Date: Thu, 28 Mar 2019 06:01:08 -0500
From: Rusty Slocum <rustyslocumerotica@gmail.com>
Subject: Because: Heteroflexible #1 - Fuckin' Ugly

The Usual Disclaimers.  If you're not supposed to read this for any legal
or moral reason, then don't read it.  The characters in this story (none of
whom are based, in whole or in part, on any actual person, living or dead)
are any age you want them to be, but the actors portraying them are all
consenting adults.  Please realize this is fantasy.  The people in my tall
tales have no morals, no decency, nothing to lose. Doing anything like this
in real life could seriously jeopardize all parties, possibly resulting in
psychiatric counseling or even legal penalties.  No representation is made
that the exploits in this fiction are in any manner indicative of the
author's own sexual history and/or inclinations.  Just because I write this
shit doesn't mean I condone it.  This story belongs to me ©2019 and may
not be republished on any other site or situation without my express
written authorization.  Spit out your own dysfunctional erotica.  And
remember to donate to Nifty.  Let's face it, without Nifty you'd be stuck
with the generic porn of other sites, and who wants that crap?

Author's note: "Because: Heteroflexible" is a spin-off series set in the
same world and featuring a few of the same characters as in my (currently
ongoing) serial "Because".  The stories themselves are loosely connected in
flavor and a vague overall plot arc, but each one is narrated by a
different character and can be taken as a self-contained unit.  If you've
read the original "Because" then you'll already know that I like to play
with power dynamics and coercive situations, but I promise these to be much
darker in theme (if not in tone) and more nearly non-consensual.



FUCKIN' UGLY;
or, THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ORCS AND OGRES

a "Because: Heteroflexible" story
by
Rusty Slocum


	Hey, have you ever read the Nifty serial "Because"?  You have?
Remember Sam, the Scrabble genius with the cool duster and no supposed
sense of humor?  You know, the adorable one, with black hair and eyes,
round wire-frame spectacles, and a smooth and compact (some say narrow)
behind?  The one who never lies?  Well, I'm Sam, hi there, nice to meet
you.  My older brother Damien wrote (is still writing) that serial, an
account of this crazy weekend the two of us had with some friends and their
father, and while you wait for my long-winded brother to finish (he's hard
at work on 4b*, I swear!) I figured I'd spill an adventure of my own, one
that happened a few months later.  Rest easy, though, I write nothing like
Damien, bless his heart.  No meditative essays on the gender bias of shaven
pubes or flowery verse waxing rhapsodic about water gods, no (ancient) pop
culture references that even the narrator probably doesn't get, and no
freaking angst (well, not much) about what it all means.  I knew what I
wanted, I figured out a way to get it, and I'm going to tell you how I did.
Simple as that.

	And on that particular day, a gorgeous spring afternoon in the
middle of the week, I wanted a blowjob.  Wanted one bad.  So I dropped my
books at home, didn't bother changing (I wore khakis and a new yellow
button-down – I looked nice), and headed back out the door, considering
my options.  Since none of the girls I usually played with liked (or were
any good at) giving head, I shot a text to someone who did like it and was
excellent in performance.

	Sam: "hey what are you doing?"

	No immediate answer.  Probably blowing his older brother, the lucky
idiot.  My cock stirred around in my slacks as I imagined it, as I
remembered the things I'd done with my own brother.  For a minute I
considered texting Damien to see if he wanted to meet back home and play,
but we both agreed that, while we enjoyed what we'd done that weekend, any
further interaction between us was permanently off the table.  Damien had
wanted to build a bond with me, and we'd built it up strong and thick and
into a closer relationship than we'd ever known before, but from that point
on we figured we'd do best to leave the brick well enough alone.

	Besides, that bonehead doesn't think about anything but Rudy, as we
all well know.  Especially after what happened between the two of them
there at the end.  And no, before you ask, it's their story to tell.  Talk
to one of them.  Not that you'll ever get a straight answer.  They're both
boneheads.  Or boner-heads.  Get it?  Ha!  I crack myself up sometimes.

	Ding!

	Chad: "waiting on Rudy to get out of the shower so we can go the
mall, why what's up?"

	Sam: "not much just wondering if the cracker wanted some baloney?"

	I snickered at my own wit.

	Chad: "now now you know only Rudy calls me that – BABYBOI"

	Ouch.  Smartass.

	Sam: "smartass"

	Chad: "you started it"

	Sam: "but anyway want to take care of a little problem for me?"

	Chad: "I can't right now, maybe later?"

	"Damn," I said aloud.  "I'm horny now."

	Sam: "maybe, I gotta get home soon"

	Chad: "come on please Sam I want to!"

	I snorted.  As Damien put it, a cracker couldn't help himself.

	Sam: "maybe.  I'll text you later"

	Chad: "ok you better lol"

	I closed the conversation, considered what to do next.  Luckily I
had a plan b.  Inbred Wanda's brother Sloppy (don't call him that to his
face) Joey could always be counted on to swallow my cum, even though I
hadn't seen him in awhile.  And he's always home.  He doesn't blow as good
as Chad (doesn't possess the same eagerness to please, for one thing; it's
more about Joey getting off as opposed to his victim), but whenever I do
let him suck me he hands over a couple of porn mags tailored to my more,
shall we say, esoteric interests.  So, win/win, in the grand scheme of
things.

	Before I could text Joey, however, I was rudely interrupted.

	"Hey, you!  Magic boy!"

	Such sweet words, said with such malice.  I glanced up.

	"Yeah, you!"

	Ah, crap.

	An ugly kid stood there on the sidewalk, half a foot taller, forty
pounds heavier, a year or so older.  And when I say ugly I mean ugly.
Capital U G L Y.  Sawdust hair sanded down into a crew-cut over a long
stretch of pimpled five-head and small, narrow-lobed ears.  One bushy dark
brown eyebrow dive-bombing angry, deep-set brown eyes.  Flat, misshapen
nose between high, round cheekbones, all three decorated with zits and the
pockmarks of zits gone by.  Thin lips stretched across a much too generous
mouth.  No chin to speak of, although a few whiskers sprouted there anyway,
a pitiful beard to mask the backward slope.  Not only ugly, this kid, but
fugly, as my brother might say.  Fuckin' ugly.

	And instantly recognizable.  I'd seen him at school and around town
for most of my life, but we didn't really make an impression on each other
until a certain Saturday evening at Pizza Joint.  Maybe you read my
brother's account?  That was the night Damien and I declared ourselves
heteroflexible and negotiated the terms of our sexual involvement.  Halfway
through our pie-fest of sassy brotherly love, a fellowship of d20 gamers
led by my acquaintance Todd stormed the restaurant, and Ogre (as my brother
so aptly christened him then) was one of the nerds in tow.  You remember,
the one who kept compulsively playing with his dice, as if trying to fondle
them into rolling better numbers.  At one point that night, Ogre tried to
snark Damien and me, and I snarked him right back, two times and twice as
hard, even managing to humiliate the kid in front of his friends.  One of
my finer moments, if I do say so myself, but, strange as it may seem, Ogre
had never seen the humor in it, and every time I turned around lately I
spotted his fugly face glowering at me.

	"Well?" he and his uni-brow yapped, bringing me back to the
present.  "You gonna say anything?"

	I glanced down at his body while I decided how to answer.  Pudgy
but solid build, dressed in tight jeans and an oversize hand-me-down
football jersey.  A canvas DnD-decorated backpack, presumably loaded with
dice and rule-books and some kind of lame porn, swung from one shoulder.
Ham-hock fists opened and closed between us, fists that would hurt if I
bothered to let them land.  Huge feet stuffed into spiffy, brand-new black
sneakers.

	After a long moment that had him flexing and frothing with
impatience, I deigned to answer him.  "Hail and well met."

	Ignoring the traditional greeting of d20 nerds everywhere from
Icewind Dale to The Sword Coast, Ogre dropped the backpack on the sidewalk
and took a step forward.  "I been looking for you."

	"Maybe you need glasses," I sympathized in my least-convincing
concerned tone.  "I've seen you around a lot."  So much so that I'd started
to get bored with his overt glaring and to wonder if he'd ever make his
move.  He would have to pick a day I had plans and was dressed nice.
Inconsiderate jerk.

	"Yeah, but we're alone this time," he said, cracking his knuckles
and sneering at me.  Jeez, how cliche can you get?  "None of either of our
friends around to stop us."  He took another step, bouncing on the balls of
his feet and holding his fists up in that classic stance universally known
as "playground bully".

	Just for laughs, I took a step back, pretending he intimidated me.
"Oh, oh, I get it," I said, holding up my palms.  "You mean this is the
first time you've seen me without my big brother around to protect me."

	"I'm not scared of your brother," he snarled, even though my taunt
hit him directly between the eyes.  "Fuck both y'all."  Another step
forward, and he swung.

	Sigh.  Here we go.

	I danced back, easily evading the hook, and he grunted in
annoyance.  I flickered my gaze up over his right shoulder and exclaimed,
"Hey Damien, Ogre isn't scared of you!"  The stupid brute glanced back over
his shoulder and I jabbed a punch into his fleshy gut.  He "oof"-ed in
surprise and swung his other fist, but I bounced back so it missed just as
handily as the first.

	"Will you stand still?" he grunted, holding off his next attack.

	"Will you knock off the UFC auditions?" I scowled back.  "Ogre, I
snarked you fair and square, chalk it up as `lesson learned' and move on to
a happier future.  I got places to be."

	"I got places to be, too," he spat at me, his breath rank with the
reek of peanut butter and cheap soda, "but do you know how much shit my
friends still give me over what you did?"  He shot a blow at my own quite
masculine chin, but I swayed back, didn't even counter, not wanting to
dishevel my outfit.

	"Not half as much shit as they'll give you when word gets out I
kicked your ass for real," I warned him.

	Another blow, aimed where my ear would be if I didn't see the fist
coming.  I wasn't so lucky with the spittle of his frustration, though;
that hit me dead in the cheek.  Gross.

	"Will you please stop talking and fucking fight?"  He tried an
uppercut this time, but I fell back, and, tired of the whole business, I
kicked high up into his inner thigh, not hard, but enough to scare him and
cause him to drop his fists to clutch protectively at his crotch.

	"Normally this is where I finish you off, while you're open like
that, but I'm feeling generous today.  Get lost, Ogre.  Before you really
regret it."

	Sure that I'd made my point, and, okay, wanting to test him a
little too, I turned my back.  As I'd half-expected, he chose that moment
to attack.  I smelled his rank breath coming, so I twisted and grabbed his
arm and, betraying him with his own momentum, tripped him over and threw
him belly-first at the ground.  He hit the sidewalk with a scraping thud
and rolled away, coming to rest on his back several feet away.  He started
to push himself up but I shook my head and he stilled.

	"Stay down, Ogre," I advised, wiping his spittle off my face.
"Trust me when I say I've got a much more fun event planned for the next
hour than beating your fugly mug into the ground again and again."

	"I'll never give up," he promised, breathing hard, sweating hard,
glaring hard from his position in the dirt.  If he tried to stand I'd take
him out, and he knew it.  "When you least expect it expect it."

	Grudgingly impressed at his tenacity, if not his originality, I
asked, "Jeez, how much crack do you have to smoke to achieve such
single-minded devotion to getting your teeth kicked in?"

	"My, my dad calls it character," he informed me, "and overcoming
obstacles is key to building character."  Oh, okay, I got it.  Ogre's
father was embarrassed that a nerd embarrassed his own nerd son's ass and
was on junior's case to get physical revenge, even though junior had zero
talent in fisticuffs.  I kind of felt sorry for the poor bastard, but not
enough to tell him so. "And you, magic boy, you are most definitely a
freaking obstacle."  Thus confirming my theory.  He pursed his lips, a
scruffy no-chin baby making kissy-face.  "I'll never stop until I get
even."

	Goddamn it!  I don't have time for this! I thought, watching his
large, thin-lipped mouth make kissy-kissy at me again.  I wanted to pick
something up and ram it down his throat.

	And just like that a multi-stage idea popped, fully formed, into my
mind.  An idea to both shut Ogre down permanently and get my own dick
sucked like I'd been craving all day.  A Rudy kind of idea, I suppose.  So,
yeah, pretty damn idiotic, but I figured it might be fun.  I had to play it
my own way, though, and keep the bullshit-n-sugar to a bare minimum.  Like
Damien said, I never lie.  Not because of my impeccable moral integrity (I
have no morals, did you not read the disclaimer on your way in?) but
because I'm horrible at it.  Sometimes, however, if I'm lucky (or they're
stupid), I can persuade people to lie to themselves.

	Damien would tell me not to do it.  That I did not possess the
necessary obfuscation skills and diversionary tactics.  Well, fuck him.
Never let it be said I turned down a direct imaginary challenge from my
brother, or even from myself.

	Stage 1: Help Ogre persuade himself to accompany me to Sloppy
Joey's house.

	I blew out a reluctant sigh, as if depressed by the vision of
interminable warfare and Ogre's own inevitable victory.  "I'm not looking
forward to all that, now.  What if I make it up to you instead?"

	His uni-brow furrowed.  "How could you possibly?"  As if I'd
strangled his hamster or something instead of slinging mere creative snark.

	"Stand up, Ogre."  I reached out a hand, and, surprised, he took
it, let me pull him to his feet.  "Good.  I can't talk to you down on the
ground like that."

	Ogre huffed but, still intrigued by my offer to make up for my
slights, let the insult pass.  He also neglected to thank me for helping
him rise.  Rude.  "I'm listening, magic boy," he said, straightening his
jersey and brushing off his flat rump.  "And it better be worth it," he
warned, "or I'll stop playing around and punch your lights out."

	How cute.  I wanted to remark on his clear sense of unreality but,
in the interests of getting my dick sucked and making it home before Mom or
Damien started blowing up my phone (ninety or so minutes), I just nodded.

	"It'll be worth it," I assured him.  "Only, you know Inbred Wanda?"

	Ogre cocked his head at me.  "My dad does," he admitted.  Meaning,
his dad probably bought her pot and fucked her in the ass.  I wondered if
Ogre surmised that.  "And I have a couple classes with her brother."

	"Well, I was just on my way over to their house, and I thought
maybe you'd like to come with."

	"I don't get high, dork," he sneered at me.  "Drugs are for
losers."  Ah, so he did know Wanda's reputation, half of it anyway.

	 "I wasn't going over there to get high, either," I told him,
although I probably wouldn't pass up a toke if Sloppy Joey offered, which
he probably would.

	"Then why else?"  He looked me up and down, unimpressed by my
appearance.  "Why would she fuck you?"  Thus proving he knew the other half
of Inbred Wanda's reputation.  Not really a surprise, in this town.  "You
ain't nothing but a runt."

	I nodded like he spoke the truth, and he did.  Kind of.  I'm
stronger than (and almost as smart as) I look.

	"Well, I'm not a runt, at least not all over," I informed him,
glancing down very ostentatiously at my crotch, making Ogre snort, "but I'm
not big enough to fill up the canyon between her legs, that's for sure."

	"I've heard she's been around," Ogre gossiped.  "Fucked most of the
high school, and half the town.  Bound to be a canyon by now."

	I nodded at Ogre's sage observation.  "Exactly.  No way I'd want to
fuck her.  But Ogre my man, let me tell you, she's got a mouth that'd suck
the chrome off a plastic hubcap."  And then chew through the tires, from
the stories I've heard.

	Ogre flushed.  "All that experience, I guess."

	"All that experience," I agreed, and paused.  Always, always, let
the mark come to you.

	Took him a minute, but finally, "So you were going to her house so
you could get . . . so you could . . ."

	I nodded again.  "I was going over there right now to get some
head."

	"Whoa.  No way."

	"Whoa yes way.  So you see why I don't have time to fight?"

	"I've heard worse excuses," he allowed.  He paused, and I let him,
giving him time to work it out in his own mind.  "So, your idea about
making it up to me . . . ?"

	I nodded for a third time.  Jeez, simple as taking candy from a
dead baby.  "If I got you some head too, would you be willing to call it
even?"

	He pretended to ponder it, and I knew he was pretending because his
right hand unconsciously rubbed at his crotch the entire time he pretended.
I have to admit I was impressed by the mound of his package.  Even soft, it
appeared he had a pecker to match his name stuffed in his jeans.

	"I guess," he said finally, then peered at me with what he thought
a shrewd expression.  "But I get to tell my dad I kicked your ass, too."

	"Done."  He'd tell his dad that anyway, so the concession cost me
nothing.  "Grab your purse and let's go."

	He hefted the backpack, but I could hear the hamster wheel spinning
in Ogre's head.  "Hey, magic boy."

	"Sam."

	"Okay, Sam, I'm DJ."  I waited, not caring.  "Are you sure she's
really good at that?  I mean," and here Ogre looked both embarrassed and
arrogant, "I got a pretty big dick.  Sure she can handle it?"

	I deliberately looked down at his crotch, like I doubted him, even
though I kind of didn't, and he flushed again.  "The mouth you're about to
fuck will take every inch, no matter what you're packing.  And, Ogre, my
friend, I guarantee it can you make you cum twice."  I'd make sure of that;
it was essential to my plan, and besides, the poor bastard deserved some
sort of compensation for what I meant to put him through.

	The idea of two orgasms intrigued him, so much so that he forgot to
breathe for a second.  Still didn't keep him from grousing.  "Stop calling
me Ogre," he insisted when he could talk again.  "My name is DJ, dork."

	Don't worry, I didn't go for the obvious.  Instead, I glanced down
at his crotch again, noting it had swelled some.  "Looks more like Ogre to
me."

	"Knock that shit off, man!"  Not much heat, though, and again,
embarrassed arrogance bloomed on his fugly face.  Choosing not to fight me
over anything as silly as a name or a wayward glance when a blowjob loomed
on the horizon, he muttered, "I'm not playing though.  I've got a big dick,
almost as big as my d--, uh, I mean, I got a big dick, and I want to make
sure she can handle it.  Most girls can't," he boasted as an afterthought.

	"Must suck to be you, then," I commented.  "Are you coming or not?"

	Ogre thought for a serious minute about backing out, long enough
for me to wonder if I'd lost him.  I'd have been willing to bet he was a
virgin, and that the lure of easy sex terrified as much as enticed.  Even
toss-up, I thought, on whether or not he had the nerve.

	Well, he found some nerve.  Somewhere.  "Yeah, I'm coming," he
finally huffed.  "But if you're fucking with me I'll make you regret it."

	I nodded and pulled out my phone.  "Understood," I assured him.
"Just let me text over there real quick first."

	Sam: "wanna have some fun?"

	The reply dinged back immediately.  No text, just an emoticon of an
upraised thumb.  A man of few words, our Sloppy Joey.

	Sam: "bringing a kid DJ from school, follow my lead"

	Ding!  Another emoticon, a horny red devil with an evil grin.  I
put my away my phone and raised my eyebrow to Ogre.  "Okay, all set.
Ready?"  He nodded and I cocked my head, indicating for him to follow.  His
face still looked doubtful, but his lumbering stride matched mine for
eagerness.  As we walked, I wondered just exactly how stupid Ogre really
was.  I might have been leading him to anything from being ambushed by my
brother to being sold off to a fugly brothel.  Doesn't it take intelligence
and wisdom to play role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons?  Maybe my
charisma swayed him.  I mean, let's face it, not even Chad would have
fallen for my scam, and Chad falls hard and willing for almost anything.

	Guess they mean it when they say a hard dick (such as Ogre's, or
even Chad's) overrules common sense.  Just like when they say that hard
dick (such as mine) has no conscience.

	Funny how life is always on about proving cliches true.

	I can hear Damien in my head.  "Anyhow, Sam."

	Anyhow, within a very few minutes we stood on Sloppy Joey's front
porch.  I paused before the front door and looked back at Ogre.

	"Ready?"

	He didn't answer, and I read the fear and discomfort writ large on
his face.  The pity I'd felt for him earlier washed back, and it made me
feel small and mean to consider how easily I'd manipulated him into pushing
for his own downfall.

	"Look, DJ, we don't have to do this, you know.  Not if you don't
want to."

	Guess he recognized my pity and didn't like it, for he lashed out
with, "You trying to weasel out on me, magic boy?  You either make up for
what you did like you promised or I'll be coming after you again, twice as
hard this time."

	With those calm and measured words, my pity for him vanished.  Not
trusting myself to speak, I just nodded at him and pushed open Sloppy
Joey's front door.

	Stage 1 complete.

	Stage 2: Use Sloppy Joey as backup and Inbred Wanda as bait.  They
won't mind.

	"What the hell are you doing?" my alarmed companion hissed.
"Shouldn't you knock?"

	"Nobody would answer.  Come on, Ogre."  He huffed at the name but
followed.  Wanda and Joey's bald, skinny dad sat in a recliner in the far
corner of the living room, watching television and drinking beer and
chain-smoking roll-yer-owns.  He didn't say anything as we entered, not
that I'd expected him to, just lifted a hand in greeting and otherwise
ignored us.  We stepped on through into the dine-in kitchen, where a metric
ton (I'm exaggerating, by a smidge) of fragrant green marijuana lay on the
table, heaped up there beside a set of digital scales, a pair of scissors,
and a box of store-brand baggies.

	"I don't know about this, Sam," Ogre muttered under his breath, his
nostrils quivering at the pungent smell.  "What if the police show up while
we're here?  My dad will kill me if I get busted in a drug house."

	"The police aren't going to show up here anytime soon," I placated
the drama queen.  "Unless they want their cut, but even then they won't
fuck with us."

	"So you say," Ogre groused.

	"Just come on," I ordered him, exasperated.  "The sooner we get our
rocks off the sooner we can leave."

	"This fucking better be worth it," Ogre said for about the
millionth time, but he followed me into the narrow hallway leading to the
bedrooms.  A door stood ajar about halfway down, light spilling out onto
the worn carpet.  I peered around the edge of the frame and spotted Inbred
Wanda sitting on the pot, a faded yellow sundress bunched around her waist,
a look of stoned complacency on her face.  Even as I said, "Hi Wanda," she
let go and I heard the sound of her piss streaming into the bowl.

	"Hi, Sam," she said, waving to me, not one bit discomfited.  "And
Sam's friend," she added as Ogre poked his head around his corner.  His
face blanched when he realized her activity, and he barely grunted out some
sort of strangled greeting before he threw himself back into the hall.  I
saluted Wanda and took hold of Ogre's sleeve, having to yank him past the
doorway to get him to follow.  As he passed he looked anywhere but back in
the bathroom.

	"Sam, this is really starting to freak me out," he muttered into my
ear.  "And why did you just keep on going?  Aren't we here to see her
anyway?  Not that I wanted to see her do that," he added in a rush.

	I heaved out a long suffering sigh.  "Will you please just relax
for a minute?  I promise, this will all go down, just let me set it up,
mm-kay?"

	"I thought you already had it set up," he snapped back.  Honestly,
I almost wished I'd kicked his ass and been done with it.  But, oh well,
since we were there, I ignored Ogre's snark and dragged him and his sleeve
further down the hall.

	The last door on the right stood half-open, and I tapped on it
before stepping through into a gloomy room lit only by late afternoon
sunshine dripping through a cowboys-and-horsies curtained window, the glow
of a blue-screened television, and a small bendable lamp on a messy,
overflowing computer desk.  Sloppy Joey, an orc to Ogre's ogre, sat in a
messy, overflowing lump on his bed, wearing red sweats and a loose blue
t-shirt, his curly brown hair bound up in some kind of complicated man-bun
that slanted his eyebrows and gave his moon-face a sumo-wrestler cast.  A
bottle of Mountain Dew lay at his side, a tray of weed sat in his lap, and
he held a ceramic pipe in his hand.

	"Hola, Joey," I said, stepping on inside and dragging Ogre along
with me.  The room smelled of dirty laundry, Cheetos, feet, and semen.  And
pot.  Lots of pot.  Ogre hesitated, but allowed himself to be pulled in.
Indicating Ogre, I continued, "You know BJ from school, don't you?"

	"It's Ogre," Ogre corrected me, then corrected himself, "I mean,
it's DJ, not BJ.  And not Ogre, either."  I felt his glare somewhere on the
back of my neck, not that I gave a rat's ass.

	Sloppy Joey nodded once to me, in greeting, nodded again that, yes,
he did indeed remember Ogre/BJ/DJ from school, and nodded a third time,
saying hello to the kid.  Then he held out the pipe, which I accepted with
a sigh of relief.  Running this scam on Ogre, while easy enough, took a
toll on my winning disposition.

	"Hiya, Joey," Ogre acknowledged before turning his guns on me.  "I
thought you didn't smoke weed, Sam."

	"I never said that," I said, taking a big ol' toke.  "I said I
wasn't coming over here to get high.  I never said anything about not
accepting a hit if my amazing friend Joey so graciously offered.  It's only
polite."  Joey winked at me.  "I'm telling you, Ogre, I never lie.  I'm
constitutionally unable."

	"Rules lawyer, then," he grumbled.

	"Hah!" I snorted.  "Pot, meet kettle.  We're both black."

	"Are you stoned already?  Dork."

	"You ought to take a hit too," I advised.  "Might settle your
nerves some.  You're a bit tetchy right now, you know."

	"I.  Don't.  Get high.  I told you, remember?"

	I shrugged.  "Your loss."  I took another hit, then passed the bowl
back to Sloppy Joey.

	"Can you please get to what you promised, Sam, before I listen to
my better judgment and take a hike?"

	"Calm your tits, Ogre, we're getting there.  Have you never heard
of the social niceties?"

	Huff.

	"So Joey," I said, passing back the pipe, "I need a favor."

	Sloppy Joey inclined his chins, listening.

	"I did my buddy DJ --"

	"BJ!"

	"-- Ogre here a pretty bad turn awhile back, and I'd like to make
it up to him."

	Joey nodded and raised an eyebrow.

	"Well, we got to talking about Wanda, and the subject of blowjobs
came up."

	Ogre gasped at my crudity in speaking to her brother like that, but
Joey only raised the other eyebrow, waiting for me to go on.  Following my
lead, like I'd asked.

	"So I was thinking I'd bring him over here, get him one of those
special long-lasting deep-throat rod-massages for which this house is so
well known."

	Sloppy Joey snorted, catching on to the scam and that I meant his
own vacuum mouth.  Everybody (except Ogre, apparently) knows that Inbred
Wanda sucks dick about as well as a puppy eats pussy.  In other words, full
of biting and clawing and a plethora of pained whimpers.

	"What do you think, Joey?  Could my bruddah Ogre here get a
blowjob, if I asked nicely?  He wants to cum twice, too.  Don't you, BJ?"

	Ogre stood stock still and probably rock hard (I felt it imprudent
to check at that moment) beside me, breathing rougher than he'd done even
when he attacked.  He'd stopped trying to protest my every word, at least.
"Uh, yeah."  He swallowed so hard he almost sucked the words back too.

	"So, yeah, Joey, he needs to shoot two loads.  Think we can make
that happen?"

	Joey shrugged, but a smile played on his lips.

	"Here's where the favor from you comes in."  Sloppy Joey waited, an
orcish Buddha.  "You mind if we do it in your room?"  I turned to Ogre and
drew in a breath.  This next bit might be tricky, and stretching my
rules-lawyer definition of "no lies", but I needed to forestall any
questions by answering them beforehand.  "We can't get you head in Wanda's
room for, um, reasons," I paused long enough for a few possible reasons of
his own imagining to cross through his mind, "so you don't mind doing it in
here either, do you?"

	Ogre glanced around the pigsty, took in the clothing scattered
across the floor, the soda bottles and dirty dishes on every available
counter, the bulk of Sloppy Joey and his nest of sweaty, likely
semen-encrusted blankets on the sagging twin bed.  Weighed that against the
imagined depredations of Wanda's room.  "Naw, I don't mind."  He swallowed
again.  Then in a sudden burst of violence, "But nobody gets to watch Wanda
suck me, neither you nor Joey, I don't care whose room it is!"

	"Ogre," I asked, with obvious sincerity, "why would either Joey or
I want to watch his sister suck your dick?"  I shuddered, and Joey did too,
shaking his whole bed.  "Gross."

	Placated, Ogre just nodded and said, "Okay then, yeah, in here is
cool."

	I paused for a moment, relieved that he'd sold himself on what I
peddled, then motioned to Joey for a celebratory toke.  Hitting the bowl, I
glanced down and saw that, as I'd figured earlier, Ogre sported an
impressive anticipatory bulge snaking down the front of his jeans.  Sloppy
Joey clocked it too, and his mouth dropped open (shock, hunger, take your
pick).  Ogre spotted us spotting it, and he jerked to cover his excitement
with those ham-hock hands, but then he let them drop and set his uni-brow
and wide, thin-lipped mouth into a smirk, daring us not to look.  I
finished toking and handed Ogre the pipe and lighter, which he took and
raised to his lips until he remembered lying to my face about how he never
got high.  Losing the smirk, he pushed the pipe and lighter on to Joey,
then crossed his arms and glared and thrust out his hips, emphasizing that
lap-log of which he was both so proud and embarrassed.  I swear he pulsed
it at me.

	I rolled my eyes and turned back to Joey.  "So what do you say,
Joey old pal?  Can we do this in your room?"

	Sloppy Joey pretended to think about it while he did a hit of his
own, then blew out the smoke and dipped his man-bun.

	"Awesome, Joey, thanks, I owe you.  Hey, Ogre-man, relax.  You look
so much like a fugly statue I keep waiting for a fugly pigeon to crap on
you."  He glared.  So predictable.  "Seriously, drop your backpack, cop a
squat, chill-ax.  Joey won't mind."  Joey shook his head, he didn't mind in
the slightest.  I pulled out the chair from the computer desk, used my knee
to knock a pair of orc-sized boxers into the mess littering the carpet.
"Come on, Ogre, sit."

	Ogre grumbled but, as directed, crossed the room and dropped down
into the chair, shrugged his backpack to the floor.  I hoped he'd be able
to find it again when we got ready to leave.

	Back to Joey, "Can you keep my friend entertained while I go talk
to your sister?"  The orc nodded and, reaching into his nest of blankets,
pulled out a tv remote.  Within seconds, the high-pitched wail of a bimbo
mid-orgasm blew through the television speakers, almost deafening us.  Joey
pinked and thumbed the volume down.  I glanced over at Ogre to find his
attention riveted to the fuck flick, and even as I watched him his hand
drifted down to rub lightly at the snake in his jeans.  I caught Joey's eye
and we grinned.

	Like I said before, simple as taking candy from a dead baby.
Simpler, even.

	Leaving Ogre in the capable hands of the obliging Sloppy Joey, I
hurried back down the hall to the kitchen.  Inbred Wanda sat at the table,
cutting into buds of marijuana and smoking a blunt the size of Denver.
"Hey, Wanda, can I ask you a favor?"

	They don't call her easy for nothin'.  "Sure, Sam, what's up?"

	I felt not the slightest jot of embarrassment explaining the
situation and what I needed from her.  I'm positive she's heard weirder and
done worse.  Half the town supplies her weed, the other half buys it, and
both halves fuck her up the ass.  She's got dirt on everybody.  But she
never gossips – indeed, hardly seems to notice.  She either a) doesn't
care because she doesn't care, b) doesn't care because she's too stoned to
care, or c) is saving up for a tell-all that'll send our poor burg into
meltdown.

	My money is on option b, but I wouldn't rule out c as a long shot.

	 After hearing my request, Wanda exhaled the toke she'd been
holding through my entire recitation and nodded.  "Sounds like fun, Sam."
She stood up and, heedless of her father still vegetating in his chair not
too many feet away, slid out of her sundress, leaving her clad in only pink
granny-panties. Although Wanda's pond-shaped face and fish-water blond hair
barely hit the mark for ordinary, she's got a class set of boobs and a body
like a fine racehorse: strong, limber, and well-ridden.  My cock twinged in
my pants at the screenshots my eyes sent (first twinge I'd felt since I'd
entered in on my little scam; mind-fuckery takes concentration) but I
ignored it.  I wasn't in the mood for pussy (right now, anyway) and Wanda
would always be there should I ever decide to go slumming.

	So, naked (not nekkid) but for the granny-panties, Wanda followed
me back down the hall to her brother's room, where we found Ogre still
enraptured with the porn and Sloppy Joey still enraptured with Ogre's
even-more-swollen-by-then bulge.  Joey's face screamed enough hunger to
give the whole game away, but Ogre paid no attention to the starving orc,
instead had his uni-brow aimed at the television and Joey's ceramic bowl
aimed at his lips.  I'm sure he would have dropped the pipe if he'd seen
me, but when he registered new movement in the room the first person he
noticed wasn't me but granny-pantsed Wanda, and his entire attention
snagged there.  He did drop the hand holding the pipe, though, right on top
of the snake in his jeans; so caught up was he in his gazing at the first
almost-nude woman he'd ever seen in his virgin life that he never realized
it when I slid the ceramic dick from his grip, never realized that the
brush of my fingers made his actual dick pulse.  He caught his breath in a
strangled gasp, but he never realized.

	As soon as Sloppy Joey espied sister-boobs he made of moue of
disgust and scrambled off the bed and out the door, surprisingly graceful
and light on his feet.  I wondered, for a second, if Joey were as hard as
Ogre, but it was impossible to tell under his loose clothing and all that
blubber.  Nobody I know has ever seen Sloppy Joey either naked or nekkid,
and truth be told I'd be surprised if Joey has ever even seen his own dick,
no matter how many times he's held it.

	Not trying to be mean, but still.

	While I sucked up a toke or two and planned out the next bit, I
listened to the sounds of tv fucking and of Sloppy Joey pissing with the
bathroom door open down the hall, watched Ogre's gaze fall and rise from
Wanda's bodacious boobs to her granny-panties then back to the boobs,
lingering more on the panties with every pass.  The ham-hock hand from
which I'd stolen the pipe rubbed at his crotch as if the almost-naked woman
in front of him were just another porn bimbo to wank to.

	Inbred Wanda stood there in his view, stoned indifference on her
face, just another porn bimbo to be wanked to.

	The toilet flushed, the bimbo on tv reached her tenth or so orgasm
in a row, and I opened my mouth.  "So what do you think, Wanda?" I asked,
tucking the pipe back between the ham-hock and the hard place, eliciting
another uncomprehending gasp from Ogre.  "His face isn't so bad once you
get used to it, huh?"  No, I wasn't lying; his malicious mug had started to
grow on me, in a gruesome horror movie kind of way.  Ogre didn't hear my
back-handed compliment anyhow.  His leering now loitered almost exclusively
on the granny-panties, causing me to wonder if we'd planted the seed of a
lifelong fetish in his sexual undergrowth.  Putting that aside as a
nonsensical distraction, I fed Inbred Wanda the cue I'd so carefully
crafted.  "Would you do him, Wanda?"  Ogre did hear that, and he stopped
breathing to await her answer.

	While we waited (and waited) for Wanda to respond, Sloppy Joey
appeared in the doorway, but I held him off with a raised finger.  He
frowned, rubbed his belly, and stalked off to the kitchen, presumably to
eat the refrigerator.

	Finally, finally, Wanda spoke.  "I'd do him, Sam."  She quoted the
one line I'd given her in a stoned, serene, oh-so-serious voice that
sounded, to me, like she might live or die unperturbed with or without the
experience.  Ogre took her at her word, however, and a blatant stroke on
his snake shot a hiss through his lips and sent the pipe tumbling to the
floor, where it disappeared forever from the remainder of this narrative.

	Perfect.  I was about to dismiss Wanda when she decided on a little
improvisation, bless her heart.  "You wanna touch my titty, Sam's friend?"

	Ogre raised his uni-brow, questioning his luck, and nodded so hard
his eyeballs near fell out.  Wanda stepped forward, and he sucked in a
breath, swallowed it whole, and lifted a trembling hand (not the ham-hock
that all-but-unconsciously stroked his snake, but the other) to the
underside of her boob, slid it up to rub and tweak her nipple.  Wanda
didn't move, although the florid nubbin swelled under his touch (habit,
probably).  Ogre stroked it a moment, then let his caress drop down her
abdomen, across her belly-button, and just before he hit the elastic band
of her panties Wanda stepped back, leaving him with hooked fingers and a
betrayed whine deep in his throat.

	Wanda smiled at me, said again, "I'd do him, Sam," sounding a
little more believable, then, winking once more at poor ensorcelled Ogre,
turned and walked away.  You ever heard the saying "I hate to see her go
but I love to watch her leave"?  Yeah, Ogre's face originated that
atrocious cliche.  His labored breathing competing with the squelching
sounds of rut leaking from the forgotten television's speakers, Ogre rubbed
at his cock like he fancied himself alone in the room, at least until Wanda
closed the door behind her, when he came to and remembered he wasn't.  He
snatched his hands away from his pulsating denim-encased rod and glared at
me and at the smug smile on my face.

	Stage 2 complete.

	Stage 3: Somehow coerce Ogre into agreeing to my insane rules.

	"What the fuck is going on here, where did she go?" he bullied.

	"There are rules --" I began.

	"The rules are you leave the room and shut the door, she gets me
two nuts, I forgive your insults and go home!"  As if of its own volition
his hand drifted back down to his crotch, but he caught the movement in
time to arrest it.  His snake throbbed at me, displeased.  "Those are the
freaking rules!"

	"Do you want to do this or not?" I demanded.  "Do you want a
blowjob or do you want to just give up and jack off here and now and
forever-fucking-more?"

	He shot me the finger, then defiantly rested his hand in its former
position on his snake.  Almost rid of his troublesome embarrassment.  Good
on him.

	"There are rules to this, DJ," using his real name to emphasize how
serious I was, "and if you want your two orgasms you'll follow them.  Got
it?"

	A battle of glowering wills, and the person holding the blowjob
keys won.

	"I got it, I got it," he groused.  "Anybody ever tell you talk too
much?"

	"Only if they've never met my brother.  First things first.
Besides right now, when's the last time you rolled the bone?"

	Ogre's face flushed the most interesting shade of red I'd yet seen
from him.  He still held some embarrassment, then.  Imagine that.  He
yanked his ham-hock away from his hobby and spat at me, "I don't
masturbate, not ever, I don't have to, and what does that have to do with
stupid rules anyway?"

	"Because you need to be able to last awhile before you cum!" I
exclaimed as if exasperated he didn't realize this.

	"What does it matter how long I last the first time if I'm going to
get to go again?"  His red face darkening steadily into maroon, his big
brown uni-brow jack-knifed and sliding on his forehead.  "You're fucking
with me, I don't know how but I know you are!"

	This last statement, by far the wisest thing that had fallen from
his thin lips since the first time he'd called me "magic boy", told me to
watch myself and be careful.  In truth, I needed him to hold off his orgasm
for at least thirty or so seconds after Joey's tongue touched his cock, but
I couldn't tell him why.  Luckily, before I was forced to consider spouting
some intelligent and creative lie (like "I'm not fucking with you") and so
blowing the whole plot out of the water, inspiration struck as I heard
Sloppy Joey's heavy-but-soft tread plodding up the hall.  "That gorgeous
cocksucker out there --" (in case Joey could hear me) "-- likes to suck for
a long time before you give up the old juice.  And likes big loads, too.
That's why I'm asking about the last time you spanked."

	Glare.

	I sighed.  "I did it myself in the shower this morning and again at
lunch when I was thinking about getting blown after school.  I'll be able
to last awhile, at least, but the cocksucker is shit outta luck for
anything more than a light snack from me."

	He let go the glare and admitted in a grudging mutter, "Yesterday.
Only once, though."

	Which meant only twice.  Hmm.  Maybe we should just hope for the
best.

	Ogre picked up on my pessimism.  "I can last a long time, easy!
And I always shoot a big load too.  Trust me."

	Guess I'd have to.  "There, was that so hard?"

	Glare.

	Moving on along, "And you have to be nekkid on the bed.  Not a
stitch."

	Ogre crossed his arms, glare intensifying to undreamt heights.  His
dick pulsed at me again.  "Nuh-uh.  Not happening."  He spun in the
computer chair and gazed around the pigsty with utter disgust.  Not that I
blamed him, but then again I thought the decor somehow added to Sloppy
Joey's charm.  "Not.  Happening.  I'll sit here and fish it out through my
zipper."

	I shot a pointed glance at his rager.  Seething, it throbbed.  "You
fish that whale out through your zip you'll be lucky if the teeth don't
strangle and claw it to death."

	Ogre glanced down, smirked.  "The whale will be okay."  He didn't
sound like he believed it, but he said it.

	"Nekkid or no blowjob."

	"Why isn't Wanda laying this shit down herself?"

	"Who said Wanda made the rules?"

	"I knew you were fucking with me!"

	"Of course I'm fucking with you!  I'm trying to get you laid!
Jeez.  Show a little gratitude and cooperation!  One of these blankets is
bound to be marginally cleaner than the rest, find it and stretch it out on
the bed.  Sit on the side, lay back, spread your legs.  Couldn't be
easier."

	He studied my face, his snake still pulsing in his pants.  I
wondered if he got a charge out of sexual conflict, like a couple other
people I knew.  At last he sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Fine.  But can we
do this now?  I need to be home before supper or my dad'll roast my ass."

	"I'm not finished," I told him, and he groaned.  "You can't watch.
Put a pillow on your face or something."

	Out all my seemingly whimsical rules (I had my reasons; just wait)
I'd expected this to be the one that truly sent Ogre into berserk mode.
Instead, all I got was a dark stare, a long pause, and then, finally, "Oh.
It's like that, huh?"  He suddenly appeared on the verge of tears.

	"What?" I asked, honestly confused.  "Like what?"

	Avoiding my eyes, Ogre rose from the chair, bent down and grabbed
the straps of his backpack.  "Look, maybe we should just forget this.  Best
thing for everybody."  Even his pecker drooped in his pants.

	"What are you talking about?"

	He swung the pack onto his shoulders.  "I'm not stupid, you know."
He paused, as if waiting for me to contradict him.  I didn't, wondering
where he was going with this.  "I know . . . I mean, I'm well aware I got a
face only a blind mother could love.  But for Wanda to want me to actually
cover it up while she, while she, you know, does that . . ."  He trailed
off, looking anywhere but at me or at the porn.  "So I'll go ahead and go,
Sam.  And don't worry.  We're even.  I'll leave you alone."  Defeated,
still not looking at me, he turned towards the door.

	What the hell?  I'd hurt his feelings!  "You mean to tell me, after
everything I've said to you today, after every insult and put-down, THAT
bothers you?"

	He scowled.  "I'm not stupid," he said again.  "Telling me I can't
watch really means so she doesn't have to watch me.  I don't blame her,
either."  At last he glared at me.  "But I'm not gonna be anybody's pity
fuck."

	For the first time in our entire encounter I felt out of my depth.
So easy for me to deal with insulted anger or outraged disbelief or hostile
confusion, but wounded pride?  I didn't even know where to start.  "Look,
Ogre --"

	"See!" he cried out, anguished.  "That's what I'm talking about!
I'm so ugly you can't even remember my real name!"

	"DJ."  He didn't respond.  I said it again.  "DJ!  Do you think I
call you Ogre because of your face?"  No answer.  "My brother's the one
named you Ogre, that very first night in Pizza Joint.  Yeah, your face was
part of it, and your size, because you're a big kid and you even loom over
people taller than you.  But Damien wasn't talking about your looks so much
as he was your attitude, your truculence, your all-around Felcher Of The
Year vibe."

	"That supposed to make me feel better?  Not working!"

	"I'm not about making anybody feel better," I answered sharply.  "I
told you, I don't lie, and I'm not going to bullshit you and claim your
face will launch a thousand ships when you'd be lucky to float a leaky
rowboat."

	"Hey!  Harsh much?"

	"You know what might help your looks?  Invest in some tweezers.
Some acne cream.  You've got good cheekbones, pretty eyes.  Emphasize them.
Grow out your hair.  It's your hair, not your father's, wear it how you
want."  He flinched, and I saw I'd struck a nerve, so I hurried on.  "But
mostly?  Stop squinting like a near-sighted rottweiler and furrowing that
one brow at people like they were less than shit on your sneakers.  And try
on a smile every so often.  You'd be surprised how much beauty that might
add."

	A long pause, then, shooting me a shy glance that suddenly gave him
a vulnerability, a humanity, that I later wished I'd never seen, he asked,
"Really?"

	Had nobody ever told him that before?  How sad.  "Really."

	No reaction to my affirmation.  He merely stood there, pondering my
words, his backpack on his shoulders and his humongous feet still aimed at
the door.  Maybe I should just let him go, I thought.  Push him off the
hook.  Although Joey would be disappointed, he'd get over it and blow me
anyway.  Hopefully.  But I had a sneaking suspicion that if DJ walked out
that door right then, with his confidence shattered and without his
promised two orgasms, he'd likely be a virgin until death, or at least
until college.  Considering the situation in that light, I'd be committing
a greater disservice by dismissing him than if I just followed on through
with my plan.  Besides, I still wanted to show him that his actions had
consequences.  That he should know better than to mess with Sam.  Maybe,
though, if I played it just right, maybe I could make sure he left the room
not with the defeated posture and thin-lipped tremble he sported now but,
instead, with a little sand in his box o' self-esteem.  I could show him
with my flimflam that he'd affected me enough for me to take the time and
effort to fuck back with him, instead of just flicking him away like a
bothersome fly or, worse, ignoring him.

	Dammit, Damien, get out of my head!

	He blew a heavy sigh and took a step toward the door.  Before I
could second- and third-guess myself, I touched his sleeve.  "Hang on a
sec.  Please."  I figured he'd pull away, but no, he stopped and waited
while I gathered my thoughts.  "Listen, DJ, if you believe nothing else I
tell you, today or ever again, believe me now.  None of this, not that
night in the restaurant, not this afternoon on the sidewalk, not five
minutes ago with the rules, none of this ever has been about your looks.  I
didn't offer you a chance to get your dick sucked because I pitied you, or
because I thought it would be funny to get the ugly kid laid."

	He took a deep breath and finally, finally looked at me.  "Truth?"

	"Nothing but."

	"Then why the pillow on my face?"

	"Like I told you, so you can't watch."

	"Why can't I watch?"  His old belligerence coming back, I'm sorry
to report.

	"Because you can't."  I couldn't think of any obfuscations, so I
just laid it out there, along with the last of the rules.  "And you can't
touch, either.  No grabbing hair or forcing yourself deeper."  Sloppy Joey
didn't like that.  "Keep your hands above your head."

	 He waved away the no-touching bit like it didn't matter.  "You
won't be watching her suck me, will you?"

	That statement totted another point to my growing opinion that Ogre
was an exhibitionist in denial, but who was I to kink shame?  "I promise.
I won't be watching Wanda suck you."

	After a long minute, "Okay."

	"Okay?"

	He scrubbed his face with his ham-hocks, dropped the pack back to
the floor.  "Okay."  He paused.  "I don't care about the not touching, and
I'll use the pillow.  I don't have to watch.  Might be better that way, so
I don't, you know, too fast."  Tone uneasy and unhappy, as if admitting
weakness to an enemy.  "At least at first."

	See, that's what I was afraid of, that his curiosity would get the
better of him and he'd peek before that all-important first nut.  After he
came once (aren't I generous?) Ogre would know full well whose mouth held
his cock, and why.

	"Are we done now?" Ogre begged me.  "With these insane rules and,
and, and elaborate setup, are we done?  Can I just please my get blowjobs
now?"  Oh, the desperation in those words, that he tried to cover up with a
growl.  How like honey to my ears.

	"You may," I graciously conceded.  "So I'll leave you alone to get
ready."  I ignored his sarcastic sigh of relief.  "And remember, nekkid,
eyes covered, legs spread, arms above your head. Just holler when you're in
position, and I'll send the cocksucker on in."  He nodded.  "And DJ?  I'm
still going to call you Ogre."  He flinched.  "It's a compliment, in a
way."  He regarded me as if I were nuts.  "Own it, Ogre," I advised.  "Own
it."

	Stage 3, somehow complete.

	I slipped out into the hall and closed the door behind me.  Soon as
I heard the snick! of its tongue catch, I collapsed against the wall,
suddenly so overcome with adrenaline I might need to run a few laps around
Sloppy Joey to burn it all off.  The orc himself watched me from his own
position against the opposite wall, hints of impatience in his posture and
of annoyance in the twitch of his ridiculous man-bun, but he held a huge
sandwich in one hand and a liter-size soda in the other, so I figured he'd
be just peachy for a few minutes while I enjoyed my hard-earned
satisfaction.

	Yeah, I said it, satisfaction.  My plot steamed ahead as planned,
barring the occasional and quickly repaired hitch, and that made me glow;
I'm so freaking awesome!  Between that, the few tokes of weed I'd taken and
the adrenaline dump, I buzzed along like a tourist plane to bliss-ville.  I
almost forgot the whole point of this shenanigan (one of the points,
anyway) was to get my physical rocks off as well as my intellectual and
competitive ones.

	The amazing Sloppy Joey was kind enough to remind me of my full
priorities.  In the middle of raising the sandwich to his mouth he threw it
aside (to land mayo side down on the carpet . . . yuck) and crashed to his
knees in front of me, shaking the whole house.  The liter soda went flying
too, but I have no idea if any spilled; all my attention was on the hands
scrabbling at the placket of my khakis.  I tensed up, glancing at the
closed door to Joey's room and, by extension, the bumfuzzled ogre behind
it, but as Sloppy Joey snaked his fingers inside my boxers and curled them
around my flaccid cock (my attention had been on mind-fuckery, remember) I
figured Ogre to likely be stuck in his own head and would take his sweet
time setting up a clean spot and building the balls to strip nekkid.  True,
there was a chance that, left alone, Ogre might chicken out and cluck and
flutter between us on his way to the front door, but I figured that chance
negligible.  I had time to enjoy a brief break for fellatio.

	Joey fished out my dick (not whale-sized, more like dolphin –
did you think I was going to say minnow? – so therefore in no danger
from strangling zipper teeth) and it boinged from a soft two point five
inches to its fully erect five point eight in the time it took to slide
from Joey's sloppy lips to the back of his throat.  All the cocksucker's
frustration at being forced to wait to blow Ogre zeroed in on me, not that
I complained.  The wet heat of his mouth, the slow tide of his vacuum
breath, the slickery slip of his tongue caressing high to low on my
poignantly up-curved undershaft . . .

	. . . aaaahhhhh.

	I let my own mouth loll open, cast away the drool as good riddance,
watched Sloppy Joey work his magic.  He didn't care that a truculent ogre
wrestled with self-esteem and adolescent horniness behind the nearest
closed door, didn't care that his sister conversed with a new customer in
the kitchen down the hall, didn't even care that his own father sat covered
in dust and beer-farts in the living room.

	Sloppy Joey didn't care, and neither did I.  His blowjob felt
smooth and amazing.  Where Chad attacks a cock like throwing his mouth on a
grenade, with a startling eagerness and need to for it to explode, Sloppy
Joey sucks with the slow assurance of a demolitionist at the top of his
trade.  He may be a fat, orcish fucker (I think it's fair to speculate on
an oral fixation) but there's a serenity and professionalism to his vacuum
skills that any high-class whore might envy.  In style and rhythm his
method most resembles Mr Q's, but there's a pull, an undertow, to Joey's
suction, almost like a sexual black hole, that's a galaxy away from Mr Q;
with Joey, you feel that, if you aren't very, very careful, you'll lose
your ship inside and be twisted into eternity's fabric before you can jump
to hyperspace.

	"Okay, Sam, Wanda, I'm ready!"

	The call from inside Sloppy Joey's room could not have come at a
more welcome moment, as I'd somehow managed to spook myself; who says I
don't have an imagination?  I pushed Joey away (not without a certain
amount of disappointed sighs on both our parts) and stepped back, but I
didn't bother holstering my erection.  Putting my dolphin back into my
khaki's without destroying it on zipper teeth would be akin to trying to
squeeze toothpaste back into the tube.

	Mixed metaphor, I know.  Get over it, Damien!

	"Hey!  I said I'm ready!  Can we get this shit going please?  I got
to get home to supper soon!"

	Stage 4: Surprise Ogre during his first orgasm, then blackmail him
into sucking my dick.

	"That's our cue, Joey," I whispered, and he nodded, lapping spit
and a little dab of my pre-cum off a spindly mustache I'd never before
noticed.  I gave him his sucking orders ("don't let Ogre cum until I say")
and he nodded again, although he looked put out at my additional request
that he not take the first load in his mouth.  Then I eased open the
bedroom door, peered inside.

	In compliance with his orders, Ogre had stripped down (clothing
folded neatly atop his backpack), cleaned a spot on Sloppy Joey's bed, and
lay back, legs spread, on the edge of the mattress.  He'd covered his eyes
not with one of Joey's pillows (and who could blame him?) but, instead,
with the oversize football jersey (his dad's, betcha) he'd been wearing,
and which he'd folded in half and draped over his entire head.  I felt a
sudden irrational tug of dissatisfaction at that; I wondered what
expression his one-of-a-kind face wore while he waited for a phantom mouth
on his cock.  Shaking off my uncharacteristic fancy, I held the door for
Sloppy Joey, who tiptoed through with an eerie grace and total silence
despite his heft, and then I slipped inside after, my unzippered erection
bouncing ahead in merry anticipation.

	Contrary to his orders, Ogre had only one hand behind his head.
Apparently having not heard the sound of the door opening over the fuck
sounds from the still-playing porn or over his own excited panting, he'd
lowered his other hand to wank mercilessly on his lap-log, one in perfect
proportion to his stroking ham-hock and truly as large and magnificent as
advertised.  A good nine inches long, at least, maybe half that in
circumference, with a blunt circumcised head and lined with veins like a
primitive language left behind on stone, Ogre's penis was most certainly
his best feature.  The thing left me in awe.  Sloppy Joey felt the same.
Instead of pouncing, the orc froze in the middle of the floor, his gaze
locked on that monolith with a delight that lit up his moon-face and caused
his ridiculous man-bun to quiver like even his hair had a hard-on.

	I closed the door with a firm click, a sound that managed to
penetrate Ogre's lust-clogged ears.  With a muffled gasp he tore his
ham-hock from his champion rager and threw it above his head.
"Wuh-wuh-Wanda, is that you?  Were you watchin' me?  Are you, uh, are you
lookin' at me now?"  His furious erection, still quivering with both
excitement and from the exertions only recently ceased, burbled out a thick
stream of juice, and Ogre gasped and reached back down to wipe his
piss-slit clean.  He sucked the cum from his fingers (blowing my mind) then
threw his arm back above his head and waited, chest heaving, to be touched.

	As if he'd been waiting for that very signal, Sloppy Joey dropped
to his knees (again with that eerie, almost silent grace) and shuffled
around Ogre's large feet and right between his legs.  Ogre sensed a
presence there, and whimpered, and how he didn't realize the bulk belonged
to Joey instead of the more diminutive Wanda is something we'll never know.
Regardless, he spread his knees further apart and hunched up his erection
and opened and closed those ham-hock fists above his head, fists he once
used to threaten and which now only displayed his helpless, misinformed
arousal.  He'd positioned himself so his balls and the cheeks of his ass
lay on the very edge of the mattress, and Sloppy Joey, rather than go
directly Ogre's cock, surprised us all by bending further to lap at Ogre's
taint, like an appetizer before the entree.  Ogre jumped, and his hands
clutched at empty air as his legs widened and even raised a fraction of an
inch.  "What are you doing, Wanda, what are you doing and where, where are
you going now and oh oh OH!"

	Seems Sloppy Joey had taken Ogre's elevated thighs as an
invitation, and, putting his own meaty, not-very-Wanda-like hands under
Ogre's cheeks, lifted them up further from the mattress.  Joey's tongue
slathered at Ogre's taint, slipping further and further down, to Ogre's
aroused consternation (and yes, I meant that both ways).  Although he kept
babbling denials along the line of "hey, don't do that, don't put your
tongue there!" and "isn't that unsanitary?" he did nothing to stop the
invasion, merely thrashed his head back and forth under the jersey and
fisted and unfisted his ham-hocks behind his head.  If he really wanted to
stop the action all he had to do was drop the soles of his feet to the
floor instead of raising them higher into the air.  If he really felt that
disgusted all he need do was disobey instructions and reach down to push
the offending tongue away.  But he did neither.

	Make no mistake, I did not instruct Sloppy Joey to rim Ogre, but
seeing it send the big bonehead into such paroxysms of confused joy made me
all too happy to give my blessing.  Sometimes, as with Inbred Wanda
earlier, a timely ad lib is a flourish in the best direction.  Plus, the
lack of direct stimulation on the ogre's monolith ensured he didn't cum
until I was ready.

	Taking advantage of Ogre's distraction and the soft noise of the
still-playing porn, I slipped out of my clothes as quietly as possible,
although I probably could have climbed out of a suit of plate armor for all
the attention anyone paid me.  I pulled my phone from my pocket, and, after
placing my folded clothing on the relative safety of the computer chair,
called up the video app, moved myself into position behind Sloppy Joey,
aimed the camera at Ogre's heaving body.  Before I could hit the red icon
and start recording, however, something climbed up out of my recent memory
and paused my finger.

	Got any clue what?

	Yeah, that's right.  That short, shy glance Ogre had given me when
I pointed out how he might fix, or at least present to best advantage, his
unfortunate face.  That tiny glimpse of humanity in this lumbering,
graceless mass of pomposity and vulnerability, of arrogance and secret
shame, that tiny glimpse, as I say, pierced something in me.  Suddenly he
wasn't an obnoxious and fugly ogre with annoying tenacity and questionable
intelligence, he was Ogre, a gullible innocent with limited social skills
(read: none) and a teenage boy's lust for experience (read: yes, please).
Ogre, a young punk with daddy issues and self-esteem issues and issues with
his issues.  Again, Ogre, also known as DJ, and how much you want to bet
that that stood for D-something Junior?

	DJ, somebody's child, maybe somebody's sibling.

	DJ.  A human being, not an ogre.

	Ugh.

	I couldn't do it.  Contrary to that blasted disclaimer at the top
of this narrative, I'm a decent person.  Kinky, yes, and dominant,
indubitably so, but decent at heart.  Or at least I like to think I am.  So
despite standing right there over an unknowing Ogre, framing his blinded,
lust-stricken body in the eye of my phone, I couldn't force myself to
record, even if I did plan to delete the video no matter the outcome of
this situation.  Blackmail, suddenly, seemed distasteful.  A hollow
victory, if it could be called victory at all.

	And too easy, too.  I'd gotten this far in my scam with only my
wits and willing accomplices; somehow it felt cheap and lazy to shove Ogre
the last few stages by force and humiliation.  I made up my mind and tossed
the phone atop my folded clothing.  I'd accomplish the next stage of the
plan with intelligence, creativity, and my natural bloody-minded ability to
push until I get what I want.

	So.  Damien's imaginary (my own personal) challenge just doubled
down.  Gentlemen, place your bets!

	Stage 4, amended: Surprise Ogre during his first orgasm, then push
him into sucking my dick.

	Grabbing my stiffy and giving it a few superfluous but necessary
wanks (oh, how inadequate my hand after Sloppy Joey's vacuum!) I took in
the scene before me with satisfaction.  Both of Ogre's legs were high in
the air by now, his monstrous pecker laid flat against his upper belly,
spooge flowing liberally from its angry red head.  His hands opened and
closed, opened and closed above his thrashing skull.  He'd stopped
protesting, stopped talking at all, but his tortured breaths had sucked a
spit-darkened circle on the fabric of his dad's football jersey.  If a mere
rim-job turned him into this crazy exposed nerve, I couldn't wait to
witness him come apart.

	As I'd noticed when he approached me on the sidewalk, his build was
pudgy but solid.  Wide shoulders and long, thick arms.  Fleshy chest with
large brown nipples and a smattering of pimples.  The last of his
prepubescent baby-fat jiggled around his waist, not a lot, but enough to
pinch an inch or three.  A few whorls of hair the color of his sawdust
crew-cut swirled in his armpits and around the flats of his nipples, but a
line of brown curls the same shade as his uni-brow trailed under his
deep-set belly-button and flared into a jungle of pubes around the base of
his uncovered monolith, spread down his legs in a lush canopy of growth.
Smooth, normal-sized balls that looked tiny in comparison to his giant cock
huddled beneath it as if seeking shelter in the shade; under his taunt
scrotum, on his taint, more brown fur, now wet with saliva, led inexorably
to his tiny fringed asshole, currently under attack by an orc fanatic.
Thick, heavy thighs lined with tufts of brown hair and decorated with
goosebumps, fuckflowers in the jungle.  Tense, muscular calves and ankles,
then those clown's feet, clenching and unclenching like the hands above his
head.

	So much power in that body.  So much clumsy, graceless power,
restrained only by his own imagination and my own smooth, non-lying wits.
Standing there watching, wanking my much-smaller cock in my much-smaller
hands and feeling the jolts of much-more than sexual energy, I marveled at
the writhing submissive strength on display and thought, "I did that!"  Me,
a runt half the Ogre's size!

	Well, me and Sloppy Joey and (to an extent) Inbred Wanda, but I did
most of the work to get Ogre there.

	Might as well get this party started.  Since I didn't have to worry
about timing or focus or anything like that, Ogre was free to cum at will.
I nodded at Sloppy Joey, who nodded back, and abandoning Ogre's slick,
vulnerable asshole, Joey licked up Ogre's taint and onto his balls.  Ogre
gasped, sucking the wet spot on the football jersey so deep into his mouth
I expected him to choke, and dropped his trembling legs fast and hard
enough to shake the floor.  As I moved into position above Ogre's grasping
hands, Joey continued his tongue-bath up the shaft of Ogre's monolith.  He
paused at the top, long enough for me to hear Ogre whispering "please
please please" under the shirt, then Joey ovaled his lips around the crown
of Ogre's cock and sucked it inside.  Ogre gasped again.  "Oh oh oh oh
. . ."  Sloppy Joey kept going, taking more and more of that monster into
his gullet, more and more and unbelievably more, until his fat face was
buried in Ogre's dark brown pubes and his ridiculous man-bun quivered in
snide pride atop his orcish head.

	Ogre stopped breathing.  Joey didn't move, kept that lap log buried
deep in his throat.  Ogre resumed breathing, groaned from somewhere deep
down in his balls.  And came.

	Remembering my request, Sloppy Joey forced himself off that pulsing
rager, and the first spurt of Ogre's semen jetted out of his cock in a
long, continuous stream that only barely missed Joey's rounded chin.  At
the same moment I dropped down atop Ogre's helpless open fists (my kneecaps
fit perfectly, one in each of those huge palms) then ground my cock and
balls into his prickly sawdust-colored hair and ripped the jersey from his
gnarled, nut-stricken, upside-down face.

	"Hey Ogre!  Having fun yet?"

	"Urng!"  His brown eyes, cloudy with orgasm, pupils completely
blown, stared up at me with astonished dismay.  "Urng!  Urng!"  Ropes of
jizz drawn from his bouncing, jerking balls fountained from his throbbing
cock, painted thick stripes of white across his body.  "Urng! Urng!"  A
particularly strong stream arced over his chest and splattered against his
thin lower lip, and I don't think he realized it when he snaked his tongue
out and tasted the fluid.  "Urng!"  His orgasm rocked his entire body, made
it writhe and spasm, and the contortions of his pissed-off, blissed-out,
unforgettable face gave him a pugnacious glamour both savage and
spectacular.  "Urng!"

	Boy didn't lie.  Well, he did, with every other breath, but he
didn't lie about his testicular capacity.  He shot a large load, that's for
sure.  Joey watched the cum-geyser with a look of heartfelt regret,
glowered at me in annoyance for forcing him to miss such a treat.  When the
jets of semen began to dribble off into rivulets, I nodded to the orc, who,
rolling his eyes, opened his mouth and sucked that quivering monolith all
the way back down his throat, vacuuming up any stray cum-drops left behind.
Ogre gasped again at the sudden pressure on his post-orgasm sensitive cock,
but Sloppy Joey didn't let up.

	The whole time he wallowed in physical abandon, Ogre glared at my
adorable upside-down smile.  When he regained control of his quaking,
cum-streaked body he tried to yank his hands free of my kneecaps, and,
failing that, tried to roll away from the vacuum at his crotch.  Having
none of it, Joey grunted and threw his elbows over Ogre's thighs, using his
considerable bulk to hold Ogre in place.  Ogre took his eyes off me to
glance down, and astonishment and horror warred on his fugly face when he
took in the brother who sucked instead of the sister he thought he'd been
promised.  I'd expected panic to set in, or at least abject humiliation,
but no, just anger, lots of it, and rather than do the smart thing and yell
for help he fought us with every once of strength in that clumsy, graceless
body.  Deathly silent now, enraged that he'd spent his ecstasy on
counterfeit services, Ogre struggled and strove to pull his hands free, to
wriggle away from Joey's relentless mouth, but he failed to find the
leverage to throw us off.  Good thing, too; he wore murder and damnation in
his eyes like a pair of brand-new factory-reject contact lenses.

	I waited.

	Joey sucked.

	At last, tiring fast and coming hard to the realization that he was
in quite the pickle, Ogre settled down.  Ignoring Sloppy Joey as a
distraction best dealt with later (and possibly, just possibly, enjoying
the suction of that relentless mouth) Ogre returned his gaze to me.

	I waited.

	Joey sucked.

	It took Ogre a long time to figure out what to say, and when he did
speak, he said the wrong thing.

	"I don't know what y'all faggots – ow!  Hey!  Watch that shit!"
He glared down at Joey.

	Joey glared right back, his man-bun quivering in indignation on top
of his head.  "You watch your fucking language!"  And then, ovaling his
mouth, Sloppy Joey dropped back down on that slick, glimmering monolith.

	"Urng!  That fuckin' hurt, you got some sharp-ass fuckin' teeth!
Will you, oh, oh, will you please get off me?  And you!"  He switched his
gaze to me.  I'd lost my smile at his slur and now simply stared down at
him.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.  "What, you got something to say?"

	I did.  I had a few things to say.  But I could wait to say them
until I implemented the newest stage to my plan.  Instead, "I'm wondering
what the hell you think you're doing, behaving like this after such a
dramatic nut?"

	I'd never seen anyone's eyes actually bug out before.  "What I'm
doing?  What the hell I think I'm doing?"  He yanked on his hands some
more, wriggled his torso around on the bed.  All he succeeded in doing was
shoving his cock even further down Sloppy Joey's throat, not that either of
them seemed, deep down and down deep, to mind.  "Question is, what the FUCK
do you think you're doing?"

	I cocked my head at him.  "Why, getting your dick sucked, like I
told you I would."

	His eyes keep that up, they're going to explode.  "No you're not!"

	I raised my eyebrow.

	"Well, okay, you did get my dick sucked, but you're not supposed to
be watching!  And that's supposed to be Wanda down there, too!  You lied to
me!"

	I savored them greedily, those words which I'd longed to hear since
setting out on my mission.  "I never lied to you."

	"What?  Fucking WHAT?  You told me Wanda would suck me off, not,
not, not SLOPPY JOEY!  OW!  Watch the teeth!"  Told you Joey didn't like to
be called the S-word.

	"I believe our amazing friend Joey asked you, very nicely in my
opinion, to not be so obnoxious in your tone and language.  And please
quiet down.  Would you like Wanda or the guy she's probably fucking in the
kitchen to come in and see you like this?"

	Utter disbelief on his priceless face, Ogre stared up at me,
glanced down at Joey, back up at me.  I waited.  Joey sucked.  Finally,
after a long, grudging minute, Ogre said, very distinctly, "I'm sorry,
Joey, I apologize."

	Joey nodded, and Ogre hissed through his teeth at the sensation.

	"Are you happy now, Sam?"

	"Not really."

	"Yeah?  Well guess what, me neither."

	I affected surprise.  "You're not happy?  Looks like your cock
hasn't gone down for a split second.  Hey Joey, has Ogre here lost even one
drop of blood in his hard-on since he nutted?"

	Sloppy Joey shook his head, and Ogre hissed again, rolled his hips
up into the black hole.

	"Looks like you're enjoying Joey's mouth well enough.  Doesn't that
make you happy?"

	"Yes!  No!  I mean, yes, I mean, it would make me happy if it was
Wanda's mouth, not, uh, not, not another guy's!"

	"Wanda gives terrible head, from what I've heard.  Trust me, you're
better off with the amazing Joey here."

	"He may be amazing, but he's still another guy!"  Like I failed to
comprehend the distinction.

	"Bah, you're just being picky."  I huffed and rolled my rager
against the top of his head.  Now, don't get me wrong, I have a slight
(okay, not-so-slight) masochistic bent, but the prickly tickle against my
undershaft left me less than enthused.  Still, never one try something only
once, I hunched in again.

	Meh.

	I caught Ogre's eye, realized that he'd realized that, based on my
head's current upside-down position over him and my hands planted on the
mattress to either side, something other than opportunity knocked at his
scalp.

	"Sam," he said, eyes wide in disbelief, "Sam, is that your . . . on
my . . . "

	"Lemme check."  I hunched in again; I do, after all, have a certain
image to maintain.  "You know, I think it is."

	Ogre blinked, blinked again.  "Dreaming," he muttered.  "Only
explanation.  I'm dreaming.  Or magic boy slipped me a moldy date-rape
drug."

	Irritated at the suggestion that Sloppy Joey and I were raping him
(although we kind of were) I shifted my weight and, bending over his face –

	"Ow, fuck, Sam, you're killing my hands!"

	– I tea-bagged my considerable balls into his surprised eyes and
smacked my cock sharply on his confounded lips, leaving a drop of
excitement behind.  When I came up off his face he watched my pecker bounce
away, confused, irritated, and oddly fascinated.

	"Awake now?" I asked, saying nothing about the date-rape comment,
although that had been the reason I dick-slapped him.  "Or still dreaming?"

  	No answer.  He touched out a tongue and lapped at the souvenir I'd
left on the corner of his mouth, but, again, I don't think he realized it.
He seemed to have resigned himself to the situation, but a dangerous
tension bracketed his thin lips and wrinkled his flat nose.  And he watched
me, his eyes tracking my face, his chin inclining as he followed my
movements.  Pretending to be unaware of his scrutiny, I busied myself
reaching for a pillow, sliding it between my knobby knees and his
bound-to-be cramping hands.  He didn't even try to escape, not that he
could have made it far with Joey's bulk trapping the lower half of his
body.

	After I resettled my weight on Ogre's now pillow-buffered hands, I
looked back down at him.  Smiled.

	To my surprise, he smiled back, but it was cold, and failed to
beautify his unique face.  "You got to let me up from here sometime, magic
boy."  Sweat poured freely from his body, diluting the streaks of cum that
still decorated his chest and abdomen.  "You can't keep me here forever."
He grunted and fluttered his eyelids as Sloppy Joey did something to
dispute that claim.  "You can't," he insisted.

	"You're right, we can't," I agreed.  I checked the digital clock on
Joey's bedside table.  "But I don't especially have to be home for almost
an hour.  And I bet you don't either."

	He furrowed his brow and groaned, confirming my guess.  "You do
know, though, don't you, that when I do get up and even if I'm late for
supper, your ass is mine, Sam.  MINE."

	I glanced from his face to his monolith and back to his face.
"With that thing?  I don't think so."  I spoke lightly, deliberately
misunderstanding Ogre, but I knew without a shred of doubt that if I
couldn't pull this off and make him happy doing it, I'd be looking over my
shoulder for the rest of my life, and it wouldn't be his penis I worried
about.  Continuing with my misinterpretation, I simpered, "You'd tear my
poor little twat in twain."  The twat in question clenched, but it might
have been in interest.  No.  No way.  "In twain," I insisted.

	Ogre sighed, but not in surrender, not yet.  Still, Joey bobbed on
his cock, and still, that monolith stood straight and tall and glistening
with saliva, and, though he fought it, Ogre began to hunch up into Joey's
mouth.

	We did only have about thirty to forty minutes to play, though.
Time to move things along and get back to the conversation featuring the
pernicious awesomeness that is Sam.  I rubbed my ballsack against Ogre's
scalp (that, now, that did feel interesting) and prompted, "We were talking
about something else though, weren't we?  Before you were rude to the
amazing Joey here."

	"Huh?"  Ogre scrunched his face into his thinking expression, or at
least I assumed that's what it meant, as I'd never seen him wear it before.
Let's give him the benefit of the doubt, though, on his efforts; it takes a
helluva lot of concentration to think logically when you've a hoover
attached to your crotch.  "Oh yeah, I remember."  He blinked away some of
the lust building in his eyes and glared up at me.  "You lied to me!"

	Those words, combined with the prickle/tickle on my shaven balls,
almost sent me over the edge, thus aborting a need for the final stages of
my plot.  Heroically, I controlled myself.  "I never lied to you."

	The flex of his fingers under the pillow counted off.  "You said
Wanda gave great head and that you were coming oh, oh, over here so she
could blow you.  You said you could, uh, yeah, oh, you could talk her into
blowing me too."  He paused, eyes rolling back in his head before he
regained vocal capacity.  In a rush, "You got Wanda in here half-naked and
got her to agree to do it and you said that you wouldn't freakin' watch!"
He paused again, then, in a voice miles removed from sexual concerns, said,
"And you said you weren't doing it to make fun of the ugly kid."

	I stroked my balls against his crew-cut, wanting to purr at the
tiny stabs and scratches and, as unconsciously as he'd licked away his own
semen (and mine) earlier, he rubbed his head against me, enjoying the
massage.  "Let's take those in order, shall we?"

	"Yes, let's.  Oh, oh fuck, this shit is torture."  Ogre didn't
sound particularly distressed, at the physical carnage anyway.  "Yeah,
let's hear you explain how you didn't lie when you, oh fuck, oh fuck, when
you LIED WITH EVERY FREAKING BREATH."

	I enjoyed the frisson his sarcastic emphasis gave me and began.
"When did I say Wanda gave great head?"

	He fought to think.  "You said, you said, oh fuck, you said she
could suck the chrome off a plastic hubcap!  Aaaaah," he added as Sloppy
Joey giggled around his cock.

	I wrinkled my nose and frowned down at Ogre.  "You think that would
feel good?  Ow."

	"Well, you said you were coming over here to, oh fuck, fuck, to get
sucked anyway.  Fuck."

	"Yes, I did, but when did I say I wanted it from Wanda?"

	Again with the fighting, the thinking.  "You said you were coming
over to her . . . fuck fuck fuck . . ." (at himself, more than the blowjob,
probably) ". . . to their house."  Fresh perspiration oozed from his pores.
"Not to her house, but to their house.  Dammit."

	Before the sweat diluted the splatters of jizz even further, I
leaned forward, hunching against Ogre's scalp, and scooped some up.
Apparently ticklish, Ogre squirmed at the touch.  "To their house," I
agreed.  "To Wanda and Joey's house."  Grinding even harder against those
tiny prickles, rubbing my stiffy against Ogre's uni-brow, I wiped Ogre's
cum against the undershaft of his cock and watched Joey slurp it up.
Sloppy Joey shot me two raised thumbs from the hands hanging over Ogre's
thighs.  He disdains using them in his oral performances, and trust me,
you'll never feel the lack.  Swiping another spurt and enjoying Ogre's
shudder, I continued, "And you were standing right there when I asked Joey
to blow you."  Unable to resist, I mocked, "Did you not understand me?"

	Ogre frowned at my sarcasm, watched me feed Joey his cum with
hooded, hungry eyes, but he permitted no distractions from his accusations.
"What about when you got Wanda in here?  You asked her point-blank if she'd
do me.  Dammit, Joey, it's hard to think when you do that!"

	Man-bun preening on his orcish head, Joey snorted in
acknowledgment, causing Ogre to gasp again.

	Another hunch, another finger of cum.  This time, instead of
feeding to Joey, I slurped it off my own finger.  Cold and gelid, but worth
it to watch Ogre's eyes roll back in his head.  When he came back around, I
said, "Ogre?  Buddy?  Inbred Wanda will do anybody."  Yup, anybody, dear
reader, including you.

	Joey nodded, affirming my statement.  Ogre gurgled, glared.
"That's . . . that's . . . oh fuck . . . cheating!"

	I shrugged, hunched, dragged my stiffy through his crew-cut again,
enjoying it more this time; he twisted his head against my scrotum and
shaft, but if he felt the precum bubble out of my slit and coat his
bristles, he said nothing about it.  "You're the one called me a rules
lawyer.  Speaking of which . . ."

	He groaned.  "You said you wouldn't watch Wanda suck me."

	"I said I wouldn't watch Wanda suck you," I agreed.  More cum, but
none for Joey or me.  Instead I straightened back up and rubbed the jizz
around Ogre's thin-lipped mouth.  He widened his eyes but didn't jerk away,
just let me do it.  This time, when he lapped it up, he knew full well what
he did, and he did it with his trademark look of defiance on his face.
Enjoying the expression, I continued, "But that's not Wanda between your
legs, is it?"

	Sloppy Joey shook his head.  "No, it's not Wanda," Ogre admitted
when he could speak again.  His already blood-infused cheeks shot up to a
more intense shade of crimson.  "But when you explained why we couldn't do
it in her room --"

	Ha.  Good catch.  I'd forgotten that one.  "I didn't explain
anything.  You explained it to yourself.  Hell, I even told you I was
fucking with you, remember?"

	"Oh fuck.  Fuckity-fuck-fuck.  When I asked about what I thought
were Wanda's rules."

	"You didn't even realize I never answered you, huh?"

	"Okay, I get it, I'm an idiot."  Ogre groaned, rolled his hips up
into Joey's mouth despite the weight on his thighs.  "Rub it in, why don't
you?"

	Hunch.  "That's what I'm doing now, isn't it?"

	"But what about making fun of the ugly kid?" he burst out.  "You
can't deny you're making fun of me now!"  His ham-hocks clenched under the
pillow, as if he were trying to roll them into fists.  The anguish in his
entire body dominated, for a moment, the sexual currents running through
him.  "I trusted you, Sam, and you bullshitted me into this bizarre
situation that'll probably cost my dad thousands in therapy.  You ready to
laugh at me now?  Go on, it's funny, isn't it?  The gay kids tricking the
ugly straight kid into sex?  I think it's abso-fucking-lutely hysterical!"

	Oh, great, NOW here comes the panic.  "Number one, Ogre," I said,
sharpening my tone in an effort to cut through it, "number one I'm not gay.
Joey might be --" the orc shrugged; he just liked to suck dick "-- but I'm
not.  I'm heteroflexible."

	"Heteroflexible."  I think if he hadn't been on the verge of tears
and/or orgasm, Ogre might have laughed.

	I hunched, he rubbed.  "Heteroflexible," I affirmed.  "And number
two," here I paused to lean over and tongue up a few splotches of the
remaining cum on his torso, an action designed to reinforce my next words,
"number two, like I told you before, none of this has ever been about your
looks."  I leaned further down, dragging my stiffy across his forehead and
cheek, and no, he didn't jerk his head away.  His uni-brow furrowed and
tickled at my shaft, sweat pored down his face, and he giggled and moaned
at all the differing sensations on his body.  He did not jerk his head
away.  I rose back off his face, leaving a trail of spooge behind, and he
watched my rager retreat over the ridge of his brow.  When I'd disappeared
he remembered the cum I'd left behind, and he crossed his eyes trying to
spot the dribbles on his face.  "If we were making fun of you, would we be
trying to make you feel this good?"  Always eager to be helpful, I stroked
up the jizz and fed it to him, drop by drop.

	Ogre lapped it down, a trembling baby animal taking milk from a
dangerous stranger.  His body had surrendered to us, to Sloppy Joey's mouth
and my own siren's tongue, but his mind, poor fellow, his mind struggled to
make sense of it all.  "But, but, oh, ooooh, fuck, you're still only doing
it because you feel sorry for me."

	The last of his arguments about how this sort of thing would never,
could never happen to a guy like him, a homely ogre with an overbearing dad
and a chip on his shoulder the size of a monolith.  The last, yes, and
possibly the hardest of them all to counter.

	"Joey, come up off him for a minute," I ordered, wanting Ogre's
full and undivided attention for this next bit.  Sloppy Joey grunted but
complied, and Ogre whimpered in disappointment at the loss of that wet
heat, although he quickly caught himself and shot me an admittedly
half-hearted glare.  Underneath knees and covering pillow, his hands
clenched and unclenched, reminding me that I needed to hurry this along
before I completely cut off his circulation and we were forced to amputate.
"Ogre, this little situation right here, you know, the having sex
situation?  For the absolute last time, it's not about your looks, not
about pity.  Never has been."  Ogre gasped, and his monolith twitched and
oozed; bored with conversation, Joey had moved in on Ogre's hairless balls,
showing, in his own sloppy way, that he couldn't care less about Ogre's
stellar mug.  I chose not to intervene.  The activity kept the orc occupied
and Ogre worked up without clouding his comprehension too much.  Hopefully.
"I gotta admit I pitied how easily you fell into my scam, but me tricking
you into sex was never because I felt sorry for you.  If I felt that, or
even if I'd just wanted to make fun of you, I'd have handed you off to
Wanda and been on my merry way."

	His ogre-brown eyes (yes, they were pretty) searched out my own
black ones, as if trying to see around my spectacles.  "Truth?"

	Sigh.  Why was this so hard for him to comprehend?  "Nothing but."

	"Then why?" Ogre wailed.  "Why are you doing this to meeeee?"
Bleating it.  For the first time all afternoon, Ogre's habitual defiance
and control truly broke.  "Make me understand, Sam!"

	I hesitated before I answered, wanting to get this just right.
Only Ogre's tortured breaths and Sloppy Joey's slow, deliberate laps around
Ogre's scrotum broke the silence; the porn nobody had ever paid attention
to, except Ogre in the beginning, had switched off, returning the
television to blue screen once again.

	"At first, Ogre, it was because you pissed me off, and I wanted to
show you the error of your ways."

	"Wuh-wuh, what?"

	"You heard me.  You pissed me off."

	"You mean all this," and he rolled his head (the only truly mobile
part of his body) around on the bed to indicate "all this", "is because I
made you mad?"

	I said it a third time.  "You pissed me off, Ogre.  You couldn't
accept that you'd been beaten, neither that night nor right then.  All I
wanted was to get some head before doing my homework, and you wouldn't even
let me do that.  You were like an annoying Great Dane puppy nipping at my
khakis."  Ogre flinched like a beaten Great Dane puppy and, remembering
that I was supposed to be making him feel better and not worse, I threw him
a bone.  "I've got to admit that, as much as it annoyed me, your
stubbornness impressed me too."

	"Really?"  Again, that glimpse of humanity that had so undone me
before.

	"Yeah, really.  So much so I knew it'd take some pretty creative
thinking to shut you up.  And since I was horny anyway, I decided to take
care of two problems at once.  Getting a nut, and --" I paused, willing him
to finish the sentence for himself.

	Bless his heart, Ogre did, although he phrased it differently that
I would.  "And showing the fugly ogre not to fuck with Sam."

	"And showing Ogre not to fuck with Sam," I agreed, and his
blinking, grateful eyes showed that he noticed my edit.

	"Well," Ogre allowed, rubbing the top of his head into my crotch,
"you showed me, Sam.  Happy?"

	Oh yeah.  Those words made me almost happy enough to jump to the
most anticipated stage of my plan (spoiler alert: to give him his second
orgasm and then spooge all over his interesting face) but luckily I came to
my senses.  "Mostly," I answered him.  "But it was only at first I felt
that way.  Then, I don't know, it changed."

	"It changed.  How did it change?  When?"  Sounding like he dreaded
all the answers.  No one would do this to him, for him, unless they
ultimately intended to betray him, right?

	"I'm not sure," I replied.  "A little when you got so upset because
I wanted you to cover your eyes.  You get why I wanted you do that now,
don't you?"

	"So I wouldn't see who was really down there," he muttered.  "Stop
rubbing it in, I get it."

	"So, yeah, it changed a little bit then, in that I wanted to do it
without hurting you, if I could."

	Ogre snorted.

	"Well, I had good intentions, okay?  But when it really changed, I
think, was when I came in here and saw you laying there on the bed,
spanking like mad and waiting for your blowjob."

	"Bet I looked ridiculous, huh."  Flat statement, not even a
question.

	Time to bring back the positive reinforcement.  Nodding to Joey,
"No, not at all ridiculous.  You looked tense, and horny, and hot."  Joey
slipped his mouth back onto Ogre's rager, and both of them sighed at the
re-acquaintance.  "In your clothes you look a little pudgy, but nekkid?
You're big and powerful, as ready to fuck as to fight."  He moaned at my
words, at Sloppy Joey's tongue caressing his monolith.  I leaned forward
again, using my fingers to slide my stiffy down his forehead and across his
brow and cheeks again, leaving pecker-tracks in my wake.  "Vital, and raw,
and contained only by the need sweating out of your body.  When I saw you
like that, laying there ready to be serviced, deserving of it, I couldn't
help but think how sexy you were, and then everything was less about
revenge and victory and more about wanting to see you come apart."

	"Really?"  Eating my words whole, savoring them and swallowing them
down, like the jizz I stroked up and wiped on his thin lips.

	"Really.  Tell you what, Ogre, I may only be heteroflexible, but
even I can see that someday you'll be come into your own.  You may never be
conventionally handsome, but with your hair grown out and a full beard,
your face cleared up and a few hours spent in the gym, the girls will be
all over you.  Guys, too, if you want them or even if you don't.
Especially once word gets out about that monolith you barely keep hidden in
your pants.  You'll be beating them off with it."

	Brown eyes watching me.  Wanting to believe me.  Needing to.

	"You could be in porn, Ogre my man."  He convulsed on the bed,
writhed under Sloppy Joey's ministrations and my praise.  "That big dick,
that powerful body, rutting on camera for anybody and everybody to see.
Straight porn, gay, bi, whatever, you could star in anything you wanted."
Yes, I was laying it on a bit thick, I know that, but I meant everything I
said.  And Ogre ate it up, especially the part about making porn; told you
he was a closet exhibitionist.  If I'd gone ahead and filmed him getting
off, I'd have had no need for blackmail, because Ogre would whore himself
out just for a copy.  I leaned forward, hunched against his scalp, reached
down to tweak his nipples, to tickle their rubbery hardness and tease the
strands of sawdust colored hair surrounding them.  "Imagine it, the whole
world wanting you, watching you cum."

	"Ooooohhhh oh oh oh fuck."  Underneath the pillow, his hands
clenching and unclenching.

	"So no matter how I got you here, or why I wanted it, I'm glad
you're here now.  Are you?"

	His body gave me my answer, but his mouth only said, "So okay, Sam,
okay, you got me here.  You tricked me and I fell for it, you got to watch
me come apart, are we done?  Can you let me up now, let me go home?"  Fear
in his voice, not fear that I wouldn't let him up, but fear that I would.
"Please?"  So close to surrender.  So close.

	"Not quite yet, Ogre," I answered softly, tweaking his nipples, and
he moaned.  "I believe I promised you something else, and I'd hate to be
known as a welsher.  Or, worse, as a liar."

	His thin lips widened in relief, knowing better.  "Two nuts.  You
promised me two nuts."  He fucked up into Sloppy Joey's mouth as if ready
to grab that second orgasm now.

	I nodded.  "Two nuts."

	"And then you'll let me go home?"

	I hunched.  Tweaked.  He moaned, writhed.  "Well, there's the
matter of my own orgasm.  I did originally plan to get my dick sucked too,
after all."

	Ogre frowned, even as he rolled his hips into the black hole.
"When I'm done, Sam, when I'm done I'm sure Joey will do you too.  Won't
you, Joey?"

	Joey nodded, and Ogre groaned.

	I smiled and winked at him.  "Ah, but it's not Joey I want to blow
me.  Not this time."  Sloppy Joey stopped mid-suck, halfway down Ogre's
shaft, and the both of them glared at me in reproach.  "Not this time," I
reiterated, "although you do an amazing job, Joey, and I'm sure I'll be
over all the time in future to enjoy your exceptional talents."  Mollified,
the orc resumed his duties.  While I waited for Ogre's expressive eyes to
roll back around to the front of his head, I hunched and tweaked and
relished the view of his sweaty, pudgy body all a-tremble with sexual
tension and the desire to cum.  Well on his way to coming apart again.
"No," I continued when Ogre refocused on me, "I had someone else in mind."

	Now that he was wise to my bullshit, Ogre caught on immediately,
and his vocal face reset itself back into that stubbornness that so annoyed
and gratified me.  "Nuh-uh.  Not happening.  I'm not gay, or
heteroflexible, I'm, you know, straight."

	Interesting.  He stared at my dick every time I waved it around in
his field of view, he rubbed the top of his head against it, didn't flinch
away when I pushed it down his face, even lapped up drops of my precum, but
actually taking me into his mouth would be the action that made him gay, or
heteroflexible, you know, not straight.  As the British say (and isn't it a
gorgeous phrase?), "there's naught so queer as folk".

	In case I hadn't gotten his message, he glared at me and repeated,
"Not.  Happening."

	Remembering what happened after the last time he said those words,
I merely nodded and said, "Okay, Ogre."  He appeared suspicious at my easy
capitulation (he was learning, wasn't he?) and, yes, it may seem
uncharacteristic, but my gut told me the time had come to put away both
stick and carrot and let him plow the last few yards on his own.  Changing
the subject completely, I asked him, "If I get off your hands, Ogre, will
you behave and not go berserk on us?"

	He swallowed, and I thought I saw a gleam of defiance in his eye,
but it disappeared when Sloppy Joey did something with his tongue that made
Ogre's whole body shiver.  "I, I'll be good," he vowed.

	Huh.  Intriguing choice of words.  Ogre here kept surprising me
with his reactions.  Somehow I held back the words "good ogre" and, keeping
an eye on him in case he reneged on his promise, eased off the pillow to
kneel beside him on the bed.  Moving slowly, he stuffed the pillow under
his head then stretched his arms out wide, flexing his ham-hocks, shaking
the numbness out.  Then, keeping his eyes on me, he laid back them back
above his head again.  Noticing the way my gaze traveled up and down his
sweaty torso, from the quiver of his meaty pecs to the tremble of his belly
to the gleaming, saliva-streaked, now-you-see-it-now-you-don't monolith
being worshiped by an orc fanatic, he stretched and writhed in a languid
and blatant play to my attention.

	"So hot, Ogre," I murmured.  "So big and powerful and fucking hot.
Getting that huge dick sucked, throbbing like you're gonna blow cum all
over us."  I resumed tweaking on his nipples, to his unfeigned joy.  "You
deserve it, Ogre, you deserve a mouth on that sexy body every day."  Yeah,
I'm not much of a dirty talker, in general, but Ogre drank in my filthy
praise, rutting into Sloppy Joey's throat in rhythm to the compliments,
such strong thrusts that they threatened to topple heavy orcish elbows from
over his thighs.  Ogre got off on the words, and I discovered, to my
surprise, that I got off on getting him off.  I kept mumbling to him until
I ran out things to say, but that didn't matter, because I found something
better to do with my tongue.

	When I licked under his arm he gasped and giggled and tried to roll
away and towards me at the same time.  A faint trace of deodorant remained
around the roots of his straggly pit hair, but the slick, dry taste was
overpowered by the tang of Ogre's fresher sweat.  When I took his right
nipple between my lips and tweaked the other with my fingers, he unraveled
and came off his back, slamming back down so hard the wooden bed creaked
and the cardboard covering the support planks screamed in protest; this,
from a frame that regularly held Sloppy Joey's dead weight.

	Joey shifted his balance but, apart from a couple of sharp grunts
– "hold still!" – didn't miss a beat in his vacuum job.  Ogre
shivered at the sensation of a mouth on his dick and another mouth licking
back and forth between his nipples, sucking on one while fingers tweaked
the other.  In a move so slow I completely missed it, Ogre's arm drifted
down, his ham-hock hand slid under my kneeling body, and cautiously,
carefully, he curled his fingers around my balls, cradled them like
precious eggs in his palm.

	"Holy moly, Sam, the size of these things!" he marveled, rolling
them around and sending warm pulses of almost-pain and total pleasure
through my lower abdomen.  I gurgled around his nip.  "You know, your
ginormous nuts explain so much about you."

	Yeah, like I've never heard that before.  I growled and nipped at
his nipple with my teeth, and he grunted, not sure if he liked that or not.
To give another fair sample, I moved to the other nipple and bit it too.
He grunted again, still unsure.  Figuring that a good point to segue off
his chest, I tongued my way down his torso, slurping up sweat and salt and
any stray dabs of cum still left lying around.  At the same time, I
stretched out beside him, my lower legs hanging off the mattress beside his
head and remaining hand, my crotch angling closer towards his face.  He
kept his grip on my balls the whole time, fumbling them in his fingers the
way he'd done his dice the first night I paid attention to him, and he let
go only when the steadily increasing pressure on the bend in his arm forced
him.  No worries, though, he just slipped that ham-hock back behind his
head and brought the other around to take its place.  My cock waved like a
big pink flag in his face, but he ignored it, only kept cradling my balls
and, when I stabbed my tongue into the deep recesses of his belly-button,
he squeezed them tight enough that I was the one to come off the bed this
time, squealing at the pressure and drooling all down his wrist.

	When I could breathe again I left his bellybutton behind and
followed the happy trail down until it disappeared into the jungle of his
pubes.  Ogre sucked in a breath and giggled at my tickling tongue and
rolled his hips under us.  Sloppy Joey saw me dropping down to pay my
respects, and he obligingly came up off the shaft so the two of us might
share.  We tongued it high to low, this monolith, we traced the veins of
primitive language and licked at the precum that dripped like hints for
translation from the weeping piss-slit atop.

	A pressure on my nut-sack, pulling me closer to Ogre's face, closer
still.  My stiffy danced around his cheekbones, leaving spooge behind to
mark its passage.  More pressure on my scrote, Ogre using it to pull my
cock-head down to the level of his thin lips.  His tongue meandered out,
lapped at the precum dripping from my own piss-slit, tasted and tested the
juice, found the flavor satisfactory.

	And slowly, so slowly, like a heavy city-gate being lifted at the
end of a siege, Ogre spread his lips.  Then, still without touching me with
his fingers, he drew half of my invader flesh into his own conquered mouth.
He'd considered the diplomacy of my words and my praise, and, whether
because of curiosity or reciprocity (does it really matter?), he
surrendered.  Without blackmail, without force, Ogre sucked my dick.

	Not well, mind you.  Due to our positioning, perhaps (certainly not
due to my negligible size – I'm still growing, remember?), he failed to
take more than half my shaft in his mouth, and the half he did take he
sucked on much too hard.  He'd figured out to shield his teeth, but the
pressure of his suction was such I could feel their outline under the flesh
of his thin lips.  Although he showed no reluctance for his task, he showed
no enthusiasm for it either.  If anything, he might have been pursuing a
scientific experiment to confirm something he already suspected.  But he
tried, bless his heart, he tried, and between that and the squeezing cup of
his fingers around my balls, I enjoyed every second of his attentions.

	Stage 4, complete.

	Still, I reminded myself, the clock was ticking, so I paused in
licking Ogre's monolith to glance up.  Fifteen minutes, maybe, until my
phone started dinging.  So maybe thirty until I was forced to answer.
Returning my attention to cock, I traced my tongue up on the head, lapped
at and dug into the piss-slit.  Opened my mouth, wide as ever I could.
Huh.  Due entirely to his size, I couldn't fit more than the first couple
inches inside, not without scraping, damaging that flawless marble skin.
Below me, from where he tickled the spot at which Ogre's shaft joined his
scrotum, Sloppy Joey snorted at my failure, causing Ogre to writhe and
squeeze almost too hard on my balls.  I uncrossed my eyes and winked at
Joey, acknowledging his superiority in cocksucking skills. Of course, we
all know about me and challenges, so despite not having the chops to take
not even half of Ogre's monolith, I lavished what I could take with the
best of my technique and flourishes, leaving Sloppy Joey to love on the
rest, to lick at the bottom of the shaft and to lap at the hairless balls
underneath, balls which contracted and expanded in their scrotal sack at
the touch.  I couldn't but notice that every time Sloppy Joey's mouth and
tongue dropped anywhere close to his taint Ogre attempted to lift and
spread his thighs, despite the orc's heavy weight draped there.  Between
that and the annoyed, disparaging-of-my-technique glares that Sloppy Joey
kept throwing my way, I intuited the moment had arrived to move along my
grand design.

	Originally, as spoiled above, I'd planned to give Ogre his second
nut and then paint his interesting face with my spooge as the next stage.
I had, after all, only been craving a blowjob that day.  And at that
particular moment, with Ogre's mouth clamped around my cock and his tongue
swirling all over my head and shaft, it still seemed a viable strategy.
But remember a few minutes ago, when Ogre called Sloppy Joey and me that
nasty f-word?  As soon as that fugly slur came out of his mouth, I kicked
the facial down a notch and added a new stage.  One designed to showcase to
Ogre the truth about faggots.

	Stage 5 (new): Fuck Ogre.  No, seriously, fuck him.  Up his flat
ass.

	I came up off the monolith, rubbing my jaws, and Sloppy Joey
slurped his way to the top and swallowed the whole thing.  Show-off.  With
a mix of relief and regret I freed my stiffy from Ogre's mouth, and he let
go with more of the first and less of the latter, although he did lick the
spooge from his lips and hold on to my balls until I pulled too far away,
then he laid that ham-hock, gently, back above his head.  We savored each
other a few minutes, Ogre and I, him getting his dick sucked and me wanking
on mine, and I wondered if my eyes were as pupil-blown and lust-hungry as
his, if the need scrawled on his expression twinned the want scrawled on
mine, and if the thoughts behind our faces were as inscrutable between us.

	"Hey Joey," I said when I could talk again, though I didn't look
away from Ogre.  "Change places with me, huh?"

	"What are you up to, Sam?" Ogre questioned suspiciously.  "Where
you going now?"  As if he didn't want me to go away.  Or, more
specifically, as if he didn't trust me out of his sight.

	Tough.

	"Oh, I just want a little taste of what the amazing Joey sampled
earlier."

	"I don't like that," Ogre announced, but I ignored him, jumped up
off the bed, making way for the orc to take my spot.  Somehow Sloppy Joey
maneuvered his bulky body over and around Ogre's thighs to plop up on the
bed and lay his cheek against Ogre's belly, all without letting go of the
monolith.  As soon as Joey cleared his weight away, Ogre raised his legs,
stretched them out, wiggled his huge feet in the air; he did not, as I'd
half expected, take the sudden freedom as an excuse to roll away and make a
bid for escape.  As I slid in between his knees, he spread them out again
and even hunched up, driving his cock deeper into Joey's mouth from this
new angle and exposing his furry taint (wet from the orc fanatic's sloppy
dripping drool) and the tiny, pinkish, down-fringed recess in the crack of
his flat ass.

	"I don't like that," Ogre said again, fisting and unfisting his
ham-hocks above his head as I blew a puff of air at the spit-soaked fur of
his perineum.  Raising his knees higher and spreading them wider, he
insisted, "I don't like that, Sam!"  I put my small palms against his thick
upper thighs, gave him a little push to get his snapping hole closer to my
tongue.  One of his legs bumped against the immovable object of Sloppy
Joey's head, but I kept pushing the other until Ogre was twisted into an
angle and the furry crack of his ass was spread open for my delight and
edification.  A fragrant, earthy aroma, not shitty but musky-clean, rose to
meet me, and my mouth watered.  "I said I don't like that!"  But as my
tongue touched his taint and then swirled down to lap at his hairy hole, he
added a phrase to his litany.  "Oh, oh, feels so good, but I don't like
that!"

	I licked a thick, wet line up his crack, knelt up on my knees,
gazed at him across the quivering tip of Sloppy Joey's ridiculous man-bun.
"Tough."

	Fisting.  Unfisting.  Fisting.  No other reply.  Satisfied, I sank
back to a crouch, arrowed the tip of my tongue, and penetrated his hole as
deeply as I could push.  "Oh!  OH!  Fuck!"  Wriggling my tongue, painting
it around the lips of his asshole, digging digging digging.  Tasting the
musk, inhaling it.  Getting this tiny indention ready for fingers.  For
cock.

	"Feels . . . oh oh oh . . . don't like it but feels . . . oh oh oh
. . ."

	The distressed creak of the bed's wooden frame and support slats.
The squelching of Sloppy Joey's mouth sliding up and down the monolith.
The tortured babble of dismayed need dripping from Ogre's lips.  The
crinkling rustle of my chin skimming through the forest of crack-fur.  The
wet slurp of my tongue eating out Ogre's virgin hole.

	And:

	The clench of that hole quivering and pulsing and slowly giving way
beneath my mouth's continued caress.  The softness of butt-hair on my
cheeks and taint-hair on my nose.  The humid wash of Ogre's scrotum fogging
up the lenses of my spectacles.  The steamed-over vision of goosebumps,
fuckflowers, budding and fading in the undergrowth of furry thighs and
ass-cheeks.  The electric sizzle of greed and desire and want rippling from
my wanking hand all the way through my body.

	And:

	The musk, the sweat, the arousal that poured off all three of us,
that drowned us in pheromone colors.

	And:

	And nothing.  Nothing and no one but me and Ogre and Sloppy Joey
and this circus of obscenity we'd somehow flashed into life around us.

	I slid a finger in beside my tongue, traveling as far the first
knuckle before Ogre's sphincter clenched around me in protest.

	"Sam . . . don't do that . . . oh fuck . . . I don't . . . fuck
. . . I don't like it . . ."

	Ignoring him, I slid it in further, to the second knuckle.
Nibbling, sucking at the lips of his hole as the adit gave under my
plunging finger.

	No words, just a strangled groan.  He tried to drop his legs and
force me out, but I caught his thigh and pushed it back up.  Then he tried
to roll away, with no more success than the first time he attempted it, as
Sloppy Joey reacted the same way he'd reacted then, by throwing a meaty arm
over Ogre's heaving abdomen.  Soon as he was pinned Ogre settled down,
though token objections still dribbled from his lips as I drilled all the
way inside.

	". . . don't like this stop it Sam I really don't like this . . .
WHAT THE --"

	I twisted my finger around his tight channel, knuckling his
prostate again and sending him into a paroxysm of confused bliss.

	"Oh!  Oh!  Oh oh OH!  Sam it feels weird feels like I gotta crap
but somehow good but I don't like it!"

	Having reached a point in the penetration that my tongue proved
superfluous down there, I came back up on my knees to use it in a more
needful area.  "That's your prostate, Ogre, and it's big, just like the
rest of you."

	"It's, it's, oh god, Sam, it's, I don't know but --" His heavy,
hooded eyes watched me over Sloppy Joey's head.  He winced with each stroke
of my fuck-finger, and his legs trembled, one under my palm and the other
brushing against Joey's ridiculous man-bun.  But he kept his hands above
his head, as he'd promised way back when discussing the rules, as he'd done
the entire time except for the few minutes he cradled my balls, and as I've
told you so often I'm sick in the telling.  So if you're picturing this in
your imagination, keep that one detail always in your sketch.  He kept his
hands above his head until I absolutely needed him to move them, and I'll
fill you in on that at the appropriate moment.  "I think I gotta crap."

	"You don't have to crap," I assured him, keeping my gaze steady on
his face even as my free hand pushed up under Sloppy Joey's mattress.
"Your body just doesn't know how to interpret that feeling yet."  Ah, just
there!  Teenage boys are so predictable.  "Relax, Ogre, think about that
vacuum on your cock, the sparks when I brush your prostate."  I poured a
thin stream of Sloppy Joey's jerk-gel onto my finger and Ogre's
mildly-stretched hole, and he blew out a strangled hiss and twitched his
flat rump at the chill but he didn't try to roll away.  "Breathe, Ogre,
it'll get better.  Have I steered you wrong yet?"

	Correctly recognizing my question as rhetorical, or at least not
worth debating, Ogre broke the circuit between us by closing his eyes and
concentrating on sensation rather than discomfort.  Watching him writhe
under Sloppy Joey's mouth and my own fingerbang touch, watching him roll
his head back and forth and somehow miss tickling his nose on the man-bun
Joey thrust into the area with every upward stroke, watching Ogre claw
steadily and surely towards his promised second come-apart, and knowing my
own wiles had brought him here?  Seeing him withstand the discomfort of my
invasion of his nether regions pretty much just because I'd asked him to?
That warmed me as sweetly as Joey's wet heat when he'd first sucked me in
the hallway.  More sweetly, truth be known.  For the first time I
understood the dangers of megalomania.

	After a few strokes of my finger against his prostate he relaxed
some, enough for me to slide a second digit alongside the first.  He
twitched, and hissed at the burn, but he said nothing, just clenched and
unclenched his hole (ha!) around my fuck.  When the stress-lines on his
unique face eased, I slowed my thrusts and pulled my fingers free.  Time
for something else to penetrate that tight heat.

	"Hey Joey, take five, `kay?"

	My sloppy orc friend nodded and, after a last full-swallow and a
twitch from his man-bun at Ogre's strangled gasp, came up off the monolith,
leaving it to quiver and flinch in all its shiny, spit-washed glory.
Breathing hard, his moon-face glistening with sweat and exertion, Joey
removed his arm from across Ogre's middle and sat up on his knees, watched
me lube myself up.  Ogre huffed at the chill on his shiny monolith but made
no move to roll away, just resettled onto his back from where I'd pushed
him awry and watched me warily as I pulled a pillow from the bed, slid it
under my knees to give me better height, and lined my cock up with his
asshole.

	He realized my intention, and tensed, twitched as if to jerk away,
but Sloppy Joey laid one gentle hand upon Ogre's belly, and he stilled.
"No no no, Sam, don't do this . . ."  Head rolling back and forth, slowly,
his needful brown eyes staring at me.  Body trembling.  Trembling.

	"I'm going to fuck you," I said in a firm, clear voice.  He
whimpered.  Remembering an old whores' trick I'd read about once (on Nifty,
where else?  Remember to donate!), I taunted, "Squeeze that hole, Ogre.
Clamp down tight.  See if you can keep me out."

	He closed his eyes and furrowed in uni-brow and tensed his whole
body.  Forced his sphincter, only moments ago open enough for two fingers,
into a tight little button.  When I rubbed my cockhead against it, he
grunted with effort and clenched down harder.  Holding, holding, trying to
hold.  Sloppy Joey leaned over to watch, eyes eager and rounded at the
spectacle.

	His opening tried to hold, tried to hold, slipped, began to fail
. . .

	. . . and gave, widened around the pressure of my weeping cockhead
as I slid inside, bragging.  Ogre hissed, and grunted, and thrashed,
scratching and clawing at the blanket we lay on.  Further in I slid, past
the mushroom ring of my head, past the upward curve, sinking deeper and
deeper into this gripping, throbbing, protesting tunnel.  Ogre caught his
breath, but he didn't scream, he didn't wail, he didn't fight, he just laid
there and whined way at the back of his throat, and only when my bone was
buried so far inside him that my shaven crotch pressed against his flat
ass, only then did he speak, and only one word, at that.

	"Sam . . ."

	A strangled sigh, my name on his thin lips.  He didn't like what
I'd done, I could tell by the wince of his brown eyes, but he gave in to
me, and endured.  For a minute I forgot my intentions, simply reveled in
the grip of Ogre's plundered velvet vise.  I'd only ever fucked one person
in the ass before, and that felt amazing, but this felt beyond that.  I
took the first because it was owed; I took this one because it was earned.
The difference stunned me.

	He spoke again, interrupting my reverie.  "Sam?"  His tone
tormented this time.  He needed me to move.

	I did so, sliding back and forth and inch at a time, gently
rounding out his grip.  He moaned under me, and Sloppy Joey moaned too,
watching us.  The orc's meaty hand, the one not pretending to hold Ogre
down, rubbed at the crotch of his red sweats.  The sight thrilled me, as
I'd never seen Joey so worked up before, and knowing that I'd (indirectly)
brought him to such a state only sweetened my ego's continued bliss.

	Remembering my time constraints, I hastened back to my script.
"This is what faggots do, isn't it, Ogre?"

	He groaned, both at my words and my insistent, increasingly active
penetration.

	"Faggots get fucked in the ass, right?  So that makes them weak."

	"Come on, Sam," he pleaded, although neither of us knew exactly for
what.  "Come on."

	I winked at Joey, and he nodded, wiped the orc-sweat from his face,
and bent back over Ogre's belly.  Licked at the monolith's dripping head.
Ogre groaned as if on the verge of orgasm but I took his ordinary nuts in
my hand and squeezed like he'd squeezed mine earlier.  He writhed under the
pressure but didn't cum when Sloppy Joey sucked half his shaft into that
hot mouth.

	"Burns, Sam, it burns . . ."  Choosing to say nothing about his
aborted nut or my own hand, ha ha, in preventing it.  "Stabbing into me,
burning."

	"But somebody weak couldn't do this, could they?  You're not weak,
are you, Ogre?"

	"Not weak," he growled, narrowing his eyes at me.  "Not weak."

	"No, you're not weak," I soothed.  By now I was sliding back and
forth almost the full length of my Sam-sized prick.  Ogre's grip had eased
some, enough to make my ride smoother, but it still rippled around my
shaft, milked it, sucked it in until my ginormous balls bounced against his
flat ass cheeks.  "It takes strength to endure a cock in your ass, and
you're strong, Ogre.  You're ogre-strong, aren't you?"

	"Strong," he agreed, loosening up another sliver.  "And big," he
boasted.

	"And big," I agreed.  "You're not a faggot, are you?  That's why I
wanted to fuck you, Ogre.  To teach you about faggots."

	"Not a faggot," he insisted.  And, without prompting, he grunted
out, "And you're not a faggot either, Sam.  You're not and neither is Joey.
I'm sorry I said that."

	Easy enough to apologize, I reckon, when you're being
punish-fucked, but he meant the words, admitted fault and remorse from more
than mere chagrin and a desire to make the penis go away.  He understood my
point.

	"So can you stop now, Sam, please, can you pull it out?"

	"In a minute, Ogre, in a minute."

	Huff.  And a gasp at something Sloppy Joey did with his tongue.

	"I wanted to show you something else too."

	"What, Sam, what else did you want to show me, can you hurry up
please?"

	I grabbed a fistful of man-bun, knowing Joey didn't like that but
not caring, pulled the orc as far down Ogre's shaft as was possible to
swallow, given our positioning, while at the same time I changed my
fuck-angle and ground my cock against Ogre's prostate.

	"Ah, ah, ah, Sam, ah . . ."

	"That feels good, doesn't it, Ogre?"

	"Feels, ah, ah, I'm full, so full, it hurts but when you hit that
spot feels good feels good but I don't like it Sam I don't."  His balls
throbbed in my clutch.

	Continuing my aggressive assault on Ogre's joy-buzzer and letting
go Sloppy Joey's (now straggly) man-bun before he killed me, I glanced up
at the clock.  The first text from Mom would likely ding my phone any
minute now.  Time to move on.

	Stage 5 complete.

	Stage 6 (deferred): Give Ogre his promised second nut, then spooge
all over his interesting face.

	I increased my rut speed, watched my cock pinion in and out of
Ogre's reluctant tunnel.  "You should see this, Ogre," I announced.  "Your
hole open, ass-lips clutching at my shiny cock.  Wish I'd filmed this, I
do."

	He whimpered, head thrashing back and forth.

	"That be something you'd like to see, Ogre?  Your own butt being
plundered like this?"

	"No, no," he grunted, but he didn't sound very sure to me.  "Sam,
it's . . . you . . ."

	"You're damn right it's me," I told him, and he groaned.  I ground
in against him, rotated my cock against his fluttering prostate.  His wide,
thin-lipped mouth flew open in a silent protest and his nuts pulsed in my
grip.  "It's me, Sam, pounding in and out of you, and it's Joey slurping on
your huge dick, and we're going to make you cum, aren't we?"

	"Don't want to, Sam, don't want to, don't!"  His body quaking, his
fleshy chest and belly rippling from the force of my thrusts.  From the
force of his own unwelcome hunger.

	I kicked my fuck up another gear.  My own orgasm simmered way down
deep in my balls, ready to spurt out and spray Ogre's steadily darkening
complexion.  "Don't want to come, Ogre?  That's a little extreme, don't you
think?"

	"Not like this, Sam, don't want to cum like this, but you hitting
that spot and Joey sucking and drooling all over me I can't stop it Sam I
can't stop it!"

	Bed screeching.  Ogre babbling.  Me fucking.  Sloppy Joey bobbing,
bobbing, bobbing, taking only half because that's all he could reach.  I
stretched out my free hand and wrapped it around the base of that monolith.
Thick, so thick my fingers barely closed around it.  I wondered . . .

	But no.

	NO.

	"I don't want you to stop it," I told Ogre, piercing him with a
gaze so pointed it stopped the thrashing of his head and aimed his brown
eyes at my face.  So much need swimming around in them, so much need and
confusion and something else, very far back, that might have been
incredulous determination.  My ginormous balls tightened in their sack, and
I let go my grip on his own ordinary sized ones, to his sighed relief.  "I
want you to let it go, let Joey suck your nut right out of you."

	"When Sam when?" he begged.  "When, this is killing me when do you
want me to --"

	Ding!

	"Now!" I ordered him, my voice sharp, and he nodded, and furrowed
his uni-brow, and wrinkled his flat nose, and panted and whimpered through
his thin-lipped mouth, and the beauty in his unmaking spilled from his
expressive face like his cock spilled spooge in Sloppy Joey's suctioning
mouth.  He howled at the sensation, not loud but quiet and haunted and a
howl all the same, and his tight tunnel clenched and milked my cock with
the force of his nut.  The base of his monolith pulsed in my fist like it
would pulse inside me if I were to allow it, and I wondered how that would
feel, and that thought pushed me over the top too, over the top and under
the bottom and out the fucking sides.  I yanked myself free of Ogre, both
of us whimpering at the sudden loss of flesh, and, squeezing my own
testicles in a desperate attempt to stave off the shooting, I scrambled to
my feet and lunged to clear Sloppy Joey's bobbing man-bun, but –

	No no no no no no no!

	– Sloppy Joey reached out one meaty hand, clamped it to my
narrow ass, and pulled me down until my straining stiffy slid against
Ogre's jerking monolith, then the cock-blocking Sloppy Joey yanked me up
it, so our two slick shafts strained against each other, bounced and ground
and jousted together.  The orgasm I'd tried to keep at bay long enough to
get to Ogre's interesting face roared up inside me, refusing to be
contained any longer, and the first stream of jizz boiled up from my balls
and bubbled through my cock and rocketed from my slit just as Joey opened
his mouth impossibly further and sucked me in alongside Ogre, pressing us
together as we shot our loads into the seductive black hole of Joey's
throat.  Ogre's blunt cockhead throbbed against my own, I felt each jolt of
his ecstasy splashing and mixing with mine.  So good, so strong, like
lightning, or thunder, the kind that precedes a storm and raise the hairs
on your arms and legs with ozonic premonitions.  But wrong.  Because –

	Dammit!  I really wanted to paint his face.

	Stage 6, incomplete.

	But as I lay there, shivering against him in the warmth of Joey's
mouth, feeling the thickness of his shaft as it spilled the last of his
second nut, I wondered again how it would feel inside me.  I glanced at my
phone.  It had only dinged once, probably Mom telling me to get home soon
for supper.  I had a few minutes before it dinged again.  I hoped.

	Risks assessed, decision made, I resolved to try again.

	Stage 6, reset and revised: Give Ogre a third nut, then spooge all
over his interesting face.

	When my orgasm slunk away, shamed at the loss of self-control, I
pulled myself from Sloppy Joey's black hole, wincing at the sensory
overload of my skin sliding all over Ogre's, and he groaned right along
with me.  Joey let us both go at once, sat up on the bed, his man-bun shot
to hell and a large wet spot darkening the front of his red sweatpants, his
full orcish face so smug and sated I hadn't the heart to scold him for
sabotaging my artistic endeavors.  I slid backwards, dropped my trembling
legs to the floor.  Ogre didn't move, just lay there, panting heavy,
satiated breaths, brown eyes regarding me with an emotion I couldn't
identify.

	"Are we done, Sam?" he asked softly, still not moving.  "We all got
our nuts, is this over?"  Sounding like he wasn't sure if he wanted it to
be over or not.

	"Not yet, Ogre," I said grimly, and he closed his eyes, groaned,
but didn't deny me.  I searched out the bottle of lube, picked it up,
poured an ungodly amount in my hand.  Sloppy Joey's jaw dropped as he
caught on, and Ogre's eyes flew open as I grasped that monolith in my
greasy grasp.  He'd started to soften but as I gripped and stroked him with
the gel it perked right back up.  "Today's your lucky day, Ogre my friend."

	"Yuh, yeah?"

	"Yeah," I breathed.  "I know I only promised you two nuts, but what
if we make it three?"

	He winced, said, "I don't know, Sam, we both have to be home soon,
remember?"

	Very soon, yes, I knew that, I remembered.

	But dammit, I meant to do this!  Needed to!  My cock, still hard
despite the orgasm, throbbed and cheered my defiance.

	"It'll have to be fast," I advised him grimly, still stroking.
Though Ogre had voiced a doubt regarding a third orgasm, his cock appeared
intrigued by the idea, and pulsed, rock-hard again, in my grip.  "How fast
can you cum, Ogre?"

	He sneered, and I wanted to cheer at the return of his more
accustomed facial expressions.  "From a handjob?  Not very."

	I let go his rager, and it twitched at me, showed no signs of
softening.  "I'm not talking about a handjob."  Raising my legs over his, I
climbed atop him, placed a knee on either side of his abdomen.

	Ogre's eyes widened, and Sloppy Joey put a meaty hand back at his
own crotch.

	"How fast?" I demanded.

	He swallowed, staring at me with those wide brown eyes, making me
shiver with the force of his attention.  "Like, like that?  Fast, I think."

	"Good."  I poured half the remaining gel in the bottle into my
hand, leaned forward, reached around to pry my narrow ass cheeks apart,
jammed a finger against my not-quite-sure hole.  Steeled myself.  Shoved it
inside, far as I could reach.  I hissed at the burn, winced as a nail
scraped tender skin.

	"Sam, if just your finger hurts you that much," Ogre began, but I
shook my head at him, and he quieted.  Still looked doubtful, though.

	Not happy with the intrusion, my hole clenched as I added another
digit.  I don't have time for this, I thought yet again that day.
Scissoring then yanking out my fingers, grunting at the jagged slide, I
grabbed him and settled that huge cockhead at my sphincter.

	"Sam, I'm too big, we don't have to --"

	"We do," I corrected him.  "I do."  Then, holding my gaze steady on
his brown eyes, I clenched my jaw and pushed down hard, bore down hard,
straining as if I were constipated.  Tears leaked from my eyes at the
pressure as I ground my hole against the monolith, pushed it against my
adit, willed it to slip inside.  Just as I began to despair of ever being
breached, the genius Sloppy Joey reached over and grabbed both my nipples
in his meaty hands, grabbed them and yanked them and pinched them and
twisted them as if trying to rip them from my chest.  I blew out a tortured
half-scream and –

	"Sam!"

	– while my nerves were still preoccupied with the searing pain
from my chest I forced my hips down, I pushed my hole down onto the blunt
top of his cock like a too-small hat, and somehow, someway, my sphincter
gave, and the entire head popped in at once, ripping my attention from my
stinging nipples back down to the invader trying to split me apart.

	"Sam, don't, don't . . ."  His concerned eyes holding mine.

	I gritted my teeth, forced myself backward, forced more and more of
that monolith inside me, trying to concentrate on Joey's fingers still on
my nips and Ogre's gorgeous and beseeching brown eyes still on mine because
if I thought about the skin of my hole spreading splitting ripping I'd
stop, I'd climb up off Ogre's cock because I couldn't take it, but if I
couldn't take it I was weak, I was a faggot, and I'm not a faggot even
though I may be heteroflexible so I slid more and more and more of that
monster thing inside, splitting me in two, in twain, tearing my twat in
twain, pressing up into my intestines, my poor sloshing bladder, and the
heavy thick weight of it on my prostate spat fire throughout me, liquid
fire that said yes, yes, come on, keep going, it'll be worth it, I swear!

	And then, at last, at long last, I had the whole thing stuffed up
inside me, Ogre's copious brown curls tickling my rump, and I worried that
if his prick throbbed just once I'd split from head to hole.  The pain, ah
fuck! the agony of Ogre's monolith crammed up there!  I may have mentioned
my masochistic tendencies, but this threatened to overwhelm them
completely.  I moaned, a high-pitched warble that promised to get louder
and louder until I caught myself and bit it back.  I'm pretty sure nobody
from the front of the house would have bothered to investigate (nobody had
come as yet, anyway, and we hadn't been exactly quiet) but I didn't want to
risk it.  And I didn't want to scare Ogre any more than I had already,
either.  He'd never once let go my gaze, though his unique face twitched
and convulsed with the clutching pleasure my sheath gave his weapon.  He
never let go my gaze, and that gave me the strength to finish what I'd
started.

	"Sam, if this is hurting you then please please --"

	I interrupted his concern.  "How fast?" I demanded.  I pushed
Sloppy Joey's fingers from my throbbing nipples as no longer necessary and
by now downright irritating, but I winked at him to soften the action, and
he nodded as if he understood.  I ground down harder on that monolith
inside me and demanded again, "How fast, Ogre!"

	"Very, uh, very fast," he panted.  "Oh fuck Sam, so tight, so hot,
you're squeezing me with every breath you take!"

	I leaned back, pushing my rump as far down into his crotch as I
could, and my own rager, undaunted by all the discomfort, throbbed in the
air, weeping copiously all over Ogre's hairy lower belly.  Sloppy Joey's
face lit up, and he moved as if to dive on me, but I held him off.  "No,
Joey, please, you put that vacuum on me it'll all be over."  Besides, I
needed him out of the way for my next attempt at face-painting.  At his
hurt expression, I suggested, "Go around and suck Ogre's balls, or see if I
left any cum in his hole."  Sloppy Joey brightened again and bounced off
the bed and shuffled around behind us.

	"So nasty," Ogre said, admiration and lust in his tone.  "So
nasty."

	"Yeah, nasty," I agreed, then gasped as Ogre suddenly babbled and
shoved his cock around inside me, prompting a new blaze of fire and pain.
I felt his thighs rubbing against mine and the tickle of a man-bun tip
against my tailbone and figured out that, as suggested, Sloppy Joey had
settled between Ogre's spread legs and attacked his hole again, triggering
that mad thrust.  When I could talk without yelping, I continued, "Only,
only nasty if you, if you do it right, though."

	Ogre's breath quickened, and he writhed on the bed underneath me,
as if the sensational music Joey and I produced inside his body forced him
to dance to the rhythms.  "Getting close, Sam," he warned.

	Ding!

	"Can you, can you give me five strokes, Ogre?  It's the most we got
time for."

	He set his face in determination, even as his eyes rolled back in
his head, he set his thin lips into a line and nodded.

	Wincing, I pulled myself up off his trembling monolith, the tip of
Sloppy Joey's ridiculous man-bun tracing across my narrow ass-cheeks as his
tongue followed me up that thick shaft.  Ogre groaned, eyelids fluttering,
uni-brow furrowing.  When I reached the top, I hesitated, then, holding my
breath, dropped back down, shoving the monster thing back up into my
punched-out guts, grinding it against my prostate so liquid fire melted
through me and spilled from me as precum.

	"Wuh, one," Ogre breathed.

	"One," I agreed, wriggling around on the impalement.  The pain had
begun to recede some, not much maybe, but enough to stop overshadowing the
pleasure.  The pleasure, yeah, and the pride that shimmered through me at
my accomplishment.

	I pushed myself up again, breathing in short, panting gasps,
locking eyes once and forever again with Ogre.  I could see the orgasm
building on his perfectly imperfect face, but he held it off.  Held it off,
just for me.  When I reached the top again I paused, but before I could
summon the nerve to plunge back down he pumped up into me, hard, gasping
something about Joey's tongue in his ass.

	"Two!"

	Raising myself, this time reaching out to grab my rage-strained
erection, to squeeze it and caress it as I slid back down, stretch and burn
and squeeze and stroke, all these tendrils from different fires feeding the
blaze and sneaking new lines between my flesh and my skin.

	"Th-th-three."

	I came up almost all the way off the monolith the next stroke, so
far that I could feel my gaping ass-lips closing over his head, pushing him
out.  Back down, hard, fast, Ogre rising off the bed to meet me halfway, to
grind into me and rotate his cock inside me.  Full, so full, no room left
for air or identity, only his monolith and my ego.  I felt the pressure of
him in my belly, in my throat, coming out my ears, but also and mostly in
my own stiffy, thrums of electricity hastening me towards the truly
apocalyptic nut that roiled, restless, in my belly.

	"Four, oh!"

	Savoring it, the slide of Ogre's flesh pressing against me, the
primitive language of veins at last translated by the gripping walls of my
most intimate skin.  Sweating now, both of us, all three of us, the
sex-infused humidity binding us all to the last few seconds of stolen
bliss.

	"Five!"

	"Do it Ogre do it now!"

	"Now now now it's cumming I'm cumming oh god Sam!"  Grinding into
me, his face open and wondering and striking like fire.  "About to shoot,
Sam, gonna fill you up!  Urng!"

	"Me too, gonna cum too," the tortured massage on my captive
prostate pushing me higher, high enough that even the pain of invasion, the
heavy, full, reaming pain of a monolith inside my ass, even that pain
becoming pleasure.  Time to move, I thought, tried to think, time to paint
–

	And as if in answer to my muddy wishes, the greedy Sloppy Joey
planted his hands on my backside and, eager to get the cum boiling up from
Ogre's balls, pushed me up and off Ogre's monolith with such force I only
felt the first spurt of Ogre's spunk – "Urng!"  – splashing my gaped
hole before I hurtled into the air, soaring and tumbling and unable to slow
my roll even as jizz began to surge up out my balls.  No, no, no, gonna
miss, gonna fly over him and off the bed, no, no, gotta paint, gotta paint
–

	Ogre's hands, which he'd kept behind his head all this time,
throughout both the ass-fucking I'd given him and the one he'd given me,
yes, those hands, those ham-hocks raised with grace and assurance and
caught me as I flew over his head, they clamped down tight on my hips,
arresting my headlong flight to land me, crotch first, against the strength
of his cheekbone.  "Urng!"  Somehow I managed to hook my flailing hands on
the edge of the bed and catch my balance before I poked his eye out, and
then I was cumming, shooting, that first spurt splattering up his flat nose
and across his uni-brow.  I tightened my grip on the mattress, hunched
against Ogre's flesh, more cum bubbling out to streak his cheek.  He
tightened one hand on my flank and loosed the other to grab onto my cock,
the first time he'd laid fingers on it.  Grasping it firmly, still grunting
with the force of his own orgasm down Sloppy Joey's throat, he directed my
aim so I spooged all over his strong face, on his lips and no-chin and
cheeks and nose and uni-brow and that long stretch of five-head, and he
rubbed my cum into his skin with my dick and then, finally, began to drag
it through the spurts, to scoop them up and deposit them into his wide,
cooing mouth.  Just about the time I thought I'd given him all I had to
give, Sloppy Joey climbed up Ogre's torso and, seeking any stray drops of
semen that monolith may have left behind, rammed his tongue into my
stretched, wrecked hole, stuffing with such force and passion that more
drops of my own jizz dribbled in panic from my cock and into Ogre's
suckling mouth.  Then, at last, he let me go, and with my legs trembling
and my body quaking and my motor control unable to decide which way to
fall, I collapsed atop Ogre, slid down his sweaty, fleshy torso, shivering
at the wet friction on my traumatized stiffy-no-longer.  As I passed his
mottled, exhausted face, our sated gazes caught and held until I noticed a
spurt of my semen he'd somehow missed on the side of his nose.  Without
thinking about it I lapped it up and then, holding my tongue out, paused
over his panting mouth, which no longer stank of peanut butter and cheap
soda but instead reeked of Sam.  After a beat he opened his lips and
extended his own tongue and touched it to mine, taking what I'd retrieved
for him.  Then, closing my eyes against the questions in his, I slid
further down his body, slicked by the sweat between us and unable to stop
until I felt man-bun tickling my taint and heard the annoyed snort of an
orc still sniffing out spunk in the playground.  I smiled and dropped my
head onto Ogre's shoulder, and he tensed and then relaxed and I think one
ham-hock stroked me, lightly, at the base of my spine.

	Stage 6, finally, gloriously, complete.

	A few seconds passed; seconds, decades, who's counting?  I don't
know how long I lay there, insensible, atop Ogre's sturdy build, but when I
came to and realized my location I panicked and pushed myself up to
standing so fast my head swam with the mother of all head rushes.  "I'm," I
started to say but suddenly –

	Suddenly I'm on the floor, all twisted up in pretzel logic and
dirty laundry, staring up in bemusement at two Ogres and two Sloppy Joeys,
both of them propped on their elbows on the edge of the bed and staring
back down at me in concern.  Two?  And two?  What the –

	Oh, right.  I straightened my spectacles and the twin Ogres and
Sloppy Joeys merged back into their normal number of selves.  Whew.

	"Sam?  Are you okay?"

	I shook my head, straightened my body, pushed myself up on one
elbow.  "What the hell?"

	Ogre breathed a sigh of relief.  "You stood up too fast and toppled
over before I could catch you."  He squinted an ogre-glare to the two
ham-hocks in question, flexed them in vexation.

	That's cool, I didn't say, you caught me when I needed you to.
Instead, "Sorry if I scared you."

	"I thought you'd broken your neck."

	I blew out a shaky laugh.  "Might have been worth it.  That was
some seriously amazing sex."

	Yeah, that's right, blame the sex for your shakiness and your
attempt to become airborne.  Again.

	Coward.

	"I know, right?"  Ogre groaned, rolled back over on his back,
scrubbed his face with his hands, rolled over onto his belly again.
"Seriously amazing."

	Sloppy Joey snorted, and, popping up to his knees, pointed two
meaty thumbs at the wet spread that darkened the crotch his red sweats,
then held up two fingers in a v-for-victory sign.

	"Twice, huh?"  He nodded vigorously, almost dislodging himself off
the mattress.  "Yeah, Joey, me too."  He shot me two thumbs up, one for
each of us, then crawled off the bed and, grabbing a new set of sweats from
a pile on the edge of the computer desk, departed the room, his bedraggled
man-bun limping along above.

	Leaving me alone with Ogre.

	He didn't say anything, and I didn't either, but after a sec he
braced one elbow on the bed and extended his other arm out to me.  I
grasped it and pulled myself up, slowly this time, and sat down, very
gingerly, on the mattress beside him.  I didn't thank him for helping me
rise.  Rude, I know.  But I didn't want to break the silence between us,
not yet.  He didn't either, it appeared, and we sat quiet like that until I
figured out how to ask what I wanted to ask.

	"Seriously amazing, huh?"  Probing, trying to ascertain his state
of mind.

	But, "Yeah," was all he gave me.

	Growing bolder, "So how are you feeling now?"  In all my planning,
somehow I'd not considered the potential for heteroflexible remorse or,
ogre-deity forbid, violent reprisals.

	"Don't worry, I'm not gonna freak out in a homophobic panic or
anything."  Ogre scrubbed his face with his ham-hocks again and blew a
rubbery sigh through his wide, thin lips, then answered the question.
"Tired.  Sore.  Good.  Maybe a little mad."

	"What are you mad about?"  I figured I knew, but he surprised me.

	"Mostly at my own idiocy," he admitted.  "My dad's always going on
about how if something sounds too good to be true it probably is."

	"He's also probably always going on about how the little head
shouldn't rule the big one."

	Ogre snorted.  "I see you've met the man."

	"I just know the type."

	He angled to face me.  "I'm mad at you a little bit, too."

	I squared my shoulders, faced him head on.  "What if I apologized?"

	A sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh erupted out.  "Would
you mean it?"

	I shrugged.

	"I figured."  He paused.  "After I got over my shock, I liked most
of it.  Joey has an amazing mouth, and you don't do too bad yourself."

	"Gee thanks."

	"Hey, I'm a lot to handle, it's okay."  And there was that
arrogance, but the embarrassment had faded.  About time.  "I didn't even
mind, you know, sucking you.  Didn't really like it, but I'd always
wondered and thought, what the hell."  Then another ogre-glare, at me this
time.  "But you fucked me in the ass, Sam.  Fucked me even thought I asked
you, told you, not to do it."

	Despite the anger on his magnificent face, I said, "I can't
apologize for that either."  He blew out a not-very-surprised huff.  "Made
you cum, at least.  And pretty hard, too."

	"That's why I didn't like it," he shot back.  "I never thought
there was a such a thing as bad good orgasm."  At my snicker, "You know
what I mean."

	I know what I thought, and you probably know too.  What's the line
from Shakespeare?  Methinks the ogre doth protest too much?  For once in my
life I decided to let something juicy go.  Instead, "I am sorry I couldn't
make it easier for you, if that helps."

	He thought about it.  "Not really, no."

	"Then why did you let me?  You could have stopped me, you know.  If
you'd really resisted I wouldn't have done it."  I hoped.

	"I know."  He brooded.  "That's why, I think.  That, and . . ."

	"And?"

	Drawing in a deep breath, he admitted, "That, and because you
wanted me too.  That's pretty much why I did everything, Sam.  Because you
wanted me to."

	I let one thing go, I refused to make it two.  "You ate cum, Ogre,
your own and then mine, way before you ever gave in."

	Oh, the warmth of that ogre-glare, before it cooled, softened.  "I
always taste my own," he muttered.  "Wanted to see if yours tasted any
different.  It didn't, not really," he hastened to add.  "But I still
probably wouldn't have done it if you hadn't pushed.  And there at the end,
I knew you wanted to cum all over my face and that you'd enjoy seeing me
swallow it.  Not like I could read your mind or anything, I just knew."

	"And so you made sure I got what I wanted."

	"You won, Sam," he said simply.  "You beat me at a game I didn't
even know I was playing, but you still deserved your prize.  I gave it up
to you."

	The words sent a thrill through me, not an electric sizzle this
time, more of a steady and spreading warm glow.  "Yeah," I agreed.  "I won.
But that doesn't mean you lost."

	"No, I suppose it doesn't."  Another long pause.  "I really liked
fucking you.  I never thought anything could be that tight."

	More of that warm glow, tempered this time with a throbbing ache
from my abused hole.  "I don't think I'm tight anymore."

	Ogre glanced up at me, his brow furrowed in amusement, and
snickered.  "I don't think I am either."

	And suddenly, though it wasn't really funny, we found it
hysterical, both of us bursting into roars of laughter, and I was amazed at
the transformation hilarity gave his usually dour face.  When we sobered,
he shook his head.  "I can't believe this whole conversation.  Why am I not
dying of embarrassment?"

	I shrugged.  "My tongue's been in your ass, Ogre.  Shame would be
kind of pointless now, right?"

	"Hah.  I guess so."

	"You're okay though, aren't you?" I asked him point-blank.  He'd
eased my fears of violent retribution, but I still worried about he how
viewed his own actions.  "Not feeling guilty, or regretful, or anything
like that?"

	His expressive brown eyes widened in comic surprise.  "Why in hell
would I feel guilty?  I was the victim here.  You're the one should be
feeling guilty."  Was Ogre teasing me?

	"Guilt is a waste of will and emotion."  My voice just as light,
although I meant every word.  "Either fix the situation, learn from it, or
forget about it, then move on."

	"No, no guilt," he assured me.  "Nothing to fix, I learned a lot,
and although I'll probably never forget it, I can move on."  The words
caused a pang in my chest, oddly enough.  Unaware, Ogre continued, "It was
an interesting experience, so, no, no real regrets either.  But," and here
he fixed me with an apologetic uni-brow furrow, "it didn't turn me gay, or
even, you know, heteroflexible, like you.  I'm still straight."

	I blew that off like it was no big deal.  "Of course you are.  This
was just, what, an adventure?"  Dying, for some reason, dying inside.  What
the freak?

	He seized on my words like a plausible Wikipedia entry.  "Yeah, an
adventure.  I'll probably never do anything this crazy again."  Giving me
that apologetic furrow once more, as if afraid he'd hurt my feelings with
his prediction.

	"Nobody ever said you had to do it again," I soothed, although I
think he did hurt my feelings, a little.  Not that I'd ever admit it.

	He hesitated, then said, "Although," and he paused, which for some
reason made my heart pound, but right as he opened his wide mouth to finish
the thought –

	Ding!

	– and he snapped it back closed.

	Probably for the best, I decided, and went ahead, reluctantly, to
change the subject.  "That's got to be my mom," I said, referring to the
ding.  "If I don't text her back tonight's dinner special will be rack of
Sam."  Gingerly, very gingerly, I stood up and wobbled around the bed.

	Ogre scrubbed his face with his ham-hocks, twisted around to sit
up, and reached for his own phone from the stack of clothing on top of his
backpack.  "I'm surprised I haven't heard from my dad yet.  I better check
in anyway."

	Two innocuous messages from my mother –

	Mom: "start moseying on back to the ranch, dinner's almost done"

	Mom: "Sam?"

	– and then the third and most recent, which confirmed that I'd
picked the right one to answer.

	Mom: "wonder if any of the starving children at the orphanage would
like a slightly-used cellphone?"

	I started to reply that they'd probably rather have a cheeseburger,
but I wisely restrained myself.

	Sam: "sorry Mom didn't have my phone on me and lost track of time,
be home in a few"

	Mom: "who and where?"

	Sam: "out with my buddy DJ.  Damien knows him"

	Mom: "hurry up it's your night to set the table"

	Sam: "will do"

	There, that should buy me a few minutes.  Long enough to clean up,
at least.  I tossed the phone back atop my clothing and glanced up and
caught my breath.  Ogre had finished texting his dad and now stood there in
front of me, still nude, with his head thrown back in a yawn and his
sweaty, sex-streaked body spread out in a long stretch, and all the
differing sources of light, from the television's blue screen to the late
afternoon sunshine filtering brown through the drawn cowboy-and-horsie
curtains to the dim yellow glow from the small lamp on the desk, all of it
diffused together in psychedelic abandon to illuminate not only the
powerful youth of today but also the future adult hiding under his skin.
Soon, he'd lose his physical awkwardness and the final remnants of his
childhood chubbiness.  Soon, he'd shed his ill-fitting adolescence to fit
himself with the strength and grace of a man.  He'd never be pretty, but he
would be magnificent.

	I think, in that moment, I adored him, and, just for that single
moment, I allowed it.

	Don't think Ogre failed to pick up on it, either.  He felt my
yearning gaze on him, and he preened, holding the pose far longer than
necessary, and his cock, still huge even in repose, swelled at the
attention.  Only when Sloppy Joey opened the door did he let the posture
drop, with a smirk that, strangely enough, didn't irritate me.

	Joey had rebuilt his man-bun and swapped sweatpants, this time to a
black pair decorated with ducks.  He let the soiled red ones drop to the
floor with studied indifference and collapsed back onto the bed, patting
the mattress around him as if looking for something.  Muttering that he
needed to pee, Ogre took a giant step over Sloppy Joey's discarded clothing
and threw open the door, strode out of the room as if in his own house.
Jeez, give someone a little self-confidence . . .

	I dropped my spectacles on my pile of clothing, threw a wink at
Joey, and followed, so enjoying the sight of Ogre's flat, bare ass flexing
with each step that I almost ran into him when he stopped in the middle of
the hall.  He stood statue-still for a moment, listening to the soft
feminine sighs and the lower masculine rumbles of Inbred Wanda and someone
having sex in the kitchen, then he shook his head and continued on into the
bathroom.  He gave the door a cursory push as he passed, but I caught it
and slipped inside behind him and shut it myself, the long disused hinges
squealing in protest at the treatment.  Ogre flipped up the toilet seat and
stood above the bowl and let go, his penis large and heavy enough that he
didn't even have to take it in hand to aim.  I slipped up behind him and
laid my cheek on his shoulder and reached around to take his heaviness
between my fingers so as to feel the river running through, and I wondered
if he'd startle; he didn't, he just let me hold him as he pissed and leaned
his head back against mine and said not a damned word.  When he finished, I
shook the last drops off and backed away, and he moved to let me have a
turn.  His eyebrows shot up when, instead of straddling the bowl as he'd
done, I dropped the seat and sat down.

	"Just making sure Joey didn't miss any," I explained, letting go my
piss and pushing against my hole.  Wincing, I continued, "Feels like every
organ in my body wants to fall right out."  None of my organs did, of
course, and neither did any stray drops of semen; Sloppy Joey is nothing if
not thorough.  "Gonna feel you up in me for a few days, at least."

	Ogre smirked, then groaned.  "Yeah, same here, I think."

	I glanced pointedly at his cock, and then down at my own.  Catching
on, Ogre burst out laughing.  Even though the features of his face remained
the same, a single true smile on his wide mouth took away infinite amounts
of fugly.  I smiled back and reached for the toilet paper, did a quick wipe
(thankful to see no blood), flushed.  But as I stood Ogre suddenly reached
out and grabbed me, one ham-hock on each shoulder, and drew me closer to
him, closer still.  Then, angling his lips to align with mine, he dove down
and captured them.

	What the fuck is up with people wanting to kiss me in bathrooms?

	I spluttered for a sec, because that's what I do, but I gave in.
Didn't have any choice in the matter anyway.  His mouth moved on mine with
a clumsy tenderness, not grasping, not demanding, merely asking, but when I
sighed and opened up to him, his tongue licked in and tangled with my own.
Gentle, but firm.  Strong, but pliable.  Not an ogre's kiss, but a lover's.

	Drawing away, still not letting go my shoulders, he blushed and
furrowed his uni-brow but looked me directly in the eye.  "I always figured
I'd get my first kiss before I got my first fuck."  Then, giving me a
devastating shy grin, he continued, "As long as I get it in before we get
dressed, that still counts, right?"

	"It still counts, Ogre," I assured him, and I surprised myself by
putting my own hands on either side of his head and pulling him back down,
where I kissed him this time, I took control, and he whimpered and stopped
breathing when I invaded his mouth and explored it top to bottom.  As I
pulled away I scratched my fingers through his crew-cut, grinning at the
dried and flaky areas on the top of his head.  Dropping the subject of
kisses completely, I cuffed him, gently, on his ear.  "You need to clean
up.  Hell, we both do."

	He kept his lips pursed for a sec, but at my words he groaned and
let them resume their more usual scowl.  "That bad?"  With a pointed glance
around to remind me in whose bathroom we stood, he asked, "Can't it wait
`til I get home?"

	"You've got so much dried cum on your scalp it looks like a fatal
case of dandruff."  Glancing down at both our bodies, I continued, "We've
got sex spunked all over us, Ogre.  Our parents would clock it the instant
we walked in.  I know my mom would.  Would your father?"

	"You think Wanda and Joey's dad would mind if we showered here?"

	"Long as they're drunk or stoned or full, I don't think they care
what we do."

	"That's mean, Sam."

	I grimaced.  "You're right, I shouldn't have said that.  I'm sorry.
But no, to answer your question, I doubt they'd mind at all."

	"I'll go first.  Find me a towel?"

	I grabbed two from a stash under the sink and tossed them over the
curtain railing while Ogre started the water.  He stepped into the tub and
started to yank the curtain closed but I grabbed it and climbed in behind.

	"Really, Sam, you have to do this with me too?  Am I that
irresistible?"

	I ignored that remark.  "We have to hurry.  My tongue's been in
your ass, remember?  This is nothing."

	He might have huffed in annoyance but he ducked his head under the
spray so I couldn't be sure, then, when he was slick, he moved away to give
me a go.  "Watch my hair," I warned him.  "Me showing up with a wet head
would send my mom into bloodhound mode."  It was going to be hard enough
explaining why I walked and sat like I had a signpost up my ass.

	"One advantage to having a crew-cut, it'll be dry before I even
leave."  He handed me the soap and we lathered in silence for a moment.
While we didn't talk I examined the sudden closeness I seemed to feel for
him.  The sudden concern.  In only a little over an hour he'd gone from
annoying ogre to valued Ogre, like I nursed a crush on him, and I wasn't
sure why.  Endorphins, maybe?  Oxytocin?  Whatever it was, I just needed it
to fade.  This crush sure crushed the fuck outta me.

	As he slid around me to rinse, Ogre broke the quiet.  "You were
gonna blackmail me, weren't you?"

	Shit.  "Only into sex.  Wasn't going to be an ongoing thing."  Like
that made my intentions any nobler.

	I expected him to ask why I changed my mind, but he didn't.  He'd
mentioned his lack of stupidity a few times, and maybe now that the
testosterone fight-or-fuck haze had faded from his brain he could think
intelligently again, because instead of insisting on clarification he just
nodded like he already understood.  Then, "Thank you."

	Um, what?  I stopped in the middle of gently soaping my violated
hole and squinted at him.  "Um, what?"  Yeah, the human Scrabble dictionary
out of vocabulary words.  Go figure.

	He blew a sigh and gave me an annoyed ogre-glare.  "For not
blackmailing me.  Duh."  Softening, "And for seeing me, I guess.  Nobody
ever sees me, except my dad, maybe my brother.  And my dad doesn't like
what he does see."  No bitterness to the words, only truth.  I felt a screw
of anger in my belly at Ogre's overbearing asshole sire.  Sometimes I think
I'd give anything for a father, and then I see most of my friends' dads and
realize how lucky I am.

	Even though he'd figured it out, I went ahead and clarified,
"That's why I didn't blackmail you, you know.  Because I did see you."  He
smiled, and again I felt my insides squirm, and when the fuck does this
oxytocin shit wear off?  "And thank you, Ogre."

	The uni-brow furrowed.  "For what?"

	"For not panicking, or freaking out.  For just rolling with it."

	"Like I had a choice," he muttered, blushing, moving aside for me
to rinse.

	"You did," I replied.  "You had a choice, and you were brave enough
to make the right one."

	"Full of yourself much?" he asked, but I could see the praise
warmed him, so I didn't riposte, just finished rinsing and turned off the
shower.

	As we stepped out onto a threadbare shag bathmat and toweled off, I
could feel the distance already growing between us, as if by cleansing
ourselves of each other's fluids we'd diluted our intimacy, and maybe we
had.  Because I could see his face drawing back into his more habitual dour
expression and feel my own growing smoother and more calculated.  I
welcomed the coolness even as I mourned it.

	I know, right?

	I threw my wet towel back over the railing and checked my
reflection in the mirror.  Lips still too red, cheeks too flushed, but
those would fade.  Curly edges of my hair damp, but should dry before I got
home.  Couldn't do anything about the sparkle in my eye; I had a feeling it
would be there for a good minute.

	I made way for Ogre to check his own reflection (no, the glass
didn't shatter, shame on you!) and cracked open the door.  The sounds of
grunting in the kitchen had intensified some, but the hallway was otherwise
empty, so I scurried to Joey's room and darted inside, Ogre following along
behind.  And snickering under his breath.

	Joey looked up from his knees on the floor, where he'd been going
through the soiled clothing and other detritus of sloppy living looking for
orc-god knows what.  I held the door for Ogre, who broke into a full guffaw
as he passed.  I slammed the door and gave him my best attempt at an
ogre-glare.  "You shut the fuck up!  It's your fault I'm walking this way!"

	Catching on, Joey cracked up too, and I glared at the both of them.

	When he could talk again, Ogre pointed out, "Even a rules lawyer
like you should be able to admit that I'm NOT the one who forced you down
on my, what did you call it, monolith?"

	"Boom!" Joey said from his place on the floor, then chortled some
more.

	I huffed.

	"Seriously," Ogre said, rummaging through the mess for his dad's
discarded football jersey, "you're worried about wet hair?  I'd like to
hide and watch while you try to explain to your mom why you're walking like
you've got a two by four shoved up in you, mister I-never-lie."

	"I'll figure something out," I muttered, skinning up my boxers.  "I
always do."

	Ogre snorted in amusement but let the subject drop.  "I just hope
whoever is in the kitchen with Wanda gets off soon.  I don't want to know
who that is but I need to go."  A tension to his voice when he said that,
yes, a certain tension and complete lack of humor.  As if he suspected –

	Nah.

	"I hope they're done soon too," I agreed.  "I've got about five
minutes before Mom texts again, and I'd like to --"

	Ding!

	"Dammit," I muttered, and buttoned my shirt so fast I had to redo
it.  We quit with the conversation and concentrated on dressing.  Sloppy
Joey abandoned his fruitless search for whatever he mislaid and pulled a
box from under the bed.

	"Thanks, Joey, but not necessary today," I said, examining myself
in the mirror.  Not bad, if I do say so myself.  Clean-cut teenager again,
shirt tucked in, belt buckle squared.  "Nowhere to put them."

	Joey nodded and proffered a couple of the mid-70's bdsm magazines
to Ogre, who contemplated them for a long moment before slowly accepting
and then stuffing them into his backpack alongside his rule-books and dice.
"Maybe, uh, maybe I'll bring these back sometime."

	Sloppy Joey broke into a huge smile, and his man-bun broke into an
orcish tribal dance on his head.

	I shook my head.  "Although?" I questioned, referring to the
conversation my mom's text had interrupted earlier.

	Ogre caught the reference, and grinned, a little abashed, maybe,
but not ashamed or embarrassed.  "Although."  He hesitated, "And I'm not
ruling out the possibility of enjoying another taste of your, ah --"

	"My charms?" I suggested blandly.

	"Yeah, those things."  He snickered.  "When they've recovered, of
course.  And, uh, if you're willing?"

	Despite the firm negation and anguished clenching of my violated
charm at the very idea, I thought I might be willing, sometime in the far,
far future, for that to happen.  Not that I'd say that.  "What if I wanted
another taste of YOUR charms?"

	Uni-brow furrowed, he muttered, "THAT will never happen again, with
you or anybody.  I swear that."

	Huh.  Even I know better than to throw fate a temptation like that.
As if reading the skepticism on my face, he hefted his pack up onto his
shoulders and raised his uni-brow.  "What?"

	"Nothing, Ogre, nothing at all."

	"That's what I thought.  Ready to go?"

	"Not quite."  I'd almost forgotten, but luckily I didn't.

	Stage 7: Make sure Ogre understands, our little feud or whatever it
was is OVER.

	"You and me?" I asked, gesturing between us.  "We're even now,
right?"

	"Oh hell no," he snorted.  "Not by a long shot."

	"Ogre."

	"You won, Sam," he said again.  "There is no getting even, not from
me.  You beat me and I accept that.  It's over.  That what you wanted to
hear?"  At my nod, he sneered.  "But only on one condition."

	"Name it."  I figured I already knew, and I was right.

	"What happened here stays here.  This doesn't become gossip."

	Joey mimed locking his lips together and tossing the key over his
shoulder, where it would likely molder in the crap on the floor before the
orc opened his mouth.  Figuratively speaking, of course.

	"We're not even on Wanda's radar of shit to blab," I told Ogre, and
Joey nodded in agreement.  "Wanda never gossips about anybody.  And neither
does Joey, in case you were wondering."

	"I wasn't," Ogre said shortly.  "I was mainly referring to you."

	Dammit.  I'd hoped I'd skirted that.  "I tell my brother
everything."

	Ogre groaned.

	I held up my hands.  "Don't worry.  He won't repeat it.  We've got
so much shit on each other we know better than to ever try to use any of
it.  You ever heard of the concept M-A-D?  Mutual assured destruction?"
Ogre looked skeptical.  "Other than Damien, though," I paused, trying to
figure out how to phrase it just right, "yeah, I swear to never speak of
this to any other person."  After all, you guys out there in Nifty-land
have never heard my voice, right?  "That do ya?"

	"Guess it'll have to," he huffed.  "There's a rules-lawyer catch in
there somewhere, but as long as it don't come back to bite me in the ass I
don't care.  I'm done, it's over, you win.  Happy now?"

	"Yeah.  Very happy."

	Stage 7, complete.  Only one left, one that didn't involve his
active participation at all.

	"Good," he proclaimed.  "Can we go now?"

	"You're the one blocking the door."

	Huff.

	Both of us waved bye to Sloppy Joey, but he'd resumed excavating
the floor and so paid no attention as Ogre opened the door and stepped out
into the hall.  And froze.

	Nope, the couple in the kitchen had not yet finished; as a matter
of fact, their moans had increased in volume.  Wanda's hollers sounded
indifferent, even fake, to me, but the guy's grunts were chock full of
conviction.  I started to make a quick joke about that but before I could
Ogre squared his backpack on his shoulders and took off down the hall at a
measured, determined pace.  No hint in his stride that he'd just survived a
good fucking.  Dammit.  I myself still felt like my insides were about to
fall out, but I clenched my aching hole tight as I could and hurried after
Ogre.  I had a feeling some shit was about to go down.

	He didn't even hesitate at the end of the hall, just strode on
through the door like he owned the joint then stopped in the middle of the
room, stopped so suddenly I almost ran into him.  Again.  Nobody noticed.

	Inbred Wanda, still wearing the sundress but minus her panties,
knelt on all fours on the floor while a handsome guy in his thirties,
dressed in pushed down shorts and a pushed up t-shirt, railed into her from
behind.  The man only looked vaguely familiar at first, but as Ogre pushed
out his thin lower lip and wrinkled his uni-brow the resemblance became
clear.  Same high forehead, same small ears, same lack of chin cowering
under a thick, blondish-silver goatee.  Oddly enough, the look worked on
Ogre's dad, as if something about the willful set of his face forced the
dimensions to work together.  Same huge cock as his son, too, what I could
see from the quick glimpses of it pumping into Wanda's ass.

	"Dad."

	Idiot! I thought, groaning to myself.  We probably could have
sneaked on through without either Wanda or his dad being any the wiser, but
the truculent ogre would have to force the issue.

	The man startled, stopped mid-stroke, and Wanda, apparently out of
habit, took over the fuck, riding it back and forth and drooling clearly
fake moans from her lips.

	"Dickie Junior?"  Ha!  Told you he was a Junior!  But Dickie?
Yuck, I'd go by DJ too.  "What are you --"

	"Question is, what are you?" Ogre shot back.

	Dickie Senior grabbed Wanda's hips, stilling them.  "I'm, I'm," he
spluttered, and took a deep breath.  "I'm an adult is what I am," he
sneered at his son.  "So I doesn't matter what I'm doing.  What the fuck
are you doing?  Were you down the hall in Joey's room?  Was that you --" he
paused.  Wanda waited patiently, though how she managed to do it without
wiggling in agony on that adult-sized ogre pecker is quite beyond me.
"That was you fucking in there, wasn't it?  Wasn't it, Dickie Junior?"

	Ogre's face paled.  "I, I," and then my stubborn, obnoxious,
annoyingly tenacious ogre friend did something I never thought he'd do.

	He ran.  Out of the room, past the statue of Wanda and Joey's dad,
through the front door.  Slam!

	Ogre's dad cursed, pulled his cock free of Wanda's ass.  Holy shit,
it was BIGGER than Ogre's.  Thicker.  Longer.  Uncut.  He noticed me
staring and he smirked and sneered as he slid his shorts up over it.  If
anything, that only emphasized the hugeness.

	"Don't go after him," I said, surprising myself.  Surprising him
too, from the dark look he shot me.  "Let Ogre alone."

	"Who the fuck are you, you little fucking runt, to call my son
names?  He's not THAT grotesque."

	Huh.  Willfully handsome, yet twice as fugly as his son.  Go
figure.

	"You're an asshole," I said before I could stop myself, and he
bristled.  Wanda stood up and smoothed her dress down, went back to cutting
up pot, not even caring about the confrontation in her kitchen.  Long as it
didn't harm the cash crop on the table, she didn't care.  "You don't even
care how much you hurt him, do you?"

	He ignored my comments on his relationship with his son.  "Who did
you say you were?"  Eyes narrowing, "And what were you doing to my son back
there?  We heard moaning and groaning and fuck noises but you don't look
big enough to take a baby dick, much less what my son's packing."  Eyes
narrowing further; can he see anything out of those slits?  "Unless . . ."

	Ding!

	"Um, gotta go!  See ya, Wanda, thanks again!"

	"See ya, Rudy, no problem!" she called, and I could've kissed her
but I was too busy dodging her father's feet in the living room.  As I
opened the door to dart through I heard her holler, "Hey, Dickie, don't you
want your weed?"

	Ogre's dad chased me for about half a block before giving up, but I
kept running for at least two, propelled by a strange elation at my own
defiance and escape from Senior and a growing disquiet for what awaited
Junior at home.  No matter what, I vowed, I'd keep an eye on the big guy,
and I'd do my best to help him out of any trouble he landed in.  It was,
after all, my fault he'd been in that house to begin with.

	Ding!

	I stopped, panting, and rested my hands on my knees for a moment,
trying to ignore my throbbing butthole's complaints about jarring its
tender flesh, then checked my phone.

	Mom: "5"

	Mom: "4"

	Mom: "3"

	Sam: "I'm 10 minutes away Mom I swear"

	Mom: "you have 7 and you owe your brother 2 table settings"

	Sam: "understood and omw"

	I brought up another contact even as I trotted for home.

	Sam: "please call me"

	A couple minutes passed while he found a safe spot, then my phone
rang.

	"You have about two minutes before Mom activates the phone locator
app and if you're where I think you are --"

	"Chill, Damien, I'm on my way home as we speak.  Couple blocks
away, that's all."

	"Then who the hell is DJ?  I don't know any DJ --"

	"Yes, you do, Damien, I swear you do, and I'll tell you all about
it, you know I will, but I need a favor."

	"I've already done it and you have to set the table for me two
times in return.  Mom said."

	"I'll set it the next three, okay, just listen a sec, please?"

	"Well?  I'm listening?  Are you talking?"

	"You're such a bonehead."

	"Good start to asking for a favor.  Don't change a thing."

	I counted to five.  "Look, you may or may not notice when I get
there but I'm walking a little funny and I need you to --"

	"You got fucked, didn't you?"  The jerk burst into laughter.  "This
DJ guy wore it out, didn't he?"

	I counted to ten.  "When Mom asks and you know she will I'll
mention that I was rough-housing with DJ and --"

	"Oh, right, because that'll be so believable.  Especially coming
from you."

	Fifteen.  "Look, Damien, bro, I just need you to jump in and
explain it happens all the time and that I'll be fine.  Mom should take
that as bait and start nagging about taking me to the ER.  I can handle all
that, I really will be fine in a day or two, but I need you to divert her
attention from how I got wounded in the first place.  It's not really a
lie, just a distraction, and nobody else I know is as good at that stuff as
you are."

	Total silence for at least ten seconds.  "You're a manipulative
little fuck."  No clue if his voice held admiration or censure; I couldn't
tell without being able to read his face.

	"Please, Damien.  Please."

	"Fine, okay, fine.  But you owe me.  You owe me big-big."

	I winced.  "You'll have to wait awhile."

	He howled with laughter.  "Don't worry, been there done that."

	Bonehead, I thought, but somehow managed to keep from saying.

	"No, I was thinking more along the lines of some hummus from Pizza
Joint.  And maybe a bowl or two."

	"Done."

	"And I want to hear every fucked-up word about how you got
`wounded' when you were `rough-housing' with your `friend DJ'."  Making air
quotes with his voice.  Annoying.

	"Every fucked-up word of it," I promised, then cutting short both
the conversation and his irritating chortles with a single touch to my
screen, I checked the time.  Four minutes left.  Pushing it, but doable.  I
shoved my phone back into my pocket and, ignoring the complaints of my
abused butthole, resumed my uncomfortable trot home while contemplating the
final, and arguably the most enjoyable, stage of my plan.

	Stage 8: Gloat to Damien about the scam I'd pulled off, then
document it for our fans on Nifty.

	That night, after dinner and a tricky but ultimately convincing
conversation with my mother, I bragged to a suitably impressed Damien about
my picaresque adventure, then went to my room and called up my trusty
word-processor.

	So.

	Stage 8, complete.

* * * * *

Thanks for reading my story, I hope you liked it and both came and laughed
lots.  The next in the series, tentatively titled "Ogre Unobtrusive?" will
be out at some point in the future, ogre-deity willing, but first I need to
finish the original "Because" (speaking of which, stay tuned for a sneak
peak at 4b below, and look for the full version to be posted soon!).

If you enjoyed my work please shoot a message to
rustyslocumerotica@gmail.com, I'd love to hear from you.  If you didn't
enjoy it, you can still write but I won't be as interested, unless you can
come up with some neat new insults.

* * * * *

*Excerpt from "Because: The Fourth Orgasm, Section Two: You Put The Hummus
On The Pita And You Slurp It All Up" (I think I was stoned when I came up
with that mouthful, but what the hell, it works):

	Rudy pushed himself up, groaned, fell back against the couch.
"Just a sec."  Muttering to himself, "How am I the last one nekkid in any
orgy ever?" he unbuttoned and pushed down his jeans.  Having gone commando
his hard prick popped up into the light like a pink puppy eager to play.
As he wrestled his pants off I felt an urge to reach over and grab it.

	So I did.

	Rudy sucked in a breath, kicked his feet clear of the jeans, and
settled back, thrusting himself through my fingers like he'd done last
night.  I stroked him a few times, marveling at the stone underneath all
that tender silk, watching the head of his cock appear and disappear
beneath the covering flesh.  His wiry blond pubes tickled the inside of my
wrist.  After a moment his own hand reached over, grasped me in a grip
almost too tight.  I glanced up at the tv and saw that Chad had the two of
us centered on that screen like a real-life professional pantyhosed
cameraman.  Sam watched me and Rudy wank each other as avidly as any live
audience, and I wondered if he'd applaud if we came.  The thought pushed
some precum out to drip over Rudy's hand.

	"Oh, my bruddah," Rudy drawled, his tone tense behind that honey
voice.  "I could do this all night."

	"Yeah," I agreed, unable to take my eyes off the tv.  "We look
hot."

	"We feel hot, too."

	"Yeah."

	We watched the boys on the tv for a long minute, watched them pound
each others' puds and think thoughts they couldn't say aloud, no matter how
badly they wanted or needed to say them.  Because if a simple tandem jerk
looked this hot, felt this hot, how much hotter would it be if they could
admit they wanted to do more?  Because if they could use their fingers on
each other to this much effect, how much more effective would it be to use
lips and tongues?  Because which is scarier, desire or denial?  Honesty or
hope?  Rivers, or rain?

	We decided not to think about it right now.  With a sigh of obvious
reluctance, Rudy let go my rager, pushed me off his own.  Good thing, too.
I don't think I could've been the one to do it.  I felt the loss of his
fingers, and, well aware my own touch could never measure up, I blew out a
sigh and dropped my hands to my sides, leaving my cock to quiver there,
abandoned, in close-up on the screen.

*	*	*	*	*

Coming soon!
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/because