Note to the reader: My name is Angie. I’m the author of this tale. I have two favorite types of stories now. Both revolve around effeminate young boys, either falling victim to other boys, generally slightly older but also sometimes younger, always utilizing their mouths. The second type finds an effeminate young boy unexpectedly alone in his parent’s condo for the weekend, having only mom’s underwear and her dildo(s) and pot stash for entertainment. This story is one of the former.
This story is not for everyone. Male readers are especially hateful toward stories like this, and inevitability give it a score of 1. They’d rate it a minus 10 if the system allowed, which luckily it doesn’t. Other readers enjoy the tongue in cheek narrative and rate these stories 5 or above, but just as often leave no score at all. Leaving, you know, the haters to dominate. (As everyone knows, haters always win.) If you just don’t like the story, that’s okay. Then a low number is justified.
Note 2: This story is a flight of fancy and is in no way to be taken seriously. It does not reflect the reality of a teenage boy and his ability to give head to other boys in the timeframe noted. I did track the numbers via spreadsheet, and the totals shown are accurate per my spreadsheet. However, no teenage boy could suck the number of boys, or as often as is depicted in this story; I was just having fun.
Note 3: This story takes place over two days in April, 2016. The back-story is mostly told in flashbacks that may become confusing. I apologize for that. Anyway, may I introduce Peter Magee.
It was Wednesday, April 13, 2016, 4:05 p.m. Peter was in Nick’s bedroom, naked, on his knees, between Nick’s widespread thighs. At 17, Nick was the oldest schoolmate that Peter had ever sucked. Kenneth and his three friends were older, of course, Kenneth in his 2nd year of college now.
“How many times have you swallowed altogether?” Nick asked curiously. He knew Peter’s dubious penchant for counting things, especially sexual events.
Peter freed his mouth. “You mean you, or with everyone?”
Peter lived to suck. He was 16 years old, and had sucked the first time at 14. He kept exacting count, but the count total was undoubtedly a hair off. A pubic hair, slightly thicker, and so more forgiving. A perfect count over the course of two years was downright impossible.
Nick laughed. “Me, first.”
He’d sucked 12 individual boys, three-quarters of a cock for each of his 16 years. His brother was first, a day-late birthday present, Kenneth mockingly called it. In reality, extortion. Kenneth caught him by hidden webcam trying to suck his own cock as a birthday present the day before. His first taste of cock fell on Martin Luther King’s birthday.
Peter shrugged. “I can’t tell you, not here. It’s on my laptop at home.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nick scoffed. “Of course it is.”
“It is!” Peter protested. “I know how many times I sucked you in total, though. That I looked at last night.”
Nick cocked his head. “Just happened to have out the old spreadsheet, huh?”
Peter blinked in surprise. He’d never divulged the spreadsheet to anyone.
Nick rolled his eyes. “How else would you keep track? Elementary, dum-dum.”
At 5’2” tall and 106 lbs, he was the smallest boy in his class. Only a handful of freshman boys were smaller. He wore black-rimmed glasses, and orthodonture on his small teeth. Everything on Peter was small, particularly, his peter. He hated gym.
Nick tousled his hair. “You were updating yesterday?” he reminded.
“I update every day,” Peter said defensively.
“How many did you put me down for?” Nick asked.
“The two I sucked you for.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. Peter began to blush. Nick grinned. “Total count?” he prodded.
“265,” Peter mumbled. Nick was genuinely shocked.
“No way! You’re serious?”
“I update every day. Every day something happens, anyway. Spreadsheets don’t lie.”
“They can be confused,” Nick said from experience. “Do the sum function wrong, and everything is shit.”
Peter glowered, offended. “I do not screw up my spreadsheets, Nick.”
“Garbage in, garbage out,” Nick teased. He turned serious. “You know how many times I’ve cum? For real?”
Red-faced, Peter shrugged. Pride in logging the times he sucked cock was demeaning enough; pride in logging how often he swallowed a mouthful from a boy he’d sucked was downright degrading. He should hate the idea, not track the occasions religiously.
“You can’t be embarrassed by that! You swallow me all the time, doofus.”
Peter explained his reasoning. “Anyway, I don’t actually track how many times you cum. Only the times you came in my mouth, and I swallowed.” He blushed even harder. “It doesn’t track how often somebody...” He cleared his throat, thoroughly mortified.
“Gives you a facial or cums somewhere other than your mouth?”
Peter murmured something assent-like.
Nick said, “265 times, wow. That’s not a record though, is it?”
Kenneth held that honor. Peter had sucked him 481 times in the 2 years that Kenneth had solicited his mouth. The last time had occurred January 23rd, a Saturday morning. He’d sworn off in disgust, vowing never to bare his cock for Peter ever again--like that was a bad thing. The next closest was Nick, with his 265 times.
What he longed to tell Nick, but couldn’t because he seldom reviewed those totals on the spreadsheet’s second page, was that he’d cum in his mouth 172 times--again, second only to Kenneth. He was intent on Nick (or anyone else) never finding out how many times with Kenneth it was.
Nick changed the subject. “So, you like swallowing your own?”
Peter grimaced. “I don’t like talking about that.”
Nick shook his head. This was something he could safely press. “Tell me, dude! I want to know,” he insisted, grinning.
Peter was brick red. “It’s not like swallowing you or the guys,” he muttered. “It’s actually pretty gross. I’ve done it with...” He shut his mouth with a snap. Jesus, Peter ... What are you doing?
Nick frowned. “Ryan,” he finished for his friend. It wasn’t a question.
Chagrined, Peter muttered, “Yeah.”
Nick was perturbed. He had no idea that Peter had swallowed himself for another guy, or that he did it at all. The subject had never come up.
“Wanna tell me about it?”
Peter winced at Nick’s disgruntled tone. Perversely, he was getting a sizable boner at the thought of his interludes with the cause of that tone. “You’re gonna think I’m sick,” he muttered.
“I think you’re sick now,” Nick countered, snorting. To show he was half-kidding, he laughed and popped Peter on his bare shoulder. “Tell me. I want to know, man.”
“A man wouldn’t be sucking your dick,” Peter mumbled. Or anyone else’s, he thought.
His second cock was Wayne Burrows, the best friend and cohort of his brother. On Wednesday, February 12th, 2014, Kenneth bushwhacked him after school, showing up in his bedroom at 3:35 pm. Peter hadn’t even removed his coat.
“I told Wayne about your mouth,” Kenneth told him with a smirk. “Says he wants to try it out himself.”
At this point Peter had sucked Kenneth 24 times, and had swallowed him 12. He had no issue with Kenneth at all; basically seeing his fantasy come true--with his own brother. He’d never get his own small cock in his mouth, no matter how he contorted himself, so Kenneth was a godsend. Wayne, not so much. And his two buddies, even less.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Nick said. “You are what you are, and nowadays, being what you are is no big deal. Gays legally get married now. Kids come out in school, and people support them like crazy. Remember Jimmy Roache?”
Peter knew that Jimmy saw more grief for his unfortunate last name, than he did for his sexual orientation. But Jimmy was a popular junior before he came out, a star athlete. Peter was only popular with Nick, and a few close friends.
“You like putting it in your mouth. I like putting it in your mouth,” Nick went on, “and I don’t consider myself queer. I don’t consider you any less a guy because you are.” He grinned. “I know that didn’t make sense. You know what I mean, though right?”
Peter eyed him sourly. Then sighed. “I’d be happy never sucking anyone but you, ever again.” He surprised Nick--and himself--by leaning forward and bestowing a loving kiss to the tip of Nick’s cock. Unlike his own pitiful erection, Nick’s had not withered a bit. Nick was hard as blued steel.
Laughing, Nick shivered and exclaimed. “Jesus, Peter! Do that again.”
Peter’s 3rd and 4th cocks belonged to David Norris and Jack Koesel. David was the oldest, and Jack the youngest of the four. David had the biggest cock, Jack the smallest, though none of the four could be considered small.
Wayne introduced David to Peter’s mouth on Thursday, February 17th, and Jack the following afternoon. Between the two boys, Peter inserted their cocks for sucking 28 times. He swallowed the pair 19 times in total, saying goodbye to both the final day of school for seniors, Friday, May 30th. It was also the last day Wayne Burrows got to fuck his mouth.
Wayne wasn’t satisfied with a simple blowjob, no; Wayne fucked his mouth at least once every time his brother brought him home. Wayne was the first to make Peter take off his clothes and suck cock naked. The first to make Peter masturbate while he sucked, or do it for perverse entertainment. Wayne rode him constantly about his minuscule cock and hazelnut sized balls. Wayne was the reason Peter sought the solace of a classmate, Zack Landers, in late April. Zack was Peter’s first sexual partner outside the home. Wayne--good riddance to the prick--finished his 4-month run with 32 blowjobs/mouthfuckings, and 24 swallowed loads of cum.
“Please?” Nick pleaded, laughing.
Peter leaned forward and obeyed, kissing it twice this time. He’d never done that to Nick. He’d never done it to anyone, but Ryan.
“Would it bother you if I said I really like you, Nick?”
Nick was already flushed; now he turned a bright red. “Uh ... no?”
“It’s just you and me now,” Peter said. “Ryan stopped talking to me. That’s a good thing, right?”
Nick blinked, startled. “What? When?”
Peter’s lips pressed tightly together, forming a barely discernible line. “We had a fight Saturday night after work. It’s over between us, I think.”
Nick was elated. Since the relationship had become a tense sexual triangle at the end of December, with the exit of Michael and Matthew Soares, Nick had begrudged Ryan Horne every moment of Peter’s time. He hated sharing Peter with anyone, especially someone not a close friend.
“If you were a girl,” he said firmly, “I might throw you on the bed and show you how good a thing having you alone is!”
Peter swallowed with difficulty. “I have a hole. You could show me there, maybe. If you wanted too.”
Nick faltered. This was the first time he’d ever suggested an expanded relationship between he and Peter. He imagined taking Peter doggie, filling his ass with cock and screwing it until he came, flooding his insides with cum. Then he imagined Peter on his back in bed, Missionary style, knees tucked against Nick’s sides, doing him just like a girl. Suddenly he was oak-hard again
“Sit in my lap?” he croaked.
Peter hurriedly rose and positioned himself clumsily on Nick’s lap, facing him. It was decidedly uncomfortable for both boys; their relationship had never been intimate, despite what they did after school. Peter was at a loss what to do with his hands.
“I so want to fuck you!” Nick exclaimed. “Can we do it without a condom?”
Peter laughed hoarsely. “I bet you never thought you’d say that to a guy. Do you want to use one?”
“No!” Nick exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically. “I will if you want me too, though.”
Peter returned his emphatic headshake. “I want you inside me. The whole thing, Nick. All the way up me!” He shut his mouth again, mortified at his excited babbling. His cock was so unbelievably hard now. “You have the biggest cock I’ve ever sucked!” he blurted.
Nick choked out a laugh. “Yeah? Who’s the smallest?”
Peter colored afresh. “Ryan?” he lied.
Nick had never been in the presence of Ryan during sex with Peter, only his friends Logan and Tyler. Ryan went to another school, and Nick had met him only once, by chance, at the bowling alley where he and Peter worked. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Even smaller than me,” Peter muttered uncomfortably.
That was a welcome shock to Nick. Ryan must be a real pencil-dick, then, he thought, because Peter was barely 4” long. A sudden thought struck.
“Has anyone ever sucked you?” he asked.
Peter blinked, flabbergasted. “Me? No, of course not!”
“Why, of course not?” Nick asked curiously. Shocking Peter, he grasped his mini-erection and began to inexpertly stroke the thin shaft. Peter stared down in amazement.
“Does that feel good?” Nick asked.
Peter gulped and nodded.
“No one’s ever done this before?”
Peter looked up, bewildered. “Well, yeah. Logan beat me off, those couple of times; you know that.” Once into his own palm, and once into Tyler’s Palm, both times making Peter clean up the mess with a washcloth. “Ryan’s done it too, beat me off into his hand and made me swallow it.” He grimaced, eying Nick pensively. This was the admission he’d choked on earlier, when Nick got mad.
Wayne had also beat him off, but Peter had no intention of divulging that fact. It was after school one day, following the introduction of David Norris and Jack Koesel. Peter didn’t remember the day or date, and had purposely never logged the ignominy. Before the three seniors he now regularly sucked naked, Wayne forced Peter into a contorted position with his pecker directly over his mouth, and masturbated Peter until he came. It was the first time Peter ever swallowed more than a sampling of his own cum. Wayne had done this to him two more times.
Nick took Peter’s right hand and guided it to his aching cock. “I think I’d like that too. Beat you off into my palm, and let you lick it clean and swallow it. That would be really cool, Peter.”
Peter spasmodically shivered. “I don’t think I’m gonna last very long. I’ve never done this before. It’s new for me.”
“So is this, I bet,” Nick said. He pulled Peter to him and connected their mouths. It was a clumsy kiss, neither having ever kissed a boy before. Peter especially was freaked out.
“Mmmmmm?” he complained uncertainty.
“Do you want to stop?” Nick asked. “I could--”
“No!” Peter interrupted frantically.
The closest Peter ever came to being kissed before was Zack Landers. Zack was Peter’s best friend in 8th grade. Zack saw how miserable Peter was, but didn’t know why, didn’t even have a clue, despite everyone at Martin Houk Middle School suspecting Peter was queerish. It was Monday, April 18, 2014. Zack caught up with Peter in the hallway between classes. Peter had just finished gym, and was in a thoroughly foul mood. Frustration had him stoop-shouldered and dragging his feet.
“Buddy...” Zack bopped him on the arm. “Whatcha doing after school?”
Peter wondered that himself. Kenneth didn’t give him advance warning when he’d bring company home. His last time with the goons was the previous Wednesday afternoon, when all 4 had done his mouth. He gave his brother head that night, also.
Actually, Peter sucked Kenneth a lot at night. Probably as often as during the afternoon, because often, Kenneth didn’t come home after school. He worked part time, afternoons, weeknights, and weekends at an automotive supplier in town. No matter how late, though, no matter if he had to wake Peter or not, Kenneth got a blowjob when he wanted one. Sometimes when Peter wanted, also, because Peter still liked sucking his brother’s cock.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing,” Peter mumbled.
“Want to come over?” Zack asked.
Peter felt a thrill of elation. He hadn’t gone anywhere in the afternoon since January 20th. He was frustrated almost to tears by the current goings on, and an afternoon with Zack sounded terrific.
“Yeah, sure! Not my house, though,” he warned. “I don’t want to go to my house, Zack.”
“That’s why I said, Do you want to come over, doofus.”
Everybody--especially his brother and the Three Stooges--called him doofus. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
“I have the new Call of Duty, and Alien: Isolation,” Zack said conspiratorially.
Peter’s eyes popped wide. “No shit! I heard Alien: Isolation is really boss!”
“It is,” Zack confirmed. “Even for a doofus like you, Short Round.”
Peter rolled his eyes. He and Zack had watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom last year, and when he wasn’t doofus, it was Short Round. He wondered if Short Round had a big or little dick.
Peter joined Zack on bus 16081 after school and alighted 20 minutes later at the corner of Melton and Deever. Zack’s house was 500 feet down on the right; he unlocked the door and punched the code inside on the keypad. His mom told him to re-alarm the windows and doors, but of course, he never did. Nobody bothered teenage boys. No one bothered him or Peter that afternoon, either. The time was 3:36 p.m.
“Dude ... want a Coke?” Zack asked.
“How ‘bout a Heineken?” Peter joked.
“Yeah, right.” He handed over a red can from the 12-pack. “Grab that bag of Doritos, will ya? I’ll get the can of peanuts.” No one liked salted peanuts better than Zack Landers, who always had a big tin on hand to slake his obsession. Peter could take ‘em or leave ‘em, though; he was addicted to cashews. He furrowed his brow at the brand name on the can; or rather, the lack of one.
“Big Lots,” Zack said disgustedly. “Mom says I can buy Planter’s out of my allowance if I want to. Fuck that,” he said, lofting his middle finger. “Want to fuck my mom?”
“In a Minnesota Minute,” Peter responded automatically. “Up the ass...”
“ ... and in the ear,” Zack completed. “You should meet the new dick she’s going out with.” He rolled his eyes disgustedly. “What a total dickwad. A hospital administrator or something like that. Total dick,” he said, flexing his little finger. “Probably this big, and thinks he’s a horse.”
“Unlike you,” Peter taunted.
Zack snorted. “My cock’s a real man’s cock. Just ask Ms. Cappelli.” Ms. Cappelli was their history teacher, and a solid 7 on anyone’s list of hot teachers. Ms. Denham was another, and so was Mrs. McCahill, the guidance councilor. Peter rated her a solid 8.5.
“She looked good today,” Peter agreed.
“She looks good everyday, dude. Especially on my real man’s cock.”
Peter tried not to giggle. The thought of Zack and Ms. Cappelli together just beggared disbelief. He’d drop dead if he knew Zack had pictures of her topless on his hard drive. She’d been hacked by a student, and Zack was one of the lucky few the hacker had sent pictures. She had an excellent pair of knockers for a 20-something chick, reflected in her bathroom mirror, or snapped at arms-length. More than one picture showed her normally small nipples beaded into near-date-sized fingertips. Zack ogled the pics, but had never allowed himself to masturbate to them.
They got busy with Call of Duty. Zack shot way ahead, expert from months of practice alone, or with his buddy Conner. Conner was a total dickwad in Peter’s estimation: a braggart, a bully, and doorknob stupid, a dangerous combination in a teenage boy. He couldn’t understand Zack’s friendship with the dolt. Peter went to lengths avoiding him; another reason he hadn’t hung out with Zack in a while.
“Where is Conner?” he asked cautiously. Dickwad hadn’t been at school in a week.
Zack snorted. “Got himself a dose of the clap. Doctor’s making him stay out until it’s cleared up.”
Peter’s eyes bugged out. “Really?”
Zack rolled his eyes. “God, you are such a fucking lame-o. No, of course not, really. He’s home sick with the flu.”
Peter reddened. Embarrassment made him tongue-tied, and degraded his game even further; Zack killed him dead in less than a minute. “Fuck,” he muttered angrily.
Zack later confessed that his next words startled him as much as they did Peter: “The next round’s strip poker, dude. Or rather, strip Call of Duty, I should say.” He waggled his eyebrows mock-suggestively. Peter reddened even more. He stumblingly tried to go along with the joke.
“My mother told me no strip Call of Duty unless your mom plays too.”
Zack snorted. “You wanna see my mother naked?”
“I can’t fuck her if she has her clothes on,” he said, reasonably.
“I fuck your mother with her clothes on,” Zack countered. “Bend her over the table, yank down her jeans and...” He made an obscene gesture, accompanied by an obscene noise. This was nothing strange, they always jonesed on each other’s mom.
Zack grabbed his ringing cell phone off the couch arm. “Speak of the devil,” he announced. “Hey, Mom! Peter says he can’t fuck you with your clothes on.” Beside him, Peter jerked and made a choking sound. “Can you wear a dress tomorrow with no panties so he can get it on with you? He is desperate for a good spanking.” He dodged away as Peter made a grab for the cell phone.
“Dammit, Zack!” He’d already guessed it was Conner, and didn’t want the situation spiraling out of control. That happened between trios of boys, mostly to the detriment of the youngest or weakest member.
“No, he doesn’t want to suck my dick. It’s your rank pussy he’s after, Mom, and my excellent root can’t get a break. Although,” he said theatrically. “He did agree to play a strip Call of Duty next game. Maybe root stands a chance after all.” He smirked at Peter’s upthrust middle finger. “Yeah, Mom. Love you too. Here: Root Boy wants to talk to you.”
Peter recoiled from the offered phone. “Fuck you!” he mouthed hotly, though nearly breaking out in laughter. Shit like this always happened to him. Fortunately, the new nickname lasted only to the 3rd week of July, when Zack’s dad moved to New York, and took Zack with him.
Zack returned the phone to his ear. “Dude. How you feeling?” He nodded and, looking at Peter, raised his eyebrows. “Finally stopped puking, huh? That’s good news. Peter says Hello, by the way.” He slapped at Peter’s lofted finger. “He missed you last week, dude. Said his libido was getting so big it ‘bout busted out his Jockey shorts. Needs you back, so it’ll shrink back to its normal pinhead size.”
Peter added a second middle finger in the air; Zack laughed harshly.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell him that for you, dude. Feel better soon. Fuck your mom for me.” Zack snickered again and hung up. “I really would fuck his mom,” he said to Peter. “Wouldn’t you?”
Conner’s mom was nice looking, and Zack’s was even cuter, but Peter had no interest in either mom. What interested him was Zack, and he longed to suck his Real Man’s Cock, a total impossibility. Worse, he strongly suspected that come the end of May, when Kenneth and the 3 Stooges graduated high school, his days of sucking were done. The non-incestuous kind, anyway. He looked forward to that day with equal measures of excitement, and trepidation.
Peter lost the next game. Not quickly, in fact, holding on tooth and nail against Zack’s energetic onslaught, well beyond where Zack would normally skunk him dead. The longer the gameplay went, the more anxious Peter became; he also read Zack’s mounting strain, whether from fear of unexpectedly losing, or Peter’s eventual demise and having to address the tongue in cheek wager. Peter’s underarms itched like crazy.
“Fuck!” Zack exclaimed, jumping up. “Finally! I thought you’d never die, you mangy cur!” It was obvious, how elated he was. The outcome was never a done deal, and he laughed giddily, making a dismissive motion with his hand. “That wasn’t really a strip poker round,” he said. “You’re off the hook, dude.” He continued to laugh. “I need a Coke. You want a fucking Coke?”
Peter nodded, fraught with anxiety. He wanted to suck Zack’s cock. He wanted to initiate the act, instead of having it thrust upon him by force for a change. He wanted the choice to be his, or more rightly, his and Zack’s equally. He almost blurted it out. He gasped at Zack’s next words.
“Would you suck my cock if I asked you to?”
Peter stopped breathing. Had he heard right? Did Zack just ask a question containing the words “suck” and “me” in the same sentence? “Wha-what?” he stuttered, shivering.
Zack disjointedly shook his head. “Never mind. I was joking, dude.” He headed toward the kitchen, stiff-legged and awkward.
“Please tell me you weren’t!” Peter blurted.
Zack halted with a jerk. He didn’t immediately turn around. “Peter ... I was joking,” he croaked.
Peter said nothing, trembling violently on the couch. The deadly silence stretched out. Finally, Zack turned around. “Have you ever sucked a cock?”
Peter nodded awkwardly.
“Who?” Zack demanded.
Peter flushed brick red. “My brother? Three of his friends?”
“Was that a question?” Zack wanted to know. His face muscles bunched spasmodically. Peter shook his head.
“I’ll do it if you want me to. I’ll go home, if you want me to do that.” He shrugged, miserable.
Indecision twisted Zack’s features. “I do,” he said. “Yeah, I do. I want you to.” His complexion darkened. “Do you?”
Peter twisted his hands in his lap. He said, “Yeah. I do. I just can’t believe you might actually let me. I’m scared shitless.”
“Me too,” Zack admitted. He shuffled back to the couch. “You sucked three guys?”
“Four, including my brother.”
“Jesus Christ, Peter.” He ran his hand over his buzz-cut hair. “I didn’t know you were actually gay.” He hesitated. “Are you?”
Peter winced. “Do you mean, was it my idea?”
Zack nodded uneasily again.
“Not exactly, but I was glad my brother made me do it the first time. I coulda done without his friends, though,” he muttered. “Jack and David aren’t too bad, but Wayne Burrows is an asshole.”
“Who has the biggest cock?” Zack asked. He laughed, the question impetuous and ill thought. Peter turned beet red.
“David Norris. Jack’s the smallest. Wayne and my brother are about equal, but Wayne is thicker, like about this thick,” he said, making a circle with his thumb and forefinger, not quite touching. He touched them together to indicate Kenneth’s smaller size.
“You ever suck them all at once?” Zack asked cautiously.
“5 times,” Peter admitted unhappily. “So far.”
Zack muttered to himself, “Jesus. 4 guys at once.” He blinked rapidly. “Sorry, I was just...” He rubbed both sides of his face. “I was hoping I was the first,” he said, wincing.
“You are, in a way,” Peter said softly. “The first that asked, anyway. I’m glad you asked, Zack.”
Zack smiled, self-consciously. He gazed around the room. He’d never noticed before how much glass there was in the family room. He felt horribly exposed. At the same time, imagining Peter on his knees before the open windows gave him an aching hardon.
“When was the first time?” he asked curiously.
Peter told him about Martin Luther King’s birthday.
Zack snickered. “Bet that made the old boy roll in his grave. White boy desecrating his birthday like that.”
Peter reddened again in embarrassment. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have approved.”
“‘course not.” Zack frowned. “Any of your brother’s friends black? Not that I have a problem with that,” he amended quickly. “I just can’t imagine you sucking a black cock.”
“I’d suck Terence Mobley,” Peter said with a grin. Terence was in his gym class. The big fullback had no problem at all letting other guys see his cock. It was huge, even hanging flaccid, like a thick black salami. He shivered lightly. “What?” he protested, laughing. “Like it would ever happen.”
“It better not happen,” Zack growled. “Terence Mobley would choke you to death with that horse cock. Or pop your hinges loose.” He made an exaggerated back and forth motion with his jaw.
Peter regarded him, amused. “Jealous?”
Zack snorted. “Just telling you how it is, buddy boy.”
Peter laughed. “Do you want me to suck you here?” he asked, conspicuously not glancing at the windows. “Or up in your room?”
Zack indicted upstairs.
Rising, Peter grabbed his soda can and followed his friend up the stairs.
Laughing, Nick went back to kissing and Peter responded with confused enthusiasm, growing more aroused by the second. If Nick didn’t stop kissing him, he’d blow his load all over Nick’s abdomen, he thought. He was almost there now. He’d never been this ready with a guy. “Please fuck me,” he pleaded desperately.
Picking him up, Nick turned Peter around and dropped him onto the bed. In a very few seconds he realized that fucking Peter was easier said than done. Clumsily, he arranged himself into the most reasonable seeming position over his friend, then slowly positioned and repositioned himself with Peter’s assistance. Suddenly, they just clicked. Peter looked up at him in undisguised longing.
“I think I’m in love with you, Nick,” he whispered, trembling.
Nick didn’t balk. “You better be, Peter Magee. I’m about to put my cock up your ass and fuck you like crazy.”
Peter shuddered violently. “Please. Do it now!”
Nick hesitated, looking conflicted. “Want me to grease you up? I can find something real quick.”
Peter emphatically shook his head. “Don’t you dare!” he hissed, gripping Nick tightly. He wiggled, making it clear how desperate he was.
Shocking them both, Nick was inside him in less than thirty seconds, the entire length of his cock buried in Peter’s hot rectum, gripped at the base by Peter’s spasming asshole. Peter groaned and buried his face against Nick’s shoulder. “Oh, my God,” he breathed shakily. “I love you, Nick.”
“I love you too, Peter.” He gripped him with bone crushing intensity, making Peter moan and shudder, then began fucking his virgin boy’s ass.
He was queerish, he guessed, but Peter was definitely queer. Baby-doll nightie queer. Pink panties queer. He laughed harshly, imagining Peter in a pink dress in school, on his knees and sucking every boy in English class, the only class they shared. Then he imagined Peter over his knee on a chair, being wailed on bare-bottomed while every boy in English class cheered wildly at his kicking and crying and pleading, wanting their turn at Peter’s scarlet bottom. Then he was cumming wildly into Peter’s virgin ass.
The next afternoon (Thursday), just after 3:30 pm. It was an early release day and Peter and Nick lay naked in Nick’s bed. They kissed languorously; Nick continually amazed how much he liked Peter’s mouth. Inexperienced kissing had led to French kissing the previous afternoon, and Peter was now expert at getting himself tongue-tied. Nick had him wrapped in his arms, aching cock wrapped in Peter’s right hand, stroked slowly while Peter fondled his testicles with the other hand. Nick liked being fondled, Peter had discovered.
“I noticed you squirming in English this afternoon,” Nick teased. “Getting a hemorrhoid?”
“Shut up,” Peter muttered, blushing. It wasn’t only English class that he’d found himself being squirmy. Nick had done a number on his asshole yesterday, and all day long, he’d ached. Pretty certain he’d developed a hemorrhoid down there. A huge one.
“Did I give you the runs?” Nick taunted.
“Shut up!” Peter protested. There’d been no diarrhea last night, but Nick had cum in him three damned times yesterday afternoon, and he felt pretty damned swishy inside. Each orgasm felt like a freaking gallon, like he’d coupled with a race horse instead of a boy. Nick caught him by surprise the first time, too. The sudden and violent orgasm had triggered one in Peter so powerful he’d splooged uncontrollably for what seemed like five minutes. Even Nick was impressed.
“I did that?” he’d asked in awe.
“Shut up,” Peter moaned, humiliated. Driven to orgasm by a spurting cock up his ass. It didn’t happened again, but Peter came close both times. Only godlike determination had kept him from exploding when Nick did him doggie. So emasculating, pulling apart his butt cheeks while Nick boned his rear end. The most humiliating sounds came out of his mouth. God, he was so queer.
“Am I effeminate?” he asked abruptly.
Nick blinked in surprise. “Not especially. Except when you’re cumming,” he teased. “Then you’re like a porno star: Oh! Oh! Oh, Nick!” he cried theatrically. Peter turned a mortified purple.
“Shut up! Do I?” he asked apprehensively.
Nick laughed delightedly. “Jesus, you turn me on, little guy.”
Peter hoped he wasn’t referring to his miniscule peter. “You cum so much,” he said out of nowhere.
Nick broke a huge grin. “I do, don’t I?”
More than any boy Peter knew, in the Biblical sense. It bothered him, knowing he’d sucked so many boys. In a bathroom stall at school, someone had drawn a mouth, wide open for a huge cock. The name scratched out below the rendering was his. The Mouth, he thought to himself, chagrined. Last week, Ryan had told him one of his friends wanted to make Peter’s acquaintance and had bugged him about it for over a month. Ryan went to another high school, for God’s sake! Not that it mattered anymore, with Ryan and him bust. Two less cocks to suck at once.
Frankly, it puzzled Peter why guys liked their cocks sucked in groups. He would never want anyone analyzing his paltry erection. Of course, that’s exactly what happened with every guy he’d ever sucked, naked. Which, other than Michael and Matthew Soares, was everyone. Starting with Kenneth and ending with Ryan.
He’d hated being naked with Conner Graham, of course. Conner, the dickwad. On Monday, May 5, 2014, Zack had convinced him that Conner would be a perfect addition to their little duo. A second act of rebellion against Wayne and his minions, he said. Reluctantly, Peter agreed, and sucked Conner the next day. And swallowed his cum both times. Beginning Tuesday, May 6, 2014, and ending Friday, July 8th, the day before Zack moved away, Conner got 17 individual blowjobs, and had his sperm swallowed 11 times. Zack’s score was 31, and 20. With Zack out of play, Conner was history. He avoided Peter like the plague.
9th grade offered a respite of sorts. Other than Conner, no one sussed that Peter liked to suck. Based on the evidence, Connor hadn’t talked. Not since turning 14 and 3 days, had Peter gone more than a week without sucking cock. He went four whole months following Zack’s unexpected departure. (Excluding his brother, Kenneth, of course.)
Surprisingly, Zack had stayed in touch. A week after moving, he sent Peter a text containing a JPEG of his Real Man’s Cock. Jaw droppingly stupid, but seeing it again made Peter nearly salivate. He didn’t realize how much he missed Zack.
Real Man’s Cock was Zack’s description. All American Cock was a better characterization in Peter’s mind. Exactly 6” long, 1” thick, jutting proudly upward like a bowsprit, it begged sucking. The head was in perfect proportion to the size of the shaft, perfectly formed, the shaft perfectly smooth and pink. What really set Zack apart from the others, however, were his perfectly matched balls. Only Kenneth’s were close in comparison, the right slightly bigger than the left. Peter noticed it right away, but was too anxious to point it out.
Upstairs that first afternoon, Zack set down the can of Diet Coke on his dresser and went to the window. He hesitated with his hand in the air. “There really isn’t anyone to see,” he said indicating outside. Peter walked over and looked out. The only thing visible were trees, the roofs of houses the next block over, and the top of a water tower in the distance. Zack’s bedroom was in the rear of the house.
“Leave it open,” he agreed. Kenneth most often left his bedroom window open in the afternoon, and sometimes at night just to freak Peter out. Plenty of eyes to see at Peter’s house, since both his and Kenneth’s bedrooms faced the street.
“How do we do this?” Zack asked nervously. He obviously had a butterfly attack going on. It was Peter’s fourth time facing a new cock to suck, but he was nearly as anxious. He’d never been given a choice before. He didn’t want to screw it up.
“We can talk first,” he suggested.
Zack half-nodded. “Yeah, sure, talk. Good idea. Want a Coke?”
Peter grinned. “I’d prefer a Heineken.”
Zack laughed appreciatively. “We left the Doritos downstairs. Should I run down to get them?”
“I’d prefer Utz Potato Chips.”
“I’ll jump right on that,” Zack said, heading for the door. He grinned, stopping midway to pick up his Coke can. “I feel like a fucking idiot. How did you get through this the first time?” He blinked, realizing his gaffe: Like Peter had any choice. “Sorry about that.” He colored, taking a sip of his Coke. “Does Kenneth, you know ... undress?”
Peter had colored along with his friend. “Not usually. Never with the other guys there.”
Zack half-nodded again. “What about you? Do you undress?” His blush grew darker.
“Almost always now. Wayne insists on it. He’s sort of a...”
“A prick,” Zack completed, frowning. “What do you want to do?”