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Out of Luck

Out of Luck

Chapter 1: Mr. Malloc

No one wants something more than if they can't have it. That's why I believe the best way to get guys is to pretend you're straight – and you had better believe it works like a charm.

For example, take that guy over there. He's gay – I can feel it. I have this amazing gaydar I carry around with me at all times, and to this day has never led me astray. And that guy over there, sitting on that bench, deep in concentration is definitely gay. Allow me to demonstrate.

Step One: Establish Straightness

I took out my cell phone, made sure it was turned off, and began to have a fictitious conversation with my fictitious girlfriend.

"Baby, don't worry about it. I'll – you what?" I paused appropriately and waited for my fictitious lover to give me her fictitious words. While she was doing so, I meandered my way over to Mr. Bench and sat down in one of the benches opposite him. It was a park, so there were plenty of benches – this meant I had to be careful with my choice of bench. I wanted to get close enough to be able to eventually find an excuse to start up a conversation, while at the same time, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by sitting too close. "Come on, don't get too upset about it. You gotta do what you gotta do. I won't get mad, you're my girl."

I knew right away that my one-sided conversation was starting to annoy the boy; he began to shift his position and fidget. He was, after all, trying to read or study or whatever with that book on his lap.

"Ok, you do that. You really should. Ok? Call me when you're done. Bye, babe." And with that, I ended the conversation that didn't actually exist.

Step Two: Start Conversation

(It is worth noting that step one and two can often be reversed.)

As I made my motions to put my cell phone away in my bag, I snorted conversationally. "Girls."

The other boy was aware that I was talking to him, but obviously didn't want to respond in a way that would encourage me to continue. He shrugged noncommittally and without looking at me. Unfortunately for him, I had plans. You see, not only am I a master at pretending to be straight, I am a master of conversation. I can go on for hours with a complete stranger if I have to, and leave the conversation with an excellent impression.

I nodded, not feeling bad about ruining his concentration. "What are you reading?"

Finally, he looked at me. This is good – the first look is always crucial and can come in many different times and flavors. The first look is when I can immediately tell if he's into me or not. If he's into me, I know it's worth the effort to keep pushing. If he's not, I'll probably meander off and look for someone else.

This boy was into me.

I hate to stroke my own ego, but it's actually very rare that gay guys aren't into me. Girls, too, for that matter. I'm pretty damned hot, I'm not going to lie. My body is nothing to be ashamed about – during high school I'd kept it in shape by being in the track team, and when I entered college, I had my daily jog around campus and nightly pushups. My face isn't too shabby either – large amber eyes, straight nose, kissable lips, a worthy chin, a sculpted jaw line, and dimples – all this covered by a head of nobly straight rust-colored hair. Yeah, I'm the real deal.

While we're on the subject of looks, Mr. Bench wasn't completely devoid of sexiness either. He was a blondie, sad gray eyes – and if my eyes don't deceive me a few freckles scattered atop his adorable little button of a nose as well. Yeah, I'd hit that. And I'll do everything in my power not to let him know that.

A little less reluctant now that he knew of my dashingly handsome looks, the boy offered up a shy smile. He had nice teeth. "It's just my psychology text."

Step Three: Charm and be Charmed

This is one of my favorite parts. It's the part where I try my best to win over the man until his own gaydar decides that I'm probably at least a little bi-curious, after which I watch the other bloke try his best to seduce me. For some guys, I let myself be 'seduced' rather quickly. For other guys though, I'll let it go on for weeks, months. Years, even. The longer the deception lasts, the better the sex is for both of us. Mr. Bench, however, is merely for demonstration purposes, so I plan on teasing him only for a short amount of time before we make-out behind a tree and never see to each other again.

I smiled my award-winning smile, dimples and all. "Is it your major, or just an elective?"

The boy shook his head, a little chunk of blond hair falling in front of his eyes. Delicious. "It's for my minor. I'm actually an International Business major."

"I see, I see." I nodded my head in a way that I've seen real straight boys do a million fucking times. While I had gotten a response that was more than just a grunt and a gesture, I was clearly making progress, but nowhere near where I wanted to be – he hadn't asked about me yet, a tell-tale sign of not-yet-interested. So I pushed forward. "What's your year?"

"Senior." He paused, trying to give me a discreet little check-out, building his interest in me. "Are you a student?"

Score! Inquiry! "Yeah! I'm over at BIT. Computer Science major with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence." That was another thing that was important – where he went to college. Under no circumstances would I fuck around with someone I had a chance of running into again at school – they'd screw it up with the guys I was playing with there. After he confirms that he is not a student of BIT – Bearleton Institute of Technology – I should probably find some way into a different topic. There are few things less sexy than back-propagation neural networks and decision tree induction, let me tell you. "But I'm sure your business-slash-psychology thing is hella more fun."

The cutie let out a cute little laugh. Not exactly a giggle, but pretty close. And did I mention cute? I wanted to eat him. "Fun wouldn't be the word I'd choose. It's a lot of work – it better make me rich. I've heard BIT is pretty tough, though."

And score again! He doesn't go to BIT. Perfect. Now back away from school and into more intimate things. "It has its moments. Were you studying for some sort of test?"

"Yes," For some reason he began to flip through the pages of his text. When he eventually stopped, he turned around the book so I could see it and pointed to one of those blob-pictures on the right page. "Interpretation. What do you see?"

"A black blob. What am I supposed to see?"

"Try again. You can see anything."

"Um…" I knew that I could see anything. I knew that my answer was supposed to reflect some deep insight into my mind. I had taken AP Psychology in high school and considered myself pretty good in it – not to mention there's this strong anti-liberal arts sentiment in the students of BIT, and frankly, I also considered it too easy to be taken seriously. But this kid was fuckable so I didn't want to insult him. "I see a melting cat."

"Really?" He turned the book around and studied it. "I don't. I see an upside down flower on fire."

At that moment, we laughed carelessly. During this laugh, we made eye-contact, and I let it linger longer that a real straight guy would have let it linger, and I could tell that Mr. Bench noticed it.

Step Four: Give Hope, Take Hope

"That's pretty gay."

This step is the one that can last the longest. Like sex, the longer it is, the better it is. It starts immediately after he starts getting 'bicurious vibes' and ends when the desired level of tension is created, or until any further application of tension would result in returning a null result. An important and very basic part of this stage is firmly establishing that he is gay and I'm not.

The man's face suddenly hardened a bit at my words – the appropriate response. "Don't use 'gay' that way. I don't appreciate it."

I feigned awkward surprise. "Oh – oh sorry. Are you-" I looked around a little nervously and lowered my voice a bit. "Are you…?"

"Yeah, I am gay." He said it loud and proud and without hesitation. He was going to be easy.

"That's cool. I'm sorry. An upside-down flower on fire is awesome and therefore gay. Because gay is awesome. Ok, get it? Good save right?" I wanted tug his blond head down to my crotch – but I must have patience. I offered my hand. "Peace? I'm Alec."

He let lose an adorable forgiving smile and took my hand. "Peace. I'm Dennis."

"So, uh, Dennis." I pretended to have an awkward moment of silence. "Have a, you know, boyfriend?" Give hope.

"Yeah. He's older and out in the real world, doing the work thing. I get lonely."

This is actually not a problem. Boyfriends happen. Spontaneous fucks happen more. Therefore, I had the advantage over Mr. Out-in-the-real-world. Especially if loneliness is involved. "Out in the real world? I'm not sure if I can get involved with someone who's out there. I usually prefer if they don't go to BIT-" Give hope! "- like my girlfriend right now goes to the community college down the road." Take hope away. "But having someone out in the real world - that's gotta be tough."

Dennis nodded in understanding, staring obviously at me, trying to find a good excuse to try to convince me that I'm actually a little curious about guys and that it was his duty to be the one to sate that curiosity. "Oh, I know. Trust me. He's always got some office drama to complain about or extra work he has to do."

"That's rough." We stared at each other for a while. This was my way of building up hope again, since I couldn't really think of a response that teased properly. Staring was always a good default way of communicating: I want you to casually suggest we have sex because I'm too straight to admit I'm actually curious about cock. Especially your cock, you sexy blond beefcake, you.

He got my telepathic message. There's always a moment where they make up the decision in their mind to try to seduce me right out and proper, and the line they think they should use to start it. "I'm sorry, but you have really nice eyes."

I've heard that before. Like I said, this guy is going to be easy. Play it out awkwardly, Alec. Adorably awkward. "Oh. Uh, thanks." Study his eyes. "Yours aren't too bad, either." Of course, I had to meet him halfway if I wanted him to play nicely. "They're the same color as my car."

Accepting my game of bashful-discrete-awkward-flirtation, Dennis flashed his wonderful smile of toothy sexiness in a way that screamed the sexual excitement I'm getting in anticipation of seducing a straight boy in his own car is making me impatient. "You have a car? Would you mind giving me a ride home? I'm on East Wellscott Street."

"That's on the way to BIT, isn't it?" I felt victory in the tip of my cock as I anticipated my inevitable prize. I would like to take this point in time to say that the feeling of naughty victory is shared by the boy I'm trying to convince to seduce me – it's a very satisfying feeling for a homosexual to know that you've taken the gay virginity of a supposed straight person. And that's the gift I give to all of 'my' boys. "Yeah, ok. We can leave now if you want."

Oh, he wants. "Ok, let me put my book away and we can go. I really appreciate this, Alec."

I'm sure you do.

As I led Dennis out to my car in its paralleled parked place on the street, we continued our idle chatter. It mostly consisted of how old and wonderfully shitty my car was. When Dennis was finally allowed entrance into the passenger side of my car, he allowed himself a good long look, inspecting it thoroughly. "Nice tinted windows, Mr…" He paused when he realized he didn't know my last name. "Mr. Alec."

"You may call me Mr. Malloc." Oh, you had better believe it.

Dennis hardly concealed his smirk and the laughter that followed. Oh, that mouth. The wonderful, wonderful things I bet that mouth was capable of was something I didn't want to wait to personally experience. "Alec Malloc? Seriously?" When I confirmed the rhyming nature of my name, he burst out in laughter again. "Sorry, I mean. That's awesome."

"You mean gay." This was going very well. VERY WELL. I'm fucking handing it to him on a fucking plate. "Get it? From earlier?"

"Oh, I get it. I just disagree." Take the bait, take the bait! "This is gay."

And with those last words, Dennis leaned in and planted and rather tender and convincing kiss upon my lips. Oh god, how I wanted it to last longer, maybe indulge myself in a little tongue. But that would be too easy – and like any good programmer, I loved a good challenge. I did the straight thing and jerked away, surprised. "Whoa! Dennis – I'm not that way!"

Dennis was, naturally, expecting it. "Come on, Alec, aren't you at least a little curious what it's like with a guy?"

Keep denying! "Hell no!"

"All guys are. They're just too proud to admit it." The soothing sound of his voice was very coaxing, very convincing. He probably had previous experience seducing the straight and-or deeply closeted. "Just me a chance to show you, ok?"

While he spoke, I distinctly felt a hand on the top of my pants. Personally, I thought the approach was too strong, but since I was determined to get off either way, I didn't stop him. Instead, I breathed loudly – a noble alternative. "But Denn-"

Step Five: Give In

Before I could finish my meaningless plea, Dennis had attacked my mouth with his lips once again, his hand reaching down and cupping my penis in a most pleasant way. I knew I was going to be rather hard rather soon. When I gasped, Dennis took the opportunity to force his tongue into my mouth and moan like the slut he was – digging his face into mine, I loved it.

I didn't give in to him right away. A straight guy – even an easily convincible and bicurious guy wouldn't feel comfortable with that intense of a kiss right away. After a few seconds of Dennis's solo tongue-swirling heat, however, I finally gave in a returned his efforts with a skill that I have often been complimented on. He moaned again. No, it was more like a growl.

With a finesse that made it clear his true sluttiness, Dennis began to undo my pants, single-handedly. When his cold hand found my blazing hot erection, I hissed a bit. "Dennisss. That's my…"

"I know what it is." And then we began to feverishly kiss some more as Dennis decided that the best way to warm up his hand was to give me a hand job. I silently agreed with him on this one.

It wasn't long before Dennis thought it was time to introduce the "straight" boy in the driver's seat next to him about receiving a ***** from a knowledgeable man. In his awkward twisted position from the passenger seat, it couldn't have been very comfortable for him. It was, however, very comfortable for me. One hand was on the back of Dennis's head, tangling my fingers all in his blond hair, and not feeling bad about forcing him to pick up the speed a little. My other hand was stretched out in front of me, my hand grabbing onto the steering wheel in my intense pleasure induced fist. ****, this is hot. Dennis was all up moaning on my cock and I was all up cursing lightly as I watched Dennis's head move up and down with skillful precision, deeply enjoying his well-trained tongue service me in ways I'd forgotten were possible. Oh, this was worth it. Fuck, fuck, fuck –

When I came, Dennis swallowed all of it. I knew he would; he came off as the type of guy that loved ***** more than he loved his mother. When he sat back up, he spent a few seconds making sure all my cum was properly taken care of, and then leaned back over to kiss me on my lips once more.

Step Six: Shame, Denial and Escape

Right before he made his mark, I turned my head so he kissed my cheek instead. Obviously displeased, Dennis returned to his seat and faced forward. You always had to insult them a little. "So?"

You were amazing. "I can't believe I just did that. I have a girlfriend." Dennis just watched me silently as I did my usual scripted freak-out, frantically tucking myself back in and zipping up my pants. "Fuck! I can't tell her. I can't tell anyone. Fuck! This never happened. Why did I let you… aw, fuck!"

"I'm so sorry I couldn't please you." A sarcastic roll of the eyes and a door slam later, Dennis had left my car in an angry queenish stomp. When he was out of sight, I let out a sigh and looked in my rear-view mirror to make sure I didn't have "JUST GOT A BLOWJOB" written all over me; I didn't.

As for making Dennis angry, I didn't worry about it. I would never see him again, and after he got over his anger, he'd bask in the pride of sucking off some hot straight guy in his car. He's probably even brag about it to his friends both before and after he broke it off from Mr. Real-World.

Everyone has their favorite thing. My sister's thing is to tell every guy she dates she's a virgin. My protestant friend's thing is to only date Jewish girls, so he can shock them in his uncircumcised nature. My thing is to pretend I'm straight and watch as all my gay suitors try extra hard to seduce me. Eventually, I always give in at the end, and never the boy again; everyone wins. My 'seducer' wins, because he thinks he just took my gay virginity, and I win because once again, I succeeded in my thing.

As I started my car and began to meander my way out of the tight parking spot, my thoughts began to wander to school work I had to complete for tomorrow, how many more miles I could get out of this tank of gas and that I should really give my mom a call before the weekend.

And then I returned back to my apartment, alone.


This is a story


  • bigbro09bigbro09 PEx Influencer ⭐⭐⭐
    *nosebleedsibigbro09* LOL
  • Ang ganda. Napakalinaw ng pagpapaliwanag. Pakituloy ha.
  • Out of Luck

    Chapter 2: The Lucky Charmer

    As I know I've stated before, I don't like to fuck around with boys that go to BIT. My usual location to man-hunt is the UB down the street a bit. (Bearleton is a rather large city, so it has a good five or six universities scattered about in his main radius, and three or four others outside of it.)

    Right now, I'm probably goofing around with three guys at UB. One guy I met two weeks ago; he's a horny little freshman, and I plan to "give in" in no less than a week. The other guy I've been teasing for nearly six months. I'd planned to have him faster, but he recently came out of the closet, so he's a little unskilled at the techniques of seduction, so I know it's going to take a while.

    The third guy is my ultimate favorite, without a doubt: Terry Bufferman. I've been eating away at him now for three years, my entire worth as a university student. Terry has this gorgeous swarthiness that can only come from generations of manly perfection. If he lived in ancient Greece, he could probably convince them he was a descendant of a God. Let me divulge you: standing at about six-foot-three, 160 lbs of pure muscle, short slightly-wavy black hair, a well-shaven dimpled chin, piercing green eyes, a thin black layer of the sexiest and silkiest chest hair that teased the eyes with better things to come when a small trail continues past the rim of his pants, a lip ring that teased ever-so-subtly and an ass so firm and tight the mere sight of it could make your knees weak with arousal.

    Terry has been my ultimate fantasy for the longest time now. Even when getting off with other guys – whether they be long-term catches or spur-of-the-moment games – I would often let my mind wander to him, pretending it was him doing all those wonderful things to be.

    Even yesterday with that kid – Dennis – I had my fair share of fantasy. If only it was Terry's black waves instead of those blond wisps my hands were entangled in.

    So why has my waltz with Terry been so long? What has possessed me to continue this charade of false seduction and boundless deception of super-sexiness for three years? Let me tell you the story of how Terry and I met.

    It was freshman year, and all excited about having a new arena in which to play my games. In high school, I had realized I was gay rather early on, as well as the fact that I had this natural skill to appear incredibly not gay. It was there that I first learned began to indulge myself in the dangerous art of seduction; despite how straight I acted, there was this one gay kid who seemed simultaneously intimidated and aroused by my hotness and straightness and didn't seem to know what to do with it. To make a long story short, I began to establish a set of rules of meeting the kid halfway to allow him better excuses to talk to me, to try to make me like him. It turned me on. He wasn't my first man, but after graduation, I finally "gave in" to him and that felt incredibly good. For both of us. I digress.

    So I got to college. I loved being gay. I loved expressing my gayness through my straightness. I also loved being dominant. I loved expressing my dominancy under the pretense that I was the one that had to be influenced. Most of my victims loved being dominated by me, and I loved dominating them, both sexually and mentally.

    Back then, I was usually only hunting at the community college, where entrance to the gym was free and fruitful. There, I met Terry. He too was a freshman at the time, and no-less sexy than he now; I immediately knew that he was gay and I wanted him so bad I almost dropped my weights.

    And I knew he was interested in me. In fact, he was the one who started the conversation. He asked me to spot for him – and who was I to disagree? I spotted for him long and hard, putting in a truly significant effort to be as straight as possible. I wanted him – and like all my boys, I wanted to dominate him, wanted to bend him over and do him so hard in that tight ass he wouldn't be able to walk for a week. And at the same time, I knew that was exactly what he wanted to do to me.

    I made a decision right then and there that I wouldn't "give in" to Terry until he wanted me so bad, he would submit to me - begging.

    Three years later, Terry and I were extremely close, but extremely platonic. But he still wanted me, and I still wanted him. I had teased and lead astray for so long, I'm almost positive he knows I'm a lot gayer than I let on, but he still refuses to bow down to me. Fuck, at this stage in the game, I'll settle for a casual offer for a blowjob.

    On busy weeks, I visit Terry once a week. On usual weeks, I visit him three times; this was a usual week. He lived in on off-campus apartment with this fag haggy chick named Andrea who hates me because she didn't think I'm gay.

    "Alec." Terry's voice was a smooth baritone, made for the sole purpose of saying my name.

    "What." I have no idea what my voice sounds like to others, but I know it's sexy.

    "Whatever happened to your girlfriend?"

    Oh. Sometimes, in order to keep up my straight guise, I find a girl to date and occasionally fuck. Don't worry, I have my standards – she has to be skinny, and with small boobs. No jiggling in the chest-area allowed, that's just gross. "We broke it off."

    Terry and I were sitting on his couch, watching some cop-show. Some intense shoot-out was happening right now, but I don't think Terry or I cared that much. It was a rerun: nobody important died. "You suck at serious relationships."

    He was teasing me. He might as well have said You suck at serious relation ships with girls, because girls don't have dicks and you don't feel inclined to take them seriously – which was true, by the way. I can't take girls seriously. They're squishy and giddy and bitchy and have more than one fuckable hole. What a joke. For real. "That's because I attract all the stupid hoes."

    "Wasn't one a member of MENSA?"

    "No, you're thinking about me." And then my head got punched. "Whatever happened to your boyfriend?" Yeah, he dates a lot of guys, and I'm always mean to those hopeless sluts and openly celebrate when they leave. I usually get a girlfriend around the time he gets a boyfriend, just so we can go on double-dates and complain about our partners together. It's true male bonding.

    "I don't know. I never saw him after that time you peed on his art project. He hadn't been graded on it yet – who knew?"

    We both looked at each other and laughed. I made sure we held eye contact for a second longer than was unnoticeable – after which I returned my eyes back to the screen, aware that he was still looking at me. He wants me so bad! Did I mention we were shirtless? Yeah, we were shirtless. It was the proper and only attire for guys to wear while watching TV. I wanted to reach over and bite his nipples, but I didn't because that would be too gay – see my dilemma? "You were thinking about doing it, too. Admit it."

    He nodded and we laughed again. I wanted to wrestle with him – a perfectly straight thing to do, you know – so I grabbed a pilled and tossed myself at him, managing to peg him in an arm lock when he hesitated in his surprise.

    A few punches, pinches and rolling around later, we were on the floor – and I was on the top. Oh yeah, bitches – Alec takes one home for the team! I love wresting.

    But then Terry in all his manliness just had to ruin my moment and twist my arm around in a way that I had to adjust myself in a way that gave him an opportunity to switch our positions around; he was now on top.

    This is the story of my life – not that I entirely disliked Terry sitting on top of me, smirking down with his evil smirk of victory, both of us breathing heavily from the sudden physical movement – its just that I like being the one on top, and Terry just has to like it more. Or something.

    "You shouldn't even try anymore, you know I'll I win –by any means possible!" Terry smirked down at me and nonchalantly rested his hand on my bare chest. At first it really didn't seem like a big deal. But after our smirks were gone and the excitement of wrestling had died down, he didn't remove it, and it was becoming really obvious.

    Eventually, I simple just reached down and removed the hand, without saying anything. That was Terry's cue to get off me and return to the couch, ready to return watching whatever had returned from the commercials. It wasn't really awkward – Terry and I had these sort of things all the time.

    "You need a boyfriend." I casually announced. Terry looked at me funny. "And I need a girlfriend."

    "Getting tired of your right hand?"

    "Just because I'm not dating doesn't mean I don't get plenty of ass, Terry."

    He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "I believe you, I really do."

    "Let's make a deal. Whoever gets a date the fastest gets to…" Fuck the other senseless. "…Well, whoever loses has to take the bill." I was referring, of course, to the standard double-date we would inevitably plan.

    He reached his hand out to me. "Deal."

    I took it. "Deal."

    Terry shook my hand twice before releasing and sighing. "I think I'm going to go for something a bit different this time – someone to fuck me this time."

    I stared at him, surprised by both his words and the expression his face. Basically, I had won – Terry knew he wanted me so bad that he was losing sleep over it, and all my hard work of pretending to be dominantly straight had finally entered into his mind enough to be able to put the two together. Only something was different about this and

    the way I usually get my fucks – he was the one "giving in" and I had to take the bait.

    Like I often find myself doing, he was offering something very indirectly seductive in his words, and it was up to me to be the final aggressor – if I chose to take his bait, I would be the one that would have to convince him.

    "Interesting, thanks." Ok, fuck – fuck, it wasn't the best thing to say, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else.

    Terry waited for a few more seconds before turning back to the TV, his face unreadable. Fuck – was that my chance? Did I just miss it? For real? FUCK!


    I was aggravated. So aggravated, that I decided to take a direct trip to one of my other UB fucks – the horny little freshmen – and mentally fuck him so fast he'll have no choice but to give into me physically as well.

    It didn't take long, actually. I was there for an hour before I had him on his bed, naked, his arms stretched out awkwardly in front of him as I grabbed his little freshmen ass and banged him so hard I think he enjoyed it a little too much. It was one of those fantastically mind-fuckingly rough fucks where I just let my mind blank, and fuck all that missed opportunity with Terry right into the boy's ass. My orgasm was so hard, I nearly blacked out – but I didn't feel mentally at peace. I couldn't shake the feeling that it should have been Terry's ass I just shot my rough load into instead of Mr. Freshman.

    That night, I went out and got a date – a female one. She was one of those "hot" girls with long, straight blond hair, an awkward dark tan she probably acquired in a tanning booth, and a body that all anorexics envy. When I called Terry that night to boast, he said he'd already gotten himself a boyfriend. Fuck. I lost again.

    I bit my pride and suggested we all go out for coffee Saturday or something. He agreed.

    Mr. New Boyfriend is going to have to die.


    Not drunk. Although angry and highly caffeinated. Angry because my roommates are lazy and stupid. Caffeinated because why not. Enjoy!
  • Napakaganda. Sobrang naa-appreciate ko ang pagkapoetic ng mga linya. Yung narration. Yung flow of thought. Grabe yung tensyon sa pagitan ni Alec st Terry. Hindi ko kinakayaaaaaa! Hahaha. Pakituloy, please. Wag mong iiwan sa ere itong kwento mo. Utang na loob. Cheers, pare. *fistbump* (omg lakas maka-straight lol)
  • Out of Luck

    Chapter 3: Interviews that Matter

    My new girlfriend's name is Mallory Maddox. Despite her lack of penis, I think she and I are going to get along passably well; she was short, artificially tanned, artificially made up, too skinny to have proper boobs, and her hair had this artificially straight-blond thing going. From what I had gathered from our brief chat, she liked having pictures taken of her while naked, enjoyed fruity alcoholic drinks (add in random flirtatious comment about Sex on the Beach) and was open to anal.

    I met up with Terry sometime later in the week, before our big 'double-date-coffee-Saturday-extravaganza', and we shared a beer and descriptions of our new dates.

    "She had some fucking gorgeous blond hair, Terry. I mean – sunset-gold kind of blond. It's intense. That, and she can hold her liquor in a way that impressed me like – well, like I haven't been impressed by a girl in a long time."

    Terry offered a random grunt of acknowledgment. "I've got myself a blond one, too. Not exactly sunset gold material, but – well, you know. A real blond. Those are rare. He's coming over in a while, so you can see for yourself. 'Sgot a nice ass, too."

    "Ahh, the important things in life." I nodded my straight-boy nod and gulped down a bit of my beer, trying to look pensive about it. "Just out of curiosity, you know. Did you ever find someone to – well, you know, you said something about… being fucked." I turned to him, curious. I tried to make it come off as though I was casually following up on conversation, but me thinks it came out a bit too much like how I was actually feeling – too fucking curious to talk properly. When our eyes met, I adverted them; Terry could read eyes. Especially fine. Fuck.

    "Well," Terry, my most favorite person in the world, made a noticeable hesitation as he drove into his mind's resources, and tried to blame the pause on the fact he was ingesting beer. But he could never fool me. I knew that awkward little inhale of air – it was his way of telling me the answer to your awkward question is also awkward and I'm trying to think of a less awkward lie to answer with so we can move on and forget I ever told you something like that, even though I really wanted you to take the bait and proclaim your never-ending lust for me and fuck me senseless right then and there. But since you didn't, I'm going to have to tell you that – "No. When I got to the club, I just saw a wave of twinks looking at me, practically begging me to fuck them – and hey, what's a guy to do but grab the nearest five and take them into the back room? Oh, and – let me tell you about this one guy there, he had one of those split-tongues, and wow, you'd be surprised how much control he had over each of his-"

    "Ok, ok, ok, Terry! Details! Fuck dude, didn't care that much." It was comforting, actually, to say something really straight like that. Terry must have felt something too, for he immediately smiled in his rare-goofy way and downed the rest of his beer.

    His cell phone rang. Before picking it out of his pocket curiously, he handed me his empty bottle of beer and told me to take it to his counter; I did. By the time I returned back, his conversation had ended.

    "That was my BF. He forgot my apartment number, he'll be up in about…"

    And then the doorbell rang. And then the door opened. And then in walked Dennis.

    Yeah, Dennis. You all remember Denis – Mr. For-Demonstration-Purposes-Only, Mr. Eyes-the-same-color-of-my-car, Mr. awesome-is-gay, Mr. *****-in-my-car, and now, apparently, Mr. Boyfriend-of-my-best-friend-and-who-could-seriously-fuck-up-all-my-three-years-of-waiting-for-Terry. When he walked in, they didn't hug or kiss, just shared a brief look. You know, the we-fucked looked.

    Then our eyes met. That is, Dennis's gray eyes met with my amber ones and I could immediately see the sparks of recognition in them. Then the sparks of confusion. Then he left mine for a second to rest on Terry, who was busy closing the door. And then they returned to mine, and I saw the sparks of pure malice. He smiled deceivingly. "Hello," Now I know what the hell in hello is for.

    Terry – the door successfully closed – placed one of his god-like hands in the small of Dennis's back and motioned towards me. "Dennis, meet my best friend Alec. We're planning on going out with him and his new girlfriend Saturday for coffee."

    "Ok." He was still looking at me, the confusion creeping back into his eyes. "Nice to meet you – I'm Dennis."

    He offered his hand like it was in slow motion. I took it carefully, half expecting an earth quake to happen on the second of fleshly contact or something dramatic. Nothing did, really. But his eyes. Those large, sorrowful and icy gray eyes seemed to be trying their best to send some sort of telepathic question to me. There was a brief silence. Usually, I realized, it was up to me to start badgering the new boyfriend immediately, which was why Terry hadn't said anything for a while. It was becoming awkward.

    Then Terry's cell rang again. He looked at the number – "Hold on, this is my mom, you guys. I'm taking this outside." As he made the motions the exit, he turned back and eyed the two of us hopefully. "Play nice."

    And that left Dennis and myself staring at each other rather awkwardly. I couldn't bare it. "You can't tell him."

    He didn't act as though he'd heard me. "It's you."

    "I know it's me. But seriously, Terry – you can't tell him that you and me-"

    "I always thought you gave in too quickly. And it had all went a little too well, you know? A quick, neat little ditty that never really happens with two sincere people." He smiled a genuine smile. A genuinely evil smile. "You're a fucking flamer and you know it, don't you?"

    I paused. So he did know the game I was playing at – or if he didn't, he was going to find out very soon. How the fuck did you get yourself into this one, Mr. Malloc? I shrugged, having trouble to find the words. I suddenly found it very odd to admit to him that I knew I was gay. "I'm awesome."

    Dennis raised an eyebrow. A light-brownish-blond eyebrow. "I see."

    Another silence passed. I was beginning to wonder how long Terry's conversation with his mom was going to last – and why the fuck did he need to take it outside? I mean, fine, I understand that sometimes family manners could be a little tense and embarrassing, but he could always have asked her to call back another time when he didn't have company or something.

    I scratched the back of my ear awkwardly. Dennis was just standing there, staring at me. "Whatever happened to Mr. Out-in-the-real-world?"

    "I cheated on him. We ended it." That was all he said, his face continuing to be unreadable.

    "Shame, that." Was he talking about me? Or was there some other bloke he fucked or sucked off or something? Should I say something about killing him if he cheats on Terry? Would that be a little distasteful? "Well, this is awkward."

    "Very." Again, nothing else.

    I studied Dennis closely. He didn't look that much different from when we met in the park not-so-long ago. His hair looked shorter and a bit more styled, but all else was really the same. It was weird. "You know, I've known Terry for three years."

    "Long time."

    "Yeah, and we're quite platonic."


    "So you can't tell him."

    "I won't."

    I looked at him, studied him, visually raped him. Was Dennis someone I could trust? Maybe I should ask him. "Really?"

    "Really." Something in Dennis's demeanor relaxed, and he went over to sit down on Terry's couch. "And I really am looking forward to our double-date Saturday. It'll be fun."

    I didn't like the way he said that. But then Terry returned and I couldn't press him about it; I left soon after, the awkwardness getting to me. I guess I'll just have to trust that Dennis will keep his talented mouth shut.


    When Saturday rolled around, I was pumped. For some reason, this date – more so than all the other previous double dates I'd been on with Terry – seemed to hold an extra special amount of intensity to it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Terry's boyfriend was more sexually familiar with me than my own 'girlfriend.' Yeah, it's probably that.

    Whatever the case, I invited Mallory over a little early before taking off to the coffee shop. Like whatever – I don't really care that no one else thinks it's a big deal, but I was nervous. What if Dennis decided to say something that would tip off both Terry and Mallory about my gayness? That would just fuck everything up. EVERYTHING.

    Since it was mid afternoon, nothing special was going on at the coffee shop – although business was buzzing around it just the same. Mallory and I got there a little early and had been seated for a while before Dennis and Terry showed up – and damn, both of them looked good.

    Ok, ok. Terry always looked good. Even in his casual blue jeans and his casual striped shirt and his casual perfect hair and his casual perfection and his perfect casual-ness – oh, fuck. Terry's hot, I want him. But almost as a tribute to the fact that I had somehow managed to fuck things up with Terry good, Dennis walked in right afterwards. And fuck, he looked good too. Like, I don't know why he looked especially good right now as opposed to the last time I saw him – but he just did.

    Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the fact that anything within a three-foot radius of Terry's sexiglow looked better, or maybe it was just the fact that Dennis was naturally good looking and I was in a good enough mood to notice it. Whatever. I tugged one of Mallory's straight locks of hair and pointed at the boys when he turned to scowl at me. "There they are."

    I could see it in her eyes too – she thought they were hot. Damn right she should – I wouldn't be dating the cunt if she didn't even think Terry was hot. "Oh, wow. They're gay right? Too bad."

    Terry and Dennis got their respective coffees and joined us at our table – Mallory and I on one side, Terry and Dennis on the other. Generally speaking, double dates usually consisted of Terry and me reminiscing about old times while our partners remained silent and awkward. I opened my mouth to speak to Terry – and was cut off by a rather not-sorry looking Dennis, who was addressing Mallory.

    "So how long have you two been together?"

    Mallory seemed delighted to have been paid attention to first. Damn bitch. When she begs me to fuck her, I'm not going to use lube. "Well, not very long." She turned to me as if to ask a question, but didn't actually ask it and returned away before I had a chance to say anything. "Less than a week."

    Dennis smirked at me in such an obvious way, I'm sure Mallory or Terry noticed. It was like he was saying Such a short time? Was she the one you were complaining about after I blew you? Doesn't sound like it. Oh, are there more girls? You must really be pathetic, dating all these girls you don't even like just so you can convince Terry you're not a raging hot piece of homosexual meat. Juicy bastard. Yeah, just like he was saying that. "Same as Terry and me. Do you guys always double date like this?"

    "Well, yeah." That was Terry. He had some special looking giant frothing espresso or something. Terry on espresso is cute – he talks fast and stutters now and then. I had myself an iced cappuccino with a shot of Irish Cream. Though the stuff the shop puts out isn't alcoholic, I always make sure to carry around one of those little whisky bottles to add a little of my own spunk into it. Mallory had giggled when she saw it – I knew she'd appreciate something like that, and allowed her to pour a little into her own double latte with whatever-the-fuck-she-had-in-it. Terry licked off some of the foam from his coffee from his finger. It was sexy. "Might as well. Alec's always like a third person in the relationship, he's around so much."

    "So that's how it is, huh?" Dennis had black coffee. That was it. Not even sweetener. What the fuck - why am I not that manly? "I suppose you won't mind then if I interview this third person for a while?"

    "Go right ahead, Dennis." Terry really enjoyed licking the foam off his fingers, and off of the side of the cup. Fuck, he's really good at licking. Just the – just the way his tongue comes out of his gorgeous mouth, rubbing against his bottom lip with the ring is oh god so wonderful.

    Dennis turned to me, his eyes cold, his freckles menacing on his pale face, and his blondness deceivingly angelic. My mind briefly allowed itself flashes of when he was sucking me off – mm, good times. "Please state your name, age, and occupation."

    Oh, come on. He already knew all that. "Are you serious? For real?"

    "Yes, now shut up and answer."

    "That made sense," Yeah, I was being sarcastic. However, I was being playful, and I'm fairly sure everyone at the table knew that. I drank a bit of my lovely iced coffee. "Alec Malloc. Aged twenty. Student, BIT, computer science."

    "Boxers or briefs?"

    "Commando!" There was a general moan around the table. "Fine, boxers."

    "Uh-huh. Let's see – oh! Mac or Windows?"

    "Ew. Linux."

    Terry giggled from across the table. "You have Windows on your laptop, Alec, so shut up."

    "Yeah," I rolled my eyes brat-like and sexy. "One of my laptops. Continue, Dennis, continue."

    While Dennis took time to think of a question to ask me – his cold gray eyes on me all the time – he began to lick his stiring straw very slowly and deliberately. It was mesmerizing. I don't even know why he had a stiring straw – it was black coffee. There was nothing to stir. Bastard – bastard – bastard. "If you saw someone banging your girlfriend, what would you do?"

    I looked at Mallory. It seemed very likely that this situation would occur. "Dump her sweet ass."

    Yeah, my girl giggled at that. What a bitch.

    "Do you think a threesome cheating? Because if you really are the third man, then-"

    "Enough, enough." Good ol' Terry. "You can interview him on your own time."

    "Then give me his mobile number and I will."

    Terry looked at Dennis, almost incredulously. I had to laugh in spite of myself – it was obviously me that was not going to benefit from whatever Dennis had in mind, but I don't care. It was still funny. "Feisty one you've got there, Terry."

    "Oh ha ha. I'll text you his number later, sweety."

    Dennis smiled. "Thank you darling."

    Then we all had a good laugh.

    I wish I was still laughing when Dennis called up at 2AM that night (morning, actually) wanting very much to finish his interview. "If I came over right now, would you fuck me?"
    gzople yeah, fistbump there dude. ain't whiskey rock?
  • Out of Luck

    Chapter 4: Guilt Has Never Been Sexier

    I wasn't quite sure how to respond at first. Did I hear him right? Was he serious? Was he joking – and if he is, what would happen if I took him seriously? In fact, I didn't even get a chance to let my morality question how Terry would feel about all this before Dennis became impatient and spoke again.

    "I'm outside your apartment right now, just so you know."

    "What?" This I had to see for myself. So that's how I found myself running out of my door and down the stairway to the ground floor in my pajamas. (Each building had four apartments in it, two on the first floor, and two on the second.) And then I made my way out of the building – boxers and a gray t-shirt and all, in quite brisk weather. But I didn't notice that at first. All I noticed was a rather impressive looking Dennis standing some five feet away, his phone in one hand, and his eyes wide as he watched me gape at him, unbelieving.

    Dennis walked over casually, as though he didn't just call me and ask for sex. He even smiled as he closed his cell and placed it gently in his coat's pocket, one of his eyebrows slightly raised above the other, continuing to ask me for sex, silently. However, instead of walking up to me and stopping a good one or two feet away as any normal person at 2AM in the morning would have done, Dennis continued to come at me until we bumped chests, his arms wove themselves around my body – one of them resting over my ass, squeezing lightly – and his mouth forced its way onto the sensitive area of my neck.

    It was all a little forward if you ask me.

    Taken aback, I had a few moments of heavy breathing, the steam from my breath really thick and obvious. And Dennis was moaning into my neck. Oh fuck, he was moaning.

    "Alec, Alec," It almost felt like Dennis was melting into me, purposely trying to confused my senses, to try to trick my body into returning his touches and retreating into his warmth as some sort of sanctuary from the cold surrounding me. "Ask me up. Please, just-" He paused and lifted his head up a bit, letting his lips trace up along my chip and eventually onto my own. He was a master – no doubt about it. He just let his lips hover seductively over mine, subtly touching, but never kissing. "I want you so bad."

    As if I needed proof, the hand was had been groping and squeezing my ass in the most skillful way had found its way onto my now-growing-crotch and gave the little bugger a good squeeze. I moaned. Loudly and obviously. "Ohh, you little slut…!"

    I felt Dennis giggle more than I heard him. He was just so wrapped up around me, I felt everything. Fuck. Dennis looked at me then, his eyes large and begging – his cheeks and nosed slightly pinked from the weather (and his arousal) and one of his hands had somehow found itself creeping up the back of my neck and raking themselves through the back of my hair. He had me, and he knew it.

    Somewhat roughly, and shook him off me and grabbed his wrist. We looked at each other for a while – almost hostile – until I smiled and began to pull him towards the door. "It's cold outside. Won't you come in for a while?"

    He nodded and eagerly followed me inside. I had all but managed to throw myself inside my apartment and locked the door before Dennis attacked me from behind. He had already taken off his coat – skillful bastard.

    Do you love rough making-out? Because I sure do. It's amazing, being able to smash someone else's face into your own and do everything but suffocate them under the very lust the makes both involved beg for more. So that's what Dennis and I did. We both – fuck, we just went at it, clawing and pulling and grinding our way into each other. It was a wonder we managed to remain standing. Sometime in there, my boxers fell off and my shirt was missing. Yes, I was naked; I didn't mind so much.

    It was somewhere around my fifth break for air that I finally managed to mentally signal to Dennis that it was time to do something else. I'm not entirely sure how he got the message, but he smiled mischievously all the same and pulled me off into some random direction before pushing me down onto the couch I had forgotten existed for a moment. I was completely and utterly and wondrously disoriented, and I loved it.

    Dennis jumped onto me, straddling me. He found the time to remove his shirt while I couldn't help but notice his rather noticeable bulge in the front of his rather tight pants. Was he wearing these pants earlier? I don't think so. Fuck, these are nice pants. Oh, god, they have to go. I scooted down a bit so I could be face-to-"face" with Dennis junior, kissing the front of his pants in random intervals – silent promises of what I wasn't sure I was promising.

    I felt a hand on top of my head. I looked up and saw Dennis – a shirtless Dennis – smiling confidently. His fingers once again began to weave themselves forcefully in my hair. "It's time for you to return the favor."

    And who was I to argue? My hands quickly found themselves playing desperately with the zipper, finding victory when they were finally open and Dennis's lack of underwear became stunningly obvious. I looked at him as I pulled down his pants, waiting patiently as Dennis had to pull a way for a while to get the pants the rest of the way off.

    Now let me back up a bit and allow you some insight into the deeply aroused but still functioning corners of my logical brain: I knew that I had fucked lots of guys before. I knew that I was good at it. However, since my sexual explorations usually took place under the guise of being straight, I had few chances to really allow myself to explore the way a normal gay man gets to explore – when both parties involved are bored, sexually. In my lifetime, I'd given maybe six blowjobs and exactly one rim job (though I've been on the receiving end of these quite often). And for a brief second, I was worried that my lack of experience may not give Dennis the intense sensation and appreciation of gay skill that Dennis had given me.

    But the look in his eyes told me that he wasn't too concerned about it. It was like they were saying Suck me off, Alec. I don't care if you bite down and scrape the top layer of skin off, just blow me and I promise I'll find myself squirming into levels of pleasure I didn't know exist in this world. So, PLEASE, just shove my cock into your mouth. So I did.


    I awoke the next morning to my alarm clock at seven-AM. It was Sunday, so I really didn't have to go to class. I'd just been lazy and forgot to turn off my alarm. Relieved, I sank back into my bed, reveling in the fact that I could soon surrender my brain to sleep once again. Then, however, I felt the aggravated movement of someone beside me and I remembered that I'd fucked my best friend's boyfriend last night. Yeah, awkward.

    "Fuuuuuck." It was more like a whisper-curse-sigh than anything. I ran a hand through my funky morning hair, scratching the side of my face before I brought it back down beside me. "I can't believe we did that."

    Dennis was awake and beside me. His hair was also rather morning-funky, but it didn't seem as severe as mine always was. Smirking, he rolled his way over to me and started to cuddle with me innocently, before moving his hand over my crotch like the whore he was. (We had managed to put our underwear on before sinking into our peaceful and death-like post-sex slumber, so I at least had the cotton between us. Mmmm, soft cotton.) "I can."

    "Hussy." It was said affectionately, I assure you. Light heartedness aside, however, the guilt of what I did to Terry was slowly starting to sink in. It wasn't a good feeling. And it wasn't that it was that I slept with his boyfriend – whom he had just gotten and was fairly unattached to, as far as new fucks go. If Terry would to find out that Dennis and I had had a steaming night of hot, loud passion, he'd feel more betrayed that I'd been playing the faggot behind his back rather than the fact of who I'd been playing it with (although I'm certain the fact that it was his boyfriend wouldn't make him feel any better.) I could just see the look of betrayal in his eyes now, his gorgeous green orbs, round and furious and sad all at the same time, begging me to find the words to explain to him why I hadn't mentioned the fact that I was hungry for cock all the three years we've known each other. "This is all your fault, you know."

    "It takes two to tango." Probably sensing that I wasn't exactly in the mood for some more sexual fun, Dennis removed his hand and stared at me instead. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Alec. I'd rather stick around and watch your straight-boy game and your hopeless lusting after Terry. It's cute, really."

    "How can you not feel bad about this?" I think it was an honest question. He started it, with all his interviewing and showing up horny at my apartment.

    Dennis shrugged and rolled onto his back, looking at his watch as he did so. "If I ask for something, I don't feel bad when I get it."

    I grunted. "I'm going back to sleep."

    I felt him move around, getting out of bed. "Ok. I'm going to return to my apartment to sleep. See you around."

    I grunted again, unwilling to will myself to do anything else. I'd fucked by fucking Dennis, and deep inside, all I really wanted to do was to fuck up again.


    Having a girlfriend always complicates things. They monopolize my time – time that I would have spent with Terry. They also monopolize brain cells. I swear to fucking god I lose IQ points whenever I hold a conversation with one. It's demeaning and offending and sometimes I get so sick with myself for letting my straight-male-game get as far as this.

    And then there's the sex. Yeah, I've fucked girls before. I've done the whole making-out bit, the whole eating out bit, and the whole penis up the soggy tunnel bit. Even anal with girls is worse – they're not used to it, and it's weird and awkward and all they complain is about the pain and they can't take care of both their orifices properly so it's grosser and smellier than with guys and fuck, straight-sex sucks.

    Mallory messaged me sometime during the following week, promising something special after our next date. I just ignored it and told her I was busy at school and that we'd have to wait until the weekend to do something; I took the time I gained by doing this and visited Terry. Good ol' Terry.

    When I walked in, Terry looked happy to see me. Good looking people make happiness look that much better. And here I was, fucking his boyfriend. I suck. "Hey, Alec! I haven't seen you since Saturday. Busy week?"

    Yeah, busy feeling guilty about my wild night of passionate sex with your boyfriend. "Not really. Girlfriend duties."

    "Ah, yes." As if he knew what girlfriend duties were. I wonder how I would feel if I learned that he and Mallory were fucking behind my back – oh god, how funny. "I had Dennis over the other night. He's a handful."

    "Yeah, he came off like one during coffee." Also, a mouthful. I had to look away from Terry's mirthful eyes as my brain allowed itself to indulge in the memory Dennis had imprinted firmly and sexily into my mind. Dennis was as much a master of receiving a blowjob as he was giving them. A gentlemen, he didn't force me to force down his throbbing manhood any further than what I was doing on my own. All the way moaning appreciatively and thrusting gently and stroking my head encouragingly, he even managed to remove himself from my mouth before he had a terrific looking orgasm. Of course, he blew it on my face – which made me feel incredibly slutty and wanted. Even his taste on my lips was palatable. "You know, with the interviewing."

    Terry nodded. "He seems to like you, though. I'm afraid you're going to work extra hard to scare this one off."

    Oh, I'm working has hard as I can, Terry, trust me. After recovering from his brief venture into the land of thoughtless ecstasy, Dennis had laughed at my cum-covered state and grabbed the nearest thing – my sleep-shirt – and began to wipe down my face, neck and chest sloppily, missing spots of semen near my ears and shoulder. Then, covering his mouth with mine, we had one of the most delicious make-out sessions I've ever participated in. He was even better than I remember – his passion was so encompassing, so liberating, I couldn't help but feel numbingly aroused. Does that even make sense? Fuck, I don't care, it was hot. Now down to more-or-less equal levels, Dennis's ass crack was ever-so-subtly rubbing against my raging hopeful. It was totally on purpose. I know I growled a few times before I registered that Dennis had asked where I kept the lube. "Uh-oh. Hope he doesn't like me too much. They're harder to shake that way."

    "Yeah. Otherwise I'll be left in the dust while you two run off, kissing and moaning all the way."

    Too late, Terry. Sorry. The look in my eyes must have been horrified. Luckily, Terry interpreted it incorrectly.

    "Haha, sorry Alec. Didn't mean to put that mental image of intense gayness in your straight mind. Forgive me?"

    I smiled numbly, detached and guilt-ridden. "Sure." My mind was already going too haywire to allow any new images in, however. I'd grabbed my handy-bottle of sexy sex-lotion, rubbed it all in my hands and then proceeded to massage the Hell out of Dennis's round buns, his puckered treasure, and even the underside of his balls. I can't even be sure what happened next in any great amount of detail. It was like a blur of total sexiness and desire. I know I fucked him, and I fucked him good, and he let me know he was good. And he rode me like it was his last night to live and I came so hard and loud I heard it echo back to me, like, five minutes later. (Or maybe that was Dennis again, I can't really recall.)

    Terry gave me an odd look. "You ok? You seem kind of out of it."

    "I'm in space, Terry. In space."

    My gay best friend – my incredibly sexy gay best friend who was currently dating the guy who gave me the hottest and most fulfilling fuck of my life – smiled mischievously in a way that could only be described as woman-like and evil. "Mallory really must be something, great. You look like you're in loooove."

    I stared at him incredulously and he ran off to his kitchen to get something, laughing stupidly all the way. "Take that back!"

    However, Terry was not in a kind mood today. He merely continued to chant: "Alec is in love! Alec is in love! Alec is in love! Alec…"
    Sex scenes are hard for me to write because I always go off into the fantasy without writing it down. Slow going.
  • Out of Luck

    Chapter 5: Dennis My Menace

    "I'm just saying. If it talks like a straight man, walks like a straight man, flirts like a straight man and says he's a straight man. He's a straight man." Dennis lay on my bed beside me, gesticulating drunkenly. "I know you think you're just pretending to be straight as an eventual means to bump uglies with straight-craving twinks like myself-" At this point in his speech, Dennis began to pat his stomach. "-but I think you're just trying to hide the fact that you're actually straight. It's like… like being closeted, only backwards. Twice backwards, because everything and everybody thinks you're straight anyway. One day I'll come to see you and fuck you'll be all Ew, get away, I'm straight. Because you already are straight and it'll just hit you"

    Dennis waited patiently for my response. I wasn't actually drunk – Dennis had had the same amount of alcohol I had, only his tolerance was really low and he did it on an empty stomach. So he was plastered, whereas I was just super-relaxed and contently mirthful. That weird stage in the beginning of 'tipsy' when you just noticed that your arms are feeling heavier than they did two minutes ago. But not drunk.

    Now, I hate to sound like a pervert, but I really have this great affection for cute drunken boys. They're usually cuter than normal, yeah. In fact, I have this great affection for cute boys on any sort of state-altering drug whether it be alcohol, caffeine, pot or even some of the harder stuff like heroine and meth, etc. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. In any case, with Dennis just laying on my bed next to be, completely naked, having that wonderful post-sex smell all about him, and his eyes large and incoherently shiny – well, it just gets my little heart-a-pumpin'. "Dennis. What we just did was anything but straight."

    "Oh, whatever. You can't use that. You've fucked girls, too!"

    I was silent on the matter. Mirthfully silent. I didn't really care much of what Dennis was saying – and I don't think he did either. He just liked to hear himself talk and put me down. After some mirthful sighing – because that's what mirthful drunks who are mirthfully naked next to a completely mirthfully good-looking blond do.

    Dennis, however, would have none of this. He rolled over on top of me and began to lick my check. "Come on, say something."

    But I persevered. After all, I'd given Dennis his way on more than one occasion. Today, I'd given in to him when he casually texted me asking if I wanted to fuck. I tried to say no, I really did, but Dennis would have none of that. So he came over and we drank a bit, fucked a bit, and drank some more.

    "Hey Alec? You like Terry a lot, right?" Dennis's eyes were sparkling evilly and mischievous. And they were close, because he was on my face. All the better to see his evil.

    I nodded. After Dennis figured out what game I was playing, it wasn't too hard for him to figure out why I was such long-standing friends with Terry. And then he began to dirty-talk in sex today, being all like "Fuck me like I'm Terry" and "Do me so hard, Terry will feel it" and "Pound my ass, Alec! Oh, yes! Harder! Pound my ass!" That last one really had nothing to do with Terry, but I liked hearing it all the same.

    "Then don't you feel bad about sleeping with me?"

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Come to think of it, I sounded a lot drunker than I felt. Maybe I was just trying to act drunk because Dennis's drunkenness was rubbing off on me. "I'm not the one dating him. How can you not feel bad about sleeping with me?"

    Dennis's voice was small and sheepish. It matched his adorable freckled face and his adorable button nose and his adorable gray eyes and his adorable adorablosity. "You first."

    "Weeeeell." I felt like a father starting a story to his children. My naked adorable children that I just had sex with and then fed large amounts of alcohol. Common suburban experience. "I've liked Terry a long time, but I've been fucking lots of boys for a long time, too. I guess I've gotten used to the idea, you know?" I felt Dennis nod. "Your turn."

    "Umm. You found me first. It's also profoundly arousing to fuck the guy who wants to fuck your boyfriend who also wants to fuck the guy you're fucking but the guy you're cheating on with the guy who wants to fuck the guy you're fucking also seriously enjoys fucking you. Does that make sense? It's like being the third man to the third man. Or something. I don't know. It's nice."

    "What time is it?" I looked at the clock on my desk, answering my own question. "Ten-forty-three. You should go home."

    "Let me sleep over. You haven't got class tomorrow until like, what? Two?"

    "One," I corrected. "And I plan on doing homework before that. I've got this AI project I've been procrastinating on and the second deliverable is due this Fri-"

    "-I don't care, I don't care. I don't want to go home all drunk. I'm freeloading off my brother until I can find a new apartment, and he'll be mad pissed if I come home this drunk. Plus, I need someone to take care of me in the morning. And since you're the one who fed me all this alcohol, I think it's fair to say that's your responsibility."

    So I let him.

    But let me clarify that it wasn't mushy cuddly love-coddling sleeping-with you might have in mind. It was the fight-over sides of the bed, blanket-covering war, stop-twitching-you're-driving-me-nuts and move-over-to-your-side-of-the-bed kind of sleepover. I eventually ordered him to sleep on the couch, which he did. When I woke up to pee at 2AM, he seemed sleeping well enough. Looked damned good doing it, too.

    The following morning all Dennis did was bitch and moan and puke. That boy cannot hold his alcohol. When I moved out of my bedroom to get on my computer, Dennis immediately went in my room and remained there until I kicked him out at 11:30. He told me he hated me and that he never wanted to see my alcohol giving face ever again.

    But when I visited Terry that following Saturday – AI project deliverable all submitted successfully – Dennis was there and he must have forgotten that he hated me, because he spent the entire time being relatively nice to me.

    Well, he did join forces with Terry to attack me. Dennis held me back while Terry farted in my face. It may sound gross to you, but it wasn't. I was honored to have been farted on by Terry. Imagine – I was that close to his perfect ass. Anything that comes out of that ass is similarly perfect. I dare you to challenge me on that.

    Things became awkward, however, when Dennis began to mention his current living arrangement. "I'm living with my brother right now. But he's getting kind of anxious to get rid of me. But I can't afford an apartment on my own. And all my friends already are in apartments with the max occupancy all filled up."

    "Can't you try one of those internet-roommate finding sites?" Terry was always trying to help the needy. Oh, Saint Terry the Sexy, the Perfect – fighting the good fight, crusading for perfection. "Or better yet – Alec, isn't your apartment built for two? You live there alone, right?"

    Bastard! "No. Absolutely not. My apartment is for me and me only. I have enough crap to fill it all."

    Terry laughed, totally unaware of the awkward expression I was wearing. "Haha, that's right! That's why I never go over. It's all filled with computers and books and other weird stuff. It has bad feng shui, Alec. Bad feng shui."

    "Really?" Dennis smiled innocently, with a tint of evil in his freckles. "I've never been." He paused smirking. "Can we go there now? I want to see it."

    And so that's how I began the awkward trek up to my apartment with Terry and Dennis. We were our own pride parade. Only I felt incredibly shameful.

    When we first walked in, Terry had one thing to say. "Ah! Same as I remember. Oh, wait! Is that a new computer?"

    "No. I rearranged." Just to clarify, my apartment has a living room that was approximately 13 by 13, with a small kitchen, a small bathroom, and one bedroom that was large enough to fit two beds, but was currently only holding one. The living room had a small TV, across from which was an old couch. On both sides of the TV were two junky and messy looking shelves that were adorned with books, DVDs, DVD player, Internet Box, Wireless router, a PS2, PS2 games, a sega genesis (hell yea!) and its games, one dying spider plant, and various things shoved in between. On the wall opposite the door, I had my large desk which sat three computers – one laptop and my older window's PC, and my newer PC with Windows and Linux on it, and that one had two monitors attached to it. Also on the desk were various things such as Kleenex, soda and beer cans, a few notebooks scattered on top it as well as below it and few piled books and paper with lazy diagram sketches on it. I had two more laptops in my room, but I liked to keep the desk in my room for non-computer schoolwork. So I, you know, had fewer chances to get distracted. I'd like to take this time to mention that my screensaver for my double-monitor computer was a slideshow of scantily dressed women. My carpet was brown and my walls were this weird sea-shell-yellow color that screamed of the seventies. "So yeah. This is my love nest."

    "Terry, come with me to check out the bedroom." Dennis playfully grabbed Terry's arm and lead him in my sleeping chamber. I followed them slowly.

    It wasn't that I didn't enjoy having Terry over at my apartment, it was just that… it was Dennis's idea, and I'm convinced that there isn't a single drop of morality in his bones. True to his character, when I walked into my room, he was rolling around in my sheets, giggling and pulling Terry down atop of him.

    Dennis rolled over on top of Terry, grinding into him. "What do you think, Terry – shall we have sex on Mr. Straight-Boy's bed? How hawt would that be?"

    "Unbelievably hawt." They kissed. Well, kind of made-out of my bed. I knew it was all for show, all to tease me.

    "Ok, you two. Cut it out. For real, get up." And they did. Even Dennis, who was having a hard time continuing to make out with all his giggling, anyway.

    "So Alec," Dennis was leaning off the edge of my bed, slowly standing up and walking towards me. "How's Mallory these days? If you two get married, you'll be Alec and Mallory Malloc, and that's just awkward. But still, I like the sound of it."

    "Go to Hell. Dennis. The menace. Yeah. Did you hear that?"

    But Dennis was unfazed, probably had heard it a million times since his birth. "That's what Terry calls me in throws of passion, boy, you've got nothing on me."

    Leaning against my wall, Terry while smirking silently and shaking his head as if to say You know I really don't call him that while having sex, because we have amazing sex all the time, but it was funny so I'll just stand here and looked sexily amused. And I'll be damned if he didn't succeed in it.

    Before I could even stop him, Dennis walked over to my dresser and began to look through it, earning more gleeful looks from Terry. For a second, I was jealous that I almost never made Terry look that giddy. But my jealousy was soon replaced by mortification when Dennis began to pull out some if my underwear and then proceeded to throw it mercilessly around my room. Like a fucking monkey. But before I could reach him and beat the shit out of him – maybe throw in against a wall, punch his balls, bite his ear off – he let out a spine-tingling laugh and I knew that he had reached my stash.

    "You know, Alec." Dennis pulled out my rather extensive collection of condoms and lube. "This is really impressive. I didn't know you were getting this much. Look at this – special warming lube, nice nice, flavored stuff, love lotion – and oh! Anal lube! Wow, I didn't realize you were into the butt! Maybe Terry is running off on you! Hey, not we can share butt-loving stories. Like, last night, for example, I was sitting on the toilet, using the enema like a good li-"

    "-Dennis! That's enough!" It was Terry. Despite his words, he was giggling like nothing else.

    "Yeah! Enough." Ok, lame comeback, but Dennis had no choice but to drop the lubes back into my drawer in the face of a double attack from Terry and I. "Ok, now let's get the fuck out of here. My apartment sucks."

    "Fine. But only because I have somewhere to go, anyway. Terry," Dennis looked at his boyfriend, a semi-serious expression on his face. "Mind dropping me off at… my brothers?"

    "No problem. But be warned, my little boytoy, you. You're going to miss the awesome and semi-monthly event of Terry-and-Alec-awesome-extravaganza. Last time he took me to a LAN party. This time, I'm taking him to a gay bar."

    Oh God. I forgot about that.

    "Whatever. Drop me off." Did I hear a hint of jealousy in Dennis's voice? Oh! I think I did!


    "So Terry. This may seem like a silly question. But what exactly do you do at gay bars?"

    Terry looked at me and smiled. "Pick up dudes, dude."

    "Oh wonderful." I paused and surveyed the room. It was like the bar was partitioned off into two sections – the tame section and the wild section. Terry and I were kind of standing around in the edge of the tame section, but I was at a good enough position to see the insanity over in the wild section. It was bizarrely arousing – randomly drugged up people were humping people in the middle of conversations, while making out with someone's shoulder, who was cross dressing and playing pool with a guy that had nothing on but a thong and then someone jumped on the pool table and began to dance. Insane. Not going there.

    The tame side was mostly just people getting drinks and holding a conversation that was probably at least a little mentally stimulating. But one thing that I knew – straight bars, gay bars, whatever – the good looking people were never alone for long.

    I looked at Terry. "So how come no one's hit on you yet?"

    "They probably think I'm with you." He smirked down at me. Down because I was leaning against the wall that gave Terry a good four inches over me. "And for the record, if anyone asks, just pretend you're my boy. It'll make things simpler for everyone."

    I felt a little twinge of sexual haze filling up my glass. "Are you sure Dennis won't mind?"

    "Mind? Fuck. He'd think it was hilarious."

    I nodded. Dennis would indeed think it was hilarious, but for different reasons than what Terry thought. I excused myself and went to the bathroom (scary experience, actually. Don't want to talk about it). When I returned, sure enough, some guy was hitting on Terry. I mean, he wasn't a bad looking kind of guy, but well, not good enough for Terry. My Terry.

    When Terry spotted me, and smiled nodding towards me to his tempter. "That's him."

    Mr. Hitting-on-Terry turned to look at me. He liked me, wanted me too – maybe the thought of having both Terry and I at the same time crossed his mind for a brief second, I could tell. But too bad for him, he wasn't going to get any. From either of us.

    I smiled when I returned to Terry's side, probably getting a little closer than I had been before. He said I could be his boy for the night, right? Might as well play it up. "Any problems?"

    Terry shook his head smugly, sending a strange glance towards the other man. Maybe he had said something a little strange to Terry. I don't know. I rarely do the openly-gay scene – it's too, well, easy. "No problems."

    The other man rolled his eyes. "I can read body language like a book, and I can tell you two aren't dating. If you're not interested, just say so like a fucking man."

    But then Terry closed all the distance between us, rubbing his side against mine. Deciding that I like the feel of it, I allowed my hand to snake around his waste. Yeah, eat this body language, dick wad. I pulled Terry close to me. "You and your body language can go to Hell. Back off my man."

    He still didn't budge. I don't even think he really wanted Terry that bad – he was just agitated because he thought he was being lied to. Well, he was, but that was beside the point. It was now an official battle of male pride, and I'll be damned if I lost to a loser like him. "I'm unimpressed. I'm not moving until you two make out or something. Prove to me."

    Terry was about to say something, but I cut him off. "No problem. Maybe afterwards we can fuck on the pool table. I'm always ready for a good indecent display of raging queer sex in public. Did you bring your camera with you? – this's something you'll regret not filming. Once in a life-time offer. Can you handle it? The radiation of our sexiness may just blind you."

    I felt the tell-tale signs of Terry stifling laughter next to me. It abruptly stopped, however, when the man still refused to back down. "So go at it already. Let's see this fantastic show you seem so confident in."

    I looked at Terry, half-wanting him to say something to the man in denial or something. But he never did. He just kept looking back at me with his amazingly green eyes, silently begging me for something I couldn't interpret. Since when did I get this bad at reading Terry? I used to have him down to a T.

    But what was there for me to do but do the manly thing? Without wanting to show too much hesitation to Mr. Prove-it-to-me-because-I've-got-more-manly-pride-than-a-Viking-warrior, I reached over and pressed my lips to Terry's before the latter had much more opportunity to protest.

    For the first few seconds, I wasn't sure what to do. I was overcome with this amazing sense of dizziness and relief, of nervousness and an intensely satisfying desire for more. I tightened my grip on the back of Terry's neck and angled myself a little better. Now, I hate to rub my own ego raw, but I'm a master kisser. I've had girls practically orgasm at my amazing kisses, I can wind up even the most nervous twink into putty under my cock and still pretend to be straight.

    Of course, I could tell Terry had a few tricks up his sleeve as well. We both knew that first and foremost, this was a show-off kiss. That is, we had to French in order to justify it. Terry made the first move, relaxing his lips and jaw in the most inviting way, letting his arm travel around to meet with my lower back. At the first feeling of tongue, I found myself almost out of breath. It seemed like reality had melted around me, and the whole of the universe was completely surrounding Terry's insanely flexible lips over my own, and his incredibly gentle tongue, massaging.

    For a second, I couldn't register properly what I was doing. I couldn't believe that I was kissing Terry. My Terry. Three-years Terry. Perfect in every way possible Terry. Loves-to-play-it-up-and-is-currently-moaning-in-my-mouth-Terry. It's so delicious, I needed more. I turned up the theatrics in my mouth, giving my head and neck more movement, letting myself roam outwards to lip and nip Terry's lips a bit while I let my hand slowly rub the back of his neck in encouragement. And Terry played along just dandy. He brought his other hand up to grab the side of my face and chin, his fingers gracing themselves over the tender part of my neck. Oh, he did indeed know a few good tricks.

    It wasn't long until the hand on my back ventured lower to tease and squeeze my ass. I was in awe. In response, I let both of my hands rest on his perfectly shaped ass and just began to grind the hell out of him. He groaned again, grinding back with all such a desperation, I might have blacked out for a microsecond. It was fantastic. I think a few sounds might have left my throat, I don't know.

    And then something changed in our dynamics. Before we were kissing for the ***** that wanted proof. We were enjoying it, sure, but it was the same sort of enjoyment one got from wrestling, or winning a drinking contest – with maybe a few homoerotic undertones that struck both of our fancies in ways indescribable. Ok, a lot of homoerotic undertones. But now it was different. As our kissing became more desperate, and as our hips were crushing into each other, there was a distinct feeling of for real to it. Our close proximities allowed me to feel the distinctly encouraging bump in Terry's crotch, and I knew he must have noticed my own. And for those of you who are unaware, it's an amazing sensation, the feeling of another's cock over your own. Even through layers of fabric.

    It came under my vague recognition that Mr. Watching-us-makeout-for-proof had grunted and left, this battle apparently lost. Yeah, never fuck with Alec, you'll always lose. I removed one of my hands from Terry's ass and subtly applied pressure on the hand that was currently tugging frantically at random chunks of my hair and managed to tilt my head back just enough to give myself speaking space. "T-Terry, he's gone."

    Without even opening his eyes, Terry made a discouraging sound in his throat. "No he's not." And with that, he closed in the distance and we continued to snog senseless. Only slower and sweeter this time. Like the way a fine wine goes down your throat – the fine wine you intended to save for a special occasion but decided to break out early to soothe your nerves after a rough day. Yeah, like that.

    But it only lasted for a few more seconds before Terry probably came to the realization that his excuse was gone, and he really had no good reason to make out with his straight best friend anymore. Even when he seemed content on not kissing me, however, he still felt as though it was his duty to let his breath hover ever-so-erotically over my ear as he rested his head against my own, apparently trying to recover. I, too, needed to recover a bit, but I was much more composed.

    "Alec." He whispered it more than spoke it. To be truthful, I really wasn't listening that hard. I was too fixated on the wonderful feel of his warmth against me, on my ear, his hands still resting on the semi-platonic areas of my body. Terry had always mesmerized me, and the unbearable euphoria that I'd feasted on like the glutton I am just moments ago still left a potent after-taste on the tip of my tongue to tease me with. "Alec?"

    Come back to Earth, Alec, back to Earth. "Hhyeah?" Ok, not perfect, but not bad under the circumstances. Our arousals were still rather evident.

    "That was different."

    I agreed, decided to nod instead of verbally affirm. I knew he felt it. He was still on me.

    There was a pause during which we just kind of stayed where we were. I can't really say why it wasn't awkward for us – even while doing it, I was thinking this should be really awkward but I didn't have any heart in it. Terry was the one to speak next. Even in my post-make-out-bliss-haze I knew that whatever was said next was going to surprise me, shock me. But never did I expect it to be this shocking. "Well. Now I know why Dennis said you were an amazing kisser."

    AN: Nuthin' to say, really. Nonrecursive traversals suck ass. And not in the good way. The suck-ass after explosive diarrhea kind of suck ass.

    But I'm proud to admit that I conquered the nonrecursive inorder traversal. In C! And not a segfault in sight!
  • ScribblerGeekScribblerGeek PEx Influencer ⭐⭐⭐
    nice. subscribed to this one.
  • Warning to the pious: intense smuttiness. hence, you need to prepare some paper towels beside you. and children, go back to watching your barney and don't even peek.
    Out of Luck

    Chapter 6: What Comes Around

    In high school, I was miserable. I was gay, closeted and lonely. I was popular, sure – I had the looks, the skills and the brains to get along with everyone – and I even had something of a posse. I had more girls after me than I knew what to do with, and even the female teachers let themselves flirt with me somewhat shamelessly. But I was lonely. I hated the fact that I didn't act gayer and that people would never suspect that I was secretly yearning after the lads. Even the self-loathing isolated outcasts of the school – where most of the gay crowd existed – had within themselves a strong social bond with their friends and an openly appeasable desire to get laid.

    Only there I was, lost in a never ending crowd of people that firmly believed that you were either obviously gay or strictly straight, and had little toleration for people like myself that were in the middle ground: straight-acting cock-sucker. So I did the easy thing and stayed closeted, coming out only to my parents, who I don't think actually believed me. Still don't, probably.

    And then Mark happened. Mark was this newly out-of-the-closet gay kid that was in the same year as me, and had been in the school district since kindergarten. It was a smallish town; we'd met before. I remember that in third grade, he was a tiger for Halloween because he won best-costume in the class, a close second being myself as a werewolf. I distinctly recall being picked first by him for a kick-ball team in gym class in sixth grade. I remember that in eighth grade, he scored as the lead male in the school production of Sound of Music-junior and when he came out in ninth grade, he had to switch out of my honors English class because of being teased too much.

    In eleventh grade, we were assigned lockers right next to each other. Somewhere along the line, it was generally decided that we weren't supposed to like each other – probably something to do with the English class thing – so at first, things were really tense and awkward every morning when I saw him. But since I was Alec Malloc, friend of everyone, King of Good boyish looks and proud member of the track team, things between us evened out. Well, more than evened out. I knew Mark had a crush on me. Like, a big crush. The kind of crush that if I were a real straight boy, I'd have smashed his head against his locker and tell him to stop having a fucking-obvious crush on me. But since I was a fake straight boy, I didn't.

    I found it curious that no matter how straight I seemed to obviously be, if I said the right things and made the right moves, Mark would never tire of his forbidden crush on me. He'd do his best to charm me in the best way he thought a straight boy could be charmed; I loved it. Turned me on. At first my little step of give-hope-take-hope was more of a mistake on my part – I'd accidentally say something that gay, and then notice it and immediately try to cover it up with something straight. The effect this had on Mark was amazing. I began to improve my technique with boys I'd randomly see around – at the mall, the grocery store, wherever my amazing gaydar picked something up.

    By the end of eleventh grade, I felt I had mastered my technique. I'd also managed to get my first lay – this actually had nothing to do with my straight-seduction technique. I had went on the internet and poked around until I found an older college guy to agree to teach me the ropes in a no-strings-attached kind of way. It worked well. For both of us.

    In twelfth grade, Mark's crush on me was still going strong. I was still messy with my technique, the end game always a little awkward and forced. I'd been giving and taking hope for a long time now and I was getting impatient – I wanted to fuck Mark. Like, really bad. I disliked how I couldn't just ask him for it, all casual like Hey Mark, let's fuck because I was straight and I thought that my straightness was a large part of what Mark was attracted to. But at the rate we were going, nothing was ever going to happen between us.

    I had to push things further, so I took things to another level. I pulled at Mark's sanity, his well being – I was kind to him one day, then did nothing when a bunch of my friends made fun of him the next, smiled and touched his back one day, and completely ignored him another. I pushed the living shit out of his social life, made bleeding puddles of his confidence and rubbed broken glass all in his desires. The sexual tension between us was like salt on an open wound that belonged to someone very much into masochism. He finally confessed to me, cornering me after track practice one day and practically bawling out his feelings for me. I let him kiss me – oh fuck, it was good kiss, too - pretended to be straight and offended - and went home.

    Of course, this didn't fly to well with Mark; you always have to offend them a little. He was furious with me – but he still wanted me. Probably wanted me more, actually. A week later I caught him alone and we made out. He took me to his home, we fucked. It was the most satisfying experience I had had up to then. If I remember the look in Mark's eyes – and I do, perfectly – it was just as wonderful as it was for him as it was for me. And I'm not just talking about the sex. The sex was amateur, fast and messy. It was the emotional release and mental release that mattered. Mark and I made a point to get together at least once a week until we graduated, sometimes fucking, sometimes just blowing each other. It was good practice. I think he was convinced he loved me.

    And then I went to BIT, some six hundred miles away, and I haven't seen him since. In many ways, Terry was his replacement. My new toy. My new conquest.

    "What else did Dennis tell you?" I was afraid to look at him. Afraid to breathe on him. Scared shitless that we were suddenly touching. He didn't seem mad, but I don't see why he wasn't. She should be furious. Fuck, I can't look at him. My heart began to race, I felt like I was going to die. My fingers began to tingle, and the area of the skin where Terry was leaning began to burn and sweat.

    Terry merely continued to let his hot breath creep all over my ear. I could barely think – surprised that I managed to speak so smoothly a few seconds ago. "That were you awesome."

    Oh god. That bastard. Oh god – what do I do? Help me, anyone – just come and pull me into a moving train. I'll never return. Oh god, nevermind. I can't leave Terry forever. That's just too depressing – and why the fuck isn't he mad at me? When did Dennis tell him? What else had the slut slipped? What do I do?

    The last time I saw Mark, he was on the verge of tears. Wait, no. He was actually crying. I remember his eyeliner and-or mascara running. The funny thing is, I can't remember if he was crying out of sadness or happiness – isn't that weird? It's the last memory I have of my first truly satisfying gay fuck, and I can't remember if we parted on good terms or not. I remember him saying he'll miss me, that he'll never forget me and then he said something else and began to cry. Wait, no, he must have asked me a question, and began to cry at my answer. Fuck, I can't remember.

    "That I was awesome?" I mimicked his words, unable to form words well on my own. Should I try to feign innocence? I mean, was it really that easy for Terry to accept that his straight best friend was gay with a single claim from a three-week-old boyfriend? No, no, I can't do that. I'm not in this to be closeted, I'm in this to win. Repeat it, Alec, in it to win in it to win in it to win in it to win… "Uh…how awesome?"

    "Oh, very awesome." I could hear his smile from his voice, felt it on my neck. But he didn't say anything else, instead, he lingered on my skin some more. We stood there like that for a few minutes, without saying anything. I was silent because I didn't know enough about the situation to begin to turn it in my favor, I didn't know where to begin. Terry was probably silent because he knew this was stressful for me and was curious as to how I would move next. Or something.

    I broke first. "Terry." When he rearranged his head to look at me, I froze. His face held in it an expression I'd never seen before on him. I can't even begin to describe it – it didn't seem angry, didn't seem sad, didn't seem mischievous, didn't seem playful, didn't seem calm, didn't seem blank, didn't seem affectionate. His eyes didn't seem to be begging me, rather, controlling me. How a master looks at a slave, knowing that whatever command he elicits would be completed without question or hesitation. "I don't understand."

    "It's not that difficult. I smelled you on Dennis one night and I asked. He told." Both his hands moved to rest on my chest. If he wanted to, he could easily push me away. Then again, he could easily pull me closer, too. Strategic hand-placing, Terry, very strategic indeed. I bet you can feel my heart racing, my nervous body heat increasing by the second. "That was about a week ago, maybe a week and a half."

    "You smelled me on Dennis and the first thing you suspected was that we slept together?" I wasn't sure if I was offended or not. Was my straightness really that flimsy? When had I lost control of Terry, when did I not know exactly what was going on?

    Terry shrugged, bunching his fists up in my shirt. He was taller than me by about two inches, and I found myself slightly tilting my head up to him a bit, our close proximity making those two inches seem significant. "You're not obvious, Alec. You're very clever. But you're also very stubborn, and I'm not stupid. Give me three years and I'll get suspicious. Some times you'd come over and you'd smell like sex. Gay sex. At first I thought I was just smelling my own apartment. But then I knew I wasn't. It was you."

    "It was me." My mind is broken, it seemed. I don't know if I was confirming his statement or just dumbly repeating what he said because it sounded right. I wanted to kiss him. We were in an excellent position to kiss, our faces close, our bodies still hot, our erections still minimally apparent. I wanted to grab his ass, roll it around under my palms and squeeze it until he arched into me, transferring the control he had over me with his heat. Honest this time, and selfish. "And you didn't say anything to me?"

    "I wanted you to come to me." So that's how it was. Well then. "And you just want to come in me."

    True that. At least he knew. Without asking for the proper permission, I closed the extra space between us and brushed his lips with my own. He accepted it, albeit chastely. Already in a strange state of semi-arousal and dizziness and disbelief, I felt like the room around me completely changed, time moving in intervals it wasn't supposed to. You know that feeling when you can feel the body heat of another person when you're cold? It was like that, only I was already sweating. But I still needed more. When Terry broke the kiss, however, I wasn't disappointed; there was no sense of finality to the kiss. I knew there was more to come. My suspicions were confirmed when Terry looked at me with that intense gorgeous stare of his – his pupils dilated from the lack of the light, from his arousal – and encouraged me into places I'd only ventured in my fantasies. "Why don't we discuss this more at my apartment?"

    "Yeah, ok." Yes. Sounds like an excellent plan to me.


    In his own way, Terry was furious with me. He was fed up with my pride, my lying, and my stubborn self-serving ways. When he invited me to his apartment we both had one thing on our minds: sex. Amazing sex that only three years of deception, lust and forbidden desire could ever produce. But Terry had no intention of letting me have my way. Oh, no. It was his idea of punishment to me - his idea of discipline was give me something I claimed I didn't want, but after all was said and done, enjoyed it more than I would have had he submitted to my will. Terry's plan was to confuse the Hell out of me, make me pay for those years and years I played his with mind, his libido, his very concept of what he wanted to accomplish in life as a very, very sexy gay dominant male.

    The second we walked in into his apartment, he slammed me against the wall. Terry isn't weak. He goes to the gym five nights of the week. He's six feet tall and 160 pounds of the most sculpted flesh and muscle you'll ever see. He probably had like some obnoxiously low percentage of body fat on him; it's gorgeous to see him shirtless. So when Terry slams you against the wall, you feel it – it felt like he was trying to push me through the wall. Or maybe conduct an experiment: what will break first? The wall or Alec's ribs? Sadistic fuck.

    I groaned at the unpleasant sensation of my spine bumping into my ribs. Terry, the bastard, smiled at this. In fact, he probably wanted me to groan, wanted to manifest his anger onto me in some way that he would hear it sung back to him. But then again, Terry seemed to have a plan to make all the unpleasant feelings go away. In one swift movement that could only be described as ballet-like, Terry used both of his hands to grab my own hands and raised them up to the level of my head before smashing them against the wall with the rest of my body. I was trapped – Terry's hands were large and strong, crushing my palms flat against the wall, and just to make things perfectly clear to me – about who was controlling who – Terry kissed me. Gently. I couldn't even predict his level of roughness anymore.

    Fuck, I'm in trouble. I couldn't get my mind off the strange sensation of Terry's lip ring against my own bare lips. I'd felt it in the gay bar, but now it was different. It was like the sole captor of my attention. Even the lazy heat of Terry's hands sweating or the slippery intrusion of his tongue didn't seem to hold a candle to the perfection that was his lip ring. It isn't even logical – I'm in trouble.

    I know I'm doomed when Terry leaned forward a bit and I feel the aching proof of his erection on my own in the most subtle way. I can't believe how much you can distinguish through layers of fabric, how warm it is, how you can feel it move. I know I lost it when my hips arch up to indulge themselves even deeper in the unbearably tempting heat of Terry's crotch. I can't even believe it's my voice mumbling out his name along with a string of incoherent praise and curses.

    Terry seemed to like it, however. He liked me doing things I didn't think Alec should be doing a lot. I felt him like it more, and I felt him burning up. I knew he was going to break away from our kiss to say something a second before he did – and I tried my best to prevent him from doing it. I tried to suck on his tongue, his lips, his ring. But there I was nothing I could to stop Terry.

    He looked at me. We were both panting, our faces flushed, our lips swollen. It was a good look on him. "You're such a slut, Alec. Did you know that?"

    "Ok." Ok, ok, ok. Anything you want, ok. A slut? No problem. In fact, consider it done. I probably nodded a little, transfixed on the unusually erotic sensation of Terry's baritone voice causing a very slight but noticeable vibration throughout his body. I felt it most on his crotch, still pressing religiously into mine. I moved my hips around a little, rubbing around all over him, the fibers and creases in our jeans making even more of a mini-vibration feeling. I was all up over it the feeling, and I was especially all up over the growling sound Terry made in his throat. It drove me wild, what's wrong with me? I'm in trouble. "I'm such a slut."

    "You're my slut." Terry was always quick to correct me. What a pal. "You know what I do to my sluts, Alec?"

    I shook my head. This isn't right – what am I doing? I'm supposed to be where Terry is. Not that I'm complaining too much, mind you. "Please don't."

    "What's wrong, Alec?" He was mocking me now, keeping himself semi-composed as he continued to breathe on me and grind into me. The more he spoke, the lower his voice got and the more it seemed to send sexual waves of sound all over my face, chest and dick. He still kept pressing my hands into the wall, only now he was letting his fingers tease mine, both our palms slick with sweat. "Never been fucked before?"

    No. I've never been penetrated. Ever. A finger here and there, but nothing beyond that. Terry probably knew this, too. For all the sex I had, I've always been 'on top.' It suddenly occurred to me that I probably wasn't half as experienced sexually as Terry was. My fucks were satisfying, but I'd practiced being an amateur for so long, I actually forgot that I only had a few really strong gay-sex experiences. I felt young, stupid and in over my head. "Please, Terry."

    But Terry would have none of that. All at once, he backed away from me, taking away all contact and for a second, I felt incredibly empty and cold and lonely. Even my hands remained up against the wall, seemingly in disbelief that they were now free to do whatever.

    Alas! I didn't have to yearn for long. Within seconds, Terry flipped me. I was now facing the wall, my hands pressing awkwardly to balance myself in the suddenly change of equilibrium. Terry also had a plan in mind, grabbing both sides of my hips and pulling me out a bit so he could lean into my ass, allowing me contact with his jean-covered cock again. Now, I've felt someone's hardness on my ass before. It's a nice feeling. Only now it was also making me nervous. Probably completely aware that his force and complete power to manipulate me senseless was making me hesitant, Terry pressed our bodies even closer together than before, showing me who was boss. I think I might have moaned at this point – the same kind of moan you elicit when you're frustrated.

    Terry had more interesting things on his mind. He released my hips and ordered me to face him again. I did so. Looking at Terry again really did wonders for my confidence. This was Terry. God Terry. Saint Terry. Perfect Terry. Sexy Terry. About-to-fuck-me Terry. It was all the same, wasn't it? Wasn't this what I'd been waiting for? Terry sex? Hell yeah it was. No pain, no gain, Alec. Yeah.

    Once I realized this, things were at an equal level for a while. We took of our shirts and found ourselves draped over the couch we had so often sat on and watched TV. Back with the realization of who I was and who I was being sexual with, I found in me the courage to do all sorts of cool things – like play with Terry's nipples. With him pressed up against the couch and trying to get me to straddle him, I had a very clear shot of Terry's nipple buffet. Choices, choices. Left or right? I chose the left.

    Terry approved of my choice. But he still wouldn't let go the idea of him owning me in some way. As he let out this strange little choked thing of a moan, he grabbed the back of my neck and massaged it, successfully making it very difficult for me to move away from his nipple. This didn't bother me. In fact, I enjoyed him tugging on those sensitive thin hairs right at the bottom of your hairline. I enjoyed it so much, I made a point of mutter a "…yessssss…" right into Terry's nipple to which Terry replied with a single utterance of my name. My name. Fuck! Fuck, it was so hot. My erection reached a new level of arousal – it went from greedy whore to painful aching beast. The pants needed to go.

    And after an interesting and impromptu wrestling match on the couch, Terry and I found ourselves pantless. And boxerless. And altogether really quite frankly and honestly butt naked. Terry was lying lengthwise across the couch, his head rested on one of the arms. I was sitting on top of him, one of my hands up next to his head and grabbing his hair, the other hand resting atop his chest, rubbing all around his nipple, and then over to grace over his subtle and silky black chest hair, and then back. (I'm really obsessed, if you can't tell, with the feel of Terry's chest. I've been looking at its perfection from a distance for so long, and now that I can touch it, oh fuck, I'm indulging myself.) We were also kissing. Some kisses long and sweet, others short and desperate, and whatever variations that happened to come between those. Yeah, we were going to drag this one out.

    Another key thing about our current position was that Terry's cock – hot, throbbing and incredibly erect – was lightly touching very anxiously my virgin backside. I could feel the heat of it on my butt cheeks, and if I moved right, I could get it to slip a little inside my crack, just so that it was lightly brushing against my untouched and sensitive hole. It was a foreign feeling, but I guess I liked it – I liked the way Terry hissed my name when I made special effort to move my cheeks around on it, liked the way the tip of Terry's cock was leaking the slightest bit of pre-cum and the way that it rubbed off a little on me, and the cool wetness that it left behind. I also liked the way my dick was rubbing against his stomach. His toned stomach. I liked the way my own pre-cum was getting a little mixed up in his treasure trail. Yeah, I was just liking it. Terry was too, I think.

    I needed release. The need of it overcame my thoughts, and suddenly the idea of Terry pounding my ass black and blue didn't seem like a bad idea. I broke away from our kiss. "Terry."

    He looked up at me. Fuck, he has gorgeous eyes. My arousal seemed to get even more intense – if even possible. Terry looked ten times sexier lying there on the couch, looking up at me, than he ever seemed before – if even possible. "Alec?"

    "Are you really going to… fuck me?" When I said those last two words, I distinctly felt Terry's erection twitch a bit against my ass.

    He nodded, a small smile playing out on his abused lips. "Until your voice goes hoarse from screaming my name."

    I let the hand in his hair massage his skull. Our skin was burning against each other, our sweat making us move against each other easier. "You're mad at me."

    "Furious." He confirmed, still smiling. "And I'm going to enjoy fucking you raw. It's your punishment. I'm going to fuck you as if combining all the fucks we could have had if you weren't so falsely-straight into one gigantic fuck." My expression must have been really strange, because Terry let out a low, evil and humorless laugh. "I'm not going go easy on you, Alec."

    I was speechless. And apparently this was Terry's cue to sit up and very casually nod off in the direction of his room. "Shall we?"

    "Oh." My mind was broken, again. "Kay."

    Terry, apparently, had this all planned out in his mind. Extensively. He had me get on all fours at the edge of his bed so that Terry could stand at the edge and get excellent access to my goods. He spread my legs apart so I was all exposed and cold and humiliated and anxious. And tense. With my ass in the air and unable to see what was going on behind me – fuck, my nervousness returned. To try to make myself feel better, I began to pump my own dick, but Terry told me to stop, so I did. I was still aroused like nothing else – Terry moved around in his room behind me, making sounds, and I would feel this strange surge of anticipation and lust shoot through me. I heard him pop open the top of something that was probably lube. A few seconds later, I felt this cold dripping sensation right above my asshole.

    The temperature made me twitch. "Fuck, Terry. That's cold."

    I heard him smile behind me as he gave a snort of laughter. Within seconds, my mind was somewhere else again – on the sensation of the cold lube letting gravity take it dripping past my asshole, then the feeling of one of Terry's fingers slide down over my extra-sensitive flesh. I know I moaned – I heard myself through my teeth. It was this weird sort of moan that sounded like fuck and yess at the same time. Fyuex! Things went on like this for a few more seconds. And then Terry's finger began to press on my hole. Like it wanted to get inside, go figure. He pushed harder; it went in.

    "Jcchgz…?" Yes, sir, that's my question, and I want an answer now. I've been fingered before, in fact, I do it to myself quite often. But Terry's finger felt different. Like, good different. And let my clarify that the good-different wasn't because he was touching my prostrate, because we wasn't yet. The good-different was like… I don't even know. Just goodness.

    And then he found my prostrate and it was like goooood and wow and Terry did it again and I wanted him to do it again, so I moved in a way that I hoped would encourage him to do it again, and he did do it again, and I wanted more, so I –

    It wasn't long before Terry was finger-fucking me with three fingers. The second had gone in and I was fine, and the third went in and it hurt considerably, but then the prostrate thing with the wow happened and all was well. Every time his fingers shoved their way into my mysterious cave of pleasure, I made sure to make these little sounds of encouragement to him. Because I definitely didn't want him to get discouraged. Things like "Unph!" and "Terry" and "Yes" etc. But all good things must come to a stop, and so did this.

    Terry pulled his fingers out, sneering when he did so. I was aroused like nothing else, and when I turned around to look at Terry, I could see that he wasn't too far behind me. In fact, I think he might have been getting impatient. He sneered at me and it turned me on. O god, cruelty is turning me on – Alec is broken, let's fuck him until he works again. "If things were your way, I'd be fisting you by now, you gaping whore." He slapped my ass. Oh god arousal sex now please. "But I think I've been patient enough." He reached for a condom and opened it up. "I going to ram you wide open, now." With one hand on his dick, he slapped it against my ass three times before putting his concentration back over to putting the condom on his dick. His large, long, and very scary looking dick. Oh god, I'm going to die. "You can scream bloody murder and I won't stop. In fact, it'll just make me want to do you harder." Wow, Terry's mean. Like, really mean. Like really really – oh god, he's putting lube on his condom-covered shaft and is now jerking himself off a bit. That's so hot, super sexy yeah. That's so – oh my god the head is right at my entrance. I want to go home. It smells like lube like nothing else in here right now. I want my mom. Wow I'm breathing fast and – oh fuck! "God, Alec. I've wanted you so bad for so long now."

    I felt one hand on my hip. Terry pushed in. The head was in. Oh god, oh god, he's pushing in harder and – "FUCK!" It was in. Like ouch. Like, gigantic crap kind of ouch.

    But Terry wasn't sharing my pain. "Fuck, yes, Alec. That's so good. You're – mm – so tight." And then he started to move. Like, not even courtesy second or anything.

    "Terry, fucking – wait!" That was me, ass in the air obediently, my fists clutching the Terry's sheets desperately. Painfully.

    "Take it," He didn't even slow down – and, let me tell you, he was going kind of rough. Like, right away. Didn't even want to build up to it. He just kind of shoved it in and began to pound away at my virgin ass brutally, grunting in his sexy and low sexy Terry sexy way and his – oh god, this is feeling good now, ok Terry, good boy. Good job. You may continue.

    Yes, I can feel it now. The good. The very good. That familiar sexual good you don't think could get better but it does anyway. "Fuck me, Terry…!" Our skin is slapping together every time he slams into me. Every time I hear that sound, I lose another bit of my sanity. Bytes of sanity. Kilobytes of sanity, right out of the window. That's data leakage like fuck. More, please.

    "Yeah," He managed to grunt out, clearly enjoying himself. I couldn't hate him for it. I was loving it, too. Even the pain. I was even loving the pain. "Beg for it. Scream my name."

    Kinky dominating bastard! So I did. I begged for it so bad, I found myself begging myself to keep begging for more. I'm usually not loud during sex – but fuck, I was really bringing down the house with Terry. The usual grunts of "God" and "Yes" and "Fuck" contained, I didn't want to let Terry down – so I raised my volume and upped my desperation and a whole bunch of slutty sounding things like "Fuck me, Terry" and "So good! God, Terry!" and "Make me beg" and "Terry, yesss!" and "You're killing me" and maybe "God, Terry, harder" and so on and so forth came flowing from my mouth.

    Terry seemed to like this. I mean, fuck – I don't think I've ever fucked anyone as hard as he's fucking me right now. Sometime not too long ago, he had reached over and grabbed a chunk of my hair, yanking it back every time he thrust in. It made everything so much more confusing and desperate. He was a master at this, and I just didn't know what to do except ask for more – and Terry wanted me to ask for more. He was practically begging me to beg him for more. Every three or so of my skankish lines, he'd say his own little greedy things like "That's right" and "Alec's tight virgin straight-boy ass is so hot around my cock" and "You like this? God, you fucking whore" and "Beg for it!" and "Alec – fuck!" and so on and so forth. It was downright chaotic.

    Sexual pleasure is one of those strange things where once it builds up to a certain point, it feels like it can self sustain itself, but at the same time, every time you thrust into someone, or someone thrusts into you (as I'm finding out) this equilibrium is aggravated, and all you can think is how much you want more. Sustaining the pleasure isn't enough, it's always more, more, more! And you can feel it rolling up inside of you – a little ball of sexual energy and you start devoting all of your body's energy and sanity and focus into the growth of that ball of sexual energy. Possession, basically. All you want is to get it out of you, but at the same time, want it to keep growing. Insanity, I tell you, insanity.

    I couldn't help it. I began to jerk myself off again. There was nothing Terry could do and yell at me to make me stop. I needed release more than I needed oxygen. It was actually hard to keep balance on one hand - what with Terry's pounding massacre of my ass and all – but where there's a will, there's a way. And fuck, did my hand find the way.

    And it didn't take me long. Maybe seven, ten strokes was all it took. Excuse me while I take some time to orgasm. Oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck... "…Fuck, TERRY!"

    (Orgasm time)

    When I regained awareness, Terry was still pounding away at my ass. It still felt good. Really-lazy-fantastic-fuckingly-good. To encourage him along, I began to say things like "C'mon, harder!" and "Do it, Terry, fuck me!" and "I want your cum in me!" (which in retrospect was ridiculous because he was wearing a condom). And Terry came. Like, roar-came. Like yanked my head back as far as it could go, slammed his hips into my ass as far as physics would allow it and yelled something incoherently sexy out sort of coming.

    I've never had anyone orgasm in me before. I was fascinated by it. I could feel Terry's cock pulsate in me. Let me repeat that. In me. I could feel all the desperation in his heat, his muscles and his breath. With a few lazy last few pumps, Terry pulled out, pulled his condom off, tossed it randomly away (in a trash can, I hope) and just collapsed beside my on the bed.

    My ass was still in the air. I hadn't moved, and frankly, I didn't feel like it. I thought it was comfortable and relaxing, what with all my head pushed in effortlessly on his sheets, my arms relaxed and stretched out in front of me, and the suddenly cool air doing wonders to cool down my sweaty and exposed body. I turned my head slightly so I could see Terry.

    He was lying on his bed, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy but regular. He looked good, as always. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and noticed me looking at him and stared at me blankly for a few seconds as though he was lost. But then he smiled. You know, that tired smile people give after excellent sex. "Alec." He paused and inspected me. How my ass was still in the air. I wasn't embarrassed; I was too tired to be embarrassed. He let out a little tired sexy laugh. "Hold on, stay still."

    As you wish. "Kay."

    He got up off the bed with renewed energy and grabbed some tissues from atop his dresser. He turned towards me and began to dab my asshole. Which was still very exposed and gaping at this point.

    "You're pretty lubed up." He explained, taking the tissues and gently began to clean my ass of any excess lube, copping a grope or two or my cheeks while he was down there. He even poked my very sensitive post-orgasm balls, and it made me pull away for a second. He made up for it my rubbing the outside of my thigh. His next words were more of a sigh. "Fuck, that was good."

    I nodded in agreement. Rather, I tried to nod, but his bed was in the way, so I mumbled a quick little "Yeah" out instead.

    With a quaint little slap to my ass, Terry returned to the bed. "You can take your ass down, now."

    Oh, right. Slowly, I walked on all fours to a random side of Terry's bed were I slowly stretched myself out so that I was on lying on my stomach. My ass was a little sore, a little stiff. Didn't want to make it angry. You know. "You, sir, are an ass abuser."

    He looked proud. How evil. In fact, he reached over and gave my ass a light slap. It didn't hurt, but it made a fair amount of noise. I was tired. In both a statement of ass-protection and fatigue, I reached over and pulled Terry's blanket over me.

    Terry let out a laugh. A low, tired and sexy laugh. "That has your cum on it."

    "Nothing I haven't slept in before." Well it's true.

    "You're staying the night?" Did he sound nervous? Or cautious? I can't tell. My Terry reading skills have sucked of late, and I'm too tired to even try. Post-orgasm tiredness is potent, let me tell you.

    I turned my head so I was facing away from Terry. "Yeah."

    "Ok." He left the room. A minute later, I heard his shower turn on. Soon after that I must have drifted off into sleep – Terry's sheets were really nice, must be expensive or something – because I found myself being pulled out of sleep when I felt Terry join me in bed sometime later. We didn't cuddle. I felt one of his hands drape themselves over my lower back and onto my ass. In the wee hours of the morning, I became aware of his shoulder against mine. But no cuddling.

    When I awoke the next morning, Terry's room was bright. It must have been late morning, or early afternoon. Still on my stomach, I opened my eyes and became aware that someone was still in bed next to me. It wasn't Terry.

    Dennis was sitting on top of the covers, reading a book silently. When he noticed I was awake, he looked over at me and smiled innocently. "Good morning, Alec! Heard you had a rough night."


    This story got really smutty, didn't it? Fuck. Horny reader, you!

    I heart Mark. Do we still have any Marks out there?

    scribblergeek dude, here's a glass of scotch to that.
  • Out of Luck

    Chapter 7: Pride and Pride

    Dennis smiled at me, his gray eyes sparking with something that might have been pure evil. He reached over and ruffled my hair a bit. Needless to say, I was a little disoriented. Why was he here? I mean, not that he wasn't a fully functioning human being with the ability to show up wherever he wanted – but why? Did he show up at Terry's apartment out of habit, or did Terry call him and ask him over or did he know all along what Terry had planned on doing to me or what? Fuck. "I need to take a shower."

    But Dennis waved his finger at me, shaking his head like I was a child. Fuck, I probably am child. Terry seems like the unexpected type to be a pedophile, which mikes him prime for the job. Did that make sense? "Terry told me not to let you out of my sight."

    Fuckin' A! I smell. My ass hurts. There's strange leakage coming out of my ass. I smell. I slept in my own cum. I need to shower. "Then come with me." God, I'm such a slut. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

    Alas, this was probably what Dennis was going after all along. He really should have just asked for it like a normal person. A simple may I please join you in the shower can't have lead anyone astray. With a nod and smile, Dennis threw off the book he was probably just pretending to read off on the bed somewhere, and practically pulled me off the bed. He's stronger than he looks. Or maybe I'm just weak. Fuck, there goes my self-confidence. "Anyway," Dennis explained as he pulled me into Terry's bathroom. I was already quite naked, so all I had to do was stand there and watch the blond before me disrobe. It was a good show. Oh, how my ass aches. He turned on the shower and turned to me as he waited the hot water to come in. "Terry doesn't want you to leave before he comes back from his job. So I can't leave you alone." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "So how sore are you?"

    I wanted to say something like shut up you cock hungry weasel and step aside so I can cleanse myself or maybe something like here, bend over and I'll show you but instead I just settled for: "It hurts to walk. I have a waddle."

    Smiling – obviously pleased with my pain – Dennis grabbed my arm and lead me into the steaming hotness of the shower, soon following me after. Now don't get me wrong – Dennis has an amazing body. Clothed, naked. Doesn't matter. He's hot – I wouldn't have fucked him if he wasn't. But I was just too tired, too awkward and too much in pain to really admire the hot water running down his body, turning his pale flesh an aggravated shade of pink in the heat, his blond hair darkening and smoothing itself down on his face. Yep. Didn't notice any of that.

    Apparently sympathetic to my pain, Dennis began to wash me. He started at the top, lathering up my hair in shampoo that smelled like sugar cane and lilies, finishing off with raspberry conditioner. "It's Andrea's. Terry uses that head-and-shoulders stuff. Massive dandruff issues, you know." I was barely listening to Dennis as he spoke. His words seemed to flow over me like the water, into the drain and forever forgotten. He grabbed some girly looking body wash – also probably Terry's room-mate, Andrea's - and began to rub it slowly and meticulously all over my chest.

    It felt crazy nice. His hands were like, making love to my shoulders, my neck, my collar bone… Oh god. It was fun to watch him, too. His eyes followed his hands on my body with such an adorable look of concentration in his eyes – oh fuck, I can't be this horny. I'm too sore to have sex. I just woke up. I've got homework to do today.

    Putting more body wash on his hands, Dennis let his eyes travel to my own as he closed the space between us so he could reach around to wash my back. With his lips hovering just centimeters from my own, he slowly let his hands wander down further and further until they were on my ass. And wow, did my ass get a thorough cleaning. With our chests and dicks rubbing together, slick with soap, Dennis's hands just worked my cheeks over. He even let a finger or two slide over my hole, gently removing whatever Terry hadn't managed to clean off last night. I hissed, because you know, it was a sensitive area at the moment. It wasn't all pain when he touched. It was that strange good-pain you get when you let your fingers tickle over a new scrape or something.

    Deciding he was done with that particular part of my body, Dennis kissed the side of my cheek before backing away to get more soap. He then kneeled down. Like, his face was at the same level as my cock kind of kneeled down. Apparently, this was to wash my legs – which honestly, I really didn't think needed that much cleaning, but it felt good so I allowed it anyway.

    "Terry was right. You are a greedy slut." He was referring to, I think, my semi-erect penis. He was, after all, looking right at it. I vaguely wondered how much Terry told Dennis what happened last night. I also vaguely wondered if it bothered me, Terry telling someone else how thoroughly he fucked me.

    "No one's perfect," I muttered, enjoying how Dennis was looking at me from cock-level. It the same kind of look he would give me if he was actually giving me a *****. Oh god, fantasy time. Shower blowjobs – fantastic idea.

    My little fantasy got even worse when Dennis smiled erotically and nuzzled my dick. His lower lip dragged a bit on my balls. His nose in that place where the dick ends and the balls start. My semi-erect dick became considerably more erect. Oh god, heaven. His words were like sugar to my coffee. "I disagree."

    Not to disappoint, but that was as far as it got. After making sure I was soap-free, Dennis turned off the shower and gave me a towel. He let me dry myself, which I was able to do quite well, thank you.

    Awkwardness gave itself a new meaning when Dennis and I walked out of the shower in naught but our towels and Terry was standing there, looking impatient. Dennis only laughed and walked over to pat his boyfriend's stomach affectionately before walking away somewhere, leaving me to my own devices. The expression on Terry's face wasn't angry. It was just impatient – as though he was completely unsurprised that Dennis and I had showered together after our night of amazing cherry popping sex – like he had gotten home a while ago and didn't like waiting for us to finish our shower. "Hey, Alec."

    "Hey." I'm bashful, tehe! Am I blushing? Oh I think I am. I fucking hate myself. I'm going to slit my wrists when I get home.

    Then Terry leaned in and kissed me. Oh, sweet sweet torture, what am I going to do? Except kiss back. Because I've got that one covered. I think I gave in too easily. Maybe it was because I was all cold from being wet and in the hallway in naught but a towel. Maybe it was the seductive warmth of Terry's large hands wrapping themselves around my torso. Maybe it was the inexplicably sexy tingling sensation I got from his unshaven stubbles. But whatever it was, I think I gave in a bit too easily, letting myself submit to his tongue, his lips, this warmth. Oh, fuck. It's so early, and I'm so horny, and oh so sore.

    "Oh wow," It was Dennis, returned from where he went, all clothed and refreshed looking. He was also holding some clothes in his hand – my clothes, the ones that had been lost sometime last night. "You guys are the sex."

    Terry's low and obnoxiously sexy laugh just penetrated me. It made me shiver. That was actually mostly from the cold, but it's seemed to be brought on by his laughter. I'm losing it. Alec's going insane. What day is it? I don't even know! My head found itself in that nice warm and safe area next to Terry's neck, on his shoulder. My wet hair must have been really cold on his skin but he didn't say anything.

    Rolling his eyes, Dennis handed me my clothes. "Anyway, these are for you. You look like a drowned puppy right now. Get dressed."

    So I did. When I returned out to Terry's living room, Dennis and the beast (Terry) himself were casually sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and watching commercials. When they noticed me, they both smiled in a way that could only confuse me. How was this not awkward? Between the three of us, we'd cheated, fucked, lied and fucked some more. How could they be ok with it? There was something they weren't telling me.

    "Hey guys," I started off. Don't want to rush into things. "What the fuck?" Ok, I failed.

    "Have a seat," Dennis patted the area of the couch between him and Terry. Suspicious but altogether liking the idea of being sandwiched between the two sexiest men alive, I took a seat. Actually, I'd quite honestly forgotten that my ass had been drilled last night, so I was unpleasantly surprised to be reminded when a sharp pain made it self known when I sat on the couch. I didn't make a sound, but I knew my facial expressions must have indicated discomfort, because Terry and Dennis laughed. The bastards. Heartless, both of them.

    "You guys are fucking crazy," That was me, being bitter. And sore. And aroused. And feeling like a drowned puppy. "Start talking."

    Dennis made a node towards Terry, indicating that it was his duty to do the bulk of the talking. When Terry acknowledged this, I could feel Dennis relax beside me, one of his hands falling on my thigh. Terry cleared his throat, looking at me. Fuck, he always looks good. "I already told you about me suspecting you and Dennis were fucking. It really was natural conclusion for me to make – I'd long had my suspicions you were gay, and you and Dennis really seemed to get along well, and fuck, Alec. When I asked Dennis, he confirmed my suspicions."

    "He was mad at first," Dennis interjected merrily. "But then I explained to him about how we met before him and I were even dating. The straight-ness. The blowjob in your car. Your awesomeness." He snickered at that last part, as though fondly recalling a good memory. He didn't seem to realize how big a deal this was for me. Fuck.

    Terry smiled the same way. Although I really don't know why. He wasn't there. He had no memory of the awesomeness. Fucktards, all of them! "Right. But then I realized that this was really good news. Not only did I have the official confirmation that all my gay suspicions about you were correct, but I had an excuse to give you the roughest fuck of your life. As punishment."

    "Yes. Because we've both discussed it and decided that you're a manipulative jackass." Dennis seemed to think about his words for a second. "But you're also sexy, so we thought we'd give you another chance."

    They looked at me, waiting for me to reply. When it was obvious I wasn't going to do anything but sit there and gape at them, Dennis let the hand on my thigh travel obviously up to my crotch. Oh God, my semi-erection hasn't left. What with all Terry's kissing and Dennis's groping and hand-on-thighing and oh, fuck. He cupped it, squeezing and rolling his palm around a bit until I shivered with sexual happiness. Then he backed away, looking content.

    Terry – who had been watching Dennis's little affair with my penis – managed to point my attention to his own little bundle of enlarging arousal when he subtly-but-paradoxically-very-noticeably reached down and shifted his crotch around. I'm going to die. If Terry gets to pounding my ass again, I'm going to die. My colon is going to turn inside-out, I'll never be able to sit again. The shame! I already can't walk. Fuck, fuck.

    I must have been staring all transfixed like at Terry's cock, because when I managed to force my eyes back onto Terry's perfect green orbs, I noticed he had a distinctly aroused smile on his face. Fuck. Terry used the arm closest to me to reach around and rest on the back of my neck, his hand briefly moving up to ruffle my hair around, making me look even more like a drowned puppy than I felt. The movement of my wet hair made me shiver, even though I was starting to feel a little overheated from my arousal. "Greedy, greedy Alec. Always asking for more." I felt pressure on the back of my neck, pulling me down, leading me right to Terry's abusive dick.

    A slight panic rose in me. "N-no." It wasn't that I wasn't in every way imaginable in love with Terry's penis. It was that, well, fuck. I don't want to start to die this early in the morning. Not to mention I think Terry's being a little bitsy too liberal with calling me greedy. I'm not the one pulling someone down on my cock at the moment. But Terry didn't really care about what I had to say, and after my face was successfully smashed into his crotch, I really didn't either.

    Terry had pants on. But I could still, you know feel it. I could feel its warmth, its hardness, its smell. I felt dizzy. At first it was a good dizzy, then I realized it was a bad dizzy. I don't know, maybe sucking cock will make it go away. I don't know, but it seems like a good idea in any case.

    So there I was, unzipping Terry's pants, reaching in and pulling him out – all the while with Dennis sitting next to me, watching like it was his favorite porno. Asshole. Way to… not save me. Now, cock on the tongue is a nice feeling. It's a neutral taste, maybe a little salty when the precum starts flowing, but altogether not unpleasant. I mean, to really appreciate giving a blowjob, you have to appreciate what it feels like to receive one. And god knows I've received plenty. You feel everything – every bump on the tongue, every drop of saliva, every puff of breath. When you're giving it, you feel a lot of things to – the simultaneously soft flesh of the penis, the smell of it, and every movement said penis makes. And in this particular case, Dennis's hand on my back, rubbing it and encouraging me along. I smell of dick is wonderful. Even the ache in your jaw.

    I think I blacked out. Somewhere between Terry's hands grabbing my head and pulling it with increasing pace up and down, Dennis reciting something incredibly sexy and encouraging behind me, and my own desperation manifested orally on Terry's abusive rod – somewhere between all that, I became aware that Terry had released his load into my mouth, the salty, bitter and strange warm liquid into my mouth. After a few seconds of post-orgasm bliss, Terry completely released his death-like grip on my head, and as if on some reflex, I completely straightened up, a hand on my mouth and my mind occupied on trying to figure out if I liked the taste of that much ***** in my mouth at once. And I was trying to catch my breath. My ears were ringing. I felt simultaneously confused, completely satisfied and unpleasantly violated. It's complicated.

    I became aware of Dennis pulling me down on him, so that he was more or less holding me, my back leaning against his stomach, my head rolling lazily on his shoulder. I couldn't catch my breath. I vaguely recalled being concerned; it didn't seem important.

    "Excellent," That was Terry, trying to catch his down breath. He looked gorgeous. Like. Post-orgasm hotties are ten times hotter. I could still taste Terry all in me, a little bit running down the side of my mouth like the whore I am. Oh fuck, I'm still aroused. I've seriously got more wood on me than entire brazilian rain forest. I'm about to die with something I've never felt before but decide I really like when Terry looks at me, sees me, visually rapes me and smiles his sexy post-orgasm smile. "Fuck you two are cute like that."

    And without further adieu, he unzipped my pants and just – well, fuck – went at it. I mean, I hate being a pushover. I'm sore, I'm out of breath. I don't feel mentally there all the way. But I tried. It was my last ditch effort to save my sanity. My comfortable, old and in-control life. But Dennis had trapped my arms in his own, and Terry had a firmly sexual and dominating hold on my thighs. I wasn't going anywhere until he was finished with me. Well, until I was finished, I guess.

    This is it. It really is. The death of Alec as I know him. And fuck. Dying never felt so good. I never did get a chance to catch my breath from before, and now – well I was fucking having hyperventilation issues. Lightheadedness. My voice sounded cracked. Maybe it was from all the moaning and cursing I was doing. I don't care.

    I'm in over my head. I'm this stupid amateur in this ocean of experts like Dennis and Terry and fuck am I screwed. Just so, so thoroughly screwed. The way Terry's tongue is outlining the underside of my cock, the way his hand is massaging my balls, the way he pays extra attention to the head, letting his tongue just melt all over and everywhere. I'm so slick I can't tell where Terry has been and where he hasn't. His saliva, my sweat, it didn't matter. I was burning up. Dennis's mouth was sucking on my ear, letting his hot breath all down my neck and shoulders. I was tense, my obsession caught in my throat, my muscles straining against themselves and against Dennis, my nether regions crying and begging to be freed of their demons. I'm dying. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!

    I orgasmed harder than I remember ever orgasming to a blowjob before. Even after that initial burst of pure mindless bliss was over and you actually come in realizing that you're spurting your load into someone's mouth, I got this feeling of pure weightlessness. Of peace. I had died, and this is heaven. Fuck, or Hell. It's too early to tell.

    Afterwards, I found myself in completely relaxation against Dennis. I felt his arousal behind me. I didn't care and was determined to let the bastard suffer. I don't think I have much to give right now, anyway. I hate not being the ones to call the shots. I felt used. This has to stop.
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