As with the previous chapters, the following disclaimers/conditions apply: This story is a fictitious account. Any relation to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story contains male-to-male sex between consenting adults. If you are under the age of 18, or if it is illegal in the area in which you live to read such materials, please continue no further. This story is copyrighted by the author, and no portion of this story may be copied, distributed or republished without the author's express, written consent.
I have received some feedback on my story, and I greatly appreciate the compliments. I hope that you all enjoy this next chapter, as well as the chapters to come.
========================================================================== "As the guardian of the innocent, banish this evil from my sight!" Those words echoed in his mind as he stirred himself awake. He had been recovering for the better part of two days. He wondered if his foe knew just how powerful and effective his attack had been. He barely got away in time, and he was far too weak to teleport himself all the back to the dark side of the moon. Fortunately, he had those on his side to rescue him. They found him on top of a garbage barge of all things, being picked and pecked at by all sorts of vulturous animals.
So, who was this new guardian? And how did he become so powerful? Did he know just how powerful he was? These questions unsettled him as he walked through his room in the darkness, his velvet robe sweeping the floor as he crossed to the window, staring out into the sky. He had been locked away for a long time, and it took him all of his resources and creativity to be able to forge his escape. This new guardian posed a serious threat. Just who was he, anyway? He had only been imprisoned for a few centuries. Was it possible the worlds had changed so drastically while he was gone?
He paused in his thoughts. He felt a slight psychic probe. Someone was searching the astral plane for him. He decided to "listen in" on who this anonymous searcher was. This person wasn't a very skilled psychic, he detected. They haven't practiced the art of honing. This person was expending way too much energy, he could tell. It seemed as if this seeker had searched nearly every mind in the realm, looking for his specific signature. This seeker was definitely getting close to his target, but he could tell that they were also getting fatigued. They were working hard, not smart. He put up a psychic shield and chuckled to himself. By the time this mystery detective broke through the shield to track him, he or she would have exhausted themselves in the process and would be easy to destroy... or convert. He laughed out loud at the thought.
Of all his cosmic gifts, he considered his telepathy to be the strongest. Even when he was banished to this darkened hell on the other side of the moon, his mind was still his strongest asset. They couldn't fully strip those powers away from him; his were too strong. They could only call on the shadows of the moon to bind his mind. In time, he found a way to break the bind, and he could feel his mental powers grow. As time passed, he learned to manipulate the will of those around him, even though his powers were not as strong as they once had been. Soon enough, he had enough people psychically connected to him and to his will that he was able to force a small rebellion and an escape.
Now, the edifice that was once his prison was now his fortress. He was slowly building an army. His ancient powers had all but returned to him. The spirit of the moon had grown alert to both his escape and to his plans, and it was she, no doubt, who alerted the goddess. And it was the goddess who called upon that insufferable guardian of hers. The guardian was the one to worry about. It was the guardian that nearly killed him.
But what about the boy?
The boy was an unusual source of energy and power. At the height of the boy's orgasm, he possessed as much energy as maybe ten human men. Perhaps the boy could be used in the future. Having failed at killing him once, the boy earned the right to life. He would not attack the boy again. But, maybe, just maybe, that boy could be used...
He laughed to himself as he began to dress. He was strong again, but he was hungry, too. It was time to return to earth. There was work to be done.
===============
"Isn't this bar to die for?" Bill asked his friend, Patrick. Bill and Patrick were miles away from campus, and miles away from their other teammates. The two of them looked like quite the odd couple. Bill, the place kicker for the team, stood at about 5'6" tall. He was very petite with slight shoulders and an even tinier waist. His legs were long, though, and like most kickers, he was flexible. Bill was also on the college's swim team, so his body was definitely toned in all the right places. He was wearing a solid navy blue Gap shirt, a shirt which stopped right at the top of his belt line. Bill always wore his shirts short or tucked in, to make sure that his prize assets -- if you pardon the pun -- could be prominently seen in the back of his perennially tight jeans.
Patrick, on the other hand, towered over Bill at 6'4". He was the team's tight end, and his 245 lb. frame was all muscle. Patrick had curly auburn/chestnut colored hair, and his normally golden complexion had a slight reddish tint to it tonight, the result of just a little too much time in the tanning salon. Patrick was dressed in a form-fitting black Gucci sweater, wearing a pair of slate-colored Kenneth Cole slacks over his Kenneth Cole shoes. His 3/4-length leather jacket also fit him to a tee. He and Bill stood at the bar, watching men come and go. The bar was underground; the entrance to the bar was street level, but the bar itself was three flights of stairs below. It was a very small, very intimate setting, but tonight it seemed as if all the men in town were crammed into this local hot spot.
"It's a good thing my dad isn't here," Patrick said. Patrick's father was the Fire Chief of Patrick's hometown, and it was assumed that Patrick would join his dad on the squad as soon as he finished college. He had yet to tell his father that he wanted to pursue other things. He was fortunate enough to get a full ride to the university he was attending -- the joys of being an All-American athlete -- but he knew that he didn't want to go pro. His father would accept him not being a firefighter if he turned pro. But not turning pro and not being the fifth generation of firefighting Smith men would just be unacceptable.
"If your father were here, Pat, the fire code violations would be the least of his -- and your -- concerns," Bill said, elbowing his massive friend in the ribs.
"I know, he would probably beat my ass right were I stood," Patrick said, taking an uncomfortable sip from his beer. Suddenly, he felt the need to get very drunk, very fast. Thinking about disappointing your father because you don't want to be a pro football player or a fireman was one thing. Having your father find out that you're "one of those fairies" was another.
"Hey, Pat, we're out here tonight to have fun, remember? We drove fifty miles away from campus to get away from prying eyes and whispers. We drove away from campus to let loose, forget, stop pretending and just be ourselves for a while, remember? So, let's leave your daddy back at home with the rest of all your problems. We'll tackle those -- and the other guys on the field -- some other time. Right now, I need to get me some ass!!"
"You mean give UP your ass, don't you?" Patrick teased.
"Fuck you, bitch," Bill chortled, punching Pat in the chest. Even though Patrick was twice his size, Bill wasn't afraid of him, or anyone else for that matter. Growing up in an abusive, violent neighborhood taught him how to fend for himself. Being the runt of the four boys didn't help matters much, either. He had to be a fighter, and he'd been fighting all his life. Still, he had the most indomitable spirit of anyone, and he never let his hard life get him down. In fact, most people didn't know of all the hardships Bill faced growing up. He never let on that he was poor, that his dad died when he was 3, that his mom never remarried or dated anyone since his dad died, that his oldest brother was killed working a late-night job to help his mom make ends meet -- no one knew any of these things about Bill. Except Patrick.
Bill and Patrick made an unlikely duo, not only because of their difference in stature, but also because of their different backgrounds. Patrick was the hometown hero of a small New England town; Bill was the city kid who grew up tough and had a knack for kicking a ball through the uprights. Most football teams seldom give their kickers any respect in the first place -- for starters, the kickers are usually the smallest of the team are seldom considered to be "real athletes". After all, their only job is to come in and kick a ball off a tee; how hard could that be?
In fact, Bill and Patrick probably would have never hit it off if Bill didn't catch Patrick one day after practice jacking off in the locker room to a gay magazine. It was customary for Patrick to wait for everyone to leave the showers before taking his. He would stretch and cool down first, and then he would relax in the hot tub before heading to the showers. He was usually the last person to leave, and as a result, he usually had the hot tub, the showers, and the entire locker room all to himself.
One particular day Patrick had a magazine with him that he found in the Campus Center. He was sitting off in the corner of the Rec room, watching TV while waiting for practice to start, and he noticed a plastic bag next to the side of his chair. When he looked in the bag he saw two VHS tapes and a magazine. On the cover of the magazine, he saw a naked muscular man stroking his very hard cock. Patrick didn't have time to run it back to his apartment on the other side of campus, so he stuffed the bag inside his duffel bag and headed off to practice.
Once practice was over, Patrick decided to take the magazine into the hot tub with him. Since he was sure that he was going to be all alone in the locker room, he figured he'd have something to fantasize upon while he jacked himself off. Just as he was about to come, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
"So, you like boys, huh?" the voice said. Patrick nearly had a heart attack; he thought for sure one of his teammates had found him and was undoubtedly going to out him to rest of the team, even the school. Immediately, Patrick thought about his father and what his father would say -- or, worse, what his father would do -- when word inevitably got back to him. His father was a relatively even-tempered man, but there was one thing that was clear: he didn't like gays. Everyone in his hometown knew of the only time Patrick Sr. had ever lost his temper or became violent: a gay man made a pass at him at the local bar, and Patrick's father beat the man into a coma. All he could think about was his father doing the same thing to him. His life was over.
Stunned, he dropped the magazine into the water and whirled around, his hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and anger. He was ready to fight whomever this was. He had to make sure that his secret didn't come out to anyone.
Patrick was about ready to take a swing when he noticed it was Bill, the place kicker. He figured that he could easily intimidate Bill into silence -- after all, he was twice Bill's size -- and so maybe the diplomatic approach would work after all. Still, Bill had the upper hand here and Patrick knew it, and you could never be too sure what someone else is going to do. Deep in his heart, Patrick was scared shitless.
Bill had recoiled at the sight of Patrick's fighting stance and was equally ready to fight. His quick mind was hard at work, trying to diffuse the situation. "Hey, Pat, take it easy. It's cool, man. Calm down. I'm not going to tell anyone. It's cool."
Patrick was already beginning to relax a little, but he was hesitant to believe Bill. "How do I know that you're not gonna tell? How do I know you're not just fucking with me?"
"Because, I like to fuck guys, too."
Bill's words caught Patrick off guard, and his mouth dropped open. He stood there, staring at Bill, not sure what to do or to say next. Of all the possible things he could say, Patrick chose to take the route of denial.
"Hey, I'm no fag. I don't like to fuck guys. I found that magazine," Patrick squirmed through his half-lie. While he did find the magazine, he knew in his heart that he was, indeed, a "fag". He had fooled around with a guy once in high school on a weekend trip to Boston, and he had wanted to fuck a guy ever since.
Bill didn't blink an eye. "I never called you a fag. There's no such thing as faggots. But if you're jacking off to a gay magazine, you're definitely not thinking about the ladies, if you know what I mean." He could see that Patrick was still hesitant to believe him. He felt sorry for the guy. To see someone so big and seemingly strong be so afraid... it was sad.
"Look, Pat, I swear, man, I'm not gonna tell anyone. No one else is here, so no one knows. Although, you gotta admit, if you want to keep this closeted, jacking off to a gay mag in the hot tub is not the best idea."
Bill could see Patrick was starting to break a little. In fact, it looked as if Patrick was going to burst into tears at any moment. Bill felt an even greater swell of pity for the mammoth tight end. He had come out to his mother when he was a freshman in high school. She was shocked at first, and she was even a little angry. But then his older brother was killed in a robbery attempt the next month while working at a convenience store and that changed everything. She said that she would rather accept him for who and what he was and keep him and love him than lose another son. Their bond had been unbreakable ever since. A few years later, Bill came out to his remaining older brothers, and they took the news the same way their mother had at first. The three of them settled things in the way that they always did -- with a wrestling / sparring bout -- and by the end of the day, the family was tighter than they ever had been before.
Now, Bill stood there looking at this man who had come from such a strong and well-respected family, so unlike his own, and he saw that this kid who had grown up with so much more than he ever had, didn't even have the freedom to live his life the way that he wanted to. It broke Bill's heart.
"Hey, Pat, I mean it. I swear. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Besides, you can't keep this all to yourself forever. There's gotta come a time when someone has to know, right?" Bill put his hand on Pat's shoulder. Pat was no longer looking Bill in the eyes; he was staring vacantly into the water. Bill could tell that Patrick was struggling with whether or not Bill could be trusted with the secret, and Bill was desperate to prove that he could be trusted.
"Pat, you've got to be yourself with at least one person in this world. I swear on my father and my brother's graves, I will never tell anyone. You gotta believe me." By now, Bill had kicked off his shoes and was standing on the steps of the hot tub. He had both his hands on Pat's face, holding Pat's strong jaws between his hands. He needed to prove to Patrick that he wasn't a threat. He could tell that Patrick was close to breaking, close to trusting him. All he needed was a little push...
Bill pulled Pat's face close to his, and kissed him. He felt Patrick kiss him back. The kiss lasted for only a few moments, and then Bill pulled away.
"You can trust me, Pat. You can trust me." He saw Patrick heave a large sigh, and then he fell to his knees. Patrick wrapped his strong arms around Bill's tiny waist and buried his face into the belly of Bill's shirt. Bill could hear Patrick's stifled sobs; he sensed that a great burden had finally been lifted after years of suppression and denial.
"That's all right, big guy. You just cry. Let it all out. Let all the pain out. It's gonna be okay from now on. You'll see."
Bill held Patrick for a few moments. Patrick finally pulled his face away, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Thanks, Bill, I was just so scared when you caught me... I didn't know what to do or what to think. I've been needing to talk to someone for so long, but I just didn't know who I could trust. There's just so much pressure on me to make all the right decisions, man. I just can't take it. Between school, my career, my sexuality -- there's just so much pressure. I feel like I don't even know who I am or what I want. And I'm just so tired of being alone."
"Well, you're not alone anymore. Now, come on, let's get out of here before someone else comes in and you relive your hell of a few minutes ago." Bill stepped down from the hot tub and turned around as Patrick emerged from the water. Patrick was the only one of Bill's teammates that he hadn't scoped out yet. As he watched Patrick come out of the water, he immediately felt his cock come to life. Patrick's body was magnificent: his pectorals were large and firm, with two very large nipples. His abdomen was ripped; Patrick's long and lean torso was sculpted with six impressive abs. Patrick's waist was small, a contrast to his broad, muscular shoulders, huge biceps and well-defined triceps. Patrick's thighs -- and that thing dangling in between them -- were massive, and his quads were so clearly defined that Bill could see the four major muscles contract and release as Patrick walked toward him. Patrick's calves were equally thick and muscular, a nice finish to Patrick's virile frame.
"So, now that you know my secret, now what?"
"Well, now we go back to your room and look at that magazine," Bill said, massaging Patrick's dick and throwing him a flirtatious smile.
"Are you serious? You wanna fool around?"
"Not if you're going to say it like that, I don't. Come on, I haven't gotten any, I know that you haven't gotten any, and you seemed like you were close to finishing a moment ago, so why don't we finish what you've started?"
Patrick started to smile. It was true, he hadn't had any sex at all except for the five-finger variety. He had been trying so hard to protect his secret that he didn't even scope out any of his teammates. Part of the reason he always showered last was because he didn't want to risk throwing wood while he was showering with the other players. As he looked at Bill, he figured that it wasn't going to be such a bad deal having someone else know about him. He hadn't even noticed how cute Bill actually was. He had a nice, tight body, too.
Bill reached into the hot tub and grabbed the magazine from the water. "Well, I guess we can't really look at this one for a while; it's too wet. But I'm sure we can think of something else to do. Come on, let's go back to your apartment."
Within a half an hour, Patrick was showered and changed, and he and Bill made their way across campus to the apartment complex on the other side. These apartments were the newest addition to the campus, and only upperclassmen were able to apply for consideration. Each apartment was like a dorm itself, containing three individual bedrooms, two bathrooms, a central living space, a kitchen, and a washing machine and dryer. Patrick was fortunate that he had his own private space. Even though he had three other guys living in the same apartment, his bedroom was at the opposite end of the apartment from theirs, and his room was his own private domain.
Upon stepping into Patrick's room, Bill quickly kicked of his shoes and jumped onto the bed. Within a few seconds, he had stripped down to only his boxer-briefs.
"Hey, do you want to find out what's on these tapes? I think it might be gay porn," Patrick said, pulling the two VHS tapes out of the bag and inserting one into the TV/VCR.
"Nah, I don't really care about that right now. Even if it is gay porn, why watch it when I can have my own right here?" Bill slid his way of Patrick's bed and ran up behind him. He turned Patrick around and started pulling down Patrick's jeans. In the next instant, Bill's hands slid Patrick's Under Armor boxers down and he was sucking on Patrick's thick cock.
Patrick had to steady himself against the desk as he felt Bill bob up and down on his meaty rod. He hadn't done anything with another guy since that trip in high school, and this was more than he ever imagined could happen. Just then, a little dash of paranoia crept in, and Patrick pulled Bill's head away from his dick. He quickly walked over to the door of his bedroom and locked it. He then went over to his stereo system and started blasting music.
"What did you do that for?" Bill shouted over the volume.
"Just in case my roommates come in, I don't want them to hear me and another guy having sex."
Bill shook his head. He could understand a guy wanting to be careful, but this was too much. He went over to the radio and turned it off.
"Live a little dangerously, Pat," Bill said, walking back over to Patrick and pushing him onto the bed. "That's half the fun in life. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you know. Now, where was I?" With that, Bill bounded onto the bed. He grabbed Patrick's massive legs and threw them over his shoulders. He started jacking off Patrick's thick eight-inch dick with his right hand while he ran his left hand all over Patrick's chest and abs.
"You have an amazing body, do you know that, Pat? I mean, you're fucking Herculean or something. I never got the chance to check you out before 'cause you never showered with the rest of the guys. I had always hoped to get a piece of this ass, but I never thought that I would."
"Who said that you're going to get my ass?" Patrick asked, almost on the defensive.
"Relax, bro, relax. All in good time." Bill lowered his head and took the head of Patrick's dick into his mouth. Patrick's cock was already dripping pre-cum and his breaths were coming in shorter and shorter spurts. Bill could tell that Patrick was excited. He figured that it would just take a little coaxing to be able to get a crack at that tight ass.
Bill started working Patrick's hefty dick deeper and deeper into his throat, while gently massaging his heavy balls. Patrick's balls were perfect, Bill thought, not too thick and not too heavy. They were just enough to fit in his hand and play with. Once Bill had Patrick's thick dick all the way down his throat, he started to hum gently as he sucked his lips tightly around Patrick's dick. The effect was that of a human vibrator.
Patrick hadn't felt this good in a long time. He started bucking his hips forward. "Oh, man, Bill, that's feel amazing. Oh, yeah, suck my dick. Suck me off. Oh, fuck... take that cock all the way down your throat." Patrick felt as if his chest were on fire. He never knew that a blowjob could be this good. None of the girls he had been with had ever sucked him like Bill was right now. He was in heaven.
Bill slowly worked his lips back to the head of Patrick's dick, and he began swirling his tongue around the head and licking up and down the shaft. Bill then took both of Patrick's balls into his mouth while he jacked off Patrick's dick. While sucking on Patrick's balls and stroking his dick, Bill started to circle one of his fingers around Patrick's hot ass hole. Patrick's ass was slightly hairy, and Bill found it hot to play with the hairs around Patrick's ass crack.
Bill stopped sucking on Patrick's balls and went back to sucking and jacking off Patrick's huge dick. He started working his index finger around Patrick's hole, slowly pushing his finger inside. Patrick started moaning even louder at the invasion of his tight hole. Since Patrick didn't protest, Bill started finger-fucking him with his index finger, while sucking and jacking him off.
"Oh, man, Bill, that feels so good. Oh, your mouth feels so good on my dick. Yeah, stick your finger up my ass. Fuck, that feels good, man."
Bill took that as encouragement to go a little further. He started sucking on Patrick's hot ass, alternating between fucking him with his finger and sticking his tongue deep into Patrick's wet hole. He could feel Patrick's body start to tense up and he knew that Patrick was getting close.
"Come on, Pat, let me fuck you a little bit. You're gonna like it, I'm sure."
"I don't know man. I've never been fucked by a guy before. I'm not sure I would --"
Patrick couldn't even finish his sentence because Bill started sucking on his dick again. Bill could taste Patrick's oozing pre-cum the more he sucked. He kept working his finger around Patrick's ass, massaging his prostate and caressing his balls at the same time. He inserted a second finger into Patrick's ass, and really started fingering him hard. As he heard Patrick moan louder and louder, he knew that Patrick was ready to get fucked.
He stopped sucking on Patrick's dick and started eating his ass again. Pat was holding Bill's head in place now, moaning and squirming about on the bed. His body felt as if he were on fire, the pleasure was so intense. While Bill ate Patrick's ass, he reached down on the side of his bed for his jeans. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a condom. Without Patrick noticing, Bill put the condom on. By now he was alternating between fingering Patrick hard with two fingers and rimming Pat's hot ass.
"Oh, man, Bill! Fuck! Fuck that feels good! Yeah, jam those fingers up my ass! Oh, fuck that feels so fucking good!" Patrick was a lot louder than he intended to be, but he was lost in the moment right now. He couldn't care less who heard him.
Bill took the opportunity to get into Patrick's hot ass. He slid up Patrick's body as if to kiss him, holding Patrick's legs over his shoulder. Without using his hands, Bill slid his six-and-a-half inch dick slowly into Patrick's ass.
"Oh, man, Bill, that fucking hurts, man! I can't man! Ah, fuck that hurts!"
Bill ignored Patrick's cries and kissed him hard on the mouth. He started jacking Patrick's dick off hard, while he started pumping slowly in and out of Patrick's tight ass hole. He could feel Patrick involuntarily trying to squeeze Bill's dick out of his ass, which created an incredible amount of pressure of Bill's throbbing cock. It felt great.
"Relax, Pat, relax. You're gonna like it, trust me. Just like you liked my fingers up your ass, you're gonna like this. I'm gonna go slow at first. Soon it'll start to feel good and you'll be begging me to give it to you hard. Just try to relax. Don't try to push me out. Just breathe and relax. You'll love it."
Patrick tried to do what Bill was saying, but it just hurt so fucking back. He could feel Bill pushing deeper and deeper into his ass hole. He didn't think that it would feel like this to get fucked. He always thought it would feel... different.
Bill continued to push in slowly on Patrick's ass for a few minutes. Soon he was in Patrick's ass all the way to the hilt. Patrick's ass was so tight it felt amazing. Patrick stopped grunting and contorting his face, so Bill assumed that it didn't hurt as much anymore. He started pushing in deeper and harder.
Patrick didn't know when it happened, but suddenly the pain wasn't as intense as it was at the start. He still felt the pressure of Bill's dick up his ass, but now he just felt full. He could feel Bill hit a certain spot inside him that made his own dick twitch. He was starting to go erect again. Bill started to push in harder and harder, and Patrick was starting to like it. The harder Bill's thrusts were, the better it felt.
"Fuck, that feels good. Oh, man, fuck my ass! Yeah, Bill, give it to me hard!"
Per his request, Bill started slamming his dick into Patrick's ass hard. His thrusts were so violent that the bed springs were squeaking and Patrick's head was thumping against the wall. He could feel Patrick's hard dick pressed against his stomach as he fucked him. Bill loved the sound of fucking; he was turned on by the sound of his balls slapping against Patrick's ass. He was slamming his dick into Patrick as hard and as fast as he could. Patrick's eyes were rolled up in the back of his head, and he couldn't even close his mouth. All he did was let out a chain of moans. He didn't know getting his ass slammed could feel this good.
Bill and Patrick changed positions so that Bill was standing up while he fucked Patrick, who was bent over the edge of his bed. Patrick was gripping the sheets with his face buried in the pillow. Bill had one had on the back of Patrick's neck, forcing his head down into the bed, and the other hand was pressing Patrick's hips down and into place, while Bill pistoned his tumid cock in and out of Patrick's erstwhile virgin ass. Patrick wasn't even jacking himself off, but his stiff cock was smearing the sheets with his pre-cum.
"Hey, Pat, turn over. I wanna fuck you on your back some more. I wanna see your face as I fuck your ass raw." Patrick was more than happy to oblige as he turned himself over without Bill's dick coming out of his ass. This was quite the opposite of what Patrick expected to happen. He wouldn't have thought that this small guy would be such an aggressive fucker. Patrick definitely didn't think that he was going to be the one getting fucked today, and after the way things had started, he certainly didn't think it would feel this good.
Once Patrick was laying on his back again, Bill started fucking him hard and fast again. He kept alternating strokes from long, slow and deep, to short, quick and shallow. It was the short, quick jackrabbit strokes that Patrick seemed to like the best. The feeling of Bill's dick deep in his ass, quickly pounding away at his prostate, coupled with the sound of Bill's balls slapping his ass rapidly, was all too much for him.
"Mmm... yeah," Patrick panted, "Oh... mmm... yeah... fuck me. Fuck me hard. Oh... fuck yeah, Bill. Mmm... I'm coming! Oh, fuck, I'm coming! Ah! Fuck my ass and make me cum! Oh, yeah!" Without touching his dick, Patrick started to shoot rope after rope of his creamy, milky jizz. The first two shots were shallow ones, splattering Patrick's bellybutton. The third and forth shots, as Patrick's orgasm peaked and his shouts of ecstasy increased in volume, arced high and splattered Patrick on the lips and on his neck. The last two shots landed on Patrick's chest.
As Patrick kept quivering with the force of his orgasm, Bill kept up the speed of his thrusts. Patrick's dick was still hard and Bill could feel Pat's ass still squeezing his dick. Even though his teammate had come already, Bill wasn't close yet. He kept on fucking Pat. Hard.
"Pat, I need to fuck you some more. I'm not close yet. I'm gonna keep fucking you hard, baby. Fuck, your tight ass feels good!"
Patrick's dick didn't even go soft and he started to jack himself off some more. He was still horny and was enjoying the feeling of getting his ass slammed. Bill seemed to be built to fuck, and his dick was finding that spot in Patrick's ass that was just driving him wild. The diminutive place kicker seemed to have the sexual appetite of three men. He certainly had the stamina to match.
Bill kept up his thrusts for another fifteen minutes. He alternated positions again and started fucking Patrick from behind. Patrick was steadily pulling on his dick -- he hadn't even wiped the cum off himself from the first orgasm -- and he started to come a second time. His second orgasm seemed as powerful as the first, and this time Patrick felt every muscle in his body tense and he felt he was going to die from the intensity of it all.
"Fuck, Bill, I'm fucking coming again!" Patrick panted as he started to shoot his second load in twenty minutes. This one wasn't as large as the first one, but in three shots Patrick made a considerable cum-stain on his bed sheets.
Feeling Patrick's ass clamp down on his cock again was too much for Bill. He pumped three more hard thrusts into Patrick's ass and then buried his cock deep inside, shooting his cum into the condom. He felt his legs go weak and he collapsed on top of Patrick, the two of them a heap of sweat and muscles on the bed.
As his orgasm subsided, Bill grabbed the base of his dick and eased his dick out of Patrick's ass, making sure that he kept his fingers around the ring of the condom so that it didn't come off inside Patrick. He threw the cum-filled condom into the garbage can next to the bed and collapsed on top of Patrick again. The two of them fell soundly asleep within minutes.
That was how they became friends. ====================
Bill and Patrick stood in the middle of a swank gay bar, Patrick nursing a beer, and Bill working on a Tequila Sunrise. Even though Patrick and Bill fooled around a lot at first, in the months that followed, their relationship grew and they became more of brothers and confidantes. Having sex with each other just became awkward. So, Bill found a little gay district in the next county, and this was a sweet little bar to frequent on the weekend. They were both horny, and they were looking for a good hook-up.
He caught both their eyes at the same time.
He casually strolled into the bar. He was very poised, statuesque. He was at least 6'4", and his body was long and lean. He was dressed in a jet black Versace jacket and pant suit, paired with a silver shirt and silver herringbone chain. He wore a floor-length overcoat and pristine Italian leather shoes. He was definitely more sophisticated than the other men in the bar.
He entered with a man and a woman in tow, the man a shorter 6'1", but much stockier; the woman was striking at 5'11" with near platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was wearing tight Banana Republic khaki capri pants, with brown knee-high stiletto leather boots. She wore a chocolate-colored blouse with the first three buttons undone, revealing her black bra. On top of it all, she wore a brown leather jacket. The other man was dressed in urban wear, wearing an Enyce sweater-tee and blue Rocawear jeans over camel-colored Timberland boots. He was just as striking as the woman. His head was shaved, and his caramel-colored skin was offset by his grey eyes. The trio walked in the room and crossed over to the bar. They were either oblivious to the stares of all the men in the bar, or they were pretending not to notice.
"I want the one in the overcoat!" Bill and Patrick said in tandem. They looked at each other and began to laugh. They never quarreled over the same guy; the rule was whoever called it first was the one that got to pursue. In this case, they said it at the same time.
"Heads or tails?" Bill asked, pulling a quarter from his pocket.
"What?"
"Heads... or... tails?" Bill asked again, enunciating every word, as if he were speaking to a small child.
"Oh, don't start that shit. Look, if you want him, you go and talk to him. Besides, you're probably more his type than I am, anyway."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, Bill, I'm sure."
"You're sure that you're sure, right? Because if this is one of those things where I'm supposed to say, 'No, you go take him', I'm not going to do that. So, if you really want him, say so."
"Bill, go over there and talk to him before someone else does. Go!" Before Patrick could even finish the sentence, Bill was already on his way to the other side of the bar where the trio stood. Patrick laughed out loud as Bill gently pushed someone out of the way. The man was irked; clearly he had been on his way to talk to the same guy Bill was going to talk to. But before he could really start to protest, Bill had already approached the stallion in black.
"Excuse me, can I buy you guys a drink?" Bill asked the trio.
"Well, I don't know about my two friends here; they were just leaving. This place is a little too crowded for them. But you're more than welcome to buy me a drink." The man's voice was low and deep, almost melodic. Bill looked into the taller man's eyes -- they were dark like opal, but they had a certain sparkle, almost a glow to them. His skin was olive-toned; it seemed as if he were from the Mediterranean. Perhaps he was Italian, or maybe even Greek. The man's jet black hair was cut short, but it was neatly styled. There was not a hair out of place on his head. Even his eyebrows and goatee were perfectly maintained. He was absolutely stunning. Bill was enamored with his chiseled good looks.
"So, Mr...?" Bill began.
"Damien. My name is Damien."
"Damien. That name seems to suit you. I'm Bill. So, Damien, where are you from?"
"Not around here. As a matter of fact," Damien said, taking a sip from the extra dry martini Bill bought him, "I don't think I'm from any place that you've heard of."
"Well, that's not entirely possible. I mean, I could probably guess where you are from."
"Really? Well, I doubt it. Most people try, but very few can guess where I'm from. But I like to play games. This should be fun. How many guesses would you like?"
"Well, I'll make just one guess. But, will you allow me to ask a few questions?"
"How many is a few?"
"Oh, let's make it fun. Let's say, five questions? I'll bet that I can guess where you're from after five questions."
"Sounds interesting. What's the wager, then, Bill?"
Bill smiled mischievously. "Hmm, well, let me think." He pretended to be thinking hard on what an appropriate wager would be. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to be too forward too soon. He needed to test the waters.
"Okay, well let me make it a little easier for you, Bill. I know what I want if you should lose. And I'm not going to say anything stupid like you buying me another drink. I know what I want and I go for it. Do you think you're up to it?"
"Well, this is my idea. I'm not afraid of a little pressure, and I'm not afraid to lose. So, if -- and I stress the word 'if' -- if I should lose, what you want, Damien?" Bill smiled to himself. He knew this guy was flirting with him, and he was more than happy to play the game. He took another sip from his Tequila Sunrise.
"You."
Bill nearly choked. There was something almost unnerving about how direct Damien was with his response. He was looking Bill dead in the eye, and there was no waiver in either his focus or his voice when he said it.
"Me?"
"Yes. You. If you can't guess where I'm from, I get you." Once again, no waiver.
Bill chuckled nervously. This was tantalizing and unnerving all at the same time. Bill was definitely aroused at the thought of Damien having him, but there was something odd about how direct Damien was with his words.
"Okay, then, Damien, what should I get if I win?"
"That's for you to choose. I have made my choice if you lose. If you win, what would you like?"
"Oh, I don't know. Let me think."
"You must have some idea. If you could have anything I could give you, what would it be?"
"Well, that's a bit expansive, don't you think, Damien?"
"And what if I was? Look, Bill, life is short. You were very direct just a minute ago by coming over here and asking to buy me a drink. Clearly you saw something that you wanted and that prompted you to come over here. That was a very ballsy thing to do, wouldn't you say? I mean, you assumed that I was gay, for one, you assumed that I would be attracted to you, for two, and then you assumed that I would welcome your company, for three. Those are bold assumptions, and look how they have paid off. You've started to play the game, why play the role of temerity now? If you win, what do you want? My clothes? My jewelry? My body? What?"
Bill stared at Damien for a moment, trying to get a read on him. Was this guy for real? This had gone beyond casual flirting. Damien was downright aggressive. This could either be fun, or Bill could be in over his head. It was a gamble that could have a big payoff or a big loss.
"Life's a gamble, my friend. Are you willing to play the game?" Damien asked, as if he were picking the thoughts from Bill's mind.
Bill was never one to back down from a challenge. Damien had thrown down the gauntlet, and he was daring Bill to cross it.
"All right, Damien," Bill said, that sly smile of his returning, "If I win, I'll own you for the rest of the night. You'll buy me whatever I want, you'll do whatever I want, when I want it, and how I want it. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Damien smiled, sipping his martini. "You have five questions. Ask wisely."
"Is English your first language?"
"No."
"What languages do you speak?"
"I speak six languages: Spanish, French, English, Italian, German and Russian. To be fair, I have a working knowledge of Japanese and Portuguese."
"Is that your natural complexion and hair color?"
Damien chuckled. "In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Is your country near a large body of water, like a sea or an ocean?"
"No."
"Hmm... I think I've got you narrowed down. The answer to this question should let me know. I need to eliminate one of the continents from contention. Are you from South America?"
"No, I am not. All right, Bill, you've asked your five questions. It's time to show your hand: Where am I from?"
"The only way that you would know that many languages is if you were from someplace where running into a different language on a daily basis was commonplace. The only places like that in the world are in Africa, Asia, Europe and South America. I'm assuming that you are neither of African or Asian decent, and you have just said that you are not from South America. That leaves Europe. Given your skin tone, that would lead me to believe you were from Southern Europe, perhaps near the Mediterranean sea. I would guess Sardinia, but that would really isolate you from the rest of Europe. I wouldn't guess anywhere in the Croatia/Yugoslavia region, because you didn't list any slavic languages. That also leaves Greece and Turkey out of play. I would say Italy, but you said that your country isn't near any large body of water. That also eliminates Spain, France and Germany, too. You don't look like you'd be from the Ukraine, so my best guess is that you are from Belgium. Given your complexion, however, I would still guess that your parents were not Belgian decent, but rather that Belgium was merely the place where you were born. Am I right?"
"That is a very well-thought guess, and off only five questions, too. I am very impressed. But, I am not from Belgium. If I were, I would have listed Dutch as one of my languages spoken, as it is the official language of Belgium. But, still, that is most impressive deduction. Yet, you lose. You're mine."
"Well, are you going to tell me where you're from?"
Damien smiled. "No. I am not."
"Oh, come on, where's the fun in that? I should at least get to know how far off I was."
"To be honest, Bill, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. But, perhaps I shall tell you before the night is over. Now, about collecting on this bet..."
"Yes, yes, I'm yours. Do with me as you will. Just let me go and tell my buddy over there about me losing this bet. I've got to be back on campus by tomorrow. I've got football practice."
"You play football, Bill? That's surprising. You don't strike me as a football player."
"I'm the place kicker."
"Ah. I see. I don't get into sports that much, so it's all the same to me. You just didn't seem to fit the mold of stereotypical football jock."
"Yeah, if I had a dime for every time I heard that..."
"You would be a wealthy man?"
"Not if I was dumb enough to only collect dimes every time I heard that," Bill said, laughing. Damien smiled graciously.
"Well, Bill, run off and tell your friend that you'll be back in an hour or two. You're coming with me. Are you up to it?"
Bill looked Damien up and down and imagined what this stud looked like naked. He knew that Damien was going to fuck him, and he hoped that Damien had a horse cock to fuck him hard with. He ran over to Patrick to tell him that he was going to leave for a bit.
"Well, that didn't take long at all," Patrick teased. "What did you do, say, 'Hi. I'm Bill. Wanna fuck?'"
"No, I didn't, you ass. Actually, I thought it was going to take a lot more work than it did. He's actually kind of aggressive. I just lost a bet. He says I'm his for the next hour or two. I can only imagine what that entails."
Patrick glanced down at Bill's blue jeans, and saw that his cock was already hard.
"Yeah, I'll bet you can," Patrick said, grabbing Bill's hard dick. "Go get 'em, tiger."
With that, Bill made his way across the bar again to where Damien was standing. Patrick saw Bill gesture his way while talking to Damien, and then he saw Damien look at his watch. Damien nodded and said something to Bill, and then he threw some money on the counter. Patrick saw Bill say something in protest, but Damien held up his hand, obviously not heeding Bill's objections. Damien threw his arm around Bill's shoulder and led Bill through the crowd toward the exit. As Damien and Bill made their way toward the door, Damien turned to Patrick suddenly and smiled. Patrick jumped a little and felt a chill run down his spine.
He could've sworn he saw Damien's eyes glow.