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 8:
Forget? How could he possibly forget? So much of what she said was rattling around in his head already. Some of it made sense, much of it didn't and all of it was going to take a lot of thinking time to sort out. He had convinced himself that the mess inside his head was all down to what had happened to him that day in Mr. Roberts' office, but if Please Call Me was right, maybe that wasn't the whole story. And the idea of changing into a new Dan Reed? Wow! That was cool and scary at the same time. He certainly had a lot to think about but at least he had M to talk it through with. It looked like, after all, that they'd be on the phone for even longer than was usual that night. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Chapter 9:
As he dumped his bike in the garage and walked through into the kitchen, Milo was smiling to himself and thinking about his plans for the hour or so before dinner. His agenda consisted of, 1). grab himself a snack and then, 2). go up to his room to check out the newly-smooth parts of his body, then, 3). treat himself to another shower, followed by, 4). a leisurely jerk-off while thinking back over the events of a truly memorable and amazing day. Part 5). would, of course, be his nightly conversation with D when he'd have the chance to relive them over again and, who knew, maybe allow himself yet another cum. It all sounded perfect, but then perfect, as we all know, very rarely works out.
The last thing he was expecting (or hoping for) was to be met by his mother, sitting at the breakfast bar. Two things immediately struck him as odd. The first was that she had an almost smile on her face. Milo genuinely couldn't remember the last time his mother had looked at him with anything other than indifference, and usually it was a whole lot worse. Secondly, and this was even more of a surprise given how things had been for the last several months, was the fact that there was no sign of a wine bottle, or even a glass. Milo's immediate thought was she must have heard him putting his bike away and quickly hidden the evidence, desperately trying to maintain the illusion of suburban sobriety. But when she spoke, even that didn't seem likely as there wasn't so much as a hint of the alcohol-induced slurring that had become normal.
"Good, you're home -- at last." So not everything was different. "There's something I need to tell you before you go upstairs."
"Won't it wait?" asked Milo. Merely thinking about his plans for the time before dinner was causing some potentially embarrassing activity in the underwear department.
"It would be better if I tell you now, but it can wait until later. You'll find out all about it soon enough anyway."
"Great. Whatever it is, you can tell me at dinner." With that he moved across the room to the fridge and helped himself to a tub of guacamole, then took a bag of Doritos from the larder before setting off up to his room. Climbing the stairs, half his mind began to entertain itself with snapshots taken from the events of the afternoon, with a particular concentration on the shaving and the bathtub jerk-off. The result, of course, was that he arrived at his bedroom door with his dick more than half way ready for what it had been promised and quite unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he entered his room.
"Well hello there, cuz. What took you so long? I've been waiting for you for ever." Zephan!
"What the ...! What the hell are you doing here? You're not supposed to arrive until the weekend." The words spluttered from Milo's horrified mouth. Rarely, if ever, had a teenage dick gone from 60% horny to 100% indifferent more quickly.
"'S'great to see you too, cuz. Thought I'd get here a few days early so we can spend some `quality time' together." The leer on Zephan's face left no room to doubt what sort of quality time he had in mind.
Milo didn't trust himself to respond, he simply turned round and left the room. He could hear Zephan's less-than-friendly laughter following him as he made it to the bottom of the stairs at least twice as fast as he'd arrived at the top just seconds before.
"What's he doing up there? And why didn't you warn me?" Milo had no thoughts of moderating his aggressive tone of voice. He was too shocked and angered by the brief encounter up in his room to have any head space left for logical or self-defensive thinking. He dumped the snack ingredients on the kitchen counter. He was no longer the slightest bit hungry.
"I believe I did try to tell you about your cousin's arrival but, as I recall, you had more pressing matters to attend to." Her tone was derisive, almost mocking. And the mention of `more pressing matters' - was it possible that she could have known about parts 2 and 4 of his pre-dinner plan? That thought was way too toe-curling to dwell on.
Crap! He really wasn't ready for this. He'd expected to have a few more days to psych himself up for Zephan's arrival, even, maybe, find a way to get out of having to share a room with him. And, of course, his cousin hadn't wasted any time in making his expectations clear. Crap! More than anything he wanted just to turn round and get out of the house and go to D's but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did so. And he couldn't stay here in the kitchen because he knew he'd say something to his mother that would get him grounded for at least a month, so that left him with no choice but to return to his invaded bedroom. He had never climbed the stairs so slowly or reluctantly.
Back in his room he immediately realised something that hadn't registered with him before -- that Zephan was sprawled out on his bed as if he owned it.
"The blow-up mattress on the floor is for you," he snarled. There was no way he was going to allow his cousin to get the upper hand right at the start. If that happened there was only one direction the rest of the week would go and that was south, and fast, at least for him. Zephan, however, had exactly the opposite idea.
"Oh I don't think so, fag boy. As senior cousin here I get to decide who sleeps where." Zephan left an ominous pause. "And the rest." His tone allowed no room for negotiation or debate.
Did he really just call him a fag? Really? What a jerk. Well, there was no way he was gonna spend any more time with this moron than he absolutely had to.
"Whatever." He turned round and, once again went downstairs, this time by-passing the kitchen and heading for the sitting room. But even here there was no escape. His sister Kate had made one of her rare appearances and was draped the full length of the sofa, her face glued to her smart phone.
"Space occupied, Swimboy. No room for you here. Go back to the smart-ass cousin for more macho bonding and leave me the fuck alone."
That was possibly the most she had said to him in weeks though it was definitely less offensive than most. Had it always been like this? He wondered. Surely there must have been a time when they could be in the same room together without breaking into open warfare. And their mum always took his sister's side and backed her up, even when she was very obviously in the wrong. Mothers and daughters, eh? They deserved each other.
So the only family-free spaces left to him were the garage and the bathrooms. He chose the garage and fired off a quick text to Dan explaining how his very good day had come crashing down with the unexpected arrival of his cousin and that they'd talk at school the following day. Crap! He couldn't even talk to his best friend. He hated Zephan!
Milo filled the time until dinner, not with the activities he'd planned with such care and pleasurable anticipation, but by giving his bike some long-overdue maintenance, top of the list being checking the tyres and greasing the chain. The latter turned out to be not such a good idea as half his fifteen-year old teenage mind started thinking about other things that might benefit from being greased up, with the result that he was more than half hard when Kate arrived to tell him, with two expletives and a seriously pissed-off face, that dinner was ready. When he reached the dining table he saw that a place had been set for him next to Zephan who was already sitting. As Milo reluctantly joined him, Zephan looked directly at his tented shorts and spoke quietly so neither Kate nor Grace de Beer could hear.
"There you go, cuz, I knew you were excited to see me. Keep up the unhappy front if you need to, if that's what it takes to keep the rest of your crazy family away from your dirty little secret, but I can see how much you're looking forward to the fun we're gonna have later."
Milo had no words so he said nothing, a silence that continued all through dinner. That left his mum, in full `gracious hostess' mode, to make conversation which, with three unco-operative teenagers, was the dinner time equivalent of climbing Everest without oxygen. Milo almost felt sorry for her. Almost. No doubt she'd find an early excuse to get away on her own, with just a bottle for company. He only had to wait until the last mouthful of dessert was eaten.
"I'll leave you to clear away and load the dishwasher. I need to go upstairs to make some calls before it gets too late." With that, Grace de Beer left the room, quickly followed by Kate who, with a graceless sneer, announced that she had no intention of spending time with a pair of brainless jocks. Zephan made a crack about Kate being a nasty piece of work (the first reasonable thing he'd said, thought Milo) before leaving the kitchen for the sitting room and making it clear that he also had no intention of being part of a clean-up detail. Milo didn't care because it meant he could take his time and delay, for as long as possible, going up to bed and whatever waited for him there. It also gave him the opportunity to think back over the time spent with Dods earlier in the day, particularly the story of the two boys being jumped by other members of the swimming team. How great must it have felt for those two guys when they got to be accepted and supported by the rest of the team? In high school it often seemed as if the bad guys always got away with stuff, but not that time. Maybe one day he'd have the courage to be out at school. Wouldn't it be good to know that his team-mates would have his back? Milo also wondered who it was who had ratted out the two boys and whether they'd ever got what was coming to them. He hoped they had.
Eventually there really was nothing more to do in the kitchen. He'd loaded the dishwasher as instructed (he even switched it on!), wiped down all the surfaces -- twice, swept the floor and set the table for breakfast. His only remaining option was bed.
Passing the sitting-room he heard the sound of the t.v. Hopefully that meant that Zephan was still downstairs and that he, Milo, could get to sleep before his cousin made an appearance in the bedroom. He'd already showered earlier in the day so would only need to pee and quickly brush his teeth before being able to get straight into bed. As he passed the upstairs bathroom he heard the shower running which meant that Zephan wasn't watching t.v., wasn't downstairs at all. Crap! So no chance for Milo to be sleeping before Zephan arrived. He decided his tooth brush could have a night off, stripped down to his underwear and, with a sense of resentment at being relegated to the inflatable mattress, fell into bed.
Milo lay on his back, clutching the bedcovers under his chin, trying to convince himself that he wasn't thinking back to the blow-job he'd given Zephan last time, which only meant, of course, that that was exactly what he was thinking about. And however hard he tried, he couldn't pretend that he hadn't enjoyed it at the time and hadn't, in fact, had many very satisfying cums from re-living it in the months since. Okay, so he hadn't enjoyed not really being given a choice and he would have liked it if Zephan had offered to do something for him in return, but after all, he told himself, he was only out to D and Tom, and wasn't exactly being offered regular sex on a plate. Basically, he told himself, when you're a horny fifteen-year old gay boy, it was a case of `take it wherever you can get it'. So he lay there in the dark, the only light coming through the thinly-curtained window from the security light outside, waiting for his older, stronger, hot, straight cousin to come into the room, fresh from the shower and intent on getting off, irrespective of what Milo might or might not get out of it. Once again the two halves of Milo's mind were scrapping it out between themselves and, as usual, totally conflicting the boy in the process.
When Zephan entered the bedroom he closed the door behind him and threw his wet towel into the corner nearby. He then made his purposeful way across the room, not to his own bed (well, Milo's bed, but you know what I mean) but to the mattress on the floor, where Milo lay, watching from his horizontal position and following his cousin with magnetized eyes. Zephan came and stood on the mattress, one foot on either side of Milo. He folded his arms across his muscular chest and looked down from his six foot two inches. Milo looked up and what he saw had his eyes widening and his mouth almost literally drooling. The picture above him was foreshortened by their positions relative to each other, Milo at the bottom and completely horizontal, Zephan rising up vertically above him. Milo lay between his cousin's legs and his eyes swept up the freshly-showered, sparsely-haired, impressively-sculpted columns of flesh and bone, sinew and muscle. He found himself wishing his tongue were long enough to allow him to lick where only his eyes were able to go. (How weird is that?' he thought. A tongue that long would be gross.')
At the top, where the powerful legs came together, Zephan's jock-encased junk hung like ripe fruit waiting to be picked. Milo remembered that dick -- seven and a half uncut inches, and those balls -- hanging confidently in their hairless sac, and he could barely wait to be reacquainted. Had anything changed in the intervening months? Grown bigger, perhaps? Wider? Hairier? After all, Zephan was just about eighteen now so virtually an adult, with adult assets to boast of. That thought of Zephan being almost fully grown interrupted Milo's appreciative survey of his cousin's body, and made him realise that he was entirely at the older boy's mercy. He, Milo, was certainly lithe and well-constructed but he no way had the physical strength to resist anything that Zephan might insist on. And just what that was he was about to find out.
"Enjoying the view from down there, cuz?" The swagger in Zephan's voice matched his pose as well as his manner. "Well, you're about to get a close-up."
As he said this, Zephan bent his knees to bring him down so that he was kneeling with his butt resting squarely on Milo's lower torso and his thighs, his long, lean, muscular thighs (Milo was taking in every detail), gripping the sides of Milo's chest. What had been hanging a yard above Milo's face was now just inches away, and the bulging jock-strap that had been just out of reach was now within easy touching distance.
Oh crap, this was hard, just about as hard as Milo's dick. He knew he shouldn't want this to be happening, knew he should be trying to wriggle out from under his cousin, knew he should be calling for help. But he couldn't. And what made it even harder (the situation, not Milo's dick, because that couldn't have got any harder) was the fact that Zephan really didn't have to do very much at all to ensure Milo's co-operation. He didn't need to make a threat or issue an order, didn't even need to acknowledge Milo's existence. He must have known that the boy would do pretty much anything or everything he wanted with no questions asked. What could be sweeter?
For the first time Zephan made eye contact with Milo and raised his eyebrows followed by a brief nod of the head. Milo didn't have to work hard to interpret the meaning of these two gestures, neither did he put up any resistance to complying. From his prone position under and between the older boy, Milo reached out both hands immediately making contact with the very full mesh pouch of the jock. One hand slipped underneath to cup the plum-sized balls which it gently massaged, while the fingers of the other made straight for the ridge of the glans which was visible, even through the double layer comprising of Zephan's intact foreskin and the fabric of the pouch.
"Pull it down," Zephan ordered, "and hook the waistband under my balls."
Milo did as instructed.
"Now watch."
And Milo did as instructed again, and as he did so he had the stomach-churning pleasure, once again, of watching Zephan's slightly chubbed length grow to its proud and oh-so-desirable seven and a half rigid inches.
"Now do your fag-boy thing, and make it good."
Fag! That word again. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to be such a typical bone-headed jock? This could have been something they'd both enjoy, now it was something Milo knew he'd just have to endure. His hard-on wilted, his hands fell away, his mouth - which had already been more than half way open -- closed like a trap.
"Now. I need to get off -- now!" Zephan used one hand and pushed the head of his stiff dick downwards.
Reluctantly Milo lifted his head to meet it. Until the fag' word he probably would have used a pillow to make himself more comfortable so that he could take his time, but not anymore. Until the fag' word he might have licked his way up and down the rigid shaft to prolong the pleasure, but not anymore. Until the `fag' word he'd have happily sucked those balls into his willing mouth and given them a thorough bathing, but not anymore. With no other thought than to get this over with as soon as possible, Milo took the offered dick and immediately set about sucking the cum out of it as quickly as possible, moving his face backwards and forwards with full emphasis on speed and none on finesse. Yes, they might have both been able to enjoy this experience, now he didn't care if neither of them did. He just wanted it done.
And it didn't take long. Zephan had been right when he'd said that he needed to get off. After just a few minutes of indifferent sucking Zephan unloaded four, perhaps five, shots of cum into Milo's unwilling mouth. He wasted no time in reaching for a tissue and spitting into it.
Zephan was clearly not impressed. "Why did you spit it out, fag? And why did you go so fast? You're gonna need to do better next time," he snarled, before raising himself to standing once again. His passing shot, just before turning away, was to let loose a large gobbet of spit which landed squarely on Milo's cheek.
"You're not the only one who can spit. You'd better remember that!"
Milo barely slept that night.
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