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Mick was about ready to close up for the night, staring at his furrowed brow in the reflection of the shiny countertop.
"Seein' spots without your specs?" Lee joked, confused when Mick took a minute to answer.
"Nah. Just...nothin'."
Lee shrugged.
"Gonna exercise me legs."
Mick managed a laugh.
"Need it with all your chasin' after your near-missus."
Lee managed a laugh of his own, after some effort. He knew it hadn't been a dig, but he still wished it wasn't true, wished that he felt like he was good enough for her.
He tried not to think about it.
"Oh - tell Granddad he left his mobile. Hates these things, he says. Daft old sod."
Mick scrunched up his nose.
"Better keep it. So tired I'm likely to clog it in the bogs."
Lee wondered what was going on with his father, especially why his dad had spent most of the night staring at Kush and Martin, but he knew he and his dad had an uneasy truce over his fuck sessions with Mr. Fowler, so he wasn't going to test it.
Truth was he would have gone for another tonight if Martin hadn't staggered out with Kush. Since he just had his hand, and a conked out Whitney, he was going for the long walk and maybe a daring wank in a dark alley instead.
"See ya, Dad."
Mick waved him off, tapping his thumbs on the buttons of his form-fitting purple waistcoat. He smiled at the text from Linda, enjoying herself on the beach. He was glad Linda was off with her mum and her mum's toyboy, because she always knew when he was being weird, and the kiss with Kush had made him feel pretty damn weird. It wasn't just Kush, as much as he'd been surprised by how good the teasing and the daring had been, how it had gone straight to his big thick dick - it was Jack Branning too, the smooch he and Jack had shared at the start of the year.
Before that stag do dare in the Vic, he hadn't kissed a bloke in ages - mostly bar bets with some mates that sometimes after a few more pints turned into a quick fumble in the toilets, heavy breaths and hot hands in a mutual wank. And what he'd done with Jack hadn't even been a real kiss - mostly been a lark, a way to get out of upsetting his sensitive Linda by snogging a bird. But he'd WANTED it to be real. He still did.
Jack was a rugged man, weathered, handsome face, suits filled out by lanky, lean muscle - no cushion for the pushin' like what Mick reluctantly accepted around his gut and garters. Jack also had traces of a dangerous edge, the ex-copper hiding under his blokey persona. More than once Mick had caught Jack looking around the bar at so many lads and lasses, probably imagining how many positions he could bend and fold them in as that hissing trouser snake so far down his thigh got to work. Jack hadn't looked ashamed...instead he'd just stared right at Mick, smirking, raised his glass, an open challenge to Mick, and a reminder that he was also imagining just how and where to stick that truncheon in Mick when he was finished with all the rest.
He'd give anything right now to see Jack on the other side of that bar, wearing his best suit, jacket open, chest hair peeking out from his sweat-sheened white shirt with no vest, his nipples hard in the cool Vic air conditioning...and that bulge, long and lush, trapped at the hem of his boxers...that was on the days Jack even bothered to wear pants.
Mick grimaced as he downed a scotch. His eyelids fluttered as he groped the obscene bulge teasing through its denim prison. He was gonna ravish poor Tracey, the long-suffering, rarely-speaking Vic barmaid, if he didn't get out of here soon. He had to get out.
Mick rubbed the bags under his soft brown eyes before handing the keys to Tracey as she emerged from the storeroom.
"Be a luv and lock up," he said, kissing her forehead affectionately.
As she looked at the keys in her hand, and then watched his chunky, blue-jean-clad backside strut out of the Vic, she wondered what he was up to. If she knew her Vic owners - and she'd worked for most of them - she knew he was going to get up to trouble. They always did in Walford.
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Kush's long, delicate fingers trembled as he held them against Martin's love handles.
"Almost..." he managed, taking a sharp breath as he nearly filled his best mate. "You alright?"
Martin, still on all fours, biting his lower lip, slowly nodded.
Kush still couldn't believe he was doing this, with a fella, with a fella named Martin Fowler of all fellas, but now he wondered why it had taken him so damn long to try.
Kush had fucked his share of arse - lady arse up to now, but the difference wasn't that big. He'd also fucked his share of virgin arse...one just last week. And yet almost none of it made him as nervous as being inside Martin's hairy, hot hole. His best mate. The man he'd already hurt in so many ways. He had to practically chew his lower lip off to avoid pulling out, or immediately filling Martin with Khazemi cream.
"Took dick before, ya know," a still-drunk Martin managed as he pushed back onto Kush's uncoiled cobra, "course that was a long time ago...need ya to teach me all over again."
Kush's eyes went wide as Martin's near-virgin chute clamped down on the stiff length burrowed inside him. Clearly Martin didn't need that much teaching.
"H-How many times?" Kush asked, settling Martin down as he tried not to lose his load immediately.
Martin relaxed, his wet heat opening a bit as he remembered.
"Jamie Mitchell," he sighed, "and...Asif, me best mate. Almost. Night 'fore I married Son. Always looked so innocent, but we were proper, proper plastered...he had a ten-incher. Ten bloody inches, mate. I couldn't sit on that. I ain't a porn star. Just about broke me hands and me jaw though. And we were so drunk he was wearin' mum's weddin' hat...didn't have the heart to tell her why it smelled the next day."
Kush's eyes went wide at the image.
"Guess you have a type," Kush chuckled, feeling oddly jealous.
Martin pushed back against his shaft. Martin spoke, but his voice was halting - choking.
"Nah. Asif was my friend, but you...dunno what you are. Maybe...maybe everything."
He reached back and squeezed Kush's shaft with his slippery hand as some type of reassurance. Kush felt humbled, even as he still couldn't believe what they were doing. He felt better about doing it now, whatever they were. He knew it meant something. It wasn't just a desperate, dirty fuck.
The beads of sweat sliding down his shaved-smooth chest glistened in Martin's hairy crack, further smoothing his passage as he began to slowly slip in and out.
"Play with my tits," Martin grunted, grabbing Kush's nearest hand to place on his hair-dusted pecs.
Kush couldn't think of them as tits, but he still squeezed the small mounds of flesh, enjoying how they filled his grip. He was reminded as he tugged at the hairs on Martin's chest, then ran his perspiration-slick hands down to roughly tug at Martin's girth, that he didn't have to be as gentle as he was with a woman.
He added more power to his thrusts, the backs of Martin's hairy thighs brushing against his own muscular, smoother legs. He held Martin's thick wrists behind his back with one hand, wrapping a gentle hand around Martin's throat to pull him back, truly remind himself he was fucking a man - his best mate, his only mate - the way a man should be fucked.
A bleary-eyed Martin leaned in for a kiss, his stubble scraping Kush's smooth caramel cheek. He pushed back harder against Kush's pistoning shaft, grinning lewdly at the harsh burst of thrusts and slaps of skin-on-skin. Kush felt the spurts of pre-cum pre-coating Martin's hole. He hadn't fucked any bird raw since Stacey - last thing he needed was another kid, especially when he never even saw the one he had - so he wasn't used just how good being bareback inside Martin was. If it had been Johnny, or Lee, or even that wankworthy wanker Mick, he'd be well past his nut by now, but he wanted to make it better for Martin, make it last longer. Martin deserved the world. He couldn't give Martin that - so the least he could do was a proper fuck.
He pulled out of a surprised Martin, stopping his whines of protest with a deep kiss before slapping his fat, furry arse and turning him over, spread-eagle on the bed Martin shared with Stacey - the bed where he'd knocked Stacey up last summer. Probably even the same sheets.
"Fuck me. FUCK me..."
Kush took in a deep breath as he ignored the tempting pleas and instead kissed his way down Martin's belly, his dark, deep treasure trail...
"FUCK!" Martin shouted as Kush nervously licked the tip of Martin's uncut cock. The first cock he'd ever tasted.
Martin bucked his hips, catching Kush off guard.
"Oh God...I'm sorry..." Martin whimpered, leading Kush to kiss his wrinkled foreskin to show everything was fine.
Kush took another breath, remembering what had been done to him in the world of blowjobs, before Martin's big drunk paw of a hand began to ease him down onto the first few inches of his shaft.
Kush grunted at the way the flesh tube stretched his jaw, he did his best not to gag, wanting to please the man he'd hurt so much.
When he did gag, drool coating the corners of his mouth and running down his chin, Martin lightly slapped his stubbled cheek.
"S'alright...alright. Good job. Took me ages...learn..."
Any more coherent words were taken away by his sobering up enough to remember that his very gorgeous and very straight best mate was sucking his cock - the first cock Kush had ever sucked.
"Oh God...oh fuck..." Martin moaned, neck craned against the edge of the bed as he felt his balls churning with a fresh load. After his dirty toilet session with Johnny a few hours earlier he thought he'd be able to hold on, but Kush, his beautiful Kush, running his tongue up and down his crown, the hunger and wanting to please Martin so full in his eyes, and the slurping...oh god the slurping...
"Gotta...mate...fuck I'm -"
One last thrust into Kush's hot mouth was it for him, every last ounce of energy in his tired body channeled through his spurting, aching cock, a cock that a spluttering Kush kept in his mouth, smiling lovingly at Martin even as his seed - the first cum to ever cross Kush's luscious lips - dribbled from Kush's mouth onto the sheets below.
Martin couldn't believe this was real. He pinched a bit of fat on his stomach, groaning from the sharp pain, but also the pleasure that this had actually happened - he'd actually made the most gorgeous, straightest bloke in the world into his dick pig.
He managed to find the strength to pull Kush up, drowning in Kush's puppy dog eyes and eager smirk as they shared a hungry kiss. His cum had never tasted so good to him. Nothing had. This was the best. Nothing would ever be better for him than Kush in his bed, holding him, kissing him, wearing the residue of his seed on his lips and chin and neck like a badge of pride.
Only one thing would be better, he knew, as he hooked his arms under his legs, crudely re-exposing his hairy, half-fucked hole to his new lover.
Kush grinned as he leaned over to give Martin another sweet-hot kiss, working two of his fingers into Martin's greedy mouth, getting them nice and spit-wet, before working them into Martin's greedy hole.
"Ready?" he asked as he stretched the digits inside the warm entrance.
Before Martin could plead yes, Kush shoved his thick 7 inches all the way into Martin, the fat vein on his underside like an electric current reminding Martin of what he needed more than anything in the world - to be filled and wanted and used.
Kush hooked Martin's ankles over his shoulders and sped up his pounding into his best mate, too horny and drunk to care that Martin would barely be able to walk tomorrow.
Martin whimpered, pumping his rapidly reviving erection, one long stroke for each deep dicking.
Kush wanted to keep going, and he probably could have if he'd really tried, but Martin was pleading with his eyes, begging for cum, to be filled to bursting.
Kush felt like he would be swallowed whole as Martin pulled him forward again, the slapping sounds louder and slicker at full contact.
"Kushhhhh..." he slurred in Kush's ear, licking the shell as his big feet held firm against Kush's firm buttocks, as his fat hog oozed the beginnings of fresh cream against Kush's diamond-hard abs.
"Y-Yeah?" Kush managed, eyes bleary, voice ragged from being out of breath.
As Martin snaked a hand between himself and Kush, ruthlessly fisting his hard cock, he licked his lips - both their lips - and let himself have a sleazy, soppy smile.
"Knock me up like ya knocked my Stace up."
Kush's jaw dropped at the crude words...just in time for Martin to blow another load into his open mouth. Martin clamped down on his rock-hard rod, tighter with each fresh volley of cum painting Kush's chiseled chest.
Kush let out a low, long moan, his sculpted, perspiration-soaked body still and steady as his raw load filled Martin's hungry hole. Short, sharp bursts at first, to match his final violent thrusts, then longer, slower drops, dripping from Martin's insides, sticking to his furry crack and upper thighs. He could hear Martin's own groans of pleasure, the slurping of his lips and tongue as he pooled the cum from his well-used hole and soaked stomach in his fat fingers and tasted the combined juices.
Kush had had his eyes closed, but when he looked down, Martin was smiling at him - a cum-coated smile. Somehow, for reasons Kush understand, it didn't look dirty. It looked sweet and goofy and tired, like the man himself, with his hair going in five different directions.
"We made a baby," Martin laughed, laughing even more until Kush scowled at him in mock horror.
"You are a MUPPET," Kush said, leaning down to kiss Martin's lined forehead. "A muppet."
Martin yawned, a stupid grin on his face as he thought back to how many loads he'd pumped the past night - and the past few weeks.
"'tween you and the Carters, I ain't shagged this much since I was a teenager..."
Guilt began to creep in as he saw the photo of Stacey, Shabnam, Martin and Kush by Kush's - now their - bed.
Kush followed his gaze, suddenly feeling guilty himself.
"You still wanna marry 'er?" he asked, not really sure why.
Martin grimaced, making Kush cringe when he realized how that had sounded - like he was going to try to take Stacey off him.
"Oh yeah - I'm just waiting for my big chance to take your place," he joked, laying beside Martin, chest to chest, brushing Martin's hair back and tugging at Martin's soft cock. "I'm never gonna hurt you like that again, mate. Believe me. Please."
Martin scrunched up his nose, confusing Kush, until he settled on a big grin, and a bigger kiss, letting Kush taste himself.
He broke away to look at the photo again, and sigh.
"Yeah. I do wanna marry Stacey. And I do wanna...want to be the man she needs me to be. Good husband. Good dad."
Kush looked at him, smiling proudly, if somewhat sadly.
"Then we just had tonight. And it was great, Martin."
Martin let his hand rest on Kush's barrel chest.
"My mum would always say - you can't have everything. You're lucky to get past nothing."
Kush sucked in a breath.
"Harsh, mate."
Martin nodded.
"That was mum. You know what I say?"
He clasped Kush's hands, surprising him as he began to shift in the messy sheets.
"I say I'm gonna have it all and I don't give a toss. Not just tonight. From now on. I'm fuckin' fed up with bein' good and proper - what's it got me?"
Kush could only lick his lips as Martin straddled him, his rapidly recovering prick nestled in Martin's plump, cum-sloppy cheeks.
"I say..." Kush grinned as he shoved his stiffness back into Martin's waiting hole, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard they'll have to wheel ya down the aisle."
"Prove it," Martin taunted as he began riding the man he'd grown to need in so many different ways.
And that's exactly what Kush spent the rest of the night - and most of the next morning - doing.
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Mick had avoided the water for most of his life - his sister/mum had nearly drowned him (not a happy story) - but now...now he couldn't live without it. Swimming made him feel focused, made him find some peace instead of the usual heckle and jeckle of the pub, especially nights like this one, where he was alone, most of the rest of the gym emptied out, just him and the water, nobody staring at his bum or his arms or his belly or his well-packed Speedo.
Almost nobody, anyway.
He saw someone out of the corner of his eye, watching him take his laps. Fella looked like his gear had been put through a shredder - trousers half-undone, shirt torn, buttons hanging off or long gone. Something looked familiar about the geezer's eyes - how they studied him...
He went back to his swim, imagining he was on the beach with his missus...or pounding into Kush, with Jack breaking in the lad's smart mouth. When he looked again, the fella was gone.
When he went for his towel, the image returned.
"Bet you thought you'd seen a ghost."
Jack. A smirking Jack. His eyes...something was different about them. Something dirty.
Next thing he noticed was Jack's hands, death grip on the fluffy white towel. So much purer than either man. Or most men. Such big hands...meat hooks, with long, thick fingers. A man's hands. Rugged, worn, but elegant too. No man with hands like that could stay pure for long. Mick imagined those thick digits wrapped around his thick digit, wanking him, bringing off his big gusher. The image went right to said digit...just as he remembered he had nothing to cover himself with.
He hurriedly put his hands to his crotch, needing both hands to cover his embarrassment.
"Warm water - gets me every time."
Jack raised his eyebrows as he realized Mick was staring at his hands.
"Just the water then?"
Mick spluttered, embarrassed as he was getting even harder now, so hard he worried he'd tear a hole in his cheap purple Speedo.
"I-I gotta..." he barely said, taking a few steps back, close to the edge of the pool.
A bemused Jack took a few steps forward, seeing what Mick didn't see.
"What are ya hiding, Mick? Wanna share with the class?"
He ran a hand down his slacks, letting Mick see the busted zip...and the long, not entirely flaccid slice of beef visible in them.
Mick turned his head briefly and saw the pool a half a step away. His embarrassment turned to mischief as he knew what Jack had planned.
"I'm gonna - shit!!!" he started, fake panic in his voice as he took the last step.
Jack barely had time to get past shock when Mick's surprisingly delicate fingers gripped tight to his meaty paw of a hand, pulling him along as he "fell" into the water.
The two burly men made a huge splash in the pool, the tiled floor they'd been standing on soaked in water.
A stunned Jack, wet clothes sticking to him like a second, threadbare skin, sputtered as he saw Mick's shit-eating grin.
"Wanker!" he yelled, trying not to laugh, as he pushed Mick underwater, needing to get that smirk off the Carter patriarch's face.
His own smile began to fade when Mick stayed under longer than he'd expected.
"Mick?" he said, worried.
He didn't have any time to worry when Mick shot up out of the crystal blue water, playful glint in his eyes as he roughly shoved Jack below the depths.
Jack was a good swimmer, unlike Mick, so he got up quickly, but as the rivulets of water ran down his face he was still seething. He didn't even know why - it was just fun, having a laugh. Then when he saw Mick's soft brown eyes staring at him, he knew why - he really, really fancied Mick, and only a few hours after the wild threeway he'd had with the Mitchell brat Ben and his curly-haired fuckboy Paul, he was still horny, still desperate for a man's touch.
It had just been rough, raw sex with Ben and Paul - slapping their young, needy faces as they competed over his cock and balls, tearing at their clothes, shoving them on the bed half-dressed, stroking himself through his suit trousers as they humped and stripped each other at his pleasure, his hand around a startled, desperately turned on Ben's throat, guiding a bewildered Paul's fist up a whimpering, wide-eyed Ben's plump, needy arse, tugging and tugging at Paul's long, curly locks, soft and rough to remind him of who his master was, longdicking a moaning, pleading Paul who rode him as Ben sat in a nearby chair, hands tied, helpless to even wank his own aching prick, finally coming and coming in violent spurts without help as Jack whispered filth in Paul's ear to make Paul tell him what a dirty bitch he was and how the Mitchells would love to know he was a whore for copper dick.
He knew it wouldn't be like that with Mick - it would be loving, and tender - and that scared him.
Jack and Mick floated in the water for long minutes, staring at each other, the overhead lights bathing them in an eerie glow.
"What big hands ya have," Mick joked, trying to break the weird tension.
Jack placed his hands on Mick's strong shoulders, intended as a matey gesture, but they squeezed Mick's shoulders in a way that he'd never do to a mate. The hands moved to Mick's neck, scraping against his beard, with just enough pressure to remind him of who they were and what they were going to do.
He instinctively pulled Mick closer to him, the alpha in him taking over.
"All the better to - " Jack started to joke, but he couldn't finish. Not when Mick was staring at him, licking his lips.
They were like two teenagers, so Jack did what he would've done when he was a teenager, what he wanted to do now - he cupped his big hands behind Mick's head and pulled him in for a kiss. Mick didn't bother to resist.
At first the kiss was the opposite of how they'd been on New Year's - this one ravenous instead of playful. Mick grunted as he felt Jack's large hands all over his body, mapping him out - pinching his nipples, tugging at his wet mop of chest fur, squeezing his belly, pushing hard against his bum, driving him forward as their they ground their lower halves against each other through their last layers of clothes.
Jack knew it was really serious when Mick's hands, dripping with water, peeled off the white shirt that was a transparent film to his hairy, leanly muscled chest and stomach. Jack tore at the cuff that somehow still hadn't come undone, his other hand roughly shoved inside Mick's skintight Speedo, nearly cutting off his circulation as he began crude jerking motions.
"Ffffffuck...wank me ya wanker..." Mick wheezed as he buried his face - and teeth - into Jack's bare right shoulder.
Jack's black trousers remained on his soaked body, as Mick instead feverishly pawed at his toned pecs and flat stomach, his own hairy belly pressed tight to the bare flesh as their mouths and teeth clashed, angry kisses peppered with grunts and guttural moans.
"Wanna..." he muttered, "fuck ya..." in between sharp, hungry bites on Jack's lips and chin. "NOW."
"You ever fucked a bloke?" Jack asked, flat, his voice in interrogation mode, as he tweaked Mick's tits, pinched his stomach.
"N-Nah," Mick admitted, all thoughts drawn between his legs as his prick, nearly as thick around as a beer bottle, glued itself to his Speedo with Jack's steady tugs. His balls, hairy and heavy with cum, were hanging out, dangling in the warm water.
"Only one fella's ever fucked me," Jack leaned over to whisper, the warm lapping of the water and the hot breath against his ear lulling Mick into a state of drowsiness.
Mick jumped as Jack squeezed the base of his cock - hard.
"And you ain't gonna be the next."
Mick smirked through the delicious pain, waking up enough to tear the worn button of Jack's slacks, to watch Jack's slender but lengthy shaft bobbing in the clear water.
"We'll see mate," he taunted, brushing his middle and index fingers up and down the crack of Jack's taut backside, slowly winning entrance to the dark crevice.
Jack lolled his head around, sweat in his eyes and mouth, adjusting to the pressure and pleasures of Mick's digits. The further they burrowed in, the more control he gave up to his prostate...and he didn't want to lose control right now.
"Most you'll ever get in me, Carter," he boasted, grinning as he yanked a shocked Mick's Speedos down in one sharp jerk with his meaty paws, laughing as he threw them toward the other side of the pool.
"You CUNT!" Mick said, with a laugh and a snarl, before he swam for his kit, giving Jack a prime view of his plump backside against the water.
When Mick managed to reach them, he was surprised to feel the long arm of the law wrapped around his belly, the long cock of the law nestled between his furry, deep crack...and a harsh whisper kissed into his ear.
"You ever been fucked, Mick? Like your son?"
Mick groaned, giving in to the images in his head as he felt Jack's callused sausage fingers wrapped around his shaft. He'd used Linda's toys a few times, liking the way they made him feel whole, but a real cock, flesh and force erupting inside him...
He managed to turn, Jack's length rapidly hardening to full arousal as Mick's muscular thighs brushed against it, soon followed by Mick's mouthwatering thickness pressed fully against his shaft, the unsheathed crown bumping the base.
"Gotta contortionist 'ere," Jack managed to joke, in heavy breaths, before he was cut off by Mick's tongue down his throat.
He squeezed Mick's juicy arse tight with his meat hooks, the friction between their kissing cocks making both men make obscene gasps and groans. They knew it wasn't going to be long, it was just who was going to break first.
"Gimme that cum..." Jack whispered in Mick's red ear, teasing with his teeth and tongue, each new taste of flesh leading to another spurt of pre-cum from the Carter cock.
Mick whimpered, pinching at Jack's hard nipples and tugging at the hairs surrounding them, not wanting to "lose."
"Gonna feed it to ya," Jack promised, lovingly, softly, peppering with kisses and bites on Mick's scruffy neck as he took their shafts in his big hand, brushed the red, uncut cocks up and down. "Just give in, Mick. Family man...dad...dirty little slag..."
Mick cried out as he began to decorate his stomach and Jack's rock-rigid length with his pent-up seed, grey-white spurts splattering their entwined bodies and the water coated with their juices. He took sharp breaths, shaking as he knew he wasn't just losing a load, but also years of loyalty to his marriage.
"S'alright..." Jack muttered, staring into his eyes, kissing his nose.
Mick was still finishing his last short bursts when he saw Jack close his eyes, felt him ejaculating against his thighs as his slowly softening shaft bumped against Mick's hair-matted, barely-drained balls.
They kissed for another few minutes as they came down, laughing and trying to catch their breath.
Mick couldn't help feeling a bit of sadness even as he got used to an alpha male's hands on his body - sadness at what Linda would think if she saw him now.
Fortunately he knew she never would.
"Regrets?" Jack asked, giving him that copper stare again, as they began to cool in the water.
"Dunno," Mick said, swimming over to the edge.
He scrambled to get out, embarrassed at his slips and slides as he remembered he didn't have a towel.
"Nice view," Jack teased as Mick, now standing, turned, realizing Jack had gotten a prime look at his hairy hole while he'd clambered out. "Even nicer now," he smirked when he got an eyeful of Mick's half-hard todger, bobbing between his thick thighs.
"Do this a lot, ol' cock o'the walk like you," Mick said, arms against his stomach as Jack pulled himself out of the pool. Jack was gorgeous dripping wet - his trimmed chest and thin leg hair tamped down, his well-defined muscles rippling, especially his arms as he got out to join Mick on the slick surface.
"Actually, I don't," Jack corrected, not sure why he was bothering, as he'd never had any particular guilt on the times he had cheated.
"Not much spurt in yer six-gun for a pristine prat," Mick replied, Jack rolling his eyes at the endless slang.
"My old lady's smart as they come," he said, toweling off, his dance on long, highly toned legs hypnotizing Mick until he handed Mick the towel. He then watched Mick's jawbreaker flopping as he did the same awkward movements. "Too smart for 'er own good sometimes...but she knows when a fella strays."
Mick laughed, nervously, tugging at his horse meat absentmindedly.
"Should I pack up the wifey and kids and move to Barbados?"
Jack scratched the back of his neck.
"Nah. She's distracted...not really like she usedta be. Besides -"
He reached over to tweak Mick's shaft.
"You weren't the first bloke I put my hands on tonight - doubt you'd be the one she'd go Darth Ron on either."
Mick laughed, nervously.
"I'll remember that."
Jack shrugged as he made his way to the locker rooms, Mick crudely stroking himself at the sight of the tight cheeks in motion.
Once they got inside, Jack surprised him with another quick kiss, and reassuring hands around his waist.
"Done a lotta things I wish I hadn't, Mick...but this ain't one of 'em."
Mick nodded, not sure what to say, glad when he turned the showers on and felt the warm spray as a distraction.
"It's just - I don't do this," Mick said, soaping up his chest, eyes closed.
Jack laughed.
"Nobody does...'til they do."
Mick wanted to argue, but he couldn't stop watching Jack spread his cheeks, thick fingers sliding in and out of his nearly untouched anus as his free hand stroked his meat. Mick wanted those to be his fingers, his hands...
"Look down, Mick."
Mick was embarrassed to see that his heavy-hanging prick was back to full mast, aching and in need.
Jack made his way over, kissing the embarrassment from his mate.
"Some blokes are fine with cocoa and telly..." Jack reasoned, as he squeezed at Mick's low-hangers, traced a thumbnail in his foreskin.
Mick shuddered, too ashamed to respond to his body being taken this way - just the way he needed.
"Some fellas...they need this," he said, emphasized as he wrapped one hand around the base of the shaft, barely managing to get the grip before he added another.
"Fuck, mate," Mick groaned, knees shaking at the feel of the slippery wet hands crudely wanking him.
"You ain't fit for one hole, Mick..." Jack grunted, letting his soapy shaft rub against Mick's gut. "They all go in that fuckin' pub and see ya in that waistcoat and those tight jeans you put on to show off your big dirty dick...they all stare...watch ya bend over..."
Mick tried to ask him to stop, but he was barely able to avoid passing out from the sensations.
"Put ya on that bartop and strip every layer...sit on your face, fingers and tongues up your manky arsehole..."
Mick grunted again, clinging to Jack's shoulders like a lifeline, Jack's flat, harsh whispers sending shockwaves.
"Such a hardman..."
He kissed Mick, hard, forcing Mick to look in the eye.
"Such a cumrag..."
Mick collapsed in Jack's arms as he blew his load for the second and last time that night, wild shots that sprayed both men all over and took the last bits of energy he had left.
Mick barely noticed Jack finishing himself off, but couldn't help noticing the feel of Jack's long fingers in his mouth, drenched in their mutual cum.
"Told ya I'd feed ya."
The taste was almost too much for Mick at first, but he quickly adjusted, suckling Jack's fingers, greedily licking them clean. Next were his thumbs. Jack moved them around Mick's hungry mouth, grinning through sharp teeth when Mick playfully bit at them as he lapped up the last drops.
"Good boy," Jack whispered gravelly as he gave him another quick-but-intense kiss, pinched his belly as a sign of affection.
Jack had a spare track suit in the lockers, tossing his clothes in the bin. He looked at the shredded shirt and trousers with a fond smile, remembering the wild threeway he'd had with Ben and Paul and the sweeter but somehow even more satisfying sex he'd just had with Mick.
"Ready to go?" Mick managed through a yawn.
Jack looked at his phone, seeing various texts from Ronnie, detailing that she'd had a big barney with Roxy and not to come home because they'd be sorting it out all night.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh.
"Left the bath on?" a tired Mick tried to joke.
Jack smiled, more from pity than meaning it.
"Summat like that."
His smile became a bit more genuine as he had an idea.
"Fancy a sleepover?"
000000
Mick and Jack made their way to the Vic, straight mates for all the world knew, talking about the Euros and if England would ever have a chance, when Mick got a call from Linda.
"Yeah, L - wot's wrong L? Oh...your mum had a row with her bum fluff toyboy? Yeah I know - shouldn't call 'im that. Soz. Tell ol' Mick all yer troubles."
Mick ducked into the cafe, waving for Jack to go on. Jack knew Mick felt guilty, but he was glad to see Mick was still able to be himself. The last thing he needed was for Ronnie and the Carters to chase him down the street with axes and rolling pins and broken beer bottles.
He stood outside, looking for his sneaky fags that he only went back to on nights like this where he felt good and didn't care about how fucking long it would take to get off 'em again.
He saw Mick's baby boy Johnny, the twink of Walford, fumbling for his keys to the Vic as he made out with a man Jack quickly recognized as Tom, the hunky local paramedic the ladies always joked with about giving them mouth-to-mouth. He was a little too blonde and a little too perfect-looking for Jack's taste, but Johnny was young and full of cum - his and probably half the other men around Walford - so type didn't matter as much. Johnny yanked a blushing Tom's top over his head as he pushed him inside the Vic. Getting a look at Tom's six-pack and hair-dusted pecs and a thick shaft shoved into tight black jeans, Jack got a good idea at just what Johnny saw in him.
As he lit his fag, the flicker let him see a chunkier lad in the alleyway...with another young man on his knees, servicing him. He should have been more surprised to see the bloke getting his balls washed was Mick's oldest, Lee, but the way Lee had checked him out the last few months, he wasn't that shocked.
He was a little more surprised at the lad feverishly sucking Lee's big nuts (a family trait, apparently) and slapping his face with the engorged flesh beast - it was Ben Mitchell, the fella he'd wrecked only hours before. Maybe it was the Mitchell stamina he knew well from Ronnie, or maybe just being 20 years old, but for someone who'd been tied up, fisted, and double-penetrated, he was still hungry for more.
Jack groped his crotch absentmindedly, surprised he even had any more in him after the night he'd had.
Ben's arse crack, the crack that Jack's fingers, tongue and dick knew intimately, showed at the top of his jeans as he made quick work of Lee's sausage. Lee's head was back, Adam's apple red raw with teeth marks, as Ben alternated bites, long licks, and loud sucks. Ben's jeans were open and he was fisting his shaft, desperate, crude sounds of slick sex. Jack also saw bite marks on Lee's incredible thighs, making Jack wonder how he'd explain them to Whitney.
"Lemme see that arse," Ben hissed, spitting on his fingers as he turned Lee around. He made a sound of wonder at the sight, like he'd just gotten the best Christmas gift. Jack couldn't blame him - Lee had a juicy, gorgeous pair of cheeks, pure peach - a real bubble arse. When Ben smacked them, they jiggled, and Lee moaned loud enough to wake the dead.
"Shut up will ya," Ben whispered dramatically before spitting on his fingers again, then spreading Lee's glutes open to spit right into his crack.
Ben hesitated a moment before diving into the tight shithole, so eager that Lee's entire body buckled against the brick wall for support.
Jack was so caught up in the naked perversion that it took a few minutes for him to see the other fella in the alley, who was holding a wallet...and the keys to the Vic.
It was Jay Brown, Ben's ginger mate and adopted "brother," although anyone who'd lived in Walford for more than a minute could tell you Ben didn't look at him like a brother. Well - not most brothers...at least outside of Walford...
Jay was groping himself through his track bottoms, clearly freeballing going by the lump pressed against the grey cotton.
He jumped when Jack suddenly stood beside him, his curse cut off by the big hand over his mouth.
Jack wasn't all that surprised to see Jay's pupils were dilated. Jay had gotten some coke from Jack's ex and Ronnie's sister Roxy and...clearly put it to bad use.
"That stuff'll kill ya," he whispered in Jay's ear, making a mock sniffing sound as he grabbed Lee's wallet and keys from the long, delicate fingers.
As they turned to watch Ben slowly deep-throating Lee, Jack began groping Jay through his track bottoms, simultaneously lifting up his crisp white polo shirt to see the taut six-pack underneath. Jay then looked over at Jack, gormlessly...aroused and confused. Jack had never noticed just how beautiful Jay's chiseled features were, especially in the street light.
"Give ya a tenner if ya kiss me right now," Jack murmured against his smooth cheek, catching Jay's breath.
When he was younger, he hadn't liked to snog blokes - thought it made him less of a man - but as he'd gotten older he'd learned it was just another way of showing feelings...and a way to dominate, as he did when he cupped the back of Jay's head in his big hands and snogged him, relishing the whimpers of surprise and pleasure as Jay locked lips with him, with the first man he'd ever kissed.
Their kiss was surprisingly tender, needy, Jay quickly giving full control to the older Jack's skilled lips and tongue.
He whimpered again, this time in disappointment, as Jack broke away.
"Fifty if ya drop your trackies," Jack grinned, grinning all the more when a money-desperate Jay glared at him.
Jay stopped to think for a minute, rolling his eyes in defeat before pushing the baggy bottoms down. His slender 7 inches immediately smacked against his no-longer-pristine top. The piece was gorgeous, capped off by trimmed ginger pubes and tight balls, but Jack was more interested in turning him around, lifting his shirt to get a good, extended leer at the arse that had filled out so much in Jack's years away from Walford.
Jay jumped as Jack ran his big, callused mitt over the supple flesh, allowing himself a handful to squeeze.
Their attention again turned to Ben and Lee, as Lee was now roughly facefucking a gagging Ben, Ben craning his head to take more and more and more of the thick todger down his greedy throat.
If Jack hadn't already had so much fun all night, he'd yank his own trousers down and teach Jay a lesson in wanking, but he settled for wrapping his hand around Jay's shaft, staring into his eyes as he methodically masturbated the young lad.
"Bet you want Ben on his knees," Jack mumbled into Jay's long neck, the lad's breaths shallower and shallower.
"He-He's me brother," Jay gasped in between eye-rolls and knee quakes, gasped unconvincingly.
Jack laughed, dirty and low chuckle. Then turned Jay's head to stare full on.
"Wanna know what I did with my brother?"
And that did it - that set Jay off, groaning and shouting as he stained Jack's jerking hand and the crotch of his trackies. He was loud enough to where someone would have heard...if Lee hadn't been yelling while plastering Ben's face and glasses full of cum at the same time.
After their mutual comedowns, Jack gave Jay one last long, slow kiss, and sixty quid.
"Plenty more..." he offered, squeezing Jay's still-hard prick, along with his gorgeous ass, before Jay fled into the shadows.
As Jack stepped back, Ben, jeans half-around his ankles, leaking, oozing soft prick, ran in the same direction as Jay.
Lee scurried back to the Vic, and Jack...waited for Mick and lit another fag.
000000
Lee had a pouty gaze as Jack and Mick, arms around each other in a we're-bros-not-bum-chums way, strolled into the Vic.
"Been here for hours," Lee lied, making Jack smirk again.
"Soz," Mick said, meaning it, meaning it enough to where Lee softened. "Gonna go call your mum - then take a long kip."
When Jack and Lee were alone, Lee leaned against the bar, hands on hips. It was supposed to be a bit of a warning, most likely, but all Jack could focus on was his thick hips and the fat packet glued to his jeans.
"Nightcap?" Lee hinted, rather than asked.
Jack didn't take the bait.
"Nah. Missus is havin' it out with her sister. Your dad said I could crash with him."
Lee couldn't bother to hide his surprise...
"Are you -?"
Jack laughed.
"Do you really wanna know?"
Lee blushed, looked down at the floor, but then looked up again, defiant.
"I'm not gonna let you hurt 'im. Don't know you. Don't trust ya."
Jack couldn't say he was wrong.
"Warnin' me off?"
Lee didn't say anything - maybe he had no idea either.
Jack decided to settle it, handing a thrown Lee his wallet and the Vic key.
"Let me give you a warnin' - never trust a Mitchell."
As Lee's jaw dropped at the realization Jack had seen everything not long before, Jack did him another favor by closing his mouth - with a short kiss.
"Another warning," he said, quietly and confidently, as Lee gasped at the large hand suddenly cupping his massive package.
"Zip's open," he teased, zipping Lee all the way and giving one last big squeeze before walking toward the stairs for the upper rooms.
He could see Lee's eyes on his back - and his backside - as he left.
By the time he got upstairs, pausing long enough to get a good look through the half-open door of top totty Tom's long dick slowly sliding in and out of cockslut Johnny (whose legs were wrapped around the lightly muscular man for dear life), Mick was already in his tight black briefs.
"Love ya L," he said to his mobile before turning it off.
He let out a surprised, but pleased cry when he suddenly felt Jack's strong arms around him, Jack pushing both of them onto the bed.
"Strip me," Jack commanded, laying back to let Mick make work of his shirt and trousers.
"Yessir!"
Soon his track suit and trainers were in a pile on the floor, with his efforts to add Mick's tight black bikini briefs to the pile not quite successful...yet.
"I just -" Mick said, embarrassed. "I just want somebody's arms 'round me."
Jack nodded, kissing Mick's bare shoulder before wrapping him up tight, shaft pressed to Mick's mighty bum, but not taking it any further.
More silence passed.
"I do love L," he said, wracked by guilt. "I just - I need this."
Jack moved from Mick's shoulder to the crook of his neck to his forehead, finally his lips, doing his best to give support.
Mick craned his head to look over, smiling fondly before shutting his eyes.
Jack didn't mind the soft touch, but as he watched Mick sleep, he knew he'd have to work that husbandly guilt out of him to really have fun with his new mate.
As he began drifting to sleep, he came up with one wonderful idea in particular...