Eastenders is the property of the BBC. I claim no rights and am making nothing off of this story. This is a work of fiction and has nothing to do with the actors in the roles. Don't take anything in this story as in any way resembling real life or any guide to what you or anyone else should do in life. Read only if you're 18 or older.
Thank you for all your feedback and suggestions, which I'll do my best to work into the chapters. Sorry for the delay between chapters.
I have been very busy but I do plan to finish the requests I've had for a story with Mick and Johnny and Lee right after Johnny comes out. I'm about halfway through, and it will be several chapters long. Sorry for the delay on that too.
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00000
Jack woke up after a few hours of rest, moonlight streaming in from curtains Mick had never bothered to close.
Mick was a heavy sleeper, tossing and turning the whole time. Jack didn't know how Linda tolerated it. Then again, that black-briefed bulge digging into his inner thigh wasn't exactly a burden.
As he kept his head on Mick's sturdy left shoulder, his hand on Mick's hairy stomach, he wondered if Mick was more restless than usual because his wife wasn't around. They were the most devoted couple Jack had ever seen...until tonight, anyway. He didn't think much about monogamy - other than to see it as something better suited to bad romcoms he used as coasters when Ronnie wasn't around. He was crazy about Ronnie, but she was such hard work, he could never just be with her and only her. He wouldn't be bothered if she felt the same about being with other blokes, or birds, as long as she didn't try to kill him like she did with her last ex. He knew she probably would call out the hitmen if she knew he strayed - even if she'd probably be happier he was with Mick than another go-round with her dozy sister - so that's why he kept it quiet. Like he was going to keep his fuck session with Ben Mitchell and the Coker lad quiet too. He'd always had an easy time keeping his gropes and grunts with other blokes quiet - not because of some old malarkey about men being steel and women being soft, but because most of the blokes he stuck his dick in were enough like him to know silence was the smart way to go - only way to go.
"Mmmph..."
Jack felt Mick's palm push at the middle of his chest, soon distracted by Mick's puppy dog eyes blinking through their fatigue.
"L?" Mick slurred with a cotton mouth.
Jack furrowed his eyebrows.
"Not unless she's stopped shavin' 'er chest."
Mick didn't laugh, instead crouching into a sitting position, giving Jack a better look at his great legs once the sheets moved away.
It didn't take long for Jack to see he was still feeling guilty.
"Want me to go?"
Mick began to nod, but then stopped, looking down at his hands.
"Already marked me card. Cheatin' sod..."
Jack hated seeing Mick beat himself up, especially over something like simple pleasure with a mate. He put his hand on Mick's toned upper thigh, letting it rest there when Mick just looked down rather than push him away.
"I don't think anything I say's gonna help ya."
He squeezed Mick's cotton-clad shaft, now hardening, much to Mick's shame.
"Now what I could DO..."
Mick swallowed, pausing for a second before laying back as a silent assent.
Jack leaned over Mick, surprised at the vulnerability in place of the usual Vic hardman mask.
Normally Jack would get what he wanted (above anything else, Mick's juicy, hairy arse) and split, but he liked Mick. He liked Mick a lot.
He slowly lowered his face to share a tender kiss with Mick before even more slowly kissing his way down Mick's jawline and stubbled neck, burying his nose in the light brown chest fur. He took special time to swirl his tongue around Mick's button nipples, biting one, then the other after hearing Mick whimper at the gentle assault.
He continued his travels, resting his smooth cheek against Mick's furry pot belly, flicking his tongue inside the sweaty navel to wring another gasp out of his new lover.
"Dirty sod," Mick laughed, looking down at Jack with the biggest grin.
Jack smiled back, wondering if he looked at Linda that way too when she was where he was right now.
Probably not a good idea to ask.
Instead, he got back to business, breathing in the scent of aroused, sweat-soaked masculinity as he took his time lowering Mick's briefs with his teeth.
"Oh-oh-" Mick managed, clumsily cupping the back of Jack's head.
Jack paused again to take in the look of complete lust on Mick's face, the desire etched into the lines around his eyes, the perversion of the corners around his mouth. The way he tossed his head against the pillow, licked his lips, lolled his tongue.
Mick's massive girth smacked hard against Jack's cheek upon finding freedom. Jack kissed the uncut meat as he held it - barely - in both of his meat hooks of hands. He rolled the foreskin down as best he could, blowing the exposed glans to see Mick bounce and writhe at the cool breeze.
"Wanna stop?" he asked, not teasing, being genuine.
"No," Mick managed to respond, shame, and overwhelming need, in his growl.
Jack nodded before catching Mick off guard by swallowing the first few inches of his mammoth hardness.
Mick howled at Jack's mouthwork, at the warm and wet sensation against the top of his stiff pole.
"Feels good?" Jack muttered around the tasty tube steak.
Mick, eyes watering, nodded, bucking his hips as he hit the back of Jack's throat.
Jack's mouth watered, saliva dampening Mick's bushy pubes and thick treasure trail as he braved a few more inches.
Mick was practically convulsing now, his big toe nudging and scraping against the stiff erection Jack crudely thrust against the bottom of the bedcovers.
"Fuckin' fuck...whore mouth...dirty copper slag...cop cunt...gonna nut in ya..."
Jack looked up in awe at what he'd done to the strong, steady landlord - now a broken, furry fuckslut. His jaw would never forgive him, but it was worth it, he knew, as he slipped his middle finger into his mouth.
He tossed an extra pillow at Mick's sweaty, contorted face as he shoved the two fingers up Mick's virgin shithole, eagerly and expectantly taking the raw load burning through his gullet as Mick screamed into the white cotton. Screamed so loud Jack was pretty sure they'd still wake up one Carter or another, but even if the whole fucking clan stormed in and saw him kneeling on the edge of the bed, hairy twat spread wide, their dad's dirty cream dripping down his hollowed-out cheeks.
He was still rock hard, bobbing against Mick's shapely calf, but Mick's face was still buried in the pillow. Jack began kissing his way back up Mick's satiated body, leaving a trail of spit and cum along the matted hair and glistening skin that was his stomach and chest. He carefully removed the pillow, looking down as he wiped the sweat...sweat and tears...from Mick's guilt-ridden eyes.
"Ch-cheers," Mick stammered, as Jack pulled him up by the back of his short brown hair.
"Weren't exactly doin' ya a favor," Jack replied, the kiss Mick then gave him - surprising Jack that he initiated the kiss - telling him that this was as far as Mick could go. That and Mick not noticing the aching Branning beefstick imprinted against his gut.
"Letcha get some z's, me man Mick," Jack promised, pleased when Mick rolled his eyes at the forced faux-Cockney banter. Even more pleased when Mick rolled over to unwittingly give Jack a glimpse of his chunky, hairy arse.
"Might have a surprise for ya later," he said, not sure if Mick heard him.
Well, Mick would be getting it whether he heard or not.
00000
Ben was glad his cousin Billy had gone on holiday with the wife and kids, as it left an entire empty flat to spend the night in. It was easier to not have to deal with bulldozer stepmum Sharon or his irritating kid sister Louise when he was clambering in in the middle of the night...especially after he'd gone from being facefucked by his cousin Ronnie's dead fit daddy of a boyfriend to being fisted by his own boyfriend to shoving his face right into Lee Carter's big fat juicy flesh pillow of an arse. He'd done the latter for his best mate Jay, who was desperate for drug money. They'd planned to rob Lee. Hadn't really worked out, as Jay had lost the dosh, but beyond helping Jay, he'd really just wanted a reason to get to lap up Lee's sweaty manhole, and this was the best he could come up with outside of falling of putting a banana peel on the Vic floor and getting Lee to land right on his face.
Paul had happily agreed to the sleepover, just as he'd happily agreed to getting wrecked by the hot daddy piece of Ben's other cousin Ronnie. Ben hoped Ronnie would never find out about that one...
The way Jay had looked into his eyes once he and Paul had dropped him onto the bed, Ben wondered if he and Paul might be having another threesome in the space of a few hours...but then he'd realized Jay was probably still coming down from his coke high. He could never let himself believe Jay wanted him that way. It hurt too much.
He knew Jay had lost the money they'd taken from Lee, but had still managed to find enough to buy another packet of his favorite getaway drug. He hadn't told Ben how or why, but the huge wet spot on his gray trackies gave even more questions.
Ben helped Jay out of his top, too tired to hide that he was openly ogling the toned, smooth flesh so warm under his touch. In his years away from Walford Ben had left behind a scrawny scally and returned to find a mouthwatering man, pecs and defined abs pale in the cheap overhead light.
"I won't stop you," Paul cheekily whispered in his good ear, kissing his neck before digging through one of Jay's hoodie pockets. Ben wanted to ask what he was looking for, and what he meant, until he looked down to see Jay's boner, very much awake even as he dozing off, sticky against the cum-drenched sweatpants.
He was tempted - his mouth was literally watering - but he couldn't. Not with Jay. Jay might call him everything he knew he was deep down - a perv, a dirty faggot desperate to suck the jizz from his straight best mate. "Brother."
Taking another look at the slim, thrusting hips of the man he loved, he went to look for the other man he loved, who was sitting on the sofa, now clad in just skintight jeans that shaped his dancer's legs and well-muscled arse.
A closer look saw him with his face over the white powder Ben had come to see so much of these last few months.
"Paul?" he asked, expecting his boyfriend to turn around bleeding from the nose and mouth like a horror movie.
Paul laughed and wiped his nose, eyes now animated by more than his usual sunny personality.
"Sorry...just need the pick-me-up. Used to do a line during my gigs in Paris. Don't notice the groping hands as much that way."
Ben nodded, mind wandering as he'd remembered Paul confiding in him that he'd been in sex shows and done stripping to pay his way through Europe. He'd only told him that after Ben had reluctantly done the striptease he'd promised for Paul's birthday, slowly, awkwardly shaking off his Archer's overalls and white grease-stained top to reveal the tubby tummy and chunky arse that Paul never managed to keep his hands - or mouth, or slim 6 inches - away from.
Ben had been relieved to learn about Paul's past - even if wasn't anywhere near as broken and twisted as his own. Just as he'd been relieved to learn Paul was happy to let him fuck other fellas - "just not in my bed, alright? That's really creepy." He wasn't as happy to learn Paul also took dick and loads from other blokes - hypocrite or not, he wanted to smash their knees in - but he was glad to know Paul didn't want anything too serious. He loved Paul, he was starting to know for sure, to be proud of even - but he wasn't ready to just take have one hole, one cock, one mouth, no matter how sweet the smile was.
He was happy to have only one boyfriend though. And he was happy that was Paul.
Paul pulled him onto the sofa, kissing away his thoughts as he peeled off most of Ben's hastily rebuttoned and zipped clothes.
Ben grunted as Paul's perfect teeth bit at his belly.
"Your uncle's got a great arse," Paul grinned as he tugged Ben's jeans down, hungrily devouring the thick dickmeat drooling against his beefy thigh.
"H-He ain't me uncle..." Ben managed to mutter, "and I don't wanna talk about Billy and his arse..."
He punctuated that thought by shoving up roughly into Paul's golden throat, tugging rough in Paul's dark curls. He was so glad he'd convinced Paul to stop wearing that fucking stupid headband.
Ben was roughly turned over, shouting sharply as Paul's usually delicate hands smacked against his gloriously plump cheeks before parting them.
"You try seein' it every day...in those trousers...tight and black..." Paul paused to spit in Ben's hole, still sensitive from Jack's rough fuck. "'Accidentally' grabbed it a few times...'accidentally' ground my bum against his crotch..."
Ben shouldn't have been happy to learn Paul was groping his hapless...cousin or whatever Billy was, but the image made him dribble against Billy's leather sofa.
Ben had expected Paul's tongue or fingers, so the light buzzing sound emanating from the cool plastic circling his twitching starfish made him yelp again.
"What are you - "
Paul put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing, nails digging just enough to soothe Ben's nerves.
"I cleaned it. Honey won't even notice I took it."
Ben grunted a negative response, but he was too busy gently fucking himself on the vibrator to take the moral high road.
"On second thought I might keep this one..." Paul said, admiring the way Ben's blush-stained cheeks steadily swallowed the hot pink toy currently halfway in his rectum. A few more slow inches and Ben convulsed slightly at the pleasure to his well-stimulated prostate.
Just as Paul was about to undo his jeans, he got a text. A devilish grin crossed his face before he looked down to the greedy hole he was currently satisfying. He looked at the text again, seeing the urgency.
"Gotta go, sweet cheeks," he said, giving Ben another hard smack - and a loving, lingering kiss - before slipping his trainers on.
"Wait!" Ben cried, still impaled on the vibrator, still on his knees, wiping the sweat from his glasses. "You ain't even dressed...and what about - what about ME?"
Paul's grin faded a bit, before he looked down at the jeans he was currently poured into, his bare, glistening chest, and Ben's nude, strained body...the girth calling for his attention, mushroom head peeking through the retracting sheath Paul's teeth and tongue knew all too well.
"You're right," Paul said, serious, before he shocked Ben even further by pulling his jeans off, the slow tug over his trainers giving Ben a closeup view of the cunt he'd put everything including his favorite spanner at the Arches into. Ben tried to reach out, only to be lightly slapped away by Paul, Paul's shaft slapping his cheek as he turned around.
"I'll have one hell of a story for you. Promise."
His boyfriend winked as he left the flat wearing nothing but his sneakers.
Ben was confused, annoyed, but still somehow desperately horny above anything else...probably because the sex toy inside him jostled every time he moved.
He would try to track down Paul, but first...
He stood on his knees, pinching his well-abused tits before letting his slick hand travel down his stomach and tug his full balls before he settled onto his demanding shaft. His other hand began to slowly, then more quickly piston the vibrator in and out of his hole.
He imagined Paul's mouth on his meat, Johnny Carter's hot tongue on his nuts and licking his sweaty taint...and Jay fucking him, Jay whispering absolute filth in his ear, giving him that dirty grin he'd given every time he'd seen Ben checking out his abs or his arse or his bulge.
Jay dominating him, punishing him. Jay's long fingers wrapped around his throat.
"Jay..." he whispered, louder and louder as he pushed the setting to let the plastic prick tremor inside him. "Jay...Jay..."
"Ben?" he suddenly heard, his eyes flying wide open as he saw a nude Jay standing in front of him, bleary-eyed and big-dicked.
The only thing Ben could do was open his mouth wide, a silent cry as he sprayed his cousin's sofa with volley after volley of cream.
He was humiliated, but he'd never felt hornier. The conflicting sensations brought tears to his eyes even as he felt Jay's hand on his shaking shoulder.
As Jay's long, rapidly expanding shaft nuzzled his lips, Ben looked up in awe...and gratitude, and fear. He knew only one thing - that the night was just beginning.
00000
Jack was in for a surprise of his own as he went down the dimly lit corridor.
Brainy twink Johnny, the most sheltered of the Carter clan even in his early twenties (Jack couldn't think about what he was doing in his early twenties without blushing), was all alone in bed, writhing as he slipped a butt plug in and out of his clearly well-satisfied hole.
Maybe not so sheltered after all.
Jack wanked at the vision of such corrupted innocence, one hand full of dickmeat as the other texted a message to Mick's surprise visitor.
It would be nasty to go from choking on Mick's dick to piledriving into his precious baby boy, especially since Jack was also going to get a piece of his big brother (big in every way if Jack's keen detective eye was still in good nick) Lee at first possibility, but then, Jack was a big believer in not letting an opportunity pass him - or his stiff seven and a half inches - by.
Before he changed his mind, Jack strolled into the bedroom, Johnny's eyes going wide just as his surprisingly fat shaft - those Carters were full of surprises - blew its load at the sight of the fit ex-copper starkers and swinging.
Johnny said nothing, just, with a greedy gleam in his eyes, grabbed for Jack's truncheon.
"Good on ya," Jack snarled, running an affectionate hand through the young man's curly brown hair. He'd seen the Carter lad checking him out more than once - he was just glad Johnny was enough of a slag to not object to a fumble when his bed and fuckhole were still warm and full of cum.
He leaned over Johnny's lithe body, grunting a bit to realize Johnny was already near his pubes. He took Johnny's revived arousal in his mouth as a thank you, slowly sucking the twenty-something todger into his throat, relaxed from the suck job on his dad's whopper.
Johnny whimpered when Jack carefully removed the plug from between his tight cheeks, lapping up the juices washing over his tongue, mouth and chin.
He choked on the last of the paramedic's seed as he felt Johnny's tongue swipe up his hairy ballsac and nest inside his chute. Johnny feasted like a starving man, cleaning him and spreading his cheeks wide with his slim hands to get as much aftertaste as possible.
Jack sat up to fully rest his tight backside on Johnny's ravenous face, no longer caring if Johnny could breathe or do anything but bury his nose inside the hot shithole at his pleasure. Johnny gurgled his happiness enough to convince Jack to stay put.
One big hand wrapped around Johnny's engorged length while three digits of the other hand dug into his twat. As Johnny squirmed further, finding hidden depths in Jack, Jack added a fourth, spearing and spreading as his thumb danced against the fully stretched fuckhole, taunting the lad that he could easily make a full fist...if Johnny was a good boy.
Johnny let out a full, dirty groan inside Jack as Jack's fisting of cock and cunt led Johnny to shake with orgasm, the cries echoing through Jack.
Jack let him finish his violent writhing before he slowly, slowly removed his fingers from the lad, each drenched digit taking a place along the throbbing prick he'd ignored, content to watch it bob until further glory.
He slid down Johnny's body until his rock-rigid prick was lined up to Johnny's face - young and innocent and so so dirty and desperate for nourishment.
"Please Daddy..." Johnny mewled, licking his lips for one last taste of Jack's arse.
Jack lost it at that, giving his new lover a facial, covering his depraved and pure countenance in the life-giving seed Johnny so craved.
Johnny's mouth was open as wide as his hole, happily accepting the nutrients Jack was just as happy to provide.
As Jack finished, he slid two of his thick fingers through the cum before shoving them in Johnny's greedy little mouth.
"Bitch," Jack muttered, admiringly, as he leaned over to snap a photo on Johnny's camera phone. Not of himself - he wasn't that stupid - but of Johnny's cum-covered face, of Johnny looking up at him with bright eyes, a literal picture of debauchery.
"Something to treasure always," he smirked as he somewhat reluctantly left the youngest Carter.
"C-Can we do this again?" Johnny asked through a yawn as he watched Jack's well-maintained arse, damp and well-cleaned, walking away. He'd never even asked how Jack had gotten in or where his clothes were - he didn't give a shit. He only wanted that body, wanted that dick deep inside him to make him complete.
Jack looked back, eyes dead, casually stroking himself before walking out.
"You'll have to earn it."
00000
Lee rubbed his eyes, aware he'd barely gotten a half-night's kip. He hadn't slept well. He wanted to say it was cos Whit had gone to stay with her brother Ryan for a while, but deep down he was happy to have a break from her. She didn't love him - who could ever love him? She felt sorry for him. He was crazy about her, but it was hard being what she needed. Each passing day he knew he wasn't going to be anywhere close.
He knew he had his call centre job in a few hours, the job his family and Whit thought was some exec dream. More like a nightmare. He checked his phone for messages, hoping to hear the place had been shut down. Instead it was...a dick and arse pic from his cunt of a co-worker, "Oz." And one of his six-pack. Furry abs and a surprisingly furry mocha bum too. And Lee guessed around 9 inches of cut, thick meat. He stroked himself, mouth half-open, as he studied the shots - he hated the guy, knew he'd only sent this to wind him up (the text saying "So wifey can see a real man" gave it away), but was he well fit. Rippling muscles, light brown skin, curly hair shaved on the sides. About the same height as Lee, but bulkier. The definition of a hate fuck. They'd nearly gotten in a few scraps and every time after, Lee had gone to the stalls to beat himself off. If Lee's army mates were in town more often they'd have some real fun with him.
He looked down at his ring finger, currently as bare as the rest of him, and remembered how good his shitface mate Beanbag's silver band felt against the underside of his shaft when he jerked Lee off. The night before the wedding had been booze and more booze and a few other substances - Lee had fucked the bride, a bridsemaid, and done some pretty filthy things with Beanbag and their other mate Moose that none of them had talked about the next morning. Beanbag was rough as a badger's arse, Moose was like a pinup - looked like old Ian Beale's son Peter...maybe after a bender. Lee was going to invite them to the wedding. They weren't gonna touch Whitney, he'd make clear of that, but he couldn't say he would keep his hands off them. He'd always been any-hole's-a-goal, but he needed men - their touch and the unspoken understanding - more and more lately.
He had to stretch his legs, take a slash if the piss hardon bobbing between his chunky thighs was telling him right.
After he emptied his bladder, he decided to go for a water, trying not to wake Aunt Babe, an old bat with ears like a bat, or his brother or dad.
His dad was curled up with Jack Branning. The loving son in Lee wanted to call his mum and tell her Dad had cheated on her, gotten nasty in their own bed, but he couldn't. It would crush her, and - he just wanted his dad to be happy too. And something about Jack got to him. He checked out Jack's muscular backside in the dim light, a light coat of hair visible. He'd looked up to Jack - ex-copper, house flipper, devoted husband and dad. Now he just wanted to lick his hairy chest, sit on his smug face.
He kept walking past, seeing Johnny's half-open door. Johnny had been getting pounded by his paramedic fuck buddy, but he was alone now. Lee was about to wonder if the slim blonde had done the customary runner before he literally bumped into him on the way to the kitchen.
"Shit!"
"Sorry!"
Both men blushed when they realized they were naked as each other...deeper blushes when they realized they were both getting off on the sight.
Tom had a leaner build than Lee, but his pecs, stomach and arms were surprisingly well-defined, smooth to Lee's tufts of chest fur. Lee couldn't help briefly glancing down to eye Tom's tackle, along with his runner's thighs. He liked the view. He soon saw that Tom noticed, the blood in his engorged cock contrasting to Tom's longer, thinner penis.
Lee tried to cover up, but he quickly knew both hands weren't going to do the trick. He was humiliated, but the more he got embarrassed, the more pre-cum slipped against his sweaty palms.
He tried to remind himself why he needed to keep it in his trousers - if he was wearing any trousers.
"Are ya - gonna date Johnny?"
Tom looked surprised, then Lee saw his face, as much as he could see in the dim kitchen nightlights, fall. Looked like what he wanted and what he knew he was going to get.
"Johnny's not interested in that right now. He just - "
Lee guessed the rest.
"He just wants cock?"
Tom laughed, his slightly weathered face losing a few years with less tension.
"Yeah. He used bigger words."
Lee's shoulders slumped.
"Always the brains in the family, our Johnny."
Tom had that look Lee hated - pity. Soon he felt Tom's hands on his broad shoulders, setting off mild sparks at the contact.
"I didn't mean it like that."
Lee had to get away. He wasn't going to be a piece of meat, or a pity fuck. He just wanted to go hide in his bed. Maybe have a wank. A few wanks.
"Nobody does."
Tom kept his hands on Lee's chest, seemingly unaware they were slowly drifting toward the tufts of golden blonde hair.
"I really didn't mean -"
Lee took a step back, needing to go before he moved those hands around his throbbing meat where he knew they belonged.
"Nite."
Lee turned to go, unaware that he and Tom were so close that his engorged prick would bump heavy against Tom's own arousal. Lee shot a small wad of cum against the base and smooth, tight ballsac of his brother's fucktoy, Tom grazing pre-cum against his belly in exchange. Tom let out a small groan, soon becoming a louder groan when Lee finished turning and Tom's shaft slapped against his bubble arse.
"Wow," Tom said, unable to stop himself from putting his hands on Lee's smooth, peachy bottom.
Lee got that a lot, especially from blokes. Usually from blokes who thought he was a virgin to cock - like some fantasy come to life. One of the reasons he wasn't a virgin to it was that he knew guys, especially queers, knew how to make a fella feel good. He'd done the usual scale - first just agreeing to a finger, then a tongue, then a dick, eventually cocks as big as his, even bigger sometimes. He liked getting fucked, liked giving up control. But he liked getting worshiped too...and Tom was a proper convert.
"I have to -" Tom whispered, in awe, as he squeezed the sweet cheeks with both full hands.
Lee could've stopped him, but he was too tired - and he wanted this. Wanted someone to appreciate him, not tolerate him or sneer at him.
Tom sank to his knees, pausing before he slowly began to spread Lee's cheeks. He breathed into the crack, sending a shudder through Lee.
"Wow."
"Go on..." Lee gritted, his paw of a hand at the back of Tom's close-cropped blonde hair.
He hated himself for doing this in his family kitchen. He hated himself for doing this with his brother asleep not far away. Most of all, as Tom's callused index finger slowly joined his probing tongue, he hated himself for being so hard he could hammer nails.
He pushed that aside as he felt Tom's tongue burrow further inside him. As Tom's middle finger searched for Lee's prostate, his other hand reached around to grope Lee's belly and coarsely stroke his fat prick. He kept his strokes long and slow to try to stop himself from decorating the ugly wallpaper with his first and definitely not last load. He felt Tom dig in further, so far deep Lee nearly asked if he'd gotten his nose lodged in. A second finger joined, while the other hand brushed up and down the backs of his muscular legs, further down to his feet, finally back up to the back of his balls. Toes to taint, Lee realized, as the gentle tug against his low-hangers made him shoot off another burst of pre-cum on the kitchen floor.
Lee bit down hard on his bottom lip to mask the groans, finally shoving his head in the nearby fridge to moan when Tom's skilled hand began feverishly milking him, all while still eating him out at the same time.
He found a tub of butter and, not wanting to waste a chance to fuck a tight arse like he was sure Tom had, emerged from the cold appliance with a sly grin.
"Get over there," he barked, pointing to the tabletop as he pulled Tom's greedy mouth away from his spit-wet man-cunt.
Tom's eyes went wide when he saw the makeshift lube - even wider when he saw Lee's sausage, swathed in butter, embedded in the tub.
Tom scrambled onto the flat surface, his trim, hairless legs spread wide. Lee groaned again as he watched Tom hook his arms under his legs, exposing his equally hairless chute to Lee's touch.
It was Tom's turn to bite his thin lips as he felt two of Lee's beefy fingers, coated and ready, roughly invading his hole. He clamped down on instinct, not having bottomed in the last few years. He panted against a Carter-engraved placemat when Lee kept digging, a third finger joining the barrage.
Tom gasped when Lee began stretching his fingers further apart to get him ready. As he saw Lee's girth resting against the cool surface, he wondered how he'd gone from fucking Johnny, the twink he'd perved over for ages, to being fucked by Johnny's big-dicked big brother, the stud he never dreamed he'd have. He remembered a few months back when he'd had to come in because their nasty aunt had locked herself in the freezer and he'd seen Mick and Lee in their shorts and pajama bottoms, their cocks obscenely pressed against the thin fabric. He'd wanted to take them both in his mouth right there, straining his green trousers and awkwardly adjusting himself. Only Johnny had noticed...and his sly smirk had stayed in Tom's wank bank ever since.
He moaned loud enough to wake the dead when Lee yanked him up by the ankles, upper back arched against the table as Lee spit into his hole before shoving half his purple-red shaft in in one go.
"UGG..." Tom grunted like a caveman at the crude plowing underway. He hadn't been fucked like this since he was Johnny's age. He was smart enough to know Lee was taking out frustrations on him, especially when he felt Lee, filling him further, clambered onto the table for a closer fuck, and wrapped a hand around his throat. Tom whimpered at the rough touch, because in a job like his - saving lives, just as often failing to save them - he needed the release just as much as he figured Lee did.
As the thrusts proved more forceful, the table still somehow sturdy even with their combined mass, Lee slowly moved his fingers from Tom's throat to the hard penis jabbing at Lee's belly, jerking, peeling the tight foreskin up and down. With the combined sensation of Lee's own foreskin unfurling inside him, Tom's eyes went back in his head, Lee's hand now curled protectively between the back of his head and the edge of the table as he blew his load against the soldier's dirty blonde treasure trail.
He numbly sucked on Lee's sticky fingers, still being guided by the pistoning shaft deep inside him. He didn't try to hurry Lee along, didn't even want to, especially the way Lee was looking down at him, half-possessive, half-amorous.
"Whaddya we have here?" a new voice said, husky.
At first he barely noticed the arrival of the third man, but the presence of a bobbing shaft and a healthy set of pubes near his hungry mouth was enough to get his interest. He tried to take him down his throat, but the man - Jack Branning, some barely cognizant part of his brain not consumed by Lee's dominating dick remembered - just laughed.
"Wait your turn, willya?"
Jack stood behind Lee, gently guiding him into the wooden chair, with Tom somehow still along for the ride. He grunted as Lee sat down and he was impaled full force onto the fully erect phallus.
"Party's just started," Jack promised, before grabbing Tom, then Lee, for a rough kiss. Before staring into the corridor at someone they couldn't see...
00000
Mick was hidden under his bedcovers. He was knackered, but he was more ashamed at how he'd betrayed his wedding vows over and over. It was just with the one person - one sexy, sexy old bill - but one person was still enough. He'd let Linda down. Only reason he wouldn't tell her was because he knew it would break her heart like nothing ever had. That and...as much as he didn't want to admit it, the heavy ache between his meaty, hairy legs told him how much he'd enjoyed it. How much he wanted to do it again and again...
He began, in spite of his shame, or maybe because of it, to stroke himself, long strokes that felt like electric shocks because this was him saying he got off on what he'd done to his wife and his marriage. That he was a louse, and loved it. That everything everyone had seen him as - a big bum and a big dick and nothing upstairs - was right.
He was near the end, full in two hands, when he heard something near his bed. He jumped up, forgetting he was hard until the painful erection shot past his belly. He was looking for a bat...but not the one he was stuck with.
He was soon distracted by the other presence in the room - shapely legs clad in silk white panties. Pale skin and a white teddy, framed on lean yet strong arms. Spaghetti straps so thin in his hands, the memory making him even harder, somehow. He was so tired he couldn't make out the rest. He was sure it couldn't be his L, his wife, the only woman he'd ever love, but he wrapped his hands around the body anyway, long neck there for sucks and bites and tender licks of apology. Taut stomach there to be held, caressed.
"L..." he breathed, curls falling in his eyes. "So so sorry L...loveya..."
He kissed the soft, full lips, a growl in his stomach when she mewled at his forceful yet loving embrace.
"Missed ya..." he said, shy...his hands going lower toward the shimmery waistband.
He turned to stone as he grasped the stick prick obscenely bulging against the soft silk. Silk soft against Mick's callused, angry hand.
Mick squeezed, roughly, getting a cry of pain and pleasure from whoever the hell this was.
He shoved the intruder onto the bed, the moonlight strong enough to reveal Paul Coker, with kiss-red lips and beet-red embarrassed face. Afraid, terrified, red skin against the silk white, and - as Mick soon noticed - even as he was terrified, he kept looking down to Mick's donkey dick, and kept rubbing his own hardness through the panties.
"What's the idea? Want dick that bad you break in, steal my wife's skivvies? How sick are ya?"
Paul began to reply, stammering over the words, but all he could do to respond was to lift his camisole top, exposing his perfect six-pack, heaving from nerves and arousal.
"I just want to make you feel good," Paul finally managed.
Mick's eyes narrowed, furious at the cheek of this filthy lad he barely even knew. He'd seen the Coker boy ogling him, even went into the urinals a few times just to get a peek, whispered in a blushing Ben's ear about what a cunt-splitter the Vic landlord had, how he wore jeans so tight they'd split open and how he'd pour his pints down Mick's hairy arse crack, eat him out, better cooking than Babe had ever managed. He remembered the nights a drunk Paul had even grabbed for his cock, squeezing, feeling his shaft so tight against the denim, groping his arse.
He'd put up with it, because it kept the tills full, and because it flattered him, but this...this was his bedroom, his home, his wife's lingerie.
And he should be furious. He should throw him out, or call the police - not one named Jack Branning. He should get his fists going, teach this perv a proper lesson.
Instead, what came out was low and rough and needy, and surprised them both.
"Turn over."
Paul looked for a moment, almost in disbelief at the command, before he complied.
Mick leered at the utterly perfect bottom, snugly encased in the Christmas white wrapping. He was so strong and yet soft too...marble that was gentle to the touch.
Mick slapped his horse meat against his hairy belly, spit into his hand a few times before he started the customary wank. He leaned onto the bed, saying a silent apology to his cherished wife before he crawled onto the bed, on all fours, his burly body over Paul's leaner frame.
He ran his hands all over Paul's gorgeous, smooth body, bum and biceps, lips and legs, enjoying the fear and need coursing through the intruder.
With one long, suspenseful pause, he made his intentions clear, tearing the arse of the silk underpants in one strong motion, running his rough fingers along the pristine, trembling flesh.
"You wanna be me missus...?" Mick asked, shaking with anger and heat as he began to work two fingers into the nearby hole. "Well you're gonna get a propah poundin'...and you're gonna love every second."