Cassock

By Kevin Berry

Published on May 29, 2008

Gay

Controls

This story does contain some sexual activity - there's no direct man-on-man sex yet (but I'll get there, I'm taking it easy, OK?). If you're a minor, you shouldn't be here! Otherwise, please enjoy this.

I own these characters and the plot line is MINE! (Copyright to Kevin Berry and all that)

If you want to give me some feedback, please do. If you want to post this anywhere else, or steal anything from it in any way, just ask! I'm KGBerryWriting@hotmail.co.uk

So this is Chapter 1: Awakening

Again, Nick Cassock stood alone outside the walls of his old high school. The thought of what he was doing there, having graduated five years ago, did not occur to him. It was a kind of a habit, or maybe more like an addiction, a re-occurring release into fantasy. The fact that he was bare foot, bare chested with his fine torso exposed to the light wind and his back leaning on the dry wall behind him didn't phase him; if anything it made the material of his dark blue, trunk-fit boxers squeeze the meat inside all the tighter. They were all that constrained him, the division separated him from the world. He could see himself standing, rebelliously exposed. He liked the image.

Then he knew why; he knew before, really. His purpose - the whole purpose of everything - was revealed to him as the figure of a woman appeared to him. A woman? Or a girl? It didn't matter which she was. She was expected - but a breath-stealing surprise. Jessica walked towards him then, a female messiah, deified, liberator of his imprisonment, one with the power to release him from the slavery of his manhood. Mage-like, she removed her shirt, revealing the fine breasts beneath the uniform. She wouldn't speak; she never did. It was a choice. Just like before, as Cassock straightened up from leaning against the wall and took in the sight of her plump, round breasts and dangerously seductive face, framed in blonde, he knew that soon he would be in the palm of her hand, obedient to every command. But there were never commands, only those of his own mind, his illusionary, dream-commands. The boxers were gone, like the shirt; Nick stood bare. Only then did she begin her mission. One purpose - pleasure. She began to suck.

And when she sucked, she sucked. And she sucked. Moans erupted from the man like a raging, chained dragon's flames, too long held in and too long suppressed, even though it had been just one day, twenty-four torturous hours since they last rendezvous-ed. The flames ran their route like current in a wire fed from the delicate tongue, through the man's flesh and into the warm evening air. Where was the air now? The air was forgotten, the evening lost. There was only one - no man, no woman. One body - a whole and precious unity - angel and dragon, beast and tamer, lost in an endless nightmare of ecstasy. Finally, the release, the single moment. Was it a single moment? He didn't know. It felt longer. He wished it was longer. Time didn't matter... only pleasure, release, freedom...

He screamed her name, but she wasn't there. She had done her duty to him. The beast was sated, her purpose fulfilled. The sun was setting, red and lonely on the horizon beyond the school.

The dream faded.

"Jessica..." Nick groaned. It was early. Thursday... no Wednesday morning. Thursday? Wednesday. Wedns... it didn't matter. The room was still dark but kind of light. He guessed his brother's alarm was about to... and then it did. The alarm died as his brother, Henry Cassock, 8 years his junior at 15 years old, rolled back into sleep. Nick thought Henry was an accident. So did Henry.

Nick removed his covers with half a mind to get out of bed, but no real intention. His dark blue, trunk-fit boxers were wet. Then he remembered and rolled over, ass up, smiling into his pillow. Third night in a row. Same dream. Same girl. Shit. Sleep re-covered his eyes. Mists and swirls left a pleasant heaviness and contentment in his mind.

"Time to get up, bro." Henry's breaking voice re-awoke him. Time had passed - the room was light now.

"Cheers, H." Nick rolled over in his bed, onto his front. H's eyes took in the bare body and dropped to his conspicuous wet patch. His penis had re-stiffened in the meantime and had conveniently re-settled to where it had previously been. The whole scenario was kind of a give away. "What?" Nick propped himself up onto his elbows and rubbed his face with one hand.

Henry stared at the boner disapprovingly. He was always jealous of Nick; perhaps because he was older, was more mature. Perhaps because he was wanted. H was scrawny; Nick was buff. Nick always said it was just hard work, but H refused to train with him. Had no time, study to do... Nick and H didn't connect all that well.

"You're gonna be late. Might wanna shower." H monotoned his reply and left.

He trundled over the landing of their small house. Dad had already left for work - Nick noticed the sunlight under the doorway of his Father's bedroom - the other room. It was just the three of them, and had been since their mother had left 5 years ago. A lot changed since then. She was always the money spinner; it was after she stopped work that they had to move into "the small house" as H put it. H didn't like it - H didn't like a lot of things. Especially since then. "Then". It sounds so...

"Monumentous," Nick said under his breath as he stepped out of his wet boxers and turned the shower on hot. He liked following the pathways of his thoughts throughout the day. As he walked in and grabbed his shampoo, he let the flood gates of his soft penis go and allowed a flood of healthy-smelling urine into the shower.

"Time to move on little bro," he said, applying shampoo to his long-ish brown hair and washing it right out again.

"It's about time you stopped caring so much about my lil pal here too." He was talking to no-one, so he didn't need to insert any body language that might explain to his invisible listner - he was talking about his willy. "He might go a little wild every night, but you don't need to get jealous now do ya?"

Armpits needed cleaning. Armpits got cleaned.

"I bet you think I was putting on a show for you, laying without a cover like that. Well, you think you're too important. I wouldn't do that. If I thought you needed telling the facts of life, I'd show you myself. Show you how a real man acts. It's not all about cocks you know, H. It's about what you do... and just cos I know and you don't. Not yet any way. Just I got practice. That's all. I'm not embarrassed. Not me. Not about young sir down here. You been a pretty good fella to me."

It was time for young sir's shower time. The monologue continued.

"You sure are acting funny though, shooting me up every night. Why I can't let go of Jessica... I don't know. She sure gave good head. Little bitch though, doin' what she did... Maybe it's not just H that needs to move on."

The shower was over. Nick towelled down his strong body and wandered over nude to his room, stopping to flex in the mirror on the way. H had left already without saying "I love you" and goodbye to his big brother, who always made a point of saying it before he left, when he ended a phone call, and to all the girls he got close to. And he always said "Thank you", especially after making love, because his Dad had told him to do that.

He opened the door of his wardrobe and pulled out a fresh pair of white briefs, eyeing himself in the mirror as he did so. Then he got out his trousers and a fresh, dry white T-shirt.


Nick worked as a mechanic at a local garage. It was a job that suited his character, as he was simple but liked to dabble with the complicated and was always inspired by something that posed a challenge to him. He worked with joy on problem pieces but at the same time was happy to fix the common-as-muck problems that vexed most people because it gave him something of a sense of purpose. Generally, he always aimed to please the people. The company liked him. Actually, everyone liked him. He was that kind of person.

That explains why he strolled into work that Wednesday (Thursday?) morning so happy. It was because he liked his job, because it was approaching summer, because of a lot of small things that were finally working in his life clumped together and made him content. It was also because he liked the garage: the smell of the oil and the diesel; the guys around him all focussed on solving problems with the mechanics, oblivious to the world around them; and the porn. The porno made everything much more manly, and Nick couldn't imagine working in a place where there wasn't at least one pair of tits pointed his way all day. When he felt bad, he just stared up at some Penthouse centrefold or other and it made the world seem a little brighter.

"Morning, Nick." That was Greg, strolling into work. He was usually a grim one, but for once he sounded cheerful. Nick knew that only one thing made Greg walk into work cheerful, and it made him happy too.

"New poster?" Nick asked, with his omniscient, one-eyebrow-raised face on. He knew.

"Check this one out..." On the tool bench dividing his and Greg unfurled a full-colour glossy of a ginger woman sucking on a cherry-red lollipop, kneeling with her legs spread. Her hand had a finger gently inserted into her hairless minge, while the other seemed to command the awe-struck men to feel the boob it was resting on with her. Obediently, Nick placed his hand over the spot, and brought it down over the page.

"Well bend me over and bugger me like a bitch..." Nick breathed. He was turned on. There was something about this one that sent soldier to attention. The commands of the ginger were directing his thoughts to doing all the acts under the sun with this one woman. He was not in control right now - she was. "Put it up where I can see it this time, eh Greg? I wanna see her every time I get in." Nick winked and went back to work.

"Ah'll do my best." Greg replied and rolled the poster up, sticking it in his backpack. He wouldn't - he'd put it right next to all the other posters that Nick could only ever get a glimpse of when he come over to Greg's workspace. He was a bastard like that.

Nick couldn't get the image of Nicole (he'd given her a name now) out of his head. Nicole lifting off his T-Shirt, Nicole fingering herself, Nicole unzipping his fly and licking the inside. Nicole touching his ring (what was he thinking?), licking his A-hole. Nicole demanding his sex; Nick begging for more. Nicole was the boss of his head, the queen over his thoughts. He couldn't focus on fixing the old Ford he was lying under, rooting inside the bonnet of, doing whatever to. What was he trying to do? He couldn't remember. The throbbing meat in his briefs had Nicole's hands on it. She was pleading with him to just go to the bathroom with her. He had been trying to work with this for an hour and a half. He could no longer resist. He had to obey the calling.

Nick gently uncurled his fingers and laid his wrench down on the floor. He pulled himself out from under the car, and wandered over to the men's bathrooms, cock protruding in his jeans through his overalls. He didn't mind; he'd seen plenty of guys heading to the bathrooms with cocks stiff in their overalls before. It wasn't uncommon for the guys - when they were two or more to a car - to simply tell the other they were going for a wank and get it over with in the bathrooms. But this time was different - Nicole was invading his mind like a disease and the only thing he wanted now was to pay her his duties.

He walked inside the one men's bathroom. It was plastered with pictures of women displaying their bodies to Nick, begging for his attention, asking their lust to be fed with his own. He ignored them, giving thought only to the true goddess in his mind. Entering a cubicle, he locked the door, and swiftly pulled down his overalls. He unzipped his jeans and pulled down his briefs, ignoring the large wet circles which would have otherwise surprised him.

"Nicole..." It was a scream compressed into a murmur.

With one arm firmly against the door, he rested his head against the paper of a teenage blonde cheerleader's breasts. His cock was hard, veins popping as it fed his meat. He desperately wanted to beat it, but first he must ask Nicole for permission. In his mind's eye, she lay on his father's bed. This made him smile. He would fuck this queen on his own unworthy father's bed. She had chosen him, Nick, not his loser of a Daddy.

(where are these thoughts coming from?)

If she was going to let him relieve his tension it had to be there.

(why am i so horny over this? I'm not some teenage billy goat...)

He inserted once gently. Then he picked up his pace, gradually. He wanted to do this right to let her...

Shit. Grunt and scream. Hold back - not too much noise. Ahh crap. All over the door too... better just leave that there. Don't give a shit bout the next guy anyway. There's always cum on that poster. Nicole wouldn't be happy. Nicole? Who gives a shit, she's a picture. Just a picture. Pack away. Back to normal work. No smile, just focus.

Nick returned to work much better able to focus. Pulling out of the Ford 2 hours later, he noticed he had missed lunch time by 45 minutes but didn't care - the Ford was now approaching completion, at least as far as he was concerned. With a paint job it'd be fine. Satisfied, he went to wash his hands in the bathroom. The cum was still there, neatly dropping between the displayed breasts. He washed with hot soapy water to get rid of the grease and then headed out, grabbed his sandwich bag and strolled around to the back of the building for lunch - there was a river and some tress out back and it was where he ate it every day. The sun was warm and he pulled of his shirt in the warm air, letting his already tanned body get the most of the sunlight.

"Well hey there Greg!" Nick wandered over to the rickety fold-out wooden table and camp chairs to join him.

"Shit, man you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Greg looked nervously over his shoulder. In the warm air, his bare top showed the neatness of his quietly, logically exercised body. It wasn't scrawny by any means, but Greg's body wasn't a patch on Nick's. His head was finished with a 1950's-style side-parting, which somehow added to his anti-socialness.

"What you reading there?"

"... Play Boy."

Nick stopped right behind him. He could feel the presence of Greg's body, bare in front of him. He surveyed the double-spread laid out on the table.

"She's pretty cute. Huh. You like the threesomes then?"

"Yeah," Greg replied grimly.

"I normally go for lesbo one-on-ones myself..." Nick didn't move. He just stood, looking down over Greg's shoulder. He felt like he had power over this soul. "You pretty horny?"

No response.

"You should be. I'm getting pretty hard lookin' at that myself." He placed his hands on Greg's shoulders. He couldn't identify what had made him do it. Some part of him had commanded his hands against his will; he now had something going that he couldn't hold back for fear of looking weak, especially in front of Greg. He had to be the man here. "You know what I mean?"

The grip was tight. Why? Why did he grip so tight?

"I was about to, just before you came," he replied. Nick didn't know that was what he meant. "But then..."

"You don't need to stop for me," Nick replied cheekily, smiling. "Stand up and face me."

Greg did as he was told. His chest was on the lighter side of well-haired, for a 20-year old. It was black, like the hair on his belly.

Nick felt like he was possessed. He was never like this - never. He unzipped his fly and took out his cock. "Copy me," he commanded to Greg. "Everything I do."

"Yessir." Out came a long and beautiful, pale white shaft with a light pink end. Straight and skinny, a little like Greg.

Unsure of what to do next, Nick began to masturbate. He looked right into Greg's eyes, who turned away. Fearing a loss of control, Nick said, more harshly than he meant to "What did I say?"

Eye contact returned as the men stood in the sun behind the shed, jacking off.

"Those were pretty fine chicks there."

"Yes, sir, they were."

"You ever been in a threesome?"

"No, sir."

"You like the idea?"

"Yes, sir."

"How bout we share some whores one time?"

"Y-yes sir." Greg began to pant.

"Am I panting?"

"A- No, sir."

"Control yourself, then." Nick's pace slowed. Greg obeyed. "One day you an me gonna have ourselves a man's night, you hear?"

"Yes sir."

Right then, Nick sped up the pace on his cock. Orgasmic juice spilled out onto Greg's boxers and jeans, then onto the ground. Greg too, came and fired his liquid over Nick's hand, cock and balls. Greg looked horrified into Nick's eyes.

"Looks like we got ourselves a deal," Nick smiled.

      • So that was Chapter One. I hope you liked it... I know it's not very gay yet. But I like to think Nick's gonna open up. I try to present the straightness in a hot a way as possible. If you did like it, please tell me (this means feedback lol). I love to hear from you guys, I really do (maybe it takes a writer to understand...). Kevin Berry kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk

_________________________________________________________________ Great deals on almost anything at eBay.co.uk. Search, bid, find and win on eBay today! http://clk.atdmt.com/UKM/go/msnnkmgl0010000004ukm/direct/01/

This story does contain some sexual activity - there's no direct man-on-man sex yet (but I'll get there, I'm taking it easy, OK?). If you're a minor, you shouldn't be here! Otherwise, please enjoy this.

I own these characters and the plot line is MINE! (Copyright to Kevin Berry and all that)

If you want to give me some feedback, please do. If you want to post this anywhere else, or steal anything from it in any way, just ask! I'm KGBerryWriting@hotmail.co.uk

So this is Chapter 1: Awakening

Again, Nick Cassock stood alone outside the walls of his old high school. The thought of what he was doing there, having graduated five years ago, did not occur to him. It was a kind of a habit, or maybe more like an addiction, a re-occurring release into fantasy. The fact that he was bare foot, bare chested with his fine torso exposed to the light wind and his back leaning on the dry wall behind him didn't phase him; if anything it made the material of his dark blue, trunk-fit boxers squeeze the meat inside all the tighter. They were all that constrained him, the division separated him from the world. He could see himself standing, rebelliously exposed. He liked the image.

Then he knew why; he knew before, really. His purpose - the whole purpose of everything - was revealed to him as the figure of a woman appeared to him. A woman? Or a girl? It didn't matter which she was. She was expected - but a breath-stealing surprise. Jessica walked towards him then, a female messiah, deified, liberator of his imprisonment, one with the power to release him from the slavery of his manhood. Mage-like, she removed her shirt, revealing the fine breasts beneath the uniform. She wouldn't speak; she never did. It was a choice. Just like before, as Cassock straightened up from leaning against the wall and took in the sight of her plump, round breasts and dangerously seductive face, framed in blonde, he knew that soon he would be in the palm of her hand, obedient to every command. But there were never commands, only those of his own mind, his illusionary, dream-commands. The boxers were gone, like the shirt; Nick stood bare. Only then did she begin her mission. One purpose - pleasure. She began to suck.

And when she sucked, she sucked. And she sucked. Moans erupted from the man like a raging, chained dragon's flames, too long held in and too long suppressed, even though it had been just one day, twenty-four torturous hours since they last rendezvous-ed. The flames ran their route like current in a wire fed from the delicate tongue, through the man's flesh and into the warm evening air. Where was the air now? The air was forgotten, the evening lost. There was only one - no man, no woman. One body - a whole and precious unity - angel and dragon, beast and tamer, lost in an endless nightmare of ecstasy. Finally, the release, the single moment. Was it a single moment? He didn't know. It felt longer. He wished it was longer. Time didn't matter... only pleasure, release, freedom...

He screamed her name, but she wasn't there. She had done her duty to him. The beast was sated, her purpose fulfilled. The sun was setting, red and lonely on the horizon beyond the school.

The dream faded.

"Jessica..." Nick groaned. It was early. Thursday... no Wednesday morning. Thursday? Wednesday. Wedns... it didn't matter. The room was still dark but kind of light. He guessed his brother's alarm was about to... and then it did. The alarm died as his brother, Henry Cassock, 8 years his junior at 15 years old, rolled back into sleep. Nick thought Henry was an accident. So did Henry.

Nick removed his covers with half a mind to get out of bed, but no real intention. His dark blue, trunk-fit boxers were wet. Then he remembered and rolled over, ass up, smiling into his pillow. Third night in a row. Same dream. Same girl. Shit. Sleep re-covered his eyes. Mists and swirls left a pleasant heaviness and contentment in his mind.

"Time to get up, bro." Henry's breaking voice re-awoke him. Time had passed - the room was light now.

"Cheers, H." Nick rolled over in his bed, onto his front. H's eyes took in the bare body and dropped to his conspicuous wet patch. His penis had re-stiffened in the meantime and had conveniently re-settled to where it had previously been. The whole scenario was kind of a give away. "What?" Nick propped himself up onto his elbows and rubbed his face with one hand.

Henry stared at the boner disapprovingly. He was always jealous of Nick; perhaps because he was older, was more mature. Perhaps because he was wanted. H was scrawny; Nick was buff. Nick always said it was just hard work, but H refused to train with him. Had no time, study to do... Nick and H didn't connect all that well.

"You're gonna be late. Might wanna shower." H monotoned his reply and left.

He trundled over the landing of their small house. Dad had already left for work - Nick noticed the sunlight under the doorway of his Father's bedroom - the other room. It was just the three of them, and had been since their mother had left 5 years ago. A lot changed since then. She was always the money spinner; it was after she stopped work that they had to move into "the small house" as H put it. H didn't like it - H didn't like a lot of things. Especially since then. "Then". It sounds so...

"Monumentous," Nick said under his breath as he stepped out of his wet boxers and turned the shower on hot. He liked following the pathways of his thoughts throughout the day. As he walked in and grabbed his shampoo, he let the flood gates of his soft penis go and allowed a flood of healthy-smelling urine into the shower.

"Time to move on little bro," he said, applying shampoo to his long-ish brown hair and washing it right out again.

"It's about time you stopped caring so much about my lil pal here too." He was talking to no-one, so he didn't need to insert any body language that might explain to his invisible listner - he was talking about his willy. "He might go a little wild every night, but you don't need to get jealous now do ya?"

Armpits needed cleaning. Armpits got cleaned.

"I bet you think I was putting on a show for you, laying without a cover like that. Well, you think you're too important. I wouldn't do that. If I thought you needed telling the facts of life, I'd show you myself. Show you how a real man acts. It's not all about cocks you know, H. It's about what you do... and just cos I know and you don't. Not yet any way. Just I got practice. That's all. I'm not embarrassed. Not me. Not about young sir down here. You been a pretty good fella to me."

It was time for young sir's shower time. The monologue continued.

"You sure are acting funny though, shooting me up every night. Why I can't let go of Jessica... I don't know. She sure gave good head. Little bitch though, doin' what she did... Maybe it's not just H that needs to move on."

The shower was over. Nick towelled down his strong body and wandered over nude to his room, stopping to flex in the mirror on the way. H had left already without saying "I love you" and goodbye to his big brother, who always made a point of saying it before he left, when he ended a phone call, and to all the girls he got close to. And he always said "Thank you", especially after making love, because his Dad had told him to do that.

He opened the door of his wardrobe and pulled out a fresh pair of white briefs, eyeing himself in the mirror as he did so. Then he got out his trousers and a fresh, dry white T-shirt.


Nick worked as a mechanic at a local garage. It was a job that suited his character, as he was simple but liked to dabble with the complicated and was always inspired by something that posed a challenge to him. He worked with joy on problem pieces but at the same time was happy to fix the common-as-muck problems that vexed most people because it gave him something of a sense of purpose. Generally, he always aimed to please the people. The company liked him. Actually, everyone liked him. He was that kind of person.

That explains why he strolled into work that Wednesday (Thursday?) morning so happy. It was because he liked his job, because it was approaching summer, because of a lot of small things that were finally working in his life clumped together and made him content. It was also because he liked the garage: the smell of the oil and the diesel; the guys around him all focussed on solving problems with the mechanics, oblivious to the world around them; and the porn. The porno made everything much more manly, and Nick couldn't imagine working in a place where there wasn't at least one pair of tits pointed his way all day. When he felt bad, he just stared up at some Penthouse centrefold or other and it made the world seem a little brighter.

"Morning, Nick." That was Greg, strolling into work. He was usually a grim one, but for once he sounded cheerful. Nick knew that only one thing made Greg walk into work cheerful, and it made him happy too.

"New poster?" Nick asked, with his omniscient, one-eyebrow-raised face on. He knew.

"Check this one out..." On the tool bench dividing his and Greg unfurled a full-colour glossy of a ginger woman sucking on a cherry-red lollipop, kneeling with her legs spread. Her hand had a finger gently inserted into her hairless minge, while the other seemed to command the awe-struck men to feel the boob it was resting on with her. Obediently, Nick placed his hand over the spot, and brought it down over the page.

"Well bend me over and bugger me like a bitch..." Nick breathed. He was turned on. There was something about this one that sent soldier to attention. The commands of the ginger were directing his thoughts to doing all the acts under the sun with this one woman. He was not in control right now - she was. "Put it up where I can see it this time, eh Greg? I wanna see her every time I get in." Nick winked and went back to work.

"Ah'll do my best." Greg replied and rolled the poster up, sticking it in his backpack. He wouldn't - he'd put it right next to all the other posters that Nick could only ever get a glimpse of when he come over to Greg's workspace. He was a bastard like that.

Nick couldn't get the image of Nicole (he'd given her a name now) out of his head. Nicole lifting off his T-Shirt, Nicole fingering herself, Nicole unzipping his fly and licking the inside. Nicole touching his ring (what was he thinking?), licking his A-hole. Nicole demanding his sex; Nick begging for more. Nicole was the boss of his head, the queen over his thoughts. He couldn't focus on fixing the old Ford he was lying under, rooting inside the bonnet of, doing whatever to. What was he trying to do? He couldn't remember. The throbbing meat in his briefs had Nicole's hands on it. She was pleading with him to just go to the bathroom with her. He had been trying to work with this for an hour and a half. He could no longer resist. He had to obey the calling.

Nick gently uncurled his fingers and laid his wrench down on the floor. He pulled himself out from under the car, and wandered over to the men's bathrooms, cock protruding in his jeans through his overalls. He didn't mind; he'd seen plenty of guys heading to the bathrooms with cocks stiff in their overalls before. It wasn't uncommon for the guys - when they were two or more to a car - to simply tell the other they were going for a wank and get it over with in the bathrooms. But this time was different - Nicole was invading his mind like a disease and the only thing he wanted now was to pay her his duties.

He walked inside the one men's bathroom. It was plastered with pictures of women displaying their bodies to Nick, begging for his attention, asking their lust to be fed with his own. He ignored them, giving thought only to the true goddess in his mind. Entering a cubicle, he locked the door, and swiftly pulled down his overalls. He unzipped his jeans and pulled down his briefs, ignoring the large wet circles which would have otherwise surprised him.

"Nicole..." It was a scream compressed into a murmur.

With one arm firmly against the door, he rested his head against the paper of a teenage blonde cheerleader's breasts. His cock was hard, veins popping as it fed his meat. He desperately wanted to beat it, but first he must ask Nicole for permission. In his mind's eye, she lay on his father's bed. This made him smile. He would fuck this queen on his own unworthy father's bed. She had chosen him, Nick, not his loser of a Daddy.

(where are these thoughts coming from?)

If she was going to let him relieve his tension it had to be there.

(why am i so horny over this? I'm not some teenage billy goat...)

He inserted once gently. Then he picked up his pace, gradually. He wanted to do this right to let her...

Shit. Grunt and scream. Hold back - not too much noise. Ahh crap. All over the door too... better just leave that there. Don't give a shit bout the next guy anyway. There's always cum on that poster. Nicole wouldn't be happy. Nicole? Who gives a shit, she's a picture. Just a picture. Pack away. Back to normal work. No smile, just focus.

Nick returned to work much better able to focus. Pulling out of the Ford 2 hours later, he noticed he had missed lunch time by 45 minutes but didn't care - the Ford was now approaching completion, at least as far as he was concerned. With a paint job it'd be fine. Satisfied, he went to wash his hands in the bathroom. The cum was still there, neatly dropping between the displayed breasts. He washed with hot soapy water to get rid of the grease and then headed out, grabbed his sandwich bag and strolled around to the back of the building for lunch - there was a river and some tress out back and it was where he ate it every day. The sun was warm and he pulled of his shirt in the warm air, letting his already tanned body get the most of the sunlight.

"Well hey there Greg!" Nick wandered over to the rickety fold-out wooden table and camp chairs to join him.

"Shit, man you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Greg looked nervously over his shoulder. In the warm air, his bare top showed the neatness of his quietly, logically exercised body. It wasn't scrawny by any means, but Greg's body wasn't a patch on Nick's. His head was finished with a 1950's-style side-parting, which somehow added to his anti-socialness.

"What you reading there?"

"... Play Boy."

Nick stopped right behind him. He could feel the presence of Greg's body, bare in front of him. He surveyed the double-spread laid out on the table.

"She's pretty cute. Huh. You like the threesomes then?"

"Yeah," Greg replied grimly.

"I normally go for lesbo one-on-ones myself..." Nick didn't move. He just stood, looking down over Greg's shoulder. He felt like he had power over this soul. "You pretty horny?"

No response.

"You should be. I'm getting pretty hard lookin' at that myself." He placed his hands on Greg's shoulders. He couldn't identify what had made him do it. Some part of him had commanded his hands against his will; he now had something going that he couldn't hold back for fear of looking weak, especially in front of Greg. He had to be the man here. "You know what I mean?"

The grip was tight. Why? Why did he grip so tight?

"I was about to, just before you came," he replied. Nick didn't know that was what he meant. "But then..."

"You don't need to stop for me," Nick replied cheekily, smiling. "Stand up and face me."

Greg did as he was told. His chest was on the lighter side of well-haired, for a 20-year old. It was black, like the hair on his belly.

Nick felt like he was possessed. He was never like this - never. He unzipped his fly and took out his cock. "Copy me," he commanded to Greg. "Everything I do."

"Yessir." Out came a long and beautiful, pale white shaft with a light pink end. Straight and skinny, a little like Greg.

Unsure of what to do next, Nick began to masturbate. He looked right into Greg's eyes, who turned away. Fearing a loss of control, Nick said, more harshly than he meant to "What did I say?"

Eye contact returned as the men stood in the sun behind the shed, jacking off.

"Those were pretty fine chicks there."

"Yes, sir, they were."

"You ever been in a threesome?"

"No, sir."

"You like the idea?"

"Yes, sir."

"How bout we share some whores one time?"

"Y-yes sir." Greg began to pant.

"Am I panting?"

"A- No, sir."

"Control yourself, then." Nick's pace slowed. Greg obeyed. "One day you an me gonna have ourselves a man's night, you hear?"

"Yes sir."

Right then, Nick sped up the pace on his cock. Orgasmic juice spilled out onto Greg's boxers and jeans, then onto the ground. Greg too, came and fired his liquid over Nick's hand, cock and balls. Greg looked horrified into Nick's eyes.

"Looks like we got ourselves a deal," Nick smiled.


So that was Chapter One.

I hope you liked it... I know it's not very gay yet. But I like to think Nick's gonna open up. I try to present the straightness in a hot a way as possible. If you did like it, please tell me (this means feedback lol). I love to hear from you guys, I really do (maybe it takes a writer to understand...).

Kevin Berry kgberrywriting@hotmail.co.uk

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