Date: Fri, 07 Dec 2001 08:41:58 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 28

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've
enjoyed hearing from all of you.

So, on with Season 2 of the story.

***

Lance wasn't looking at Justin, or at least not at Justin's face, so he
didn't see the way Justin's smile curved upward as he looked down at
Lance. Resting on his knees, too far from Justin to touch him, Lance stared
open-mouthed at Justin's cock, which twitched a little as Justin stood
before him, hand on his hips, legs spread slightly. I had to admit from
personal experience, that, yes, Justin's cock, like the rest of him, was
beautiful, and well worth staring at in open-mouthed admiration, but Lance?

"I hate fags" Lance?

What the hell was Lance doing on his knees in front of Justin?

This couldn't possibly be what it looked like.

"I asked you a question, Lance," Justin repeated. "What do you want to do
now?"

"I," Lance began, tearing his eyes from Justin's throbbing prick to stare
up at him.  Justin's face was a mask of friendliness, beaming down at
Lance. Lance's voice was a low, low whisper, so soft that I barely heard
it. His jaw trembled, and his blue eyes looked huge and frightened. "I
don't want, I don't, I don't want to do anything."

"Are you sure?" Justin asked. Justin clenched his ass, and his cock jumped,
just once. It was enough for Lance's eyes to fasten on it again. "Are you
sure you don't want to do anything with it?"

"No," Lance whimpered.

"No you don't want to do anything?" Justin asked, giving his cock a long,
lazy stroke.  Lance's eyes bulged. "Or no you're not sure?"

Other than shifting his hand from his hip to his dick, Justin hadn't moved
one inch. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, and he seemed to tower
over Lance.  Lance might think he had a say in what was going on, but it
was definitely Justin's show. I stared at both of them, Justin with his
strong legs and firm ass, his low hanging balls and his prick sticking
almost straight out, and Lance, kneeling on the floor, staring at Justin's
cock as if it was the only thing in the room, and the pieces started
falling into place in my head. I prayed that it couldn't possibly be what I
was thinking.

"I'm only trying to help you, Lance," Justin purred. "I'm just trying to be
a good friend to you, and help you out. I just want you to be happy,
Lance. You know that, right?"

Lance swallowed, and looked at the floor, muttering something I didn't
hear.

"Lance, I can't hear you," Justin said. "Say that again?"

"Yes," Lance said, a fraction louder.

Justin smiled again, and I shuddered.

"So what would make you happy, Lance?" Justin asked thoughtfully. "Do you
want to touch it?"

Lance said nothing, still staring at the floor.

"You wanted to touch it the other night, Lance," Justin said softly. "Did
that make you happy?"

"Yes," Lance answered quietly.

"So do you want to touch it again, Lance?" Justin asked. His voice was low,
and coaxing.

"Yes," Lance answered, his voice squeaky, on the verge of cracking.

"Yes what?" Justin asked, a hard edge sliding into his tone. "Say it,
Lance."

Lance sighed.

"Yes, I, I want to touch it," he said weakly, his shoulders dropping.

"Go right ahead," Justin said, smiling again. He'd returned his hand to his
hip, and just stood there as Lance began to slide forward on his knees. "Go
on and touch it if you want to, Lance, I don't mind."

Lance looked up at Justin, his eyebrows wrinkled, searching Justin's face
for disapproval, but Justin stared down at him with the gaze of an angel,
wide-eyed, beaming a toothy, perfect smile. It was a face that conveyed
warmth, friendship, and openness.  Lance should have known better than to
trust such a face, but he was caught.

And so was I.

Standing in the backyard, still clutching Josh's notes, I was unable to
move, or even to speak. I was a mute witness as Lance reached out one
trembling hand and wrapped it around Justin's cock, squeezing lightly.

Lance let out a small noise, almost a squeak, but Justin let out a low
moan.

"Oh, that's good, Lance," Justin said, still smiling. He stared down
encouragingly.  "You're good at that, and your hand is so soft. Do you like
touching it, Lance?"

Lance didn't say anything, but his hand kept moving gently over Justin's
cock, not jerking him off, just feeling up and down the shaft, brushing
over the head.  Justin flexed again, and his cock twitched a little, a bead
of shining precum leaking out of the head.  Lance absently began to rub it
in with his fingers, smoothing them over Justin's wide, pink
cockhead. Justin smiled again.

"It's ok, Lance," Justin sighed. "I won't tell anyone. I won't tell anyone
you like it. You do like it, don't you?"

Lance still didn't say anything.

"Lance," Justin said, that hard edge sliding into his voice again. "I asked
you a question.  Do you like it?"

"Yes," Lance answered weakly. His voice was almost a whisper again. "Yes, I
like it. I like touching it."

"Touching what?" Justin asked, his voice still hard. "Say it, Lance."

"Your cock," Lance whispered.

"What?" Justin asked loudly. "You're so quiet, Lance."

Lance's hand was still on Justin's cock, sliding slowly up and down
Justin's shaft.

"I like touching your cock," Lance said, his voice trembling.

"I know you do, Lance," Justin said, smiling again, his voice dripping with
honey. "And I don't mind. I just want you to be happy. If you want to
touch, I'll let you."

Lance's eyes were locked on Justin's cock, watching as his own hand slid up
and down it, squeezing, pulling, caressing.

"Is there anything else you'd like, Lance?" Justin asked. "Do you want me
to take my shirt off again? Do you want me naked, Lance?"

Lance didn't say anything, but he tilted his head up, staring again at
Justin.

"You do, don't you Lance?" Justin asked. Lance nodded, and Justin sneered,
his voice turning hard again. "Say it, Lance. Do you want me to take my
shirt off?  Admit what you want, Lance. Just say it."

"Yes," Lance whimpered. "Yes, I want to see."

Justin grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands and pulled it over
his head in the smooth, flexing motion that so many guys have. Lance
gasped, staring up at him, his hand never slowing its stroking. Justin
stared down at Lance, his golden hair catching the sun. He was a tanned,
smooth expanse of manhood, from his large pink nipples to the jutting
curves of his pecks and the rippled ladder of his stomach, the symmetry of
all of it dragging the eyes down the treasure trail of dark blond hair
below his belly button and to his cock, which Lance was still working on.

"You like looking at me, don't you Lance?" Justin asked, squeezing his pec
with one of his hands. He pinched his nipple, smiling, before returning his
hands to his hips, standing proudly, commandingly, above Lance.

"Yes," Lance said. "Yes, I like looking at you."

"I know, Lance, I know," Justin said, reaching out to pat the top of
Lance's head. Lance cringed from Justin's touch, but didn't really pull
away. "I've always known, Lance. I've always known you looked at me, and
I've always known what you wanted to do."

Oh my God. Justin's words from the other night rushed back into my head.

"It was all over shit that Lance really has no business talking about
anyway."

When Justin said it, I thought he meant that Lance shouldn't be talking
about sex because Lance was a virgin, a fact Chris had shared with me at
some point. I had assumed that's what Justin meant, and I didn't ask, but
now I understood that Justin had been talking about something else
entirely. Lance was yelling and screaming about fags, but he wanted Justin.

And Justin knew it.

Justin must have known it all along. He was too smart not to pick up on
something like that. Justin knew that Lance wanted him, but Justin had
never acted on it.  Actually, that wasn't quite right, either. Justin had
never acted on it until he was mad at Lance.

Until he decided that he needed to teach Lance a lesson.

Oh, no, Justin, don't do this, I thought. Don't do this to him, not even
Lance deserves this.

"It's ok, Lance, I won't tell anyone," Justin murmured again. "I won't tell
anyone that you like this. I know what else you like, too, Lance, and I
told you, I don't mind."

Lance's eyes locked with Justin's, and Justin smiled down at him again.

"Why don't you put your mouth on it, Lance?" Justin asked. "Why don't you
suck my cock like you did the other night?"

Lance didn't say anything, but his hand kept stroking Justin's cock. Justin
had begun to move his hips a little, pushing his cock toward Lance in time
to Lance's stroking.

"Do you want to, Lance?" Justin asked. Lance's shoulders slumped,
impossibly, even lower, and he dropped his head down, shaking it. "No? Are
you sure, Lance?  Are you sure you don't want to put it in your mouth, not
even just a little? Because I think you do."

Lance shook his head again, and Justin reached down, hooking his fingers
under Lance's chin. Lance flinched again, whimpering a little when Justin
touched him, but he still didn't pull away. Justin tilted Lance's head up
again, his gaze boring into Lance's wide open, frightened eyes.

"You want it in your mouth, don't you, Lance?" Justin asked again, his
voice still smooth and mellow.

Lance mouthed the word "No", but no sound escaped his lips.

"Don't tell me no," Justin whispered. "You wanted it the other night, and
you want it now, don't you?"

"Yes!" Lance whispered suddenly, wrenching his head away from Justin's
hand.  "Yes."

"Then go ahead, Lance," Justin said, putting his hands on his hips again.
"Go ahead and do what you want."

Lance leaned forward slowly, ever so slowly. His eyes were squinting, and
his face was a continuously shifting blend of reluctance and lust. One
second, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, and the
next he only had eyes for Justin.  And Justin smiled down at him the entire
time. This was monstrous. It was cruel.  Lance's open mouth slid over the
head of Justin's cock, his jaw dropping, lips stretched wide as they slid
over the crown.

"Oh, Lance," Justin sighed. "Oh, that's nice. Your mouth is so nice, and I
like that thing you're doing with your tongue."

Justin stood still as Lance gently sucked at the head of his cock. Justin's
hands were still on his hips, but the grin on his face as he watched Lance
was both satisfied and smug.  Lance for his part, had closed his eyes, as
if resigned to what he was doing.

"Do you like that, Lance?" Justin asked. "Because I like it."

I remembered something else Justin had said, too, the other night when
Lance had gone running out of his apartment in tears. Justin had told me
that he said some things to Lance that he didn't want to hear, but that
Lance would come back for the rest.  Justin had planned out all of this,
days ago, but was there something missing? Was something going on that I
wasn't seeing? What could be worse?

Obviously Lance was having problems with this whole thing, and that was the
center of what Justin was doing. Lance, through some combination of his
religion, his upbringing, and maybe even his fears, was firmly convinced
that homosexuality was wrong, and yet, here he was on his knees with a dick
in his mouth, and it apparently wasn't the first time.  Lance had been
miserable for the past few days, and now I understood that it was because
he was undergoing what, for him, was probably a profound internal conflict.
Lance was being forced to confront the fact that he himself was something
he hated, or at least that he had leanings in that direction, and the whole
thing was being forced by Justin. Justin, who had carefully veiled the
whole thing in the guise of being Lance's friend, and just helping Lance do
what he wanted.

I don't know why this surprised me. I'd seen Justin manipulate others
before. When he decided he wanted to try sex with a guy, he'd thrown
himself between Josh and I, throwing himself at both of us in hopes that
one of us would go for him, regardless of how it would affect our
relationship. Sure, he'd said afterward that it was all just kind of
innocent, and that he hadn't really thought it through or intended any
trouble, and we'd believed him. Maybe we only believed him because it was
what we wanted to hear, because Justin was our friend. For the first time I
wondered if he had somehow manipulated the fight with Britney where she
kicked him out of the apartment, forcing him to stay in ours.

If someone had asked me that yesterday, I would have said no way. But
watching Justin today, seeing him convince Lance to give him a blowjob and
think the whole thing was his own idea, I could believe it.

Justin pulled his cock out of Lance's mouth, the wet pop jolting me out of
my musings. It surprised Lance as well. His eyes popped open, and he stared
up at Justin past the slick wet head of his cock. A thin string of fluid,
drool or precum or something, connected Justin's cock to Lance's bottom
lip.

"I asked you a question, Lance," Justin said. "I asked if you like having
my cock in your mouth. Do you like it, Lance?"

Lance nodded, staring up at Justin, just the slightest shake of his head.

"I didn't catch that, Lance, buddy," Justin said, looking down at him.

"Yes," Lance whispered again. His voice cracked.

"Why don't you get back to it, then?" Justin asked, putting his hand on the
back of Lance's head and easing it forward a little. He didn't have to push
very hard, and Lance, closing his eyes again, let his mouth envelope the
head of Justin's cock again. Justin laced his fingers through Lance's short
hair, getting a grip on it. "You know, Lance, since you like it so much,
why don't you have some more?"

Before Lance could say or do anything Justin's arm bulged, pulling Lance's
head forward as Justin slammed his entire cock down Lance's throat. I heard
Lance gag a little, but he didn't really struggle, and Justin held him
firmly in place, the veins in his arm bulging as he held Lance's nose in
his pubes. Justin smiled even wider, sighing, and then pulled Lance's head
back, and I heard Lance inhale sharply through his nose as Justin's shaft,
spit-slickened and pink, slid out past his lips.

"That was nice, Lance," Justin said, sugary sweet. "Why don't we do that
again, huh?"

Again before Lance could do anything Justin jerked him forward, sliding all
the way into Lance's mouth again. His hips flexed forward as he did it, and
then he pulled Lance back, leaving just his head in Lance's mouth, and then
slammed forward again. And again. He did it maybe four or five more times
as Lance just knelt before him, his hands holding on to Justin's legs,
letting Justin use him. He wasn't gagging anymore, but I noticed a sparkle
near his eyes, and realized he'd begun to cry.

Justin noticed it, too, and pulled Lance's head all the way back. Justin's
cock popped out of Lance's mouth again, springing up to smack wetly against
his abs, and Lance was forced to look up past it to see Justin's face as
Justin, still gripping Lance's hair, used it to bend his head back. Lance's
arms dropped limply to his side.

"Lance, are you crying?" Justin asked. "Again? Why are you crying, Lance?"

Lance didn't answer. He stared mutely up at Justin, his mouth hanging open,
tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't say anything. Justin sighed.

"If you're not going to answer, I guess I'm going to leave," Justin sighed.

Justin moved to step away from Lance, but didn't release his grip on
Lance's hair. Lance didn't seem to notice that, though. His eyes widened
and he grabbed Justin's legs.

"No!" Lance yelped, holding Justin in place even though he was still
crying.

Justin stared down at him with a condescending, patronizing look, the kind
a parent might give when they're about to lecture a child.

"Lance, I'm only doing what you want," Justin said. "If you're going to
cry, I'm not going to let you suck me. I don't want your snot on my dick."

His voice went from warm to cold, and back again, so fast that it just
seemed to blur together. Lance was beyond hearing the difference.

"I don't want you to leave," Lance whispered pathetically, tears dripping
off his cheeks.

"Do you want me to get dressed, then?" Justin asked, caressing the side of
Lance's head.  It was affectionate, but not loving. It was the kind of
touch you might give a neighbor's dog, friendly, but not important to you.

"No," Lance said, trying to look down. Justin's hand, formerly caressing,
now held his head in place, keeping his eyes pointed up toward Justin's.

"If you don't want me to get dressed, and you don't want me to leave, then
what do you want, Lance?" Justin asked softly, still smiling
angelically. "Do you want to keep doing what you were doing? Do you want to
keep sucking on my cock, Lance? Do you want to stay down there on your
knees? Because I'll let you, if it's what you want.  Do you want to,
Lance?"

"Yes," Lance sighed, sniffling.

"But Lance, if you want it, why are you crying?" Justin asked, his eyes
wide, sparkling with malice.

"I don't know," Lance answered weakly. He tried again to turn his head
away, and Justin's fingers, holding his jaw, tightened, the nails whitening
as Justin pressed down hard to keep Lance in place.

"Don't give me that, Lance," Justin said, his voice hardening again. "Why
are you crying? You know."

"I, I," Lance stuttered. "I, I don't."

"Answer me!" Justin hissed. "Answer me, or I walk out of here right now,
and I don't come back. Why. Are. You. Crying?"

"Because this is wrong!" Lance cried, shrinking away from Justin finally.
Justin let go of his head, finally, and Lance just drooped, sobbing loudly
with great hitching breaths.

"What's wrong, Lance?" Justin asked, sneering. "What is it that's so
wrong?"

I'd wondered what could be worse than what I'd seen already. This was.

"Is it what you were just doing, Lance?" Justin barked, still standing with
his hands on his hips, his cock still proudly at attention. He wasn't just
enjoying this.  He was getting off on it. "Is it? Answer me, damn it!"

"Yes!" Lance cried again. Even through his tears his eyes were still locked
on Justin's cock, and I wondered how many times they had played this scene
before.

"But you like it, don't you?" Justin asked cruelly, his voice almost a
whisper. "You know it's wrong, but you like it."

"Yes," Lance whimpered, all the fight gone out of him.

"Yes," Justin repeated, driving that point home. "You like it. You like
being on your knees with my dick in your mouth, don't you, Lance? You like
it."

"Yes," Lance answered again.

"Sure you like it," Justin answered. "You can't get enough, can you? Look
at you, down on the floor. You're fucking pathetic, Lance, you know that?
You want it so bad, and you'd fucking let me do anything to you, wouldn't
you?"

Justin grabbed his cock, pulling it down some, and started to smack Lance
in the face with it, hitting his cheeks, smacking it across his lips,
leaving glistening smears where the head leaked. Lance just knelt there,
accepting it. I'd never seen someone degraded or so deliberately
humiliated.

"You like that?" Justin asked. "You like having my cock in your face? You
like letting another guy dick-smack you? You do, don't you, you fucking
pussy. Answer me, damn it! Do you like it?"

"Yes," Lance said.

"Do you want to suck me off again?" Justin hissed.

"Yes," Lance answered.

"Then get on it, bitch," Justin said, planting his hands on his hips again.

Lance leaned forward without hesitation this time, opening his mouth and
sliding Justin's cock right in. He began to bob up and down on it, slurping
loudly, his hands on Justin's legs to steady himself. Justin closed his
eyes and tossed his head back, a blissfully satisfied grin on his face, and
his hips flexed as he pushed forward, meeting Lance's bobbing head. Justin
moaned loudly.

"Oh, Lance, you're good at that," Justin said, his voice all honey and
sweetness again. He stared down at Lance, watching his wet cock slide in
and out of Lance's stretched lips.  "After all your shit, and all the crap
you give everyone else, here you are, on your knees with my cock in your
mouth. You talk a good game, Lance, but you're so full of shit you
stink. You talk shit about fags, and sucking cock is wrong, and here you
are, on your knees, and you like it. You're so fucking pathetic, Lance, you
make me sick."

Lance didn't say anything, or even slow down. He kept crying, tears
streaming down his face, but he kept sucking Justin's cock like a candy
cane. I realized that Lance believed everything Justin said was
true. Whether or not Justin actually believed it, and I was inclined from
personal experience to believe Justin had no problems with sucking cock,
since he'd done it to me, Lance believed that it was wrong, and that he was
a dirty, pathetic person for doing it. I remembered what Chris had said,
about Justin being very protective of the people he cared about and how
Justin didn't take it well when they were hurt. I knew Justin was mad at
Lance, and I had thought he might do something, but I never imagined
anything like this. I didn't know how to deal with this. I felt physically
ill watching the two of them.

"Suck my cock, Lance, suck it," Justin chanted. He grabbed Lance's head
with both hands, pushing his cock all the way into Lance's mouth, grinding
Lance's face into him, groaning. "Swallow it, bitch. Swallow my fucking
cum."

Justin's hips jerked a few more times as he held Lance's face in place, and
I saw Lance's throat working as he swallowed. When Justin was finished he
pushed Lance roughly away, and began pulling up his pants.

"That was nice, Lance," Justin said, tucking his cock in and zipping his
pants. He picked his shirt up off the floor and pulled it back on. "You're
a natural born cocksucker, Lance, you know that? You belong on your knees."

Lance still knelt on the floor, his face a mask of abject misery. Justin
looked down at him and smiled, patting his shoulder.

"You've got some cum on your lip there, cocksucker," Justin said,
chuckling, walking past him and out of the bedroom. He yelled back from out
of sight. "You just call me next time you need another little talk, ok?"

Lance didn't answer. As Justin walked away, he began to cry again, and once
Justin was out of the room Lance sank to the carpet, curling up on his
side, and just rocked back and forth as he sobbed.

I couldn't watch anymore. The sun was beating down on me, and I felt a
little dizzy. Josh had only been gone for a few hours, but already I wished
he were back. I didn't want to deal with this alone, but what could Josh do
if he was with me? I didn't know what to do.  I didn't want to leave Lance
alone in the state he was in, but I doubted he would talk to me. How could
I explain what I'd seen? I couldn't ask Joey or Chris to check on him, not
without explaining a lot more than I, or probably Lance, wanted to share
with them. I wanted to call Josh very badly, but wanted to give him his
space, and let him do what he needed to do without me interrupting. He'd
call when he had time, and I couldn't tell him this over the phone.

And what about Justin? How could I face him, knowing what he'd done? At the
same time, though, I couldn't let him do it again. He might be pissed at
Lance, but he was causing him serious mental damage. Something like this
could fuck Lance up for the rest of his life. I had to stop Justin, but
how?

And when did I suddenly care about Lance, of all people?

I walked back up to the apartment in a daze, my mind reeling. I felt like
my thoughts were chasing each other around my head, and every time I tried
to stop thinking about it, I saw Lance on his knees in tears, with Justin
standing over him, feeding him his cock.  Replacing Josh's papers on the
keyboard, I absently went back to what I had been doing, tidying the
apartment. The mindless labor was suddenly a great way to not think about
anything. I put some of Josh's jazz on the stereo, cranked up the volume,
and went to work.

I was done with the kitchen, including the oven and all of the burners, had
vacuumed the entire apartment and all of the furniture, and was scrubbing
down the tile in the bathroom when I heard a knock at the door. Looking
around, I realized that the bathroom light was the only one on in the whole
apartment, and that it was dark outside. I'd been cleaning for hours. I
stood, stretching, and walked over to the door, pulling it open.

"Justin!" I blurted. "What are you doing here?"

***

Not exactly a cliffhanger, but wasn't the chapter enough?