Part 3 of the story of D'n'M, just like Parts 1 and 2, includes sex between teenage boys, some of it non-consensual. As before, it is the characters themselves and how they react to events that are key to whatever success the story achieves.
All the characters and events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com
PJ
D'n'M Part 3
From Chapter 4:
"Go for it, bud. Cum on me."
Milo barely heard Dods' encouragement, his concentration being wrapped up (much like his dick) in the real and amazing hotness of what was happening to him. He had no time or thought for stroking his nipples or fingering his butt hole. Barely thirty seconds after taking himself in hand his balls pulled up tight to the root of his dick and the first bullet of cum hit Dods square in the middle of his chest. The second went flying beyond the end of the bathtub and the third made a graceful arc and fell close to Dods' tummy button. The rest of this monumental load dripped down Milo's dick and balls, landing directly on Dods' upper torso due to the simple fact that, after blast number three, Milo's legs could no longer hold him upright and he found himself kneeling astride Dodd's body at the bottom of the bathtub, desperately dragging air into his lungs.
Chapter 5:
Milo's gaze travelled from Dods' wide-eyed face, down to his solid and cum-spattered chest and onwards to his sticky-coated tummy.
"Wowzers dude, that was one hell of a production, but now, for fuck's sake, stand up before you squash the life out of me!"
It was only then that Milo realised the full implications of his buckling knees, i.e. that he was now sitting on top of Dods lower abs, the last of his blistering cum dribbling down the shaft of his dick and the swell of his balls onto the older boy's tummy. To Milo, in his post-cum haze, Dods' voice sounded as if it was travelling through fog and from a long distance away, but, on working out that he was demanding to be unpinned from the bottom of the bathtub, Milo took hold of both sides and levered himself into unreliable standing. His breath was still coming in gasps and his legs felt as unsteady as a new-born foal's. Half his mind was back to performing a series of ecstatic, post-orgasmic somersaults while the other half, as usual, struggled to bring Milo back to sense and sensibility. Dods pulled himself upright and raised his open palm.
"High five, dude." His voice didn't even try to hide the pleasure and admiration that he was feeling. "I officially and truly welcome you as an awesome Greenside Community High School Swimming Team CUM BROTHER! Way To Go! Not the biggest dick on the team but once I tell the guys about how you can shoot they're gonna be queueing up to be your shave partner. High five!"
Milo wasn't sure quite how to feel. He'd just been put down because of his dick size but complimented on his impressive load. It was like being slapped on one side of his face and kissed on the other. So it was with a half-smile that he lifted his hand in response to Dods' upraised palm. As the two of them triumphantly slapped their palms together Milo felt himself being pulled into a tight bro-hug. Dods clapped his free hand on Milo's back, simultaneously bringing their sticky torsos together. Cooling cum squelched between them.
"Hey, let's get this shower back in action before we get stuck together."
Hot water was soon cascading over the two of them as they quickly rinsed the cum from their bodies along with the last of the shaving gel from Milo's lower abs. As it was disappearing down the drain Milo had a sudden realisation. Hadn't they forgotten something?
"What about you, Dods? Don't we need to get you shaved? You'll be in trouble with Ms. Boyeda tomorrow if you turn up to practice still hairy."
"Nah, don't stress it, I'll get my kid brother to do it later. He's done it before. He thinks it's funny cos he's only just getting going with his pubes -- late starter like me - but don't tell him I said any of that, at least, not `till after he's shaved me. I want to keep all my jewels intact!" The trademark smile reappeared on his face.
Milo smiled back. "Where is he now?" he asked.
"He's out with his friends somewhere. He'll be playing basketball, but he'll be back in time to get me smooth enough, even for the Ballbreaker."
"Well, if you're sure that's okay."
"Yeah, if I spend any more time in this shower I'll be as wrinkly as my granny." Milo laughed out loud at that mental image. "Let's you and me dry off and get dressed, then we can hang out for a while, if you haven't got to get home."
Get home? Wouldn't that be good -- to actually want to go home? To feel that there was somebody, anybody, there who would be pleased to see him. Not like Dods, who obviously shared a level of comfortable intimacy with his younger brother. Just like D and Tom, Tom who had taught D all about wet dreams and jerking off, who had driven half way across the country in the middle of the night when D was weighed down by the horrific reality of being abused by his soccer coach. Not to mention the fact of his loving and supportive parents.
And what did Milo have? A useless older sister, Kate, who was pretty much never at home, and even when she was she was either avoiding him or snarling at him. A father who, all through his childhood and early teenage years, had been his second-best friend (after D, of course) but who had become almost as invisible as his sister in recent months, always with an important reason to be at the office or away on site somewhere. And why did his dad feel this over-riding compulsion to be out of the family home? All because of his oh-so-transparent need to spend as little time as possible in the company of Milo's mother.
Milo's mother. Even thinking about her was painful these days. When had she stopped being the loving wife, the devoted mother, the accomplished home-maker, the dependable friend, the trusted confidante, the perfect hostess etc. etc. etc., the person that everyone in the neighbourhood looked up to and tried to emulate? When had she started to see the world as alien territory and everyone in it, especially her family, as enemy personnel? When, in particular, had she fixed her sights on her only son as the particular focus of her bitterness and disapproval? Why had she become the negative, belittling, complaining and critical woman who seemed determined to destroy the family she had put so much creative effort into building? What had driven her to daytime t.v. and secret drinking (that wasn't a secret at all)?
Yes, Milo knew all the questions, witnessed all the problems and lived all the consequences, but did he know any of the answers? No.
Did he understand any of the reasons? No, not really.
Could he identify any of the causes? No, definitely not.
Did he want to go home? No, especially not if the alternative was the chance to hang out with one of the coolest guys on the team, one of his new Cum Brothers (Yay!) and someone he was beginning to think could be a real friend.
Milo and Dods took minimal time getting dried and dressed, Milo taking just a few seconds to run his hands over his newly-smooth body for the first time (he'd give it a proper, much lengthier examination later he thought).
"Feels weird, huh?" asked Dods.
"Yeah. I'd only just got used to it, the hair. You know?"
"Yeah, but now you `ve got a new normal. You'll get used to that too," Dods sounded reassuringly confident. "Though it does feel odd when it starts to grow back again -- bristly and itchy. Now let's go see what we can find in the fridge. I'm starved."
Two pairs of teenage legs stampeded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, with two triple-decker ham and cheese sandwiches, two bottles of spring water and a precariously-balanced plate of Dods' step-mum's home-made oatmeal cookies, the same legs made a slower and more controlled journey back up to the bedroom where Dods settled himself on the edge of his bed.
"Make yourself at home," he instructed Milo, indicating the desk and armchair in opposite corners of the room. Milo chose the desk.
Silence followed as the boys' post-swimming practice, post-monumental cum hunger was fed. Dods was the first to reach the `filling the corners' stage.
"From what I've seen in the pool and the times you've been posting since you got your place back in the squad after ..."
"After Mr. Roberts." Milo filled in the gap.
"Yeah, that," continued Dods. "I reckon you've definitely won yourself a spot in the tournament this weekend."
"You think?"
"Oh yeah, at least the freestyle relay and maybe even the individual. Final practice on Thursday should seal the deal."
Milo could feel himself blushing from the praise. "The relay would be great."
"Don't sell yourself short, man. You seem to have the talent, so if you want the indi, you go out and get it. No-one's gonna give it to you. Sure, there's competition for the second spot -- of course, no-one's gonna be taking the number one spot away from me -- but there isn't anyone with their name engraved on number 2."
"Thanks Dods, I appreciate it." Milo was genuinely grateful for Dods' words of praise and encouragement, they also made him think that he might actually have a shot at the indi. It had to be worth a go.
The corner-filling continued for several minutes, finally being interrupted by Dods' unexpected question.
"You're best buds with Dan Reed, yeah?"
Milo's hand paused on its journey from cookie plate to mouth. He was instantly on his guard. "Yeees." His reply was long, drawn-out and tentative. Over the past few months he had learnt to be very wary of this sort of enquiry. People, often complete strangers, seemed to think it was their right to be filled in on all the juicier details of the abuse D and so many other boys had suffered as a result of Mr. Roberts' predatory behaviour, especially having been denied the excitement and spectacle of a full trial. So experience had taught Milo to be slow to respond to any questioning involving Dan. He waited to see how Dods might continue.
"You helped him out, with the Roberts business?" This was half question, half statement. It left the door open for Milo to either walk through or walk away.
"I was there for him, yeah." His answer was typically evasive, discouraging further discussion.
"His brother Tom was team captain when I joined the squad. He's one of the good guys. Helped me a lot."
"Yeah," agreed Milo, "he's one of the best."
"So because his bro helped me, I'd like to repay the favour and help out Dan."
This was a surprising conversational change of direction. Milo wondered where it might go. "How?"
"Beth Harper."
Now this was a surprise, completely out of left field. "Huh?"
"I've seen how he looks at her when she's around. Everyone has. The puppy dog eyes?"
Milo knew that look only too well, knew exactly what Dods was talking about. But he wasn't about to betray D's confidence. "Hmm?"
"Just tell him from me, he's had enough hurt and doesn't need any more from that direction. She's really not worth it, and not just because she's been with pretty much every jock this side of the Himalayas. She's toxic." It sounded to Milo as if Dods was struggling to keep his voice steady. Was there more he wanted to tell?
"Sounds like you've got reasons to be pissed off with her."
"Yeah, well, like I said, Tom Reed is a good guy. It'd be good to be able to help out his brother, especially after everything he's been through. Let's leave it at that, dude."
Clearly there was more that Dods wasn't saying but Milo felt that here was a likely ally as far as Beth Harper was concerned. Maybe he could afford to lower a little the protective shield he habitually threw around Dan. "I've been telling D forever to stop wasting his time with her. There are dozens of other girls who'd wet themselves for the chance of a date with him." Dods grinned. "But he doesn't, or he won't, hear it no matter what I say. He's convinced they're going to get together and live happily-ever-after. It's sad, man, so sad."
"Yeah, well you just keep on trying to get that message through to him, for his own good. Now, how about I load up the PS? Assassin's Creed?"
"Odyssey?"
"Of course!"
"Then what're you waiting for? Load up!"
So the two boys spent a happy, bloody hour, lost in the world of ancient Greeks and Spartans, shields and javelins and, from where Milo was sitting, screen after screen of bare, hunky warrior flesh. For that hour he was in a world, light years away from whatever waited for him back at home.
They'd been slaughtering their way across the ancient world for a while when Dods announced that he was desperate to pee. Having emptied his bladder, he made a brief return visit to the kitchen, returning minutes later with fresh supplies.
"So," began Milo, pausing between gulps from his water bottle, "how come you chose to be my shave partner?"
"I didn't," Dods replied.
"Huh?"
"Us senior swimmers take it in turns to take on each new virgin. It just happened to be my lucky day. Who knew I'd be the first with such an amazing cum machine? The whole thing has been a good way of bonding the team together and, besides, you've been a member of the squad for a while but we've never really hung out before. So it's win-win all round." Dods picked up his controller. "You ready to buckle up your armour again?"
Milo nodded and the bloody slaughter in the sand began again.
The time passed effortlessly and companionably by, so maybe it was the effect of all that toned and oiled flesh or just the feeling that Dods could be trusted not to jump to uncomfortable conclusions that allowed Milo to ask a question that had been bouncing around in his head for most of the afternoon.
"Do you know if there's ever been a gay guy on the team?"
There was a pause. A long pause. Two more muscled Spartans bit the sand, blood oozing from gaping wounds. Milo could feel his own heart beating faster in his chest. Dods remained silent. Small beads of sweat started to form on Milo's upper lip. Crap! Had he got it wrong? Had he blown it? Was Dods the standard, closed-minded, prejudiced jock after all?
Thanks to all those who have taken the time and trouble to write to tell me how they feel about this story. As ever I am very grateful for all feedback and promise to respond.
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