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The Spare Room by Michael Kirwan
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It should have been mine. It was supposed to be mine. The converted garage apartment had been dangled in front of me as an incentive to behave, get good grades and make it into a good college in the fall. My dad's in the construction business and he did a bang-up job turning a mildewed, cob-webbed space into comfortable, efficient living quarters, originally for Grandpa (sudden heart attack) then Aunt Lucy (finally found a man and moved to Florida) and finally as a private retreat for me when I turned eighteen (and acted the model good son.) Now, out of the blue, arrived my mother's best friend's slightly criminal son needing to "get it together." Mom's friend, Dora and she had been like sisters and when Dora passed, mom sort of took on the task of looking over Fred, her son. Dad was aggravated, Mom apologetic but helpless to say no, and I, I was pissed as hell!

Fred moved into my accommodations with little more than a ratty futon and a battered television set, assuring my scowling father that he would definitely be able to get back on his feet in six or seven months. SIX OR SEVEN MONTHS? My whole summer crammed into my old room while this smirking bum stunk up my apartment with cigarette smoke and farting. What did I do to deserve this shit?

My Dad suggested that I use the bathroom in Fred's apartment in part to make him uncomfortable and in part to shut up my constant cranky whining about needing some privacy. He figured Freddie-Boy would balk at having to share the space with a hostile 18-year-old and would move out sooner rather than later. The next day I lay in bed listening to both my parents bustle about and eventually take off for work before getting up to begin my campaign to oust the interloper. I went through the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment that should have been mine. Since this was an annoyance visit, I didn't bother to knock. I just pushed my way in ready to get loud. Fred was already up and in the bathroom and he yelled to me that he'd be right out. I sat on the suspiciously stained futon and waited, the wind sort of blown from my attempt to sail in and be obnoxious. He'd only been here three days and already it smelled of tobacco, sweat and something else that seemed familiar but elusive. I cringed at the dirty underwear and crumpled potato chip bags scattered around. The wadded tissue clumps at my feet didn't improve my attitude any.

All my planned nasty remarks vanished when Fred emerged from the bathroom naked except for a greasy T-shirt and sporting a fat, heaving boner swaying lazily as he approached me. He stood next to me and stretched, his big cock bouncing and dripping. The sight of his bloated tool mere inches from my face mesmerized me.

"Don't you hate it when the first leak doesn't get rid of your piss hard? My dick just doesn't understand the whole concept," he said, propping a foot on the futon and flexing his hard-on even closer to my startled face. He tugged on his hairy ball-sac causing the foreskin to skim back a little from the shiny crown and glistening slit. "Well? I thought you had to use the bathroom? I know I need to finish up on my beauty sleep," he chuckled.

Then I realized that I couldn't just stand up. For some crazy reason (I was hoping to pin it on a morning piss hard-on of my own) I had a humdinger of an erection straining at the fabric of my pajama bottoms. A cum bubble oozed out of my stiffy as Fred sat down next to me and leaned back, his veiny slab of man meat thumping his soft belly.

"Hey, Earth to Rodney, it's all yours."

It took a second for me to realize that he meant the bathroom. Blushing and awkwardly trying to conceal my flagpole, I stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door. WOW! What the fuck was all that about? Why was I trembling and tingling all over, my brain apparently blanking out and handing over the reins of power to my rock-hard boy blaster? My pee splattered the wall and on my leg before I could contain my rod and direct it into the bowl. I seemed to have caught something from Fred. My prick didn't get soft like usual. I waited, trying to imagine math problems, but nothing worked. Finally, I flushed and opened the door. Fred had a pillow over his eyes and was snoring, his legs splayed and that massive member still engorged and inviting. "Inviting?" What the fuck does that mean? I beat it back to the more familiar part of the house and pretended to get on with my regular life.


* * * * *

Fred's secret cock show continued for the next two weeks. My every visit to the far bathroom afforded me more prick tugging/stroking/fingering and toying with than you can imagine. I guess I could have used the other bathroom but I was fascinated and turned-on by his casual exhibitionism and besides, I was still trying to stake my claim to the property.

When my Dad reached the apex of his aggravation, he and Mom took a ten day cruise to the Bahamas, leaving me to make sure that Fred didn't sell off the house and all of our possessions. My nerves jangled and my prick jutted eagerly while I watched TV and thought about how Freddie was going to showcase his fuck stick now that we were alone. Finally, around ten o'clock I just couldn't take it any more and made my way through the kitchen and up those stairs. I just walked in as had become my custom and stood there watching Freddie pinching his foreskin while thumbing through a porn magazine.

Without looking up he said, "I was wondering how long it'd take you."

"How long it would take me?" I asked, my voice a little hoarse and low.

"Enough with the games, Rodney. They're gone and you ain't stupid. A little inexperienced and confused, but hardly stupid. What's the problem? You've been drooling for my bone since I got here. It's okay with me; I got nothing else going on right now. You might as well do it with me, it's convenient and I can give you some helpful pointers, having covered those bases when I was your age. Sit down over here and do what you want." He smiled and lit a cigarette, spreading his hairy thighs to give me better access.

"Do what I want?" I asked, sounding like a moron.

He ignored me. Puffing his cigarette and holding the magazine up by his face he gave me silent permission to touch his semi-erect cock. I sat down and gingerly began handling it, marveling at how silky it felt and at how quickly it expanded and lengthened. The aroma from his balls and ass crack made my dizzy. I thought I might faint from the excitement. I wrapped my hands around his pulsating shaft and masturbated him in every style I'd tried out on my own tool. From beyond the slick pages hiding his face, he hummed contentedly.

"You're going to need to start sucking on it soon, that's just the way it goes. You should get naked now before we start getting sloppy," Fred informed me as he turned the page to the next gooey snatch. As I undressed, he added: "Do a lot of licking and sucking before you try swallowing it. Get it nice and juicy and don't neglect my nuts."

When I got the hang of blowing him, he put down the skin rag and positioned us in a "69" on the futon, sucking on my dribbling six incher and offering instructions when I was too close to shooting off. I was sweating, shaking and squirming when his stubby saliva soaked finger pushed up my ass and triggered an explosive orgasm that he took in this mouth before spitting it onto my twitching, invaded sphincter. I thought it was over but he just let me catch my breath and then he fed me his massive flesh spear, all the while slowly finger-fucking my tender but hungry asshole.

"It's okay if your dick gets soft for a little while," Fred told me as his fat tube slid down my gulping throat. "You're young and it'll be hard again soon enough. For now just concentrate on your mouth and this boycunt I'm shaping with my fingers. Feel that? That's two fingers. After a third we're going to try some fucking. It probably won't happen tonight but we'll give it the old school try. Move in here with me for the next ten days so I can train you right. By then, you'll be broken in and know how to make a man feel good. I'm going to unload in a second. Take as much as you can. I'll stay hard so you can enjoy it for awhile longer."

Suddenly, big gobs of cum rocketed out of his giant pecker, filling my mouth with salty, thick cream. The pungent nectar gushed and dribbled all over my face and his balls. As the third finger pushed inside of me, opening up a whole new universe of sensations, I thought, Well, I'm at least going to spend some time in MY apartment, and I began licking up the white splooge coating Fred's spasming boy poker.

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