Date: Tue, 20 Apr 2021 13:49:23 -0400
From: Xhaiden Angel <xangel.author@gmail.com>
Subject: Little Stevie Part 1

It all started when Little Stevie Holden showed up at a Halloween party in
a toga. And nothing else. Sure, he was wearing sandals but they don't count
when everybody can see everything else.

When he walked into the place, nobody saw his shaggy brown curls, his cute
round face, or his adorable attempt to grow a beard for his Zeus costume.
Nobody saw the short blue sheet, open on both sides and tied with a gold
rope. No, when Little Stevie walked in, all everybody saw was, well, Little
Stevie. All of him, because he wasn't wearing underwear beneath his toga.

Little Stevie stood five feet, two inches. Football spread out his chest
and bulked up his arms. Basketball made sure his legs and abs filled out.
Swimming kept him lean and toned. Stevie was a compact stack of muscle and
thick black hair. Except for his upper shoulders, the middle of his back,
and both sides, he was covered in the stuff.

I was there the night Little Stevie strutted into that Halloween party. I
was sitting on the counter in the kitchen and I could see the reaction his
hot little body got from everybody. And I do mean, EVERYbody. Girls were
checking him out. Gay dudes were checking him out. He ate it up, flexing
and posing for them. The thing that surprised me, though? Our school's
mascot, Phillip Robertson, spit out his beer when Little Stevie came in.

Phillip was lean, almost wiry, and had a sweet smile. He was personable and
polite, one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. By all accounts and the
string of girlfriends he'd had since sixth grade, Phillip was also very,
very straight.

A comment Little Stevie made, posing in his Zeus costume, his curly black
hair spilling down over his shoulders, started this whole thing. See, one
of the girls came up to him and asked to touch his muscles -- his chest
muscles, in particular. A gay dude in a Thor costume asked the same thing.
Stevie flashed them a crooked smile, flexed one arm, and said, "What's it
worth to you?"

"A cold beer," the Thor-wanna-be said with a smile. "And five dollars."

"Tempting," Little Stevie replied. "How about you, Wonder Woman?"

The girl in the movie-version costume said, "I have six dollars."

From behind him, another guy said, "I'll give you ten to feel you up!"

"I'll double it if you bare your chest!"

"Fuck that, I'll give you a hundred dollars if you strip down to just your
sandals!"

This last offer got Little Stevie's attention. So much so, he pushed the
shoulder part of the toga off, baring his chest and causing the thing to
sag at the waist. His sharp V was visible and so was a thick tuft of what
everybody knew was pubic hair.

I jumped off the counter and sprinted into the living room. "Hold up, hold
up!" I raised my hand and did a quick turn around Little Stevie. "Anybody
putting up money for the goods needs to show they have it!"

From under the guy's Spartan 300 skirt, the guy in question produced a
wadded up one-hundred dollar bill. He smiled as he straightened it out. He
waved it around, I'm guessing, to air it out. Only one place he could have
been keeping that thing in his costume. I smiled and turned to Little
Stevie.

"If you strip down, you can still keep your lightning bolt covered," I told
him with a wink.

"Screw that!" Another guy said, coming forward. "I got one-fifty if he
strips down...and lets me take off the costume!"

A guy in a Batman cowl, cape, and black briefs came forward. "I'll give you
two hundred dollars if you let me take off the costume, run my hands over
your sweet pecs and abs, then have you sit on my lap for a full hour so I
can keep doing it."

Some of the girls giggled but the gay dudes in the room knew, this shit
just got real. We went from playful fun to a semi-sexual sitch and they all
knew it.

Spartan produced another two hundred and came around the couch. "Maybe you
let me strip you down and you do a very sexy dance for all of us, instead."

Little Stevie took the gold rope holding his costume up and offered it to
the Spartan. Behind him, Batman whipped out the same cash plus twenty
bucks. "Get naked...and let me suck your dick."

The music stopped.

"You serious?" Little Stevie asked with a smirk. "I get two hundred twenty
bucks -- and a blowjob?"

"I'll even swallow."

"I got two fifty," Spartan said. "And some change in my car."

Batman unfolded another hundred from a pocket in his cape. "Three large.
And you can face-fuck the hell out of me." He smiled. "In front of
everybody."

Striding out of the kitchen, dressed in a piece of green ivy, a green
jockstrap, and a pair of green sandals, one of the prettiest ginger men
you'll ever see in your fucking life waved five one-hundred dollar bills at
Little Stevie. Several of the party guests moved out of his way as he
sauntered up to the guy.

"No phones, no pictures," Male Poison Ivy said, waving the money. "I'll
give you five hundred dollars, a cold beer, blowjob, and the tightest ass
in this house."

He turned around to show off a pale, tight-cheeked peach of an ass that
every gay dude in the house would want to fondle and almost all would want
to fuck. When he turned back, Little Stevie was already pulling on the gold
rope. Batman and Spartan knew they'd been beat. Needless to say, the whole
party moved into the kitchen. Me and some other guys collected all the
phones into a basket and put them in a cabinet under the island.

"I'm Chet," Poison Ivy said. "If you're going to put your dick in my mouth
and let you fuck me, it's best we know each other, am I right?" When the
other guy nodded, Chet took hold of the gold rope. "Guess this honor is
mine, too."

In a moment right out of a porn flick, Little Stevie's toga fell to the
floor and everybody fucking gasped. Looking at this dark-skinned, hairy god
naked, except for the sandals, was a sight to see! I noticed Phillip toward
the back of the room. The fucker got a stool to stand on so he wouldn't
miss anything. While he was doing this, while everybody was gawking, I took
Chet's money.

Watching him get to his knees was pretty hot. Erotic, even. Chet rubbed
each of Stevie's legs, running his hands all over the hard muscle and thick
hair. It did the right thing and soon, Big Stevie rose to the occasion.

Everybody oo-ed and ah-ed at this.

Chet didn't waste any time. He put his mouth on the hooded head and sucked
the skin. His tongue moved in around it, licking at the head and tasting
what had to be some sweaty goodness. As he was taking the first few inches,
Batman stepped out from the crowd and shoved his money into my hand. He got
in behind Little Stevie and started licking -- from his ankles up. Spartan
did the same thing, shoving his money at me, then straddling Batman to
start rubbing on Stevie's back and sides.

To his credit, Little Stevie welcomed the attention. Between you and me,
though? I think he welcomed the money more than anything else. He was just
given almost a grand for three college dudes to worship every inch of his
body.

Batman and the Spartan were hungry fucks! They mouthed, licked, and sucked
every inch they could. Batman spread Stevie's cheeks and Spartan dove
in. By this time, Chet had Big Stevie oozing pre-cum like a faucet had
opened. Chet moved off the thick head and pulled on the foreskin. This sent
Little Stevie into a mini-frenzy and a pool of pre-cum appeared on the
floor. Spartan fell in it and started licking it up.

I shot Phillip a look. He was mesmerized by what was going on. His mouth
was hanging open as he watched Chet mouthing that uncut dick.

The gathered crowd gave the four of them plenty of room but Chet was not
going to be fucked on the floor. No, sir! He got up on the island and
spread both legs. Some girl handed Little Stevie a glass bottle of
expensive olive oil and Spartan got down on his hands and knees. Little
Stevie greased his dick, then got up on HIS hands and knees -- on Spartan's
back. This put at the perfect height for two things to happen. One, he slid
into Chet's ass like it was nothing. Two, it let Batman have complete
access to the furry peach that was Stevie's ass.

Phillip's mouth watered the whole time.

It's pretty important to tell you, Phillip had dressed as a movie geek.
Tight shirt, high-waisted pants, suspenders, pocket-protector, the whole
nine. It was a cute look but he wore khakis, not jeans. Anybody looking in
his general direction could see the wet spot on his crotch. When Stevie
slid into Chet and started fucking, the spot got even bigger.

In his position, Spartan could get to Batman's bat-pole and he gave it one
hell of a cleaning. His Hoover-mouth polished every inch and kept going
long after Batman gave up eating out Stevie's hole. While they went at one
another, Chet was getting his ass royally fucked.

Little Stevie was slow and methodical but his wrist-thick dick went in
head-to-balls every time. He stretched out that ass like he was trying to
make taffy out of it. Chet grabbed at him, hoping to take hold of his chest
or his arms but Stevie had braced himself on the counter in such a way as
to get the deepest penetration. This made his slick, hairy body hard to
hold.

"Goddamn," Chet groaned, his head rolling from side to side. "Fuck me, you
fucking animal!"

Grinning, Little Stevie brought his whole body up onto the island. Settling
on his knees, he brought Chet's legs up and over his shoulders. Using one
hand to hold the guy down, he used the other to hold Chet's mouth shut.

Then, he started fucking for real.

"Shit," one of the guys said, shaking his head.

"He's...a monster," one of the girls said, amazed.

"He's fucking perfect," Phillip muttered from the door -- but only I heard
it. "Perfect."

In a short amount of time, Chet was fucked so hard that his shoulders were
pushed to the edge of the island, his head hung off the side. His legs
gripped at Stevie's body, his heels dug into his back. When his mouth was
uncovered, all he could do was scream. Batman poured extra oil on Stevie's
dick while Spartan took some for himself. Taller than Batman, it was easy
enough for him to slip his own bat-pole into the guy's ass.

"Slower! Fuck...oh, FUCK...slow down! FUCK!" Chet shouted.

Little Stevie didn't listen. He kept going, giving Chet his money's
worth. He fucked harder, driving Chet into the arms of someone dressed like
a sexy clown. This new addition to the fucking just grinned down at the
hard plowing Chet was getting and how Big Stevie just kept getting thicker
and thicker.

"Gotta do it," Little Stevie said. "Cumming..."

He pressed hard on Chet's stomach as he buried himself in the boy's
ass. Girls gasped. Guys laughed. Almost everybody cheered as cum began
pouring out of Chet's well-fucked ass. Batman and Spartan were lost in the
crowd as everybody fist-pumped and roared out their approval. Stevie just
kept going. And going. And fucking going!

Chet was begging him to stop by the end of it. I was laughing because I
knew Chet didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. By the looks of him,
Phillip wanted to know.

"Jesus," Chet gasped. Sexy Clown kept holding him under the arms. "My ass
is pulverized!"

Little Stevie grinned. "Got your money's worth, though, didn't you?"

"Oh, fuck, yeah!"

When Stevie backed off him, Chet revealed to everyone that he'd flooded his
jock. Cum ran down his stomach, down his thighs and legs, and plastered the
green material to his body. He sat up on the island and still more cum ran
out of his ass.

"I am NOT cleaning that up," Wonder Woman said, exiting the kitchen.
"You're on your own with that shit, big brother!"

Laughter erupted as some people started following her out of the room.
Music started up again and almost everybody went back to the living room.
People who stayed, just to watch Stevie, refilled their drinks and milled
around with each other. I watched Phillip get down off his chair and
disappear out the front door. I knew why and I would handle it later.

Through the course of the night, Little Stevie picked up another easy fifty
bucks from people wanting to pinch a nipple, touch a pec, kiss an ab, and
even fondle his dick. That last bit got him another twenty. He walked out
of that party with almost a grand in his pocket. Well, MY pocket, but you
get the gist. Not bad for coming to a get-together in just a sheet and
sandals, right?

* Part 1 -- End *