Date: Wed, 24 Dec 2003 13:22:48 EST
From: Badgod69@aol.com
Subject: DRUNK SKINHEADS FUCK

This is another recollection about my skinhead buddy Choke, who in high
school became my skinhead mentor, my best friend, and my secret sex buddy.

Choke (his real name was Chuck, or Charlie) was a junior in school while I
was a sophomore, which means that at the time this story occurred he was 17
and I was 16 years old.  We had already started fucking around by this
time; it had been going on for about a month.  It all started when Choke
and I teamed up to perform a scene in drama class.  He was new to our
school, having recently relocated to California from New Jersey, due to his
dad being transferred out west.  His dad worked for some financial service
organization, I forget what it was called.  Choke was the oldest kid in his
family; he had a younger sister and brother, 13 and 11 respectively.  His
dad had divorced his mom a couple of years before they made the move out to
California and his father got custody of all the kids.  Choke never really
did explain the whole divorce situation to me, or why his dad got custody.
I guess maybe his mom was a drunk or unstable or something.

After getting to know each other pretty well at school, Choke and I quickly
became aware that we were sexually excited by each other, a fact that we
actually talked about several times.  Choke was extremely open-minded when
it came to things sexual.  I believe he would have fucked anything if it
was animate and if he was horny enough. The first time we did anything
sexual together was at my house, the first time he came over to rehearse
our scene.  I had only known him for about a week, maybe a week and a half
at the most.  We had gone into my bedroom to rehearse, but it ended up with
Choke and me giving each other a blow job and him fucking me (my first
experience of being penetrated) while my family was in the living room.  We
had been talking about our thoughts on sex with guys for the past week,
both on the phone and when we were together.  I had told Choke about
fucking around with my two-years-older-than-me nephew and he couldn't get
enough of it.  He loved hearing me tell him about all the wild shit we'd
get up to whenever our families visited each other during vacations.  Choke
preferred fucking girls but he was fine with fucking guys, too, if the
situation was right, he'd told me.  He was clearly bisexual, while I was
mostly confused but predominantly queer.  I still had girlfriends and
fucked them whenever I could, which was not often enough.  Since that first
time together, he was my best buddy and we had a brotherly sort of
relationship.  My parents were not terribly happy about my new friend or my
new look.  I had been getting into trouble since 5th grade, but now they
were really freaked out, especially by my look and attitude at home.  I was
still me, but I understand now that the whole skinhead style must have
seemed pretty scary and alien to them.  I was cutting school regularly, I
swore like a Marine, kept my head shaved to the skin, started partying hard
even on weeknights, listened to music so loud that it rattled the windows,
and began to generally misbehave like I never had before.

The coolest thing about it all to me was the fact that nobody really fucked
with you when they saw you walking around looking like we did.  We dressed
in the classic old-school style - tight jeans rolled up to show off our
clunky, black, steel-toed boots, suspenders over white t-shirts or a Ben
Sherman (if you could afford it or find one locally) or something close to
one in looks and style.  We were wearing black derby jackets back then, and
Choke also had a sharp, black crombie (that's an overcoat, but tailored and
sleek) that was lined with red satiny material.  I remember how hot that
crombie looked on him, especially when he was wearing one of his old, torn
wifebeaters and suspenders under it.  Flight jackets weren't really big
with skins yet (this was early '70s), at least not where I was from, but
Choke did have one which he gave to me.  That flight jacket was my pride
and joy.  It stank like Choke's sweat after I'd wear if for a while and it
got warmed up from my own body heat.  I can't even remember how many times
I jacked off in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, naked except
for that jacket and my boots.  The skinhead style was still a fairly new
look to most people, especially on the West Coast.  People stared a lot,
and if our whole skinhead crew from school was walking together (about 9 or
us) everybody just stopped what they were doing and stared at us.  It was
hilarious and exhilarating.  It felt good to be part of something that had
that kind of power.  But more, it was about the sense of brotherhood within
the unit.  At least, for the others.  For me it was all about Choke.  The
other skins and their girlfriends -- who were now sporting the Chelsea Girl
look -- were mostly pretty stupid-but-fun bros to be around, especially if
you were feeling raucous, frustrated, and/or drunk.  Which, as a group, we
all were a lot of the time.  I usually just hung out with Choke and skipped
lots of the group stuff they'd get up to.  For me, being a skinhead meant
being like Choke and what he was teaching me about the whole scene and the
music and some of the radical politics - both left and right -- that were
just beginning to have some influence on the whole scene.  It was more
about how we thought and behaved and what our code of honor was, including
how we dressed and what it stood for, than it was about getting together
with a bunch of jocks from high school and getting drunk and wrecking shit
up.  I did my share of that, no doubt about it, but nothing nearly like
what they all did, including Choke.

Anyway, that's the introduction.

We were now practically inseparable and we hung out together whenever we
could.  Choke usually came to my house cuz we didn't want to be bothered by
his little brother and sister, which he assured me would be a problem if I
came over to his house.  One afternoon after school while we were
shoplifting some liquor from the local supermarket he DID invite me over,
though.  I asked him if his family was gone for the day or what, curious as
to why he was inviting me over for the first time.  He told me that no,
they were all home, but that he would just kick his sibs asses if they
bothered us; he also told me that his dad was pretty cool.  And he told me
that he wanted me to come over so we could mess around.  He said he'd pick
me up around 6 pm, after dinner, and that I should tell my parents that we
were going to be studying together.  Why I thought my parents would believe
this, I don't know.  In any case, they didn't tell me "no", probably
because they knew it wouldn't have mattered, anyway.  When I heard Choke
pull up in our driveway in his old Ford truck I grabbed my backpack and
stomped out the front door.  I knew my parents would start quizzing us if
he came in and I wanted to avoid that.

Choke lived in a pretty nice house on the other side of town, heading up
into the foothills.  It was a much nicer house than I lived in.  I wondered
if this was one of the reasons that he had been reluctant to invite me over
before - the skinhead ethic is largely lower middle-class, and this house
was clearly a cut above lower middle-class.  I didn't care at all, but I
think Choke might have imagined I'd think less of him if I knew his dad had
money and could afford to put them up in a fancy house in the hills.

When we pulled up in his driveway, his little brother was goofing around
outside on the front lawn.  He came galloping up to the truck as it came to
a stop.  Choke told me his name was Peter just before he bellowed out the
window for him to leave us the fuck alone.

The poor kid's face fell like a ton of bricks.  I felt sorry for him; he
looked OK and seemed just like any other 11 year-old kid.  As I got out I
said hello to him and asked him what grade he was in.  He just stared at me
for a second and then back at Choke who was getting out of the truck,
probably confused about whether or not he should speak to me or just get
the hell out of there before Choke could grab him.  Choke was turned away
from his brother and rolled his eyes at me when I spoke to Peter.

"I'm in 6th grade," he said quietly.  He was a good-looking boy with a
mouthful of braces; I could see traces of Choke in his younger, softer
features.  I knew he'd grow up to be a heartbreaker.

"Now get the fuck away from us, maggot, and don't bug us when we get
inside.  We have a shitload of homework to do and I don't wanna have to
kick your scrawny little ass back to Jersey," Choke growled at him, and
Peter scampered away.

"God, you're a dick," I laughed at Choke who started snickering, too, while
we watched his brother hurry off.

"If he was your bro, you'd understand, man," was all he said.  "C'mon."  He
started walking towards the side of the house.

He led us into their backyard and we entered through the sliding glass
doors that opened up onto a deck.  His dad was in the den watching
T.V. with a cocktail of some sort in his hand.

"Hello, men," his dad said, smiling.  "Chuck, I told you to get going on
your homework.  Where have you been?"

"Picking him up," Choke replied with a hint of frustration in his voice and
jerking his thumb towards me.  "We're gonna study together."

"Oh, fine then.  What's your friend's name?" he continued, peering at me
good-naturedly.

"Oh, this is - Oswald," Choke replied cheerily, winking at me.  My name is
Dan.

"Nice to meet you, Oswald," his dad said, rising and extending his hand for
me to shake.  He seemed like a decent enough guy.  He was a bit taller than
Choke and had probably once had a nice body.  But he had a big pot belly
now.  He was also balding and wore wire frame glasses.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," I responded, shaking his hand.

"People call you Oswald or Ozzie?" he asked as he released my hand.

I was just about to answer when Choke said, "People call him 'stud'!" as he
laughed loud and motioned for me to follow him deeper into the house.

His dad just smiled and shook his head as he sat back down.

"Nice meeting you, Stud!" he sang out sarcastically as I disappeared behind
Choke into the darkness of the house.

As we walked through the darkened house it struck me that this was where my
best buddy actually lived.  Everything about Choke fascinated me.  We
walked into the kitchen and he flipped on the light.  It was about 2 times
as large as my family's kitchen.

"Want anything?" he asked me as he opened the refrigerator.

"Nah.  You got the scotch, right?" I whispered.

"Yeah, it's under my bed," he replied.  He grabbed himself a couple of
fried chicken legs from a bowl in the 'fridge and yanked off a handful of
paper towels from the dispenser.  He passed me and walked out of the
kitchen and turned the light off.  As he passed me he used his free hand to
give my crotch a grab, then rubbed his hand over the mound in my jeans a
few times.  He suddenly bent his knees a bit, leaned back against the wall
and moved his fist up and down fast, like he was jerking off, then smiled
that mischievous smile of his, revealing the slight gap between his 2 front
teeth.  That gap made him look adorable, almost like a big kid himself.

Maybe I should take a moment here to describe him.  Choke looked more like
20 than his actual 17 years.  His eyes were a deep, piercing blue and if
he'd let his hair grow it would have been a light brown.  He was much
taller than me, about 6', and weighed a strapping 160 lbs or so.  By
comparison, I stood about 5'6" and weighed around 130 at that time.  His
ears stuck out a bit from his head, giving him a slight case of "jug ears",
and when he smiled that wide, knowing grin of his, well, that's when you
got to see that sexy little gap between his front teeth. He was constantly
in motion, tapping his foot or drumming his fingers on any surface he could
find.  He must have heard music in his head most of the time, because it
would frequently be bobbing along to some secret rhythm that only he could
hear.  I used to tease him about it by saying, "what're the lyrics?"  He'd
respond immediately, bursting into whatever song he had in his head.  When
he was naked his youth was more evident.  He was muscular but still sort of
lanky in that adolescent way.  His legs and forearms were covered with
golden brown hair, and the hair in his pits was thick, dark, and fragrant.
His skin was pale and perfectly unblemished except for a few homemade
tattoos - one on his upper right arm that spelled 'honor', one below his
left hip that spelled 'fuck', and another one on his right calf that was a
crude, confusing mess that looked like it might have been a cross of some
sort.  I was one of the few to actually know why he was nicknamed Choke --
it was because of the huge cock that hung heavily between his legs.  When
he was hard it was well over 9 inches (we measured it), and his balls were
in proportion.  They swung low and heavy, like a sack of marbles.  They
were dusted with light brown hair, too.  There was a thin trail of brown
hair leading down to his pubes, which were lush and full of a heady aroma
that was enough to make me spurt without even touching my dick when we were
fucking around.  His chest was pretty smooth now, but he had a thin
smattering of golden brown hair splashed across his upper pecs that I knew
would become thicker as he got older.  All-in-all, this guy was awesome
looking.  Most of the girls at school were infatuated with him, and his
easy manner and goofy charm got him laid over and over again.  He'd always
call me as soon as he got home from fucking some girl, giving me all the
juicy details and comparing them to past conquests.  This shared intimacy
only brought us closer together.

When we got a little ways down the darkened hallway leading to the
bedrooms, I thought I could smell a hint of something sharp and familiar
but I couldn't exactly place it.  When he stopped in front of his room and
opened the door, the scent came flooding out even stronger and I knew
precisely what it was.  His bedroom smelled like a locker room.  He flicked
the overhead light on and we went in, then he closed and locked the door.
My dick was as hard as it could be without exploding, and the smell of his
room made the precum start flowing out of my cock like someone had left a
faucet dripping.  Three major items grabbed my attention - his bed, his
desk, and his bench press set-up.  There were posters covering much of the
available wall space.  Snarling skinheads stared down at me from the walls,
the posters announcing this or that band and where they were performing.  I
noticed that most of the venues were in New Jersey or New York.  He had a
big Union Jack flag on one wall, a German battle flag on another wall, and
a U.S. flag hanging over his unmade bed.  It almost felt like I was in some
bizarre sort of military recruiting office.  He had spray-painted his
windows black so that no light could get in and no one could see in.  His
desk was littered with papers and books and plates with old, greasy paper
towels crumpled up on them.  The trash can next to his desk was overflowing
with beer bottles and soda cans, mostly beer bottles.  Like any typical
teenager, his clothes were strewn everywhere.  I noticed in one corner
there was a mound of dirty t-shirts and briefs and socks.  Next to it was a
heap of unwashed jeans, shorts, and sweatshirts.  Stained, navy blue
sweatpants and an old sleeveless sweatshirt were lying on top of his
rumpled bed, blankets tangled and the sheets dingy and stiff.  The smell in
his room was incredible.  All the unwashed clothes and the fact that his
windows appeared to be hermetically sealed contributed to this aroma, a
potent combination of stale sweat, dirty feet, and that unmistakable smell
of adolescent sperm, sharp and bleachy, strong and acrid.  I couldn't
breath it in deeply enough.  This was the smell of a real guy's bedroom,
indifferent to the delicate sensibilities of a culture that told us what
was acceptable and what wasn't.

He pushed me out of the way as he flung himself onto his bed, laughing as
he bounced from the impact once or twice.

"Get your ass over here, faggot!" he barked as he patted the cum stained
sheets next to him on the twin-sized mattress, laughing, and taking a huge
bite out of a chicken leg.

"I don't know, man, I got a feeling you're a fuckin' queer," I said.  "My
ass may be in trouble if I sit near you."

"Only if you offer it up, bro!" he shot back, chewing and grinning like his
head was gonna break in two.

He turned his back to me and reached under his bed as I lunged onto it next
to him.  I landed stomach-side down and I noticed the slightly sour, stale
smell of his pillowcases and sheets.  My cock pumped out another little
burst of precum.  When he turned back around he held aloft the bottle of
scotch that we had shoplifted earlier, like it was a trophy.  We had been
drinking almost every night for the past week or so, a pattern that would
continue for most of the next year.  After he broke open the fifth of
scotch he handed it to me so I could take the first swig while he consumed
the rest of the drumstick.  I guzzled that shit down in 3 or 4 good-sized
gulps, then handed the bottle over to him.  He leaned back with his head
resting against the wall, wrapped his lips around the neck after running
his tongue suggestively around it, and took a long, long draw on the
bottle.  When he was finished he held it up and we looked at how much we
had just drunk.  The bottle was about 2/3 full.  I could already feel the
hot, sharp sting of the scotch in my stomach start to become a pleasantly
warm glow throughout my body.  My dick was getting crazy in my jeans.  He
reached over to me and yanked my t-shirt out of my Levis so he could run
his hand up under it.  The feel of his warm, rough hand made me shiver, and
when his hand touched my nipples I groaned.  His hand was all over my chest
and stomach.  He tried to get his hand down the front of my jeans but they
were too tight and he couldn't do it.  We laughed.

I got up and took off my jacket and tossed it across the room.  I lowered
the suspenders off my shoulders and let them hang on either side of my
hips.  Choke was looking at me lecherously the whole time, taking small
swigs from the bottle as his eyes glittered with horniness.  I sat down on
the floor so I could unlace and pull my boots off.  Choke burped loud, then
swung himself sideways and stretched out on his stomach, watching my every
move.  He was propped up on his elbows with his legs bent so his boots were
up in the air.

"So what are we doing?" I asked as I continued to struggle with my boots.

"Not homework!" he bellowed as he laughed his ass off and wiggled his big,
size 13 booted feet back and forth in the air.  He was acting like an
excited, little kid with a really good secret he's dying to tell.  When I
got my boots off I stood up and looked at him lying on his bed.  His ass
looked so awesome, firm and tight and perfectly rounded with hard muscle.
His Levis looked like they were spray-painted onto his butt.  I caught a
glimpse of myself in the mirror that was attached to one of the sliding
doors of his closet.  It looked like I had a cheese log hidden under the
tight denim of my jeans.  He reached out one of his big mitts and grabbed
at my crotch.  I jumped back, laughing, and kicked out with a sweaty,
sock-covered foot.  It landed squarely in his face which knocked his head
back hard.  He leapt off the bed, red-faced and smiling that mean smile of
his and got me in a headlock.

"Fuck you, asshole!  You coulda broke my neck, motherfucker!' he muttered
between gritted teeth as he laughed his grim, mirthless
"I'm-gonna-kick-your-ass-now" chuckle.  I was bent double, face aimed
directly at his crotch.  I could feel and smell the wet, warm sweat of his
underarm on the back on my neck.

"Let go, fuckwad, or I'll bite your fuckin' dick off!" I shouted back,
pushing at him and laughing with some labor as he increased the pressure of
his grip on my throat.  "Let go!"

He let me go and gave me a hard shove that sent me crashing into his closet
door.  We were both laughing loud and maliciously, full of booze and raging
hormones.  We liked being rough with each other.  Sometimes it hurt bad but
that was all part of the creed.  You took it like a man, and gave worse
than you got.

We both heard his dad yell at us from the other end of the house.  We
couldn't make out what he was saying, but we froze and looked at each other
in surprise for a moment, then started snickering like imps.  Choke went
over to his stereo and put on some music. It was loud enough to drown out
our own voices, let alone his dad's.

"You better turn it down some, faggot, or your old man's gonna raise hell.
We don't want him in here, do we now?" I said, my voice full of brotherly
sarcasm.

Choke just turned to face the long mirror while he took another healthy
chug from the bottle.  When he was done he tossed it to me.  I tilted the
bottle back and took a long pull.  He was gazing at himself in the mirror,
dancing close to it, then backing away.  He was moving seductively,
grinding his hips in a slow, sensual circle, one hand roaming over his
belly while the other hand held his sweaty t-shirt up past his wide,
reddish brown nipples.

"Damn, I'd fuck myself if I could!" he sighed as he watched his reflection
in the mirror.  Then he did something that got me totally turned on.  He
moved in close to the mirror and pressed his crotch up against it, humping
his own reflection while he kissed his own lips in the mirror.  That image
was so sexy to me, I remember it still like it happened yesterday.

I joined him at the mirror, standing side-by-side.  He reached over and
draped one arm around my shoulders.  Then he pulled me into him and turned
my head towards his so he could ram his tongue down my throat.  It felt so
good to feel the force of his muscle-tongue go on a liquor-fueled rampage
in my mouth.  Making out with Choke was like oral wrestling.  It got me so
fucking worked up that I pulled his hips into mine so we could rub our
crotches together.  Even through the thick denim I could feel his enormous
hardness and I knew he could feel mine.

We stood like that, swaying and grinding together, mouths glued to each
other for a couple of minutes.  We drew back and looked down at our bulging
jeans, hands fumbling with the fabric as we groped and grasped the heavy
cum-guns beneath it.

He punched me hard in the chest, sending me backwards.  I stumbled but kept
standing as he moved to the stereo to turn it down some.  At last I could
hear him without his having to shout over the music.  The tunes were having
an obvious effect on both of us; dripping with testosterone, the songs were
barked out more than sung, the drums fast and furious, guitars slashing out
with a repetitive, martial cadence.  And all that alcohol only added to the
fury of our hungry lust for each other.

"OK, strip!" Choke bellowed at me, starting to take his clothes off.  He
sat down on the end of his bed and started the process of removing his big
boots.  I told him to put his boots back on once he had everything else
off.  He told me to do the same.  We laughed in excitement.  Stripping was
something of a ritual for us; it was done in a way that amped us up for
nasty fun.  We took turns stripping and watching.  He dropped his
suspenders and then peeled off his sweat-infused t-shirt while I watched,
then I did the same while he watched.  It took a little time to get naked
this way but it was well worth the wait.  We were both now bare-chested
with only our jeans and underwear and socks still on.  The combined stink
of our dirty sweat socks amped up the already potent smell of his room.
Choke unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and then pushed them down and exposed
his dingy tighty-whities with that massive piece of meat inside them.  The
purple helmet of his cock head and an inch or so of shaft stuck out the
side of his briefs.  Precum flecked the front of his underpants, making
dark spots on the fabric where it had soaked in.  I whistled long and low
when I saw that, and he smiled wide and let his tongue hang out while he
pulled the waistband of his briefs down and hooked it under his huge, hairy
balls.  He laughed maniacally while he rotated his hips, making his thick,
heavy cock swing back and forth before finally making complete circles.  I
had already opened my jeans and pushed my sweaty briefs and pants down
around my ankles.  My cock was smaller than his, about 7 1/2 inches, but it
was still a beauty.  My nuts were hanging nicely tonight and were full of
jizz just waiting to spout.  When he saw how hard and red my cock was he
laughed and pulled his pants and briefs off in one move, in one unit.  Now
all he had on were his dirty socks as he leaned over to pull his boots back
on.  I did the same.  When we were geared up again the way we liked it, he
motioned me over to where he was seated on his bed.  I sat next to him and
we looked at ourselves in the mirror.  We looked sexy as hell, sweat
glistening on our flesh, cocks stiff and throbbing as we jacked each other
off a bit.

I stood up and turned to face him, presenting him my hard dick to suck as I
leaned back and thrust my hips out towards his face.  He had a drunken grin
on his mug and he licked his lips before opening wide to swallow my cock to
the root.  Just as he was about to envelop it, I smacked him hard in the
face and told him to do a good job.  This only made him pissed off and more
horny, like it usually did.  I nearly passed out from the hot, silky feel
of his mouth wrapped around my prick.  He was an excellent cocksucker and
he told me he really liked how it felt to have a skinhead bro's cock
ramming his tonsils and punching the back of his throat.  I grabbed his
stubbly head and ran my hands over it, loving the rough sensation of his
prickly scalp under my hands, then grabbed him by his jug ears and fucked
his face hard, forcing him to take my cock all the way down, forcing him to
gag.  He tossed his head back, spit flying everywhere, face flushed and
eyes tearing up from what had just been happening in his mouth.

"You almost made me fuckin' puke, asshole!" he laughed, eyes half-closed
and blurry from the booze.  "You were really fuckin' my face brutal, bro;
that was awesome!"

"C'mon over here, cocksucker; I want you to lay down on that pile of your
dirty underwear and let me suck you off now," I panted, jacking off while I
watched him get up and walk over to his smelly clothes.  He was jerking his
huge cock too as he walked across the room.  He grabbed the bottle and took
a swig, then threw it at me so I could get some more of the cheap scotch
down me.  I followed him with my eyes, eager for a sight of his backside so
I could look at his broad, muscled back and that prize-winning ass of his.
The cheeks were dusted with that same golden brown hair that covered his
legs, and when he spread them I knew I'd get to see his tight, pink asshole
surrounded by a valley of butt crack hair and a little circlet of darker
hair around his hole.  He flopped down onto the heap of stinking t-shirts
and briefs and socks.  He screwed up his nose and said, "Phewww!  This shit
fuckin reeks bad, bro", as he rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a
particularly nasty sweat-stained t-shirt.  He laughed and tossed it at my
head, then reached in and pulled out a filthy white sock and held it to his
nose.  He recoiled theatrically and said, "You love this shit, don't you,
you sick motherfucker!"  We both laughed wildly as I grinned and nodded.

He stretched out and sighed as he writhed gently back and forth in his own
stink, the smell of his own body odors wafting up from the pile of dirty
clothes.  He knew what this would do to me.  The sight of him lying there,
naked except for his socks and boots...  the slow, writhing intensity of
his sexuality as he bent his knees and spread his hairy legs...  the wet,
fragrant hair of his pits as he crossed his arms behind his shaved head...
and that monstrously, impossibly huge cock, jutting up and out, thick as
one of his beer bottles, precum beading up and dribbling down the shaft,
huge balls hanging so low that they hid his asshole...  all this made me
hornier than I had felt in weeks.  I was on him before he knew what hit
him.

But I wanted something else first.

"Turn over and get on your knees, faggot," I teased, laughing low in my
throat.

Choke just smiled and murmured and turned himself over, getting himself
onto his knees.  His beautiful ass faced me now, white skin with light
brown hair dusting it, crack moist with thicker hair.  I kicked his feet
apart which spread his legs and opened up his ass for me.  Now I could see
the tight, pink hole surrounded by wet hair.  I wanted to touch it with my
tongue so bad.

"Now don't get any ideas, bro," he said, turning his head to look at me,
smiling but also clearly warning me off if I was thinking about fucking
him.

"Shut the fuck up, you pansy-ass bitch," I laughed back at him.

I got down and licked his ass cheeks, first.  They were a little bit salty
from his sweat.  I moved in closer to his crack, inhaling the mossy, earthy
smell of his center.  He started going, "awwwwwww...," when I did that.  I
couldn't wait any longer so I plunged in for the prize.  His asshole was
hot to my tongue and so nice and wet, it was almost like eating pussy.  He
gasped when my tongue made contact, then sighed and backed his ass up into
my face so I could go in deeper.  I was lapping all up and down his ass
crack, tasting salt and the sharp tang of sweat.

When I had my fill of his ass, I slapped his ass hard and told him to turn
back over.  As he did, he grabbed a handful of his dirty underwear and
ground it into my face.  He caught me off-guard and it hit me in my open
eye.  Tears started streaming out of it uncontrollably.  I punched him
pretty hard in the face as I reared back onto my knees.

"You fuckin' moron, you got me in the fuckin' eye.  Watch what you're
doing, you drunk piece of shit!" I barked at him, not laughing at all
anymore.

"Shut your fuckin' hole, faggot, you fuckin' pussy!" he barked back at me,
brows furrowed and suddenly angry.  He threw the handful of dirty underwear
he still clutched in his hand at my face then kicked me square in the
stomach with the flat of his boot.  I went sprawling, the air knocked out
of me for a few seconds.  I gasped for air so I could rage at him but I
couldn't get my breath.  He just stared at me for a second, sitting bolt
upright and ready to brawl.  I caught my breath and felt my blood boil.  I
lunged at Choke and knocked him backwards against the wall.  He banged his
head so hard that he was dazed for a second or two.  He shook his head as
he held it between his hands, then looked up at me, eyes full of rage, and
flew at me.  We crashed into his desk and trash can, sending beer bottles
flying.  We were calling each other all sorts of nasty shit while we
wrestled around and threw wild drunken punches.  We had finally thrashed
our way back to the pile of laundry, where I ended up on my back,
struggling against Choke's weight as he pinned my arms down.  All of a
sudden he hocked up a big wad of spit and spat it in my face.  It hit me on
the cheek and lips.  I was enraged now.  But he wouldn't let up.  He
laughed at me for a second, then bent down and licked his spit off my face,
working his tongue into my gnashing mouth every once in a while.  I
eventually stopped struggling as he turned the moment into something
primitive and manly.  His horniness was higher than ever now, and mine
rapidly shot up to meet his.

He pulled me up and spun me around as he told me to get on my knees.  I
knew what was gonna happen and I was more than ready for it.

"You get fucked hard for that, bro," he muttered as he jacked his cock a
few times to get it ready for some action.

"You fuck like a girl, bitch," I shot back, knowing this would spur him on
to fuck me even harder.

>From having had my first experiences of being fucked with Choke doing the
honors, I immediately knew that I liked getting fucked rough, hard and
deep.  I could frequently cum just from getting fucked without even needing
to touch my dick.

He got a big glob of Vaseline on his finger and stuck it up my asshole a
little too fast.

I winced and he pushed my head down into the pile of stinking underwear.  I
bit onto a t-shirt as he slid his enormous cock slowly into my hole.  It
felt like my guts were gonna explode.  I roared into the laundry pile as he
started fucking me, slow at first then picking up speed and force as I got
used to having him inside me again.  Every time I gasped in more air I
inhaled the stench of his dirty socks and stale sweat, both from his pits
and his crotch.  That stink, his stink, was pushing me close to the edge.
Now I was into it cuz our rhythms were in sync.  I raised myself up on my
arms, still biting onto his dirty tee, then spat it out and turned my head
towards him.  He pulled me up so I was on my knees as well, but now he
could lean forward and we could make out.  His hands were all over me,
reaching around me so he could grab my meat and whack me off.

"Bro, if you had a pussy I'd fuckin' marry you," he purred into my ear as
he bucked his hips hard, slamming his groin into my ass.  He fucked me like
that for a while until we both just sort of toppled over cuz we were so
fucked-up.  He pulled out, got off the bed, and walked over to the bottle
of scotch.

My ass felt like it had just taken one of those dumps where you end up
feeling satisfied and relieved all at the same time.  I got up too, and
told him to let me have a drink cuz I needed one after the pounding he had
just given me.  He turned and glared at me as he handed me the bottle.

"What's your fuckin' problem?" I snarled at him as I took the bottle from
him.

Choke just laughed and flopped himself back down on his bed.

"You wanna fuck me, don't you?" he said quietly as he watched me, one arm
crooked casually behind his head.  He stroked his stinky underarm hair
absently with his other hand as he stared at me.

I just snorted before I took a long swig of scotch.  "I thought you never
took it up the ass?" I replied.

"Mmmmmm, I don't," he answered quickly in a hushed tone.  "But if I was
gonna, I'd probably let you be the one to have my ass."  He seemed to think
about this for a second, cuz he got that goofy look on his mug like
something funny had just occurred to him.  "Maybe for your Christmas
present..."

I busted up when he said that.  "Fuck Christmas, bro!  What about my
birthday?  It's in less than 2 months," I said, "and Christmas don't come
for like another 8 months!"

"Hah!" was all he could come back with.

"Got you, fucker!" I laughed.  He started laughing, too, like he knew I was
right.

"C'mon, bro, give me an early birthday present!" I whined like a little kid
about to throw a tantrum.  I held the bottle up, silently asking him if he
wanted some.  He reached out for it and I tossed it to him on the bed.

Choke took a pull on it, capped it, and placed it next to him on the floor
at the side of his bed.  He was looking at me with a strange expression on
his handsome mug.  He sighed, laughed quietly, then rolled over onto his
stomach and ground his hips into his mattress a few times.  He was making
me wild.

"What's that supposed to mean, asshole? I chuckled as I walked over to lie
down next to him.  "Looks like you're offering up your ass, to me," I
taunted him.

"Maybe I am," he mumbled into his pillow, but clear enough for me to make
it out.

I couldn't believe it.  I was so wasted that I wasn't sure I had heard him
correctly.  So I froze.

"What the fuck do you want, an engraved invitation?  You gonna fuck me or
not?" he slurred out in mock anger.

That was all I needed to hear.  I had him on his side with me spooned up
against him so fast he whistled in surprise.  I hocked a big wad of spit
into my hand, lubed up my throbbing dick and his hole.  I couldn't wait to
get inside him. I started to push into his ass, but he yelped.

"Hey!  Faggot, use the fuckin' lube, will ya, for chrissakes?  And you
gotta get my shithole relaxed before you stick that monster in, jerkwad" he
said as he turned to look at me, grinning hugely.  He was so wasted; I
loved it when he got this fucked-up cuz it made him want to try anything.

"Wow," I said, trying to focus on him and what I was trying to say.
"You're about to get fucked and you call ME a faggot??" I laughed.  He
started laughing, too, cuz we thought that was hysterical.

"You are so fuckin' beautiful," I whispered into his ear as I smeared some
lube I got from his night stand on and into his hole.

"Oh yeah, tell me I'm pretty," he teased, still giggling like a drunken
party-girl.  When I started fingering his asshole he stopped laughing and
talking.  We both got silent.  I was getting even more turned on by
listening to him struggling to relax and beginning to really enjoy what I
was making him feel.  I worked one finger deep inside him and he liked it.
I added a second and then a third finger.  By now he was moaning and
groaning and hissing his breath in and out.  So fucking hot...

"You better do it now, fucker, cuz I'm gonna nut pretty soon," he panted.

I scooted closer into him and watched my slicked-up, dripping cock
disappear slowly into his guts.  When I was all the way in I gave my hips
an extra hard little thrust, just to make him flinch.  It worked.

"Ohhhhhhhhh...," was all he said.  "Fuck me, bro.  Oh, yeah, fuck me, Dan,"
he whispered, as I leaned my face over to his and licked it before he
started sucking on my tongue while I fucked him steadily.

"Oh, fuck, it hurts, you goddam fuckin' asshole, yeah, fuck my ass hard,
bro," he kept saying, a stream of hot, nasty trash talk spewing from his
mouth.

I jerked his arm up over his head and leaned in so I could sniff his pit.
The reek of his sweat nearly singed my eyebrows off.  He knew I loved the
smell of his sweat and I know he got off on it, too.

"You like that, don't you?  Yeah, fag, bury your nose in there, get that
stink stuck in your nostrils.  Now lick it, fucker.  Lick that fuckin'
nasty sweat out so you can taste me later," he said, getting me hotter and
making my cock roar in and out of his asshole.  It's a good thing his dad
was on the other side of the house, cuz the bedsprings were squeaking loud
and his ass was making that hot squishing noise assholes make when they're
getting fucked good and hard.

"Get ready, faggot," I yelled at him, not caring if his father was right
outside the door.  Nothing was gonna stop this.

I thrust deep into him as I roared out "Fuck!" at the top of my lungs, then
started grunting and gasping as the spurts of cum blasted out of my
bursting cock and shot deep into his guts.  He was whimpering, I remember,
with a high and whiny sound.  I thought that was sexy.  I pulled out of him
and told him to get up and lay on the pile of laundry again.  He stumbled
to his feet and I grabbed him by the arm so I could steer him over to the
smelly heap.  He kept jerking the whole time, never missing a beat.

I kicked the pile more into a mat shape, but it was still about 2 layers
deep.  I layed down first and propped myself up against the wall.  Then I
made him lay down between my spread legs so he could lean back onto my
chest.  He kept jerking harder and faster as I chewed on his earlobes and
licked and kissed his whole head and neck.  My hands were pinching his
nipples and rubbing his tight stomach.  He started to gasp and writhe, then
stiffened up and pressed his head back onto my shoulder.  He tossed his
head back and forth hard a couple of times, slamming into my jaw, as he
arched his back up even further and started spraying cum all over himself
and me and the smelly clothes.  That shit went everywhere.

When we woke up it was almost 11 pm.  We had passed out in the same
positions we had been in when Choke shot.  I woke up first and it felt so
amazing to have this butch, masculine motherfucker sleeping like a drunken
baby in my arms.  I kissed his cheek and head, then rubbed my buzzed head
against his.  That felt so good, so close, so much what 2 skinhead brothers
SHOULD do.  I bit his cheek hard and he thrashed awake, full of piss and
vinegar.  Only he literally was full of piss.  He swore something at me,
then got up and walked over to his desk.  I watched his sweet, violated ass
as he bent over to pick up one of the empty beer bottles we had sent flying
earlier.  I couldn't believe it when he held the bottle out in front of his
dick, took aim, and let out a stream of piss that filled the bottle fast.
He was swaying some, still drunk but slowly sobering up.  He belched and
farted simultaneously which made him laugh and spray piss around until he
got his aim back.  When the bottle overflowed with his hot piss, he stopped
pissing while he put the full bottle on his desk, then bent over to pick up
another empty.  He started to piss a bit too soon and a stream of it hit
his bed and splattered onto his already nasty sheets.  He got his aim back
again pretty quick, and half-filled the new bottle.  He dropped that one
back into the trash can when he was through.  He sat down on the edge of
his bed and scratched his nuts, then rubbed his shaved head and his face
hard with both hands.

I just stayed where I was and watched the show.

"When's the last time you changed your bed, bro?" I asked him, laughing.

"Huh?" he replied.

"Your sheets are fuckin' nasty, asshole.  How come there's cum stains on
them?" I asked, really wanting to know.

"Fuck you, pussy, I like to fuck my mattress and just shoot into it.
There's cum stains all over these sheets, bro," he bragged.

"I know it, man.  Your mattress must look like shit!" I laughed.

"I like the way they feel, they get all crisp and smooth.  And I don't mind
the wet spots, they feel cool under me if I roll over onto one," he
explained calmly.  He was giving me another hard-on.

I never called home about stuff like sleeping over wherever I happened to
be when I got tired anymore, so I crashed with Choke that night.  We slept
in his twin bed, and I barely slept at all.  He was a thrasher in bed and I
was awake most of the night.  The stink of his pits and the sheets, couple
with the strong smell of his piss in those beer bottles kept me hard and
horny.  I jacked off a couple more times that night, the first time
actually getting up on my knees so I could nut all over the side and back
of Choke's head.  He was so fuckin' passed out drunk that he didn't even
know it.  I laughed silently to myself for several minutes.  Everytime I
glanced over at him and saw my jizz dripping further down his neck and
cheek I began to laugh again.  I was feeling like shit all the next day.
We both cut school and tripped around the city.

On the way home on the train we ran into a new skinhead kid from school
named Nick, a 14 year-old freshman.  He sat with us on the ride back to our
town and asked all sorts of stupid questions about skinheads to me and
Choke.  He got off a stop before us.

Choke had an evil look in his eyes as we started the walk back to his
house.

"Bro, we should get that little fucker over to my house and get him drunk
and tag his ass some night!" he laughed sadistically.

We both guffawed and I could feel my dick begin to throb.

We started making plans.