Where I come from, regular guys get force-fucked. Only pussyboys take cock. That's the game we play.
It was three o'clock in the morning when my friend Dan and I left the club and started looking for a taxi to get us home. That's when I realized that some fucker had pinched my wallet. Dan, as usual, had three dollars left, which wouldn't get us to the next corner.
'I know,' he said suddenly, peering at me through long strands of dark hair. 'My brother lives just up the road past the park - we can crash there.'
'OK,' I said. 'Are you sure he wouldn't mind?'
'Ben? Nah. Even if he's got someone with him, we can crash in the living room. He's got one of those pull-out beds.'
Ben didn't seem especially pleased to see us at ten past three, but threw us some sheets and pointed to the divan. I was too nervous and tired to take much in - I just had the impression of an older, tougher version of Dan in the half dark. They both looked to me a bit like Sicilian gangsters, to be honest, with the possibility of a tender (although still unshaven) side if they liked you.
We made the bed, stripped and jumped in. I kept my jocks on, but Dan slept completely naked and I had a brief picture of myself ramming my cock into his shaggy bunghole from behind - pure fantasy, we didn't fuck, but the thought of a bit of buddy-rape always did get my balls churning. Four hairy legs thrashing about, then - WHAM! you nail him. Nice guy, but you're top dog, and he's got your spooge dripping out of his gaping hole to prove it.
'Morning, boys.' Shit! Seven o'clock already. Dan's brother was standing in the doorway in his bathrobe, stretching and yawning. Tousled dark hair, and slim, black-haired legs. He finished stretching and leant against the door-jamb, grinning across at us on our makeshift bed. 'Sleep well?' A bad-boy smile ... I felt a pang of cock-hunger shoot up my arse from my balls into my gut. He reached inside his bathrobe and scratched at his chest. It was shaven. I could see the black hairs glinting on his pecs from across the room. He didn't seem to care that his robe was starting to fall open as he scratched. I just had time to cop an eyeful of a wildly tangled black bush with some sort of tattoo snaking up out of it before he turned and headed back into his bedroom. 'Toast and coffee OK?' he called back out to us.
'What does he do?' I asked turning to Dan who was also stretching and yawning on the bed beside me.
'How old is he?' I didn't care how old Ben was, of course, but I had to say something. I could already feel the zing in my cock. Those cropped chest-hairs and lean legs had woken me up.
'Ben? I don't know ... thirty-one, thirty-two. Why?'
'Sexy-looking guy,' I said. 'Shaves his chest. That's sexy, too.' (Shouldn't have said that.)
'Hey, Ben!' Dan called out in a croaky voice. 'Zac here thinks you're a sexy-looking guy!' I socked him in the arm. 'He likes your shaven chest!'
'Shut the fuck up, Dan!' I could feel myself blushing. I grabbed a pillow and belted him over the face with it. He cupped his balls in case I made a grab for them. At the same time I felt my cock snap up hard against my stomach. From the other room came a throaty chuckle.
'What can I say?' Ben called out, his voice still husky from sleep. 'Keep up the sweet talk, Zac, and you never know what you might get for breakfast.'
Fuck me! What did THAT mean? My mouth went dry. Dan guffawed. I hit him again with the pillow and then took aim at his balls, which he'd now left unguarded. He doubled up, lashing out at my groin. We monkeyed around for a bit, doing what buddies do when they get up close and dirty, smacking each other around and, when we got a chance, jabbing at each other's crotches. Finally I landed a fist in his nuts and he yelped, curled up on his side, hands over his balls, cursing. I flung myself down behind him and tried to reach round and wrap my fist around them. My prong, still in its pouch but rearing to go, jammed itself into his arse-crack. I smelt the ripe dirty-boy smell that always hits you in the nostrils when an uncut cock - especially Dan's - starts peeling back. 'You dirty mongrel - you like getting socked in the balls, don't you?' I whispered into his ear. Then I bit it. 'It's given you a hard-on.'
Dan started squirming and trying to punch me in the groin. 'Ben! Zac's trying to rape me!' Silence from Ben's room. 'Ben! Your little brother's getting raped! Help! Do something!'
'Keep your voice down, Dan, or the neighbours will be calling the police.' Ben came back into the room half-dressed on his way to the kitchen. 'His white shirt was hanging open while he buttoned the cuffs. Boy, that glistening stubbly chest of his really turned me on. The cropped curls made me think of ... I wasn't quite sure what. Cock-hair, I guess. Animal maleness. 'If you want croissants instead of toast, I'll have to duck downstairs to the deli to get them ... Want croissants?' He was looking straight at us, but didn't seem to care at all that these two young males wrestling naked amongst the sweaty sheets on his divan were obviously just an inch away from fucking each other. I mean, I still had my jocks on, but his brother was spreadeagled on his back at this point, legs spread wide, trying to fight me off.
'Yeah, sounds great,' Dan said.
'OK, back in minute. Why don't you get up and put the coffee on, Dan?'
As soon as the door slammed, there was a sticky moment on the night-and-day bed. What should the next move be? We'd gone a bit too far this time to pretend we were just joshing. He lay there breathing heavily, pulling on his swollen fuck-stick. He eyed my swollen pouch and grinned at me. 'Zac, mate,let's finish each other off.'
'WHAT?! Here on your brother's divan?'
'Why not? Let's do it.'
I looked at his long, stiff cock, rearing up out of his thick, black bush, the knob leaking into the hairs of his treasure-trail.
'Jesus, Dan ... I don't know, mate ... what if your brother comes back while we're ... you know ...
He sat up in a kneeling position, his hairy cumstick poking out at me. 'Come on, let's get each other off. First one to come gets fucked. Anything goes - no holds barred.'
'OK,' I said, getting up on my haunches to face him. 'But what about the coffee?'
'Bugger the coffee. Now, get your jocks off, mate - I can't jerk you off with them on ... Oh, fuck, Zac, your pubes are stiff with dried ball-juice, look at them, you're disgusting - did you jack off during the night? Filthy fucker ... OK, GO!!'
We both lunged for each other's cocks, but Dan soon wrestled me onto my back, straddling me with his hole in my face while he smacked my nuts around and thrashed my cock. Then in one vicious stab he jammed two fingers up my hole. I yelped and bucked like a stuck pig.
'Noisy fucker you are, Zac - worse than your skanky brother.'
'You've been finger-fucking my brother?' Fucking hell! I'd been treating him with kid gloves ever since he'd moved in with me - just seventeen, a wide-eyed innocent from the bush - and Dan had already had two fingers and who knows what else up his arse. 'And what do you mean "skanky"?'
'Get real, Zac,' he chuckled, taking my rod in his mouth to get it wet, 'I've been ramming my cock up his sweaty, blond-haired arse every night after footy practice since he joined the under-eighteens.' He started full-fisted strokes on my cock, hair to knob, and sat back on my face. All I could do was reach round and jack on his cock from behind. Shit, I was angry!
Ever since he'd moved in, even when I'd come home with a raging boner a couple of times and he'd been lying in bed stinking of sex, like a dog on heat, I'd left him alone. I could so easily have shared a joint with him, put on a DVD, started fooling around a bit, slurped at his honey-pot and then fucked his brains out - in fact it had seemed a bit of a waste of a hot, tight arsehole not to - but I hadn't. Meanwhile, as it turned out, he'd been copping it several times a week from my best mate Dan, his coach - and, for all I knew, the rest of the team as well. Fucking yodelling for more, probably (a bit like cousin Jack, but that's another story). Filthy little alleycat. If he was still at home when I got back after breakfast, I'd fuck his eyeballs out on the spot, no questions asked. Boy, was I feeling juiced up. And if he wouldn't spread his legs for me, I'd nail young Rory at work - behind the sheds, in the toilets, wherever. By lunchtime at the latest I'd have Rory fucked senseless. I was on the warpath.
Meanwhile, Dan leant forward to have another slurp on my knob. I looked at his hole. Fuck, it looked hot. A bit woolly (like my kid brother's, actually) with a spray of black hairs around the hole, but the lips were more swollen, more used-looking than Mick's. I fingered it gingerly. Moist and velvety inside. He moaned. And the smell went straight to my cock. Man-cunt. Juicy man-cunt, open for business.
Reaching between his slim, hair-streaked thighs for his straining cock, I sank my face into his warm, hairy trench, guzzling at his pucker. Maybe that would get him shooting his spooge. Wrong! It sent a bolt of burning jizz straight up out of my nuts into my cock-head. I was in trouble. Downstairs we heard the door onto the street slam shut, Ben was on his way up the stairs. My mind was seething with pictures and smells - the wiry thicket in Ben's groin, Dan's dribbling cock, aching to slice up into me, my brother's raw fuck-hole, the stink of warm, unwashed boy-cunt, Dan's slimy fingers scraping at my prostate, making me ache for cock ... he had me skewered and bucking, balls boiling, as Ben ran up the stairs. 'Yeah, hit that button, Dan - come on, HIT IT, buddy. Oh, yeah ... oh fuck, oh man, yeah, that's it ... ram those fingers into me ... oh, yes, oh, YES! Damn! Fuck, here it comes!' And as Ben's key went into the door, I started pumping ropes of hot cream up into Dan's face. As Ben crossed the room to the kitchen, waving the bag of croissants at us, we collapsed into the tangle of sheets, with my burning cock still springy and leaking like a tap, he called out: 'Come and get it while it's hot, boys.' Was he blind or something?
Dan laughed softly right into my ear. 'Oh, boy, Zac! Am I going to fuck that sweet hole of yours - big time! I'm going to rape the cum right out of your balls. I'm going to rape your balls dry, mate.' Then he kissed me. That was against the rules. Stubble and warm saliva. Fuck, it was a turn-on. I could've gone again. But I grabbed my jocks and a t-shirt and went into the kitchen to join Ben. Dan went off to take a shower.
'No, sorry, Ben, we kind of ...'
'Fuck, he's slack, that brother of mine. Needs a good kick in the balls to wake him up.'
Neither of us spoke for a while. Ben read the paper while he ate. I was just licking my fingers after my second croissant when he put the newspaper down, took a swig of coffee and flashed me a big smile. 'So, Zac,' he said, looking me straight in the eye. 'Are you shagging my brother?'
'Shit, no, Ben - I mean ...'
'Well, someone's fucking someone, I can smell it. And it ain't me.' He laughed. 'Not this morning, anyway.'
'Well, I'm not SHAGGING him, if you see what I mean. We were just horsing around, you know ... kind of got a bit over-excited, I guess. Happens sometimes.
'Like fucking men, do you, Zac?'
My cockhead was starting to ping again. That sweet sting. The shaft started to uncurl again in my jocks, fattening and tugging at the stiff, cum-soaked hairs. 'I'm not sure. I haven't had a lot of experience.'
Ben just grinned and got to his feet and glanced at his watch. Wrist glistening with thick, black hairs. 'I've got to go, some of us have to work. Listen, Zac, next time you're in town, give us a buzz. Here's my number.' Then, reaching down, he pulled at the waist of my jocks and dropped the bit of paper into my still damp, hair-clogged groin. 'Don't leave it too long, will you?' Another of his bad-boy smiles. His jaws were blue, he needed a good shave. And with that he tightened his tie, grabbed his briefcase and was off. There's nothing sexier than raw, male meat squeezed into a nice suit. Man, I practically crawled after him begging him to fuck me. What had come over me? I was nobody's cum-dump.
I was so horned up by what this ballsy brother of Dan's had just done that when Dan finally came into the kitchen, half naked and drying his hair, I'd forgotten that he'd be expecting to bang me up against the wall and rape my wet, hairy loser's butt for me. I was running late for work, though, so I quickly started heading back to the living-room to change.
'So where do you think you're going?'
'I've got to get home, get changed and get to work, Dan.'
'First you owe me a fuck. That's the deal'
'Such a sweet-talker. No can do, mate. Come over tonight - you can do both of us, side by side. Promise.' As if.
'I want it now, Zac.' He got up and ambled over to me.
'Don't make me knee you in the balls, Dan ...'
He kneed me in the balls instead, just to be on the safe side - exquisitely painful, but it got me fuck-ready in no time. I like a man who knows how to mess with his mate's balls.
'Hang yourself off the couch, Zac, arse pointing upwards.' So I did as I was told, got eaten out till my hole was spasming with hunger, then got raped quite savagely, given he was still half-asleep. 'Great fuck, Zac - that fuck-chute of yours was made for my cock. I should've been emptying my nuts up that hole of yours from the start.' I made a mental note to take my humiliation out on somebody, painfully - very soon.
When I got home, Mick was still sprawled on his grubby bed, smelling of cum and boy sweat as usual. Well, any minute now he'd be smelling of freshly fucked arse as well. I yanked him to his feet. 'What's wrong?' he croaked. I socked him hard in the nuts. 'Fuck, man! What was that for?' he whimpered. I threw him face-down on the bed and spread his arse-cheeks. Sure enough, his pucker was loose and slimy - he'd been getting regularly fucked. I wondered how many loads he had sloshing around up there. 'Who's been fucking you, Mick?' 'Nobody, honest!' I reached in between his legs and grabbed his balls, squeezing hard. 'OK, OK - I've had a few cocks up there. What's it to you, you bastard?' I crushed his balls again, brutally. 'Don't you call me a bastard, you little cock-whore. You're not just living with me, remember, you're living off me. Yesterday morning I could've killed for a fuck, but like a good older brother I wanked off in the shower. Meanwhile you're giving it to fucking Dan - and half the football team, probably. Where do you do it? In the toilets at the sports ground? In some guy's car? Here? If you're getting fucked here, I'll ... I'll ...' He was clenching and unclenching his hole in fear or excitement, I could smell his fear in his sweat, he was breathing heavily. I unzipped and locked my cock-head into his sticky, spasming ring. 'Please, Zac, please, dude, I'm begging you, don't fuck me ... I got done by three guys last night, it wasn't my fault, they jumped me ... please, PLEASE, I can't take any more cock.'
I can't resist a well-fucked hole. His was just pouty enough to invite more abuse, raw-looking in the middle and still greasy from his last fuck. I punched my pole up into him and started slam-fucking him viciously. He was sobbing into his sheets. Man, it felt good! I'm here to tell you that force-fucking your kid brother feels fantastic! After just a minute or two of jack-hammering, I grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back so that I could jack my cock up into his gut more savagely. Then I gushed. The man-milk just jetted out of my cock into my brother's guts. I pulled out, wincing as my mushroom-head was squeezed by his convulsing ring. I flipped him over. Sure enough - he was hard. The fucking slut had loved it. He needed finishing off. He looked so good - skinny, whipped, stiff-cocked, his tangled, dirty-blond pubes wet with sweat, his slim legs dangling off the bed so I could see the wet, furry crack I'd just ravaged. 'Milk it yourself, Mick,' I said, a little more gently. 'I've got to get to work.' He said nothing. 'And by the way: you've just saved Rory's arse.'
'Just a kid at work. If you're very good, I'll bring him home one day and we can take it in turns to fuck him stupid.'
'Cool.' When I looked back, he was still sprawled on the bed, on his back, scratching thoughtfully at his bush. Give it another couple of minutes, and he'd be belting the cum out of his cock, thinking of Rory.
Rory copped it anyway. But what happened later that morning to young Rory from Sales when he ducked out behind the packing shed for a quick drag wasn't my fault. I couldn't have pinned him down and jacked my cock up his hole without Lou to settle him down for me first. So it was just as much Lou's fault as mine. And Lou really ape-fucked him once I'd finished - makes me wince to think about it. When I'd said to Lou, watching Rory slip behind the shed,'Come on, let's do him,' I hadn't meant fucking pile-drive his arse into a pulp. I said sorry to Rory when we'd finished fucking him and let him take the work pick-up home for the weekend to make up. Unfortunately, he forgot to clean and polish it before giving it back - mud and grass all over it - so I took him inside and explained how upset I was. He scratched his bleached buzz-cut, looked sheepish, sighed and then did the decent thing: he turned round, dropped his jeans and bent over the kitchen table, with his skinny legs spread wide for me, waiting to be screwed. Good boy. Yelped and squirmed a bit as my cock dug into his gut, but once the heavy long-dicking started he started whooping softly with the urgent, rippling ache of it. He squished all over the table, gripping at my cock with his ring, just as I started blasting into his fuck-chute - nice timing. I don't think Lou and I are the only guys who've had him.
About a month later he asked about borrowing the truck again for the weekend and said could he have it without getting fucked, please, or, if he had to get fucked, could we do it when he got back because Lou had jumped him again behind the packing shed and ripped his arse open, jack-hammered his brains out, apparently - it had been either that or give up his little bag of weed. So he was a bit tender. Sweet, really. I took him up to the men's room, inspected his raw, furry hole, tongued it out for him to make him feel better and then fucked it anyway. Then I felt sorry for the poor guy and sucked him off, just to be nice to him. I was picking his dirty blond pubic hairs out of my teeth for the rest of the day. His skull's been trimmed back to the scalp, but his pubes are long enough to knit a scarf out of. Lou reckons he needs tying down and trimming, but on a young, smooth-chested bloke like Rory I think long, corkscrewing pubes look kind of sexy.
Anyway, to hell with Rory from Sales, that was all later. The thing is this: I didn't call Ben. I don't know why. I jerked off thinking about it countless times, imagining licking that shaven chest of his against the hairs, biting his nipples, burying my nose in his huge, musky, black bush, choking on his tool, slurping on his matted arsehole and ... that's where the movie in my head stopped rolling. I knew what would come next and it scared me. Ben would fuck me and he'd be brutal. I just knew. He'd play the big brother role for a while, all smiles and brotherly slaps on the back, and then, as soon as he got me alone with the door locked, he'd screw my fucking brains out, no holds barred. I could just feel it in the way he'd looked at me. He was all cock.
Then one day I dropped around on my bike to see Dan - no particular reason, I was just at a bit of a loose end. Well, OK - I was hoping for a bit of tail. So what? The only arses I'd had my cock up since Rory had been my skanky brother's once or twice. I was hot for a bit of buddy-fucking - I mean, at twenty you need to unload into something tight, wet and matted with hair almost every day. I needed to be milked.
When I got there, he was busy repainting the kitchen. When he got down to the skirting board, he crouched and his t-shirt rode up his back and his pants sagged down to the top of his crack. I was boning up inside my shorts just looking at it - the smooth, olive skin, turning creamy just above the crack, the fine, black hairs thickening at the top of the trench.
Then the phone went, and while he was talking (it was Ben checking in), just for a lark, I pulled down on his pants to bare his butt. He told me to fuck off and kept talking. Then I stuck a hand into the warm crack, feeling for his pucker and fingering the puffy lips through the fur. 'Yeah, he's here now,' he said to Ben, as I slipped one finger into the slimy cum-hole. 'He's finger-fucking me, man! I think he's going to try to stick his cock in me. Maybe you'd better get over here and rescue me, bro ...' I jammed another finger into his clutching hole. I was almost queasy with anticipation - I wanted to breed this manhole, empty my hairy balls into it and breed it NOW. This was too good to be true - no resistance at all. Open cunt. Succulent. Unzipping, I slicked up my aching prong with spit and jabbed it at his hole. The thing is this: all the boys in our family - my brothers, my dad, even Uncle Scott (believe me, I'd know) - have long, thin stalks, but fat, flared cockheads. Ramming the head through to first base can lead to a lot of high-pitched swearing, thrashing about and screams for us to take the fucking thing out NOW. Usually we keep on ramming, going for broke, right up to the balls. The knob finally popped in and then I forced it straight up, right up to my balls. Dan dropped the phone and swore at me: 'You fucker, what are you doing to me?'
'I'm horny as hell, mate,' I croaked. 'Nothing personal. I just can't resist an unguarded manhole.' I grabbed the phone, said 'See you soon, Ben' as cheekily as I could and turned it off. He tried to fight back for moment or two, but then the cock-hunger kicked in, he pushed back into my groin and I fucked him ape-shit. Nice bit of male bonding amongst the paint tins. I had the feeling I was going to want more of my buddy's tail before too long.
Ben arrived with a guy called Matt - Maltese-looking, or maybe Italian, one of his employees from the hotel. Sexy little monkey, too - and wearing nothing but a pair of overalls. I noticed Ben's nose twitch when he caught the first whiff of cum, but he didn't say anything. They pitched in straight away to help with the painting. Now and again Ben flashed me one of his jagged grins, but nothing much happened until he went into the kitchen to make coffee. I followed him out.
'Owes me a few favours, so I thought he could help out with the paint job,' he said, cocking his head back towards Matt. 'He's been a bad boy.'
'Caught him offering one of the guests extra services - for money. Bad for our reputation. And it wasn't the first time. He's going to have to be taught another lesson.'
I shivered. He stank of maleness. It's not my usual style, but the thought of being taught a lesson by this shaven-chested hunk made my cock-head suddenly sting and I felt my still slimy stalk uncoiling in my jocks. 'What do you mean - taught another lesson?' I croaked.
Ben laughed. 'He's got an appointment in the boiler-room tomorrow after work with a couple of the maintenance guys.' He looked over at me with that bad-boy grin of his. His eyes travelled slowly up my bare legs to my crotch. 'Spike and Sam. Big boys. They won't be gentle. A bit of ball-busting, a bit of smacking about ... and then some power-rutting. Believe me, these boys know what they're doing. He knows what's coming - and he's shitting himself. That's why he's here - he thinks he might get let off for good behaviour.' Fuck, he was turning me on. I felt almost queasy. At that moment I'd have let him do anything he wanted to me. He could have busted my balls on the spot and I'd have spread my legs for more. 'It's either that or he loses his job, so ... I guess it's going to be an hour with Spike and Sam in the boiler-room.' He went back to grinding the coffee. I glanced back at Matt - he'd let the flap of his overalls fall, baring his trim chest. Trim buns, too, when he bent over. Definitely fuckable.'
'Want to fuck him, Zac? Want to stretch his hole a bit for him before the boys get to it? Feel free. He'll do whatever I tell him.'
By now my cock was jutting straight up in my jocks towards my navel. 'I, um, well, I don't know, Ben ...' I stammered.
'Go on, mate - fuck him. He'll think he's earning a reprieve. Hey, Matt!' Matt almost came running, like an eager puppy. His slim, swarthy torso was covered in a light, sweaty sheen. Smooth, too, except for the trail of crinkly black hair heading south from his belly-button. He scratched at a large, swollen pebble of a nipple. 'Zac here wants to fuck you. Get into the bedroom.' I could hardly breathe.
'Sure thing, Ben. Whatever you say, man.' He looked slightly wary, but obedient, like a kid about to get a thrashing he knew he deserved.
'So what are you waiting for? Get in there now, on your back, legs in the air, ready for a good fucking. Give Zac here a good look at what he's going to be fucking.' And off he padded. I couldn't believe it. 'So go and fuck him, man. Don't take too long, though, or the coffee will go cold.'
'Don't worry,' I said huskily, 'I'll root the shit out of the little monkey.' (That was my cock talking.)
As I turned to go, he leant over and said softly: 'Do what you like to him, man, he's all yours. But you'll owe me one - know what I mean?'