Introduction
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This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web site to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. As is clearly indicated in the story, the use of the word "boys" refers here to two short, effeminate men in their mid-20s.
Part 3: At the hotel
We'd arrived in the city. It was a rough drive through dozens of potholed streets in crazy traffic, swearing at the maps on our phones that didn't know where we were. But we got there. The place we were staying seemed fine: a quiet, just about clean, low-end business hotel. We got out of the car, stretched.
It was a shock to be in the city. Harry and me were dirty and dusty from days on the road. The two boys didn't look much better. Only the day before, when we first met them, they'd been smartly dressed. Now, their clothes were roughed up, their faces scuffed.
Anyway, Edgar, the manager, came out of the hotel to welcome us happily.
He was a shorter, queer version of Moses, the policeman who'd recommended the place to us. He openly eyed up Harry and me and guided Lucio into the hotel with a hand on the boy's plump arse.
"You are Moses' friends, yes? He told me you were coming."
I wasn't quite ready to call the cop who'd just stung us for $100 a "friend", but I returned Edgar's handshake. I gathered up everyone's passports and went with Harry to the reception desk to do the paperwork.
Edgar gave the two of us rooms next to each other. He looked over at the boys. "And I think the two young men can share with you?"
I ignored his smirk. "If you can put a mattress down on the floor for each of them, yes, that will be fine."
He leaned over to us. "You want anything else? You have two nice boys here, but you want more to play with?"
Harry glared at him.
"Or you want girls too?"
We weren't interested in whores. Harry took the point, though, that Edgar could source stuff that wasn't fully legal and opened a negotiation to buy some weed.
Meanwhile the only other hotel staff member, a tall and miserable 18 or 19 year old in a nylon uniform, carried our bags up to the rooms.
I shoved Lucio into one room to wait for Harry. I pushed Julien onto the bed in mine while I put the passports in the safe and locked it.
Julien looked up at me from the bed, nervous, but excited.
"Please I must use the bathroom first, shower."
I didn't say no. I knew enough about gay sex to know I didn't want shit on my dick.
Before he did, though, I wanted to have a good look at what I was getting. I told him to strip and get on all fours on the bed. Ignoring his ugly little cock and balls, I made him spread his cheeks and show me his pussy.
My normal porn choice is women getting ass-fucked. The arses I saw on screen were always big, with holes bleached, plucked, pink. Julien's was the opposite. His arse was rounded, but narrow, and wisps of smooth dark hair on the cheeks carried on to thickly line the inside of his crack.
The hole itself was a ring of dark flesh, slightly open. Weirdly, I quite liked it. The boy was clean but the hair made his pussy seem dirty in a hot way. Even the fact the hole wasn't tightly closed - that he'd clearly been well fucked more than a few times before - turned me on.
I smacked him on the arse and sent him off to the bathroom. I took my vest off, lay on the bed and flicked through some sorry TV channels while I waited for the bitch to wash himself. I wanked myself a bit, thought about what I was going to do to him. What Harry'd said in the car was right: this was a chance to do all the rough shit, to let myself go, get the testosterone out. These boys were so desperate for our dicks they'd take it all.
When he came out of the shower he was still a bit wet, naked. I got off the bed, walked over to him, pausing to grab a bottle of suntan lotion from my backpack.
I pinned him against the wall with my body, facing me. He looked tiny: I'm not much taller than him, but twice as broad. The thick wiry hair on my pecs almost brushed against the small bush of smooth, brown hairs on the boy's skinny olive-skinned chest. He smelt of his shower but, standing so close together, the smell of dusty sweat coming off my chest, pits and balls was far stronger. He was shaking with fear and excitement.
I dropped my shorts, put a blob of sun cream on my fat dick and wanked it in. He stared down at the glistening, over-filled, veiny tool that was going to skewer, stretch his cunt. But I got him by the hair, yanked his head back so he was looking me in the face.
"You want this?"
He mouthed "yes", barely able to speak.
To put him in his place, I put my hands on his shoulders, pushed him down onto the floor.
I put my foot on his chest. He curled up into a ball, sticking out his small naked arse. He was so pathetic. On instinct I rubbed my foot in his face.
"Open your mouth."
I forced my stinking foot between his lips. The feel of his tongue probing between my toes - even through my sock - was better than I'd expected. But I was too buzzing, too horned up, to keep him at that for long.
I told the boy to get up. Hungry for dick, he put himself facing the wall sticking his arse out towards me.
Putting one hand over his mouth, with the other I felt for his cunt and thrust my dick against it hard. Even though the slut's hole was already a bit broken in, I didn't get through. Three, four times, the same thing happened. For once I was starting to curse my sledgehammer of a dick. Then, the next time, he screamed briefly and I felt the first sense of a ring clamping tightly around my cock head.
I held it inside him a moment then pulled it out, punched it straight back in again up to the head, breaking him open wide enough to take me. "Please," he gasped. "You want me to stop?" I asked.
He looked back at me, his big brown eyes wide open. His face was wet with sweat and his little body was quivering, but he shook his head.
I pulled out and the next thrust I got half way before my dick was held tight by his sphincter. The boy yelped but now I didn't let up. Instead I kept up the pressure in my hips, forcing myself into his spasming cunt inch by inch.
Then I began pistoning my hips, fucking hard, deliberately. I kept my hand over his mouth but, from then on, he only let out little squeals.
It had been a long time since I'd been inside a bitch and I needed to nut urgently. I slammed into him, only thinking about the tight warm pressure around my cock. He turned round to look at me again. I spat in his face, then got my elbow round his neck, pulled him to me, told him he was a faggot, whore, piece of shit: the stuff that comes in your head when you're dick deep in a bitch.
It didn't take me long to shoot. I grabbed the bitch's narrow little hips, yanked him tight on to me, getting it in as deep as I could. I held myself there while - fuck knows - ten, twelve good shots of cum filled him up.
As soon as I pulled myself out of him, he slumped onto the floor, then crawled slowly over and up onto the bed. He lay face down moaning quietly. He touched his hole gently. It was red and wide open from the poorly-lubricated pounding it'd had from my thick dick. A stream of my cum dribbled out of him to wet the sheets.
I sat on the bed, panting from my work, and pulled his head into my lap. He had a final job to do. Opening his mouth with my fingers I slipped my softening, dripping dick into it. It was still a bit sensitive, but I let him clean the cum, oil and ass juice off it. He sucked on it like a baby.
Having fucked properly for the first time in weeks, I felt good. I got up and left Julien on the bed. I put my shorts on, took a beer, went out onto the balcony that linked my room to Harry's. Harry was on one of the two lounge chairs, rolling a joint; Lucio, obviously freshly showered, was dozing on the other.
Harry raised his eyebrows at me, "Sounded like you were killing him in there."
I just laughed, looked at the view of the city centre over the balcony. Lucio woke up, saw me standing next to him. He suggested I got him a beer and started talking some shit about the history of the city. He was an annoying little fuck. Unless Harry was constantly humiliating him, he just got in the way.
Harry always had a way to manage him, though.
After I'd ignored him for ten minutes, Lucio finally stopped talking, closed his eyes and start dozing again. That's when Harry stood up. He passed me the joint, motioned for me to be quiet. He walked the few steps to where Lucio was lying back, straddled his legs wide either side of the lounger and backed up until his arse was over Lucio's face. He pulled down the back of his shorts and sat down.
Suddenly awake, Lucio cried out. Harry lifted his big hairy arse off the boy's face an inch or two.
"What are you doing?" Lucio gasped.
"You need to start licking" Harry explained, calmly.
Lucio shouted, tried to wriggle out, but Harry just sat on him again, held him easily between his thighs. He ground his arse down, forcing Lucio's nose and mouth deep up his crack towards his hole.
"You had a shower yet?" I asked Harry.
He shook his head. Eight days on the road. The mix of days of unwashed sweat and shit round Harry's arsehole - that the boy was now breathing in, and that Harry wanted him to lick clean - was pretty unimaginable.
The boy wriggled. He obviously wasn't licking. Harry just forced himself further down onto his face. And, shortly after, realising it was the only way out, Lucio must have started doing what Harry wanted.
"That's it," Harry leaned back in the lounger, allowing a little more oxygen to get to the boy. He grunted with pleasure and reached for his beer.
I lay back on the other lounge chair for a while before I called Julien out of my room. I looked over at Harry.
"Hey can you spare me your little asslicker for a moment?" I asked him.
I had an idea for a few minutes' entertainment. The evening before the boys had shown off their pussies to us. Now that we'd used then both, I wanted a repeat.
Harry let Lucio, panting for fresh air, out from under him.
I told the boys to line up against the waist high wall of the balcony.
"Finger yourselves," I told them. "Do us another show."
Both boys had been through enough with us now that they obeyed straight away. Leaning against the wall, facing away from us, they started playing with themselves. Julien forced two fingers straight into his red, sticky asshole, started to fuck himself hard, my cum dripping out of him as he did it. Lucio, less recently fucked, went more slowly. He showed off his pink hole before licking his fingers, working one and then two in there, pulling them out from time to time to spread his cheeks and show us how his cunt was widening up in response.
I stretched out on the lounger, my dick hardening up again at the sight of their holes. I took my beer, leaned back, looked over the balcony at the sun setting over the city. Even at dusk it was still hot, and sweat dripped off the boys as they abused themselves for our inspection.
Harry and I drank, smoked, relaxed. After a while he called Lucio back. He got the lounge chair more upright, made the boy kneel on the floor, pushed his arse back into the boys face.
"Please," Lucio asked, "It's disgusting."
I looked over at Lucio. "You want to leave, faggot?" He glared at me, "No, he needs fuck me good after I do these horrible things."
Harry ignored him, and just pulled the boy's head deeper into his crack. "I want your tongue all the way in my hole this time."
Meanwhile, Julien looked back at me wanting permission to stop playing with himself. I nodded.
He came over and I told him to bend down. He could usefully do some more of what I'd started him doing in the bedroom.
I got him to take my socks off. I'd never had a girl lick my feet, even clean. But I soon learned what I like. I got the boy sucking each of my toes, licking the filth and sweat out from between them. From time to time I'd let him lick over the whole of my sole and then go back to my toes. I could control him easily in the job by keeping the other foot on his neck or kicking him lightly in the face when I wanted him to do something different.
If Lucio was having a gross time buried in Harry's hairy arse, the experience of licking my feet was only going to be slightly more pleasant. But we left the bitches at it for nearly an hour while we relaxed. We talked, chilled, drank, smoked, occasionally rubbing the lazy hard-ons that their tongues were giving us. I was starting to doze off when Harry leaned over. "You want to swap?" Though I'd never been that keen on getting rimmed, I was pretty loaded, I nodded without thinking.
Harry pulled Lucio by the hair out from under him. "Hey Lucy, another ass for you to eat." He turned the boys head towards me.
But Lucio immediately pushed himself as far away from Harry as he could within the narrow space of the balcony "No. I do no more. It is horrible. You pig men."
He carried on like that for a while. And, "Anyway, why clean his ass is not Julien's job?"
Harry squinted at Lucio, smiled, "So, you're saying no? OK."
Harry was silent for a few moments then stood up and went into his bedroom. Lucio looked after him, confused: he knew that saying no to Harry shouldn't be that easy.
After a minute or two Harry reappeared. He was carrying the heavy jeans he'd arrived in from rainy, cold England months before and hadn't worn since. It took me a moment to realise why. It wasn't the jeans that he wanted. He was slowly separating out the belt that he wore with them. It was a thick, leather belt and, as he wrapped it round his fist, Harry looked over steadily at Lucio. The boy, backed into the corner of the balcony looked suddenly very small.
Part 4: Moses the policeman decides on a further inspection.