Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Days Of Our Lives. They are all trademark and property of Corday Productions, Inc. and NBC Daytime. Furthermore, I do not declare the sexuality of the characters I choose to write for, nor the actors or actresses that portray them. I am in no way affiliated with the Days Of Our Lives cast or crew, past or present, and more than likely, future.
Max Brady, the hottest rising star of NASCAR, was now lying on a cot in Jack and Jennifer Devereaux's apartment above the garage of their humble home. The position was a seductive one to many: on his back, one leg completely flat and hanging off the bed slightly, the other, knee-bent and leg arched at the bent, slightly, his hands behind his head, putting his impressive triceps on display. He wore a black, one-size-too-small t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans that just wouldn't quit around his package and his ass, but weren't tight at the legs or ankles. His eyes were closed and he looked like an angel. Looks can be deceiving.
For the past month, he'd been trying to get into Chelsea Benson's pants. He didn't get it. In the past he'd never had to try so hard to get a girl on her knees, sucking his seven-inch dong and eating his cum and submitting to his ever need in every way. This girl was a virgin. That wasn't exactly a first for Max. He'd popped plenty of cherry. She said she was saving herself for the man of her dreams. What a laugh! He felt for the poor kid. She was young and so very naïve. Maybe he just needed to push a little harder. He licked his lips, opened his eyes and hurled himself off of the bed.
Chelsea was living with her friend, Billie Reed, and that asshole, Patrick Lockhart. What was it with that guy? He was acting like Chelsea's big, strong, chivalrous hero. Was he being naughty, wanting Chelsea's hot bod all for himself, or something? Chivalry was dead a long time ago, Max thought to himself. Deciding to go over to Chelsea's new digs to see if he couldn't convince her to at least give him another blowjob, which she wasn't untalented at, he remembered with a grin, if not more. Max Brady got what he wanted and he was a self-proclaimed sex addict, so that's almost always what he wanted. He was more than the average lady killer, too. He'd had a few mates blow him a good one and he'd fucked a man hole from time to time. Men sure knew what they were doing more than girls, but that was to be expected. It didn't occur to him that he might be bi.
Ringing the doorbell, there was answer. He checked the door and smirked, "Well, well, well. Someone's too trusting," he thought, walking inside, as the door had not been locked. Upstairs, in the distance, he could hear the shower. Someone was home. He wondered if it wasn't Chelsea. Billie's car was gone from the driveway and Patrick didn't have one, so he just assumed they were out.
Chelsea must be soaping up those beauties nicely, he thought, tiptoeing up the stairs. The bathroom the shower could be heard from was connected to Chelsea's room (and Patrick's which Max failed to realize in his rampantly horny state).
His fingers wrapped around the knob and with one swift move, he was inside. The steam was like nothing else and the tent in his pants was incredible. There was no way Chelsea would say no to him naked and wet, he thought. He began to strip, noticing that there were no clothes on the floor, already. She must have stripped in her room. Lifting the black shirt up over his head, his pecs flexed up and he tossed it on the floor. Dropping his bangs, his belt made a little jingle and he froze. The water didn't stop and the shower's occupant didn't seem to notice. Kicking them aside, silently, he was left in a pair of tight, gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs and
man did they give him a nice tent. Once they were removed, he rubbed his hands together, prepared to jump in. Before he did, he locked the bathroom door from both ends, so they wouldn't have any interruptions. With a smirk, he hopped in, barely able to see in all the steam. He came up behind Patrick, thinking it was Chelsea and placed his hands on his shoulders, prepared to whisper seductively into her ear. The shoulders were muscular and manly and Max froze.
"Who the hell is in my shower?" Patrick called out to no answer. Max pulled away, backing into a corner as Patrick locked the shower doors. Patrick turned unable to see in the steam. His monster cock had reacted to the soft touch to his shoulders and it hindered Patrick's search. There was a game of cat and mouse between them, as Max kept moving around the small shower and Patrick just missed him. As Max reached the lock and began fiddling with it, Patrick saw who it was, from behind and got down on his knees. Max's sweet, smooth ass cheeks were right in front of his faces and his eyes shifted as he eyed them hungrily. "You know, boy," Patrick talked down to Max, grabbing Max by the hips and drawing the sweet ass to his mouth. His tongue flickered out between his lips and began to slip between Max's ass cheeks. Every muscle in Max's body became tense as Patrick teased his bud, "It's not polite to invade another man's bathroom. There's nothing a man likes better than his privacy, except one thing,"
Max trembled as, soon as Patrick finished speaking, he continued his tongue-tease of Max's ass. As he spoke, he stuttered, "Wha- what-," He couldn't even get the question past his lips, as Patrick buried his face into Max's ass fully. The young twink called out in shock as Patrick rimmed his ass with his muscular tongue. He closed his eyes, his mouth agape as ecstasy took over his body. His ass began to hump back toward Patrick's face as the studly Lockhart ate him out. Max's dick throbbed as Patrick's tongue continually hit his g spot and he began to feel an orgasm come. Just as he was about to explode, Patrick's tongue left his cheeks and he stood, his dong grazing against Max's ass, "I think you know what I want, bitch boy," He whispered.
Patrick turned Max around, "And I don't think you want to unlock that door anymore. Do you?" He wrapped his fingers around Max's hard member and gave it a few strokes, "I'll take this as a yes," His hand left Max's cock and landed on Max's shoulder, shoving him down onto his knees and slapping his cock over Max's face, `You're gonna learn a lesson today, Max, and you're going to remember it," Before Max could speak, his mouth had to open and Patrick shoved his cock down Max's throat. Max nearly choked, but then his throat relaxed as Patrick didn't move his cock, "Suck your lolly," Patrick teased between bared teeth.
Max began to massage Patrick's balls with his fingers while he sucked the long, Lockhart dong. He'd never had anything like it. It was addicting in a way he couldn't explain. His other hand felt up Patrick's firm buttocks and, feeling daring, he even slipped a digit past the cheeks. Patrick grinned, bucking his hips in a fucking motion so his cock slipped in and out of Max's mouth, "Look who's a real cock slut, after all. You're a natural. Think you can take my load down that talented throat of yours?" Max's eyes went wide in protest, but he couldn't stop sucking Patrick's sexy cock. Patrick threw his head back as the water cascaded against his face and down his chest and his orgasm hit filling Max's reluctant mouth. His dick was so lodged in Max's throat that them cum had nowhere to go but down his throat and he barely got the chance to enjoy Patrick's taste. Patrick's cock grew limp and slipped out of Max's mouth. Max held it in his hand and gave it two finally strokes his mouth agape and obviously wanting more.
"Okay, Max, you got what you wanted. You got laid. Why don't you go on home and think twice about seducing Chelsea?" Patrick barked, turning off the water and exiting the shower. Max was on his hands and knees and wanted more. He got up and scurried after Patrick, his cock still hard, "Where do you get off saying I got what I wanted? As far as I can tell, my cock is still begging for a hot ass or mouth,"
"What, no pussy?" Patrick challenged, "I never coined you a closet case, Mr. NASCAR. You want your cock to have some relief? Why don't you depend on your right hand for now and maybe we'll see what happens?"
"I'm not leaving until I get off...," Max trailed off and Patrick smirked, "Who said anything about you leaving?" Max looked at him strangely and Patrick unlocked the door to his room, while Max gathered his clothes, "No, no, no. Leave those here. You don't need them," Max followed Patrick curiously, watching his ass cheeks rise and fall as Lockhart walked into his bedroom. Max shoved him onto the bed, taking Patrick by surprise. Patrick wasn't easily dominated. As Max began to straddle his ass, he turned the tables, doing just what Max had planned to do to him and given Max's left ass cheek a hearty slap. Max cried out and Patrick grinned mischievously. He pinned him to the bed and whispered into his ear in malicious seduction, "You're going to lie on this bed and stroke your magnificent cock for me and then you're going clean up all of your boy juice after you shoot all over your twink chest and my bed sheets,"