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 story contains expicit sex, drug use, and violence that is not sexual. It is set in 1977, so there's no such thing as safe sex yet; but you know the realities of life today, so use common sense.

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!


by desertmac


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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."

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.

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.

"Aww man! Shut the fuckin' door an' put that chair against it!" Kevin hissed.

"What the fuck you doing?!" Darius insisted.

"Shut the fucking door!" Kevin retorted. "Shut it, an' you can get some too."

"Who is that?" Billy's back was to him, so he stepped around where he could see my face being stuffed with cock. I tried-- and I don't know why I bothered, with Kevin humping away on my ass too-- to pull away, but Billy held my head firmly with both hands. "Is that Bobby Wheaton?! WHOA, DUDE!" He was shocked.

"Shut the fucking door, Darius!" Kevin bellowed. "Then you can get some."

"No way, dude!" He didn't dare show disgust at anything Kevin was doing, but he wasn't going to go along with it either. "I ain't into that shit," was about as strong as he was willing to get.

Personally, I would rather have had Darius Sterling fucking my face than scrawny Billy West any day of the fucking week. Darius was ultimate cool and one fucking big hot hunk of a guy. He had long been on my `top ten most wanted' list. Now he was gorgeous! He was a big fucking jock, and LaPorte High School was different than any other school I'd gone to, in that it was the only one where the jocks were almost all cool and got high like everybody else; so there was none of that `jocks versus stoners' type attitude that was in every other high school I knew of. Anyway, he was hot, hot, hot. Short dark brown hair and eyes, a good six-two but kinda thin, and quarterback or some shit on the LaPorte football team. He was fucked up most of the time he wasn't on the field... And he just looked like he'd have a really big dick, too.

"Then get outta here an' shut the fuckin' door!" Kevin was exasperated, but still fucking my butt.

"Uh, Matt might want some," Darius offered-- I guess to sound like he wasn't disgusted with them.

The conversation was blowing my mind. Billy wasn't saying a word, content that if Kevin was doing it, he could too, without catching any flack.

"Ok, but don't fuckin' tell Stan. Don't fuckin' tell anyone else!" he commanded as he kept fucking my ass like it was the thing to do while carrying on a conversation and inviting more people to use me. Darius mumbled something and closed the door behind him.

Billy didn't miss more than a stroke or two, either. The physical stimulation at both ends was so amazing, my thoughts wouldn't stay on my humiliation. I was disgusted with myself, but I had already conceded the fact that my life was over in this town. I was resigned to the fact that nothing mattered anymore. I was fucked up to nearly incapacitated, and couldn't prevent these guys from using me like a whore, so I might as well get what pleasure I could out of it. Fuck the consequences! I was getting fucked at both ends-- something I'd never even fantasized about-- and it was too incredible a sensation to let the foregone end of my present world detract from it.

With the distraction gone, Kevin and Billy really let go, encouraging each other, "Yeah! This is hot!" Billy exclaimed. After a minute of hard driving, he asked, "So, uh, is his ass pretty tight? He ain't puttin' as good a suction to it now as he was." He jiggled my head like a flashlight a couple of times as if he thought that would make my mouth work better.

"Man, I gotta tell ya... it's tighter than any pussy I ever had," Kevin admitted, grunting between words as he fucked my ass and made me see stars. "Sorry man, but that's the fuckin' truth." I guess he felt like he had to apologize for admitting sex with a guy was better than any girl. His words made me tingle anyway.

Curiously, at that moment, I was wondering how he could get sucked, and fuck my ass for so long, talking about how it was the best he ever had, without cumming. Must have been the drugs, booze and pot-or all the interruptions.

"No shit? Lemme try it, dude."

The door opened and in stepped Matt Swider. Kevin was just pulling out of my ass to let Billy sample it. "Shut the door an' put that chair under the handle," he snapped at a wide eyed Matt.

"Y'all really ARE gettin' it on with a dude! Oh FUCK, man! Bobby Wheaton?!" Matt was having a hard time believing what he was seeing, but sounded excited at the prospect anyway.

Kevin showed his irritation again, as he sat on his heels under the window at the head of the bed, "Goddammit, either get in here an' shut the fuckin' door, or get the fuck out, Matt!"

Billy got the rest of the way undressed and was moving around to take Kevin's place, so I was able to watch Matt jump and hastily close the door. He was fucked up enough that it took him a bit to get the chair wedged properly under the handle. When he finished, he turned and looked at me.

He showed excitement, but he also showed real uncertainty. I figured from the look on his face that in his mind, no guy he knew would be letting himself be used like this willingly. I had always liked Matt. He was always nice to me. He stood there with his hand on his zipper, his eyes darting between my eyes, Kevin's big dick and Billy positioning himself to fuck me.

Billy rammed into my ass and I jerked forward from the impact, moaning at the different feel of his dick compared to Kevin's. It wasn't nearly as big, but I felt it in surprising detail, even through the semi numbness of my whole body.

"Ahhhhh, yeah!" Billy exclaimed and started fucking my ass hard and fast. Matt stood with his mouth gaping, watching Billy. It felt good, and all I could think of besides it, was that my mouth was devoid of dick for the first time in awhile. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on enjoying the fucking I was getting.

"Ya want some or not?" Kevin demanded impatiently.

Matt wasn't part of the upper clique, like Kevin and Billy, and Darius-- who was top of the heap, prime citizen of Kelly's Cue. But he was generally treated well enough by them, as he was a cool guy. I opened my eyes and watched him get naked. He was bigger than Billy, and his body was sleek and smooth; not as big or defined as Kevin's, but perfect in its youth. His olive complexion made his emerald eyes seem to glow, and his long auburn shag hairstyle softened his sharply cut features, that I always thought of as Russian for some reason. Very handsome boy.

"Yeah! Yeah I want some!" He said, grinning wide with anticipation. He started stroking his dick, which was hard before he even got his clothes all the way off.

"Oh, man! This is fuckin' good!" Billy was banging my ass harder and faster, with short jabs, sounding like he was getting close.

Matt had a nice dick, too. Slightly longer than Billy's, and much thicker, though not nearly as thick as Kevin's. It tapered at the head some and got thickest in the middle, while not being thin at all at the base. He positioned himself with one knee by my shoulder and one by the top of my head. Sitting back on his haunches, he put his dick in my face, waiting for me to suck it.

"Ya gotta feed it to `im. He's pretty wasted," Kevin instructed and took another hit off the pipe.

Matt asked, as if Kevin owned me, as if I couldn't think for myself, "He likes it? He's cool with this?" But I guess since I hadn't reacted or said anything up to now, it wasn't that callous; and Kevin had obviously been running the show.

"Fuckin' loves it, dude, an' he's really good at it too."

"Fuckin' A, man!" Billy chimed in breathlessly.

"Awesome!" He raised my head to his dick and pushed it in cautiously. I wrapped my lips around it and started sucking, while jerking and grunting at Billy's furious pounding of my ass. As soon as he felt me actually suck on him, he started fucking my face.

Matt seemed to be much more into the experience of it, as opposed to Billy, who was just wanting to stick his dick in something til he came. Matt fed it to me slowly, watching intently as it slid in and out. I looked up from the corner of my eye and watched him watch me. He saw me looking and smiled encouragingly at me. I saw his eyes darting over every little bit to watch Billy's dick going in and out of my ass, and over to Kevin's dick too.

I sucked him with more energy and enthusiasm, grateful that he seemed to think of me more like a person he was having sex with, rather than merely a hole to use. I kept my eyes trained on his and after a bit he just looked back and forth between my eyes and his dick sliding in and out of my slightly bruised lips.

Matt was always one of those people who would look you in the eye when he talked to you. He was always so easy going and nice to me, I'd always wanted to be his friend; but just never seemed to get the right opportunity to really get to know him. Like I said, I usually irritated people; so he had probably never been interested in being my friend. But I liked him, and really liked his dick for that matter; mainly because he seemed really into this with me; enough so that I was starting to get a little control back over my body just to respond to him.

"Man, that feels fuckin' good, Bobby," he said with tenderness and appreciation. He smiled at me, then frowned as he traced the knot on my forehead. "Uh, what happened to your head?"

Kevin chuckled, "He ran into the bathroom door."

"Aw man, that looks like it hurt, huh?" He showed concern as he worked my face on and off his meat.

I found the muscle control to pull my head off and he let me. I pushed my face in between his thighs and started licking his sweaty nuts.

"Ahhhhh, fuck yeah! Oh man, that's so fuckin' good!" he moaned, spread his knees wide and tilted his pelvis up to give me better access. His nuts weren't as big and heavy as Kevin's, but they were still wonderful and tasty. I discovered that ball sweat has a musky and delicious flavor that seems to be unique to balls alone, different than the taste of the cock right above them.

"AHHH! AHHH! OH FUCK YEAH!" Billy shouted as he started unloading in my ass. Kevin tried to shush him, but gave up. He slammed it home really hard as he spasmed, bending my neck up into Matt's groin. Luckily for Matt, I was only licking around at that moment, and didn't have either of his nuts in my mouth.

Billy collapsed on my back and heaved his ragged breath in my ear as he jerked around with his last shots. Kevin climbed off the bed and came around behind Matt.

"Ok. My turn again," he said matter-of-factly.

He effortlessly lifted Matt up by the armpits from behind and stood him on the floor. I saw Matt's eyes bulge when Kevin's hard cock pressed against his ass in the process. Then Kevin pushed Billy off my back and aimed his cock at my mouth. It was hard and I had missed it. I looked up his fantastic body and wished like hell all this didn't have to destroy my life. I wished this could just be something we all did and loved. Since I was wishing, I wished Kevin wasn't a coldhearted user, and wished he could love me. If wishes were...

"Get some ass while ya can, bro'," Kevin warned Matt. "I'm gonna be back there in a minute."

Matt stepped around and mounted me. I guess he knew there was no need to be gentle going in, with Billy just having pulled out, so he shoved it in and it felt really good. It was enough bigger than Billy's to really feel the difference and with Kevin fucking my face again with his heavy sausage, I was in hog heaven.

Actually, I wanted Kevin fucking me while I sucked on Matt; `cause Kevin filled my ass to incredible proportions, and I could get Matt's cock down my throat. I figured they would switch soon enough though.

In the meantime, I tried to relax my throat muscles and signal Kevin that I was trying something, as I was getting more and more muscle control back. He seemed to get it, and let me work it myself. I consciously relaxed my throat and pushed my head against him. He figured out what I was trying to do and held the back of my head and pulled slow but forcefully.

I did it. It felt like it ripped my throat muscles, but it was in! I still wasn't quite nuzzled into his pubes, but I was close. It felt like it was spreading all the little bones in my neck to where they'd never settle back in place, but it was satisfying as hell. Kevin pulled back and pushed in again slowly, steadily, and sank it all the way this time. He ground my face into his pubes and moaned loudly with approval. I gagged and concentrated on relaxing my throat muscles.

"Ahhhhhh, yeah. Ahhh, that's it baby, that's it, yeahhhh," He started a slow in and out, going all the way in each time, watching intently. "Fuck! He's taking it all the way! No bitch has ever been able to take the whole thing to the bone!" he bragged to the others.

"That's rad if he can take that big fuckin' thing all the way, dude," Billy said from somewhere on the bed. "You got the biggest fuckin' dick I ever seen."

"No shit!" Matt enthused, as he put his face in close to mine to watch Kevin's cock slide in and out of my throat. "Fuck! He is takin' it all the way down! I can see his throat stretching! Fuuuuck."

I was thrilled that I could swallow his entire cock, finally. It felt like a huge accomplishment. Getting his cock all the way in while Matt fucked me with a good longdicking pace was sending me into orbit. As for all of their praise at my accomplishment----- it was too fucking bizarre to even think about. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry about how this was going.

Kevin was enjoying it so much, he stayed with it longer than he probably would have. He was mumbling compliments and encouragements to me in between his moans. I was even able to hunch back up into Matt a little by this point, and he murmured his appreciation in my ear.

But Kevin wanted to get back to my ass, so he eventually pulled out and stepped around behind Matt and I. Matt damn sure didn't want to stay in the position he was in on me, with Kevin's big slimy cock aimed at his ass, so he wordlessly pulled out and slid off sideways. Kevin climbed on and sank his wonderful shaft in my hole. After Billy and Matt being in there for awhile, it was an exquisite shock to my ass to have his massive cock sink deeper and so much fuller than theirs.

I moaned with pleasure and arched my ass up into him. I wanted to tell them all what they were missing, how fantastic it felt to have a dick in your ass, but, you know...

Matt, meanwhile, wiped his dick off with the top sheet and moved back into position in front of my face. I couldn't see Billy, so I had no idea what he was doing. Oh, this was perfect! Having Matt fuck my face and Kevin fuck my ass at the same time was truly heaven. I just assumed my ass should be getting really sore, but it wasn't-- at least not that I could tell.

I sucked Matt with a vengeance. Within a few minutes, at my prompting, he started really fucking my face hard. He warned me, "I'm gonna cum!" I sucked harder and grasped his thigh to let him know I didn't want him to pull out. "I'm gonna cum!" He repeated. I squeezed his thigh and pulled again.

I wanted to taste some cum. Matt's would be as good as any.

He grunted loudly and fired his first jet in my mouth. I whimpered around his cock and clenched my ass around Kevin's. Kevin increased his force and pace. Matt jammed the next shot or two down my throat, but I wanted to taste more of it, so I jerked my head back and let the next few jets-- and there were many-- hit my tongue. I swallowed and got a couple of shots on my nose and cheek while I did, then opened up for the last few shots of his enormous load.

It was so mind blowing I just convulsed at the sensations of Matt's cock cumming in my mouth and Kevin drilling my ass with his huge tool, making my own cock grind into the mattress with each hard thrust. I flooded the Kevin saturated sheets with my own seed, gasping and heaving while they both banged away at each end. I was so drunk with animal lust it was like my orgasm just made me want more--- more dick, more dick, more dick.

Matt was just starting to slump a little when there was pounding on the door as the handle was jiggled. This wasn't knocking like Billy had done; it was pounding.

"What the fuck you got the door blocked for?!" Stan demanded. "Open up, pussy face!"

Kevin stopped pumping and muttered, "Aw man, I was just about to cum, Goddammit." Then he shouted, "Fuck off, bitch! Sleep in Mark's room tonight!"

"Fuck you! Open the door, mother fucker!"

"Get the fuck outta here! Me an' my friends are busy an' don't need you fuckin' around in here!"

"You better open up, or I'll kick the fuckin' door down and kick your fuckin' ass, Kevin!" He kicked it and made the chair move a little.

Matt and Billy frantically scrambled for their clothes. I could do nothing, with Kevin's cock still in my ass and his midsection pinning me to the bed. I was terrified. With four sets of clothes strewn about the room, mingled with Kevin and Stan's dirty clothes everywhere, Matt and Billy were so fucked up and terrified, they couldn't seem to find their clothes. Kevin was the only one who didn't seem freaked out at the prospect of Stan possibly discovering what we were doing.

He pulled out of me and stood up swaying. Just as Stan kicked the door really hard. He stomped over, jerked the chair away and yanked the door open.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU WANT, BITCH!" I though he'd wake the neighbors, and surely, even his parents across the hall at the other end.

"I want in my fucking room, cunt lips; what the fuck you think I want!" He shoved Kevin backward over the chair and barged in. Kevin fell into several stacks of eight track tapes on the stereo table, sending them clattering all over a pile of junk on the floor.

Stan stopped and took in all of our naked bodies, Billy struggling to get his foot into his jeans, Matt with his tee shirt only partway on, both frozen stiff with fear. Me, of course, lying spread eagle with cum on my face and Vaseline all over my ass, eyes like ping pong balls and mouth like an `O'.

Stan sneered with disgust, "Well whatta we got here, a bunch a fuckin' faggots?" He looked at Matt and Billy, "Y'all been suckin' dick and fuckin' each other in the ass?!" Neither moved a single muscle, their faces just as stricken white as mine. "Hmmph," he grunted with contempt.

Kevin uprighted himself and grabbed Stan's shoulder, spinning him to face him. "Fuck you, bitch! We're all just gettin' some from him," he justified, pointing down at me.

Made me feel special, asshole.

"Like I said, yer all faggin' out together in here." He shook his head in revulsion, like he just couldn't believe what he'd walked in on. "My bedroom, fuckin' full a queers, shit."

"FUCK YOU, Stan! Don't you be callin' me a queer, when you told me what you did all the time in jail with that kid; how you fucked him twice a day and told me it was the best ass you ever had!"

Ahah! Was that why he'd been so into trying this with me? He wanted to know what it was like to fuck a guy in the ass like his brother had bragged about?

Stan jabbed his palm hard in the middle of Kevin's bare chest, shoving him right back over the same chair. Kevin sprawled over it and rolled into the pile of eight-tracks and junk.

"That's different, fuckhead. Jail's a whole different thing an' you know it!"

Kevin gathered himself, jumped up and landed a punch on the side of Stan's head, sending the very fucked up brother into Matt, both falling in a tangle of arms and legs onto Stan's bed.

While he recovered from the blow, glaring menacingly at poor naked and terrified Matt-- who was frantically scrambling to untangle himself from their accidental embrace-- Kevin spat at him,

"Well it ain't no different thing at home," he wasn't yelling now, "with you an' Mark fuckin' Peter all the time-- an' why the hell won't he let ME fuck him." He sounded bitter and jealous, rather than accusatory.

Stan jumped up and glared daggers at him, fist reared back to strike, "SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT IN FRONT OF THEM!" He shouted in a rage that made us all cringe. He pointed at Kevin, jabbing the air, "You're dead meat, mother fucker!" Then he realized that he had just confirmed it, so it wouldn't do him any good to deny it now. "When Mark finds out you said that..." he sputtered. "If I don't kill you first... You fuckin' stupid bitch."

Kevin glanced guiltily around the room at all of us and aimed his red face angrily at the filthy floor. There was silence for a moment, then Stan kinda shook himself and pointed his finger at each one of us in turn. He was clenching and unclenching his jaw and the veins in his temples were bulging. He spoke evenly, with a barely controlled quiver in his voice.

"Tell you what, mother fuckers: If I ever hear ANYTHING get back to me about this, you're dead. And I don't mean playlike. I mean I'll kill all three of you. I don't care who said what-- you're all three dead." We all instinctively felt that he meant it literally; and all of us were reasonably sure he was capable of carrying out the threat without a second thought.

He turned to Kevin and looked at him with contempt, "Now, you want me to kick your ass in front a your friends? Or you wanna step outside an' I'll do it in private so you don't look like the little fag you are?"

Kevin jerked his head up, his whole body shaking with his rage and humiliation. I watched real, undiluted hatred bubble up and pour out of him like lava, "YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF MOTHER FUCKER!" Which just had to wake the neighbors.

We watched in horror as they both lunged at each other in the same instant. I scrambled up the bed toward the window next to Billy to get out of the way. Matt and Billy both tried to make themselves invisible and stay out of the way as well. My high had been pretty much scared out of me, and I tried to see where my clothes were without moving enough to draw attention. I noticed neither Billy nor Matt dared to move enough to try and finish finding or putting their clothes on.

Stan and Kevin literally bounced off each other on the first lunge, with Kevin landing a fist in Stan's gut as they met, but tripping over somebody's clothes and his own feet, falling right back into the junk pile yet again. Stan had glanced a blow off Kevin's jaw, and stumbled back with his calves against his own bed, rowing his arms for balance to remain standing. Matt shrunk back against the wall on the bed, holding his hands up to stop Stan's fall if he lost his balance.

Kevin came up out of the pile of junk with an empty Bud longneck in his hand. Stan, I gauged, was just enough bigger than Kevin, that he probably won most of their fights. I figured that was why Kevin was willing to use a weapon, probably thinking Stan would back out and maybe leave us alone. At the same time, I thought maybe Kevin was really afraid Stan would start telling people, especially his brothers or parents, he was a fag; so he wanted to threaten him with real violence to stop that before it started. But then I thought of how he hadn't seemed to care that this many people knew he was fucking me. But I guess it would be different if Stan were to say he was `participating', implying or saying he reciprocated.

And of course, I had no idea how the revelation that Stan and Mark were fucking Peter was playing into all of this exactly; but it obviously was a big part of it.

He crouched with his arms spread wide, daring Stan to come after him. Stan took the dare and moved toward him confidently, eyes darting side to side to look for a weapon of his own.

Stan taunted Kevin, holding his hands out, beckoning, "Come on, pussy fag boy! Go for it!"

So Kevin reached out to the side and slammed the bottle over the metal side edge of, presumably, Stan's stereo, denting it and breaking barely a third of the bottom end of the bottle off. He menaced Stan with the jagged weapon. Stan judged the distance and tried a very swift kick at Kevin's hand with his steel toed work boots and missed, losing his balance and lurching into Kevin in the process.

I couldn't decide, in that split second, whether Kevin reacted instinctively, or whether he consciously took advantage of his brother's mistake; but he fucking stabbed him in the stomach!

HE STABBED HIS BROTHER IN THE STOMACH RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF THE THREE OF US! Well, he actually just kinda held the bottleneck firmly in place and Stan fell into it-- but he could have let it give way.

Billy screamed, jerked open the window and jumped out, naked, jeans in hand, and ran like hell into the night. I cried out and just about pissed the bed. Matt kinda yelped and curled himself up against the wall, staring at them in total shock, shaking like crazy.

Stan stopped in mid motion when the glass cut into his flesh. He stared open mouthed at Kevin. I watched his lips and cheeks twitch, eyes wide in disbelief. His face looked about like each of ours had when he threatened us, but it was shock, rather than fear.

Kevin looked stunned. He slowly looked down and saw how far it went in. Stan grabbed Kevin's hand over the bottleneck, looking down at it, his lips moving but no sound making it out. They stood there with their legs spread in between each other's like an incestuous Tango, Kevin's slimy limp dick and balls draped over Stan's jean clad thigh. They stared at the top of the king of beers label lodged in his abdomen, twitching as the muscles around it began to understand what had just happened to them.

An eerie silence filled the room and time stood still. A sinking feeling overtook me, and I could see the same on everyone else's face as well. Nobody moved a muscle for several very long seconds, except for Stan's silent lips.

The sheer volume of thoughts that ran through my head in that lapse of time is still amazing to me. I had this whole scenario of the history of this family, the love/hate relationships they all had, the violence that was such an everyday part of their existence. The stories I'd heard, the things I'd seen, just the way their conversations were violent. In that moment, I was surprised they hadn't killed each other long ago.

And I surprised myself when I realized I was curious, morbidly curious, to see how Stan would act, and what he would look like, dying. I had no idea if the wound was life threatening or not. It was in his stomach and to his left side a little, so I didn't think it hit any vital organs, but I didn't know. It was definitely a massive and very serious wound.

Like me, Matt was scared shitless. He wasn't even breathing. I don't guess I was either, as we watched Kevin and Stan both look at their hands over the bottleneck, blood just starting to trickle out.

It would have seemed a lot different if he'd been wearing a shirt. It wouldn't have been so REAL. We could SEE the flesh yield, could HEAR it when the glass sliced into him, could see it sink in devastatingly deep. It wasn't just a point. It was the whole damn circumference of the jagged bottle half, and I actually wondered if the circle of flesh would come out with the bottle like a cookie cutter when they pulled it out.

The first sound heard was Stan, like a hack in his throat, then a little moan. I watched his eyes flutter then kinda roll back in his head. He brought his other hand up to Kevin's shoulder and grasped it for stability, wobbled a little, but stayed in place for the moment. Kevin was in shock and didn't move. Then he looked up from their hands into his brother's face and went white as a ghost.

"I didn't-- Stan! I didn't mean to... Oh God! Oh God!" He started hyperventilating, but didn't move.

I heard footsteps and Darius came around the corner, asking what all the yelling was about, and saw the embedded bottle with blood trickling out and both their hands over the neck. He sprang backwards about three feet into the hallway.

He stomped his foot and put his hands over his ears as he yelled in horror, "OH FUCK DUDE! OH FUCK! WHA'D YOU DO?! OH, FUCK!"

"I didn't mean to..." Kevin offered weakly, sounding like he was about to cry. Everyone looked at the blottleneck and Kevin made a movement like he was going to pull it out.

Darius waved his hands frantically and yelled at him, "NO! DON'T PULL IT OUT!" He glanced at Matt and pointed backwards down the hall, "Go call 911! NOW!" We had only recently gotten 911 service in our area.

Matt jerked out of his shock, bouncing in place, then crawled off the bed and slunk cautiously, fearfully around the brothers and ran down the hall butt naked, with his tee shirt half on, one arm in and his head through the neck hole. Darius stepped up to them and put one hand on Stan's back and one hand on his chest, very gently getting him to step backwards.

"Don't move big or fast. Step back over here and sit on the bed real fuckin' slowly." He guided Stan back to his bed and helped him sit as slowly and evenly as possible. As they moved away from him, Kevin's hand stayed where it had been around the bottleneck, fingers still wrapped around empty air. Darius motioned with his head for me to help, "Come put all the pillows behind him so he can lay back a little. I was still stunned, not moving and he snapped at me, "DO IT!"

I scrambled off Kevin's bed and frantically gathered pillows, sheets, dirty clothes, everything soft I could find to pile behind him. Kevin sank to his knees and started crying.

"I'm so sorry, Stan! I didn't mean to do it! I'm so sorry!" He pleaded as he crawled on his hands and knees over to Stan, "Please don't die! Please don't fucking die!"

Stan was keeping his eyes closed mostly. He didn't acknowledge Kevin's pleading. He looked up at Darius with a grimace on his face, "Man, this fuckin' hurts, dude. Goddamn it hurts!" His voice was weak and he was breathing hard, which I could see was making it hurt even more, and causing blood to flow pretty freely around the bottle now and I could even see it puddling inside the amber glass.

I was extremely impressed with Darius, the way he stayed so calm and took control. "Don't talk Stan. Try to breathe as evenly as you can." He looked around at me and said, "Bobby, get dressed and go wake up his parents."

In unison, both Stan and Kevin barked an emphatic, "NO!"

Darius and I both looked at them in stunned disbelief. "What?!"

Kevin talked fast, "No! Don't wake them up! They'll kill us!"

Darius shook his head in piteous wonder, speaking like he was explaining to a small child, "Dude, Stan could die here! Don't you think you oughtta wake your parents up for this? I mean, we're a ways away from any hospital. I can't even think of where the closest one is, man. By the time they get here and get him to a hospital..."

Stan spoke up, "It don't matter, Darius. We just don't wake `em up for nothin'. We've had worse than this happen. Ya just don't wake `em up."

"I don't believe this shit! You tellin' me you would sit here and fuckin' DIE and not even wake your parents up and tell `em?! You fuckin' crazy mother fuckers! You're both fucking insane!"

"It's just the way it is, Darius," Kevin said to Stan's knee. "It's always just been that way. We don't wake `em up no matter what's goin' on. Dad'll go totally fuckin' crazy if we wake him up for any fuckin' reason."

Darius threw his hands up in frustration and sighed. "Ok, what-ever! I can't believe this shit, but..." His mind, at least, was working clearly though. After a moment of silence, he looked at me and said, "Go ahead and get dressed and go out in the living room and get all the roaches and pipes and shit and bring `em back here to put away. The cops'll come with `em and we don't need that shit sittin' around. You're eighteen, right?" I nodded yes, so he didn't have to worry about underage drinkers being present.

Matt came back in the room about that time and breathlessly announced, "They're on their way." He was white as a sheet and trembling, just like me, just like Kevin-- but Kevin was crying too. I couldn't help but wonder if he was crying because he stabbed his brother, or if he was crying at the thought of what his brother would do to him if he lived. Or for that matter, what Mark or his dad might do to him for this.

"Get dressed and help Bobby clean up shit," Darius barked at Matt. He looked back at Stan and asked in a soothing voice, "How ya doin'?"

I stood in the doorway with my pants in hand, trying to see around Darius to see Stan's face. He was trembling and his voice was even weaker than it had been moments ago.

"I'm kinda cold," was all he said. The blood was starting to soak into the sheets around him and he laid back further into the pile of pillows and closed his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, Stan!" Darius all but yelled to get him to look at him, then toned back down to soothing, "Hang in there, dude. Just hang in there. I was full a shit a bit ago when I said you could die from this. It's in your stomach. It won't kill you, ok? You're gonna be alright. Keep your eyes open and talk to us..."

Kevin was groveling at Stan's knees and begging him to forgive him and begging him to live. Matt and I finished getting dressed and went out to the living room, gathering up all the paraphernalia, too stunned to talk at first. I turned off the stereo and started emptying ashtrays into a Big Gulp cup and Matt picked up things and sat them right back down where they were. He was still just too stunned to function. He jumped when I spoke.

"Isn't that bong the only kinda pipe they were using?"

"Uh... Yeah, I think so. Where'd Billy go?" He asked as if I would know.

"I dunno. I guess home. I think he came in his own car."

"I can't believe he fuckin' stabbed him with a broken fuckin' bottle, dude." He stood in the middle of the room, shaking his head, tears welling in his eyes but not leaking out. "His own fuckin' brother. Fuuuuck."

I stopped and stood facing him, shaking my head as well, "No shit, man. Uh... you think he's gonna die?"

"Oh man, I dunno. Oh man, I hope not. Fuuuuck."

We heard a siren way off in the distance and snapped our heads up at the same instant. I remembered there was a fire station actually not that far away, in Fairmont Park. We both looked at each other with fear in our eyes. We knew the cops would be coming too. We were all of age for drinking, at eighteen, but even though we'd had the high scared out of us, we didn't know if the cops could tell we'd been on drugs anyway.

We both ran toward the back and Matt stopped and shoved the bong into a kitchen cabinet. I stopped and looked at him like he was stupid. He looked back at me like, `what?' and snapped, taking the bong back out and bringing it with him.

I thought I was prepared, thought I had already seen enough that I wouldn't be any more affected by it; but when I came around the corner and saw how much blood was all over Stan, his jeans soaked nearly all the way down over his workboots; and the bed, all the sheets for nearly two feet around him; and the floor, puddling in the only clear spot around; I just about lost it.

So much deep crimson. The rich color overwhelms every color around it. Knowing that it's living liquid, having watched it under a microscope in Biology class; I had a mental image of the blood draining life away from Stan and infusing the sheets around him with that spark, that essence.

Matt was right behind me, saying, "They're almost here. So what're we gonna tell `em?"

He rounded the corner, almost knocking me over and froze, kinda behind me looking over my shoulder. Darius was speaking a continuous stream of soothing words in Stan's ear, stroking his forehead softly. I couldn't believe my eyes, but Stan was smiling. Darius had his other hand on the topside of the bottle, meeting Kevin's left hand around the underside, both pressing a shirt or something around it, trying to stem the flow of blood-- unsuccessfully.

The blood had filled the bottleneck and was running out over the rim, which for some reason freaked me out worse than anything else I'd seen so far. It was like a keg tap, steadily running the red brew over the rim and down over Kevin's hand. Kevin was a basket case, feeling the warm blood flow over his knuckles, crying and mumbling into Stan's knee incoherently.

Darius interrupted his stream of words to Stan and looked back at us. He nodded his head down at Kevin, "Help him get dressed. Let me do all the talking. If they question us separately... uh... Say they got in an argument. Nobody knows-- well... over the stereo, yeah, over the stereo. Got that Kevin? Over-the-stereo!" he said each word extra clearly so Kevin would absorb it through his quiet hysteria. "So they started fighting and it escalated and the rest happened just like it did. It was an accident that Stan kinda fell into the bottle. Kevin didn't stab him with it, he just fell into it."

I said, "Well he did. I mean, he did kinda fall into it."

"Yeah," Matt added.

"Cool. Uh, where's Billy?"

Matt shoved the bong under Kevin's bed and chuckled, "He fuckin' screamed like a girl and went out the fuckin' window the second it happened and ran like a pussy." The three of us had a slightly tension relieving little laugh.

Kevin had his face right up in Stan's now, telling him to hang in there, the ambulance is almost here. Stan was still smiling, eyes closed. Kevin took Stan's bloody hand and squeezed. Stan twitched his fingers. Kevin kissed his cheek and asked him once again not to die. I blinked at that.

Matt and I pulled Kevin away and got him dressed. He was dazed, and almost as lifeless as Stan; so we had to do it all for him. I was the one who had to stuff his genitals into his pants, thinking back on the bizarre night as I did.

I couldn't really wrap my mind around it at that point, not even a little. I was shell-shocked, stealing glances at a blood drenched dying man while dressing his killer, who had fucked my virgin ass and `passed me around' like a toy. I guess it's not really surprising my naïve eighteen year old mind couldn't quite deal.

Three different versions of sirens out front, each dying at its own pace, poured in with the humidity through the open window, pulling us all out of our private thoughts and back into the stark reality of the moment. I looked at Stan, barely any sign of life, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible. So much blood. So fucking much blood. Darius stood, wiped his bloody hands on someone's discarded shirt and headed up front to direct the paramedics back to us.

***** ********* ***** ********* *****


That night was a major turning point in my life for many reasons, the glaring and the subtle, the base and the cerebral. I came face to face with mortality that night for the first time in my young life. Stan came within a heartbeat of dying, pulling through miraculously. But we didn't find that out until the next afternoon. The paramedics talking to each other at the scene made it sound like they quite frankly didn't think he would live, having lost so much blood from the deep laceration. One of them did tell us that if we had pulled the bottleneck out, he would definitely have been dead before they arrived.

So by the time Darius, Matt and I left the house after three in the morning, we were all pretty sure he had died. Amazingly, or stupidly if you prefer, none of us thought of calling the hospital to find out. Hell, we didn't even know what hospital they took him to. I sensed that none of us really wanted any further involvement with the Landry Boys. I knew I didn't.

Thinking I'd witnessed a man's death throes up close and personal, in crimson technicolor, did a real number on my head; and I know it did on the other's as well. Ridiculous as it was, I felt partly responsible. If I hadn't been there, or at least if I hadn't let Kevin manipulate me into sex, none of this would have happened. But then I realized something like this would probably have happened sooner or later; and it certainly wasn't in any way my fault Kevin stabbed his brother.

I tried to comprehend, at least a little, life for this family that was so foreign to me, how there could be so much anger and violence and yet be bonded with some kind of love. I pitied them their little culture of closeted love, yet I admired some things about them at the same time.

And of course, there were my numerous and life altering revelations before the fight. I had only a vague and fleeting sense that night of how irretrievably I was swept into a tide that would ultimately wash me clean and then let me get dirty again on my own terms. That night replayed itself occasionally in quiet moments for the rest of my days.

Darius was the obvious hero of the night. He convinced the Harris County Sheriff's it was an accident, and that their parents weren't home. They had been called to the house on numerous enough occasions to not be surprised at anything they found. Their parents never woke up, even with the sirens and paramedics banging the stretcher down the hallway and back. Fucking amazing.

When everyone was gone, Darius instructed that none of us would tell anyone what had happened that night, including what had brought this fight on. Kevin rode with Stan in the ambulance, so he and Billy were told the next day about the pact. I know everyone was more than happy to comply.

I was so grateful to Darius for both saving the day and handing my life back to me relatively intact, I fell in love with him-- in a way... I mean, I knew better, but I've always been drawn to strong men. So I worshipped him from afar for awhile. He was actually nicer and paid more attention to me after that night, and that made me admire him even more.

Let's see... Before meeting his future wife in '78, Matt and I got together a few times after that night and had awesome, memorable sex that I still think of as `making love'. And we both went all the way with each other, me taking his cherry about the third time we were together. He was a really special guy. He was tender and sensual and sexy and sweet, and I came this close to falling deeply in love with him.

But he made it very clear that he was: "Bi, but more straight. I just can't fall in love with a guy, ok? I enjoy what we do, but I don't feel `that kind' of love for you, like relationship love, know what I mean? But I really do like you a lot and, well... I do love you in some real and meaningful way, just not in a `mate' way." And I accepted that. I appreciated him for being the beautiful person he was and is. We lost contact with each other years ago, but I still think of him fairly often and get a warm glow in my heart, and yes, a stirring in my groin as well.

Matt told me Billy was really freaked out about that whole night, and talked for hours with him about it one time. But he never spoke to me about it. He didn't speak much to me anyway after that. He wasn't hostile or anything; he just avoided me, and that was fine with me.

I never even spoke to Kevin again. He hardly ever came to Kelly's Cue after that night. When we did see each other, we just acted like we didn't really know each other. And the few times I did see him, he looked like a changed man, quieter, kinda mellow. He went to work in the refineries along the ship channel as a pipefitter.

I'm glad I didn't hate or even resent him, and I always felt somehow that if circumstances had been different that night-- in other words, alone-- we could have had a mutually satisfying sexual relationship that summer. Is it pathetic to think that way? Who's to say?

From what Darius told me, Stan didn't retaliate for the stabbing and told people it was an accident. He said Stan told him he had a `near death experience' on the way to the hospital-- tunnel with white light and all-- and looked at life differently from then on. He got married in '79, to a girl none of us knew, and seemed to really take to the whole family life thing. He, his wife and four year old girl were all killed in a car wreck in '83, up by Austin on Labor Day, so they became a holiday statistic. Kevin moved out to California right after Stan and his family died. It seems like no one's heard from him since.

I guess none of the citizens of Kelly's Cue, which is long since closed, has any desire to ever go by their house to ask his folks how Kevin is doing, and none of us knew their other brothers well enough to go by and see any of them. I did hear that Peter went to New York and achieved some notoriety for his artwork, and someone said he came out as gay; but the source was a ditzy girl, so I don't know for sure.

As I said, that night changed my life. And I honestly don't regret it at all. Sure, I'd like for things to have gone differently, but I grew up a lot in those few eventful hours. By the next day, I knew my life had changed forever. One very significant thing I noticed, gradually, was that after that night, something in my personality changed: I no longer seemed to irritate people. I couldn't tell you what the difference was... I just found it easy to make friends and people seemed to like me.

In the fall of that year, I enrolled at the University of Houston and moved to the Montrose, where I rapidly immersed myself in the gay community and had a few blissful years as a sex pig slut. In the middle of that period, I met an amazing and wonderful man named Dennis, and we fell madly in love in 1980. We were both into the leather scene and into just about any and everything you can think of-- you name it, we tried it, more than once. I told him about that night and we debated whether that event caused me to become the sex pig I became, or whether I was born to be that way. It didn't really matter.

By 1987, ten years after my night of the long swords, I had already watched Dennis, the love of my life, die of AIDS, along with most of our friends; and I was full-blown as well. I dedicated the rest of my life to fighting for PWA care and funding, and safe sex education.

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Author's Epilogue:

Bobby told me his story and I've tried to relay it in his words, with his thoughts and his emotions as much as I could. It was hard to watch his deterioration happen before my eyes over the months at the end. He was bedridden by the time he told me this story, and I got a few of the details from Matt a couple of years later.

Robert Alvin Wheaton died of AIDS complications in 1990, two weeks before his 31st birthday, as his mother and several of his closest remaining friends and I sat in vigil. He was a brave, kind and generous man, full of love and life, poignantly displaying himself as a brutal reminder of why we should all have safe sex. I count myself lucky to have known him, to have been his friend. I really miss him.


I hope you enjoyed the story! I'd really love to hear what you thought of it. Write to me at: desertmac2000@yahoo.com

Also, check out my continuing story, Tutoring Jerry, in the `high school' section. (I have no idea what section David will put this story in, lol) and check out my website: www.geocities.com/desertmac2000/ where you'll find naked pics of the main Tutoring Jerry characters. If I can find good matches, I'll put pics of the Bobby's Tale characters on there as well; but I haven't found those yet, as of late September, '03.

Bobby's Tale is also on Literotica and eroticstories.com, so you can go to either of those sites and vote for it if you really like it. I would appreciate that! (Note: This version here on Nifty is slightly `leaner' than the version on eroticstories.com) Thanks! Mac