His Beautiful Boy - 3. A Friendly Match

"This heat is fucking killing me," Oscar uttered as he lay on his towel over the large patch of grass overlooking the river, his hands over his eyes, trying to block the sun.

"Wanna go inside?" Antoine proposed turning his body over, his shorts still soaking from his last dip, hugging his skin and exposing his perfect bubble butt.

It had been three days since Antoine sucked Oscar and gobbled his whole load. Despite Oscar still feeling weird about the situation, they resumed their vacation life, as usual. Now and then, during the evening and before they went to bed, Antoine would discreetly insinuate himself and hop on Oscar's side of the bed, but Oscar would pretend to be asleep to avoid his best friend's advances.

He dreaded having to address the issue and felt guilty, in a sense, since he initially started to cross that threshold. They still slept with their beds joined together, though. Something about breaking that barrier with Antoine scared Oscar, yet inside, it allured him deeply. He lay there, hiding his face behind his hands and gazing discreetly at his friend's soaked body stretched on the grass, feeling conflicted. Maybe he was just afraid that exploring sexually with Antoine would change their relationship. Or maybe Oscar thought that admitting it would make him gay, which wasn't bad, just something he never considered, despite his blatant debauched obsession with Lorenzo over the years.

As he contemplated all these scenarios, distracted by his introspection, his shaft became hard. Oscar had been staring at Antoine's ass, which slowly jiggled as the boy adjusted his position to make himself more comfortable. Attempting to hide the bulge in his tight speedos, he quickly rolled, face down, trying to think of Elena's face as she peeled tomatoes to make his dick soft.

"Give me just a second." He muttered, his face buried in his towel.

Antoine looked at him, opening his mouth to say something, but hesitated. He glanced towards the house, and Oscar could feel his friend's gloom. Antoine had been like that since that night, always on the verge of saying something but seemingly unable to do it. Antoine was always the loud one, cracking jokes and teasing Oscar. But he had been somber lately, and Oscar felt responsible. He picked up a small twig from inside the grass and threw it toward Antoine, trying to catch his attention. As the boy turned his head towards him, Oscar realized that his friend's head was blocking Lorenzo in the distance. He sported his usual denim overalls as he bent over some large bushes, snapping through them with garden scissors. His broad and bulky arms were moving in slow motion. Oscar's groin twitched immediately, but he suddenly felt a peculiar feeling. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Antoine stared in Lorenzo's direction again, but Oscar couldn't see his expression. Nonetheless, he felt wrong, as if something was amiss.

"Hey, dude. Are you okay?" he asked, trying his best not to sound too obvious.

"Fine," Antoine replied, not even budging his head. "We should go. Your father hates it when we're late," he said, leaping up, grabbing his towel, and extending his arm towards Oscar.

Oscar grabbed his hand and yanked himself off the towel, bumping gently into his friend, their faces almost hitting as their bodies grazed momentarily. They lingered there for a bit, so close they could feel their breaths on each other. Oscar inhaled gently, and the smell of Antoine's coconut sunscreen filled his chest. He closed his eyes and inadvertently leaned forward, falling into nothing. He opened his eyes, and to his surprise, Antoine was already two steps further, trekking towards the house. Oscar rolled his eyes and felt incredibly stupid and deserving of such treatment. He chased Antoine and followed him inside.

Oscar's mother and father were already seated at the table, and Elena fetched the rest of the food. Oscar started walking to his usual seat, which coincidentally was next to Lorenzo, but Antoine snuck up in front of him and sat there instead. Oscar frowned at his friend but decided not to say anything. He begrudgingly sat beside his mother on the other side of the table. A moment later, Lorenzo showed up, his raven curly hair all wet, with an oversized white tank top and jogging shorts. His hairy chest and legs were on full display, and Oscar gazed discreetly, his head buried in his plate.

"Sorry to keep waiting, signore," Lorenzo uttered towards Oscar's father, who nodded.

"No problem, Lorenzo. Have you finished for today?" He questioned, signaling Elena to start serving.

"Yes, signore. I think I go to town party tonight, sì? He asked.

"That's a great idea. Go ahead. We won't be needing you for a couple of days." Mr. Steiner consented, giving Lorenzo a wink.

"Maybe...I think...take the boys?" Lorenzo implied, making Antoine and Oscar raise their heads in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Oscar muttered, his voice cracking slightly.

"It's football match today. We drink some beers and have fun, sì?" Lorenzo proposed, grinning and boosting his arms, waiting for the boy's reaction.

"I don't know...I..." Oscar murmured again, but Antoine jumped right in as he was about to finish.

"Sounds like a great idea!" He said, his green eyes twinkling at Lorenzo and his plump red lips stretching as he grinned. Lorenzo smiled back cheekily.

Oscar sat on the other side of the table, feeling a cold tide in his belly. For some reason, he felt vexed by that sight. Lorenzo always appeared indifferent to Antoine. Suddenly, it felt like the opposite. And Antoine seemed to be purposely trying to aggravate Oscar.

"I guess we can join you," Oscar responded, still struggling to contain his outrage toward Antoine.

"You can stay if you're not up for it." Antoine shot back in a rousing tone. By this point, everyone at the table was bobbing their head from side to side, like a tennis match.

"Did something happen, boys?" Mr. Steiner finally asked, articulating what everyone was thinking by now.

"NO." Both boys sounded in unison without missing a beat.

After a compelling yet awkward lunch, everyone dispersed. Oscar's parents went inside to watch TV. Elena went out to buy groceries and visit some family in town. Lorenzo went back to his small annex in the back. Oscar decided to spend the afternoon alone in the room. He felt livid and distraught for some reason. Antoine was pissed, and with good reason, since he had been giving him the cold shoulder for three days. Still, something was bugging Oscar, namely the look Antoine gave Lorenzo at lunch. Oscar couldn't shake that image off his head, so he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Oscar woke up sometime later with the sound of the shower running. It was already dark outside. He stood up, squinting his eyes, tilted his head to the side, and grabbed his watch from the night table. It was 6.30 pm, and Lorenzo had asked them to be ready at 6.45 pm. He groaned and leaped from the bed towards the bathroom. Antoine hadn't woken him up.

"Dude, what the fuck!" He hollered as he entered the large bathroom.

"You were sound asleep. I didn't want to wake you," Antoine uttered as he dried his smooth body while walking to the sink. "I'll get dressed and wait downstairs."

Oscar hopped in the shower, frantically washing his head and body as if his life depended on it. He was slipping and stumbling over his clothes, trying to get dressed, and was still putting on his shirt when he left the bedroom and ran down the large staircase towards the hallway. Oscar reached the lobby, but Antoine was nowhere to be found. The boy looked lost as he peeked around. He couldn't have, he thought. Did Antoine leave without him? He was about to head into the kitchen when he heard a car horn coming from the other side of the front door. Oscar sighed, relieved.

"You boys have fun. Careful with the drinking..." Mr. Steiner's voice urged from the living room.

"Later!" Oscar shouted as he ran towards the door, closing it behind him mindlessly and making a clangorous sound.

As he arrived outside, he could see Lorenzo's pickup jeep parked, the lights on, and the motor running. He beamed and started hopping towards it. As he approached the car, his face changed immediately. Antoine was already in the front seat, next to Lorenzo, as they chit-chatted.

"Oscar boy, come come, you ride back, sì? The Italian stud hollered. The words hit Oscar like a slap in the face. He slugged himself towards the van, opened the door, and climbed in, sitting with his hands laced and his back hunched.

"Ready for fun?" Lorenzo goaded playfully.

"Hell yeah!" Antoine clamored, igniting Oscar's grudge even more.

Oscar pushed his body back against the seat, opened the window, and took a deep breath, taking in that summer night breeze. A scent he found so pleasantly familiar and endearing had suddenly become a foul stench. As the car started moving, the sweetness of Antoine's perfume filled the air. Lorenzo popped some music, and off they went. Along the way, Oscar could barely put a word in as Lorenzo and Antoine chatted back and forth, talking about music and how European football differs from American football. As soon as they reached the party venue and parked the car, Oscar started to regret his decision to come. He could hear old Italian vintage music emanating from the large tent raised smack in the middle of the small old town. A large seawall hovered along and around the square, and he could already see a large crowd walking towards it. They hopped out of the car and started ambling there.

Oscar tried to keep up with the other two, but they seemed keen on leaving Oscar behind. As he chased them, he could see a lot of nice-looking girls around, and for a moment, he felt better since many of them would walk by him and stare. But every time he looked up again, Antoine and Lorenzo seemed further away. Suddenly, the crowd became more extensive and impenetrable, and Oscar was trying to squeeze himself inside the venue. He could see the other two vanish as he looked further ahead. Frustrated but bent on not letting Antoine's negative attitude get the better of him, Oscar decided to try to get inside and find a table. He could always call and see where they were later. He eventually got inside.

The tent's ceiling was bright red and covered with flowers. There was a stage with a band playing, a large dance floor packed with middle-aged Italian couples dancing, some parents with their small kids, and a couple of younger duos. As he walked around, he found himself enjoying the European feel, with the vintage band and the local atmosphere, and every once in a while, he could feel an ocean breeze sweep the room graciously. He picked up the phone to see if any of the boys had texted him. But nothing. No messages. As the anger built again, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Antoine was behind him.

"Dude, where were you? Let's go," he said, signaling Oscar and pointing to a table in the back where Lorenzo was waiting with three large mugs of beer and a grin from ear to ear. He followed his friend through the crowd and finally sat at the table next to Lorenzo.

"Saluti, boys!" He cheered, his voice damped by the rambling crowd. He then looked at Oscar and winked, his beautiful dark eyes twinkling.

Oscar immediately felt better. He chugged the large mug and smashed it on the table loudly. Lorenzo chuckled loudly, and Antoine followed suit, and for a moment, everything seemed normal again. Now and then, girls would come to the table and chatter with the boys, but being around Lorenzo meant neither one of the other boys stood a chance. Women would gravitate towards the stud blindly. But he brushed them away. He seemed keen on enjoying the company of the lads. They indulged in debauchery, laughed, cracked jokes, and even jigged to the traditional tunes. They invaded the dance floor and swayed their bodies, leaping as the music went. Oscar felt alive and youthful. A weight lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes and swung his body around, regaling on the high. He opened his eyes again, but to his surprise, he couldn't find Lorenzo or Antoine. He began scanning the room.

Suddenly, he found them back at the table. Lorenzo was smoking a cigarette. Antoine was sitting next to him, his body slanting over the stud. His hand rose from under the table and grabbed Lorenzo's cigar. He brought it to his mouth, took a long hit, and placed it back in Lorenzo's mouth. The Italian hunk's eyes were captivated by Antoine's mouth. Antoine leaned forward and took his mouth to Lorenzo's ear. What was he doing? What was Antoine saying? Lorenzo chuckled, pulled away, reclining on his chair, and licked his lips as he looked at Antoine. With one hand holding a beer mug, he took the other and engulfed it in Antoine's golden curls, shaking his head and pushing him away. They both laughed.

Oscar couldn't believe it. His chest was burning fervently, and his cheeks flushed. He started looking around, feeling completely self-conscious again. He realized he was jealous. He could never bring himself to be that vulnerable near Lorenzo. Antoine was always the social one, the charming one. Oscar immediately felt sick and nauseous. He attempted to compose himself and started trekking back to the table, trying not to waver as he did.

"Oscar, almost time for game. We go, sì?" Lorenzo proposed as Oscar reached the table.

"Uhum," Oscar mumbled, trying desperately not to fall over.

"Are you okay, dude? You seem pretty drunk," Antoine said in a condescending tone. Lorenzo giggled, which inflamed Oscar even more.

"Let's just fucking go." Oscar blurted, giving Antoine the finger.

They grabbed their things and started walking out. The tent was nearly empty, and the band was packing their stuff. As they walked to the car, Lorenzo and Antoine began chanting the lyrics to an Italian song they had previously danced to.

"Parole, parole, parole!" They piped joyfully, leaning on each other's shoulders as they walked.

Oscar lagged, looking at the scene, ready to throw up in every sense of the word. They reached the car and hopped inside. Oscar didn't even fight the urge to grab the front seat and dragged himself to the back, cracking the window open and regaling on the night breeze over his face as the van started rolling. He began to feel better. His eyes danced around the car, trying to focus. As he adjusted his position, he saw strange movement in the front. Antoine leaned over Lorenzo, and he was ushering things in his ear. The Italian stud chortled accordingly. Oscar wanted to respond or intervene, but he was still trying to keep his drunkenness under control. After about twenty minutes of an unstable car ride, they arrived at the villa. There was finally a comfortable silence returning, but Oscar could still hear a thumping in his ears from dancing so close to the party's band.

"Parents are sleep. We watch game in Lorenzo's room, sì?" Lorenzo suggested, and Oscar could swear his hand skimmed Antoine's thigh. But he was drunk, and the front seat hid his view, so he probably imagined it.

They jumped out of the car, shut the doors as silently as possible, and walked a few yards toward the annex at the back of the house. Oscar knew where they were going. He had been there on the day they arrived. However, when he entered, he was slightly surprised since it seemed they had walked into a different place. It was a small living room with two small couches facing each other, a small table, and an old TV set with a small antenna on its head. Oscar could see a door to the room he was in before, with the small bathroom behind one of the couches.

"Sit boys, I turn TV and get drinks, sì? Lorenzo announced. He crossed the bedroom towards the kitchen.

Oscar and Antoine were alone. Oscar walked towards the couch facing the bedroom and plunged his body on it, letting his head fall back. Antoine sat on the opposite sofa, facing Oscar, who lifted his head and gazed at his best friend, squinting.

"What?" Oscar questioned defiantly.

"Rien," Antoine replied, grinning.

They sat there as they gazed at each other, like a staring match or manly measurement of strength. The tension was palpable. But suddenly, the boys' resolute and stirring looks started to change. It gradually unwound into smirks and later dissolved into a look of sadness. As if they had become aware of how much they had mistreated each other in the last few days. But just as their youthful pride was diminishing and they were piling the courage to say something, Lorenzo broke inside the room, chanting.

"Parole, parole, parole!" He piped as he laughed, holding three beers in one hand and a joint in the other. "Ah, good, you boys make comfortable!" He said, giving each of them a bottle and leaning over the TV, with his ass pointing straight at them as he fumbled with the antenna to get a signal.

He gave the TV set two slaps on the side, and the image finally stabilized. The soccer match was 15 minutes in already. He took a few steps back and let his heavy, burly body plunge onto the couch beside Antoine. He lit the joint and took two long hits, dropping his head over the couch and discharging a giant cloud of smoke. Without taking his eyes off the game, he extended his arm sideways and passed the joint to Antoine. The boy grabbed it, took a hit, and reclined too. He stood there, glancing at Oscar and blowing smoke in his direction.

"GOAL!!" Lorenzo hollered unexpectedly, swinging his arms in the hair. Even then, the boys didn't flinch. They shared a seemingly boundless gaze. "Cazzo, passa la palla!" Lorenzo shouted, bouncing off his seat while shouting Italian obscenities at the small TV set.

Oscar and Antoine continue to stare at each other. Antoine now sported a slight grin, and as he held the joint in his left hand, he took his right towards his crotch and started touching it. He broke their shared look abruptly and gave the blunt back to Lorenzo.

"I don't get soccer. Looks silly." Antoine remarked, looking at Lorenzo.

"You tease me, French boy? You try run with ball in your feet! American football is sport for pussy!" Lorenzo uttered, visibly peeved.

Antoine stared at him, and suddenly, they both started laughing uncontrollably. Lorenzo reached over the sofa and started tickling Antoine's stomach, pulling his shirt up and exposing his fuzzy blonde belly button. Antoine was laughing but actively trying to overpower Lorenzo, unsuccessfully. The Italian studs' sheer force was too empowering.

And there, in that living room, Oscar observed the two men play and tease each other as Lorenzo tried to cram his hand on Antoine's butt crack and crotch. He couldn't believe it. It was as if Antoine was enacting his private fantasies about Lorenzo. He felt his chest start to flare up again, and this time, a distinct strain seemed to obstruct his throat. It was like watching a car crash and being unable to act upon it. His body froze as he grasped the couch's edges with his hands.

And then it happened. Amidst the playful moment, Lorenzo slid his large hand inside Antoine's pants. The boy gasped, and both men halted. They stared at each other momentarily before Lorenzo started caressing Antoine's crotch gradually.

"Fuck." Antoine moaned, his eyes wide open, and his mouth gaped.

"You want this French boy, sì? Lorenzo questioned, his torso towering over Antoine, who looked shrank and feeble. His hand kept rubbing the boy's shaft, and even with his shorts still on, Oscar could see it grow from where he was.

"Mhmm," Antoine whined between his teeth as he nodded.

Lorenzo took his hand out of Antoine's shorts, leaned forward, pulled his baggy tank top off, and reclined on the couch, exposing his broad and hairy chest. It was massive and expanded as he breathed. Then, he pulled his pelvis up from his seat and slid his shorts down his legs. As he skated back into the couch, his dick snapped back and hit his stomach. There was a collective gasp in the room. Both boys froze as they gazed at the colossal cock before them. It was over 11 inches long, uncut, veiny, and wide as a cucumber.

"Shit, it's huge..." Antoine uttered, completely shocked and slightly overwhelmed. Oscar's hands remained clenched on the couch.

"Strip, boy," Lorenzo ordered in a deep voice as he looked at Antoine lustfully.

The boy obliged, albeit nervously, as if he realized he had asked for more than he could bargain. He straightened himself on the couch, stood up with his back to Oscar, and took his clothes off. He was now stripped bare, his smooth, light skin illuminated by the images from the soccer game. His ass faced Oscar, who grimaced with his eyes reddened.

"Vieni qui, French boy. I show you good time. And we give Oscar boy show, sì?" Lorenzo steered.

Oscar was pierced to his seat as his heart pumped blood through his body abnormally. Antoine looked at him and smiled. And for the first time in days, it felt familiar, reminiscent of their intimacy, as if Oscar had cracked one of his lame jokes. But then it turned into something else. Oscar searched his friend's gaze for an answer. And then it hit him. Antoine was smiling as a farewell, the smile thrown at someone you love when you're about to depart on a long journey. And Antoine wasn't only parting with Oscar, but with whatever friendship they had before this moment. He winked and turned away, leaving Oscar alone on that couch.

Antoine spread his body along the edge of the couch, his torso facing down. He pulled himself over to Lorenzo, who placed his left arm over his back, rubbing Antoine's smooth ass. The boy nestled his head on Lorenzo's chest and grabbed his massive dick with his left hand, marveling at it up close.

"Fuck, it's dripping so much!" The boy said, pulling the foreskin back and unveiling a large puddle of precum that slid down, sheathing his hand, dripping along the veiny monster and over its large balls at the base.

"Is your fault, French boy. You tease Lorenzo." The stud grunted, and in a very swift move, his hand came up from the boy's ass, over his back, and nestled on his curly blonde hair, forcing his head gently down.

Antoine took a deep breath and fanned his mouth, trying desperately to recall everything he had learned from his experience with Oscar. But as soon as his lips touched Lorenzo's cock, he knew he was in for a dissimilar ride. He slid his tongue out and started licking the precum off the tip's edge. It was slightly sweeter than his or Oscar's. The taste was as strong as the musky smell of Lorenzo's dick, sending Antoine into an altered state of mind.

He began rotating between licking and sucking the edges, trying to get used to the sheer size. He then unfurled his mouth more and swallowed two inches. He remained there, swirling his tongue around, licking the inside of the foreskin and glans. He was already laboring to breathe when Lorenzo drove the tip further down. Antoine gagged instantly but stayed there, his eyes beginning to water, spit, and slob skating off the edges of his mouth as he sighed softly. The boy started bobbing his head slowly up and down, occasionally coughing and releasing a soft gagging sound. As he pulled away from the base, he would collect all the precum and spit before driving back down again and resuming. He was now getting more confident, but he was maybe 5 inches inside and seemed unable to advance. Still, Lorenzo's head tilted in rapture as he enjoyed the boy's mouth. But as Antoine progressed further in his endeavor, the Italian stud's sounds became less recognizable. He snapped his head forward, glanced at Oscar, looked down at Antoine, grabbed the joint on the ashtray next to him, took a hit, put it down, and finally clutched Antoine's head with both hands.

"Good start, French boy. But now Lorenzo teach how you suck cock, sì? The Italian stud groaned.

Oscar gazed at Lorenzo's eyes as they swerved, almost shark-like, becoming soulless. Without warning, the stud started thrusting his giant staff inside Antoine's mouth. The boy's tender lips began stretching inhumanly, his eyes squinting, tears forming, and his face plumped red. Oscar saw Antoine attempting to pull away, but it was too late. Lorenzo had taken hold of him. He started propelling his pelvis into the boy's mouth with reckless abandonment. The 11-inch dick slammed inside viciously, again, again, and again.

Oscar was shell-shocked. He watched as his friend's mouth got ravaged. Antoine's soft moans had disappeared, giving room to a blubbering cry. Each time he tried to push away, Lorenzo would lunge deeper inside and more violently. The boy grasped for help with his hand, slamming Lorenzo's chest with it, but the Italian Bull grabbed his fists and arrested them behind Antoine's back with one hand alone, resuming his rampage. Antoine's eyes snapped open, and they foraged aimlessly around the room until they found Oscar's. They met again under the ear-piercing sounds of Antoine's gags and mewls, and Oscar stared, mesmerized, as he witnessed his best friend's sexual taming.

Lorenzo fucked the boy's mouth with no mercy for several minutes until he almost passed out. And then, gradually, it started to happen. Oscar could see Antoine's eyes as they changed, turning glazed with ardor and euphoria. Oscar saw his friend's fearful and shivering body morph into a feline in heat. His body stopped fighting back and was accepting Lorenzo's sexual supremacy over it. And his moanings beseeched the Bull's authority. The boy's plump lips stretched beyond recognition, his mouth wide open as the massive shaft slid inside with brutal force and fucked his mouth relentlessly. His eyes were rolling back in ecstasy. Feeling the inevitable shift, Lorenzo unleashed the boy's wrists. As soon as he did, Antoine grabbed the Italian stud's thighs and pulled himself closer, driving his mouth further down, glazing the stud's balls with buckets of precum and slob stowed in his mouth. And from its depths, the boy roared like an animal in heat.

Lorenzo suddenly clasped his head and pulled him away from his dick, struggling to do so as the boy forced himself down on it. As he removed him, a long guttural gasp exploded from Antoine's mouth as if stored there for ages. The boy dropped his head on the Bull's crotch, huffing and sniffing his dark bush like a dog. Oscar couldn't believe his eyes. What was happening to his friend? Why wouldn't Antoine protest or ask to stop? And why did he have a massive boner while he watched them?

Lorenzo pulled Antoine's head back until it was arched, and the boy's mouth opened before him. He spat on his face and then licked his lips several times before sticking his tongue inside and closing his mouth around the boy's swollen lips. Antoine's moaning welded with a gentle cry as the Italian hunk slobbered his mouth. As Lorenzo pulled away, Antoine's tongue pursued him, and as he leaned back on the couch, the boy followed and lodged himself beside the hunk, his lips clung to his neck, sucking on it, licking it. Lorenzo enveloped his powerful arm around Antoine's back while his right hand stroked his slobbered cock.

"Oscar boy, you enjoy show?" Lorenzo toyed with a devilish grin as Antoine slurped on his neck, his face completely sheltered, only his blonde curls moving in the frame. "Your friend is mine now. My new boy," he continued, lowering his voice. He then tilted his head to the side, touching Antoine's curls with his cheek as he uttered almost inaudibly. "Mio bel Ragazzo."

Oscar's heart dropped to his gut. Lorenzo knew what he was doing the entire time. What a sick fuck, he thought. He wanted to get up and punch Lorenzo. Stand up and walk out. But he couldn't. His mind was under a binding spell, and his body stuck to that couch. Cursed to watch his best friend fall prey to this twisted man. Lorenzo captured Antoine by the hair, and with a sudden jolt, he pushed him sideways. Antoine was kneeling with his ass up and his head against the couch cushion, facing Oscar. The Italian Bull took his mouth near Antoine's hole. He spread his cheeks using both hands and marveled at it.

"Mio Dio, virgin hole." He stated, chuckling to himself. Then he glanced at Oscar and pointed at him, warning, "Oscar boy, you stay there, yes? Look at French boy. Now I destroy his hole." He sounded, his tone now menacing.

Antoine's eyes were closed as Oscar gazed upon him. Oscar felt relieved. He couldn't bear to face Antoine at this point. To watch his friend handled like that. But his relief was short-lived. Antoine opened his eyes just as Lorenzo spat on his pink, tight hole. The boy released a sick-sounding chuckle. He then moaned, twitching his ass as he begged for the Italian's dick. Lorenzo obliged almost immediately. He stood further up, leaned over the boy, his 11-inch hard dick in his hand, and nudged the tip around the now moist entry. He used his hand to steady the monster between his legs and drove inside. There was a blaring holler and subsequent whimper. Antoine's arms were fidgeting uncontrollably, trying to push Lorenzo's hips away from him, but the stallion was relentless. He clasped the boy's wrists and started pounding his ass with unbridled resolve. The young boy's moans were getting vociferous, so Lorenzo pushed all his body weight on him and wrapped one of his arms around his head, covering Antoine's mouth with his large hand. The boy continued to look at Oscar, and despite the muffled screaming that now echoed in the room, Antoine's eyes begged mercifully for more.

Oscar's paralyzed state pivoted into complete angst. As he witnessed his best friend being brutally fucked by the object of his desire, he suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of jealousy. And it was there, as he stared at his friend, that he finally realized. It wasn't Antoine he was jealous of. It was Lorenzo. It should have been him fucking Antoine. Once he finally realized how buried inside of him this feeling was, he began to weep silently.

He cried for their lost innocence. For the "first time," they would never get to experience. For the way he disregarded Antoine's feelings, driving his friend and himself into this situation. He had pushed Antoine away to a place he couldn't follow. And with each slap of Lorenzo's hips on Antoine's sweaty butt cheeks, he felt his childhood friend slip further away.

Yet, he stayed there, tears rolling down his face as the wet slapping sounds and Antoine's muffled whimpering filled the room. All the while, the crowd noises from the football game kept playing in the background. Lorenzo fucked Antoine for over twenty minutes, then clasped the boy's body, jolting his back near his chest, his dick still throbbing inside him, sat on the couch, the boy's legs opened and facing Oscar, and continued to fuck him as the boy's hard dick bounced in front of him. Antoine's head arched back and nuzzled on the Italian stud's shoulder. He occasionally came up for air and glanced at Oscar, smiling with his mouth open, only to drop his head back again. Eventually, he stopped moaning and would release these sounds resembling a caged animal.

After another fifteen minutes of unrelenting pounding, Lorenzo lifted him, and for the first time since he started fucking Antoine, he pulled out. The boy's hole queefed, discharging air like a flattened balloon as large streaks of precum slid out while the gaped pink hole twitched and contracted, trying to close again.

"Fuck...dude, you're loosening me up so much..." Antoine uttered, collapsing on Lorenzo's lap, his legs spread and dangling in the air, his face flushed as he grinned and moaned. It had been so long since he heard his friend speak that Oscar had almost forgotten the sound of his voice. Lorenzo chuckled maliciously at Antoine's comment before turning to Oscar.

"Oscar boy, show over." He stated, with a commanding tone, "I see you later, sì? Go." He mandated.

But Oscar's body compelled him to stay. He fought to utter the words racing in his mind, but nothing came out. Tears kept pouring down his face. Lorenzo looked at him for the first time with a condescending look.

"He stay. I not done with French boy." He proclaimed. Then, he lingered on Oscar momentarily. "You are tall, yes? But you not grow up. Not ready for this. Leave." He ordered. He got up, hauling Antoine's exhausted body, and carried the boy into the bedroom. He tossed him on the bed on his back, lifted his legs, and pushed himself inside him again.

"Putain, arrête...j'en peux plus!" Antoine voice implored from inside the room.

"Yes, you can, French boy." Lorenzo asserted, hushing his pleads.

Oscar finally got up. His body was aching, like he had been comatose for years, and he could now see inside the room. Lorenzo battered Antoine's hole, his muscular ass moving with brutal force, smashing on that once-perfect pink sphincter. All he could see were Antoine's smooth legs dangling from the side. He could hear his moanings, but they were undefined at this point. Suddenly, Lorenzo turned his head back. Realizing Oscar was still there, he pulled out, turned around, and slammed the door shut with a flick of his right arm. Oscar could still hear inside, but there was nothing more to see.

"Wait...please...I need a break..." Antoine begged from the other side of the door.

"Shhhh." Lorenzo shushed.

And with that, the wet slapping, moaning, whimpering, slurping, and grunting resumed. And it didn't stop. Oscar exited the annex, circled the house towards the front entrance, walked up the long, large staircase, and tiptoed into his room. Once he closed the door, a deafening silence took over. Oscar stripped his clothes and stood naked on the balcony. He felt like he had just been through an out-of-body experience. Oscar even contemplated for a second the possibility that what transpired hadn't happened. But he looked at Antoine's empty bed and recognized that it did.

His best friend was no longer there. Everything felt different—alien, even his own body. Something had shifted.

This may be what it feels like when you start growing up, Oscar thought.

(To be continued...)