was within inches of his cock and balls when he once again grabbed the back of my head and forced it into his crotch, my mouth actually touching his balls and soft, gooey dick.

"Now, take a deep breath and hold it in..."

As I inhaled, the sweaty, musky smell of man-crotch hit my brain like a drug. My own dick suddenly lurched, becoming agonizingly hard. My knees were hurting from the wood of the deck but I didn't care. I took one deep breath after another before actually starting to move my face around in his crotch, sniffing him, covering every inch, as if I was trying to capture all his smells without letting any escape. Brian took one of his hands off the back of my head and positioned his heavy cock so it was lying across my face while I continued to root around near his sack. I felt his slimy precum ooze over my forehead. This only served to set me off further. Without prompting, I used my nose to pry under his balls, lifting the loose skin of his scrotum, and sniffing under each nut in turn. Something clicked in the back of my mind and I knew I was in trouble, knew I was hooked. Brian was certain to use my eagerness against me, but there was nothing I could do to stop myself.

These fears were well grounded...

"Damn, dude! You look like a fucking pig down there sniffing all over my sweaty nuts. Shit, I know that's gotta stink, but there you are, getting off on it. I can't see your dick from up here but, from the way you're rooting around in my funk, it's gotta be just pounding..."

He removed his other hand from my head, freeing me from any coercion at all. I heard his lighter flick and knew he had lit a cigarette. The image of me on my knees between his legs, outside on my own deck, smelling his big nuts while he sat back and casually smoked sent me into overdrive. Knowing I should stop, knowing I should take my head away from his sack, I just couldn't. To me, Brian's smell was exhilarating and instantly addictive. As I kept inhaling his ball sweat, I felt more of his precum leak from the tip of his cock.

"Shit, little piggy can't get enough, can he?" Brian teased. "I knew it, fucking knew it all along. A guy can't fake that kind of enthusiasm. I figured you'd like it, but fuck! You're about to inhale my goddamn sack!"

My face flushed with humiliation but still remained buried. He raised a foot off the deck, pressed it against my chest, and pushed me off his crotch. Startled, I fell backwards on my ass. Looking up, I noticed his cock was once again bone hard and instantly tried to return to him. He anticipated the move, however, and used his foot to block me.

"Hey! Not so fast, fucker! I wanna make this last a while. Your little piggy sniffing got me a little hotter than I expected. You should be flattered, it means I like you. But my dick needs to cool down some before I let you back on it."

Indifferent to my needs, Brian casually opened another bottle of beer and took a large swig, staring me down for a few moments before speaking again.

"Man, I knew you were gonna like that, but you were fucking into it! Tell me how much you liked it."

"I can't do that, Brian. It's too embarrassing..."

He answered by giving me another foot slap across the face.

"Wrong answer, faggot!" he said coldly.

When I opened my mouth to object to the use of that term, he ruthlessly added, "Boy, don't you fucking complain about being called that name. You're the one that started it! Consider this sensitivity training. After this weekend, I doubt you'll ever use that word again..."

I was afraid now. This situation was getting out of control. I was out of control. I'd just acted like a complete whore; no, worse than a whore! I'd never seen a bitch in a porno get off on a guy's crotch like I just did. Worse, Brian was either too high, drunk, or both to be predictable. To question him again might get me hurt. He glared at me, apparently irritated by my continued silence.

"Tell me how much you liked it!" he repeated angrily.

Unable to look him in the face, I lowered my eyes to the deck as I answered, losing a little more of my rapidly dwindling dignity.

"It was overwhelming," I quietly admitted. "The smell was incredible. I never thought something like that could get me so turned on..."

Mortified to be saying those words, I was even more embarrassed that they were the truth. Brian just stared at me, almost contemptuously, for more than a few seconds before standing and moving toward the sliding glass door. He paused as his hand reached for the handle.

"I'm going inside to get my bag. You stay where you are. Don't move a muscle or even think about touching your cock. Do you understand?"

After I nodded my understanding, he stared for a moment, apparently contemplating my non-verbal response.

"You're pissing me off, Ricky. I'm tired of watching you nod at me. You have a voice...use it."

"I understand, Brian. I won't move..."

"...and," he prompted.

I swallowed hard before answering.

"...and I won't touch my dick."

Brian smiled when he realized how quickly his control over me was growing. He disappeared briefly inside the house, returning a few seconds later with his bag. He sat in front of me and began to look for something in one of the side pockets. Once he located the object of his search, he passed it to me along with my half-empty beer. It was a tiny, white, unknown tablet.

"Go on, Ricky, take it," he ordered.

"What is it?"

Brian immediately showed his frustration at the inquiry.

"Are you TRYING to get me mad enough to hit you? NO QUESTIONS! I'll tell you what it is after you take it."

Putting the chalky tablet in my mouth, I washed it down with a swig of stale beer.

"That was a tab of ecstasy," he explained. "It'll put you in a really nice place where you won't analyze every goddamn thing like you've done so far. I think you'll like it. It'll take about twenty minutes to kick in, so we need to do something that won't make you blow your nut before then."

He paused for a moment as he thought.

"Just go down on my feet again, but you'd better not touch your cock or lose your nut. If you start to get close, let me know and I'll help you calm down. Once the pill kicks in, we'll move on..."

He pulled his watch from his bag and put it on the table in front of him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

His tone indicated that resistance might earn me another slap. I straight away reached for his feet with my hands.

"No Ricky, don't touch `em," he warned. "Use your mouth!"

Putting my hands on the deck, I leaned forward and began to lick his feet while he packed yet another bowl into the pipe. Initially, I simply licked the tops of his feet, wetting the tuffs of hair with my spit. Moving down, I began to lick at the hairs that sprang from the joints of each toe. Despite the fact that I felt forced to do this, in some ways I felt privileged to be on my knees servicing him. My cock was dripping again, a new batch slipping out and sliding down my rock-hard prick, tickling my balls as it gathered and dripped off on the deck below. I never realized how drippy I could get since it usually got rubbed in as I jerked off. But now, unable to touch it, the slippery juice was free to run all over the place.

I lifted my head discretely to look up at Brian and found he wasn't even paying attention; rather, his face was turned to the woods as he silently sipped another beer. I was strangely disappointed. I'd enjoyed the way he spoke to me earlier and, though the thought appalled me, I missed the lewd, nasty talk from my college buddy. When my tongue slipped between his toes, Brian rewarded this behavior by spreading them and tilting his entire foot up, lifting the sole off the deck and allowing me to access his smelly toes. I worked each one slowly, sucking them as best I could in this awkward position.

Brian was fumbling around in his bag again. By this time, I was into my work and didn't bother to look until I saw a bright flash of light. Gazing up, I was shocked to find he was holding a digital camera, the device having just captured the first of many pictures to be taken that night. He met my gaze and glared back, speaking slowly and purposefully...

"GET BACK TO WORK!"

Embarrassed and beaten, I lowered myself back to his feet. Then I felt the drug hit. With the big toe of his right foot in my mouth, my skin began to tingle over my entire body. My cock lurched and throbbed wildly, just seconds from shooting a massive load.

I moaned loudly and Brian knew I was about to cum...

With amazing speed, he grabbed the back of my head and tossed me backward. I knocked over the chair nearest me and fell on my haunches in the corner of the deck. Looking up, I saw Brian towering over me, his half-hard cock jutting from his body, the skin pulled over the head with a slimy thread of goo hanging from the tip. Mesmerized and now thoroughly high, all I could do was stare at it.

Brian's sudden movements had brought me back from the brink of orgasm and I just squatted in front of him, panting, admiring his crotch. He gently lifted his half-swollen prick and pointed it at my face, holding the camera with the other hand.

"Open your mouth!" he instructed.

I don't know why I obeyed, but I instantly regretted it. As I crouched open-mouthed in front of his cock, it suddenly began to spew forth a stream of hot piss, the first blast of which caught me right in the mouth. At that same moment, another bright flash of light rendered me temporarily blind. When my lethargic reflexes correctly determined what was happening, I promptly shut my mouth and attempted to scramble out of the way. Brian was far too quick for me, however, and his strong arm released his cock and grabbed my head. He didn't bother trying to re-open my mouth, choosing instead to simply position my head under his still gushing cock. I felt his piss cover my head and face, running down my chest, pooling near my naked feet, before dripping through the slats in the deck. He pushed my head backward, out of his way, and aimed the last strong spurts at my cock. The heat of the fluid was unbelievable and, in spite of the humiliation, my urge to cum returned. Then, just as suddenly as it began, this nightmare was over. Brian stood over me, clearly amused, shaking the last drops of smelly piss from his skin-covered cockhead.

"That's right, Ricky! That really just happened. You didn't imagine it. You just took a man's piss and you're still hard. I figured you would be. You hardly even struggled. I probably could've talked you into it, but was afraid you'd just bitch. Thought it would be better to take you by surprise. From the look of your dick, I think you liked it. Go on; look at your cock..."

As I looked down, I was truly mortified by what I found. My rigid cock was thrashing uncontrollably, one or two strokes from orgasm. The entire organ was engorged obscenely, covered in slippery precum. Though obviously turned on, I wasn't ready to admit that to Brian.

Angry and embarrassed, on the verge of tears, my voice cracked as I started to complain.

"It's that fucking drug you gave me," I whined while trying to spit out the remnants of his piss. "Anyway, you said that when I was ready to quit we could. Well, I've had enough! I don't wanna do anything else..."

Brian merely turned around and returned to his seat. He lit a cigarette and stared at me, still crouching timidly on the deck, covered in his piss with my hard cock dripping and jutting out from my crotch. He sat there for a few long, uncomfortable moments before finally speaking...

"Tough! That's what the camera is for. I knew you'd try to back out, so I thought I'd take some pictures to keep you in line."

He sighed heavily and lowered his voice before continuing.

"Look Ricky, you don't need to be afraid of me. Believe it or not, I'm still your friend. I like you, probably more than you realize right now. It's obvious you're enjoying this; you just can't admit it, not yet anyway. If your cock were soft right now, I'd delete these pictures and forget the whole thing. But since it's not, I intend to make you finish what you started. Otherwise, these pictures might mysteriously show up in your boss's inbox. Actually, I think I still have your mother's email address somewhere..."

I was beaten. There was no getting out of this except to let him proceed with my "training". He was right about one thing; I was horny and needed to get off. Though this was degrading, at least my body was enjoying it. I looked up at Brian and he saw from my expression that I'd do anything he asked.

"How close are you to shooting?" he asked.

"I'm really close," I admitted. "It could happen any time..."

"Stand up and wait `til you back off the edge a little."

Doing as he commanded, I stood in the corner of the deck, being careful not to stimulate my cock in the slightest. We must've waited ten minutes, but finally my cock began to sag a bit as his piss dried on my body, making me feel chilled. By now, the ecstasy had fully taken effect and the sensation of cold was magnified beyond anything I'd ever felt. Brian noticed me begin to shiver and grabbed his bag, motioning for me to go inside. Following me, he shut and locked the glass door before facing me. His eyes were captivating, charismatic, almost hypnotic, and I could not break free of their stare. He moved the coffee table away from the couch and motioned for me to sit. Forgetting that I smelled of piss, I naively sat on the soft, upholstered cushions.

Brian wasn't long in correcting this mistake...

"Get on the floor, bitch!"

After moving to comply, Brian gathered my wrists behind my back. More quickly than I could've anticipated, he wrapped a supple rope securely around them, tying it off in an unyielding knot. He then pulled the remaining end of the rope down and fastened it around my ankles. Once done, he stood to admire his handiwork and saw me kneeling on my living room floor, wrists bound behind my back, anchored to my ankles. Though it wasn't very comfortable, it wasn't painful either. Still, my movements were undeniably limited.

I was his, and he knew it...

Brian circled me like an animal for a few minutes before casually sitting on the couch and lighting another cigarette, blowing his smoke toward me each time he exhaled, never speaking a word, but never allowing me to escape his brutal stare. He was enjoying the discomfort of this situation, enjoying the mix of fear, anticipation, and pleasure he found in my eyes, and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

"Look at your fucking cock!" he commanded as he took the last draw off his cigarette.

I obeyed, knowing what I would find. My dick was back to full mast again, turned on my nothing more than his stare and the thought that I was his to do with as he pleased, that whatever he planned to do, I was powerless to stop it. The slit of my cock was oozing a steady stream of juice now; in fact, the entire quivering shaft was covered in dick slime.

"I think it's time for something I'm gonna enjoy," he explained. "I've let you at my feet twice already tonight. And I gave you the chance to sniff my balls. Hell, I even let you taste my piss. Now it's time for the real thing. You're finally gonna get to suck it. But not right away. No, that'd be too quick for me. Remember, I like to make it last a while too..."

He looked up at the clock and saw it was 11:20.

"You aren't allowed to make me sling it before midnight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Brian. I understand..."

My gaze was already fixed on the enormous, skin-covered cock that was drooling on my couch. He wasn't fully hard and the weight of his dick had it lying on the cushions instead of pointing toward his face, as it had been when he first sat down. I shivered at the thought of tasting his wetness. I still couldn't admit it, but I definitely wanted it. Brian chuckled to himself as he saw me staring, as if he knew exactly what was going on in my mind, knowing the private war I was fighting between my brain and my dick, and knowing, in the end, which one would ultimately win.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he barked. "Get started already!"

I painfully inched forward on my knees once I realized Brian wasn't going to move. When I finally covered the distance between us, I lowered my head, almost arriving at his juiced-up cock before his hand slowed my descent.

"Just lick it a while first," he coached. "You may need some instructions if you're gonna make it until midnight."

Extending my tongue, I lowered my head until it made contact with the puckered folds of skin covering his cock, immediately tasting the salty tang of precum as I probed deeper and deeper into his foreskin. I could sense his dick was once again on the rise and heard him let out a soft moan, the sound setting me on fire. I tried to take the head of his cock in my mouth but was quickly pulled off.

"Are you deaf, boy? Look, I know you want this cock, but you WILL follow instructions. I told you to lick it, not suck. Lick until it's fully hard and the foreskin pulls off. Then we'll discover what other talents that mouth of yours might have."

Releasing my head, he relaxed into the soft cushions of the sofa while I submissively licked his growing bone using only my tongue. The weight of his cock rapidly gave way to the strength of his erection, forcing me to move closer as it bobbed and swayed in front of my face, now hanging half-hard, pulsing and moving around. Without hands, it was a challenge to capture it. My tongue got the foreskin as wet as possible and I drank down his precum every time another drop oozed from the folds. Just then, I witnessed the crimson head of his cock begin to emerge from the tight ring at the tip of his foreskin. It was amazing. The slimy dick pulsed again and the head pushed forward as the skin gave up the fight and slowly retreated. The throbbing meat slapped me across the face as it continued to thump and pulsate in mid-air. Extending my tongue again, I used it help the sticky head free the foreskin completely. Brian moaned as my tongue brushed over his naked cockhead. When the musk of his pent-up crown hit my brain, I moaned with him.

Unexpectedly, I became aware that I was about to cum. Terrified by what Brian might do if I shot, I fought to stay in control. It was a futile effort. Timidly, I gazed up and told him what was about to happen.

"Brian, if I keep doing this I'm gonna cum. I know you don't want me too, but I'm so fucking close!"

Watching closely for his reaction, I soon got one...

Brian stared at me for only a split-second before launching a big wad of spit at my face and pushing me backwards with his foot. Bound and off-balance, I fell on my side to the floor, my hard cock pulsing against the carpet, seconds from spewing its load. Brian stood and retrieved his bag, extracting a shorter length of rope. Separating my knees, he roughly manhandled my balls, pulling them away from my body before wrapping the rope around them, the pain bringing me back from the edge. Brian jiggled the rope for a few seconds, enjoying the fear in my eyes, before pulling it backward sharply and securing it to the rope around my ankles, feeling like he was gonna pull my nuts off. As I gathered my breath, he returned to the couch, complaining about my lack of control, teasing me for getting so close with nothing more than a cock in my face.

"Get the fuck back over here!" he yelled. "You got a job to finish..."

While struggling to return to my knees, I discovered that the rope around my nuts jerked my sack backward each time I moved, causing my erection to flail about from my crotch. Inching forward warily, the distance between us slowly closed. Once between his legs, he grabbed the back of my head and positioned his nasty cock right on my lips.

"Open up, Ricky. You've been wanting this all night..."

I opened my mouth and felt about three inches of his steely hard cock slip inside. He moaned loudly, temporarily satisfied, and just held it there for a few seconds, telling me how hot my mouth felt around his prick.

Holding my head steadfast, he began to pump it up and down on his drippy meat, farther and farther down the shaft until the thick head began to strike the back of my throat. I felt the urge to gag each time it touched this spot but Brian didn't care. Tears began to well in my eyes, an autonomic reflex when a person feels they're choking. Through those tears, I could see that at least half of his cock was still outside my mouth.

How far did he intend to go?

The answer came moments later when he pulled my face clear of his cock and held it firmly less than an inch from the angry, flared head. He didn't let me turn to look at him, but I heard him say...

"Take a long, really deep breath through your mouth..."

As soon as I began to inhale, he slammed my head brutally onto his crotch, his dirty cock pausing for only a moment when it bumped into my throat and slid down the relaxed orifice. Of course, once I realized what had just happened, my throat was no longer relaxed. While I gagged continuously, he pushed me down to his pubes, my throat convulsing over and over around the thick invader.

"Fuck YES!" he screamed loudly, making me glad I had no close neighbors. "Shit, that's it, Ricky! It's like your throat is trying to get me to cum all by itself. Goddamnit, your throat was made for cock, made to let a man sling his baby-maker's down there..."

Just before I thought I'd pass out, he lifted my head long enough for a quick gasp of air. Thick, nasty strands of saliva came gushing from my mouth, coating his pulsating shaft. The consistency of whipped cum, the disgusting, bubble-filled fluid slipped nastily over his balls, soiling my couch. When he shoved my head back down, he had a more difficult time ramming it into my throat since he no longer had the element of surprise. Still, he managed to force it inside, until my nose was buried in his sweaty pubes. I gagged again, my mouth producing another glob of mucus, lubricating his cock for each thrust to come. This time, he didn't hold me down as long before letting me up for air and soon settled into a long, slow, deep throat fuck. As I calmed down, I began to get a grip on my breathing, timing my inhalations to occur at the precise moment his cock exited my throat. Brian was absolutely in control, never releasing my head for even a second. Spit and precum were everywhere; a fucking river of white, foamy saliva dripped from his balls, onto my couch, and oozed to the floor.

Brian continued his verbal assault as well...

"Yeah, you fucking bitch, take my cock! Take it all the way to the root! You've been dreaming about this big, thick uncut cock for years, haven't you? Admit it, Ricky. Seeing me naked when we were in college must've been a real treat for you. I bet you used to frig that little prick of yours every time I left for class. When we'd beat off together, you were imagining about how it would feel to get my dicksnot all over you. Shit, wouldn't surprise me to find out you used to lick it off the floor after I was done. I gotta admit you hid it well; I mean, just the two of us cooped up in that tiny room, my dirty socks and underwear lying around everywhere, smelling up the place. Bet you got into those smells back then, too. From the way you got into my feet tonight, I know you musta sprung a bone every time you walked into our room..."

He wrapped the large toes of his right foot around the rope linking my balls and ankles and started to tug at it repeatedly, yanking it in time with his thrusts. My cock began to sling juice everywhere. If I had not been so concerned with choking, I'd have exploded immediately from the rough jiggling. As it was, I was hanging on the edge, experiencing and relishing the awesome feeling of impending orgasm.

Brian continued his diatribe...

"I bet you couldn't wait to see my dick this weekend, could you? Maybe that was the reason you invited me to stay here. Shit dude, you got more than you bargained for this time, didn't you? I knew there was a submissive little boy in you somewhere. Lucky for you, I'm just the kinda man to bring out those tendencies. We can talk later about all the things I've learned since college. I still can't believe how fucking wet you got measuring my cock, or how hot you got while sucking my toes! Shit, you almost lost your load with my big toe in you mouth! I mean, that's just fucked up..."

His thrusts were coming quicker now and I detected a new wave of swelling traveling up his cock.

Brian was getting close...

"Remember how you rooted around my balls, boy? Shit, you looked like a fucking pig down there sniffing my sack. Now you've got the whole thing, right down your throat, just like you always wanted. My thick, uncut cock, the same cock that pissed in your face, is plowing your mouth. You're about to milk the nasty sperm outta my nuts and that fucking makes you hot, doesn't it? It takes you right to the edge, thinking about tasting my jizz. Well, bitch, get ready! Here it comes!!!"

Time slowed to a crawl. Brian's cock swelled impossibly large and the first violent wave of jizz traveled up his shaft, emptying far down my throat. Knowing I was gonna cum too, I prepared for my own, long-awaited orgasm but was interrupted when he painfully gripped the back of my head and forced me off his dick. With unbelievable swiftness for a man in mid-orgasm, he angled my skull backward awkwardly and sat on the edge of the sofa, with the head of his cock less than an inch from my mouth. It shuddered again, with nothing to hold it steady, spewing a second substantial load on my face, from my hairline to my chin. I wanted to cum with him, but my aching scalp caused me to lose focus; with the haze of drugs, my body just couldn't go over the edge. A third blast coated my right cheek and hastily ran down my chin, mingling with what was already there, gaining enough weight to slip off and splash onto the floor.

Unexpectedly, Brian removed a single hand from my head and used it to pull his foreskin up and over the still spouting crown of his dick, securely pinching it off between his thumb and forefinger. The skin began to swell and I knew he was pumping sperm into it. It ballooned even more and he tilted his head back in ecstasy. God, how I wanted to cum! Focusing on the underside of his shaft, I noticed the thick tube contract as yet another wave of cocksnot accumulated under the hood of skin. He yanked my head backward even further, looking down at me contemptuously, and hocked a nasty wad of spit into my open mouth.

"Since the first one went down your throat and you're wearing the second and third, my bitch roommate hasn't gotten to taste any yet. Is that what you want, faggot? You wanna taste the hot sperm inside this skin?"

Embarrassed and somewhat fearful, I nodded to indicate that I wanted it. He shook my head roughly and started to yell.

"I told you not to fucking nod at me! Use your goddamn mouth, bitch! Tell me what you want!"

"Please Brian, I wanna taste it," I answered, initially just to make him stop shaking my head. When he still seemed unsatisfied, I started to improvise.

Some dark, hidden part of my psyche gave birth to the following words. "Please don't waste it, Brian. I need to see what it tastes like. Please let me have it in my mouth..."

Though truly scared, I was more sexually aroused than I'd ever been, silently acknowledging to myself that I meant every humiliating word of that admission.

"Keep your mouth open, bitch!" he demanded. "Here it comes! Enjoy!"

He held his still pulsing cock over my open mouth as he inched closer, simply letting it hang suspended over my tongue for a moment, temptingly. He kept the skin pinched off, staring at me, drilling into my soul and watching for a reaction. After what seemed like an eternity, he skinned it back, giving me my first real taste of a man's semen. As the crown cleared the dank confines of his foreskin, the pent up jizz gushed out like a fountain, directly into my expectant, hungry mouth. The taste was incredible. Everything he'd said about me was true. I wanted to cry, I wanted to cum, I wanted to run away, I wanted to taste more of his cock, all at the same time. Closing my mouth, I moved the thick, creamy nut of my college buddy around with my tongue, savoring the musky flavor and heat of his load. He began to slap my cheeks with his slimy, spent cock, smearing spilt jizz around my face, before releasing my head long enough to take a few snapshots of his new pussyboy.

It barely registered in my turbulent mind that the doorbell was ringing.

Thanks for all the encouragement! Keep reading!