Author's Note:  Thanks for all the feedback.  I do reply to all email so if you have not gotten a response to yours it may have been intercepted by my spam filter.  I check it for messages that have the story title in the subject and have rescued some that way.

I apologize for the delay posting this chapter.  I have no outline for this story and make it up as I go along, with only a vague idea of where I might end up.  It takes a while to write chapters in the 6-to-8,000 word range under the best circumstances, but it takes even longer this way.  There is more to come, but I do not expect it to appear before November.

Disclaimer and Legal Stuff:  Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?).  If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it, and leave my name on it.

Brother's Keeper
Chapter Two


I awoke to a dull, dormant pain in my ass, an aching throb pulsing around the circumference of my hole that exploded when I moved my legs to sit up on the bed.  And that triggered a similar explosion of realization in my head.  I'd been fucked.

It might have been rape, actually, but that idea was belied by the crust of cum that covered my torso, the dried residue of my lustfulness as my roommate's kid brother had taken my ass.  Taken my manhood.  As I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, still dazed by the reality of what had happened, there was an unfamiliar sensation in my butt:  an uncomfortable pressure like I had a table tennis ball between my buttocks, pressed right up against my hole, spreading my cheeks and pushing against my entrance.

I rose gingerly from the bed and felt around in my cleft.  It was moist and slimy from oozing cum that had not yet dried.  My pucker felt hot and swollen.  I pulled my fingers away, looked down at the half-congealed goo, and felt at least some relief that there was no blood.  I wiped them on my abs, adding it to the mess already there.  Yeah, I'd been fucked.

I bent over and picked up the workout shorts from the floor where Chris had thrown them.  Pain rippled up my ass whenever I moved my legs and I had to shift slowly to step into the shorts and pull them up to my waist.  I needed a drink.  I limped out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.  The tv was still going in the living room.

The sound of the fridge opening and closing or the soft click and release of air as I opened the beer alerted Chris that I was awake.  "About time you came to," he called as I took a long gulp.  "Get in here."

I limped farther down the hall into the living room.  He was still naked, supine on the sofa, his head propped up on his hands and a throw pillow.  Limp on his thigh, his cock looked like some kind of swollen sausage, a plump six inches encased in his foreskin.  In spite of myself, I shivered and felt a growing tingle of lust in my gut and balls.  He looked completely at ease, like the lord of the fucking manor, lying on my sofa and watching my tv.

He turned his face away from the tv toward me.  His eyes looked me over.  "Come here," he said.  I shuffled awkwardly to him.  He smirked.  "How's the ass?"

"It fucking hurts!" I retorted.

"You'll get used to it," he replied.

"Like hell.  You fucking tricked me.  I'm not taking it up the ass again."

"We'll see," he murmured and reached up to pull my beer from my hand.  I watched as he raised it to his lips and drank, his eyes never leaving mine.  His demeanor had changed completely from yesterday when I'd met him.  Then, he'd been a deferential kid, polite, slightly femme in his emo kind of way.  Now, he was all man.  He still had the soft look in his face--the red lips, the thick lashes, the long bangs that swung down past his eyebrows when he turned his head--but there was no effeminacy in his actions now.  Now it was all domination and control.

It unsettled me.  Not just the change, almost literally overnight, from boy to man, but the arrogance virtually oozing from the pores of this high school kid.  And there was the incongruity of his face with the obvious masculinity of his tight, muscled, hairy body and that monster cock, too, but somehow that seemed right.  Rather than seeming like someone had pasted a twink head on a jock body, he carried it perfectly in a seamless integration.

He put the beer on the lamp stand at the end of the sofa as he turned and sat up.  "Take off your shorts," he said.


"I said, take off your shorts.  I want to look at your ass and see how it's holding up."

"No thanks," I replied.  "I checked it out already.  It's swollen and sore.  Just leave it alone."

With the speed of a lightning bolt, his hand flew to my crotch.  His palm cupped my balls and pressed them hard against my groin as his middle finger curled under and probed firmly at my tender hole through the fabric.  "Holy shit!" I exclaimed as my hands dropped to grip his wrist and try to push it away.

"I said, take off the fucking shorts, bitch!" he growled, pushing his hand harder against my two most sensitive places.  His green eyes stormed darkly with anger.  I felt myself rising up on my toes and trying to back away, but his other hand had clasped onto one of my wrists, holding me in place.  He started kneading my nutsack with the heel of his hand, like a baker working a tough ball of dough.

"OK!  OK!  Jesus! Let me go!"

He released some of the pressure and moved his hand from my wrist.  As I fingered the waistband of the shorts and slid them down my thighs, he released his grip on my crotch and pulled me over his lap.  He seized my hips and positioned me so that my ass was dead center over his legs, my upper body supported by my hands to keep me from falling off onto my face.

"Bitch, when I say to do something, I want it done.  Right then and there, with no fucking backtalk!" He slapped my ass with an open palm and I yelped, more in surprise than pain.  "Do you understand me?"

"Chris, seriously, what the f?" He slapped me again, dead center on the same place he'd struck before.

"I said, do you understand me, bitch?  The next word out of your mouth had better be yes or no!"

"Yes," I yelled.

He slapped me again, right on the same place.  "And I told you to fucking call me Sir."

"Yes Sir!"

As I felt Chris start pulling my cheeks apart, I found myself wondering.  What the fuck was going on here?  Why was this kid doing this to me?  Was he some kind of enforcer for his brother?  Had Jeff gotten him to come up here and beat the hell out of me?  But, most importantly, why was I letting him do it?  Sure, he was pretty well built, but he wasn't a jock like me.  In a fight, I was pretty sure I could take him down.  But I wasn't fighting back at all.

And I realized my cock was half hard.  From what?  Getting my ass spanked?  What the fuck was wrong with me?

"Oh, fuck!" I yelled and twisted around as Chris shoved a finger into my swollen ass, interrupting my self-reflection.

"Sit still," he said, trying to get a grip on my thigh and hold me steady.

"Fuck you!" I yelled back as I tried to writhe off his lap.  I felt him slap my ass again, but I didn't give a fuck this time.  I flopped off and landed in the floor on my back.  Freedom was in sight and I was going to kick this kid's ass.  And then I felt his hand close around my balls and start to squeeze.  When he gave them a hard yank, I stopped squirming.

"Do I have your attention now?" he asked.  I glared at him and seethed.  I again reached down and tried to pry his hands away.  He had no patience for defiance and clamped his fingers tightly on my orbs.  "DO I?!" he yelled.

"Yes, god damn it!"

"No, I don't think I do," he replied.  He peeled back three of his fingers from around my sack, so that only his thumb and index finger remained, looped over the top of my nuts, which rested on his palm. And then he backhanded them with his free hand.

It took a split-second for the pain to register.  It was just long enough for me to hear the sickening splat and think, "This is going to be really bad." And then it hit.  It felt like someone had rammed a hand up into my guts through my nutsack, grabbed a fistful of intestines, and started twisting them.  I curled subconsciously into a fetal position and started coughing and dry heaving.  What a fucking lousy way to try to get my complete attention, because the whole world was black now, black except for the bright light of pain glowing from my balls.

By the time I was conscious of external sensation, the external sensation I became conscious of was being rolled over onto my stomach and my wrists being pulled behind me.  And they were being tied together.

"Stop," I said weakly.

"Don't make this worse for yourself," Chris answered.

"Look, I'll do what you want," I said.

"I know you will.  Especially now."

I submitted.  He had had time to walk casually to the bedroom, untie the shoelaces from the headboard, and return to the living room in the time that I recovered.  Now my wrists were firmly bound in the small of my back.

"Now do I have your attention?"

"Yes.  Sir."

"Your complete, undivided attention?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good.  Get up." He grabbed me by an arm and helped me to my feet.  "This is simple, Tommy," he told me.  "All you have to do is whatever the fuck I tell you to do.  Nothing more, nothing less."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked.

"Because you need it.  Now shut up."

He sat back down on the edge of the sofa and pulled me back across his lap.  Without my hands to balance me, the top of my head pressed painfully into the carpet.  Chris tried to alleviate some of the weight by holding one of my useless forearms with one hand.  With the other, he set about his business in my ass.

He started by stroking a fingertip up and down the whole length of my cleft but it didn't take him long to focus his attention on my hole.  First, he just stroked it in circles, around and around with the one finger.  I could hear his breathing slowing.  He was almost completely relaxed, exploring with the dispassionate stoicism of some kind of scientist.  He stopped circling and started rubbing up and down, just the hole, then side to side, then like an animal trying to burrow into the ground.  He was being so gentle.  It kind of took me aback.

At last the fingertip slipped into my swollen ass.  I gasped and winced, my fingers twitching behind my back.  He ignored me.  He slid it in with agonizing slowness.  I imagined that I could feel each wrinkle of his knuckles as they passed through my orifice.  And then his fingertip hit my prostate and I jolted.

"Damn, that thing must be really sensitive," he murmured to himself.  He poked and prodded at it, pressing on it and tracing its perimeter.

"Oh, fuck," I started to moan.  My cock began to swell again.  Since it was wedged between his thighs, he had to know.  He didn't care.  He continued undeterred.  It didn't take long for him to have me writhing again, but this time I wasn't trying to get away.  Once my cock was completely hard, throbbing, and drooling precum, he pulled his finger out and resumed circling my hole.  I could feel the cool air against it, and knew it was puckering like a fish gasping for air.

"Don't stop," I almost whispered.


"Please, don't stop."

"Your cunt's getting hungry, ain't it bitch?" he asked.

"Yes!  Please, don't stop."

"Ask me nice."

"Please put your finger back inside me, Sir," I answered.

I groaned as he pushed not one but three fingers into me.  Rather than center on my prostate as he had done before, he used them to fuck me.  He slid them in and out, stretching them apart inside me, twisting them around, always making sure to hit my button before he withdrew them, but keeping his whole hand in motion the entire time.  I was starting to sweat and trying to buck back against him, which was pretty fucking hard since my head and toes where the only things touching the floor, and my toes were busy curling into little fists and uncurling again.

"You know, you owe me another orgasm," he said.

"Huh?" I was too wrapped up in the pleasure to make much sense of what he said.

"You got off three times when I fucked you.  I only got off twice."

"Oh," I answered.  I just wanted him to shut up so I could concentrate.

"You want me to fuck you again?"

"Yes," I said without thinking.

"Yes what?"

"Yes Sir, please fuck me again." I heard the words and felt the vibration coming from my throat, but I didn't really realize I had said them.

"You're going to have to earn it this time."

"OK," I said.

He laughed.  He pulled his fingers from my ass, and that got my attention.  He slid me off his lap onto my knees and I looked up at him.  "First, lick your goo off my legs, and then I want you to blow me."

I looked down and saw all the precum I'd oozed, smeared over his thighs where my cock had rubbed, and then down his calves and ankles to his feet.  I then looked at his cock.  It was only half-hard but it was already as big as mine.

"I don't know if I can take all of it," I said.

"You blow Jeff, right?"

"Yeah, sometimes.  But he's nowhere near that big."

Chris smirked.  "Yeah, I know.  But you'll take it all.  I'll help.  But first you need to clean off your goo."

I reluctantly lowered my head between his legs and started licking up my pre-cum.  He wrapped the fingers of one hand in my hair and used his grip to guide me.  First, he tilted my face back up and slid the three fingers into my mouth.  "Anytime anyone puts anything in your ass, it goes in your mouth next.  Understand, faggot?" he asked.

I mumbled yes around the fingers I was licking and sucking and nodded to the extent they and the hand gripping my hair permitted.

"Good faggot.  It serves three purposes.  First, anytime a real man puts something up your cunthole, it is a gift you don't deserve.  Cleaning it with your tongue is a way of thanking him for that gift.  Second, it reminds you of your place as a receptacle.  Your mouth is just as much a fuckhole as your cunt.  Third, it not only cleans whatever was up your ass, but it encourages you to keep your cunt clean to start with.  Unless you turn out to be a shit pig.  Or unless someone turns you into one."

The last part took me aback.  I didn't want to be a shit pig, I was pretty sure of that.  But by then he had pulled his hand from my mouth and shoved me down to his legs, where I lapped obediently at the slimy pre-fuck I had oozed on them.


I've never found sucking cock objectionable.  I mean, a lot of bottoms expect to get blown and some even expect to get rimmed before they'll spread their ass cheeks to get fucked.  So it's kind of the cost of doing business as a top.  But I'm no expert:  I'm good enough at it to keep the bottoms that insist on some oral attention happy before I fuck them.  Kneeling between Chris Nelson's legs, that all changed.

First off, it had become obvious that I wasn't going to be fucking him after I put his cock in my mouth.  Second, I wasn't sure I wanted to fuck him.  I mean, I was very horny but it was a different kind of horny than I was used to.  Third, Chris had much higher expectations of my performance than his brother had, or any other bottom I'd topped before for that matter.

I began slowly.  I wrapped my lips around his knob, which was still covered in foreskin.  He told me to slide my tongue under it and I did.  I sucked on his head like a kid on a lollipop as my tongue poked around under his hood.  It tasted like his fingers had:  it tasted like ass.  Like my ass.  I knew what ass tasted like from rimming bottoms--not often but, like I said, sometimes it's the cost of doing business.  I hadn't rimmed myself, but I knew that the only ass this cock's taste could come from was mine.  Mostly, though, it tasted like cum.  The cum he had leaked into his foreskin after fucking me.

He was still only half-hard.  I was staring down the length of his shaft to his pubes, half in wonder and half in dread.  Sure, I had known that there were guys in the world hung bigger than me but I'd never expected to meet one of them, let alone be sucking one's cock.  I turned my head to look up at him and his eyes met mine.

"More," he said.  I turned my face back to his crotch and slid down until his head lodged in my throat, just before the gag reflex.  He placed each of his palms on my temples and wrapped his long, thin fingers around my skull.  I tried to back off a bit but he held me in place.

"You're not going to back off until you've taken it all," he said.  I tried to shake my head but he curled his fingers, making fists in my hair and holding me fast.  He gently tugged me forward a bit but I resisted as well as I could with my hands still tied behind my back.  The struggle was arousing him, making his dick lengthen and swell in my mouth, forcing it deeper into my throat.  I was fighting the urge to gag now.

"Swallow it, faggot, before it gets all the way hard.  Otherwise, it's going to hurt a lot more when I ram it down your throat," he warned.  I tried protesting but my complaint merely vibrated around his dick.  He jerked my face forward an inch and then slid it back.

"This is going to happen, Tommy.  You're going to take it all, over and over until I cum.  I'm not taking no for an answer.  It can be easy or it can be rough.  Your call.  But I'm still going to skull fuck you." He paused to let that sink in.  "You want it, right?" I answered with a shallow nod.  "And you want me to fuck you again, right?" I nodded again.  "Then take a deep breath and relax, and then start swallowing."

I did.  I filled my lungs through my nose, inhaling the rich musk of his unwashed crotch, and my throat muscles began to swallow.  He slowly pulled me down the remaining length of his shaft.  It seemed like it took forever to have my face pressed against his crotch and his pubes tickling my nostrils.  Even after I was all the way down on it, I could feel it growing inside me, growing and stiffening and stretching my throat.  I tried to pull back but he held me there.  My lungs began to burn and I began to panic, writhing my arms and trying to back away on my knees.  He held my head firm.

"Stop it!" he said.  "Relax." I tried to scream but there was no way for any air to escape so my vocal chords merely vibrated up his cum tube.  "Relax," he repeated.  I was starting to see black spots, even after I clenched my eyelids shut.  I whimpered and went limp.

"Yeah," he said.  "Good boy." I felt him flex his fully hard cock in my throat a couple times and then he slid me back all the way off.  I coughed and sputtered as thick, nasty mucus rose up in my throat, clinging to him.  My eyes and nose were running.

"Oh, fuck," I panted hoarsely between gasps.

Still holding my hair with one hand, he reached the floor with the other and grabbed my shorts.  He used them to wipe my face dry.  "See, boy, I told you that you could take it."

I stared at his crotch and the towering pillar of dick that now stretched up over his long waist beyond his navel.  I couldn't believe that I had had the entire thing in my throat, but the trail of spit and goo proved that I had.  I felt strange.  My throat hurt but there was a sense of pride and accomplishment, like the first time I'd reached the summit rock-climbing.

Chris didn't ask whether I wanted to do it again.  He didn't say anything.  He just pulled me down to his hairy balls.  I licked them and sucked on each of them.  There was no way I was going to get them both in my mouth at the same time without using my hands so I didn't bother.  And he didn't care.  He was watching me and I looked up at him.  His pupils were dilated like he was high.  He wasn't smiling or smirking, just staring at me passively while I willingly worshipped his balls, smelling and tasting the crotch funk of this hot, teenage kid.  He was completely relaxed, except the one hand still clutching my hair and his dick, which throbbed and pulsed and leaked precum.

After a while, he released my hair and gave me free rein.  He slid his hips forward to spread them wider and thrust his balls out for easier access.  He closed his eyes and stretched his chest and arms, and I watched the tidal ripple of his muscles.  He raised his arms and stacked his hands behind his head, lying back against the ridge of the sofa.  He sighed while I pleasured him.

I was on his balls for a long time.  I almost thought he had fallen asleep, and maybe he almost had, when I gently moved up from his balls to his cock.  My hands were still tied, so I had to rise up on my knees and press forward on my toes to get high enough to capture the head in my mouth.  I grabbed it between my lips and began as I had before--sucking on the covered knob as I licked beneath the hood.  The taste was thicker and saltier now, from the precum that had filled the space inside, overflowed, and streamed down the shaft.  I licked, sucked, and swallowed it away.

I don't know why, but I wanted to climb the mountain again.  I guess I wanted to feel that sense of accomplishment.  I started swallowing my way down the shaft.  I closed my eyes and relaxed, swallowing and lowering my head to Chris's crotch.  I got about two-thirds of the way down when I couldn't go any farther down.  Leaning back on the sofa had changed the angle so that his cock rose up and away from, rather than up and towards, me.  And it was hard as steel now, with no flexibility to conform to the curve of my throat.  I grunted in frustration.

"You want to take it all again, don't you?" His voice startled me and I glanced up.  He was looking down at me, his eyes half-lidded, smirking.

I nodded.  "Mmm hmm," I moaned around him.

He grabbed the base between the thumb and forefinger of one hand and pointed his cock down at me.  "Then take it," he said.  I turned my face back down to his crotch and repeated the lesson I had learned.  I breathed deeply and began to swallow.  I backed up on my knees to lower my own angle and repositioned my stance wider.  I felt his cock sinking down my gullet until my nose rested in his pubes again.

It produced a long, deep-chested groan from Chris Nelson.  "Oh fuck," he murmured.  "That is a good fucking boy." I tried to swallow around him, and he kept flexing his cock inside me.

The feeling of a long, thick cock completely buried in your throat is incredibly satisfying.  It is warm and alive.  You feel it move when it flexes.  You smell the sexual stench of its owner's crotch.  You feel scrotum on your chin and pubes up your nose.  Your throat is stretched and your jaws wide open.  You feel more united with the guy whose cock you're sucking than if you were being fucked because there is so much more sensory input through your face.  And that's what I felt for about thirty seconds as we both reveled in the fact that I had just willingly accepted his entire dick into my body this way.

After about thirty seconds, though, I realized I needed to breathe and that, without my hands, I had no leverage to raise my head.  My upper body was now so far forward, only twenty, maybe thirty degrees from the floor, it required a backwards crunch, someway to make my back concave, which I couldn't do.  I began to struggle and grunt with panic as I imagined myself suffocating on cock.

"Stop it," he said calmly.  He put the palm of his free hand on my forehand and pushed my head away.  As his dick emerged, I fought off another choking fit.  "All you had to do was crawl forward again," he said as he pushed me back up into a kneeling position.

"Sorry," I gasped.  "I panicked."

He smiled.  "I know.  You want to make me cum, don't you?"

"Yeah." I paused.  "Yes Sir."

"You want to know what it tastes like, don't you?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good.  Catch your breath first." He slid his hand up his cock and peeled back his foreskin to expose the knob.  Then that hand joined the other and he held my head as he had done at the very beginning, palms cradling my temples and his fingers relaxed.  "Just lick it," he said, lowering me within reach.  I did.  Every time my tongue touched it, it jumped away, and I wanted to follow it with my mouth but he held my head in place.  Instead, he just twisted his hips to bring it back to my tongue.  This went on for a bit before he lowered my head and pushed it just inside my mouth.

"Suck," he commanded.  And I did.  Like a starving baby.  I watched him close his eyes and lean back on the sofa again, his lower lip between his teeth.  He moaned as it twitched, the beginning of the shaft clutched between my lips and my tongue furiously swirling over the smooth, glassy skin of the knob.  This lasted a good five minutes before his brow furrowed.

"Deep breath," he almost whispered.  He pulled me down all the way down again.  My throat offered little resistance as I swallowed eagerly on the descent.  "Say 'please' when you need air, but stay relaxed." I grunted an acknowledgement, squeezing his cock with my throat as I continued swallowing and it kept flexing.  I kept it up as long as I could before I moaned gently around him in the best expression of "please" I could muster.  He pulled me up and I resumed sucking as I inhaled raggedly through my nose.  I could see his face again.  It and his chest glistened.  His bangs were in disarray, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, his eyebrows raised, and for the first time there was a trace of vulnerability as he neared his orgasm.  And I wanted to give it to him.

This became a cycle.  I sucked and tongued him for several minutes until he panted, "Breathe," and again I swallowed him whole.  The cycle repeated at least a dozen times, until the irregularity of the flexing and his hips beginning to thrust told me that this would be the last trip down, this time.  He moaned softly as my lips met his crotch again.  I massaged his cock.  

"I'm going to feed you my cum now." It was almost a whimper.  "When you get it, don't swallow until I tell you to." I moaned, and he pulled me back to the rim of his knob.  I stared at his face as I flicked the tip of my tongue in the crease below his slit.

"Oh God!" He thrust his chest forward and his thighs locked.  His fingers involuntarily curled into fists in my hair again and he went rigid.  A second later, his hot, viscous cum pumped into my mouth.  He exhaled short, shallow explosions of breath between each shot as his body twitched.  I counted 10, and my cheeks were bulging.  And this was his third orgasm of the day.

After the tenth, his body fell limp.  I gently sucked him and rolled my tongue on the underside of his glans.  He jolted.  "Stop!" he hissed.  I stopped and waited, feeling and tasting his cum.  It seemed thick and insoluble; it tasted salty and metallic.  I wanted to swish it around my mouth but didn't dare.  It was his turn to catch his breath.  I watched him calmly until at last his eyes fluttered open.

He raised his head to look down at me.  "That was fucking perfect, boy." I felt myself smile, as best I could with a mouth literally full of cum and his cock still hard between my lips.  He hadn't even begun to soften.  He slid his hips back and his dick slipped free.  I tilted my head and quickly closed my mouth to keep from spilling his cum.

"Show me," he said.  I tilted my head back farther and opened my mouth for him.  He smiled.  "You did a really good job.  You got a nice big load out.  I think you did earn my cock up your ass again." He stuck two fingers into the lagoon of semen and scooped some out.  "Swallow that now." We watched each other's reaction as I closed my mouth and gulped three times.

"Thank you, Sir," I said hoarsely.

"You're welcome, boy," he replied.  "Now bend over the arm of the sofa."


The cum he salvaged from my mouth went up my ass as lube.  "It's going to take a while to get this one out of me," he warned before he started.  "I think you're going to need this." He smeared his fingers on my hole, then shoved them inside.  I yelped.  God, I was already sore but I needed to feel him on my prostate again.

"You know what you're getting yourself into, right?" he asked.  He yanked out his fingers and wiped them in my hair.  He reached for the beer on the lamp table and took a long draught.  "Once I start, I'm not stopping until I get off again."

"Yes Sir," I answered.  He held the beer to my lips and I drank.  It was hot, flat, and disgusting, but I was thirsty after the throat fucking and I drained the can dry.  As he pulled it away and put it back on the table, I realized that his cock at its widest point was almost as big around as the can.  And I'd had 10" of it in my mouth and throat.  And I was about to have 10" of it up my ass.  Again.

He pushed me over the arm of the sofa and lined up behind me.  "You want me to be nice this time?  Or mean?"

"Nice, please." I didn't want him to ram it all in again.  I didn't think I would survive it again.

"OK.  You've earned it.  For the start, anyway." I felt him spread my cheeks wide, then the scorching sensation of the head on my hole.  And then it slowly but determinedly made its way inside.

"Oh, fuck!" I cried.  "Oh, God, that fucking thing is big."

"I know.  Now shut up."

He was taking his time, being as gentle as he could, but my hole felt like a rubber band, stretching, stretching, stretching, on the edge of snapping as his dick widened to the rim around its head, and then it was completely inside and I clamped down on the shaft.

"Oh, God," I sighed again.

He reached down and grabbed my hair and pulled me up into a standing position.  He rose up on his toes and fucked his entire dick into my ass.  "Oh, God!" I yelled.  He walked us forward until my legs pressed into the arm of the sofa.  Then he wrapped one arm across my cum-spattered chest and moved the hand clutching my hair under my chin to my throat.  He began squeezing my nipple between the nails of his thumb and forefinger of one hand and my throat with the other.

"Nice time is over," he growled.  "I'm going to fuck the cum out of you now, faggot.  Just like you asked for.  I'm going to make you cum first and then I'm going to keep fucking you until you know you're my bitch.  Then you're always going to be my bitch and being my bitch is all you're ever going to need.

"In a minute, you're going to give up your load, but I'm going to keep taking your ass.  Your ass is going to give out before your will does, but I'm going to take your will, too.  You asked for this fuck.  You blew me to get it.  You fucking impaled your face on my dick.  Now I'm giving it to you, and when I'm done you'll be nothing.  Nothing but what I tell you to be."

My heart was racing.  I could feel the blood throbbing in my brain and the pain screaming in my nipple and the ache burning in my ass.  I could feel my cock swollen and jutting up in front of me.  I could feel my balls trying to bury themselves in my body.

"I asked you if you knew what you were getting yourself into," he continued.  "And you thought you did.  Now you really know.  So do you want me to fuck you?"

I felt the entire length of his cock moving inside me.  He wasn't flexing it.  It was throbbing with his pulse.  Just that pressure against my prostate was driving me insane with lust.  But what he had just told me resonated inside me, too.  It echoed in my brain in some way I couldn't rationalize.  I felt high.  Dizzy.  Unable to reason.  "Yes," I mumbled.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCK YOU?!" he yelled in my ear.

"Yes, Sir, please fuck me!"

And he did.  I lasted maybe three minutes, but that's optimistic.  I think he made me cum in two.  I shot a dozen times, arcing over the arm of the sofa and staining the cushions.  I babbled senselessly, drenched with sweat that dissolved the once-dried cum on my body, and brayed like an animal as he kept fucking me through my orgasm and after it.  He only slowed his rhythm once, when he pulled out completely to retrieve my shorts and stuff them into my mouth to shut me up.   After that, he did more than merely pick up where he left off.  He cupped my chin in his hand and sucked my earlobes, kissed my neck.  Bit me.  Left marks to be explained.  He tortured my nipples, first one, then the other, with his free hand.  He threw me down over the sofa and fucked me until I was horny again and started backing up on him.  Then he pulled me upright again to deprive me of that level of control, pulling my head back in the crook of his elbow, arching my chest out like a bow.  He reached down and grabbed my balls, pulling them away and squeezing them firmly to make my ass clench even tighter in response.

He brought me to the edge again and I was delirious.  I think he may have been, too.  Our fuck was primal and chaotic.  And suddenly, as my nuts were struggling in his hand to draw up to cum again, I was startled by a simple sound.  A key sliding into a lock.  I froze in horror and panic.  Chris was oblivious.  My muffled cry merely blended into my earlier noises.  A lock turned.  A door opened.  Voices in the hall.  I tried uselessly to escape.  His cock ramming into my prostate, stretching wide my hole, his arm holding me upright, his hand clutching my balls, pulling my cock down away from my cum-smeared abs.

Jeff Nelson stepped into the living room and did a double take.  And he was not alone.  Two of our friends, Tripp and Colin, almost walked into him when he abruptly stopped.  They froze, too.  And then I came, cum jetting out over the sofa once more, my eyes locked on Jeff's until they rolled back into my head.  And then the world went black.