I
Beats of metal blared throughout the flashing surroundings.
"You can come to my apartment," Claire said seductively.
Jason could scarcely believe his ears. How could his luck have turned--especially after weeks of attending the same college sophomore class and somehow, being unable to hook up with this beauty? He smiled, suffusing his cheek dimples. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," Claire assured. Slowly, she swiveled toward the bar counter, took her goblet, and sipped from the dewy glass.
Eyeing the girl, Jason ahed like a camel begging for cold water under the noontime sun of the Sahara.
Claire set down her half-empty glass of burgundy wine, turned to Jason, and said, "I am all yours." She grinned girlishly. "There is, however, one catch."
"Anything," Jason said breathlessly.
Claire ran her ballerina fingers through Jason's short, wheat-brown hair, which fountained back from the top of his diamond-shaped face. "I'll tell you in my car."
"You're driving?"
"You got a problem with that?" she said, taking his hand.
"Nuh-uh," he muttered.
She jested him away from the counter, and he nearly spilled his beer.
Never had the yellow coupe with the black top glistened as intensely as that night--not even on that sunny afternoon when Jason followed Claire from sociology class to the student-union parking lot. The closer they got to the car, the faster Jason's heart raced. The butterfly-shaped passenger doors hummed up, and Claire crossed to the driver's side.
Jason inhaled a gulpful of autumn air. He puffed tensely and crouched onto his black, leather seat.
The doors hemmed down, and an ear-ringing silence permeated the inside of the vehicle. While the pub had reeked of beer and sweat, the inside of the coupe emanated a scent of mint leather, sprayed carpets, and fresh plastic.
The olfactory flavors brought Jason the image of a triangular, yellow tent. That tent his father had given him for his thirteenth birthday. Now, Jason was excited by the promise of a different kind of present.
The guy stared deeply into the chick's orbs.
Claire's hazel eyes sparkled like diamonds in a dark cave.
Maybe it was Claire's childlike innocence that drove Jason bonkers. Or perhaps, it was the fact that Claire didn't look slutty like so many girls on campus. Never had Jason seen a chick whose hair streamed so gracefully over her shoulders. As if that weren't enough, Claire's ash-brown locks glittered like the moonlit canvass of a covered wagon.
Let's fuck right here! Jason crackled with his eyes.
Claire led Jason's hand toward a tit.
Wow! Jason said, goggle-eyed. The sophomore was sure that he had the perfect babe beside him--a girl virginally celestial and yet, earthly human. Parched with lust, he descended onto her mouth.
Claire sucked back thirstily.
Jason shut his eyes and tried to focus on the salty-sweet taste of her lips.
The strawberryish aroma of Claire's hair, however, tickled Jason's nostrils like a mouthful of fizzing soda. Moreover, the fruity molecules blended with the cornstalk scent of Claire's face. The intoxicating particles flitted down Jason's throat and pricked the skin of his stomach.
Jason lost his concentration. Famished like a nut-cracking squirrel, he sucked the chick's lips harder, groped her squishy casabas, and bent his knees toward her bare navel.
Claire raised the curtain of Jason's abdominal stage to the audience of her fingers. Like the feathers of a parrot, the Henley tickled the skin around Jason's abs.
Jason tensed his closed eyelids and moaned with the urgency of a wanting-to-pee adolescent.
Her hands steamed bars of soap, Claire caressed Jason's lean flanks.
Jason hummed long and hard into Claire's mouth.
Suddenly, the girl pulled back!
Jason opened his eyes.
"There's someone I want you to meet," Claire said. She glanced toward the rumble seat behind them.
Jason flashed his eyes back. "Whoa!" he said, unpasting his hands from Claire's strap blouse.
"This is Wesley," Claire continued, eye-fingering the shorthaired blond in shiny, blue boxers.
Jason leered at him. "You're that dude from sociology class."
The blond nodded eagerly, and his glittering eyes radiated an angelic beauty.
"Nice to meet you," Jason said, frowning suspiciously.
"I'm glad you finally met," Wesley said with the purity of a boy. "... outside the classroom."
"Jason and I got really acquainted at that bar," Claire said. She nose-pointed toward the canopied entrance.
Like after a breaking wave, silence washed over every cubic space of their surroundings.
The stillness drove Jason mad with irritation. Shattering the quiet like a crashing brick, he said, "Is he gonna join us?"
"What would make you say that?" Claire intoned, waxing innocent.
"Come on," Jason said, shifting his eyes toward her. "He's waiting for us here."
"Calm down," Claire said. Gently, she took Jason's hand and placed it on the border between her flower-printed miniskirt and her mildly tanned leg. "You will get to fuck me. But I love Wesley. Whatever he yearns for, I take into consideration."
"What are you saying?" Jason railed, moving his model's hand away from Claire's leg.
"Before you fuck me, you must let him suck you."
Jason puffed a laugh. "You gotta be kidding me."
Claire shook her head seriously.
"What is the world coming to?" he protested.
"Wesley's the one who'll be on his knees."
"And why would you want to do that?" Jason said, turning abruptly to the blond.
"Because dudes are awesome," Wesley squibbed.
The potpourri of outside lights rendered the fairy's eyes with a silver glow in the dark.
Scowling in befuddlement, Jason glanced over Wesley's firm, pink-under-moonlight legs. "You queers are really twisted," he said peevishly.
"How so?" Wesley said.
"Look at you!" Jason yipped. "Your legs, for instance, muscular like a star athlete's. How the hell are straight guys supposed to tell you apart?"
"Ain't that grand?" Claire said excitedly.
"For you, maybe!" Jason said. "But what about people like me? We're the ones mixing with his kind without even knowing it--heck, even becoming buddies with them!"
"He's willing to suck you dry," she said emotionally. "Then, you get to fuck me. What more do you want?"
Why did things too-good-to-be-true always have to backfire? "I thought I
had problems in my hometown," Jason groaned. "But you people from Vancouver are truly something else." He gritted his teeth with the tension of pliers turning the screw of a bicycle.
Silence rippled through the inside of the coupe like the spaces between the final notes of a loud-and-abusive funk song.
"Fine!" Jason gruffed, settling back on his seat. "Let's drive to your apartment."
"Fine!" Claire said. She placed her palm on the ignition scanner.
"But don't try to pull any funny stuff!" Jason brayed, jolting out of his seat like jack-in-the-box and pointing wrathfully at the blond.
II
The young men stood side by side, with 5' 8", 170-pound Jason and about 5' 10", 180-pound Wesley eyeing Claire.
A wily grin tiptoed across the girl's face. Starting at the bottom, she teasingly unbuttoned her white blouse.
Jason ahed with a scorched-dry throat. Wesley mmmed as if Claire were a lump of melting chocolate fresh out of the oven.
Claire bared her brassier of pearl-white.
The sight of butterflies on silk pleased and calmed Jason, as did the mildly flowery aroma of the living room. He nodded as though to a catchy tune. "Take `em off."
Claire rotated aside like an ice skater in slow motion. She twisted her fingers around the back of her brassier. "Ooohh!" she crooned in high pitch, turning back front.
Her plump, tawny tits drew a rushing sigh from Jason's lungs, and he reached out to knead the ripe cantaloupes.
"Nuh-uh," Claire said, restraining Jason's hand. "First, you have to lend him your cock."
Pensively, Jason dropped his eyes toward the kinky-as-an-Afro rug of beige--a rug so new that it left shiny, golden hairs on the hems of his corduroys. "Am I supposed to do it here?"
"Don't you like variety?" Claire said.
"Yeah, but--"
"Then, get on with it." Down and to Jason's left, she plunked on a blue-skies-with-white-clouds bean sofa.
"How long must I--"
"Until you cum," Claire said offhandedly.
"How am I supposed to fuck you after?" Jason erupted.
"You're a virile, straight fellow, aren't you?" she said, getting comfortable by a pillow.
"Yeah, but--"
"Then, what's your problem?"
"Just tell me one thing," Jason said. "What do you get out of this?"
"Pleasure from watching Wesley in ecstasy."
Jason frowned in confusion.
Excited like a kid in a candy store, Wesley peeled off his yellow soccer shirt. He began to remove Jason's beige Henley.
"Whoa!" Jason said, spinning right. "She never mentioned anything about us touching."
"So?" Wesley said and resumed pulling up the shirt.
"Cool it!" Jason boomed out, grabbing Wesley's forearms.
Wesley inched back coyly.
Jason huffed as if catching his breath after falling down an elevator shaft. With the petulance of an athlete, he pulled off his shirt.
Wesley swiftly undid Jason's corduroys, dropped to his knees, and shucked down Jason's pants and white briefs.
Jason neighed as Wesley swallowed his drooping banana.
His lips moving back and forth, Wesley snatched Jason's hands and threw them on top of his head.
Jason tightened his fingers on the wheat shafts of maize and camel.
In Wesley's mouth, Jason's wiener felt like the pulp of a plum inside a toaster oven set to warm.
Jason squinted his eyes in pain. "Fuck!"
Wesley cuffed Jason's hamstrings.
A sonic boom reverberated throughout the brightly lit room.
Wesley kneaded the smooth slices of gingerbread, pulled his fuck hole away, and quickly licked around the foreskin.
Jason yanked Wesley's forward-flowing rapids of hair toward him.
Wesley scarfed down the dick, and he tightened his lips around it like a pair of hands trying to pin shut the innards of a turkey overflowing with stuffing.
"Jesus Christ!" Jason said. He began to thrust into Wesley's heart-shaped face.
"Mmm-hmm," Wesley intoned.
Jason's eyelashes grew heavy.
Suddenly, Wesley pulled back.
Jason shook open his eyelids. "What the hell?"
Wesley salivated at Jason's testicles like a foaming dog. He swooped toward the nuts and sucked them.
"Fuckin' A!" Jason bellowed, throwing his head toward the dark kitchen in back of him.
Wesley moaned in a high, guttural hum.
The testes vibrated like bells in Wesley's mouth.
Jason groaned like a pig in heat.
Wesley fluttered his stuffed tongue across the sack.
"Fucking queer!" Jason snarled, clawing the bangs that streamed with gaps over Wesley's forehead.
Again, the kneeling horndog pulled away.
Jason rolled his quaking head down. What the fuck are you doing?
That which no girl has done to you, Wesley fluted with his liquid, pearl eyes.
A drop of precum fell onto Wesley's upper lip.
"Lick it, sissy," Jason said. "Because more of that will be oozing into your mouth."
Like an obedient lad, Wesley swiped his tongue over the droplet.
"Now, suck my dick," Jason growled.
The blond took the lollypop into his mouth.
"That's it," Jason said. He closed his eyes.
Wesley sucked with the sprightliness of a Dachshund.
How, Jason wondered, could a guy give better head than a girl? Heck, he felt his entire groin convulse to the fruit's mouth motions. The experience was like wanting to urinate on an empty bladder. Never had Jason imagined that gay foreplay would bring him to the edge of nirvana. Part of him swore revenge against Wesley for this.
A thin, reedy voice cooed.
Jason opened his eyes and turned left.
To his shock, Claire was rubbing her bare slit. She was facing up like a mermaid sunbathing on the sands of the Caribbean. Claire writhed tinglingly, her arched back straddling the golden line between the brown rug of the alcove and the oak-wood strips of the living room.
Jason ogled her breathily. His body heated to the sizzle in his gonads. At last, he awakened to the night breeze that was whiffling around his quadriceps and cooling his skin.
Claire slipped her white ballerina shoes off via the heel of each foot.
Jason yawped the long grunt of a roused football player--pushing whenever Wesley dove into the dick and pulling back whenever Wesley retreated.
Claire shucked off her yellow skirt and white panties the rest of the way.
"Mama mia!" Jason said. He pulled Wesley's hair with the power of an airliner's engines upon takeoff.
With his eyes, Wesley pleaded for mercy against Jason's double-handgrip of his hair. So intense was the yearning in those orbs that Wesley literally beseeched Jason to kiss him.
Jason looked upon the blond the way a bully glazes at a floored wimp. "You want my straight sperm?"
Wesley bobbed his head.
"Then, suck like a faggot!" Jason said and vengefully pulled Wesley's hair toward him.
The cockhound loosened his grip on Jason's hamstrings and slithered his palms northward.
"Nuh-uh," Jason said, brusquely arcing his hands back. "You're not touching my butt, queer pouf! You're only gonna suck my cock, like you and your hussy planned in the car."
Wesley looked apologetically at him and allowed Jason to lower his hands in the appropriate direction.
Wesley's fingers dabbed Jason's forearms with moisture.
Jason jerked his embrace away as if taking his hands off a hot stove. Quickly, he relaid his hands on the horndog's head.
Wesley's deep-blue orbs exuded a gush of spiritual pre-cum.
Jason rammed his dick harder into Wesley--in and out, up and down. "You like my straight cock, don't you?"
Wesley nodded achingly.
"Then, take it, Mary!"
Wesley sucked faster.
"Fucking queer fag!" Jason hollered, his eyes flitting toward the bright-yellow walls. "I can't believe I'm about to--" Shock rocked his psyche as he realized that his cock was, indeed, capable of ejaculating into another guy.
Wesley sucked harder, deeper, and faster, his mouth a washing machine on final spin cycle.
"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!" Jason heaved, his heart flooding with guilt.
Wesley hummed in crescendo under his breath.
Jason shut his eyes tighter than a power ball in a fist, and he sprayed two, four, eight, eleven times into the faggot's head.
Wesley kept swallowing; the dick stopped; and Wesley's throat ruffled the cock for the last time.
At last, Jason dropped to his knees, arched left, and fell on his back.
"Now, wasn't that a worthwhile experience?" Claire said.
"Unfucking believable," Jason panted, lying on the golden border of the floor.
"Are you ready for me?"
"Give me a second," Jason heaved, staring at the milky-white ceiling.
The vertical slats of the white blind clacked lightly to a whiff of air. The cool breeze swept over Jason's sleek, tawny skin like autumn leaves wafting off the earth. A mildly piny scent, in turn, infiltrated Jason's nostrils with the freshness of the spruces, firs, and cypresses outside the apartment.
Jason inhaled deeply, trying to regain his strength.
"Stick it to me," Claire whispered in a trio of tinkles.
Lazily, Jason rolled his head left. "What?"
"You're not the only guy in the world," Wesley said, bumping toward the area between Claire's spread legs. Squatting before her like a mountain overlooking a valley, he untied his white basketball sneakers.
Something about the sound of Wesley's shoelaces made Jason quiver with excitement and blush with envy.
As if starting to kowtow, Wesley lowered his knees to the rug, then pushed off his sneakers via his underside. He shucked down his blue boxers and white briefs, squeezed them over his knees, and stepped out of the rumpled clothes.
Jason's nozzle rose to the Edenic beauty of Wesley's peach-orange skin, which looked about 30% thicker than a girl's skin.
Claire's bush jumped at Jason.
Jason goggled at the shockingly arousing work of art. How could he have missed the V that Claire had shaved above her cunt? As for Wesley's huge cock, how could Jason have assumed otherwise?
Wesley gloated at Claire's red-hot prepuce. Swift as a golden eagle swooping upon a rabbit, he placed his uncut pecker between her silky legs.
"But you're gay!" Jason said, propping left his rising torso like a seal.
"For your information, I'm trisexual," Wesley said. He pushed into her cleft.
Dipping his forehead, Jason tipped his eyes at Wesley and arched his eyebrows so as to say: Come again?
"Zone 3 of that graph behind you," Wesley said.
Jason twisted his neck further left. Quickly, he studied the three interlacing circles that floated from left to right inside the large picture frame. Why, Jason wondered, did each circle have a different season inside? Why were the circles different sizes, with the "autumn" circle in the middle the largest? Was that image the bisexual symbol of the late teens?
Wesley placed Claire's heels on his toned shoulders. He inclined forward his muscular body and sunk his woody deeper than the lowest oil rig. Thrusting like a bonobo, he sucked the girl's lips as if devouring a strawberry.
This is gayness gone too far! Jason howled in his mind. A queer guy fucking a girl just to prove he's like me?
Wesley kissed Claire's neck. "You thought I couldn't fuck girls, eh?"
Jason's lips moved to unformed words.
"Well, I can!" Wesley said.
Claire purred.
"See?" Wesley continued, eyeing Jason. "I can take her as much as you can." He pumped harder than a pestle in a mortar.
Claire humped back brusquely, and her moans got louder. "Shoot your cream in me."
"You want my queer seed in you?" Wesley said.
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" she chuffed.
"Then, take my wiener!"
"Oh, Wes ... Wes ... Wes!" Her rapidly forming goose bumps indicated an approaching climax.
"You have one hot pussy, you know that?" Wesley said, the toughness in his voice sprinkled by its puppy-love passion.
"If only you knew ... how my cunt ... feels ... burning ... from the inside," Claire gasped. Her dreamy, half-shut orbs communicated something amorphous.
Wesley slipped his hands down Claire's legs. "Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!" His physique shook like a banana tree, and his expression said it all.
Jason felt everything with him: Wesley's body melting like an ice cube on a hot tarmac, his balls frizzling a la shrimp marinara, and his cream of coconuts squirting from his cock like water from a spray gun.
At last, Wesley collapsed on Claire.
The slats to the balcony rattled to a gust of wind.
A stronger version of pine scent walloped Jason's nostrils, and the fruity, semi-salty aroma of Claire's skin pricked the cave walls of Jason's nose.
Jason pushed his crumpled clothes down the river bend of his legs. He unzipped his black walking sneakers and tossed his corduroys, briefs, and socks.
The articles flew like strands of hay.
Jason grabbed Wesley's arm, forced him back, and squeezed a knee over Claire's leg.
Wesley bumped over her other leg. Imitating a frog, he croaked, "Grabbit."
"Roger," Claire said. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around Jason's dick.
Jason's blood turned into all the world's rapids, and his body jerked like a raft.
Jason wrapped a hand around Claire's fingers and led them toward the volcano beneath his member.
The milk-crusted head of his cock sunk slowly into her slit.
"Yeah!" Wesley said. "Flood her insides."
Jason raised Claire's calves toward his shapely shoulders and pushed harder.
The teary squishiness of Claire's vagina rocked Jason's soul. Yet, Jason couldn't stop thinking that evolution didn't mean for things to be like this. Simply put, it was unnatural for a male to let another male cum in the female of a species. Still, this was what Jason had allowed Wesley to do--and what Wesley was encouraging Jason to do. Even more disturbing, Jason found himself enjoying the feel of another dude's semen entering his piss slit. Fired up like a drunken frat boy, Jason began the copulatory rhythm.
"Yes, tiger," Claire said in a sorority girl voice.
Jason lowered his gym-tightened chest. "Homo over there sure knows how to cum."
A surge of wind buffeted Jason's rumps like an open hand.
Was the cuff a sign that nature was on Wesley's side? Jason wondered. Possessing sand-colored nates, Jason couldn't be sure that Wesley wouldn't spank him, as well--or worse. Terrified and incited at the prospect, Jason humped harder and faster into Claire. He kneaded her left casaba and licked the engorged nipple on the right.
"All right," Wesley cheered, lying like a ferret to Jason's right. He reached for a gold-dusted, red cushion, pulled it off a yellow butterfly chair, and slipped the pillow under Claire's head.
The red boosted Jason's excitement. As a result, Jason pistoned more urgently into Claire.
"Yes," Claire gasped, her eyes hooked into Jason's. "Fuck me harder!"
Jason stared into her orbs with the fury of a windstorm. "You want my cock?"
"I need it!" she screamed.
"You got it, Madonna." With that, Jason grabbed her lean legs, lowered them aside, and pushed like a linebacker.
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" Claire panted.
"You like that?"
"God, yes!" she wailed.
"Then, take my wiener!" He kept slamming into her shorter, thinner body.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, banged her head against the pillow, and convulsed uncontrollably.
"Fuck!" Jason squalled. "I'm cumming!"
Jason's body shimmied like a jalopy swooshing at 60 miles an hour. His balls churned, sizzled, and vaporized, and his hot dog melted in the heat of Claire's underworld. At last, he collapsed on her.
III
Jason stared at the grid platform's 3-D image of Claire's face. He shook his head in disappointment. "I can't believe you allow a gay dude to fuck you."
"Wesley's gay in the romantic sense," Claire corrected, "as in homoromantic. But in the purely sexual sense, he's trisexual."
"What is that anyway?" Jason said.
"Tri for Zone 3 of that graph he showed you. Tri also means that Wesley's willing to try sex with anyone he likes."
"Is that like bisexual or something?"
"The gay side of the bi circle, yes," Claire said.
"But didn't you say that he loves you?" Jason said.
"Of course! But in a more heteroplatonic kind of way."
"Yet, he fucks you," he said.
"When he's horny enough and none of his college buddies are around to feed him their members," she said casually. "Or when there's another hunk to join on that hunk's ride with me."
Jason's diamond face grew puzzled. "I don't get it."
"Most straight men don't," Claire said amusedly. "Think of it this way. Many straight guys fool around with other straight guys. It's nothing,' they say, just sex with my buddy.' That's what the bisexual liberation movement of the 2020s is all about--heteroromantic college buddies who are proud and open bisexuals."
"You mean, those neo-hippie, wannabe-yuppie college men increasingly seen on the news?" Jason said, excited and revolted at the idea.
"Exactly," Claire said. "Already, they are 24% of the population."
"I've noticed how bis are wearing an earring on each ear," Jason said.
"One for each sex they find attractive. Wesley only wears one earring because he leans to the left. But most bis are in the middle."
Jason fixed his gaze upon the holographic phone's control panel. Like his thoughts, his eyes began to zigzag as he tried to sort the good from the bad. "I'm not sure that I approve of what you and Wesley are doing," he said, "and I sure don't understand how a gay guy could enjoy sex with a girl. I'll tell you what I do know, however. Last week's fuck session was the best lay I've ever had."
"With me or Wesley?" Claire jested.
"I only fucked you."
"Right," she said.
"And I would do anything to have you again."
Her oval, tawny face lit up like a sunflower. "Great," she said. "Meet me at 7 o'clock. My place."
IV
Claire led Jason into the brightly lit apartment. "Tonight, you're gonna have to do a little more," she said.
"Like what?"
Wesley emerged from behind the living room.
"Tonight, you have to fuck Wesley."
Jason puffed in disbelief, although part of him had seen this coming. "Let me guess," he said, looking at Wesley. "You want me to squirt in you."
The blond coyly lowered his round chin.
"Why the fuck do you insist on corrupting me? Can't you see I like girls?" Jason's voice turned whiny. "Why can't you stick to your kind and let straight guys like me enjoy chicks like Claire?" He shifted his eyes left. "Or are you the mastermind behind this, trying to satisfy some twisted kick by seeing your gay beau fucked like a girl?"
"You'll like it," Claire rippled.
"--and I'll fucking catch his germs down there!"
"Sometimes in life, one has to take risks to enjoy certain things," she said.
Jason shook his head in denial.
"I wouldn't ask you to do something most men wouldn't enjoy," Claire resumed. "And my pussy isn't going anywhere. You can always top off your gay experience with a straight one, leaving your fragile, heteroromantic identity intact."
Jason huffed.
"Besides, he's the one getting fucked," Claire said. She turned to Wesley and found the dark space beyond the living room instead.
Somehow, Wesley had managed to glide into the kitchen without making a sound. His left hand rested on the white entrance counter. He raised his eyebrows at Claire and Jason in a mix of spiritual detachment and childlike wonder. The white fluorescent light, in turn, shone upon his golden-blond hair as if part of his aura, and his peach-orange physique took an almost mystical look.
Claire looked yearningly at Wesley. Slowly, she approached him. "It is at times like these that I feel most proud to have you as my boyfriend." She took his hand, and a tear welled in her eye. "You're more masculine than Jason will ever be. Or any straight guy, for that matter."
"You want me to give him my ass?" Jason said. He ripped off his green Henley along its buttoned middle. "Would that prove my manliness to you?"
Claire turned right. "I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"I see," Jason said sarcastically. "You're trying to desensitize me, step-by-step. Tonight, I fuck Wesley. Tomorrow night, he fucks me!"
"That's not true," she said, wiping a tear.
Claire and Jason's panting filled the kitchen. Somehow, however, Wesley's impartiality seemed to ease tensions. Silence fell like the fog of a British Columbia inlet, and Claire and Jason's breathing evened out.
"I don't know what I'll do tomorrow," Jason said, disrupting the quiet like a pebble a crystalline lake. "But I do know that I want your pussy ... and I will do anything to get it." Hesitantly, he looked at the blond.
Wesley was sporting orange boxer shorts. As usual, his mildly tanned legs advertised his athleticism. He removed his yellow tank top, and his chest continued the player leitmotif.
Jason twitched a leg muscle in Wesley's direction.
Wesley inched toward Jason.
Jason approached Wesley.
And Wesley brushed his fingers against Jason's ab muscles--tiny cotton rolls stroking the skin of scallions.
The breathing of the fellows became as labored as the panting of boxers in a ring--Jason's with jittery unease and Wesley's with horny excitement. With the speed of spreading smoke, the smell of the young men overtook the leftover aroma of pumpkin pie.
Quicker than a falling stack of supermarket cans, Wesley shucked down his shorts and Jason's corduroys. Then, he caressed Jason's beautifully shaped pecs.
For some reason, Jason didn't protest Wesley's initiative in touching his chest. Maybe it was its wheat-colored contrast with Wesley's peach-orange chest--the yin-yang, non-gay difference made more evident by the youngsters' hairlessness there. Whatever the answer, Jason touched Wesley's quadriceps in response.
The fairy's eyes of jello smiled brightly--his irises blue skies at noon.
Jason's heart thumped in a strange way. Nonetheless, Jason kept feeling Wesley's blond, semi-furry legs, trying to gauge their difference from girl flesh.
"Almost like monkey grass, eh?" Wesley said. He stepped out of his shorts.
Jason ankled out of his pants. As though Wesley were his opponent at a wrestling match, Jason picked him up, carried him to the bean sofa, and dropped him on the satin.
"Hey, catcher!" Claire hollered. She tossed a blue tube of something to Wesley.
Wesley caught the thing. "Ball 3."
Jason yanked Wesley's white briefs down, then over the top of his thrown-up legs.
Wesley smeared the silver lube onto his pink hole, which puckered over the edge of the bean sofa.
Jason's white briefs bulged like one of the sofa's white fluffy clouds. Perhaps it was the sight of Wesley lying in the sky like an angel that did it for Jason.
Claire kneeled below Wesley to Jason's left. "Help me untie his sneakers," she said.
Something about the rawness of this caused Jason to abruptly push down his briefs, step out of them, and drop to his knees. Adrenaline kept rushing through his body like a swarm of fireflies. He wrested off Wesley's black-and-white basketball sneakers and white, cotton socks.
Claire raised her thin, brown eyebrows in surprise. She rose like a helicopter and glided away.
But Jason wasn't through! After catching his breath, he fell on his nates, raised his legs, and held his black sneakers to Wesley's face. The fruit's duty was clear.
With the delight of a 4-year-old, Wesley unzipped and pulled off Jason's sneakers. He threw them right and left and peeled off the chap's black, cotton socks. Wesley then held up his legs higher than before.
Wesley's behavior shocked the bejesus out of Jason. How, he wondered, could a guy feel no shame about throwing up his legs like that? Jason kneeled between the appendages of beef and scowled at the awkwardness of his position vis-a-vis Wesley.
Tepid as soup, the supple calves landed on Jason's shoulders.
Slowly, Jason inserted his oozing dangle of seven inches.
The chute was warm as the innards of an antelope. It resisted Jason's wiener with the strength of a baseball glove squeezing to an intruding hand.
"Bro," Jason breathed. "You sure are tight."
"Start pumping, and you'll see how loose I can get," Wesley said, his boyish eyes shooting lust at him.
"Fine, Mary!" Weird as it felt, Jason started humping the ass.
"Yeah," Wesley whiffled.
Jason sped his thrusts.
The blond shook his stuffed corkscrew.
"You sure get a kick out of this, don't you?" Jason said.
"Since I was 13," Wesley heaved.
"Then, take my sausage!"
Wesley wailed as though Jason had punched him in the stomach.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Wesley grunted.
"Then, take my milk!"
Tri boy squalled an ah. Twisting a nipple, he strained his neck back.
The fork of blue-green veins on Wesley's neck aroused Jason. Maybe it was because the veins accentuated the fact that he was fucking a guy. Not knowing why, Jason lowered his chest.
Wesley raised his lips and drew out a teat like a suction cup.
"Fuckin' A!" Jason said, throwing his head back.
Wesley's titillation of Jason's nipple filled Jason with fright and excitement, as no chick had ever stimulated his body with such calculation, crudeness, and directness. To Jason's shock, Wesley, the queer, was controlling him with the skill of a ventriloquist. Worse, each gay move of Wesley's pulled areas of Jason's soul that he didn't even know existed. Jason's social conditioning told him to pound the faggot and get the hell out of there. The vulgar pressure around his cock and the tongue sensations around his teat told him to stay plugged to the fairy.
The bean sofa ruffled violently.
"Man!" Jason gobbled.
"Whoo-hoo!" Wesley cheered, his seed sack sliding back and forth.
Maybe it was desire for revenge. Or perhaps, Jason was allowing himself free rein in this sunlit meadow of queer sexuality. Whatever the explanation, he reached for Wesley's cock and squeezed the erect piece of pizza dough.
Wesley wailed.
"You better not complain," Jason said, sputtering droplets onto Wesley's peach-orange cheeks. "Or else, you may really get it."
"Stop!" Wesley screamed, squeezing his eyes shut.
But Jason kept squeezing the sophomore's dick and battering his prostate. "That's what you get for stealing me from Claire."
Wesley opened his saucers. I can't take any more massaging down and behind! he said. Yet, his face begged for another round of cock squeezing and prostate ramming. Like a good, little boy, he fluted, "I promise I'll behave."
"I don't wanna hear another word from you," Jason grated with the distorted, low tone of a mangled audio disk.
"Or else?" Wesley said with a puppy-face air of innocence.
"Or else, I'll give you this," Jason said, driving his frank to the hilt on this.
"Ouch!" Wesley said, and his calves slipped off Jason's shoulders.
Jason slithered his arms around Wesley's thighs. "Oooh, yeah."
Wesley's soles of light-pink pointed at Jason's face like camera-light reflectors. They danced to Jason's bucking of his hips. Then, the unspeakable happened. Grinning mischievously, Wesley said, "I dare you to kiss my feet."
Jason scoped the scrumptious-looking soles. His heart stirred in a weird way. To his astonishment, Jason discovered that he actually wanted to try this. But as straight hunk, he couldn't just give in to a fairy's perverse demand. He had to make Wesley pay for this "service."
Jason grinded his hips to a halt. "You're one twisted fox."
Fright gripped Wesley's face, as the blond apparently wondered whether he had pushed the envelope too far.
A wicked smile slowly materialized on Jason's face. "Tell you what," he said. "I give you the spanking that you deserve, and if you live through that, your feet are mine."
"Right on," Wesley said.
Jason swung to his feet with the dexterity of a leopard.
Wesley flipped to his stomach, dropped his knees to the floor, and keeled over the sofa.
Jason kneeled behind Wesley, pressed his thing past the peach butt cheeks, and smacked the sophomore.
"Yeah," Wesley coaxed, humping back. "Give me discipline."
"You better pray I do," Jason said. "Because I haven't even started." Slap! Slap! Slap!
"God!" Claire screamed, rubbing over her red, silk panties. She continued to recline her left foot on the end table. "This is so hot!"
Slap on the right rump! Slap on the left rump!
"Ouch!" Wesley wailed, clawing a cloud.
Slap!
"Stop!"
"You better quit whining," Jason grizzled. "Or else, I'll give you this."
"Argh!" Wesley yawped, turning back.
"That's what you get for corrupting me."
"I learned my lesson!" Wesley said.
"Shut up, rug rat!" Slap on the right! Slap on the left!
"Please," Wesley said with a pout.
Jason pushed harder and deeper into Wesley--and practically felt the blond's hard-on rubbing against the sofa.
"I promise I'll be good!"
"But you'll never be 100% straight," Jason said. "Not even close. For that alone, your buns deserve to be spanked till they turn to tomatoes." Slap! Slap! Slap!
"Urgh!" Wesley whooped, his contorted face red as his nates. "But I fuck girls sometimes. Don't I get a break for that?"
"Not good enough," Jason snarled. He pistoned as hard as his heart hammered inside him. "You gotta stop seducing guys, for starters. Then, you gotta learn to guard your butt, something the vast majority of men do out of self-respect."
"What happens if I don't guard my heinie?" Wesley said with the high-pitched innocence of a boy.
"You get had," Jason grated. He massaged Wesley's rumps. "Is getting stuffed what you like?"
"Yes!" Wesley barked defiantly.
"So you like this kinky stuff," Jason said.
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"
"Then, take it like a man!" Slap! Slap!
Not in a thousand years would a girl allow a guy to rough her up like this. At least, that is what Jason thought. Now, by contrast, Jason found himself free to be as brusque as he wanted with Wesley. In the midst of such liberty, Jason hankered for the freedom to do everything that his girlfriends had never allowed in bed. Panic struck him as he felt the boundlessness of his sexual cravings, and worse, as he realized that only through another pig like him would he ever come to satisfy his animal hungers. Gay sex had thus become a blessing ... and a curse.
Jason pulled his dick out, spun and threw Wesley onto the sofa, and yanked the blond's calves toward his shoulders.
"Alright!" Wesley said. "Mr. Toughguy's really getting into this." He palm-scrubbed the waves of muscle that rippled across the lake of his abs.
The corn-like smell of Wesley's skin had turned stronger and saltier, and his sculpted chest oozed the sweat of a gym warm-up.
Jason pried open Wesley faster than a knight stabbing his opponent off a horse.
"Yeah!" Wesley said. "Fuck my ass!"
Soft and supple, Wesley's soles looked too yummy for Wesley's good.
Jason bit the pansy's toes as if they were chicken strips fresh out of a rotisserie.
Wesley belched the howl of a hog.
Jason pulled his lips off the digits, brought his nose to a hard landing on the sole, and licked it.
Wesley's whoop vibrated up his leg and zapped Jason's tongue like a bolt of electricity.
Electrified from head to toe, Jason licked harder.
"Whoopee!" Wesley heaved, jolting Jason with each shake of his weenie.
Never had Jason imagined that a dude's feet could be such a turn-on. Now, their meaty taste edged Jason's hunger for crusty chicken.
Jason sniffed the flesh.
Its mushy smell was blended with leftover laundry detergent. The odor certainly was cleaner than Jason had imagined--still a little vulgar and sporty but nothing like guys' feet were supposed to smell.
Prompted by this discovery, Jason rubbed his nose against the flesh as though the sole were a girl's cheek. This was so naughty! Jittery like a squirrel, he swooped toward the other sole, sniffed it, and kissed it.
"Warmer than the scruff of a puppy, eh?" Wesley said, breathing hard.
The more Jason worshipped Wesley's feet, the more their hue, smell, taste, and texture intoxicated him. Hard as he tried, he simply couldn't stop!
"Oh, tiger," Wesley said, thrashing his head on the bean sofa. "I've never been so horny ... in my entire ... life!"
Jason pulled up like a biplane that had been hit by enemy fire, then fell onto the bosky territory of Wesley's shins and calves. Stranded again, he snuffled the flesh, kissed it, and kneaded Wesley's quadriceps the way a guy touches a girl.
Wesley squirmed like a ferret trying to squeeze through some hole. Goose bumps popped up over his skin. His eyelids fluttered half-shut. Still, Wesley's erect cock didn't spout anything.
Jason couldn't believe his eyes, as only chicks came in that manner.
Wesley continued to quiver orgasmically.
Apparently, males were capable of climaxing in multiple ways. The fact that a queer dude was showing Jason that petrified the straight collegian like few things had up to that point. Jason's panic was akin to his freshman-year discovery that he had $27 left in the bank. This time, however, the terror passed him quicker than a blast of arctic wind a spruce pine.
Jason straightened his body into an L.
"Yeah!" Wesley growled, ready for another lap around the racetrack. "Feed your dick into me." He squeezed and released his crab apples in rapid succession.
"You truly are something else," Jason said with disgust. Inside, however, he found himself reveling at Wesley's primate motions. How Jason wished that his straight buddies had taught him that method of masturbation in high school. In knee-jerk reaction, Jason sawed harder into Wesley.
"Whoo-hoo!" Wesley said. "You hit the spot!"
What would Wesley and Jason's parents say if they caught the twinks--not to mention Claire--in the middle of what they were doing? What would the youths answer regarding the constructiveness of their act that night? How would Wesley and Jason, in particular, explain their enjoyment at engaging in dirty sex?
You're our country's future, Jason's mother said in his head. Her frail voice echoed, Many enemies walk in our midst.
Jason's balls approached blastoff.
You must be ever vigilant against them.
Jason turned left. "His butt sure is hotter than your cunt," he hollered, trying to forget the echoes in his mind. "Holy cow! You're wetter than a pussycat."
Claire kept rubbing herself furiously.
Jason's nuts slapped Wesley hard.
"Fuck me harder," Wesley heaved.
"Like this?" Jason said ... and plunged in like the landing gear of a jet touching down upon a runway.
"Harder," Wesley grunted.
"How about now?"
"Better," Wesley said, rubbing his balls faster than water whirling down a toilet.
"Fuck!" Jason yawped. "I can't believe I'm about to--"
The semen shot up his cock like an injection. A second squirt rocked his innards, then another ... and another ... and another.
Jason howled like a wolf in the wild, twisting his back into a C.
Wesley tensed and relaxed his ass.
Not only did this squeeze more seed out of Jason. The sight of Wesley squirting cream right and left added a visceral intensity to Jason's physical tension. Thank God that science has eradicated STDs! Jason rumbled in his subconscious ... and came again ... and again ... and again.
Watching him tipsily, Wesley spouted in never-ending rounds of meltdown.
At last, Jason collapsed on Wesley.
The smell of lecithin wafted through the mildly sticky air. Claire reclined on Jason's back ... and blocked some of the night breeze that was blowing past the sliding glass door.
Jason, however, continued to rest on Wesley, basking in the male-male intimacy that more straight men of his generation were opening themselves to under the slogan: Bisexual Liberation. The peace that now enveloped Wesley and Jason truly surpassed words. Hopefully, Jason concluded, society would soon reach the point when all guys could attain this level of contentment, free from guilt and inhibitions.