Brother's Keeper
Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've submitted anything to Nifty. (You can find my earlier stories through the Prolific Authors page.) I wonder how many people still read online erotica with the free video porn sites now available. With this story, I'm dipping my toes into the water to find out. It can either stand alone or become the basis for a new series if there's an audience for it. Let me know at maineboyxy at yahoo dot com. Please include the title in the subject line so I know your message isn't spam. Thanks.
Disclaimer and Legal Stuff: Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?). If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it, and leave my name on it.
Brother's Keeper
by
MaineboyXY
Jeff Nelson yelped as I thrust my cock into his ass. It sounded like I'd kicked a puppy. Rather than stopping me, the noise urged me on and I sank the full length of my cut, 8" erection into his hole. As my balls pressed into his buttocks, he grunted. I looked down at his face as he lay under me, his knees pressed into his chest, to see him wince. I abruptly yanked my hips back and slid almost completely free of the tight clutch of his chute and then rapidly forced my way back in to the hilt. The motion rocked the bed forward, and the headboard slammed against the bedroom wall.
"Oh, fuck!" Jeff whimpered. I repeated the maneuver. Again the headboard slammed into the wall and again Jeff cried out.
"Fuck, dude! Go easy for once. Chris will hear us!" Jeff said, trying futilely to whisper, after the third iteration. I knew Chris would hear us. I specifically wanted him to hear us. I wanted him to know who owned his big brother's ass. So I pulled back and rammed in again.
The first thing you should know is that Chris Nelson is hot as fuck. The second thing you should know is that he wanted me.
His brother, Jeff, is my roommate. At least, I saw him as a roommate. He saw himself as my boyfriend. And that was why he kept bitching about me hooking up with other guys, especially when he was stuck at home studying or doing some domestic assignment I'd left for him.
See, Jeff isn't just a great bottom boy. He's naturally submissive, very enthusiastic, and always horny. He has a needy domestic side, too, so when he suggested before our junior year of college that we move in together, I figured I'd indulge him and use his eagerness to please to my advantage. And I did. By the time Chris had arrived for his visit, I hadn't touched a dish but to dirty it or a piece of laundry but to wear it for a couple months.
That may sound unfair but understand my position. Sure, Jeff and I had hooked up a few times in our first two years on campus. We'd even dated for a while, off and on. But I'd built up quite the reputation, topping just about every queer on campus. When Jeff and I moved in together, I took some ragging from our friends that I'd be settling down, that we'd be like an old married couple. I tried to explain that we were just roommates, but the fact that we slept in the same bed seemed to convince them otherwise.
It didn't take long to put that idea to rest. While Jeff was at home one Friday night, scrubbing the bathroom like the good boy I'd told him to be, I made an appearance at the local club and made liberal use of the back room. At first it was just to prove a point but then I decided I liked it and made it a regular thing about once a month. Needless to say, Jeff didn't like it but apparently he didn't dislike it enough to move out.
So our friends ragged Jeff, too. They said he'd become a bitch. Some of them would take him aside and earnestly explain to him how badly I treated him and how bad I was for him, detailing my extracurricular exploits and assuring him that he was better than that. But he always came back to me. And the guys would shake their heads and wonder why he did it.
I didn't wonder. I knew. I gave him what he needed. A little order in his life. A routine. Some discipline. And I fucked him fifteen ways from Sunday. I'd fuck him like a jackhammer and he would beg me to do it harder. And I would. I'd fuck his face but pull out before I busted my nut so he wouldn't have to swallow--ok, it was really because I wanted to paint his face--and after I slimed him with all I had he would reach for my cock, pull it back between his lips, and suck and tongue my knob to coax out more.
So as far as I was concerned, if we were a couple we were the perfect couple. I got what I wanted and Jeff got what he wanted. If he didn't, it's not like there was anything to keep him around. He was as free as I was. Except that he knew that if he went anywhere else for dick, he wouldn't get mine anymore. If he had a problem with me going out and getting some new ass or mouth, I just wouldn't use his.
Anyway, his kid brother, Chris, was getting ready to graduate high school in the spring. Jeff asked if he could come up on his fall break and crash at our place while he checked out the campus and the town to see if he wanted to apply here. I wasn't too keen on the idea of having some whiny high school brat hanging around for four days but eventually I gave in. I don't know why but it probably had to do with seizing another opportunity to humiliate Jeff.
So enter Chris into our idyllic household. When I met him for the first time, I could see the family resemblance. Both brothers were tall and lanky; both had sparkling green eyes; both had angular, Nordic faces. Chris had medium brown hair, and his brother's was about the same but had a hint of red that became more noticeable after he'd been out in the sun for most of the summer. While Jeff's hair was barely a half-inch long anywhere, Chris's hung shaggily over his ears, collar, and forehead.
But one thing was different: while Jeff, like me, was masculine and straight-acting, Chris was kind of effeminate. I couldn't quite tell if it was just because he was emo or if he was camp. He wasn't completely swishy, flopping his hands all over and lisping, but he just had certain mannerisms--like the way he held his head or flicked his bangs back off his brow--and a certain tone of voice. And he had deep, red lips and long, thick eyelashes, almost like he was wearing makeup, but he wasn't.
It's not like we had a guest room, but he was cool with taking the sofa. The first night he crashed there, Friday, I made sure to give Jeff some extra special attention. How I used Jeff might have technically been behind the closed bedroom door but that sure didn't stop the soundtrack from filling the whole apartment.
I expected breakfast to be a little awkward between them Saturday morning. I rolled out of bed and threw on some loose workout shorts before heading out to the kitchen. They were already there. Chris was eating some cereal at the table and Jeff was making me breakfast the way I liked it on the weekend: some toast and eggs, grapefruit juice, and coffee. I grabbed the coffee from the counter and headed over to the table as Jeff put the finishing touches on the eggs. I turned just in time to see Chris checking me out, his eyes quickly taking in my package and darting up my chest.
I'm a good-looking guy. (Otherwise, I wouldn't get all that ass.) I work out three times a week, play soccer and tennis, and get enough sun to keep the fluorescent, glow-in-the-dark look away. Like Jeff, I'm pretty much smooth all over, so you can see the musculature well. I've got blue eyes and blond hair, cut short but longer than Jeff's. And I'm big in the pants, too, so I'm sure Chris got an eye full of my junk swinging around free in those shorts when I turned around towards him.
I sat down across from him. With his brother's back turned, Chris wasn't even trying to be discreet. He was staring at my chest, then he looked up and smiled at me. "Fuck," I thought, "this kid wants it just as bad as his brother." Jeff plated my eggs, set them and the juice in front of me with some silverware, and announced that he was going to take a shower. He disappeared into the bedroom and I could hear the distant running of the water in the master bath.
No sooner had I picked up my fork than I felt Chris's toe nudge my balls. "Yo, what the fuck?" I asked, jumping back in my chair.
"I heard you guys last night," he answered. "It sounds like you know how to show a boy a good time." He slipped lower in his chair and his toe made contact again.
"Jesus Christ!" I shoved his foot out of my crotch. "I'm fucking your brother! Have you no fucking shame?" He gave me the sluttiest look I've ever seen and held my eyes while shaking his head slowly side-to-side.
"No, I'm completely shameless," he replied with a mischievous smile. He pushed his cereal away and stood up. He was wearing jeans and a green polo, tucked in only in the front. I realized how well the green shirt brought out the family eyes as he moved toward me and then sat in my lap sideways.
"What . . ." I started, but he held a finger to my lips and shushed me. He then wrapped one arm around my shoulders while the other traced over my chest to my arm, then down it to my hand, and slipped the fork away. He turned to my plate, used the fork to skewer a chunk of scrambled egg, and raised it to my lips.
"Open wide," he murmured, and moved the fork into my gaping mouth. I sat stunned. "Chew it up, daddy," he said. "I've got more."
"Holy shit," I thought as I closed and chewed. "I'm not into this daddy thing but this kid is fucking hot." I'd never had a trick feed me before. I started to feel my dick swell as the fork dipped over to the plate again and presented me with a new load of egg. Mechanically, I opened, closed, and chewed.
He put the fork down on the plate and picked up the glass of grapefruit juice. "Need something to wash it down with?" he asked. He held the glass to my lips and I sipped from it. He smiled, returned the glass to the table, and leaned in towards me. He ran his hand over my hair as he stuck out his tongue and licked the excess juice from my lips. "Mmmm," he moaned. "You're delicious."
Suddenly, I felt like I was in a B-grade porn movie. I shook myself out of my surprise and lust and slipped him out of my lap. He landed on his feet and stood, and I rose to confront him. "Seriously! What the fuck?! Your brother is in the next room!"
"I know. Ain't it a bitch? Can't you get rid of him so we can fuck?" he retorted. He emphasized the cattiness of the comment with a bang flick.
"What's wrong with you?" I couldn't believe how fucked up this family must be.
He stepped forward, pressed his hand between my legs, and grasped my half-hard cock. "I want to fuck with you. And I think you want to fuck with me." I moved my hands down to push him away but he grabbed my hip with his free hand and started stroking me in earnest with the other.
"Come on," he continued. "Jeff tells me you fuck with guys on the side. So why not me?"
"Uh, how about because you're his kid brother?"
"So what? Just think of me as a young, virgin version of Jeff."
"That's so fucked up . . ." I began, instinctively, without thinking. And then what he had said sank in. "Wait? You're a virgin?"
He nodded and licked his lips. "I've never been fucked. Never had a dick up my ass before."
"Holy shit." This time I said it out loud. My dick was really getting hard now, and Chris could tell, of course, because he was still stroking it. But he stopped suddenly and grabbed my hands. He moved them around his hips and rested them on his ass.
"Feel it?" he asked. "It's pristine. Like I've been saving it just for you."
I did feel his ass. Jeff was so tall and lanky that he barely had an ass. It was so flat, it could hardly keep his jeans up unless he cinched in his belt. Chris, though, had a hard, round ass. He didn't have any problems with his jeans sliding down, that's for sure. I kneaded his cheeks with my fingers, and holy fuck they were firm. Round like half a melon, but all muscle.
He returned his hands to my hips and leaned in, turning his head sideways so I could feel his long hair brush my collarbone. I felt a shiver and my nipples hardening. "So, you want to fuck with me after all?" he whispered.
"Fuck yeah," I mumbled in reply.
"Good," he whispered back and then licked my earlobe. Suddenly he dropped to his knees, sliding his front down mine, and my hands that had been pressing into his ass ran up his back as he descended and were now pressing into his head, which was pressing into my groin. He started rubbing his face against my balls and hard cock, sniffing loudly and moaning. "Oh, fuck!" he moaned. "Fuck, I love your smell." His voice was partly muffled by my package. "I can smell Jeff here, too, can't I?" he asked rhetorically. "Fuck, I love the thought of being with you while you're still wearing my brother's funk."
"God damn, you are one dirty, fucked up boy." I thought that I had thought it, but when he turned his face up to me and smiled wickedly, I realized that I had said it aloud.
"Oh, you don't know the ha . . ." he began, when we both heard the water shut off. His eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. He turned the corner of the table and sat back down in front of his cereal before I even knew he was gone, my hands still hovering idly in the air. I looked down at them, where he had been kneeling not five seconds before, and could see the precum--and possibly Chris's drool--splotching my crotch.
"Shit!" I said, and quickly sat back down and slid my chair forward, hiding my lap under the table. My cock was still hard as steel when Jeff padded into the kitchen, slightly moist and wearing nothing but a towel.
"So, you guys know what you're going to do today?" he asked innocently. Chris, bent forward over his bowl, shot me a dirty look from under the curtain of his bangs. I felt myself blush.
"Uh, no," I stumbled. "I mean, yeah, I think there's a game on that I want to catch. Are you two guys headed out somewhere?"
"Who's playing?" Chris asked, only to be ignored.
"Nah, I've got a paper due Monday, and I figured I should get it over with first. Then, after that, I thought maybe we could take Chris and show him around," Jeff answered. "That OK with you, bro?" he asked Chris as he opened the fridge and his head disappeared behind the door.
"Oh, crap!" I exclaimed, staring at the top of Chris's head. "You know, I think I left the laptop in my locker at the gym yesterday afternoon when I went spinning after class." I kicked Chris's leg under the table to get him to look up and nodded to the bedroom when we made eye contact. Jeff, still digging around in the fridge, was oblivious. "Bookbag, under the desk," I mouthed to Chris. He got my meaning instantly and grinned.
"Fuck," Jeff responded, emerging with the milk.
"Hey, I gotta take a leak," Chris interjected, and made himself scarce.
"I guess I can do it at the computer lab," Jeff decided as he raised the container to his lips.
"What the fuck?" I complained. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to drink the milk from the container?"
His brother gone from the room, Jeff wiped the moustache from his upper lip. "Jeez, Tom, I know. I'm sorry," he whined. He walked over, bent down, and nuzzled my ear. "I'll make it up to you tonight, OK? I just needed something white and creamy to drink. Maybe you won't mind if I drink something white and creamy from the container later." He kissed my cheek and turned away just as Chris reappeared in the doorway. He returned to the table and flashed me a thumbs-up after he passed Jeff. I felt my cock throb and turned down to my cold eggs.
An hour later, Chris and I were sitting at opposite ends of the living room sofa as I flicked through channels on tv. Jeff had finished washing the dishes from breakfast, had gotten dressed, and was on his way out. Chris had apparently hidden my backpack with the laptop in it under our bed, so Jeff still believed the tale I'd spun about having left it in my gym locker. He said his good-byes and headed out, slamming the door behind him like he always did, off to write his paper in the computer lab. The echo of the door hadn't even dissipated before Chris was all over me.
"Fuck! I thought he would never leave!" he said as he straddled my lap. His hands were roaming all over my pecs and abs, and he bent over to kiss my face. "I want you. I want you right fucking now," he said. I was kind of taken aback by how ravenous he was. It's like the boy had waited all his life to be with me and now he had his chance. He planted his hands on the sides of my head and starting devouring my mouth, sucking my tongue into his mouth and plunging his into mine. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't rock hard from the minute he touched me.
We made out like that for about five minutes when he broke off and leaned back and peeled off his shirt. Now, like I said, Jeff is tall and lanky, and Chris looked that way through his clothes, too. But while his brother was pretty much skin and bones, Chris had layers and layers of lean muscle clinging to his skeleton. I didn't even notice it until his shirt came off to reveal the tight plates of his pecs.
I don't know what kind of sports or exercise the kid's into, but his body has that look of an Eastern European kid from back in the Soviet days when there wasn't any food, who had been working the fields day in and day out. Chiseled and sinewy. And, unlike Jeff and me, who are pretty much smooth all over except our pits, pubes, and lower arms and legs, Chris has hair. Not like a sweater or anything; just a dusting of fine, thin, brown hair that sweeps over his pecs and down the center of his abs, disappearing under the waistband of the boxer-briefs that emerged from his jeans.
If he noticed me staring lustily at his body, he made no outward sign. But he had to notice, really, because I was gawking at him. He slid backwards off my lap and stood, taking my hand and pulling me up off the sofa.
"Come on, daddy," he said. "Let's go to bed." Again with the daddy thing. But I let it go and followed him, like he really was a little boy in all but physical form, tugging on my hand towards the bedroom like a kid tugging his dad to an amusement park ride.
When we arrived, he whirled around and shoved me backwards onto the bed. And before I knew it, he was on top of me again, holding my hands over my head as he began licking and sucking my neck. "Holy fuck!" I was thinking, but I just couldn't make any intelligible words come out of my mouth. He let go of my hands and made his way over to my left pit, and starting slurping and tonguing it.
"Damn, you taste and smell so good," he was saying. I felt my right hand drift down to the back of his head when suddenly he sat up and frowned. "No! That's a bad daddy!" he said and he moved my hand back to where he had been holding it earlier, then turned his face back down and serviced my left nipple.
"Oh, fuck," I moaned. I had heard about power bottoms before and I guess this is what they meant. I let him take control and melted back into the mattress as he worked my nipples, one by hand and one by tongue. He was writhing his body between my legs, too; he could obviously tell I was as hard as a rock and he was sliding all over my groin, grinding the satin cloth of my workout shorts against my package with his stomach. I let him have his way completely as he mouthed his way down to my navel, then he sat up and started pulling down my shorts. He hopped back off the bed and yanked them clear off my legs. My cock sprang up into the air.
My cock is one of my most popular features: at 8" cut, it's thick and meaty, about the girth of a Red Bull can and with some real heft. And it caps off two big, low-hangers about the size of golf balls. Chris looked delighted, like a school boy who'd just been handed some candy, and he threw himself back down on me. In an instant, he had both nuts in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue.
"Oh, fuck!" I moaned again, louder. He moaned back, sending waves of vibration deep into my sperm makers. He was sucking on them, stretching them down with his mouth, then he released them with a pop. I was looking down at him, his face concealed by the curtain of bangs, when he moved up slightly and licked the tip of my cock.
"You fucked my brother with this, didn't you?" he asked. His voice sounded like pure sex. And before I could answer, he had swallowed me down to the root.
"Holy fucking Christ," I thought. "This kid's ass might be virgin, but he knows how to use his mouth." I felt his throat muscles swallowing around my big dick. My hands flew to the back of his head and my fingers curled themselves in his long, silky hair. I couldn't help it. It was all instinct. And as quickly as he had done before, he knocked my hands back, pulled away, and frowned.
"You really are a bad daddy, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically. He climbed off the bed and looked around on the floor. "We're going to have to do something about that because I don't want you getting in the way." And he walked over to my soccer cleats, which I'd kicked off a couple days ago and left laying by the dresser.
"What are you going to do?" I asked. He ignored me. In a flash, he had stripped my cleats of their laces and was tying my hands to the vertical bars of the headboard. He then looked down at me pensively.
"I think you're too strong for those." And he disappeared into the closet, flinging out sandals and the cluttered shit that lined its floor. He re-emerged with my tennis shoes and some dress shoes Jeff wore for formal occasions. These laces, too, he had stripped in a matter of seconds. I don't know where he learned that trick, but it was pretty impressive. He quickly reinforced the first set of binding with a second and a third. "That's better," he said to himself, smiling down at me with that wicked smile of his.
He returned to the foot of the bed and crawled up between my legs. He laid his head against my thigh and starting teasing my balls with his tongue. Just teasing them. Stroking them with the tip, getting my dick to pulse and throb and flop around my abs like a fish out of water. His eyes were closed and he looked completely peaceful.
"I love this part," he sighed. "It's almost my favorite part, but not quite."
"What's your favorite part?" I asked. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at me, sweetly, adoringly. He ignored the question and returned to my balls, licking them in earnest now and sucking them into his mouth. I moaned appreciatively and tugged at my bonds. I really wanted to move him up to my dick for more of that sweet deep-throating. My cock was really, really ready to pop a load, and soon. But he took his time on my nuts. Finally, I couldn't take it. "Come on, Chris! Suck me, man! I need to get off so bad!"
He looked up at me and smiled with his mouth still full of my nuts. He pulled back, freeing them with another pop. He shook his head. "Nope. I've got something better in store for you." And with that, he slid his hands under my thighs and curled my legs up and out to the side. Then his face disappeared into my ass and I felt his tongue licking my hole. My eyes rolled back into my head and fireworks exploded on the inside of my eyelids.
Oh, I'd been rimmed before, but not like this. That boy's tongue was a fucking gift from God. He was sucking at my ass lips while gently stroking it in and out of me, and then every once and a while he would send it deep, deep, deep into my chute. Until I thought he would lick my tonsils. Holy fuck! I was writhing and whimpering as he played my ass like some kind of musical instrument. He held my legs up, pinning them to the mattress beside my chest with his hands on the back of my knees, and I was trying to bob and weave all over the bed. I was off and in another world somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, and I had no idea what the fuck was coming out my mouth as I babbled incoherently.
He must have been off the bed for about thirty seconds before I even noticed he was gone. And when my eyelids fluttered open, I saw him at the foot of the bed slipping off his jeans and underwear. They were low-cut boxer-briefs. Tight-fitting, almost spandex. His ass was towards me, and when he bent over to slip them over his heels, I got a true eyeful. It was beautiful. He had white, muscled globes, and when he bent all the way over I could see his hole. Mother fucker! He was right, that thing looked like it had never had so much as a finger inside it.
I was staring at it when he stood and turned around, and then my eyes boggled. His cock was huge. Jeff had a nice, 6" cock. Something to play with during sex, give it a tug or two while I fucked him. But Chris was at least 10" long and the shaft was maybe an inch bigger around than mine. He was uncut, like his brother, but he had so much skin that it didn't really peel back, even as hard as he was. No, his knob was completely covered in skin, but it was so thick, maybe a half-inch thicker around even than the shaft, that you could easily make out where the shaft ended and it began.
"Holy shit," I murmured.
It was so massive that its own weight kept it from rising up toward Chris's stomach. It jutted out from a brown nest of pubes, angled to the floor. I trim and Jeff shaves, but Chris is all natural. His pubes are fine and brown like his chest hair, only longer and denser. Definitely not those gross '70s porn pubes. And from the delta of his crotch hung a proportional pair of balls, slung low in their sack.
He looked down at me and smiled again. "Big, ain't it?" He gave it a couple of strokes.
"Fuck, yeah," I answered.
"I'm glad you like it," he said as he knelt back on the bed and lifted my legs again.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I asked.
"I'm going to fuck you, of course," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"No way! I'm a top! I don't get fucked!"
And as I felt him rest the head of his monster cock on the tight pucker of my hole, his smile turned truly evil. "Oh, you do now, bitch," he said.
"NO!" I yelled, and started tugging at the headboard and trying to kick my legs, but he'd tied me well and held my ankles in a vice-like grip.
"Fuck, yeah," he moaned. "Struggle. That's the way I like it. You wanted to know what my favorite part is? My second favorite part is lying with a guy, knowing I've tricked him into complete vulnerability while he's still blissfully ignorant about what's really going to happen. My favorite part is right now." And he shoved his hips forward, driving the head of his cock into my hole.
I shrieked like a schoolgirl as the pain exploded. It was like the worst charley horse imaginable, but in my ass sphincter instead of my calf muscle. My face screwed up with the pain as every muscle clinched. "FUCK!" I yelled, after I caught my breath. "Fuck! Please, please, please . . ." I chanted.
"Please what, bitch?" he asked. He had stopped with just the head inside me.
"Oh, fuck! Please don't fuck me!"
"I already am fucking you, bitch," he answered, without mercy. He shoved his hips forward again and sank about two inches deeper.
I opened my teary eyes and pleaded with him. "Please, Chris, seriously. Oh, fuck it hurts!"
"Of course it hurts. It's your first time, right? And I've got a big fucking dick. But you thought you were going to take my cherry, didn't you? And you thought your dick was pretty big, too. Before you saw this one." And on "this," he shoved another couple inches deeper. I wailed. "Now, watch this," he ordered.
Still pinning my ankles back to the mattress beside me with his hands, he rose out of his kneeling position onto the balls of his feet. Arched like a bow, his midsection was held out from my ass only by his half-embedded dick. And, sure enough, gravity took its inevitable toll, aided with his effort, and he sank the rest of the way into my ass as I squealed.
I closed my eyes and cried as he rested for a moment, feeling my hot, tight chute squeezing on his massive cock. I felt him flexing it inside, stretching me. I was being raped, punked out, by my roommate's high school brother. By my submissive roommate's effeminate little emo brother. I had maybe 20 pounds on him, too, but I was tied up and helpless.
As that realization sunk in, I felt him starting to pull back. Despite all reason, I dared to hope. "Please," I begged again, opening my eyes even though I couldn't see through the blur of tears, "please take it out."
"You want it out?" he asked.
"Yes! Please take it out!"
"OK," he replied and I felt him slowly withdraw to the base of the head. With an ungentle yank, he popped the head free. As thick as his shaft was, there was that extra half-inch of diameter around the rim of his knob, and I jerked as it cleared and just the tip remained.
"Oh, fuck! Thank you! Thank you," I gushed. I was blinking my eyes to try to see, when he leaned back down and fell on top of me, driving the whole fucking 10" inside. It knocked the wind out of me and I felt the hot red blush of pain pour out over my entire body. I felt pain in every nerve of my body, and I was blinded by white light, but through it all there was one central ring of hell, and that ring was my asshole.
The sound of waves crashing filled my ears and through it, distantly, I heard "Want it out again?" I couldn't process where I was. I felt like I was floating in space. A burning fire of numb space. Suddenly the fire receded into a single candle point of flame, before it instantly erupted and flames engulfed me. Lava was pouring into my ass. He had done it again. The process repeated itself, and then I heard the distant voice again. "OK, again?"
"NO! STOP!" I shrieked. He was already halfway out. I opened my eyes and stared between my thighs at my upturned hole. I could see it clinging to his cock, where he was pulling it away from my body when he pulled out. It was bright red and stretched beyond belief around the veined cylinder.
"You want me to leave it in?" he asked.
"Yes! Fuck! Leave it in! Please! I can't take it!"
He settled back down and buried himself inside me. I groaned, but at last he held still, just flexing it against the sheath of my guts. Now I was the one whimpering like a kicked puppy as he sighed, eyes closed, awash in pleasure. I realized that I could feel his low-hangers resting on my ass and his pubes prickling under my balls. It was the first time that I'd ever been on the receiving end of this position and I discovered how emasculating the sensation was. The feeling of a dude's balls resting on your ass and his pubes brushing your balls is more traumatizing than the pain. After a couple minutes, he sucked his lower lip between his teeth and started grinding in circles, causing me to yelp again.
"God damn, you are one tight mother fucker, bitch. That's why I love busting you guys who think you are tops. Cunts are always tight as a drum." He opened his eyes and smiled. "Time to get to work," he warned. He started pulling back again.
"No, no, no!" I begged.
"Oh, fuck yeah, bitch," he retorted. He pulled back slowly until just the wide rim was inside my hole. I could feel it pressing against the inside of my opening. Watching my face, he pushed back in just as slow.
"Oh, FUCK!" I groaned. It didn't hurt nearly as bad now. The cramping in my hole had abated to a mere ache. But I could still feel the volume of his cock as it filled me, giving me a sense of severe constipation as he occupied every microliter of space inside me. As he pulled back out, I recognized a new sensation, one that had been eclipsed by the traumatic pain of being deflowered: friction. The long, slow heat of an Indian burn, but in my ass. The spit he'd worked into my ass when he tongued it had eased the intial entry but was evaporating or being absorbed by now.
My thought was interrupted as he sank slowly back in and that full feeling welled back up into my guts, like a hypodermic needle with the plunger slowly pressing home. When he was maxed out again and I heard the soft slap of his thighs on my buttocks, I gasped. I realized I was exhaling when he slid into me, like his cock was driving the air out of my lungs. Oblivious to my issues, he started to pull back again.
"Chris! Stop! Please, wait!"
He stopped and looked down at me with annoyance. "What now?!"
"Look, I know you're gonna fuck me and there's nothing I can do about it. My ass is yours right now, OK? But can I get some lube or something?"
He looked at me incredulously, like I'd asked for a Porsche roadster. Then he smiled. "Sure." He paused and hocked up phlegm from deep in his throat, and shifted it into his mouth. Then he snorted. His smile brightened as he rolled the contents onto his tongue, and then he spat it out on my face. "There's your fuckin' lube, bitch! This isn't about you! You'll get some lube on your ass when I want some lube on your ass."
With that, he rammed forward hard, shoving my body deep down into the mattress and forcing the thick, viscous gob covering my forehead to run down into my eyes and sideways over my temples. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and tried to shake that nasty crap off when I felt him pull his cock back and his open palm connect with my butt.
"You leave that shit where I put it, bitch!" He rammed forward again, elicting a loud grunt from me when he hit bottom. He kept this pace, yanking his cock back and ramming it forward, punctuated by my grunts, for God knows how long. Meanwhile, my ass was going from warm to hot to glowing as he fucked me. His ample cock skin would take a lot longer to chafe than my ass would and there was no relief in sight.
Eventually, he dropped down from the balls of his feet back onto his knees. He pulled my ankles up as he went down, wrapping my calves over his shoulders and holding them in place with his forearms. When he rammed forward in this position, I was jolted in surprise. "Oh, fuck!" I yelped.
"Got your boynut that time," he explained. Sightless from the now-cooling wad of spit pooled in my eye sockets, I could still hear the smirk in his voice. He repeated the move and elicited another yelp. "Fuck yeah, bitch! Now you know you're turning into a pussy." He continued aiming for my prostate and hit it every time.
After a couple minutes, I could feel my dick swelling. When he first penetrated me, it had shriveled to almost nothing. "Shit," I thought, "he really is turning me into a pussy." I'd seen it with the bottoms I'd topped, of course, but never understood it. I'd be pounding their asses, like Chris was pounding mine, and they'd get hard and their cocks would drool and they'd moan like bitches in heat and back up on my dick, trying to get more. I promised myself that I wouldn't do that. Not me. This flaming high school queer might have made me cry, but he wasn't going to make me do that.
I was a liar. It didn't take more than a couple dozen strokes before I could feel the wetness on my stomach from the precum flowing from my cock like a faucet with bad washers. My hands, still clinched around the headboard bars, were holding on for a different reason now. I was trying to hold the moans in, and trying to hold myself back from raising up to meet his thrusts.
It didn't last long. "Oh, fuck me," I murmured. It slipped out by accident. But he heard it.
"What did you say?" he asked. I laid in obstinate silence. He pulled back to just in front of my prostate gland and slapped my other butt cheek with his palm.
"Nothing!" I lied. He bucked forward, and pleasure surged. "Fuck!" I yelped. He repeated the motion. "Oh, fuck!" Again. "Oh, God!" He pulled farther back, almost all the way out, and then rammed in but stopped short of my prostate. I whimpered. He repeated this, and this time I tried to thrust back. He knew it was coming, though and stopped short.
"Do you want it?" he asked. I refused to admit it. I felt his fingers wiping the precum that had pooled on my abs and run off down the sides of my stomach to the mattress below. "You know you want it, bitch. Look at all this fuck juice. You're covered in it."
"No!"
"You want to cum? Ask me to fuck you and I'll make you cum."
"NO!"
Using my goo, he started stroking my cock while flexing his, halfway inside me. "Oh, shit," I moaned.
"I'm going to bust my nut, bitch, one way or the other. You can lie there and take it after I milk you, or you can ask me to fuck you and we can do it together."
"No," I pleaded. I knew the endorphins now were pumping through my body, but that after I blew a load I'd be on my own. Just me, my sore ass, and his huge, hungry cock. And I did want it. I wanted it bad. That feeling of his knob rubbing past my gland.
He nudged forward slowly, feeding me the whole length. I shuddered when he hit it, and twitched as I felt several inches of it tingle past.
"Fuck me," I whimpered. He stopped stroking my dick.
"What did you say?"
"Fuck me."
"Ask me nice."
"Come on, Chris, fuck me."
"I said ask nice, bitch," he said, slapping my ass again. "And you'll fucking call me 'Sir.'" This is my fucking ass now."
"Please fuck me."
"Tell me whose ass this is."
"It's your ass."
"Whose?" he rocked back and forth, teasing me.
"It's your ass, Sir."
"And what do you want?"
"I want you to fuck me, Sir."
"That's a good bitch," he said and yanked his cock out from my hole. He'd been inside me so long, I couldn't clench it closed. I could feel cool air on it, and brushing inside me. I'd never felt that before.
"What?! What are you doing?" I asked.
"I already told you, this isn't about you." He dropped my legs. I heard him jerking off and felt the mattress quivering below me. I started writhing again.
"No! No! Fuck me!"
I heard him laughing at me.
"Please?" I begged. "Please fuck me, Sir?"
"No. I can't fuck you now. You want it too bad. You'll get off on it."
"Please? I need it."
He paused. "What's in it for me?"
This took me aback. "You get to cum in my virgin ass," I thought, but being a smart ass was not in my best interests. "Anything you want," I swore.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes! Anything you want! Just fuck me! Please fuck me!"
"OK," he said, lifting my legs back up to his shoulders. "But you remember that." And I felt him slide his cock back into my hole. He no longer held my legs, so I wrapped them around his hips. He reached down and wiped the residual mucus from my eyes, so I tentatively flickered them open. I could watch him, now, watch the sweat sheen on his body and watch the muscles ripple under his taut skin as he rhythmically pillaged my ass. I could see him watching me, too, watching my face as it contorted with pleasure from beneath his half-closed lids.
I could smell him, too, the scent of his unwashed body wafting from the tiny wicks of the fine, thin hair on his chest as the exertion opened his pores and drops of his perspiration began to collect in rivulets and run down his chest and arms. His long, brown bangs were soaked and, rather than flopping about aimlessly as usual, were plastered against his brow where he'd brushed them out of his eyes with the back of a hand.
It didn't take long after that for me to cum. And he kept fucking me relentlessly, after enjoying the spasms of my orgasm rippling through my ass around his dick, ripping me to shreds. It was excruciating, but I finally got some lube a few minutes later when he came inside my ass. He didn't even go soft after he came, and he just kept fucking.
Eventually he did untie me, though. It wasn't as much for my benefit as his. He rolled me over onto my stomach and plowed me in a backwards missionary position. Then he grabbed my hips and ordered me up, first just onto my knees in a half-doggy style, then up onto my palms, too. He rolled me over onto one side and straddled one leg while holding the other up in the air. He pulled me down to the foot of the bed, kicking my thighs apart across one corner of the matters, and fucked me while I was face down, bent over, and splayed open. Then he sprawled across the mattress spread-eagle and ordered me to ride him. And I did. And I actually loved the chance to run my hands over his abs and chest and arms, feeling the muscles at work as he thrust his crotch up to meet my downward bobs.
That was how I came the second time. Kneeling astride him, rocking back and forth on his huge fucking dick, perving on the feel of his moist, hair-textured pecs while he stroked my cock with one hand and tugged my balls with the other. The sensation almost blacked me out as my eyes rolled back in my head and I saw stars. My cum hadn't been able to dry on my chest and stomach from the first load, what with all my sweating, and now my second load lay in streams across his.
I collapsed forward, exhausted, but he wasn't done by any means. As I whimpered and mewled, he hunched his hips beneath me, barely sliding his cock through my hole. I started kissing his neck, shoulders, and pecs. Before I knew it, I was licking the salt of his sweat from my lips, then lapping at it from his skin. He pulled my face over to his right armpit and held me there, forcing me to slurp on it while he continued his leisurely rutting. I got treated to the left pit, too, before he rolled me over and really started power fucking my ass. I was on my stomach, my hips propped up on my pillows and a wad of sheets and blankets, as he pinned my wrists together in the small of my back with one hand and gripped my hair in his other, twisting my head back from the mattress.
I think it was my cries of pain and humiliation more than the physical sensation of my ass that finally got him off the second time. Coupled with the burning of my overused ass, the tension on my hair and the strain on my neck led me to break down like a true bitch. Like the bitch he'd made me. And that truth was etched all the more deeply in my brain when all that rough jostling, face down on the bed, brought me to my third orgasm.
It was after those loads--his second load and my third--that he pulled out and released my arms again. He flipped me over like a rag doll, duck-walked on his knees up my torso and stuck his dick in my mouth. It was probably a good thing, judging from the taste, that I didn't see it first. He climbed off the bed and left me there, reeking of our sweat and cum, covered in the snail tracks of semi-dry semen and the loogie he'd spat on my face. I was exhausted on the mattress, and I heard the tv come to life in the living room before I dozed off.