0 comments/ 81051 views/ 16 favorites Bobby's Tale By: desertmac Hi! I'm desertmac, and I want to give you a little setup for this story. It is a vignette from a novel I'm writing made up of vignettes linked together, about a group of teens who hang out at a game room called Kelly's Cue. This is the shortest of the vignettes, and they cover more than just the sexuality of these guys, with several storylines going all the while; so, this story might be a little different than you expect-- though it stands on its own-- and characters from other parts of the story are mentioned here, but not explained or described. This is my first submission to Literotica, I'm a virgin to this voting thing... so I'll see how it goes, lol. This story has: MM, group, drug use, and violence that is not sexual. I suppose I should look up the codes for those, lol. This particular vignette is completely from my imagination. Disclaimers: This story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced or sold or charged for in any way shape or form without my express written consent. If it is illegal for you to read this for age or where you are, or if your delicate sensibilities are offended by explicit depictions of gay sex, then get the fuck outta here, ya stupid Bitch! Everyone else, enjoy! EXCERPT FROM: CITIZENS OF KELLEY'S CUE You all knew guys like me back in high school: the social misfit, pretty much blending into the background. I was quiet most of the time, because I knew that most of the crap that came out of my mouth when I did talk was just plain annoying to people. This had been reinforced constantly over my eighteen years, pretty much anytime I talked to more than one person at a time; with snide retorts and rolled eyes that were meant for me to see. So I had a self imposed gag order that was, unfortunately, forgotten whenever I got fucked up. 'People skills' is what they call it, and is what I didn't have. So I mostly just tried to keep my mouth shut. Being socially inept, and nothing special in the looks department-- not at all ugly or anything, just average I guess-- on top of only living about a year so far here in LaPorte, southeast of Houston; I didn't have what you'd call a full social calendar. Ok, well, I was 5'11", around #140, with brown hair and brown eyes. My body was trim and fairly fit, though I played no sports. I was just average, hard to picture just because it's actually hard to picture anyone so average, isn't it? My best friend was Jimmy Small, which he wasn't. He was only sixteen, chubby, bordering on fat, and just as socially inadequate as I was; so we got along great. I discovered Kelly's Cue, the game room/poolhall that was the center of our universe, right after I moved here from Tulsa with my family last year. It became my home away from home. And it wasn't like I was a total outcast or nothing; nobody was hateful toward me in general. They all knew my name and all; they just didn't notice me much when I wasn't irritating them. I did everything I could to fit in and be un upstanding citizen of Kelly's Cue. I grew my hair as long as my folks would allow-- a little past my collar-- and smoked pot and did other drugs on those occasions I was able to tag along when there was something available. At least I had some money to spend, and that gets you included in some things, and you can bribe your way into other things. I played a pretty decent game of foosball, too. I had been gradually realizing something was wrong with me. And that something was: I had a thing for boys. I had tried like hell to ignore it, but found that impossible. The more I tried to ignore it, the stronger the urges got. I fought, debated, and reasoned with myself all through my seventeenth year-- having nightly raw, steamy fantasies about guys the whole time. By the time I was eighteen, I was just starting to accept and feel ok about how guys turned me on, when one fateful night changed my life in ways I couldn't possibly have anticipated. It was early in that momentous summer of 1977, a steambath of a Texas summer night in the suburbs of the polluted boomtown, close to the Houston Ship Channel and Galveston Bay, where LaPorte, Pasadena and Deer Park all come together at a smoky pool hall... I'd been hangin' at Kelly's on a really slow evening, playing foosball with a kid called Skunk, when Jimmy Small came in and told me there was a party at Kevin Landry's house-- and most importantly, he could get us a ride with Donald Dryer. Donald was pretty cool like that. He didn't seem to play the 'I'm cooler than thou' game like most people. Now Kevin Landry was what you call white trash. Jimmy called him a thug. Yeah, probably a majority of us would be considered white trash, or lower middle class at best; even though we mostly lived in brand new houses. Where else would you see bumper stickers all over town that said, "Oilfield Trash And Proud Of It!" even on Cadillac's and the like? It was a point of pride for the locals. But he and his clan walked the walk and talked the talk. The cool thing about his family though, was that you could get away with anything at their house. It was hopelessly trashed out from raising the six wild delinquent boys of drunk parents who had given in long ago. Plus, with the occasional wife or girlfriend of this or that brother, and their spawn, you couldn't really find anything that hadn't already been damaged-- except their stereos, and GOD HELP YOU if you fucked with their usually battling stereos! His parents always passed out around eight, on valium and beer, and couldn't be roused by anything less than a 'category three' hurricane until 5am. Kevin was near the top of my pantheon of guys I fantasized about regularly. He could easily have been number one if I'd been around him more. He was wired, violent, hot headed and sexy as hell; which scared me enough to steer clear of him most of the time, but kept me intrigued and salivating over him for some of those same reasons. He'd been in jail more than once, just like all of his older brothers had. The one I'd never seen was doing fifteen years in Huntsville State Penitentiary for aggravated armed robbery. The 'aggravated' part was that the clerk resisted, so he pistol whipped him so bad-- after he gave him the money-- that the guy had to have reconstructive surgery. One of his brothers had cut off another brother's ear in a fight one time and they'd had it sewn back on. That was the kind of family they were. But if anyone outside the family fucked with any one of them, he had to deal with all of 'The Landry Boys', as they were known to the law and others. Kevin, at eighteen, was next to youngest; and ALL of his brothers I'd seen were fucking gorgeous! Even their dad was a hot looking man. Their mom just looked worn out; but you could see the remnants of a once beautiful woman behind the hard drinkin', hard livin' lines of her face from one too many honkey tonk nights. In fact, Kevin was probably the least good looking of the bunch, and he was still fucking gorgeous! He had short, curly, nearly platinum blonde hair streaked with gold and a hint of copper, silvery gray eyes and stood about six-one, I guess. I just compared him to my five-eleven. And he had dark lashes and eyebrows streaked with that platinum blonde for a dazzling effect that really turned me on. His skin was perpetually tanned a translucent bronze that can't be adequately described. He was slender and wiry-- but not skinny-- with broad shoulders and muscular tattooed arms. He was a hound dog from hell, ALWAYS talking pussy. All the time, non-stop. The only things he ever talked about besides pussy were drugs, cars and fighting. The most surprising thing about Kevin was that he had just graduated high school; as every one of his brothers had dropped out, including the younger one, sixteen year old Peter, who was, of course, also gorgeous... well, beautiful. I say 'beautiful' because he wasn't much like his brothers. Where they were all tall, with platinum hair and light features like Kevin, he was shorter and had brown hair and eyes. Where his brothers were all similarly hyper-masculine, hot headed and prone to violence, Peter was nearly the opposite, soft spoken, quiet and kind—and a talented artist. And contrary to what you'd expect from their contempt for any sign of 'weakness', and the way they treated each other, they were all very protective of him, and never picked on him. So anyway, their house was kind of a hangout, and I'd been there four times. It was over in Spinwick, the only older housing division in the middle of long expanses of cow pastures, with a few trailers, but mostly wood frame houses up on cement blocks, like Kevin's. We showed up at Kevin's around ten, but there wasn't really much of a party going on, compared to the blow-outs some guys had. There was booze and pot, and Billy West had sold most everyone a Quaalude or two, but it was just about fifteen guys, sitting around the living room talking over the stereo. Kevin and his next oldest brother Stan, were jousting to be the center of attention. Mark and Peter, the other two brothers living at home at that time, weren't there that night. Stan was, as I said, even more gorgeous than Kevin, and all of Kevin's friends were easily drawn to the sexy, shirtless twenty year old on the rare occasion he'd treat the 'youngsters' like they were somebody worth talking to. He only did so when he was bored and wanted to drive Kevin insane by taking away his friends for the moment, obviously getting great satisfaction at how easy it was to do. This kind of competition was what Kevin dealt with every day of his life at home, and everyone sitting there was acutely aware that it could erupt in a serious fight at any given moment. Billy sold me, Jimmy and Aaron a Quaalude each, and I bought his last one for Donald, as thanks for the ride. We set about to party and mine began to hit as I drank some gross gin and coke. I started talking too loud and being stupid, getting a few of those annoyed looks and curt comments from others, coming dangerously close to really pissing Kevin off at one point-- so I shut my mouth. I hung back on the edge of the group and just watched everyone for a while. Jimmy and I weren't included in the bong passing circle; and just as well. I didn't need it. But things like that get to me anyway. It just rubs it in that we're not part of the group, ya know? The conversation had degenerated to the see-who-can-'dis'-the-other-best stage, everyone roaring with laughter as they traded insults with each other. At times like that, I was glad to be invisible. I slipped out to go pee, staggering into the bathroom at the far end of the long house, feeling no pain, kinda floating. I was just about through, when Kevin came in and pushed his way in beside me. "Move over, pussy," he mumbled drunkenly, shouldering me to one side. That stung; until I realized he would likely have said it to anyone standing there. The very last of my piss stream was interrupted and I strained to get it back while trying to think of a comeback to him that wouldn't piss him off. I could think of nothing. "Why you always go talkin' shit, Bobby, pissin' people off." He threw me an annoyed glance while he fumbled with his jean buttons. I knew there was no way I'd be able to finish that last bit of pee if he pulled out his dick in front of me. I could never pee in front of anyone I thought was hot. But not wanting Kevin Landry mad at me was of paramount concern, so I tried to smooth it over. "Aw man, Kevin, I'm sorry I'm so fuckin' stupid sometimes. I just open my mouth and stupid shit comes out, ya know? I didn't mean anything by it, dude." He had pulled his dick out by the time I finished saying that and I stared at it. I was so fucked up I wasn't aware I was staring. He was starting to respond to what I said, and surprised me by putting his arm around my shoulder, looking down to watch his own piss stream starting. "Shit, man, y'know, ya always seem to say the wrong thing, bro'. How you come up with the shit you do all the time, I don't..." he trailed off as he looked up and saw me staring at his dick. I could tell in my peripheral vision that he looked at my face. That made me snap that I was staring, and I quickly trained my eyes on my own dick, which was just hanging there, starting to fill out a little. I'm pretty sure a smile appeared on his face-- but couldn't be positive of that. I blushed so deeply I could see it in my arms. His dick was fat, really fat. I'd never seen such a fat dick; and I was pretty good at checking out dicks in locker rooms and urinals without getting caught. The second I felt mine start filling out, I shook it and stuffed it back into my pants before it could embarrass me. Kevin still had his arm around my shoulder, and didn't let me move away when I started to back up. "Hang on, bro', I need ya to help hold me up while I finish." He sounded more fucked up than he had a moment ago. His 'bro' was always said with the 'o' sounding like a small 'u' just like you say in brother if you say the whole word, rather than a long 'o' sound. I didn't argue with him, as I didn't want to piss him off any more. I was scared shitless that he'd caught me staring at his dick. I began praying he wouldn't beat the shit out of me and tell everyone I was a fag. I knew he hated fags, 'cause he called anyone he didn't like a fag. I thought my best defense would be to say I was too fucked up and didn't even know I was looking. But that wouldn't guarantee I'd get off the hook. Even if that worked, there would certainly be no escaping the joking and teasing harrassment that would come with it tonight-- which would be hard to take, knowing I was a fag. I was extremely careful that not even a hint of 'gayness' ever be associated with me, even in joking. I wanted to leave as quickly as possible, but I was dependent on Donald for a ride. Kevin must have peed a gallon, while I stared up at the cracked and peeling paint on the wall in front of me. Oddly out of place, was an eight by ten framed, faded and water stained print of a Rockwell, Saturday Evening Post cover of two boys taking a bath. Was there ever a time when this family even vaguely resembled Norman Rockwell's imagery? I seriously doubted it. This wasn't Rockwell's America; this was the nitty gritty dirt base of the real America. When I heard the last dribbles fall in the water, I looked down to see him grasp the counter edge on his other side and sway. "Oh man, I'm so fucked up I can't even maintain. Why don't ya shake it for me, bro'?" "Huh?" I looked at him like he was insane. He forced my eyes down to his dick as he looked at it. "C'mon, Bobby, help a brother out, man. Shake it for me." He made it sound purely utilitarian, strictly a casual thing, like there could be no recriminations from it, as he wobbled around just a little too dramatically. It had filled out some since I'd been looking up at the wall. It was even fatter and was now hanging about five inches over his zipper. I stared at the delicious looking tool and tried to figure out how to respond to his request. "Fuck you, Kevin!" was the best I could do. He pleaded with me, "Come on, Bobby, don't be a shit, maaan. I'd do it for you if you was this fucked up, bro'." He pulled his head back and looked askance at me, "What, you don't like me or somethin'? You don't wanna be my friend? Well fuck you then, bitch!" He started to slowly remove his arm from my shoulder, acting all indignant. My mind was moving slow. It took a moment for what he said to soak in. When I finally processed it, I panicked. The last thing in the world I wanted was to have Kevin Landry as an enemy. I would rather eat ground glass than make him hate me. He got way too much pleasure out of terrorizing anyone he considered an enemy. "What? NO, man! I've always liked you, Kevin!" I was frantic to correct this, momentarily forgetting what he was asking me to do. "Why would you think I don't like you?" He smiled at how his ploy worked-- me totally uncomprehending-- and put his arm back around my shoulder, draping it around my neck and pulling me closer into his side, "Well ya wouldn't help a brother out, an' ya told me to fuck off. I'd say that pretty much says ya don't like me. I mean, what's a brother t' think?" He smiled the whole time, while I absorbed the body heat from his armpit on my shoulder. "No dude, it's not like that at all! I just thought you were fuckin' with me, you know." I glanced down at his dick, which was now filled out significantly, but not hard. It was beautiful, hanging out his fly, all meaty, beauty, big and bouncy. I wanted to touch it soooo badly. The erection I'd been fighting in my jeans went ahead and finished embarrassing me by stretching it's full six and three eighths inches-with-the-ruler-on-top, sideways across my hip; with me praying he didn't notice it. "So ya do like me then?" It was more like a challenge than a question. I nodded and he glanced down at his dick and back up to me. "Well then, go ahead an' shake it for me, bro'. I'm sooo fucked up." He rolled his head a little to illustrate his plight. He looked into my eyes and I thought I saw some kind of spark in there behind the glassy stare. It seemed like he was wanting to instigate some kind of sex with me, but I couldn't be sure. The thought was both exciting and terrifying. I was scared as hell, fucked up, paranoid of him, and thrilling at the thought of touching his big dick, all at the same time. All I could think of at the time was, 'If this is the only way to keep him liking me...' And with my inhibitions substantially lowered, I just went ahead and did it. Blame the Quaalude, blame the booze, I was afraid to piss him off, I was stupid, whatever. I reached over and cautiously took hold of it between my thumb and index finger about halfway up the shaft and gave it a shake. It was as heavy as it looked, and touching it set off all kinds of shit in my body and mind. I still don't know why I crossed that hazy little line, but I went ahead and gripped it with my whole hand, shaking it a little, then more vigorously. I couldn't believe how fantastic his rapidly hardening dick felt in my hand. I watched the wrinkles in the loose skin steadily disappear, and felt the veins and ridges become pronounced as it filled out, thrilling me like I'd never been thrilled. I was about to let it go, when he calmly said, "Keep goin' there, bro', I dribble a lot." He smiled at me; but the look in his eyes was sly, like: 'I got you figured out. Now let me see what I can get out of this.' I should have considered that look and stopped right there; but I already had his dick in my hand, had already shook it for him, and he was just telling me to finish what I'd started. He was almost fully hard now, with my hand gripping the pulsing shaft, making me blush and rush. His dick was shooting electrical charges up my arm and down to my groin, stopping by to give my sense of judgement a lobotomy on the way. My ears were burning and I knew I wasn't concealing either my excitement or my fear well at all. And I knew I was committing a heinous social crime, and common sense told me if this went wrong, it would be very, very bad-- and it scared the shit out of me. But I went ahead and shook it some more. It wouldn't flop around like it had, since it was pretty hard now; so I let it go and tapped it with my fingertips for good measure. "There. I think that's got it," I tried to sound detached or professional, like some nurse or something, while avoiding his eyes. Then I got brave, looked up at him and added, with a hollow threat implied in my voice, "You better not make anything of this, Kevin." Bobby's Tale He didn't even blink. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling it back to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it for me. "That felt good, bro'. Why don't ya squeeze the last couple a drops out for me?" Oh my God. I didn't react, didn't resist, didn't want to do this; but I did want to do this; but I knew I shouldn't do this, shouldn't let him manipulate me into doing this. I couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking. I didn't know if he was trying to come on to me for real, or play me so he could humiliate me and ruin my life. I got the feeling he'd smile that same smile either way. I stared at his face with my jaw hanging open, unable to react, rushing like hell, scalp tingling. He worked my hand back and forth on his cock and leaned his head in close to mine, forehead to forehead as we looked down at his hand on my hand on his cock, "Come on, Bobby, stroke it!" he stage whispered. He nodded down at my tented jeans and said, "I can see yer gettin' off to it, so go ahead an' stroke it, bro'." He smiled what he thought was an encouraging smile. I saw it more like a shark's smile. I thought of Jaws. I was all but hyperventilating, wobbling around a little. But as wary as I was of his motivations, I was simply unable to refuse the first cock I'd ever held in my hand besides my own. And that it was a really big and thick one at, easily, a good eight inches, attached to this sexy, dangerous guy on my 'most wanted' list, made it hard to listen to my own logic, as it sent jolt after jolt of excitement and pleasure through my circuits, over-riding the warnings in my head. But I finally snapped and jerked my hand away, blushing beet red and trembling. "Uhhh... I gotta..." I mumbled and rolled out from under his arm, "...get back in there." I couldn't believe I had just played with Kevin Landry's dick! In his own bathroom! With all these people in the house! OH FUCK! My life is over. He's going to go back out there and have a big belly laugh as he tells everyone how Bobby Wheaton, the f-a-g, just played with his dick over the toilet. And of course, in the telling, it will have been me groping for it without any prompting from him, I'm sure. He kept his hand on my shoulder as I tried to get past him to leave the room, "Hey, Bobby, mellow out, dude. It's no big dope deal, Bro'." He half turned and looked into my eyes, smiling that sexy smile again, "How 'bout we go party in my room-- just you 'n me." I was too freaked out to respond. Well, I guess the sheer terror in my eyes was a response of sorts. I whipped around to make my escape and tripped over the little fuzzy rug. I went down and hit my forehead smack on the edge of the partly open door. The lights went out for a second, and I wished they had stayed out longer. It fucking hurt like hell. I had expected Quaaludes and booze would have made it not hurt, but it damn sure did. Kevin quickly came down on one knee to see how I was, "Whoa, bro'! You ok?! Oh man, that had to hurt! I think you dented the fuckin' door," he chuckled. "You ok?" He turned my head and inspected it. "Oh bro', yer gonna have a big fuckin' knot right here tomorrow," he poked my forehead right where I'd hit it and I winced. "OW! FUCK!" I pulled my head away from his touch and felt to see if I was bleeding or anything. Kevin adjusted himself onto both knees and I noticed his hard dick was still sticking out of his fly. I felt my own dick jerk back to life at the sight. With my hand on my growing knot and my head tilted down, he couldn't see my eyes, so I was able to stare at it. I forgot all about my throbbing injury as I stared at his big, enticing, fat dick. I wanted to suck on it so fucking bad! I don't know what he was thinking of, about that time, but his dick kept twitching and bouncing itself around. It wasn't losing any hardness, and he made no attempt to put it back in his pants; thereby keeping me mesmerized. He probably knew I was staring and was doing it on purpose. "You sure yer ok? Can ya see straight?" He took hold of his dick and aimed it at me, "How many dicks am I holding up?" He couldn't wait for my response; he busted a gut laughing and slumped against the sink cabinet. I tried to act pissed off, but busted up too. When he got over being impressed with his own wit, he started to stand up, moving his now dangling wonder closer to me in the process. He offered his hand and I pulled myself up by his flexing arm, inspecting his tattoos closely on the way. As soon as he could tell I was somewhat stable, he put my hand right back on his dick again. I jerked it away and snapped at him, "Cut that shit out, man!" As it roared back to hard almost instantly. He laughed oh-too-wisely and said, "You got just as much a boner as I do, bro'. Quit tryin' to act like ya don't like it when I can see ya do." He chuckled and jutted his pelvis forward, nudging my hip with the wide rose colored head. He tried to look in my eyes, but I refused. "I don't... I don't... Man, fuck that shit!" I gave it my most disgusted tone, "I ain't no fucking fag!" I started walking quickly down the hall, but he intercepted me halfway and pushed me up against the wall with brute strength, pinning my arms up and out from my sides, grinding his groin into mine with a big evil grin on his face. It was hard to think of him as the same age as me, being so much bigger and stronger. And he looked like he could be twenty or twenty-one easily. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, bro'..." He said, as if I were trying his patience. He followed my head with his to get me to look at him as I looked in every direction, steadfastly refusing eye contact as he breathed gin and coke into my face. "Ya can't hide how ya liked my dick, bro', so don't even try to pretend." He studied my face for a moment. "What, you scared I'm gonna tell anyone about this or somethin'? Ain't no fuckin' way, bro'!" He ground slowly and sensuously into my groin as he spoke. "Ain't no other reason for you to try an' pretend like you ain't likin' it." "I don't-- I don't know what you're talkin' about, Kevin. That's bullshit! Leave me-- let me go, dude!" I was beginning to freak now, feeling like some felon caught red-handed and up against the wall. And he STILL hadn't put his dick back in his pants! It was like he couldn't care less if anyone caught him with his hard dick out of his jeans, humping on me with it in his own fucking hallway! Anyone could have headed for the bathroom and seen us; and there was no way he could have gotten it back in his jeans before they saw it. "Bro', you're so into it yer about to cum in your pants! Quit trying to act like ya don't want it, Bobby." He was working his cock sensuously against my traitorous erection, and had now captured my eyes, making me feel like a little kid caught on a carnival ride I was too short for; wanting, needing to take the ride, but common sense telling me I could, and probably would, get hurt. I was so fucked up, so scared of his cocky smile and his brazen fearlessness and so turned on by his very aggressive sexiness, I was having a real problem breathing. I saw him gauging my resistance-- or lack of it-- at this point, and watched a smug little grin appear the moment he decided he had me. I felt my stomach flip-flop and my cock twitch; both despair and excitement flooding my drugged brain simultaneously. "Wait right here, bro'!" He stepped away and held his arms in a semi-circle around me to underscore that he didn't want me to move, "Don't move a fuckin' muscle!" he almost sounded threatening. "I'll be back in a flash." He looked down at his dick and grinned like an excited child. He somehow managed to stuff it back in and turned. He veered off into the kitchen at the head of the hallway. I noticed he seemed to walk just fine. I guess he, um, recovered from his wobbliness in the bathroom rather quickly. The rest of the group was beyond the dining room/NAPA auto parts depot, carrying on loudly over the stereo, not missing either of us, apparently. I was totally freaking out. I had fantasized and even prayed for something like this to happen; but it was going nothing like I had scripted. Mainly, I had no real idea how he viewed it, how he viewed me. But my imagination was going wild with images of him, now that I was thinking he had at least some inclination for some kind of guy to guy sex. But that train of thought was battling my glaring paranoia about his attitude and motivation. And both of those trains were being derailed every few seconds, as I'd remember how his big fat hot heavy squeezable dick felt in my hand. I had never been so turned on in my fucking life! He came back around the corner with a bottle of gin in one hand, and a pipe in the other. The carnivorous look in his eyes sent chills down my spine-- or it was just another drug rush, who knows? He walked past me and said, "C'mon," with authority in his voice. I followed him like a condemned man into his crowded bedroom. It was filthy and smelled like a cross between a beer joint and a locker room. There were dirty dishes on the tables and beer cans and bottles everywhere, sprinkled liberally with wadded up Jack In The Box bags among the dirty clothes and other junk. Neither his bed against a set of windows in the middle, with one busted out and boarded up, nor Stan's to the left against the wall, looked like the sheets hadn't been changed in months. He sat down on the left side facing Stan's bed and patted the stained sheet beside him for me to sit, then busied himself with digging out his stash to load the pipe. I sat down beside him, mostly because I was having a headrush that gave me no choice. I kept arguing with myself, asking over and over why the hell I was here, how could I be so stupid; while visualizing me sucking his big fat dick. He said nothing as he sparked up the ten dollar an ounce Mexican weed and handed it to me after a big hit. I sucked on it and held it in. He picked up the bottle of gin and chugged some, then handed it to me. "Chase it with this," he encouraged me. When I tipped the bottle up, he reached up and held the bottom to keep me chugging. "Yeah! Don't puss out, Bobby! Chug it!" So I did. I knew I shouldn't drink much, but I was so nervous and paranoid, I felt like I needed it really badly. On top of the Quaalude and what I'd already drank, the pot and gin had an instant effect, mellowing me out a lot; but not nearly all the way. We traded hits and chugs three more times, then he got up and wedged a wooden chair up under the door handle. He swaggered over and planted his feet apart in front of me as the room began to spin out of control. "I need ya to shake it s'more," he snickered, as he undid his buttons. "I think there's another drop in there ya missed." He let his somewhat baggy jeans fall to his ankles and made his semi hard cock sway side to side. I stared in awe and terror at it swinging menacingly, temptingly over his big hairy nuts. The pendulous schlong looked even bigger at eye level, with no jeans obscuring its wide base. He peeled his Blue Oyster Cult tee shirt over his head, kicked off his jeans and shoes and stood flexing in all his naked glory for me to drool over. And God, was he one to drool over! The baggy clothes he wore hid it, so I had never appreciated just how awesome his body was. It was male perfection that dreams and fantasies are made of. A body just didn't come built any better, nor a dick more impressive. He had very little body hair; dark coppery blonde around his groin, trailing silvery up his hard flat belly to his navel and lightly down his legs, and of course his armpits. There was a large tattoo of a dagger through a skull with blood dripping out the eye sockets on his perfectly sculpted left pec. I drank in the view with reverence, not quite believing this was all happening, and so fast. But it was happening!He was standing naked in front of me, telling me to play with his spectacular, already hard again dick. I was far too petrified to move a muscle, even though I already knew damn well I would do whatever he wanted me to do. He picked up on my inability to react and stepped in close to me, putting his dick within two inches of my mouth. I could smell a hint of an earlier shower, overpowered by summer sweat from his groin, and it was intoxicating. Very intoxicating. "Go ahead, Bobby, feel it," he urged me in a soothing tone as he put his hand on the back of my head, just holding it there. I reached up and tentatively touched his cock. Then I wrapped my fingers around it. They almost met. My heart had moved up into my head, and was pounding so hard and loud I could barely hear him. My mouth was dry as a bone and my hand was shaking so badly it was practically jerking him off in hyper-speed. Oh God his dick was awesome! He gave only the slightest pull on my head and I put the tip into my mouth, tasting the hot flesh and precum leaking from it. There was no turning back now, that was for sure. So I just went with it and started sucking my first cock. And I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful cock to suck. I eased his shaft slowly in, filling my mouth to overflowing, feeling it pulse on my tongue, tasting precum, tasting male flesh. I instantly knew that all the frustration and anguish I'd experienced for the last few years were justified. I hadn't had much doubt left by this time, but with that first taste, I knew for certain I was born to suck dick, and actually felt a sense of relief, of contentment, flowing over me. He moaned and started pumping, surprisingly gently, in and out of my hungry mouth. I lost all of my inhibitions and got more into it second by second. As I increased my enthusiasm and tempo, he did the same. Within a couple of minutes, he was fucking my face feverishly, moaning and grunting with each thrust. By then, my only frustration was that I couldn't get that fat thing all the way into my throat. I wanted to nuzzle my face in his pubes while gagging on his dick, but it was just too thick; and he was fucking my face too hard and fast to try relaxing my throat muscles to see if I could swallow it. He pulled out abruptly, tilted my head back and handed me the bottle. I poured the nasty no-label gin down my throat while he watched. He laughed and so did I. He took a drink himself and made me take another huge gulp. "Hey, you're fuckin' good at that, bro'!" He nodded his head, indicating my oral skills, not my gin chugging skills. His comment didn't register in my cocksucking dazed brain at that moment; and by then I was so fucked up I couldn't sit up any longer. I slumped back on the bed, wordlessly reaching for his dick. He laughed some more and crawled on up, straddling me, letting me grab the object of my desire and stuff it back in my mouth. He fell forward onto his fists and fed me his cock, heavy balls banging against my chin with every thrust. I looked up his taught, flexing belly, past his chest and saw him looking down at his shaft sliding in and out of my mouth. He smiled with pleasure. "Damn, Bobby. Man, it feels good." I smiled back with my eyes, thanking him for giving me what I'd been wanting for so long. I was in heaven. A bit too fucked up, but... I'll tell ya, lying there, with this extremely hot stud fucking my face with his huge dick was a thousand times hotter than any fantasy I'd ever had. After several minutes, he pulled out and moved off of me. I wondered why, upset that he'd taken my pacifier away. "Take yer clothes off," he ordered. Without a moments hesitation, I started undoing my jeans. He re-lit the pipe while I stripped. I had to really concentrate hard to coordinate my fingers. I glanced nervously at the door. Well, if he didn't worry about somebody catching us, then I figured I shouldn't either. The other voice in my head was ranting on and on about how stupid that thinking was. I didn't stop to think about why he wanted me to strip until after I was naked. Was he going to play with my dick-- or even suck it? I had a hard time picturing someone like him sucking on me, but was open for surprises. I sprawled sideways across the bed near the foot, facing him on his knees while he took a couple of hits off the pipe. I looked at him and thought, 'Goddamn! What a gorgeous, sexy man! He ain't no boy! I could love him. Even if he can't love me back, if he'll just let me suck his awesome dick sometimes, I'll be happy. God, I hope he'll keep this a secret. He should know he'll get it any time he wants it if he does! Surely he'll think of that?' Between hits, he looked down at his drooping cock, reached over and pulled my head toward it. "Suck on it," he ordered. So I did, avidly, greedily, for a minute or two. Then he pulled it out and held it up to his belly and said around the pipestem in his mouth, "Suck my balls." So I did, licking, sniffing them and grinding my face into the hairy, wrinkly sac. It struck me odd that I'd never thought about balls when I fantasized sex with guys, cuz I got extremely turned on by his big heavy, tasty lemons. I thought, 'I could suck and lick on these beauties all night long!' He interrupted me to give me a hit, but I pushed it away, "I don't need anymore," I mumbled and went back at it. He aimed the stem at my lips and said, "Sure ya do, bro'. Have another toke." So I did. He watched me, looking back and forth between my face and my raging, profusely drooling cock. "You really get off to suckin' dick, don't ya." He said as an observation, with no discernable negative to it... but still... I froze in the middle of my hit, coughed violently and rolled out on my back. Fuck! Why did he have to go and say something like that? Talk about a reality check. It started soaking into my brain just what I'd been doing-- or more accurately-- how much I'd obviously been loving it, how openly I'd shown him my hunger for dick. I was humiliated beyond comprehension and closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, to no avail. I couldn't put anything in perspective, being this fucked up and moving in completely unknown territory. Kevin was sharp enough to snap to my reaction, and smooth enough to work me for it. "Aw man, don't freak, bro'. It's our little secret, cool?" I glared at him with fear and anger, unable to speak, feeling like my world was shutting down, going out of business. He reached down and stroked my hair, sounding like a mom reassuring her child, "Don't be bummed out, Bobby. This is cool! We can get together like this whenever we wanna get our yaya's. It's not like I care if you like dick-- I'm glad ya do!" He reached over and pushed the bottle into my hands. "Drink!" "I don't want any more," I said flatly, scowling. "Drink!" he commanded again. "I'm too fucked up! I don't want any more," I protested as he pushed the bottle toward my mouth. "Drink!" He showed a little irritation in his tone, so I gave in and took a drink. Again, he held the bottle up and made me take more than I wanted. He looked down at me, took his cock in hand and waved it in my face, "So go ahead and suck it, Bobby. You suck it better than anyone else ever has." He was enthusiastic, and maybe I was just confused and scared enough that I latched onto his compliment and... I don't know. I was too wasted to be very rational. I just gave up, gave in, and sucked his dick some more. I figured: If my life was going to be over after this-- and as far as I could calculate, it would-- then I might as well get all I could of the thing that would be my downfall. I figured it was just my fate. I didn't trust him enough to believe this wouldn't get out. My cumulative exposure to his personality just told me he likely wouldn't keep this a secret, since he'd done nothing 'fagotty' himself. Bobby's Tale Sucking him for a minute was no less a condemnable offense than sucking him for an hour, so what the fuck... I was so wasted by now that I couldn't really do it well on my own, laying flat out on my back. He could see that, so he took my head in his hands and started fucking my face again; which I loved. And I mean I loved it! I completely gave in to my fate and was so wasted I had no trace of an inhibition left. I let him know I was loving sucking his dick and would keep on going as long as he wanted. After several minutes of not being able to get a good breath as he jammed his cock in and out my mouth, moaning his pleasure, I felt his hand down between my thighs, then something cool and wet, slimy. Vaseline, to be precise, being applied to my asshole. I hadn't noticed him getting it. I jerked my head, but he anticipated that and crammed it back on his shaft. My eyes were bugging out of their sockets as I realized what he was about to do. But I surprised myself, in that my first thought upon realizing what he was doing wasn't fear that he was doing it. My first thought was: gauging how thick and long it was, I was just afraid it was going to hurt like hell. I actually realized that it didn't even cross my mind to protest. I had no inclination to resist him fucking my ass. My only reservation was that it was too big, and would hurt. He rubbed the gel around my hole and pushed his fingertip in. I welcomed the intrusion. He just worked the tip in to the first knuckle and wiggled it around. He kept hold of my head, fucking my mouth slow and steady, knowing I couldn't answer him as he bent down and whispered near my ear, "I really wanna fuck you, Bobby. It'll feel sooo good... yer gonna love it." He worked his finger in a little more. "It's what ya want, isn't it?" I suctioned his dick fiercely, and slowly spread my legs wide for his hand in way of reply. I lightly squeezed and rolled his succulent nuts with my right hand, rubbed my left hand sensuously down my stomach to my balls and pulled them up to squeeze, while steadily settling my ass down onto his finger, moaning loudly around his shaft. After all, I had fantasized about getting fucked in the ass for a long time. Now it was about to happen. And that it was this particular stud, whom I had so often fantasized being the one to do it, to deflower me, was literally a dream come true. I tilted my pelvis up, moaned and sucked even harder, trying to capture the feel, size and texture of his cock in my mouth to visualize when he went to fuck me. "Ahhhh, yeah, baby," he said, as he watched me wantonly yield to his manipulations, riding his finger like a cock. His finger was thicker than average too, and felt like a cock in there. I was freaking out on how easily it went in, with only a little discomfort. He pulled out of both my holes and moved around, tugging on my hip to get me to roll over on my stomach. I looked up into his eyes as I started to roll. I know I was looking for some kind of sign that he was into me, some kind of tender, and maybe even 'loving' look; especially for my first time. I saw lust; I saw hunger; I saw delight that I was willing and ready; and I knew it was foolish to hope for more. It's not like I even thought for a second that he would fall in love with me or something-- like I could do so fucking easily with him. I knew at that moment that if he showed even a hint that he felt something emotional for me, I would fall head over heels in love with him. Tender and loving or not, I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to take it easy; but make no mistake: I very much wanted him to fuck my ass with his big dick. I was shaking all over, even in my drugged and drunken state. Every reference I'd ever heard about getting fucked in the ass, joking or whatever, had made it sound like it would hurt. I was already short of breath from sucking, and now I was hyperventilating. I got scared, real scared, as he moved in between my legs and spread them with his knees. That moment focused my mind on just how vulnerable I was, and that scared me and thrilled me at the same time. Something in my nature made itself known to me in that moment. Something about yielding, opening up for a man, some very basic need in me... He came down over me on one elbow and aimed his shaft at my hole. Just as I felt the wide blunt head make contact, I pleaded, "Please... go really, really slow?" I gasped as I felt the pressure, "Please?" It felt so massive at the entrance, I was having second and third thoughts. "Relax, I'll go real slow," he said, surprisingly tenderly as he sank his chest into my back and nuzzled my neck. The pressure on my hole was scary, but his calves and thighs pushing out against mine, his perfectly sculpted chest crushing down on my shoulder blades and his breath on my neck were making me tingle and want very much to consummate the picture in my mind. Then he broke through. He probably didn't get much more than the head in-- hard to say-- but it felt like he'd rammed a baseball bat all the way in my ass. I YELLED or SCREAMED and he quickly covered my mouth. "Shhhhh. Relax, Bobby," he whispered in my ear. "Shhhhh." I jerked my head away from his hand-- because he was covering both my nose and mouth-- and panted, "Oh fuck! Oh FUCK! Oh man it hurts! Oh fuck!" I hunched down into the bed, trying to get him out of me, but he pushed down to keep it where it was. I couldn't believe how much it hurt, "It's too fucking big, Kevin! Oh, FUCK it hurts!" I was totally panicking, sorry I had agreed to this. I was willing to take a beating, humiliation, anything, if I could make it stop. "It'll stop hurting in a minute. Just relax, baby." He started a shallow pushing and pulling. "Just relax and think about how good it's gonna feel in a minute," he cooed in my ear. "You want me inside you, don't ya?" Maybe all my drugs kicked back in, maybe his soothing voice and my long held desire for this kicked in... but before I could say 'no', the pain started slipping away, and that allowed me to think about just what he'd said to think about. I did a body sensation check and revived the luxury of feeling his thighs and calves against mine, his chest against my back, and his breathing in my ear. It was male. It was male on top of me and it was male fucking me in the ass. It was good. And it was getting better as he worked in more and more of that huge cock. I was so fucking grateful that he hadn't just shoved it all the way in like I'd feared he would. He was actually doing it very tenderly and carefully, which really surprised me; especially knowing how fucked up he was. It was making me moan with pleasure as he got a steady rhythm going, sinking deeper and deeper. It seemed he hit bottom at one point; but he stopped pumping and pushed insistently. The pressure was real uncomfortable for me, but I was way too into it all to let it affect my ecstasy. "Open up, Bobby. Relax your muscles," he whispered in my ear, then kissed my neck. Somehow, he must have known that one little kiss of tenderness would make me do anything for him. "I'm trying," I groaned through clenched teeth. I wanted him in all the way, so I really tried to relax. Suddenly, he made it through, into that next channel and it was-- it was-- fucking intense. My breath flew out of my lungs and my body had an incredible rush that kept rolling, wave after wave, rippling out from my bowels. "Ahhhhhh, yeah. That feels soooo good, don't it?" "Y-yeah," I gasped. I really wasn't sure though. "Oh God, oh God..." I moaned as he forcefully ground his hips down into my ass, driving his cock in as deep as it would go. I could do nothing on a conscious level. I could only feel this vast filling up of my body, unsure if I could handle the thick depth of penetration. "Oh, Man! Ohhhhh," he moaned. "Man, you're so hot an' tight, Bobby. Fuckin' hot an' tight!" He started pumping, slowly, about halfway out and all the way back in, driving every last fraction into my spasming channel with every plunge. He pulled further back as he built rhythm, making me feel the column almost abandon me, only to have it forge back in, every vein, ridge and dimple of his thick member spreading my tissues, claiming my virginal ass with every plunge. "Huh, huh, huh," I kept grunting breath out as he pumped, but wasn't aware of taking any in. It was a million times more intense than any sensation I'd ever experienced. It focused all my consciousness in that one spot, to radiate out in electric surges and jolts that blurred the fine line between pleasure and pain, begging for a new term, a new word to express the mingling of the two sensations with the raw, jagged emotions their dance ignites. Every nerve, every signal went there and sprang from there, all of them telling me that this is what I do, this is my desire, my nature, my need, to receive a man. I had just been waiting all this time. I couldn't even tell if I was begging for it out loud or not, as he massaged my prostate and plumbed my depths with a rhythmic longdicking thrust that pushed grunts and moans and cries out of my throat. But I was begging for it to not stop, whether he could hear it or not. I couldn't believe how wonderful it felt sliding in and out of my channel. Feeling the size and texture of it thrusting down into me, setting every nerve ending on fire, feeling like it was going all the way up into my stomach... I wanted to scream out how fantastic it felt to get fucked in the ass! Every guy should know about this! "Yeah! UNGH! Ohhhh, fuck!" Were the first things I was consciously aware of saying. "Yeah, fuck me!" I demanded, mashing my face into the Kevin saturated sheets. I could smell nothing but Kevin sweat and body odor, and it triggered my animal instinct for total surrender to the alpha in him, needing to feel his manhood so deep inside my body. He responded instantly to my encouragement by letting loose. He started fucking my ass like a maniac, which intensified everything even more, making it almost too much to handle at first. I wasn't sure I could take it much longer, but I wouldn't even consider asking him to stop. I quickly came to love this hard driving just as much as all the other variations he used. And he varied a lot, from fast to slow and back again. Damn, he was good at it! As I relaxed into loving getting fucked, my drugs, gin and pot had started catching up with me again. I was unable to really participate and hunch back up at him like I wanted so much to do; so I just lay there, wallowing in feeling his big dick plowing my ass like there was no tomorrow. And it was heaven. It was all my dreams and fantasies come true-- well, except for the part where he falls in love with me-- to have one of the main objects of my desire fucking me in the ass. Between the fact that it felt so wonderful to get fucked in the ass, and that it was Kevin doing it, my head was about to explode in a blaze of ecstasy. I still can't believe I passed out while he fucked my ass with that huge cock! I would have thought that would be impossible, with the incredibly powerful and stimulating invasion of my body rocking and bouncing me around like a rag doll. When I came back around, I had no idea how long I'd been gone, but was enraged at myself for missing even one second of the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. What brought me out of my blackout, was persistent knocking on the door, and Billy West sounding all concerned on the other side-- or maybe it was Kevin pulling out of my ass that snapped me to. "Well what're you doin' in there, man?" Billy was asking. "Most everyone's left already. Is that Bobby dude in there with you?" "Yeah, he's passed out." He scooted up near my right side on the foot of the bed and sat with his right foot on the floor and the other crossed under his thigh, looking back and forth between me and the door. "Donald was looking for him, but he went ahead 'n left... with those other numbnuts. So what're you doin' in there? Why you got the door locked?" "I ain't doin' nuttin', bro', just chillin'." "Then let me in," he whined. I look groggily up at Kevin, thinking we ought to be getting dressed; though I wasn't even capable of raising my head, let alone attempting something like that. He looked down at me blankly. "I'll be out in a minute, bro'," he said nonchalantly. "Why can't I come in?" Billy sounded too curious and frustrated, like it was imperative that he see what Kevin was up to. "Fuck, Billy!" Kevin let the irritation show in his voice. "What you doin' that's so fuckin' secret in there, dude?" "Nuttin'! I'll be out in a fuckin' minute, bitch!" He looked reluctantly around behind him on the floor for his clothes. I was pretty sure he hadn't cum yet, and I figured he was trying to think of a way to get Billy to leave so he could finish. I was praying Billy would give up and go back up front, even if we didn't finish our sex. "Well then it's no big deal if I come on in!" He jiggled the handle again. "Aww, fuck it!" Kevin said with exasperation. He got up, pulled the chair away and opened the fucking door! I went into shock. I tried to pick my head up to protest, but could only manage a weak plea, "What're you doing?! Don't..." "S'what's going on in here?" Billy barged past Kevin and stopped in his tracks when he saw we were both naked as jaybirds, with Kevin's joystick swingin' big and hard. His eyes got big as saucers and his mouth gaped open. Kevin closed the door, moving in quickly beside the speechless boy, with a casual, confident look on his face and started talking. They both looked down at me, laying on my stomach with my legs spread wide, unable to move to erase the impression. So I gave up and stayed just as I was. I was so embarrassed I was near tears. Wondering why the hell he would let Billy in at all confounded my embarrassment over Billy seeing me in my obviously servile position, leaving me wondering how Kevin would explain this scene. Kevin put his arm around Billy's shoulders and cocked his head, looking at me as he casually asked, "Want some? He gives hellatious head." Billy looked at Kevin like he was crazy-- for about three seconds. Then he grinned cautiously and asked, "For real?" He kept glancing down at Kevin's pendulous meat, obviously impressed. I was stunned comatose. I absolutely could not believe my ears and eyes. My mouth must have looked like I was inviting his dick in or something, 'cause it was as wide as it could go. "He can't get enough, bro'." He made eye contact with me as he nodded my way, "You'll fuckin' love it." I wasn't sure if he said that to me or Billy. I was utterly speechless, but pleaded with my eyes to know why he was doing this to me. HOW COULD HE?! How could he think I would even consider sucking Billy West's dick?! He grinned at Billy, who looked at me then back to Kevin for the 'ok' to proceed. Kevin gestured toward me with his blessing. I wanted to die. I couldn't believe this was happening! I couldn't believe Kevin would do this to me! After he'd said there was no way he'd ever tell anybody about it! I didn't just want to die-- I wanted to kill Kevin, too. Even though I had assumed he would eventually tell someone about what we did, I just couldn't handle him doing this here and now—when I was so fucked up I had passed out while he was fucking me, and was not at all capable of resisting this development. FUCK HIM, GODDAMMIT!!! And it was Billy West! Wiry, skinny little fucker who wouldn't even be a part of the 'inner circle' if it weren't for the fact that he had an unfailingly reliable drug connection that was even steadier than Brian Steinholz's. He was probably less socially viable than I was, but for that factor. He was kinda cute, I guess, but not at all appealing to me, cuz he was a cocky fucker; the kind who always tried to act superior to us hangers. He had pretty, naturally wavy blonde hair down the middle of his back and a pug nose that made him look like he was sixteen instead of eighteen. I'd never much liked him and did not want to suck his dick. Billy took a step toward me with a hungry but apprehensive look in his eyes. I stared unblinking at him. I was still too devastatingly stunned to act or react. When he saw no sign of resistance from me-- besides the look of horror on my face-- he got excited and started undoing his jeans while moving to the foot of the bed. Kevin did an end-run around him and climbed in on my left side. Just as I thought I was about to be able to say 'NO WAY!' Kevin grabbed my head and turned it to face him, ramming his drooping cock into my mouth. "See? An' he's really good at it, too," he sounded like a kid showing off his new toy; but Billy didn't need a sales demonstration. He dropped his pants and boxers around his ankles and slid onto the foot of the bed with his knees spread wide. He took my head out of Kevin's hands and turned it back toward him as he pulled on his dick to get it hard. I felt utterly helpless, physically unable to do anything in protest. He didn't wait for an erection. He just jammed my face on it and started fucking. He got rigid hard within fifteen seconds. I was constantly in jeopardy of drifting into unconsciousness again, even as he forced his dick down my throat. He had a nice enough dick, much smaller than Kevin's, not a whole lot shorter, but pretty thin; actually, very similar to mine. Probably around six and a half inches and curving to the left. I was disgusted and feeling sick with this turn of events. I was humiliated beyond comprehension again, that Kevin had just brazenly handed me off to Billy to use. Now Billy knew. Everyone would know now. Billy was a loudmouthed little fucker. He would definitely tell everyone. I couldn't imagine him not telling everyone. 'It's over. Fuck, my life is definitely over. Can't say it was a good life, can't say it was so bad-- until this. But it's over now.'   Then a light bulb came on, and I thought, 'Hey, wait a minute! I've just graduated high school, and I was planning on moving into Houston to go to U of H anyway. I can just move away and never show my face here again. Yeah! Fuck this place anyway!'   That realization helped me a lot. I was already on the threshold of the rest of my life, and this would give me a kick in the ass (or dick in the ass, if you prefer) to really make a complete change-- maybe even come out and live openly gay in Houston. It wasn't like these people were lifelong friends I'd be leaving behind or anything. I wouldn't miss them at all. And I'd been fantasizing lately about living in the Montrose area of Houston, among all the queers, my people, my tribe, as I was beginning to think of them-- us.   As Billy got a rhythm going, Kevin crawled around and got back in between my legs. He wasted no time sticking it in, quickly matching Billy's rhythm. "Oh dude! You been fuckin' 'im too?!" Billy was incredulous. I squirmed. "Yeah, and it's fuckin' awesome-- but he passed out on me," he said as casually as if he was talking about some car he was test driving; actually, probably with less concern. They banged away at both ends for a couple of minutes, then I heard the door open. "Whoa! Fuck me ragged! What the fuck's goin' on in here?!" I could hear Darius Sterling, but could only see pubic hair and the shaft sliding in and out between my lips. Kevin had forgotten to put the goddamn chair back under the door handle. What's one fucking more? Well I did still have to face most of these guys for a while, at least sometimes, since I wouldn't be able to afford moving until just before the fall semester. And regardless of how things worked out later, this was humiliating as hell NOW, to have people just randomly wandering in on this scene. I thought of all the people who'd been here tonight. I had no idea who was left and who might wander back here—but I was pretty sure Jimmy would have left with Donald; so at least my best friend wouldn't see this.