See the previous chapters for disclaimers.
0
Bad boy Aaron Livesy and big-hearted Adam Barton seemed to have little in common besides age, but after some early tension due to Aaron's clashes with the Barton patriarch John, they'd become best friends. So much so that even Adam leaving for a day to check out a cattle show caused some melancholy between them.
"Cheer up, mate," Adam smiled, his usual wide grin matched by his laughing brown eyes. "Be back soon, I promise."
Aaron, snapping on his gum as a way to relieve nervous tension, tried to look happy. He tried to think of anything other than the full, lush mouth on his close pal, and how much he wanted to kiss him and touch him.
"Get over yourself," Aaron snapped. "I'm frowning cos I know you're coming back. Was hoping I'd get to keep your quad-bike."
Adam laughed again and thumped Aaron's chest, sending the unprepared young man flying to the ground. He landed squarely on his bottom. He sneered at Adam, who was nearly doubled over from mirth.
"C'mon, mate, see the funny side," he taunted before extending his hand to help the dour Dingle up.
Aaron was tempted to yank Adam down with him, but when he clasped Adam's hand, contact with the soft flesh jolted most of his thoughts away. He stared up at Adam, slack-jawed.
Adam's own amused expression had faded away, replaced by confusion, unease.
Aaron pulled himself up, then, not wanting to look Adam in the eye, began to walk away.
"Safe trip mate," he muttered, not looking back, not noticing Adam's puppy dog eyes following him the whole way.
00
Aaron was just walking back to the house he shared with his mum's ex-boyfriend Paddy, when her current boyfriend, Aaron's sworn enemy Carl King, passed by.
"Give Barton a big kiss, did ya?" Carl smirked.
"Fuck off!!" Aaron spat, literally, in Carl's direction.
Carl put his hand to his heart. "I'm not taking the mick. I'm glad you've found a good influence. I see the way you look at him. Practically draw hearts by his name."
"You'd know all about that," Aaron sneered.
As Aaron became angry, he had a difficult time not fixing his gaze on Carl's crotch. Carl liked to wear jeans just tight enough to give the interested onlooker a prime viewing of his big bulge and meaty arse.
"Would I? Maybe you should ask somebody else. Cain loves to keep it in the family."
Aaron, his eyes slits, laughed joylessly.
"Funny, I heard that 'bout the Kings. Maybe we should ask the brother you haven't killed yet."
With that jab, Carl lunged at the smug punk, with Aaron toppling to the ground for the second time that day.
Aaron could barely remember most of what happened, other than rolling around, screaming, cursing, and finally, Chas and Paddy pulling them apart and demanding they attend a dinner together that night, to try to work out their loathing of each other.
All Aaron could remember was the hard dick leaking in his jeans, and before they'd pulled Carl off of him, the equally hard monster burrowing into his thigh.
00
Aaron looked at himself in the mirror, wearing a blue button down dress shirt and black slacks. He looked like a younger Paddy, which made sense, as Paddy had bought this boring garb for him in case he needed an outfit for one of the many village weddings, christenings, or funerals he was probably never going to be invited to.
He ran his hand down his close-cropped brown hair, freshly washed. He'd masturbated in the shower, wanking himself at images of Adam and Carl and other studs like Ryan Lamb, who was trapped with him in the garage day in and day out, and who filled out his jumsuit like few others. By the time his second load had run down his thighs, the water had begun to chill.
Aaron massaged his cock through his trousers and boxers, beginning to grow hard again. He was interrupted by a pounding on the door.
He tried to ignore his gobby mum and her sullen excuse for a boyfriend, but Paddy's wittering on about the local cows and their milking cycles wasn't much better. He scowled through dinner.
As the tense, empty conversations went on, Aaron looked down at his lap. He casually glanced at Carl's lap. Carl was wearing tight khakis, and it was crudely apparent he hadn't bothered with underwear. He dressed to the right.
"So Nicola took our haulage truck out cos her car was stalled. It was like something out of those crash video games. She almost ran into..."
Aaron could not listen to Carl droning on any longer. Before he knew quite what he was doing, he put his hand in Carl's lap, slowly starting to tame the trouser snake hissing in his direction. Just through the fabric, he could immediately feel the foreskin between his fingers.
Carl swallowed hard. Before Chas or Paddy could notice the interruption, he pressed on.
Aaron smirked, running his thumb over the khakied cockhead.
"Then...Nicola ran out of petrol...and she tried to beg some off another driver. She'd left her purse on the way out the front door. She..."
He had to fight back a moan as Aaron slowly lowered his zipper and pulled his thick shaft out into the open air. Aaron's hand was surprisingly soft, and warm, and barely fit around Carl's cock.
"Driver ddddidn't speak English...she did know his language...so she thought...turns out she was insulting his mum....oh fuckkk...I hate you so much...little shit..."
Paddy chortled, banging on the table, his three glasses of wine making him easily amused. Chas, who'd had four, was the same.
"That sounds just like Nicola...stupid cow! Don't tell her I said that. Never mind, do tell her. I'm not afraid of her. Alright, maybe a little."
Carl was too busy sweating and gasping for breaths to pay attention to anything surrounding him. Aaron, looking like the picture of innocence, had an iron grip on his penis, middle finger tracing up and down the veiny shaft as his skilled thumbnail tormented Carl's sensitive pink crown. Every time Carl tried to get his hand away, Aaron would use his other hand to squeeze Carl's low-hangers, finally pulling the egg-shaped bollocks out of Carl's trousers entirely.
Carl refused to beg Aaron to stop. He knew that's what Aaron was waiting for. A sign of weakness. Carl was never going to be a weak man. Ever.
"So what happened then, Carl?" Aaron asked, in all seriousness, or so it seemed to tispy Chas and Pad.
Carl cursed under his breath. He initially refused to answer, but then he realised all eyes were on him, even as the hands were kneading his nuts and slowly, painfully milking him.
"Well...she...he...they...I..."
He breathed a sigh of relief as Aaron's hand left his balls. He was too distracted, with more details of his story and waging the battle against ejaculation, to notice Aaron dipping his finger into some butter Paddy had left on the table.
Carl only noticed when he felt a determined digit beginning to burrow in the back of his slacks and up his bumhole. He was so humiliated, and angry, and...
"I'm coming...I...I..."
He let out a whimper, biting his lip raw, as what seemed to him like an endless stream of semen flew from his red rod, volley after volley, all controlled by Aaron's five fingers.
Carl never thought he was going to come down. When he did, he crashed to rock bottom. He opened his eyes, expecting to see shocked faces, but instead, Paddy and Chas were both in the living room, dancing to some stupid pop song, too bladdered to notice him.
He looked over at Aaron's smug face, felt Aaron's hand finally, abruptly pull away from his manhood.
"I'm going to get you for this," Carl mouthed to Aaron.
Aaron said nothing. He put Carl's large, beefy hand on his own crotch, the palm sticking with the load Aaron had produced as he'd seen Carl surrender to orgasm.
"I'm looking forward to it," Aaron's eyes said.
And, as much as he would never admit it, so was Carl.