Bobby's Tale

He didn't even blink. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling it back to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it for me. "That felt good, bro'. Why don't ya squeeze the last couple a drops out for me?"

Oh my God. I didn't react, didn't resist, didn't want to do this; but I did want to do this; but I knew I shouldn't do this, shouldn't let him manipulate me into doing this. I couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking. I didn't know if he was trying to come on to me for real, or play me so he could humiliate me and ruin my life. I got the feeling he'd smile that same smile either way.

I stared at his face with my jaw hanging open, unable to react, rushing like hell, scalp tingling. He worked my hand back and forth on his cock and leaned his head in close to mine, forehead to forehead as we looked down at his hand on my hand on his cock, "Come on, Bobby, stroke it!" he stage whispered. He nodded down at my tented jeans and said, "I can see yer gettin' off to it, so go ahead an' stroke it, bro'." He smiled what he thought was an encouraging smile.

I saw it more like a shark's smile. I thought of Jaws. I was all but hyperventilating, wobbling around a little. But as wary as I was of his motivations, I was simply unable to refuse the first cock I'd ever held in my hand besides my own. And that it was a really big and thick one at, easily, a good eight inches, attached to this sexy, dangerous guy on my 'most wanted' list, made it hard to listen to my own logic, as it sent jolt after jolt of excitement and pleasure through my circuits, over-riding the warnings in my head.

But I finally snapped and jerked my hand away, blushing beet red and trembling. "Uhhh... I gotta..." I mumbled and rolled out from under his arm, "...get back in there."

I couldn't believe I had just played with Kevin Landry's dick! In his own bathroom! With all these people in the house! OH FUCK!

My life is over. He's going to go back out there and have a big belly laugh as he tells everyone how Bobby Wheaton, the f-a-g, just played with his dick over the toilet. And of course, in the telling, it will have been me groping for it without any prompting from him, I'm sure.

He kept his hand on my shoulder as I tried to get past him to leave the room, "Hey, Bobby, mellow out, dude. It's no big dope deal, Bro'." He half turned and looked into my eyes, smiling that sexy smile again, "How 'bout we go party in my room-- just you 'n me."

I was too freaked out to respond. Well, I guess the sheer terror in my eyes was a response of sorts. I whipped around to make my escape and tripped over the little fuzzy rug. I went down and hit my forehead smack on the edge of the partly open door. The lights went out for a second, and I wished they had stayed out longer. It fucking hurt like hell. I had expected Quaaludes and booze would have made it not hurt, but it damn sure did.

Kevin quickly came down on one knee to see how I was, "Whoa, bro'! You ok?! Oh man, that had to hurt! I think you dented the fuckin' door," he chuckled. "You ok?" He turned my head and inspected it. "Oh bro', yer gonna have a big fuckin' knot right here tomorrow," he poked my forehead right where I'd hit it and I winced.

"OW! FUCK!" I pulled my head away from his touch and felt to see if I was bleeding or anything. Kevin adjusted himself onto both knees and I noticed his hard dick was still sticking out of his fly. I felt my own dick jerk back to life at the sight. With my hand on my growing knot and my head tilted down, he couldn't see my eyes, so I was able to stare at it. I forgot all about my throbbing injury as I stared at his big, enticing, fat dick. I wanted to suck on it so fucking bad!

I don't know what he was thinking of, about that time, but his dick kept twitching and bouncing itself around. It wasn't losing any hardness, and he made no attempt to put it back in his pants; thereby keeping me mesmerized. He probably knew I was staring and was doing it on purpose.

"You sure yer ok? Can ya see straight?" He took hold of his dick and aimed it at me, "How many dicks am I holding up?" He couldn't wait for my response; he busted a gut laughing and slumped against the sink cabinet. I tried to act pissed off, but busted up too.

When he got over being impressed with his own wit, he started to stand up, moving his now dangling wonder closer to me in the process. He offered his hand and I pulled myself up by his flexing arm, inspecting his tattoos closely on the way.

As soon as he could tell I was somewhat stable, he put my hand right back on his dick again. I jerked it away and snapped at him, "Cut that shit out, man!" As it roared back to hard almost instantly.

He laughed oh-too-wisely and said, "You got just as much a boner as I do, bro'. Quit tryin' to act like ya don't like it when I can see ya do." He chuckled and jutted his pelvis forward, nudging my hip with the wide rose colored head. He tried to look in my eyes, but I refused.

"I don't... I don't... Man, fuck that shit!" I gave it my most disgusted tone, "I ain't no fucking fag!"

I started walking quickly down the hall, but he intercepted me halfway and pushed me up against the wall with brute strength, pinning my arms up and out from my sides, grinding his groin into mine with a big evil grin on his face. It was hard to think of him as the same age as me, being so much bigger and stronger. And he looked like he could be twenty or twenty-one easily.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, bro'..." He said, as if I were trying his patience. He followed my head with his to get me to look at him as I looked in every direction, steadfastly refusing eye contact as he breathed gin and coke into my face. "Ya can't hide how ya liked my dick, bro', so don't even try to pretend." He studied my face for a moment. "What, you scared I'm gonna tell anyone about this or somethin'? Ain't no fuckin' way, bro'!" He ground slowly and sensuously into my groin as he spoke. "Ain't no other reason for you to try an' pretend like you ain't likin' it."

"I don't-- I don't know what you're talkin' about, Kevin. That's bullshit! Leave me-- let me go, dude!" I was beginning to freak now, feeling like some felon caught red-handed and up against the wall. And he STILL hadn't put his dick back in his pants! It was like he couldn't care less if anyone caught him with his hard dick out of his jeans, humping on me with it in his own fucking hallway! Anyone could have headed for the bathroom and seen us; and there was no way he could have gotten it back in his jeans before they saw it.

"Bro', you're so into it yer about to cum in your pants! Quit trying to act like ya don't want it, Bobby."

He was working his cock sensuously against my traitorous erection, and had now captured my eyes, making me feel like a little kid caught on a carnival ride I was too short for; wanting, needing to take the ride, but common sense telling me I could, and probably would, get hurt. I was so fucked up, so scared of his cocky smile and his brazen fearlessness and so turned on by his very aggressive sexiness, I was having a real problem breathing.

I saw him gauging my resistance-- or lack of it-- at this point, and watched a smug little grin appear the moment he decided he had me. I felt my stomach flip-flop and my cock twitch; both despair and excitement flooding my drugged brain simultaneously.

"Wait right here, bro'!" He stepped away and held his arms in a semi-circle around me to underscore that he didn't want me to move, "Don't move a fuckin' muscle!" he almost sounded threatening. "I'll be back in a flash."

He looked down at his dick and grinned like an excited child. He somehow managed to stuff it back in and turned. He veered off into the kitchen at the head of the hallway. I noticed he seemed to walk just fine. I guess he, um, recovered from his wobbliness in the bathroom rather quickly. The rest of the group was beyond the dining room/NAPA auto parts depot, carrying on loudly over the stereo, not missing either of us, apparently.

I was totally freaking out. I had fantasized and even prayed for something like this to happen; but it was going nothing like I had scripted. Mainly, I had no real idea how he viewed it, how he viewed me. But my imagination was going wild with images of him, now that I was thinking he had at least some inclination for some kind of guy to guy sex.

But that train of thought was battling my glaring paranoia about his attitude and motivation. And both of those trains were being derailed every few seconds, as I'd remember how his big fat hot heavy squeezable dick felt in my hand. I had never been so turned on in my fucking life!

He came back around the corner with a bottle of gin in one hand, and a pipe in the other. The carnivorous look in his eyes sent chills down my spine-- or it was just another drug rush, who knows? He walked past me and said, "C'mon," with authority in his voice.

I followed him like a condemned man into his crowded bedroom. It was filthy and smelled like a cross between a beer joint and a locker room. There were dirty dishes on the tables and beer cans and bottles everywhere, sprinkled liberally with wadded up Jack In The Box bags among the dirty clothes and other junk. Neither his bed against a set of windows in the middle, with one busted out and boarded up, nor Stan's to the left against the wall, looked like the sheets hadn't been changed in months.

He sat down on the left side facing Stan's bed and patted the stained sheet beside him for me to sit, then busied himself with digging out his stash to load the pipe.

I sat down beside him, mostly because I was having a headrush that gave me no choice. I kept arguing with myself, asking over and over why the hell I was here, how could I be so stupid; while visualizing me sucking his big fat dick.

He said nothing as he sparked up the ten dollar an ounce Mexican weed and handed it to me after a big hit. I sucked on it and held it in. He picked up the bottle of gin and chugged some, then handed it to me.

"Chase it with this," he encouraged me. When I tipped the bottle up, he reached up and held the bottom to keep me chugging. "Yeah! Don't puss out, Bobby! Chug it!"

So I did. I knew I shouldn't drink much, but I was so nervous and paranoid, I felt like I needed it really badly. On top of the Quaalude and what I'd already drank, the pot and gin had an instant effect, mellowing me out a lot; but not nearly all the way.

We traded hits and chugs three more times, then he got up and wedged a wooden chair up under the door handle. He swaggered over and planted his feet apart in front of me as the room began to spin out of control.

"I need ya to shake it s'more," he snickered, as he undid his buttons. "I think there's another drop in there ya missed."

He let his somewhat baggy jeans fall to his ankles and made his semi hard cock sway side to side. I stared in awe and terror at it swinging menacingly, temptingly over his big hairy nuts. The pendulous schlong looked even bigger at eye level, with no jeans obscuring its wide base. He peeled his Blue Oyster Cult tee shirt over his head, kicked off his jeans and shoes and stood flexing in all his naked glory for me to drool over.

And God, was he one to drool over! The baggy clothes he wore hid it, so I had never appreciated just how awesome his body was. It was male perfection that dreams and fantasies are made of. A body just didn't come built any better, nor a dick more impressive. He had very little body hair; dark coppery blonde around his groin, trailing silvery up his hard flat belly to his navel and lightly down his legs, and of course his armpits. There was a large tattoo of a dagger through a skull with blood dripping out the eye sockets on his perfectly sculpted left pec. I drank in the view with reverence, not quite believing this was all happening, and so fast.

But it was happening!He was standing naked in front of me, telling me to play with his spectacular, already hard again dick. I was far too petrified to move a muscle, even though I already knew damn well I would do whatever he wanted me to do.

He picked up on my inability to react and stepped in close to me, putting his dick within two inches of my mouth. I could smell a hint of an earlier shower, overpowered by summer sweat from his groin, and it was intoxicating. Very intoxicating.

"Go ahead, Bobby, feel it," he urged me in a soothing tone as he put his hand on the back of my head, just holding it there.

I reached up and tentatively touched his cock. Then I wrapped my fingers around it. They almost met. My heart had moved up into my head, and was pounding so hard and loud I could barely hear him. My mouth was dry as a bone and my hand was shaking so badly it was practically jerking him off in hyper-speed.

Oh God his dick was awesome! He gave only the slightest pull on my head and I put the tip into my mouth, tasting the hot flesh and precum leaking from it. There was no turning back now, that was for sure. So I just went with it and started sucking my first cock. And I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful cock to suck.

I eased his shaft slowly in, filling my mouth to overflowing, feeling it pulse on my tongue, tasting precum, tasting male flesh. I instantly knew that all the frustration and anguish I'd experienced for the last few years were justified. I hadn't had much doubt left by this time, but with that first taste, I knew for certain I was born to suck dick, and actually felt a sense of relief, of contentment, flowing over me.

He moaned and started pumping, surprisingly gently, in and out of my hungry mouth. I lost all of my inhibitions and got more into it second by second. As I increased my enthusiasm and tempo, he did the same. Within a couple of minutes, he was fucking my face feverishly, moaning and grunting with each thrust.

By then, my only frustration was that I couldn't get that fat thing all the way into my throat. I wanted to nuzzle my face in his pubes while gagging on his dick, but it was just too thick; and he was fucking my face too hard and fast to try relaxing my throat muscles to see if I could swallow it.

He pulled out abruptly, tilted my head back and handed me the bottle. I poured the nasty no-label gin down my throat while he watched. He laughed and so did I. He took a drink himself and made me take another huge gulp.

"Hey, you're fuckin' good at that, bro'!" He nodded his head, indicating my oral skills, not my gin chugging skills.

His comment didn't register in my cocksucking dazed brain at that moment; and by then I was so fucked up I couldn't sit up any longer. I slumped back on the bed, wordlessly reaching for his dick. He laughed some more and crawled on up, straddling me, letting me grab the object of my desire and stuff it back in my mouth. He fell forward onto his fists and fed me his cock, heavy balls banging against my chin with every thrust. I looked up his taught, flexing belly, past his chest and saw him looking down at his shaft sliding in and out of my mouth.

He smiled with pleasure. "Damn, Bobby. Man, it feels good." I smiled back with my eyes, thanking him for giving me what I'd been wanting for so long.

I was in heaven. A bit too fucked up, but... I'll tell ya, lying there, with this extremely hot stud fucking my face with his huge dick was a thousand times hotter than any fantasy I'd ever had. After several minutes, he pulled out and moved off of me. I wondered why, upset that he'd taken my pacifier away.

"Take yer clothes off," he ordered.

Without a moments hesitation, I started undoing my jeans. He re-lit the pipe while I stripped. I had to really concentrate hard to coordinate my fingers. I glanced nervously at the door. Well, if he didn't worry about somebody catching us, then I figured I shouldn't either. The other voice in my head was ranting on and on about how stupid that thinking was.

I didn't stop to think about why he wanted me to strip until after I was naked. Was he going to play with my dick-- or even suck it? I had a hard time picturing someone like him sucking on me, but was open for surprises.

I sprawled sideways across the bed near the foot, facing him on his knees while he took a couple of hits off the pipe. I looked at him and thought, 'Goddamn! What a gorgeous, sexy man! He ain't no boy! I could love him. Even if he can't love me back, if he'll just let me suck his awesome dick sometimes, I'll be happy. God, I hope he'll keep this a secret. He should know he'll get it any time he wants it if he does! Surely he'll think of that?'

Between hits, he looked down at his drooping cock, reached over and pulled my head toward it. "Suck on it," he ordered. So I did, avidly, greedily, for a minute or two. Then he pulled it out and held it up to his belly and said around the pipestem in his mouth, "Suck my balls." So I did, licking, sniffing them and grinding my face into the hairy, wrinkly sac.

It struck me odd that I'd never thought about balls when I fantasized sex with guys, cuz I got extremely turned on by his big heavy, tasty lemons. I thought, 'I could suck and lick on these beauties all night long!'

He interrupted me to give me a hit, but I pushed it away, "I don't need anymore," I mumbled and went back at it.

He aimed the stem at my lips and said, "Sure ya do, bro'. Have another toke." So I did. He watched me, looking back and forth between my face and my raging, profusely drooling cock. "You really get off to suckin' dick, don't ya." He said as an observation, with no discernable negative to it... but still...

I froze in the middle of my hit, coughed violently and rolled out on my back. Fuck! Why did he have to go and say something like that? Talk about a reality check. It started soaking into my brain just what I'd been doing-- or more accurately-- how much I'd obviously been loving it, how openly I'd shown him my hunger for dick. I was humiliated beyond comprehension and closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, to no avail. I couldn't put anything in perspective, being this fucked up and moving in completely unknown territory.

Kevin was sharp enough to snap to my reaction, and smooth enough to work me for it. "Aw man, don't freak, bro'. It's our little secret, cool?" I glared at him with fear and anger, unable to speak, feeling like my world was shutting down, going out of business.

He reached down and stroked my hair, sounding like a mom reassuring her child, "Don't be bummed out, Bobby. This is cool! We can get together like this whenever we wanna get our yaya's. It's not like I care if you like dick-- I'm glad ya do!" He reached over and pushed the bottle into my hands. "Drink!"

"I don't want any more," I said flatly, scowling.

"Drink!" he commanded again.

"I'm too fucked up! I don't want any more," I protested as he pushed the bottle toward my mouth.

"Drink!" He showed a little irritation in his tone, so I gave in and took a drink. Again, he held the bottle up and made me take more than I wanted.

He looked down at me, took his cock in hand and waved it in my face, "So go ahead and suck it, Bobby. You suck it better than anyone else ever has." He was enthusiastic, and maybe I was just confused and scared enough that I latched onto his compliment and... I don't know. I was too wasted to be very rational. I just gave up, gave in, and sucked his dick some more.

I figured: If my life was going to be over after this-- and as far as I could calculate, it would-- then I might as well get all I could of the thing that would be my downfall. I figured it was just my fate. I didn't trust him enough to believe this wouldn't get out. My cumulative exposure to his personality just told me he likely wouldn't keep this a secret, since he'd done nothing 'fagotty' himself.