by Nora Nix
“I was hard before you were,” Vince reminded him, trying to keep the desperate edge out of his tone. What the hell did he have to prove to this little shit, anyway? “But fine. You wanna see a man’s cock?” His hands lowered to his belt almost before he even told them to. “Take a good, hard look, then.”
Vince unhooked his belt and fumbled with the button on his pants a moment. Ever since he stood up, those five or six beers felt more like ten or twelve. He could hardly get his jeans undone. Finally, through some miraculous boost of dexterity, he was able to pull both his pants and his underwear down enough to let his fat dick spring out, spilling a trail of precum down his shaft. He let out his heavy balls for good measure, watching Paul’s expression. He swore he saw the boy’s cock twitch.
“I got an idea,” Vince said, manhandling his wide chode under the guise of adjusting it. “Halftime’s almost over, and your team’s been wipin’ the field with mine. I wanna make a friendly wager.”
“What’s that?” Paul asked. He was cupping and lightly caressing his balls. Vince chose not to call him on it; he was horny as fuck too.
“I say we both keep jerkin’ our dicks. Not touchin’ each other or anything gay like that – just ourselves.” Vince watched as Paul started to stroke his base again, clearly relieved that he would be able to keep touching himself. “We sit on this couch and jack off until one of our teams scores. If your team scores first, you get t’cum. If my team scores first, then I get t’cum.”
“Uh-uh,” Paul breathed, shaking his head. “That ain’t good enough.”
Vince frowned. “Whaddya mean?”
“You called out my manhood,” Paul said, rubbing his tip in circles with his thumb and smearing his juice everywhere. “Now I’m gonna call out yours. My team scores first, you suck my dick, Vince Cooper. And I get to fill up that loud mouth’a yours.”
Vince snarled and made a face. “What if my team scores first? You gonna blow me, Paul? Huh? Is that what you want?”
Paul snorted. “Please. Your team hasn’t scored all day. You’re gonna be slurpin’ my cock within ten minutes’a halftime endin’.”
Vince narrowed his eyes. Paul was arrogant, and Vince knew that his team always made a comeback by the third quarter – almost always, anyway. He was willing to bet it would happen again this time.
But what if it didn’t? What if Paul’s team scored again and he had to swallow his pride – and Paul’s cock?
No way, he thought determinedly. You’re no fair-weather fan, Vince Cooper. You either believe in your boys, or you don’t.
“All right then, ya mouthy fuck,” Vince said. “Yer on.”
Sitting bare-assed on the couch in preparation for victory, Vince jerked his dick with a nice, tight fist, staring anxiously at the TV screen. Beside him, with one cushion between them, Paul sat doing the very same thing, his free hand teasing and pulling at his wire-haired nuts.
Both of them were practically naked. Paul had forsaken his shirt, having stained it with precum while teasing himself to the point of squirming. Vince had caught him thrusting into his own hand a few times, eyes closed, and had reminded him not to cum just yet. Paul had nodded, opened his eyes, and focused back on the screen. Young, dumb, and full of cum, Vince thought with a small smirk, looking down at his own eager dick reveling in his attentive strokes.
Neither team had scored yet, and Vince could tell that Paul was getting just as close as he was. The next time Paul closed his eyes, Vince reached up and starting playing with his nipples, sending little lightning bolts of pleasure down into his balls. He rarely admitted to enjoying nipple play – he always thought it was too girly – but when he was alone with his laptop, he teased his pink little nubs until he shot all over himself. No need for that now, of course – Paul would be gulping his cock any time now.
As his toes curled, Vince began wondering why he wanted that so badly. Was it only to win the bet? To retain his pride and dignity by stuffing Paul’s throat? Or had it been so long that he’d take any pair of lips around his swollen, purplish head?
Looking over again at Paul, he could see the boy’s eyes were fixated on his dick, watching as Vince jerked and teased it. Paul was playing with his taint now, caressing the short hairs that ran from his balls to his asshole. Vince smirked.
“Eyes on the screen,” he reminded him. “I don’t want you to miss it when my team scores.”
“Uh huh,” Paul acquiesced, barely capable of speech anymore. He wondered how long it had been for him, too.
Just as he was beginning to edge toward his peak, Vince watched his team go for the interception. He sat upright, eyes widening as the play progressed. Paul was watching too, still slouched with his long cock wrapped up in his palm, half-lidded eyes glazed with lust. Vince wasn’t sure he even knew what was happening.
“That’s it!” Vince urged, watching his team’s player sprint across the field like a powerful locomotive. “Go, go, go, go, go!”
And then it happened: Vince’s team finally scored.
He almost leapt up from his seat, shouting with vindication as Paul bit his lip and stopped stroking himself. Vince clapped his hands together and pushed him.
“Did ya see that?” he demanded, pointing at the screen. “I told ya! I told ya my team’d pull it off!”
Paul half-smiled. He looked up at Vince. “I, uh… I guess that means ya won the bet, huh?”
“Damn right I did,” Vince said, taking a swig of his warming beer. “And you know what that means.”
“Yeah,” Paul said, his smile fading. “I do.”
Vince leaned back against the couch cushions and looked at Paul, his dick still clenched in his hand. Paul was staring back at him, breathing hard, supporting his cock at its base so that whenever his chest heaved, so did his prick. Neither of them moved.
Vince wasn’t sure he had ever considered them actually going through with it. It had been a bluff, mostly – a dare. But now there they were with their bare dicks out, watching each other jack off with the intent of getting a blow job after the next touchdown. Vince’s team had taken that honor, just as he knew they would. Should he make Paul adhere to the rules he himself had set? Or should he laugh it off as some stupid game and let him off the hook?
“Hey, no big deal,” he started to say, letting go of himself. His dick pulsated in protest. “I was just kiddin’ when I agreed to it. Just wanted to putcha in yer place, is all…”
“I wasn’t,” Paul said, getting down on his knees on the floor. Vince watched as the handsome boy crawled over, shuffling off his pants from his ankles and then pulling off Vince’s the rest of the way. His heart began to hammer and his breath caught in his throat. Was this really happening?
“A deal is a deal,” Paul said adamantly, fitting himself nicely between Vince’s spread legs. His balls clenched reactively as Paul grazed them with his chest hair. He looked up into Vince’s dark eyes and said: “I always settle my bets.”
“Paul – wait,” Vince protested just as his friend began to tease his frenulum with his fingertip. He groaned despite himself, part of him elated that someone else was touching his dick for a change. Before he could argue again, Paul began licking him like a lollipop, and it was all over.
Trying not to drool, Vince moaned loudly, his wet dick getting the royal treatment from Paul’s suspiciously talented tongue. Although the boy was only teasing him, he could already feel that pressure mounting at his base, the urge to unload all over his pretty face nearly overwhelming him. Stop it, his brain commanded. You ain’t no faggot. Don’t you dare let him make you cum like one. Vince gritted his teeth and held on to the couch.
Now that Paul had coated Vince’s chode in a thick layer of spit, he began working the shaft with his hand while the very tip of his pink tongue danced all around his swollen tip. Vince stiffened and felt his toes curl. Paul was twisting his wrist on the way up – no girl had ever done that before. It felt incredible, and his hazy thoughts drifted momentarily to being inside a wa
rm, wet cunt. He found himself thrusting without really meaning to.
“P-Paul,” he stammered, gasping in a breath. “That’s good enough, man. You can stop now…” Vince almost whimpered at the prospect. He didn’t really want him to.
Thankfully, Paul instead closed his lips over Vince’s oozing tip and began his first hard sucks.
Vince was in heaven. Paul knew just where and how to roll his tongue, and just when to slurp. He wasn’t shy about it, and the sounds of his sucking began to fill the apartment even louder than Vince’s TV. He looked down, watching as Paul took him in deeper and deeper, spreading his lips wide to accommodate his sizeable girth. Paul never missed a beat, and soon Vince felt his spongy tip pressed against the back of Paul’s throat.
“Oh, God,” he grunted, licking his lips. “That’s good…!”
“Mmhm,” Paul responded, making eye contact with Vince as he started fondling his balls. Vince felt them tighten in his hand.
“Fuck, man. You’re gonna have me shootin’ pretty soon.”
“Mmhm,” Paul said again, sucking even harder, twisting his head each time he reared back to the tip. Vince groaned. Paul really knew how to milk his cock.
“That what you want?” he panted, his hips beginning to buck a little into Paul’s mouth. The wet smacking sound that followed almost pushed him over the edge. It sounded just like ramming into some slut’s juicy pussy. “Yeah? You want a nice big mouthful?” He started playing with his nipples again, urging his dick to swell between Paul’s shiny, hot lips. “Suck that dick, Paul. Get those fuckin’ balls. I’m gonna give you all the cum you can handle, you fuckin’ faggot.”
Paul’s eyelashes fluttered. He looked like he was enjoying the abuse. As he tugged and molested Vince’s heavy sac, the older man bit his lip and started to thrust, fucking Paul’s face properly. Paul extended an index finger toward Vince’s asshole and brushed it over the short hairs surrounding it, making him jump and gasp.
“Fuck no!” Vince growled, scooting back on the couch. “Get away from my ass!” But Paul was persistent. He prodded at the soft, puckered flesh with the tip of his finger, never entering it in, but keeping Vince right on edge. Vince relaxed. He remembered that he had all the control.
“You wanna play around with my asshole, huh?” he asked, watching Paul slobber all over his cock. “You wanna make me queer like you, fag?” A sudden pulse from his dick reminded him how close he was and he gasped, clenching his toes into the carpet. “Ooh, fuck! You’re gonna make me do it! I’m gonna cum! Turn around!”
Paul dropped to the ground on his hands and knees, turning around with his tight, toned ass up in the air for Vince. He spread Paul’s cheeks and slid his dick between them, not in Paul’s ass – that would be queer – but just between the cheeks like a hot dog in a bun, and began to thrust. Paul had gotten his dick good and wet, allowing him to thrust and buck wildly between his ass cheeks, grunting like an animal as his balls slapped against Paul’s.
“Here it is!” he announced. “Here it comes!”
Placing his tip right at Paul’s asshole, Vince pressed against it and watched his dick erupt. It spewed jet after jet of hot, sticky jizz all over Paul’s hole, some of it even dribbling inside. Paul wrapped his hand around his dick and started stroking desperately, his balls rhythmically tapping against Vince’s. It only made him cum harder.
“Yeah! Oh, yeah!” he shouted, not caring who might hear. “I’m cumming in your fucking ass, faggot! Fuck, it’s so good!”
Paul gasped as Vince began to grind his balls against his, his tip slipping and sliding over his asshole as he did so. It didn’t take long before he was cumming too, soaking Vince’s carpet with a massive load of thick, white spunk.
His knees shaking, Vince slowly sat back down on the couch, looking down at Paul on all fours on the floor. A cold little knot coiled up inside of him. What the hell had they just done?
Paul turned to look at Vince over his shoulder. He smiled.
“If ya liked that, just wait until us’n the guys all get t’gether next time,” he whispered, breaking into a mischievous grin. “You’re in for a real goddamn treat.”
Vince squeezed his sopping wet cock and stared at Paul. Just what had he gotten himself into?
To be continued…
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... As he turned to face the man who had caused him all manner of trouble ever since he’d come over just to “watch the game,” Vince felt his eyes try their damnedest to eject themselves from his skull.
Paul was dressed in the exact same uniform that Sandra had been wearing – stockings, heels, petticoat and all. The low neckline revealed the divot in his chest that separated his bulging pectoral muscles, each one shining with what must have been some kind of oil he’d rubbed on himself for the occasion. The ripped blonde seemed almost comfortable in his achingly-tall pumps, and Vince could see the tautness of his strong thighs, accentuated by the sheer black thigh-highs he had donned, complete with garters.
Vince found himself wondering just what those garters attached to. Then he dismissed the thought, disgusted with himself.
“So,” Paul began, interrupting his self-loathing with his syrupy drawl. His crystalline eyes fixed on Vince’s as he offered him a beer bottle balanced precariously upon a silver platter. “Can I getcha a drink?”
Vince stared at him, slack-jawed, unsure of how to respond to the surreality of the scene before him. Just as he was sussing it all out, Mark appeared over Paul’s shoulder, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his barrel-like chest.
“Vince,” he greeted coolly, his green eyes glinting mischievously above his wolfish grin. “We’ve been waiting for you.” ...
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