Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2018 04:10:09 +0000 From: Petr Velky Subject: Cornell TX: Steve-Preston-8 Cornell TX: Steve-Preston-8 by Petr V NOTICE: This story contains sexually explicit material and is for adults only. This story indulges in male impregnation (mpreg) fantasy, with a futuristic sci-fi spin. It is fiction, the characters are not real. The following is a spin-off series to the Cornell, TX series by Bill Drake, and is published with that author's permission. This chapter takes place between Chapters 10 and 11 of the Cornell, TX series. Petr V. thanks Bill Drake for his permission and encouragement. Please consider a donation to the Nifty Archive to support the work they do. Only because they keep Nifty up and running are these stories available to everyone. Feedback and encouragement welcome at PetrVelky1@hotmail.com Please visit and follow my tumblr at sovelky.tumblr.com to see pictures of the guys who inspire these stories. Cornell, TX - Steve Preston Chronicles Chapter Eight - Working Man Preston bounded up to Jake, who was sitting on top of a picnic table in the school quad, his feet on the bench. It was pretty quiet; most of the school was in the lunch line or the cafeteria. "How did I do, wha'did they say?" he asked eagerly, "Did they like me?" "Calm down, just calm down, dude." "Yeah, but did they call?" "They said you were terrible," Jake deadpanned. "They did not!" Preston almost shouted. "Dude, keep it down," Jake grinned. "They both said you were great. Were they okay?" Preston considered. "Yeah, they were fine." "Sorry you had to go back to back, but the second guy had his change of travel plans." Preston nodded, "It was no problem at all." "I'll bet," Jake snickered. Preston almost reached down and caressed the knob of his cock, remembering the two dads-to-be he had fucked the night before. The first guy was a local, an insurance salesman. He had a nice enough body, toned, not quite as sturdy as Preston was realizing he liked, but the guy was pretty flexible. He did yoga, he told Preston, he did yoga every morning. It had certainly helped with access. Preston had knelt between his spread legs with no obstruction whatsoever; the guy's legs were spread so wide and so far up above his waist that the tight, hairless hole was basically served up on a plate. And it had been tight. Preston had worked on loosening it up, first with his tongue, then with his fingers and some lube, and finally rubbing the tip of his cock against it. He'd been fascinated by the reaction of the guy's clenched hole to his cock. When he brought his cock close to the tight, tiny pucker, he could actually feel the guy's asshole trying to open, the lips and gently pulsing hole trying to suck on his cock. But it was still super tight. After he had got it nice and lubed, he pushed in slowly, thankful for the practice with David, and the guy had gradually let him in. But for the first five minutes it felt like somebody with a big hand had grabbed his cock and was just squeezing it in their fist. Preston had been patient, totally interested in this new phenomenon, and determined to earn his payment. While he held his cock in place he had stroked the guy's thighs and calves, admiring their lean muscularity. He stroked the guy's kneecaps and behind the knees feeling the hollow there. He'd murmured things like, "You got this, you can do this, that's it, attaboy, just open up a little more and let me in." All the while leaning forward and keeping the pressure up. He noticed the guy's cock was half erect, turned on by what was happening but also held back by the penetration. He took hold of the guy's cock and tugged on it, rubbing the back of the head with his thumb. He licked his thumb and resumed just paying attention to that one spot, where the head split on the underside, while his other hand gently tugged on the guy's balls. He felt the guy's cock harden in his hand and thought he detected more give around his own rod. Moving his hand in unison with his cock he began to thrust and jerk the guy at exactly the same time, moving the exact same length of movement inside, and he was rewarded with a moan that had to indicate pleasure. Inside, he sighed a huge sigh of relief. A minute more and he was in completely. The guy still looked a little pained, but the sounds he was in making indicated otherwise. Balls deep, Preston felt that extra warmth all around his knob. He began the thrusting that was necessary to accomplish the goal. "You wanna have a baby?" "Yes." "You want to get knocked up?" "Yes!" "You want me to put a baby in you?" "Oh, God, Yes..." "Big breeder load ready to seed your guts." "Give it to me." "What?" "Give it to me!!" he yelled. Preston came. Brad Turk had been another proposition altogether. A brash businessman, he had come to Cornell to undergo the change, and had fully expected to be a breeder. It had never crossed his mind that he might be a bearer. An ex-college football player with a big frame, thick neck and legs like tree trunks, gone only slightly to seed, he'd never let anything get near his ass until this week. The whole idea of being the person who got fucked really threw him for a loop, but he was doing his best to adjust as fast as possible. Especially since he needed to get back to work; in fact, he he'd got a call that he needed to be back immediately, hence the change in schedule. When Preston showed up at his hotel room door his look registered his surprise as he took in the much smaller teenager. "Hi, said Preston, eyeing the large man standing there in hastily donned t-shirt and loose boxers. "Mr. Turk? Jake sent me. I'm your 7 o'clock." "You are?" "Absolutely. Can I come in?" Brad Turk had been blocking the doorway. He stepped back, allowing Preston to enter the room. The sheets were messed up on the bed, and there were a couple of towels here and there. There was also a large bottle of lube and a dildo on the coffee table. The dildo looked very recently used. Glistening and sticky with pooling slick. Preston hid his hint of a smile. "So," Preston said, "I'm supposed to ask you if you've got, um, the, uh," he paused. "How do I know this isn't some kind of scam?" "Jake sent me. He did tell you, `Preston is coming?'" Brad nodded. "Yeah, but, you know, you're a kid." Preston stepped back. He held up a finger. He said, "Gimme me a sec." He shut his eyes and thought about Brady and the Stars and Stripes. Bingo. He undid his board shorts, and then pushed down the old pair of David's UA's that he was wearing. His thick eight-plus inches curved upwards, fat and hard, the big head crowning it, and Brad Turk watched the piss slit pulse and push out a huge glob of clear precum. The ex-jock nodded with something that approached respect. "Ever got anyone pregnant before, kid?" Preston thought of Brady. His cock gave a little jump. More precum blurped out, and a long sticky strand descended. "Yes, sir. I'm fully qualified for the job, sir." Brad Turk put his lips together and nodded. "I guess you are, son." The tension between them now dissipated, Preston buttoned the wad of bills into the back pocket of his board shorts. The teen's rigid, semi-flexing posture relaxed, and Brad Turk moved toward the desk where there was a bottle of Woodford Reserve, a bucket of ice, and two tumblers. "I'm gonna have a - you, don't, uh-?" Preston shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine. You go ahead." Brad Turk poured a generous two fingers. Preston toed off his shoes, and then undid the laces. "You been practicin'?" "Huh?" Preston gestured towards the coffee table. Brad Turk blushed. "Uh, yeah. Had to do something. It hit me really hard this morning. I, uh, never did anything like this Ð I mean, I cornholed a buddy in college a couple'a times, but I never thought I'd be switchin' teams." Preston didn't hesitate. "I don't think you are. You just want to be a parent. This is what you gotta do." "Uh huh," agreed the big man, finishing the bourbon. "Except the thoughts I get when you unbutton your shorts don't have much to do with a baby." Preston grinned. "Two birds, one stone." Brad Turk stared at him. "So, now what?" "Take off your shirt." There was a big expanse of chest and gut, and the same thick arms. Curly hair, thicker below the belly button. Preston pulled off his own shirt. "You work out, kid?" "Yeah. Every day now." "Keep it up." "Now your shorts." The big man skinned his boxers down, struggling slightly to step out of them, exposing a big meaty rump at the top of sturdy ham-like thighs. "Mmmmmmm," said Preston, approvingly. "Okay, hands and knees, on the bed." The eager immediate compliance was both gratifying and reassuring. Preston stepped up next to the bed, having quietly shed his own clothes. "I'm just going to do a couple of things to make sure you're ready, and then we'll get you that baby, okay?" "Okay!" gasped Brad Turk, as Preston slid his finger into the open center of the big man's abused pucker. (It was a big dildo on the coffee table.) Preston rooted around a little and then found the gulping man's swollen butt nut. He blessed Tim for the extremely comprehensive tutoring he'd received a few days ago, and went to work. "Ohhh, Ooooh, OHHHHH!!!" The big man's ass was dusted with hair on the sides, and furred within the cleft. Preston brushed against it as he added a couple more fingers, while using his other hand to rub the thick taint, and tug the hairy balls. Brad Turk undulated his ass, arching his back, flattening it, arching it, and all the while pushing back. "I think you're ready," said the grinning teen. Preston tugged Brad Turk into a new position, with his knees at the edge of the bed, and stood behind him. The actual entry was a non-event, there being hardly any resistance. In fact, Brad Turk's ass gobbled up his cock. Preston took his time on the initial entry, scoping out the extremely slick channel. "Oh, YEAH!" muttered Brad Turk, his big ass pushing back. Preston held him off, a hand on each big, round glute, and then drove forward with clinical precision, searching with his throbbing knob. He found it. He felt the clamping heat on his pulsing cockhead, and at the same time he felt the tightening grip of the big ex-ballplayer's ass, trying to hold him there. "You're ready," he said. "What's that?" "You're ready to be seeded. I can feel it." "Then seed me, kid. Fuck me!" Preston adjusted, and in as thoroughly professional manner as he could, went to work. He had the perfect height, the right arrangement of ass and cock, and the carpet gave him enough traction. Brad Turk arching his ass and grunting with increased enthusiasm was only a bonus. Preston grinned behind the man, enjoying the grunts and gasps almost as much as the slick grip on his cock and the magic warmth at the end of Brad Turk's loosening, excited fuck- tunnel. It was as if the burly man's ass knew, by itself, what to do to get the breeder to blow his load, and make it a big load. He felt his orgasm building, his big nuts tightening, and the additional swell of his cock. As did Brad Turk. "Oh, oh! OHH!" "Ready?" "Give it to me, kid! Give it to me! Oh my GOD, give it to me!" Brad Turk lay on the bed, face up, his arms spread out, his big chest heaving, his cock dripping with post-cum. (He had shot his load into the sheets about the same time as Preston seeded him.) Preston was having a quick wipe with a washcloth. "That should do the trick, sir." "That's some cock you got there, kid." He paused, looking at admiringly. Although hanging, it hadn't decreased much in size. "Thanks." "Yep, some cock." Brad Turk continued to stare. "Want to earn a bonus?" "Sir?" "Maybe we should do it again," The big man winked, flipping on his back and pulling his knees up, showing off his slightly battered, stickily frosted, pulsing pink dad-puck in the center of the hairy cleft, "Just to be sure." * * * "So what's next?" Preston asked Jake. "Nothing tonight, because it was supposed to be Brad Turk. But tomorrow, another out-of-town guy." "And he's a bearer?" "Yep, been here for two weeks. He saw a Doctor Aster this morning." "Okay, great." "Any trouble with the money?" "No, not at all." Preston fumbled in his pocket. "In fact, I got this for you." He proudly pulled out five twenties. They were slightly crumpled; he tried to smooth them out, and then handed them to Jake, beaming. Jake took them seriously. "Thank you. I knew you were good for it." He put the money away. "So, what are you going to do with it all? You don't want to just blow it." Preston looked shocked. "Oh, no," he said, "I'm saving for a truck." "Good." "But if I make some extra money, I'm going to spend it on real stuff, I think. I need a different bed. A bigger one. Maybe a queen." "You don't have to go out and buy a bed, check out Facebook. There is a group for Cornell bearers and so on. Just post on there that you're looking for something. Let slip that you're a breeder." He winked. "It'll show up." "Facebook? You got to be kidding. I don't think my grandma uses that anymore." "You'd be surprised. It's still really good for networking. Just don't get sucked into all that posting crap about yourself. If you got to do any of that, use I-AM." Preston nodded to show he understood. "Don't post about clients. And always set it to self-destruct." Preston nodded, "No problem." "I'll send you a link to the Facebook group. And I'll text you the deets for tomorrow. Congratulations. You're a working man." * * * All day Preston had been keeping an eye out for Patrick, the tall athletic redhead who had been joining them for lunch. He'd missed him today. It wasn't until the end of fifth period when he made a quick loop past some of the senior classrooms that he saw him in the hall. Patrick was talking to Coach Grant, who had him cornered with his back against some lockers. Actually it was kind of weird. The posture of the two immediately seemed odd to Preston. Had Patrick done something wrong, did he need to work harder at whatever it was he played? Both men noticed him hovering at the same time and turned toward him. "What?" barked Grant, "Need something?" "Uhh, No," stuttered Preston, "I just wanted to talk to Pat. It's fine, no problem, whenever, catch you later, dude." As both men were turned in Preston's direction, Patrick ducked under Grant's arm, saying, "Now is fine, now is great, what's up, Pres?" "So I'll see you after sixth period," Grant called, "in my office." Patrick kind of nodded, said, "Uh huh," and kept walking. Preston spun around and followed, catching up with him. The bell for sixth period rang, and the hallway emptied. "What's his deal?" "Nothing, he's just being an asshole." "Uh, okay." Preston took a few steps at a half trot to keep up with the tall senior. "Really, are you okay?" Patrick turned in surprise at the maturity of the younger teen's tone. "No, I'm pissed." Preston nodded and they walked in silence, then stopped in front of a fading pep rally sign. "What did you want?" Patrick began. At the exact same time Preston said, "Is he trying to blackmail you or something?" Patrick stuck his tongue in his cheek and rolled his eyes. The combination made him look much younger. He eyed Preston with the skepticism the younger teen was beginning to get used to whenever he spoke to someone older than him about anything that was serious. "Dude, don't tell me. Only if you want to. I can keep my mouth shut." Patrick glanced up and down the hallway, and then spoke quietly. "He thinks that I'm in heat. I'm not. I mean I'm going to be soon. But I'm not right now. Maybe in a couple days. I don't know how he knows. I think the asshole keeps a calendar or something." "What does he want you to do?" Now Patrick looked at Preston as if Preston was incredibly stupid. "Oh," said Preston. "You don't like him?" Patrick shook his head. "Right now it's easy to say `no' but if he got me at the right time, who knows." "Does he do this a lot?" Patrick nodded. "He tries to get you in his office, and -" "What happens?" "He knows your body can't say no." He blushed furiously, bright red suffusing his cheeks and neck, far brighter than his hair. "He knows you need it, and he puffs up his chest, or changes shirts in front of you, you know, from his dress shirt to his t-shirt, and he shows off his big pecs, covered in curly hair, and he makes sure you see his cock bulge. He always puts a hand down his pants and makes a big deal of needing to rearrange things, and he'll step a little closer..." "He's done this more than once?" "Not to me, but I talked to some other guys. Some of them liked it. I," he blushed more, "liked part of it. But he's pretty mean, and it's not like he cares about you at all. It's all about him and his ego. Plus, he's a teacher. You're not gonna have a relationship with your teacher. Why would you want to have a baby with him?" "You didn't get pregnant?" "I don't know. I did Plan B." Preston nodded intelligently. He had no idea what Plan B was; he would have to ask Tim or Brady later. "Do you want to have a baby?" "Sure. The season's almost over. I could be done half way through my first year of college, and I'll have done my part." "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, but maybe now is not a good time." Patrick looked at him and grinned with a degree of enthusiasm that surprised Preston, "What, dude! Are you offering?" Preston laughed, "Uh, no, not quite. But I totally would. But I might be able to find you something better." "Don't sell yourself short, little guy." "No worries, Mister Six-five." "Six-six, but who's counting." "So, would you be up for that, meeting my friend? Older than me, bigger, definitely handsome..." Patrick chewed on his lip. Preston noticed that his eyes were green, flecked with gold. Patrick nodded, "Sure, at the right time. Gotta be better than Grant." * * * A couple things happened over the next few days. David underwent a personality change and stopped working out everyday with Preston and Brady. Preston still saw him at lunch; and he looked, well, glowing. He had the permanent air of satisfaction that Preston associated with after- Thanksgiving dinner. He moved a little slower, looked like he was dreaming, looked like all his worries and tension had disappeared. He'd always been decent, but for the first time since Preston had met him, he seemed mellow. He talked it over with Brady, who laughed. "You get boned five or six hours a night, you'd look like that, too." "Five or six HOURS!" "Yep, he texted me. Apparently Mr. Samurai has magic staying powers." Preston pushed the bar up onto the rack and sat up. "You want me to make it last longer?" Brady laughed. "Twice as long or two times, I don't care." He smiled his big smile at Preston, and rubbed him on the shoulder. "Everything you do makes me feel great." Preston looked thoughtful, but answered, "You too, dude." Later, Preston got a text from Ryan, asking to meet for coffee. While going back and forth figuring out logistics, Ryan texted, "Stop worrying about your bike. I'll pick you up." Preston was almost speechless as he got into Ryan's sleek low black car that moved noiselessly. "Cool car!" It was so low Preston half expected his butt to get road rash as they sped away from the gym parking lot. "What kind of car is this?" "Gen Seven Tesla. It does everything but fly. It might do that if I really let it loose." At the coffee shop Ryan bought. He had a macchiato again, and ordered Preston a cafŽ au lait, served in a bowl. "Dude, I always get a soda." "You have to learn to drink coffee." "I don't like coffee." "I know. This is half coffee. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to get to espresso." "Why drink something you don't like?" "You learn to like it." "Why?" "Why, what?" "Why learn to like something you don't like?" Ryan looked at him over the top of his sunglasses. Again Preston noticed how attractive he was, in a very grown-up rich-guy-in-a-kung-fu-movie way. "Did you like men before you started sleeping with them?" "Um, no." "And now?" "Oh." "Hold the bowl in both hands." "It's not bad. Needs sugar." Ryan sighed, then laughed. And pushed the sugar towards Preston. "So what's up?" "I thought we should have coffee." "Dude, what do you want?" Ryan laughed, "You are so very direct." "Sure. I don't want to waste your time." "Am I wasting yours?" "No. But I don't know why we're here. So whadda ya want to talk about?" "I only wanted to make you drink coffee." "Ha! Right." The coffee shop was playing some oldies station; Ed Sheeran's Castle on the Hill came on. Ryan stirred his macchiato, destroying the three distinct layers. "I wanted to thank you." "Me? What for?" Ryan paused and looked at Preston levelly. "For coming after me and making me meet David. You doing that has made us both very happy." "You don't have to thank me. That was nothing, dude." Ryan smiled. "It was an act of generosity." "I'm happy you're happy, I'm really happy he's happy." Preston scratched his head. "And there's something else." "Yeah?" "You have milk foam. On your lip. Left side. The other left. That's it." "What?" "You liked it." "It's okay." "You finished it." "What else?" Ryan looked serious. "You don't have to find me someone. It's all right." "Oh, dude, no worries. I already did." "But -" "Seriously, you'll like him. You still want a baby, don't `cha?" "My father said, `no ang moh girl for you.' Now I'm on the verge of having two guys." "What's hangmo?" "Singapore slang. ANG MOH. Anglo. White." "Oh, yeah, well, dude, you're in Texas. We got everything, white, black, and Hispanic." "Actually, it means 'red hair,' or `red head.'" Preston started laughing. "What?" "You'll see." On the ride back Preston admired the car again, but then started talking while looking out the window. "There is something I want to ask you." "Yes?" "David doesn't kiss and tell, but I got the idea that you last a long time, I mean you don't - uh - get there right away. Any, um, hints about how I, um..." Preston, rare for him, came close to blushing in the face of Ryan's seriousness. Ryan glanced over at him. "Ancient secret." "What? No way!" "Years of training. Long spiritual quest." "Noooo..." Ryan laughed. "I try to think only of him, not about me. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't." "Oh." * * * Patrick's eyes snapped open at 4:45 a.m. He sensed his temperature had changed and his cock was completely rigid without any sexual stimuli. His tight jock puck pulsed with need. He was lying on his back with his long limbs spread out. His abs contracted, his pelvis tilted, and then he reversed, arching his back and pressing his tight athlete's ass into the sheets. He reached down and wrapped one hand around his rosy cock, his fist around the shaft, the arrow- shaped head just beyond it, and his other hand pressed against his taint. He'd shaved the night before, knowing this was coming soon. He was silky smooth everywhere; his balls felt great. His fingers and hand brushed and rubbed his taint. He knew he would reach his pucker soon, but wanted to delay it. To deny this was happening again. Then he remembered, that little breeder freshman, Preston, had said he would help him out. And that he knew somebody. 5 a.m. was too early to call, wasn't it? In the dim morning light a smile played across his face, and Patrick sighed with relief. He blinked his eyes shut. Then his pucker gave a particularly ferocious twitch. "All right, all right," he thought. "Enough with the `Feed me feed me.'" He licked two fingers, getting them nice and wet, and then reached down, rubbing the tight rim and dipping in. His body responded with a wave of pleasure that emanated from his asshole to his balls, his cock, down the inside of his thighs, and then gradually spread throughout his entire body. Although he was fighting the need it felt pretty damn good. He reached for the lube hidden in his nightstand. * * * Preston overslept. Tim had left without waking him. Now his dad was knocking on his door and shouting, "Steve! Third time! Up now! You'll be late for school." Preston rolled over and looked for his phone. Shit, he was going to be late. He also had a bunch of text messages. No time to read them now. Oh hell, he was already late. "Okay, okay, I'm up," he yelled. He pulled the pillow back over his face. Then he remembered, today he was getting a new bed. Jake had been absolutely right about Facebook. As soon as Preston had posted on the Cornell Bearer group page that he was looking for a bed in case anyone had one they were getting rid of or didn't need, with a little joke about not being a bearer, he got several offers within an hour. He narrowed it down to a guy who said he was getting rid of a brand new queen set because he was converting his guest room into an office. The guy even offered to deliver it. Preston had checked the guy's pictures and had seen an average, stocky guy in his forties with a barrel chest and mustache. He looked okay. Preston was pretty sure something would be expected in exchange for the bed and he wanted to make sure of what he was getting into. Now he checked to see if there was any change of plan. Nope. Good. He flipped through the other messages. Tim: "sorry babe, have to cover someone else's route as well as my own today. You were awesome, but you know that, wink, wink." Brady: "thinking about you, gym?" There was a selfie of him laying in bed, all abs, pecs, and big smile. Patrick, a cryptic: "its happening im ready." A message from an unknown number: "Kelly went running if you're up?" Preston's mind flashed back to the evening before. He had shown up at the Holiday Inn Express and knocked confidently on the door of room 214. What he hadn't been expecting was that a pretty, athletic girl with a bright smile would answer the door. "Oh, I must have the wrong room," he muttered. "No, wait," she said, a slight questioning look crossing her face, "Are you Preston?" Confused, he nodded. She said, "It's okay, come in." Behind her a somewhat buff frat-boy in cargo shorts and a USC baseball cap appeared. He stuck out his hand, heartily welcoming Preston. "Hey man, good to meet you, thanks for coming." He smiled, "I'm Jeff, and this is my wife, Kelly." "Okay," said Preston. "So you're the guy, huh? Who's gonna do the deed?" "You want a water, or a juice," Kelly asked. "Water would be great." "You look -" "Younger than you expected, right?" "Jake did mention it, but yeah." "It's okay, everybody says that. At first. But I've been doing this for a while." Jeff and Kelly looked at each other with some sort of unspoken agreement. Jeff looked at Preston, raised his eyebrows, and said, "This is a first for us. How do we get underway?" Preston looked pointedly at Kelly. "Oh," said Jeff. "She wants to be here." "No," said Preston. "Preston," Jeff began, "Can I call you Pres? This is really important to -" Kelly interrupted him. "We're so excited about having a baby." She turned to Preston, her eyes determined. "I've always done everything I set my mind to. I used to do cheer, early on, but then I realized it was stupid to only cheer for other people. So I decided to play volleyball and I trained harder than everyone else and I led our school to the state championships. Twice. Now I want to be a mom. I have tried everything there is to try to have a baby. But I can't. Except I can, this way. Which is why Jeff is doing this. So we can have a baby. And I want to be there the whole time, the whole journey. From the very beginning." "You have to find someone else -" "We'll pay you double." "You haven't paid me at all." "Oh," she said, "sorry." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out an envelope and held it in front of Preston. "Five hundred dollars," she said. "We'll double it." She raised her eyebrows. "Do you need money or do you just do this for fun?" "No, I do it - I need the money." She smiled, but she looked defiant and hard. "I need to be here. I need to be at the beginning." She went back in her bag and pulled out her billfold and counted out four hundreds and five twenties. She fanned them out, with the envelope. "One thousand dollars," she said. "Think what you could do with that." Preston's mind chose that moment to show him the memory of the pickup truck with the "For Sale" sign. With what he had made already plus this he would have enough. Kelly saw him hesitate. "I can even help," she said. "I can help get you hard. I give a great blowjobs." "Not that you'd know, these days." She glared at Jeff. "Honey, honey, we've been working so hard. Don't spoil it now." "It's not usually a problem," said Preston. "Do we have a deal?" she asked, holding up the money, keeping it just out of Preston's reach. Preston shut his eyes. No more bike. Truck. Truck. TRUCK. "Okay," said Preston, stretching out his hand, "I'll do it." "So what do we do?" asked Jeff. Preston looked at him. "It usually works better with clothes off," he deadpanned. "Take your shirt off?" Jeff raised his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He was definitely a bro, at the very beginning of going to seed. He'd really need to step up his game soon in order to stay in shape. There was a softness to his gut totally lacking in David and Brady. There was also a lot of golden curly hair here and there; it was clear he wasn't a shaver. His pecs were still pretty good though; he'd evidently spent a lot of time on the inclined bench press. Preston nodded approvingly to put the guy at his ease. Preston pulled his own shirt off and was conscious of the appraising gaze of both of them. Their eyes made him feel his own ribs sticking out. "You could use a few more cheeseburgers kid." "I know someone who could use a few less," retorted Kelly. Preston and Jeff ignored her. Jeff's eyes were on Preston as he put his own hands on the button fastening his cargo shorts. He and Preston nodded at each other and both undid their shorts at the same time. Preston had a good solid semi going, and Jeff was wearing baggy boxer briefs. He turned partially sideways and Preston could see he did have a pretty nice ass. Preston nodded again and Jeff pulled down his boxers revealing that he had a chubby four or five inches, more golden hair, in front and behind, with a dusting at the top of his chunky ass cheeks. Preston stepped towards him, traced a circle around the pink nipple with a spit-wet finger, and boned right up. Jeff's eyes widened, and his mouth made a silent "Oh, wow!" Kelly hovered. Preston pushed Jeff onto the bed, and Jeff spread his husky thighs. "Pillow," said Preston. Jeff and Kelly both reached for one. Preston took the one from Kelly, and lifted Jeff's legs. "Towel?" Kelly fetched one, and Preston put it over the pillow, and then tugged Jeff toward the edge of the bed. Jeff helped, hotching himself forward, so his ass was on the towel-covered pillow, up in the air. Preston nodded and said, "Put your pillow under your head." Then Preston grinned. He now had Jeff in a modified sling position. Preston took hold of Jeff's short blunt cock, and jacked it while he leaned in for a quick swoop of Jeff's taint, and then the surprisingly wet hole. He paused momentarily to remove a hair from his tongue, glancing at it before he flicked it from his finger. Preston had dropped his shorts, keeping them on one ankle because they had half his truck money buttoned in the back pocket and he wasn't about to let go of that. The head of his cock throbbed, the upward curve made the bulbous head wave about. Jeff looked at it with a mixture of awe and hunger, then said plaintively, "Go easy on me, I've never done this before." Preston positioned the fat pulsing head of his cock, now liberally dripping precum, at Jeff's eager fluttering entrance. "Whoa, virgin territory, dude!" said Jeff, doing his best to look pained. "Yeah, right," thought Preston, sinking in like butter. For a moment he forgot about Kelly, just enjoying the hot wetness of Jeff's welcoming hole. This was the moment when Preston loved his own cock, when it was sinking into a not- too-tight ass and yet it was big enough to make both of them extraordinarily happy. There was a give-and-take between his fat hard cock and Jeff's slick chute, one forcing it wider, the other squeezing the rod, and the hot slickness making everything work. Then Kelly was there. "Are you okay, honey?" Again Jeff did his best to look distressed, but the most he could manage was to roll his eyes back and then shut them. "Make us a baby," she muttered, "make us a baby." She was close now, and she held Jeff's hand, and stroked his leg, and touched his shoulder. Preston could tell she wanted to be part of this, to be involved, but she was putting him off. He knew he could fuck Jeff alone, no problem, but this was crazy. He sped up, intending to get this done as quickly as possible. Kelly immediately sensed the change in rhythm. She nodded approvingly. "Yes," she murmured, "yeah, fuck him." She moved behind Preston, he was going faster now, and she put her hands on his shoulders and started to push his back on each downstroke. "Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him!" Preston let himself fall forward on top of Jeff, in an effort to get Kelly off his back. Jeff instinctively spread his legs more and then wrapped them around Preston, who was now humping madly, trying to come quicker instead of delaying it. "Oh my GOD!" Jeff kept saying, "Oh my fucking god, sweet Jesus, fuck me!" while Kelly continued to tell Preston to fuck him. Preston shut his eyes and thought of Brady, no good, David nothing, Tim, nada. He had a strange tornado of images and couldn't fix on any long enough to help him. Kelly was still pounding on his back. He was one split-second away from pulling out of Jeff and telling her to calm the fuck down when out of all the swirling data in his spank-bank emerged one solid image. Principal Connors. Preston clamped his eyes shut and tried to do the same with his ears. There, in his mind was the strapping man beneath him, with his big firm glutes in his tighty-whities with the artfully placed rip, allowing Preston to fuck him through them. He felt the slick grip, and the eagerness, and the pleasure he was giving, and with his eyes still shut he delivered the thousand-dollar payload. * * * Now safe, yes, safe, in his own bed, away from the craziness the night before, Preston shook his head. It had been a relief to come home and get away from the bizarre situation. When Tim had showed up, he hadn't even wanted to do anything. Well, not for at least twenty minutes. He'd told Tim about it, in bits and pieces, enough so the older man got the picture. "And there was something else weird." "What else could there be?" "He was blond, but I got this hair in my mouth from his ass. It was this thick, black, really curly hair." Tim started to laugh. "This was the Holiday Inn Express?" "Yeah." Tim started to laugh so much they had to put a pillow over his head. "What is it?" Tim was still chuckling. "He might have some real `splainin' to do nine months from now." He laughed, "I bet ten bucks that hair came from Howard Johnson." "No, they were at Holiday Inn. Express." Tim reached for his phone. "One of my buddies who I see now and then is the night manager at Holiday Inn. Howard." He showed Tim a picture. There was a big muscular black man naked, with his hands on his hips. With an extremely impressive endowment. "And his Johnson." * * * Still in bed, Preston flipped back through his messages to the selfie of Brady. As usual, he looked all pink and white. Preston closed his eyes for a second and could almost smell Brady's clean scent. Without thinking about what he was doing, he wrapped one hand around his now-hard cock, and with his other hand managed to pull up the picture he had taken of Brady's plush ass in the tiny stars-and-stripes briefs. He found himself wishing that he lived with Brady and woke up with him every morning. He'd never spent the night with Brady. Somewhere in his mind was the idea that he could fuck Brady around the clock if they lived together in the same apartment. And have pizza every day. Maybe that's what love was, finding someone who you wanted to fuck 24/7. By now he was palming the big head which was slick with his thick clear gel pre-come. He looked at the picture of Brady's butt and imagined being in it so clearly he felt his cock throb with an impending load. He got closer and closer. He'd never come just rubbing the knob, his anticipation grew, this was going to be good, almost there... The door of his room flew open. "Steven, get out of bed right nahhhh-" He met his father's shocked eyes just as his cock exploded, raining a fountain of steaming cum down on himself. Preston lost his phone, tried to grab a sheet, his cock jerked, he felt more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life. "Holy shit, kid!" Preston turned away. His father sounded angry. "Get up and get in the shower NOW." "You could knock!" "I did. I've been telling you to get up for half an hour!" "Okay, okay, I was up." "Ha ha ha. Get!" Preston abandoned the sheet and got out of bed. His cock was still kind of hard, not erect but not shrinking. It was red and shiny and glistening with juice. He stood defiantly for a fraction of a second, trying to outstare his father. With total disbelief he thought he saw the corner of his father's mouth twitch. Then it was gone. "March!" Preston's head was spinning as he showered. Had that been a smile? Did his dad think it was funny? Was his dad angry with him? Did he think he was disgusting? If he thought beating off was bad, what would he think about fucking men? Was his father a breeder? Or a bearer? Did his father have sex? He hadn't noticed his father's crotch in the bedroom. Were they going to talk about this? How would the conversation start? Toweling himself dry he resolved to say something to his dad, but his father was gone when got out of the shower. * * * "You want me to ditch?" Preston rolled his eyes. "It'll be okay, I promise." "I'll get in trouble." "No you won't," Preston shook his head assertively then lowered his voice. "I'll get Connors to fix it." "How are you going to do that?" Preston grinned. "You look good," he said, nodding approvingly at Patrick outfit of barely faded Levis and letterman's jacket over a hefty white T-shirt. "He's really nice. You're going to like him, I promise. If there's anything remotely weird, just get up and leave, and call me. If you don't like him, I'll make it up to you. But I think you're going to be really happy." "He's not old, is he?" Preston laughed, "No, he's not. I don't know how old he is but not old. Other guys think he's hot." He paused, then said, "Look I know what it's like to walk up to a door and knock, and you're there for - to get together. It's kind of weird and you feel all nervous. But as soon as the person answers the door and you see them it goes away cuz then you know what they're like." * * * Patrick stood in the living room of Ryan's second floor apartment, and looked out of the huge sliding glass door to the balcony. Through the railings he could see the sparkling pool below. His stomach jumped. He turned and looked around the apartment. The ceiling was high, and almost everything was white. There was a red book on the coffee table, and a newspaper printed in some foreign language, must be Chinese? Against the wall were some weights, and there was one narrow piece of red and black fabric over the back of the white leather sofa. Ryan carried in two red cups of coffee on a black tray, and set them on the coffee table, then sat back on the sofa. He was wearing a black t-shirt and UA's that showed off his muscled legs, chest, and bulge. His golden arms looked as if he'd spent the last five minutes doing pushups rather than making coffee. "Take off your jacket?" "Sure," said Patrick. He felt Ryan's gaze as he shed the first piece of his armor, and sat in the low white easy chair. Patrick stared at Ryan, noticing how well he looked, all black and gold, against the white sofa. He noticed the hairless forearms, the thickness of the muscle just below the elbow, and then, going up the full roundness of the shoulder and the definition between the bicep and the triceps. Suddenly Patrick remembered his old GI Joe he still had sitting on the top shelf of his bookcase in his bedroom. "You're from China?" he asked. "Singapore. You didn't know?" "No, Preston said you weren't American. He mostly said you were a really good guy." "You don't make me feel like being good." Patrick laughed nervously and started to blush. Ryan continued, "He said I would like you." Patrick glanced up at him. "And?" "So far he is, how do you say, batting a thousand." "He's smart, for a freshman. Good coffee, uh, strong." "I can dilute it with hot water." "No it's fine, I like strong." Patrick blushed again. "He seems a lot older, sometimes." "I don't want to talk about Preston anymore, I want to talk about you." Patrick nodded. "Okay, what do you want to know?" They talked while Patrick sipped his coffee. He answered Ryan's questions about school and college and growing up in Cornell. Then Ryan hesitated. He looked relaxed but he spoke formally; Patrick thought, he's nervous too. "Are you comfortable?" Patrick nodded. "Do you feel safe?" Patrick shrugged and nodded, uncertain where this was going. Ryan paused for emphasis, then leaned forward. "I want to have a son. If we do what I think we both want to, that may occur. If it does, I would like to raise the child." He hesitated again, but looked Patrick directly in the eyes, locking his gaze. "Is that something you would be content with?" Patrick licked his lips. "What if it's a girl?" Ryan looked surprised, but spoke immediately, "Then too, as well." Patrick thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes," he said, "I think so. As long as I didn't find out anything between now and then that made me think you wouldn't be a good parent." Ryan smiled and inclined his head in agreement. "I have never been a parent, but I have learned from being a child there are some things that I would do, and there are some things I would definitely not to do." His wry smile made Patrick chuckle. "I know what you mean. My parents are pretty good but sometimes they're just totally wrong and don't get it." There was another moment of silence and then Patrick said, "I don't want to think about my parents right now." Ryan laughed silently, then sat back and looked at Patrick, with a mixture of appreciation and calm anticipation. He smiled. "I'm going to take off my shirt, okay?" Patrick gave a tiny nod. He felt his breath tightening. Ryan put his cup down and slowly pulled his shirt over his head. Patrick felt like he'd been gut-punched by the stimulus of Ryan's chest and abs. The skin was so golden brown, lightly tanned, smooth, and the curves and planes of his high, wide pecs made Patrick want to jump across the room to touch them. The darker golden brown nipples that crowned them stood out like nailheads. Desire swept over him like a flash flood. Ryan put an arm up behind his head; his bicep popped. Patrick felt his balls tingle, tighten, and twitch. Then his tight jockhole followed suit. Ryan and Patrick stared at each other. Patrick felt it was his turn in whatever game they were playing, so he kicked off one shoe, then the other, and then he unbuttoned his jeans and barely rising out of the chair slipped them off. He was now in his close-fitting white T-shirt, white UA's, and old-school white athletic socks with red horizontal stripes. He was now so horny that he had passed through the stage of agitation and seemed almost drowsy. He looked at Ryan and barely raised his right eyebrow. Ryan stood, now down to his black UA's, with the bulge in front now a fully defined shaft fighting to get out. Somehow the legs of his UA's had bunched up so they seemed shorter, more clearly revealing his powerful quads. He stepped toward Patrick, who managed to close his mouth, and pulled him up out of the chair so they stood face to face, and Ryan took the bottom hem of Patrick's t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. Where Ryan was golden, Patrick was creamy white and freckled, although red-gold hair sprouted beneath his arms. Ryan's fingertip traced down Patrick's bicep into the hollow beneath. He leaned in and pressed his nose against the juncture of Patrick's shoulder and armpit, and inhaled deeply. Meanwhile, Patrick's hands had clasped the long strong rod in the black UA's, and were gently rubbing it. "Huh," acknowledged Ryan. He pulled down Patrick's underwear and pushed him back into the chair, then pulled them off completely leaving Patrick in only his socks. He stepped back and Patrick instinctively raised his legs exposing the backs of his creamy muscled thighs, his taint, and that tiny, perfect, inviting, virginal pink rosebud. Using the power gained from years of crunches, Patrick held his legs up until he could grab his ankles with his hands. It seemed an undignified, unseductive position, but Ryan's reaction was otherwise. He knelt and with surgical precision made his tongue pointed and moved directly to the center of the target. Keeping his tongue pointed he flicked the center, pushed in slightly, flicked again, let spit roll down his tongue, worked it in, and then used the tip of his tongue to make the tiniest of circles around the inside of Patrick's entrance. Patrick made incoherent but clearly encouraging noises. In a few minutes, Patrick was one lick away from levitating. "Show me your cock," he gasped. "I want to see your cock." Still on his knees, Ryan raised himself up. As he did so, he had the air of someone looking up at breath-taking mountains, or just regaining their sight. He looked at Patrick with a look that said, "If you want it I'll be so happy to give it to you," and he pulled down his UA's revealing his steely curved nine-inch pole. If he wasn't feeling wanted already, Patrick's look of naked desire and rabid anticipation would have done the trick. Moving forward on his knees, he was perfectly poised to enter Patrick. He positioned the head and in one long, slow smooth thrust, completely entered the red head. "Awwww, ahhhhh, ooohhhh," gasped Patrick in pleasure, as he felt his fuck chute spread and filled with long hard cock. "Ohhhhh, that feels soooo goodÉ" Patrick gasped, "So good, yeah, oh yeah, that's it, yeah, oh, you're so hard, and it's so strong, ohhh, ohhhhhhh!" Ryan had taken over holding Patrick's ankles, and he pressed them back as he slowly thrust and Patrick reached for him, caressing his shoulders and chest and venturing to tweak one of the golden-brown thumbtack nipples. Patrick slid a little off the chair, which momentarily alarmed him until he realized it more firmly wedged his butt on Ryan's cock. "Ahhh," muttered Ryan. "What is it?" Ryan shook his head, smiling with pleasure, but he flashed back to Preston in his car. He'd asked a question of the teen and now he heard the answer again. "I dunno how you know, but sometimes you go real deep and it's like the head of your cock gets somewhere different and there's this heat, and it's super warm and it tries to hold you there. And afterwards, those are the guys who get pregnant." With Patrick impaled as deeply as could be on his rod Ryan felt a tingling heat on the head of his cock, surrounding it, almost as if it was pulling him in, telling him to thrust, wanting him to thrust, making him want to plow. Climbing up on top of Patrick, Ryan thrust vigorously, giving Patrick every inch of his cock, over and over, feeling the load boiling in his golden nuts, in his shaft, getting closer and closer, and then he was spurting deep inside Patrick, three, four, five, seven, nine times. Somewhere in there his mouth found Patrick's, and their tongues met, and their teeth clinked, and they breathed each other's breath, and the weight of Ryan and his arms around him, and the hard cock inside him made Patrick come. "You're beautiful, Ang Moh," Ryan whispered. "What's that?" "Red head." Patrick grinned. And smiled. And laughed. And caught his breath. "That was good. Can we do it again? But slower?" Ryan smiled and kissed him softly, his cock still extremely hard inside the blushing teen, "You read my mind." * * * Thanks for reading. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Please support Nifty. Thanks!