Disclaimer: Do not continue reading if you are not 18 years old or you are offended by portrayals of male to male sex or the laws in your state or county forbid this type of material.
Copyright 2004 by the author. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Names, characters, locations and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
"Hey Jakey!"
"What the fuck?" I thought to myself. "No one had called me that since High School." I had just paid for my coffee and was sitting down at a table by the window when the voice from the past startled me - almost spilled my latte. I turned. "Phil? Phil Barkley?"
"Yeah, Man. Long time. Shit, you look great."
"So do you," I lied.
"Mind if I join you? Just let me buy a cup of joe. Be right back."
Phil Barkley. We were best buddies back at West High. Went out for football together. We were both into old cars. Even double dated a few times. But when I went away to college and his family moved south, we lost touch.
"So whatcha been doing, Jakey? They probably don't call you Jakey, do they? It's been ten years. Lotta water under the fuckin bridge." Just like Phil. Motormouth. Always asked questions and didn't stop to let you answer. He stopped to take a sip of coffee and I started to fill him in.
"Well, I'm a news photographer. Free lance." I mentioned the major weekly that publishes a lot of my work. Figured, what the fuck, blow my own horn a little. Back in High School, we were always competitive. Who had the fastest car? Who made the most points in football? Who had the longest cock?
"No shit! Good for you. I'm in plumbing myself. Had my own business in Greensborough 'til it went under. Too many damn deadbeat customers. I was hoping to hook up with someone in this neck of the woods and get going again. Know any plumbers, Jakey?"
I shook my head. The only guy I ever called on to work on my pipes was the custodian of my apartment house.
"Gotta find work soon. I got bills up my asshole, what with the car payment, and child support and . . ."
"Whoa, buddy." I had to stop him there. "You got a kid?"
"Yeah, shit. I got myself married to a brainless blonde down in Greensborough. Big boobs, but less sense than a fuckin flea. I told her I didn't want no kids, but I trusted her to use protection. Big mistake. Now I got a little boy. Cute little guy though. A lot like me. He's three now. You can't shut him up."
So here we were, two once-buddies, living in two different worlds. He was an out-of-work, out-of-shape, divorced father. I was a successful, well-traveled closeted gay man with a fairly decent body, if I do say so myself.
I told Phil I had to get to an appointment with my editor. I gave him my card and suggested we get together for lunch some time. I thought about him a lot that afternoon. I remembered the time when we were just starting to pick up girls. He was of course better at it than I. I didn't care about tits and cunt, but I had to play along anyway. One time we had the two Kelly sisters and took them down to the beach about ten at night. We all went skinny dipping. It was a lot of fun but I found myself looking at Phil's naked ass more than the girls. Back on shore, Phil's girl started to fondle his cock and I stared at it rising, taking note how it curved like a fuckin corkscrew. As it rose, my own stirred into action. Her sister took notice and lost no time getting her lips around my cock. It was my first blow job. Phil conceded I won that night.
When I got to my apartment, who the fuck is sitting on the stoop outside. Phil. "Look, Man, I hate to trouble you, but I need a fuckin place to crash a few days. 'Til I get on my feet. End of the week. No longer. I swear. Whadya say? For old times sake. I been living in my car, and it's getting fuckin cold at night. I need a bath something bad."
I was trapped. I couldn't turn him out in the cold. He gave me a football hug, thanked me profusely and I helped carry his bags in.
"Wow, you are doing ok for yourself." Phil looked around my apartment. I admit I have good taste in furniture, and the means to have it. Phil checked out some of the awards and photographs I have framed over my desk. "Hey, in this picture you're standing with Rich Young. Ain't that him, the news anchor?"
"Yeah, we were both in Kuwait, during Operation Storm."
"I hear he's queer. What do you think?"
"Don't know," I lied. Rich and I roomed together throughout the war. He was out of the closet but he respected my wish to keep my sexuality private. When we posed for this picture, he didn't even put his hand on my shoulder. He was very discrete. But back in our hotel room, we were wild. His asshole was hotter than all the desert sand in Kuwait. And could the guy ever rim!! Shit, I was starting to get a hardon just looking at his picture.
"So you got yourself a girl, Jakey?" I shook my head.
"Don't worry, you will. Body like that, you must get plenty of dates. Hell, if you got one tonight, don't let me stop you." Again I shook my head.
I showed Phil the pullout bed in the living room and gave him some towels. He started a long soak in my tub while I began rustling up some dinner for us. I had the table set and the food hot by the time he came waltzing out wearing just a towel. "Oh, Man, that felt good; I sure needed that bath. . . Hell, that smells fuckin great."
"Veal chops with onions and asparagus."
"Wow. I never learned to cook myself. Since my divorce, I usually just pick up a pizza or something. You're ok, Jakey." Phil sat down, and I poured the wine. Throughout dinner, I was looking at his bare chest. The hair was still in ringlets from his bath. He wasn't a hunk, but there was something about this paunchy blue collar guy I found exciting. "I really appreciate you doing this, Buddy. You're a true friend. And no shit, I'll be out of here in a few days. You'll see. And if there's anything I can do for you, just shout. The bath seemed to work ok. And the toilet flushed real good, I noticed. But if there's any plumbing you need done, I don't want you calling anyone else, you hear?" I nodded.
After desert - chocolate mousse, one of my signature dishes -, Phil sat on the couch in the living room, not at all self-conscious that his towel was hardly hiding his equipment. We talked about old times, the other football players, the tricks we played on each other, the Kelly sisters, other girls we knew.
Around midnight, I went to bed explaining I had to be at a news conference at nine the next morning.
When I got up at six, Phil was fast asleep, buck naked on the pull out. I noticed, half smiling, that even limp, his dick curved. I walked past him and got the paper from the hallway. I scanned it quickly while I drank my morning coffee. Then showered and shaved. Then began cooking breakfast. As I figured, the noise in the kitchen woke him up. He took a piss and then grabbed a pair of boxers from his suitcase to put on. I gave him his coffee and he began to join the living.
After a good hot breakfast of eggs, home fries and sausage, I handed Phil the paper and pointed out the classifieds for him. (Hint, hint). I gave him the spare key, grabbed my camera and went out to my appointment. When I dropped back home around two, I was surprised to see Phil's car still there where he left it. In the apartment, there he was, dressed in jeans and a slightly torn t, but barefoot. Some time, he had helped himself to a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter and a six pack. But he obviously hadn't left the house.
"Yeah, I called a bunch of places but they all said they didn't need another plumber right now. Tomorrow, I'll start beating the pavement." I nodded.
"Y, know, Jakey, I was looking over some of your DVDs. Hope y' don't mind." I glanced at the cabinet and sure enough things had been moved. "Anyway, I spotted this one called Campus Voyeur. Sounded like a porn flick so I put it in. Jakey, first thing I see is two fags kissing. Freaked me out, Man. It was a fuckin queer film." And one of my favorites, actually. But I didn't say anything.
"Look, Phil. I'm happy to give you a place to hang out for a while, and I really don't mind sharing my stuff with you, but I hope you are going to work at getting yourself a job."
"Sure thing, Man. End of the week. I told you. I'll be outa here."
I went in to take a shower and I know Phil was wondering about me. I didn't explain the DVD and I knew he was starting to ask himself questions.
Again, Phil bathed while I got supper ready. Except this time, after drying off, he put his clothes back on. Apparently he was no longer at ease letting his schlong flop around in front of me. He said he was going to go out. "I think I'll find me a bar. Wanta go with me? Maybe get ourselves a couple hookers?" I knew he was testing me. I shook my head and Phil left.
I settled down with a Sherry and tried to find something somewhat distracting on TV. I wondered why none of the programs seemed familiar. "What do I usually watch on Thursday night," I wondered. "Oh, Hell." I remembered that Timmy always came over on Thursdays. I hadn't lit the candles or set up the stereo or anything. Too late. The doorbell rang.
"Hey, Jake. What's the matter? You weren't expecting me?"
"It's a long story. I'm sorry I'm not ready."
"No problem. Want to skip tonight, my friend?"
"No way. Tonight especially I need my boy toy. I need a good long knockdown fuck."
"Hey, wow. Then let's get it on!!" Timmy ripped off his shirt and grabbed my crotch. My cock was already swelling. "To what do I owe this enhanced display of horniness?"
I quickly told him about my unexpected house guest but assured him we'd be alone this evening. I threw some soft music on the stereo and quickly lit a few candles. I poured us some wine while Timmy took off all his clothes and then helped me out of mine. I sat on the bed with my legs spread wide while he did his usual little dance. Fuck, the kid had a body to kill for. On weekends he danced at a gay club and usually ended the night with his socks and jock stuffed with bills. During the day, he worked as a masseuse at a gym. I think he only did massages, but I'm not sure. He'd been coming to me every Thursday for months now. And he was well worth his price.
He always did his dance routine for me. Unlike at the club, here he could dance full monty. As the music gyrated on, he worked his way over to the bed. He knelt on the bed, looked down on me, and continued the choreography as he began rubbing my chest and abs. Without missing a beat, he took my cock and stroked it in rhythm. Soon enough, my cock disappeared into his mouth and the night was at full speed. He deep throated me, we sixtynined. I rimmed his sweet boyish pink asshole. He moaned and wiggled and made me feel special. By the time my cock was impaling his boyhole, I was totally unaware of anything else. There was no noise, no problems, no Phil. There was nothing else in the world except my Timmy.
But of course, that wasn't actually the case. There was a Phil. And in fact he was right there watching us. When I realized he had come home, there was nothing I could do. I was in the middle of fucking my boy whore and there was no denying it.
"So, I see." For once, Phil had very little to say.
I pulled out my cock and looked at Phil. "Well, now you know."
"Yep, I sure do."
Timmy jumped up and ran his naked little body over to Phil, his boned cock leading the way. "Hi, I'm Timmy. C'mon and join us." Timmy started tugging at Phil's shirt.
"No way, you little whore. I'm straight."
"Straight, like this?" Timmy pointed to his cock which was indeed as straight as an arrow.
"Nah," I smiled. "Phil's bends up and to the right." Phil turned red. But something did begin to stir in his pants.
"Damn right it curves!" Phil said proudly. "When I screw a cunt, she really is screwed!"
"No fuckin shit," said Timmy. "This I gotta see." And he began unbuckling Phil's belt and opening his fly. Phil apparently had had a few beers, not enough to make him drunk, but just enough to lower his resistance. He allowed Timmy to pull down his pants and admire his twisted manhood. "Hey, Man. I gotta get a taste of that!" Before Phil could do anything to stop him, Timmy was on his knees trying to swallow the corkscrew sausage.
"Hey, you know, whore boy, you give a better blow job than my wife ever did."
Timmy gave a muffled, "I know."
"Oh, Hell, that's making me excited. My balls are going to explode in a minute. Wish there was a cunt around here. I'm gonna need me a fine piece of ass."
Timmy let go of his mouthful. "Be my guest." He whipped around and pointed his bare ass at the human screw. "Go on. Fuck me. No charge. It's on the House." He pushed back urging Phil to plow in. "I'll talk like a girl if it makes you feel better," he said in a silly sultry voice. "I just gotta see what that thing feels like in my ass."
From my seat on the bed, I threw Phil a condom and a tube of lube. "Damn you, Jakey." He ripped open the condom, rolled it on, and applied mountains of lube to his cock and Timmy's asshole. "I ain't no faggot, Man. I tell you that. I just gotta release all this spunk. Far as I'm concerned this here whore boy is a cunt! You hear me?"
"Whatever you say, Phil." I smiled and walked over to the dresser behind him.
Phil plunged in and began plowing away at Timmy's ass. Timmy's excited noises were no put-on. He'd had all kinds of mantools shoved up his hole but I could tell this one was indeed unique. Phil's cock was reaching places inside him that had never been touched before. Meanwhile, Phil was in oblivion. He probably thought he actually was fucking a girl. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing. He shut his eyes in ecstasy. So he had no idea what I was doing. Until he opened them again.
"What the hell are you doing, Jakey?"
"Documenting this moment for posterity." I kept right on snapping pictures.
"Stop that, you bloody bastard. I ain't no faggot. Gimme that camera." He reached over but he couldn't move. His cock was stuck inside Timmy like a dog gets in heat. I kept snapping.
"What the fuck you doing that for?"
"I just thought I might want a little insurance, Phil, in case you thought about outing me before I was ready." I opened the camera and took out the roll and went over to my wall safe and locked it inside as Phil helplessly watched.
By then Phil had filled his rubber and was ready to pull out. Timmy gave his report. "Man, Jake, I hate to say this, since you're the Boss and all, but you got some stiff competition there. That guy can fuck!"
"Hell, I'm just getting started. Gimme another rubber, Jakey, I wanta fuck your Whore Boy again."
I gave him the condom, but said, "Not this time, Jakey. This time you put that augur in my hole!"
"No Man, you're my buddy."
"Fuck me, Phil, or you're sleeping in your car tonight." I bent over the end of the bed.
"But . . ."
"Fuck me."
"You need a little fluffing, Phil old Boy," asked Timmy who was on his knees ready to renew his sucking. Phil probably didn't know what the hell fluffing meant, but he did fuck Timmy's face a little while he opened the second condom. Then, in no time, he was pushing that spiral monster up my ass.
Timmy was right. I had never been fucked by such a tool in all my ten years of homo sex. Phil was literally drilling me. I think his first fuck was just a warmup for it seemed like he was fucking me longer and harder than before. Phil kept on pushing and plowing. I didn't care that he kept mumbling, "Take that you bitch, you cocksucking fag!" I was loving every thrust. Timmy couldn't just stand by and watch. He had to do something. So he got on the bed and began to fuck my face. I was getting drilled at both ends.
Suddenly, Phil let out a shriek and I felt the condom filling inside my ass. Timmy pulled out and sprayed my face with his cum. I drenched the bedcover with mine. Then all three of us collapsed in a heap on the top of it. I reached over and planted a long wet kiss on Phil's lips, - a kiss that smeared Timmy's jizz from my face on to Phil's. Phil may have thought of himself as a good old straight boy, but I knew he thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
"Look, Phil, I gotta talk to you about the rent." That took both of them by surprise.
"What the fuck?! I told you I'm outa here by the end of the week. Why don't you believe me?"
"You ain't going nowhere, Phil. I mean it. You're going to stay right here in my apartment as long as I say. I'll tell you when you can go and no sooner."
"What the . . ."
"Shut up and listen. For rent you gotta fuck my face and then fuck my ass with that iron screw of yours every morning and again every night. You got that? No arguments, or I send the pictures of you and Timmy to the Kelly Sisters."
Phil smiled. "You mean it, Jakey? I can stay here as long as I screw you? Jakey, I love you!" This time he actually kissed me.
"Oh, one more thing, Phil. No more Jakey! You call me Jake or the deal is off." I smiled. Timmy smiled. Phil laughed.
As time went by, Phil left the pullout folded up in the living room and started sleeping in my bed. I told him it would be less wear and tear on the convertible, and anyway, it was a more convenient way for him to keep up with his rent.
Timmy found out that the gym where he worked was installing new sinks in all the massage rooms and planning on adding a sauna. They needed a plumber, and after Timmy put in a good word, Phil got the job.
I often had assignments that took me overseas or at least out of town, and I told Phil he could have girls over then, as long as they didn't come when I was home. It was actually kind of kinky imagining a pair of tits splayed on my own bed, as Phil's giant augur invaded some cunt.
Timmy still came over every Thursday and Phil added something extra to the pay I gave him. After all, Phil reasoned, Timmy was doing twice the work now with both of us, plus Phil owed him for his job at the gym. When I was out of town, Timmy still came over and I have a feeling Phil had a girl there too sometimes. Like I said kinky. But I didn't care. I was getting the best screwing of my life twice a day!!