I was reading the other day about some guy who lost his cherry. He was so green he just didn’t know what was happening to him. My heart – and my dick – went out to him. You see I was raised in a community where guys were guys and gals were gals and there was no way you could switch vowels. I mean take the ‘a’ out of one and put it into the other. Boys of my age went out with girls they met in Sunday school but never fucked them, jerked off secretly, and never lusted after other boys. That was called sodomy and you were some kind of pervert if you coveted a guy’s dick or ass instead of a girl’s pussy. And even that was frowned upon. Especially if you dared milk the cow before you bought it. I tell you I really identified with those two guys in ‘Broke Back Mountain.’
Still that didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate Stuart Dean’s butt. Particularly when it filled out his shorts as he took a lunge forward when we were playing basket ball or something. I really envied him that butt. It was firm and round, not flat as a pancake like mine. Of course I couldn’t know then that my dick was in a league of its own and would one day have many a horny hunk lick his chops over it.
Stuart and I were what was known as buddies. That meant we hung out together, went to ball games together, drank a few beers and took girls out on dates together. Then we would go home and have wet dreams about each other. At least I did. I loved it when he put his arm round my shoulder or gave me a bear hug when we hadn’t seen each other in a while. I also had a boner whenever I saw him under the shower but I hadn’t really thought of us as an item or let my hands or my dick stray.
Then one day we were playing ball on some waste land which backed onto a motor mechanic’s workshop. I’d noticed his butt a few times too when I’d passed by on my bicycle although he was much older than me. Maybe as much as me and Stuart put together. Which would be thirty-seven. Once he’d even pumped up my tire and I’d had erotic visions of him doing the same to me ever since. He always wore a kind of washed-out windcheater. Even in summer. It may have cheated the wind but it sure as hell didn’t fool me. My sex-hungry eyes swept over his expansive chest like wind shield wipers. Especially as he always had the thing half-undone. Of course I was interested in the half I couldn’t see. Every time he bent down I had horny glimpses of his powerful pecs and I was dead sure he had an ab-track I could slide my tongue down and surf away to my dick’s content.
Anyway the long and the short of this story is that Stuart and I sent the ball sailing through the side window of a car parked outside his workshop. Unfortunately the window was closed at the time. There was a nasty sound of shattering glass and Mr. Mechanic came out looking even nastier. I found out later his name was Clay Newton. He asked us what the fuck we thought we were doing, as people tend to do in such circumstances, and Stuart turned to run. I, however, stood my ground. The worst he could do to us was beat our butts with the baseball bat and I quite liked the idea of that. In fact that was the first thing he threatened to do. It gave me quite a boner I can tell you.
Then he told us to come inside and wash some cars to help pay for the damage.
Like innocent lambs to the slaughter we followed him inside. There was no air conditioning so it was hellish hot in there. He hung his windcheater on a nail and handed us some cloths and buckets.
“You dudes better take some of those expensive duds off before you get down to work,” he said.
An alarm bell went off in my head but I didn’t say anything. I was too busy looking at his terrific torso and trying to keep my knees from wobbling. He was an honest-to-God he-man hottie.
“Come on,” he said. “Just to encourage you I’ll take my jeans off too. Get you started.”
I couldn’t believe all this was happening although I had a half idea where it was leading.
For a moment I thought he was going to be butt naked under his jeans but he was wearing structure boxer-briefs. The kind that stretch across your crotch and grasp your thighs. The kind you see in all those adverts. Only these were better. They were snow white and silky smooth and contrasted with the muscled brownness of him. They also set off his full package. Balls to the right and dick to the left. Both portions on the hefty side. As I said before he was some hunk of a hottie and he knew it.
“Come on guys,” he said. “Show me what you’re made of or are you just a pair of pussy faggots.”
I stepped happily out of my jeans and removed my shirt. I folded both neatly over a car hood. I have a nice tight little torso and wanted to show it off. Stuart was not so forthcoming.
“I’m not wearing underwear,” he said. “Just a jock strap. I was working out.”
“Get undressed,” Clay ordered, “Or I’ll be working you out of your jock strap too.”
Stuart began to whimper. Maybe my half-idea had joined his half-idea and he had a whole idea what was in store for us. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth but I didn’t think he would be able to handle Clay’s big dick. Nonetheless fear won over shyness and he took off his pants.
Once again I got a sneak preview of my buddy’s beautiful ass. Framed by the white elastic of the jockstrap it seemed even more appealing and appetizing. My mouth fairly watered. I had Stuart on my left with his butt cheeks glowing like light bulbs and Clay on my right in his watch-my-bulge see-through shorts. He was leaning against a pillar his arms folded, his pecs pushing up from his crossed arms and a brick hard boner down below. My dick was pushing up too and threatened to tent my Calvin's. None of this was lost on Clay. There was an amused smile on his face.
“You look horny,” he said.
“Excuse me,” I replied, playing the innocent.
“I said you look horny,” he repeated, rubbing his boner. “I’m horny too. Why don’t we mess around instead of messing ourselves up washing cars?”
“Meaning,” I said rather superfluously as I knew exactly what he meant.
“Why don’t you go over there and lick your buddy’s ass? I saw the way you were looking at it.”
There was nothing I wanted to do more but I remained glued to the spot. I was so embarrassed that my eyes, and now my dick, had given the game away and Stuart knew exactly how I felt about him.
“This is getting out of hand, Joncy,” he said, blushing like a beetroot. “Let’s go home.”
“No way,” said Clay splaying Stuart rudely across the hood of a Buick.
He lifted his flailing legs high into the air and exposed his already half-exposed butt cheeks.
“Come over here and lick his ass,” he said to me. Now it was an order.
Stuart wriggled and squirmed but Clay had him in an iron grip.
Of course I could have refused, grabbed my clothes and hot footed it home, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. I didn’t want to hot foot it home. I wanted to hot tongue it up Stuart’s ass. So you could say I had no one but myself to blame for the afternoon’s subsequent events.
Stuart was hanging on to the luggage rail of the car for dear life as I approached. His eyes and his ass both shut tight. The little pink slot in the middle of his butt reminded me of my first piggy-bank. Now I couldn’t wait to pig it with Stuart. My dick was like set concrete and my tongue all set to go. Stuart appealed to my better nature but my dick had a mind of its own.
“Joncy are you sure you want to do this? I can ask my father to give us the money for the window.”
But I was already licking his creamy, dreamy ass and sticking my tongue into the plush heat of it.
“Oh,” he quivered as he felt the full force of my fuck-feather. “Oh, oh, oh.”
In spite of himself he let his ass drop down on my watering mouth to take in more of my tongue.
“That’s a good boy,” said Clay and let go of Stuart’s legs. “Suck his balls too. Make him hard.”
I did as I was told and was rewarded by a primal shudder from Stuart and the horniest sound I’d ever heard come out of him. Or anyone else for that matter. It increased the size of my boner to bursting point. It had quite an effect on his too. My no longer blushing buddy wrapped his feisty legs in a stranglehold round me and drew my salivating mouth closer to his butt.
By now my swollen boner was pressing its nose against the cotton of my boxers and wedged hard against the hood of the car. Clay solved that problem by surreptitiously releasing my dick, pulling my shorts down while I was busily occupied getting my wet tongue further up Stuart’s parched ass. He slyly slipped his hand under my scrotum and drove me wild with the fabulous feel of it. This wildness communicated itself to my tongue which fucked its way in and out of Stuart’s tight little pouch. I gnawed at the puckered edges and used my tingling tongue to set his nerve ends jangling.
“Wow, jeez, oh man,” he wheezed and pressed his horny little ass into my face. Nearly broke my nose in the bargain. Meanwhile Clay was preparing to break my butt. He began by jerking me off. I didn’t resist. It was the first time that a guy had hand-fisted me and my dick rose to the occasion. So far … so very, very good. Then I began to feel another uncomfortable wedging from behind. First in the shape of Clay’s rough motor mechanic’s thumb and eventually his even rougher dick.
“Looks like that flat little ass of yours could do with some fleshing out,” he said.
I realized then that I was a sitting duck and would soon be a sitting fuck. While I’d been drooling blissfully all over Stuart’s ass, Clay had been doing likewise all over his giant dick and was now ready to send the wet monster up my virgin butt chute. His hand was pretty wet too. So were his thick manipulative fingers. Mushy with precum they were busy moistening my love hole.
Somehow he manoeuvred his mushroom head in there and, as I inwardly screamed with pain and pleasure, my butt joined in with a chorus of ‘I’ve got you under my skin.’ That guy Cole Porter really had a way with words and was obviously speaking (or singing) from experience.
One sudden stab from Clay’s long dong and I’d made that song my own.
It was my turn to wow and jeez and wheeze.
Unaware of the fires going on below, and conscious only of my tongue, Stuart was writhing away happily on top of the car. He moaned and sighed and started saying things I’d always wanted him to say. Like he’d always loved me and wanted to kiss me passionately for how I was making him feel.
Clay in the meantime was having a mean old time grinding his way cruelly past my sphincter.
“Why don’t you fuck him? He’s ready for it.” he whispered in my ear.
With that he lap-danced me, forward and up, until my cast iron dick was right in line with Stuart’s yawning cavern. I grabbed firm hold of his hot haunches and rammed my way in there while Clay grabbed hold of mine and crammed the rest of his male meat into my receptive butt. I tell you man, besides word plays by Porter I was learning the true meaning of that overworked word awesome. The three of us flew as one. I was enjoying my first sexual experience to the full. Both ends.
I dug into Stuart with all the force of my nineteen years. I tongue fucked his face and butt fucked his ass until his back began to take on the imprint of the luggage rack and I’d racked his butt to kingdom come. Of course I was getting a lot of support from my second in command who was pounding and pummelling away at me as if my ass were a punch ball. A human punch ball for his divine dick. At one point, in search of respite, I sat back on him and he sent both me and Stuart sailing for the ceiling. Of course I was completely out of control as Clay was running the show and I came in fits and starts as he jerked me from one end and Stuart jerked me from the other. I let go and let flow and so may I say did Clay who left my butt feeling it had just had an energizing enema as he used it as a douche bag for his dick and came to overflowing. I felt like a submarine sandwich by the time it was all over but pleasantly filled and fulfilled. I’d given Stuart the fuck of his lifetime -- he’d jizzed so high he gave himself a mouthful of his own cum --- and, as push came to super shove, didn’t do so badly myself either. In fact I’m rather ashamed to say that after I’d finally had the sublime satisfaction of busting his butt, Stuart somehow lost part of his fascination for me.
In the cumming weeks we sucked and fucked each other until the cows came home but for me it was all rather juvenile stuff after having Clay’s full-grown dick up my ever-expanding ass. I was ready for more, and still more, of the sexy same. In fact I couldn’t get enough of it. I spent countless days and many secret nights making regular bike visits. And it wasn’t my tires he pumped up either.
“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got one hell of a gorgeous dick?” he said one day as he pumped and chomped the stuffing out of it.
Actually I didn’t know I had so much stuffing in it and came copiously in his mouth.
Globs and globs gushed out of me. We both lapped them up as we kissed. Another first.
Then it was my turn. Learning to get all that generous dick down my throat.
Listening to Clay’s appreciative groans and mystic mumblings.
I like to handle his big cock as much as he likes to stick it in me.
And when he does so I’m sort of oozing and my whole body seems to dissolve into a pool of cum.
I’d call it an out-of-body experience if it wasn’t so in-body.
Then I lie still because I know he will want to harvest it and store it in his mouth. As he bends over me I breathe in the horny, sex-sweaty scent of him. I want to bottle it.
I also want to suck the juice from his nifty nipples and bottle that too.
He really lives up to his name. Makes me feel like that vase in “Ghost”.
Particularly when he manipulates my ass with his huge mitts before he fucks the shit out of me.
I tell you man I’m literally putty – or clay -- in his motor mechanic’s hands.
I know he’s twice my age but that’s probably why he gives me twice the pleasure.
As I rise and fall like a sexual wave, over or under him, I sometimes have guilty feelings about Stuart who is now boringly besotted with my dick. He’s becoming a real pain in the ass.
No pun intended.
I console myself with the thought that he’s really got nothing to bitch about. After all he was lucky enough to be fucked by two guys at once. But I know I’m only fooling myself and cheating on him. Trouble is he doesn’t turn me on like Clay does. It’s not his fault really. I suppose it’s a little like I was saying before when talking about girls. Never give a guy the milk until he’s bought the cow.
Talking of milk, I sincerely hope Clay continues to feed me with his super abundant, over-generous portions of meat and cream and doesn’t tire of me. When I’m at home alone, or even with Stuart, I feel his dick throbbing into the aching cave of my throat, the aching cavern of my ass.
Without him my life would be empty. A bottomless pit.
Strange to think I began by setting my sights high on breaking my best buddy’s aristocratic butt and here I am having my own mashed to butter by a ‘mere’ motor mechanic. Still I’m not complaining. Whoever invented the expression sweet and low certainly knew what they were talking about.
And to think it all started because we threw a ball in Clay Newton’s backyard.
He’s certainly thrown a couple into mine.
The Badpuppy.com model in these pictures is Steve Hanson
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