Sitting in the library after having been fucked was not very comfortable, but after a couple of hours, I finished all my homework, except for my elective class, music theory. Save your ice-cream for last. Before starting in, I decided to use the bathroom. Pulling the string and discarding the tampon was gross, and it made me feel like a slut again. It had worked though. The cum flow stopped. I left the padding in my underwear and returned to the library table to study.
My music theory homework was a cakewalk, and I was done in an hour.
To celebrate, I decided to go do my swimming workout. I got to the gym, found a locker and started undressing. I took my shirt off in front of the mirror. I couldn't believe it! My gaze encountered two or three hickies around each of my tits, from Robert sucking on them while fucking me. I looked like a slut! I couldn't be seen like this on the pool deck! I had to skip my swim. I quickly put my shirt back on and left.
My realizations forced a cry. Hickies? Looking like a slut? Legs spread in missionary position? Tampons? The question began sounding in my head again, "Just what sex am I?" I couldn't go back home this early to Robert in the house.
I sought sanctuary in the music practice rooms, a little piano, a little flute. Taking a break in the hall, I saw a notice on the department message board. "The Chicago Symphony Orchestra will be auditioning for flautist. Music majors from this department with an emphasis in flute are encouraged to audition." I had auditioned for things before. Never got anything except for the occasional temporary position in a pit orchestra for some musical or opera. Hell, I wasn't even a "music major from this department." I wanted to be, but I didn't have the balls to drop engineering and risk starving. Auditioning is a waste of time anyway ... but The Chicago Symphony Orchestra? Georg Solti conducting? The auditions were this coming Tuesday. Why not try? You've got to have a dream to move forward.
Eventually I decided to wander home, thinking about the auditions. The possibility of being a professional symphony musician contradicted in my mind the main item on the list of things we don't pay for, "Music? Maybe Justin Timberlake, Justin Bieber, AC/DC, the Backstreet Boys. But Beethoven, lover of the flute as well as the clarinet, oboe, and French horn? We don't pay for that." We only pay for corporate crap, where a marketplace catering to the Roberts and Joes of the world determines what is "good." I couldn't fathom being a musician in this society now. But wait a minute. The CSO takes auditions at universities across the country? They pay for that? This intriguing thought crossed my mind as I reached the porch of our house. I was jarred out of my dream by the blaring sound of the T.V. on in the living room. Shit. How could I forget? Sports. ESPN. We definitely pay for that. Robert and Joe were watching the Saturday college football wrap-up. I tried to come in unnoticed, maybe even reach my room without saying anything.
"Is that Jeff?" Joe asked.
"No, it's Brian coming home from a hard day's work," Robert said, the sarcasm obvious.
"Hey Brian. We missed you at The Bullfrog last night." Joe said.
"You were there?" I asked.
"Yeah, Jeff and I met up with Robert there. It was fun. Your Vicki's hot." Joe said.
"Yeah, Joe fucked her!" Robert said laughing.
"He's full of shit, as always! No, you should be proud is all I'm saying." Joe said.
I reached my bedroom door just in time to ignore the taunts from Robert, "Why proud? He can't get her off, and she's dumping him ...," I went into my room ignoring it as best I could, but tears were forming, "... Shut the fuck up, that's not what she said and you know it." I was momentarily intrigued. What did Vicki really say?
"Mary's the one with nice titties ..." I resumed ignoring it, until the subject changed again.
"Where is Jeff, anyway?" Joe was asking Robert.
"Oh, he's not coming over. He's pissed at me `cause I think he's a faggot."
There was silence as Joe waited for Robert to elaborate, "He got all faggy giving me a blowjob in the can at The Bullfrog last night."
"What the fuck? You had Jeff give you a blowjob in the bathroom at The Bullfrog? When? Where was I?" Joe asked.
"Why, did you want in on it?" Robert said laughing at Joe.
"Shut the fuck up. When?"
"It was after you left. Remember? You agreed to take Paul and Cindy to the train."
"So your squeeze was leaving and you sought relief from Jeff?" Joe asked.
"Squeezes." Robert responded, making sure to remind Joe of his conquest of Paul. Then he started squaring the subject on me, bullseye, "Actually I still had one squeeze waiting at home..."
Joe didn't take the bait, or didn't get it, "You're pathetic. Cindy leaves and you're cornering poor Jeff in the bathroom of a bar. Why did you call him a faggot?"
"I didn't. Like I said, he got all faggy. He started getting into it this time...So I fucked him."
Joe sat in stunned silence; I was back now too, staring into the living room in disbelief from my bedroom door. Robert continued, "Acted like he didn't want it, that I misread him. He won't admit it, but he really enjoyed getting fucked."
"So you raped him?" Joe asked.
"Fuck no! I don't rape anyone. By the time I'm done seducing pansies, they're begging for my cock up their ass." Robert said angrily. Then Robert noticed me, and to make his case, "Just ask Brian."
Joe looked up at me and must have been able to read the shame in my face. He confirmed it with Robert, "So you fucked Brian?"
"Yeah, now ask him if he enjoyed it ... BOTH times!"
Joe looked surprised. I had been fucked twice already? I spared him the uncomfortable question and responded, "If Jeff is like me, he's fighting it on the inside, but was relieved to let it go. Robert's very good at seeing through you, and playing on that, making you admit it...I hate to admit it, but yeah, I enjoyed it."
"Doesn't sound like Jeff was admitting to anything, though." Joe surmised.
"It's all an act. He's just having a harder time admitting it to himself, so he's taking it out on me by acting pissed," Robert countered. He paused, then added, "He'll be thanking me for it soon enough." There was another pause, until he realized he could segue to his master plan, a plan I only later realized he had premeditated, "Just ask butt-boy over here. You're thankful, aren't you Brian?"
What was I suppose to say? "Oh yes Robert, thank you so much for turning my sexual world on its head. For making me realize I'm a bottom boy slut." Instead I gave him silence, agitated if not angry silence. But to Robert that was surrender.
"Why don't you come over here and show Joe and I how thankful you are? I could use a fuck, and I'm sure Joe could as well."
I couldn't tell if Robert was joking. But rather, it was more I couldn't believe he was serious. What was I suppose to do, go over there and start undressing in front of them?
"Leave me out of it." Joe responded.
"Oh, come on Joe. Fuck him."
I was shocked, silent, mouth agape as I began to realize he WAS serious. Robert WAS arranging for me to get fucked by Joe, as if there was only Joe's choice to consider. And where did my decision factor into this barter? What's more, the suggestion was for me to get fucked by both of them, presumably in front of each other! In fact, Robert had made the proposition for himself with Joe as an afterthought, "I could use a fuck, and I'm sure Joe could as well."
But it was Robert's next comment that really threw me.
"It's only sex!"
It's only sex? In your world of domination, conquest, and control, it's only sex? In the normal person's world of passionate love, it's only sex? When that passionate love is all too commonly corrupted by lust in betrayal, it's only sex? And regardless of the motivation, when the act can result in another human life, it's only sex? There's no such thing as "only sex."
Joe gave me a look, even if only briefly, as if he were considering it. Suddenly I felt a jolt of lust I quickly tried to suppress. This lightening bolt hit me now every time I considered that someone might actually be attracted to me, to my ass especially. And if I got any kind of evidence for it--a glance or maybe even a stare--I was charged over the top.
With confused discomfort from my own unexpected lust, my agitated silence turned into defiance, turning around and walking into my room, as if I were insulted.
"You admitted the other night that he had a nice ass when you saw it in undies?" Robert's reminder was an interrogation of Joe, turned up at the end into the implied question, "Why not fuck him?"
"I was only joking," said Joe.
"Oh bullshit, you were drooling!" Robert responded. "Oh fuck off, I was not," from Joe.
Was Joe having to defend himself? Was Robert seducing Joe, not to himself, but to top me? Forcing Joe to admit to desires he didn't want to admit? Can a top seduce a top to top? The mere concept was building my lust, let alone the possibility that it was unfolding. Robert laid off of Joe enough to return the target to me.
"Hey butt-boy, who said you could leave? Get in here and show Joe your nice ass in undies."
Just like this morning, with his call to me, "Hey Brian, get in here. I need a fuck," I found myself complying. I started undressing, starting with my shirt.
"He's got hickies!?" Joe said with disgust in his voice.
"What can I say? I like tits and this slut moans the minute you're on `em!" Robert said.
I felt like a slut. Here I was stripping seductively for Joe, on command by Robert, revealing evidence I was no longer a virgin, rather a nympho who spreads her legs and offers her tits. And now Joe's disgust was taking the possibility of a fuck off the table. That I was an untouchable.
But at the same time, my own lust was building into narcissism. I soon had myself stripped to my underwear, showing Joe the curves of my ass. I could sense Joe's uncomfortable attraction, sending a thrill into my cock, making it hard. But Joe's discomfort trumped any attraction he may have had.
"I can't do this. I'm not gay," Joe said.
"I'm not gay either. It's not gay," Robert responded. Joe didn't answer, didn't have to. They both knew they had had this conversation before, and Joe thought Robert was full of shit.
As if in agreement that I was unfuckable, Robert added, "Why don't you settle for a blowjob. He gives great head. I'll give ya some porn." Robert threw Joe a Hustler, "He's a real cocksucking bitch, just use your imagination."
I couldn't believe it ... sitting on the couch, Joe zipped down, then undid the button on his jeans. I was going to be sucking his cock.
Planting his feet on the floor and shoulders against the back of the couch, he lifted his butt off the sofa to get his jeans and underwear off his ass in one move. With his underwear still between his knees and hips, he grabbed the cuffs of his jeans pulling them off one leg at a time. He removed his shirt before grabbing his underwear, the last obstacle to viewing his cock. He had solid musculature, but was svelt from playing basketball. I was spellbound, enough that I didn't notice Robert approaching me until his hand was on my head pushing me down to my knees, Joe spreading his while still sitting, still with feet planted on the floor, making a stanchion for my cock sucking. Robert continued to guide me into the stanchion.
Another cock. Not even one week had passed and I was about to suck my second cock. I surrendered, wanted at it, but Joe, seeming to take cues from Robert's style, teased me with it, made sure I circuited his thighs, pubic bush, and balls before wiping his cock on my face. A few slaps on my nose and lips and then it was inserted. I was sucking another cock.
Joe's cock wasn't as big, but it was flared differently. It was like a wedge getting wider to the base, but with a thinner, bullet- shaped head. The difference? The cock fit into my throat! When he started thrusting up, the cock was saying, "Open wide and swallow this." I was dizzy with lust when suddenly I felt a tug on my underwear. I was now nude, and my legs were being spread behind me. When I looked back, Robert was lining up his cock. I pulled off Joe's cock to start a protest, "not two at once ...," but Robert's first thrust interrupted it, "...ahh." My groaning was soon silenced as Robert pushed the top of my head, and Joe guided my mouth back onto his cock.
Yet a further descent into pussydom. I was sucking cock while getting fucked up the ass from behind, emasculated by two cocks at once, one entering at each end. Robert's thrust really took off. He never pounded me as hard before, and I was convinced he was showing off to Joe. It was soon confirmed.
"The goal is to move his asshole from the bottom of his butt up to the top of his crack, like this," Robert said.
He thrust hard causing me to wince, "Then when you get on top of it, you can really go to town." Robert straddled my butt, bouncing up and down and driving his cock deep. I was groaning, but my mouth was stuffed with cock. Robert quickly came in my ass, then Joe released into my mouth. I was getting fucked by an electrician and sucking the cock of a drywall installer. I was getting charge up my ass and paste in my mouth.
When both were spent, Robert swatted my ass as if to say, "Thanks bitch. We're all done. You can go now." I gathered my clothes and walked nude into my room, cum dripping down my leg and down my chin. Robert and Joe were dressing nonchalantly as if they were just changing in a locker room. They were soon on the couch, ESPN blaring, while I dealt with cum. Familiar cum up my ass, but some new DNA down my throat and on my face. I lied back on the bed, wiped some of Robert's cum out of my crack and onto my abs, wiped some of Joe's cum off my face and neck and mixed it into Robert's. I soon added my load to the mix.