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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Be Rad - 37. Chapter 37

October 27, 1980

The dining room was packed tonight to celebrate Claire's birthday. Stef and Greg had flown up just to join us for the evening, and Jack's parents came over as well. We had all been surprised when Claire said she didn't want a “Sweet 16” party, but she was adamant. No one pressured her about it, and we let her guide the way. This was bound to be especially painful for her. In the past, she'd always celebrated her birthday with Billy.

I thought about that. Her relationship with Billy had been tight, but not like I'd envisioned twins to be. They were very different people, and they never seemed to quite be able to build that really personal bond. Like the bond she and I had, I thought with a smile.

Watching her open her presents was really fun. Sometimes, when the mood struck, one of us would go apeshit and spend lots of cash on birthdays or holidays, but it wasn't expected. Normally something nice was just fine. But this was Claire's 16th birthday, and that was special. Ace, Robbie, Mouse, and I had all pooled our money (OK, it was Stef's money) and got her a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet. She loved it. My parents followed the theme with a pretty diamond necklace, and Stef capped it off with gorgeous diamond earrings. They were stunning. All of this largesse was nice, but it didn't compare to the present she got from Jack. He got her a promise ring, with a beautiful sapphire that almost perfectly matched her eyes. It could easily have been an engagement ring, but presumably that would have required a diamond. It just took one look at the two of them to tell they were totally in love. Stef also bought her a bunch of clothes from Paris. They had a blast arguing with each other over whether they were actually fashionable or not.

After dinner, I got my biggest reward of the evening. We were in the Great Hall with the Hobarts when Jack's mother noticed my painting.

“What a wonderful painting,” she said, and walked up to it, assessing it with the attitude of an art collector. “I love the other elements in it, the glass and metal. Where did you find this?”

“Bradley painted it,” my mother said. I tried not to beam with too much pride, but to have Jack's mother pick my painting out of all the art in the room to comment on was amazingly flattering.

“Well Brad, you are quite a talented young man.”

“Thank you Mrs. Hobart,” I said politely, and felt myself blush. Mouse grinned the biggest. He understood how valuable praise was to an artist.

After the party broke up I retreated back to the studio and worked on the painting I was making JP for Christmas. Mouse joined me, and worked on the sculpture of Jeff. It was really cool.

“So Mouse, I was thinking that maybe you and I could work on a joint venture for Greg for Christmas.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked curiously.

“I was thinking maybe you could do a bust of Stef's face, and I could paint it. With the kiln, couldn't we bake it and glaze it?”

“We could,” he said. “Why are you grinning?”

“Well, I was thinking of doing a different kind of expression. I was thinking about trying to capture his expression when he's blowing his load. Orgasmic Stefan.” Mouse started laughing, and so did I.

“You're on. You think you can sketch his expression for me?”

“I'll do some research.”

I headed downstairs with my sketch pad and knocked on JP's door. “Come in,” he said. I found him in bed with Roger. They were such a cute couple.

“Hey guys,” I said cheerfully. “I need a favor.”

“What is it?” Roger asked cautiously.

“Well, for Christmas Mouse and I are going to make a bust of Stefan for Greg.” They nodded. That seemed like a nice thing, no big deal. “I need your help with his expression.”

“Why do you need our help?” JP asked. He knew I was up to something.

“Well, we've already given it a name. Orgasmic Stefan. We wanted to capture his expression when he's in the middle of cumming.” It had been a long time since I'd seen JP laugh, but that did it. I guess with all of the stress of the past months, he'd just held so much in, and that was the spark. He laughed so hard he cried. “I mean, I realize there are lots of people I could go to,” I said, joking, “but I figured having you two here like this would make it easier.”

I sat on the bed with them and my pad. I'd already drawn the basics of Stef's face, so now it was just getting the expression right. “His mouth, he opens his mouth and makes an 'ahhh' sound,” Roger said.

“That's right,” JP added. “And when he really gets into it, you can see his teeth, kind of like he's snarling.” We laughed some more.

“And his eyes,” Roger said. “He squints them but they're still open pretty wide.” I re-drew his eyes.

“Yeah, but he rolls them up into his head,” JP said.

“No he doesn't,” argued Roger.

“Maybe not for you,” teased JP. I had an absolute blast with them, changing the drawing as they remembered things about him, or argued about his quirks. By the time I left their room, I was exhausted from laughing. I got back to the studio and found Robbie there looking for me.

“What have you been up to?” he asked.

“Gary Englin stopped by and I blew him,” I told him with a serious expression.

“Really?” asked Mouse, wide-eyed.

“No. You guys are so gullible. I was working on the sketch of Stefan.” I showed it to Mouse and he started cracking up.

“What is it?” asked Robbie.

“It's Stef having an orgasm.” He laughed so hard he literally rolled on the floor.

“Mouse, we have a lot of work to do. We’d better get going,” I said.

“I think you need a break,” Robbie said. He moved in behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I sunk back into him. Mouse looked at us, nervous, but with lust in his eyes. Robbie picked up on that and unzipped my pants.

“Hey Mouse, is it OK with you if I fuck him right here?” Robbie asked. He was using that husky voice of his, the one that told me he was taking charge.

“S-s-sure,” Mouse stammered. “Go ahead.” Robbie slowly undressed me, taking time to run his hands all across my body, my chest, and my nipples. I didn't like having my nipples pinched or squeezed hard, but I loved having them played with. He knew me, knew my body, and worked it perfectly. Mouse sat there, tenting big time, staring.

“Hey Mouse,” Robbie said. “Give me a hand will you?” Mouse walked over nervously. I felt Robbie's hand move off my throbbing cock and run up and down my ass crack, teasing me, getting me excited for what came next. “Suck on his tits. Suck on his nipples,” Robbie said.

Mouse looked nervous; not wanting to cheat on Dan, but sucking on nipples wasn't exactly a cheatable offense, was it? I felt his mouth land gently on my chest, his tongue flick my nipples gently. I pulled his head to my chest, urging him on. He moaned, moaned into my chest. I moved his head to the other one and he worked it too.

Robbie had dropped to his knees and had dived into my ass, running his tongue around my hole, rimming me like the expert that he was. God, he was good at that. I moaned and thrust my ass back into his face. I wanted Mouse to work on my dick. I didn't ask, I just moved his head down my abdomen, feeling his tongue flick at my belly button and his teeth nibble on my trail until he got to my dick.

He inhaled me. I was so focused on him and his mouth I didn't notice that Robbie had lined himself up. He entered me, and the combined stimulus was amazing. Mouse worked my dick, worked it like a good cocksucker. “That's it Mouse, suck that dick. Suck it,” Robbie ordered.

Mouse moaned into my cock. I wasn't going to be able to last very long with this kind of stimulation. “I'm gonna cum,” I said, more of a moan than anything. “I can't stop. I'm gonna cum!” And then I blew, shooting shot after shot down Mouse's throat while Robbie pounded my ass. I finished up with a sigh and looked down as Mouse looked up at me, licking his lips. He smiled at me and stood up, his pants tenting like crazy, and kissed me. Robbie kept going, and it was kind of uncomfortable now that I'd cum, but locking lips with Mouse like that made it all tolerable.

I heard a huge groan from behind me, and Robbie just blasted into me. He grabbed my hips and pushed into me as hard and as far as he could. Mouse maintained the kiss with me. He was so good at that. I felt that fire that he had sparked in me and that fire helped me fully enjoy Robbie's orgasm.

We stood there afterward, panting. I heard a movement and saw Dan standing there watching us. I was stark naked, with my limp dick hanging there. Robbie was naked from the waist down, while Mouse was fully clothed.

Mouse was horrified. He ran over to Dan. “I'm sorry Dan. I'm really sorry.”

“What?” he said, smiling. “You were just kissing him. Besides, that looked fucking hot.” His pants were tenting too. “Come on Mouse, let's go spend some time together,” he said, and took Mouse's hand and led him downstairs. That was close. What if he'd come in just a few minutes earlier and caught Mouse sucking my dick? Would he have been pissed?

“That was awesome,” I told Robbie, “but we have to be careful not to fuck up Mouse and Dan's relationship.” He nodded.

“You're probably right. It would have been kind of fun if he'd joined us though,” Robbie said.

“Dan? You wanted Dan to join us?” I was surprised. Robbie had never shown any interest in Dan from a sexual standpoint.

“I think it would have been cool to watch him fuck Mouse while you fucked me,” he said.

“I thought I was the kinky one?” I asked, teasing.

“You just make me so horny,” he said.” “It makes me more adventurous than I've ever been before.”

I kissed him gently. Some guys would be excited to hear their boyfriend say that, to want to really fuck around and have a good time. I thought I would be one of them. I wasn't. Somehow, this new willingness of his to include other people in our sex life was threatening to me. I felt like maybe I wasn't enough for him. Like maybe he needed more than I could offer. Like maybe I didn't make him happy.

November 4, 1980

Things had started to mellow out at school. It was almost normal, now that we'd gotten beyond the shock of being out, and now that Billy's funeral was over. All things considered, Robbie and I were pretty lucky. I thought about Jerome, the only other “out” gay kid at Gunn a couple of years ago. His life had been a living hell. He couldn't walk down the hall without someone slamming him into the lockers. He got his ass kicked regularly, usually after school, and almost nobody would dare to talk to him. His nightmare had been my nightmare, but I got lucky. My experience wasn't like his.

I think there were a couple of reasons for that. First, neither Robbie nor I was as wimpy as Jerome. Anyone slamming me into a locker was going to get slammed back. Add to that the fact that we had a lot of friends, including the whole football team, for backup. Any dumb ass who messed with us physically was really going to end up hurt.

Probably more important was the popularity factor. Jerome was a dork, and he didn't have any friends even before everyone found out he was gay. We never had that problem. Being at the top of the high school social heap helped. I guess it could have been an issue; we could have been ostracized. That didn't happen, and I was cynical enough to attribute that to money. If we were broke, I don't think that we'd have been able to pull it off. It helps when you can throw killer parties at the drop of a hat. And it helps when you have a kick ass car and a perfect wardrobe. And there’s the other thing Jerome didn't have: a built in support group. With Ace and Claire, and even Billy, it would have been really tough to shut us out.

So it had settled down to the point that we didn't flaunt our homosexuality, and that let everyone else pretend that we weren't queer. I was fine with that. I didn't need to make out with Robbie in the halls. I didn't need to take him to the prom. We just weren't into pushing the issue.

I walked past a couple of freshman who stared at me, open-eyed. I glared at them and they vanished like a deer that heard a gunshot. I wasn't a bully; that's just how you're supposed to treat freshmen. I headed out to my car and found a pretty big surprise. Scott Seaton was standing there, leaning against the back targa top section, looking sexy as hell. He had blond hair that got really nice highlights in the summer. It hung loosely down around his face, cut short but with a windblown look that perfectly framed his long narrow face and his perfect, straight nose. Yeah, he was hot, but then he smiled, and turned up the magnitude by an infinite factor. Perfect teeth, bright white teeth, and dimples that seemed to come from nowhere when he smiled, completed the look. And then there was that body. His body was perfect. Firm, muscular, with very little body hair, and standing over six feet tall.

“Hey Brad,” he said, and put his arm behind his head, stretching. His movements were smooth and lithe. Putting his arm up like that accentuated his big bicep, stretching the band on the sleeve of his Izod and riding it up a bit, exposing a little of his underarm hair. The problem with Scott is that he oozed charm and testosterone to such a degree that he was completely irresistible.

“Looking for me?” I asked. Fuck. It was almost impossible for me to be around him and not flirt.

“If this is your car. I need a ride home, so I looked for the baddest car.”

I opened the door and hit the unlock button to let him in. “Yeah, I get that a lot. People love me for my car. I bet if I drove a piece of shit I'd be awfully lonely.” He chuckled.

“I doubt it. You're a fun guy.” He just kicked back while I negotiated my way out of the parking lot. “So what are you doing right now?”

“Gotta go vote. It's my first time. So that means I've got time. Why?”

“Well, weren't you supposed to blow all of us?” he asked, teasing.

“Yeah, but I'm not that easy. You have to at least take me out to eat first,” I joked back. “Want some?” I asked, pulling out a joint.

“Hell yeah,” he said, taking it from me and lighting it like an expert. We got really stoned as I drove him home. He lived in the same neighborhood that Cass did, only a few blocks down.

“So where's your car?” I asked.

“My dad's car is in the shop so he borrowed mine,” he said matter-of-factly. Most guys wouldn't be that calm about giving up their car, but Scott was pretty laid back. “You wanna come in?” he asked.

I shrugged and followed him inside. He grabbed a Coke and tossed me one and led me back to his bedroom. Scott was the ultimate desirable guy at Gunn, so actually going to his bedroom was like getting to hang out in a bedroom at The White House.

It was a typical guy's room: Blue walls, furniture that was probably bought when he was around 13, a double bed, and a couple of posters on the wall. One of Farrah Fawcett-Majors and another of Christie Brinkley. He collapsed onto the bed, with his arms behind his head. His biceps bulged, and the sexy wisp of pit hair poked out again. I felt my dick getting hard. His eyes watched me and he had a knowing grin on his face. I was so busted, checking him out. “Have a seat,” he said, motioning toward the bed.

I sat on the bed, next to him, next to his crotch in fact. He planned this whole thing. He knew what he wanted; he wanted me to suck his dick. And I wanted to do it. I wanted to swallow him whole. But there was that uncomfortable pause. Who would make the first move? If I was a chick, he'd already be on top of me with his tongue down my throat, but this was different.

Of course he would be the one to break the nervous silence. “Here,” he said, tossing me a Hershey's chocolate bar. “Does that count as taking you out to eat first?” I laughed and so did he, then his hand moved down and squeezed his crotch suggestively. I looked up at him and moved so I was kneeling between his legs. The mood of silence was behind us. His hand was on his zipper, sliding it down seductively. Then he opened his pants up and let his hardening cock plop out. I got up and locked his door, and he gave me an appreciative look.

I helped him take off all of his clothes, completely stripping him. If I was going to blow Scott Seaton, I wanted to make sure it lasted, and that I got the whole experience. He lay back on his bed again, totally nude, with his dick now hard, poking about seven inches out from his body. I ran my tongue along the shaft and around the head, teasing him, taking in the beauty of his organ. It was on the thin side, and curved slightly to the left. Long and narrow, the perfect dick to get fucked by. I pushed that thought aside. I was the one who said no fucking.

He responded to my teasing by thrusting up at my mouth, asking me with his motions to suck him. I took him in my mouth and gave him the whole treatment. I really worked him, up and down on his pole, taking as much as I could, savoring his smell as my nose got close to his bush. He didn't make much noise, just small noises, whimpering. He was one of those guys who just wanted to lie back and enjoy the ride. Hot.

I felt his balls move up and knew he was getting close so I pulled off of him and looked up into his light blue eyes. They had that crazed look, the look that guys get when they're close to blowing their load. I sucked on his right ball and saw him toss his head back and spread his legs, giving me more access. I worked each ball, and then moved lower, wondering what he'd do. He bent his legs, giving me access to his taint. I nuzzled it with my nose, making groaning noises as I did, and heard him gasp a little bit. I flicked my tongue lower still toward his hole. He must like that, because he lifted his legs up, giving me full access.

Normally rimming is something I'm really into, but Scott wasn't into hygiene apparently, so as sexy as his taint was, his ass was a little nasty. Still, I gritted my teeth figuratively and ran my tongue around his hole gingerly, biding my time until I'd done it long enough to justify the maneuver, then I moved back up and took his dick into my mouth again. Now I was on a mission to make him cum and he knew it. He let me control everything, the depth, the speed, everything. It was awesome. I kept him on edge for a bit even then, teasing him mercilessly, watching him writhe around on the bed, moaning softly as he tried to thrust his dick into my mouth. Then, a few bobs up and down his pole, and he shot his load.

Either this boy was a volume shooter or he hadn't cum lately. It was awesome, not only the volume, but the length of time he blew. He came forever, just twisting and thrusting, not in a way that tried to ram his cock down my throat, but because he was enjoying himself. After he was done, I took my hand and grabbed the base of his cock and slid it up, squeezing the last drop of cum out of his dick. I licked the last drop off the tip in a slutty gesture that got me a cute grin.

Now that he was done and it was over, things started to get weird. I knew that pattern. I'd done this sort of thing before. “I gotta run,” I said. He smiled at me, thanking me for making this so easy, way easier than any chick ever would.

“Cool,” he said. As I got to his bedroom door he stopped me with his words. “Thanks man. That was the best head I've ever gotten.”

“My pleasure,” I said, leering back at him, naked and sexy on his bed.

“You won't tell anyone about this will you?” he suddenly asked, nervous.

“Fuck no. If I did you'd never let me do it again.” He laughed at that. “You won't either will you? I've got a boyfriend who might get jealous.”

“Nope.” I strolled out of his house with a grin on my face and a raging hard-on. I headed to the polling place to vote, and cast my first ever ballot for Ronald Reagan. If he wins, I hope he keeps Brenda Hayes and her type in their place.

Election night was a big deal at our house. After a quick interlude with Robbie, we camped out in the television room with my parents watching the results come in. They'd called Reagan as the winner long ago, so we hung around waiting for confirmation, or just to try and recapture the excitement that the rest of the country got to feel. Being on the west coast meant that things were pretty much over by the time our polls closed. Besides, all the papers projected that Reagan would sweep California anyway. California usually voted for Democrats, but Reagan was one of us. Our former governor and a former movie star, what could be more Hollywood than that? That night we went to bed knowing that we'd have a new president in a few months. He sure couldn't be any worse than Carter, could he?

November 21, 1980

Another party on Friday night, this one to watch the solution to the ultimate cliffhanger. Dallas had left us at the end of last season with JR Ewing shot, possibly dead, and that had caused a national craze. If you believed the papers, all anyone wanted to know was who shot JR. My money was on Sue Ellen, his alcoholic wife. A couple of people had joked at lunch a few days ago that Escorial would be the perfect place to watch the show, it being the closest thing to “Southfork” that Palo Alto had. Ace sprung into action this time and got our parents to go for it.

That's how I found myself in the shower with hot water pouring over me; getting ready for the big event tonight. I heard the door slide open and felt a familiar shape move in behind me. Robbie, so sweet, so sexy, wrapping his arms around me and enveloping me in his warmth and his love. We got out, smiling and drying off, when he surprised me with a question.

“Hey, remember how we said it was OK to blow anyone on the team?”

“Yeah,” I said cautiously.

“You done anyone?”

I hadn’t told him about Doug or Scott, but I didn't want to lie to him. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” he said, gulping. Something was bothering him.

“Who?” I asked.

“You tell me and I'll tell you.”

“Un uh. I asked you first,” I said, stalling for time.

“Gary Englin.”

“Scott Seaton and Doug,” I replied.

“You blew Doug?” he asked, looking irritated.

“He's on the team.” I could tell this irritated him, but there was something bothering him. “So how was Gary?”

“Rough,” he said.

“So don't blow him anymore,” I said.

“I didn't say it wasn't fun, I said it was rough. He likes to fuck your face. He grabbed my head, one hand on each side, and just rammed his dick in and out of my mouth. He's only packing about five inches, so it's kind of fun.”

“If you like it, and it's so much fun, why are you bringing it up?” I asked.

“He wanted to fuck me,” he said.

“Did you let him?” I felt my heart sink. That was the deal, right? Pretty much anything oral was OK, but anal wasn't.

“I don't know if you'd call it that. He just got really pumped up, turned me around, ripped off my pants, and fucked me really hard.”

“Just like the guys did in Claremont,” I said.

“No, it wasn't like that.”

“Oh? And how was it different?” I was trying to keep my cool, but I was getting seriously pissed off.

“Those guys made me feel shitty about doing it. He doesn't. He's rough when he fucks me, but nice afterward.”

“Wait a minute. Present tense? How many times have you done this?” I was losing it pretty fast.

“I don't know, four or five times.” I stared at him. “Maybe more. I didn't count.”

“You know, I didn't mind messing around with those other guys, it was fun, but when I worried about it fucking up our relationship, I figured that fucking was special, that making love was something we did together, only. Now you make me feel like a slut. And you make me think that you're one too, probably even more.” There was no way that he could miss the sheer anger in my voice.

“I figured that you'd understand, and that you'd be forgiving, just like I've been,” he said, throwing Marc in my face.

“Alright, that's fine. Throw Marc in my face. Fine. We're even now. So now you can't ever bring him up and make me feel guilty again.” I just stood there glaring at him.

“Fine, we're even,” he said, just as pissed off.

“You know what's different about this?”

“There is no difference,” he said.

“There is a big fucking difference. I fell for Marc's charms, yeah, but it was a onetime thing. You keep going back for more. And I begged you to forgive me and promised that I wouldn't do it again. All you've done is tell me that you liked it. You haven't told me you are going to stop letting him fuck you. You haven't even said you're fucking sorry.” I was yelling now, and the realization of that calmed me down.

“I'm not sure if I want to stop. I'm not sure if I can,” he said.

“So you want to be with him?” I asked. “I mean that little to you now that you'd toss me away for a guy who's a rough fuck?”

“I don't want to lose you. I want you to understand,” he said, pleading.

“Oh I get it now. You want me to say fine, we can still be together, go fuck whoever you want.”

“Yeah. That's what I want you to say.”

“You know, if it was different, if you hadn't dealt with this shit before, it would be a lot easier to go along with that. But this isn't fucking healthy. This is going to totally fuck you up.”

“I'll be fine. It's just fun. I didn't ask you for a fucking psychotherapy session, I'm just asking you if we can change the rules. If you say no, fine. I'll try and be loyal. But I'm not sure if I'm strong enough, and I'd rather be honest.”

He had left his anger behind and now he was pleading with me. This was bullshit. “Alright, you do what you want. And I'll do what I want. And I'm going to fuck as many guys as I can. And when you lean against my door and hear some guy moaning like crazy, remember that it's your fucking fault.”

“Brad...” he said.

“Get the fuck out of my room. You want to come in here, you ask.” I walked to the door and opened it up. “Move!” I yelled. He walked out, sheepishly hanging his head. I slammed the door behind him.

I looked at my watch. People would be getting here in about half an hour and Dallas started in about an hour and a half. I didn't give a shit about the party; I didn't give a shit about watching Dallas. Right now I was so pissed off I didn't give a shit about anything. I headed up to the studio and took out a new canvas and literally threw paint at it, kind of like Pollock but not as cool. There was paint everywhere, but I didn't give a shit. I just flung it at the canvas, one color after another, venting my anger and irritation.

I paused from my tirade and tried to figure out my options. I could either go with what Robbie wanted or not. If I did, our relationship would suffer, we'd grow apart, and I'd resent him for it. And he'd get weirder and weirder as he banged Gary. If I didn't, he'd keep doing it, he'd just hide it from me until I caught him, and then we'd have a big explosion and we'd be over. As long as he was fixated on Gary, we were doomed. The only real hope was that he'd get over him, realize that he wanted me and not Gary, and we'd get back together. And then the question would be, when that happened, if I'd be willing to recommit to him to the degree that I had before. Probably not.

One thing was for sure: there was no way I was going to just sit around and let him get his rocks off while I fell in love with my hand. I looked at my watch. People were here by now. I headed back to my room and took another shower and picked out some different clothes. The first person I ran into when I walked into the Great Hall was Gary Englin. Irony of ironies.

“Hey Gary,” I asked in a friendly tone. “You got a minute?”

He looked a little nervous. This guy bore a slight resemblance to Christopher Atkins, only he had massive muscles. He was starting to look less like a football player and more like a real body builder. He followed me to my room and I locked the door behind us.

“I want to know why you don't like me,” I asked.

“I like you. What do you mean?”

“You've been fucking my boyfriend for quite a while now, and you never even tried to get in my pants.” I walked up to him and ran my hand across his chest. Damn. He was solid muscle.

“He told you?”

“We're a couple. Of course he told me. So you think you can show me why he says you’re fucking amazing in bed?” I asked, moving my hand down his chest and to his zipper.

He smiled and then grabbed me, kissing me hard. He took over, dominating me. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered, as he did the same thing. I did as he said, and stood there naked and hard.

“Damn you're hung,” he said a little sadly. “I'm not so lucky.”

“It's what you do with it that matters, and so far, you're impressive as hell.”

He moved in and grabbed me, kissing me again. He pushed me onto my bed, and fell on top of me, grinding into me as I wrapped my legs around him to urge him on. This guy was one solid muscle. He moved up and grabbed my face on both sides and moved his dick to my lips, pushing through them and into my mouth. I sucked him willingly. He was a lot of fun. His hands held my head firmly, with a gentle caress as he thrust in and out of me. His legs squeezed against my chest, reminding me how much more powerful he was than me.

He stopped after a while and rolled me over. I tossed him some lube and he put it on quickly and haphazardly, and then he lay down on me and thrust into me. Thank God he was small. And then he started pounding me, literally pounding the shit out of my ass. Robbie was right, it was hot as hell. This guy was all muscle, and he knew what he wanted and he took it. He slammed into me and that made my dick rub against my bed. I blew in no time at all, and he followed me almost immediately.

Then as he lay on my back, he nibbled on my neck and pulled out slowly. “That was amazing Brad. That was fucking awesome. Thanks man. You're the best.” He rolled me over and smiled at the jizz that was all over my crotch. He kissed me on the lips gently. It was really nice. Really nice.

“Thank you,” I told him. “So you think you'll spend some time with me too?”

“Definitely. Definitely.” I got a towel for each of us and cleaned up. He was done first, so he left and went to the party. I got there a few minutes later and saw Robbie looking at me worriedly. I ignored him and started talking to Scott. He'd sampled my oral skills. I wondered if he'd be up for a repeat performance. I saw Gary and Robbie talking in the corner, and then Robbie glared across the room at me. He was pissed. Good.

We were all gripped by the Dallas episode. Not that it was that good, but we wanted to know who the fuck shot JR. Turns out it was Sue Ellen's sister. So I was wrong about that. I was wrong about a lot of things these days.

Some people bailed after the show was over, but most of us decided to go swimming. I stopped Scott. “You ever seen the rest of the house?” I asked him. He grinned and looked around; making sure no one saw him sneak off down the hall with me. As soon as I got him into my room I was on my knees and he had his cock out. It was fast but fun. God, he was fine. As soon as he blew he put his dick away, zipped up, and we walked out of my room. Perfectly enough, Robbie was just walking out of his room. Only he was alone.

“You got a minute?” he asked.

“Not really. I need to show Scott down to the pool.”

“I know where it is,” Scott said diplomatically.

“There are bathing suits in the dressing room,” I said. As soon as he was out of earshot I turned on Robbie. “What?”

“You fucked him,” he said.

“Who I have sex with is no longer any of your God damn business,” I told him. “I've been faithful for a long time, and I'm finding out there are a lot of guys out there who are a lot of fun. And they WANT to be with me.”

“So that's it? You're dumping me?”

“Fuck you. You're the one who did this. I wasn't enough for you, remember? Everything we've been through, all the lies you told me, like when you said you loved me, all of that you threw aside for some guy who fucked you hard. I could have done that if you would have asked me, but no. So don't you ever fucking question what I do, and who I have sex with.” I stormed down the hall, leaving him staring at me.

I had a mission now. To get laid by as many guys that night as I could, and to make sure that Robbie knew about them. Then I saw Doug. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said to me cautiously. He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation.

“It's not really a good idea for us to be talking, so I'll make this fast. Spend the night.”

“Me? What about Robbie?”

“We don't have much time. You willing to spend the night or not?” I pushed.

“You got it,” he said, and walked off.

The party was a lot of fun. I put Robbie completely out of my mind, and focused on having fun. Around 1am I caught Doug's eye. “Tired?” I asked him.

He looked around. “Not really. But that doesn't mean I don't want to go to bed.”

“Meet me in my room,” I told him. He left and I watched his cute little ass as he walked away. I told Ace that I was tired and bailing, and he was cool with it. I found Doug kicking back in my room and I closed the door but made sure it wasn't locked.

“So what's going on?” he asked.

“Robbie and I changed our relationship. We're not exclusive any more. So I'm free.”

“And you came looking for me?” he asked, flirting, making those dimples pop.

“Yeah.” I jumped into bed and pulled him on top of me. We were only wearing bathing suits; his skin against mine felt so good. He kissed me, such a good kisser, and thrust against me. He stood up and took off his suit and I pulled mine off, and then he was back in bed with me in a 69 position. I rolled over on top of him, taking his cock in my mouth, savoring that unique smell of his. I felt his mouth on my dick, then my balls, and then on my taint. I moaned and moved my ass down, begging him to pay attention to it. I felt his tongue run across my hole, tentatively at first, then more urgently. I stopped sucking on him and just moaned, enjoying the attention.

I grabbed some lube and slathered his dick. I turned around and looked at him, his eyes wide, as I lowered my lips on to his and my ass onto his dick. I worked him for a bit, and then he pushed me off and onto all fours, and he moved up behind me and reentered me. Feeling him inside of me was nice, but it didn't have the same meaning as it did when I'd been with Robbie. Thinking of him, I looked at the door and saw it open, just a bit, with Robbie watching Doug fuck me. I moved back into Doug seductively, begging him for more, and that did it. I stroked my own cock and blew right along with Doug, with my eyes locked on Robbie as I enjoyed my orgasmic bliss.

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Drama, Drama, Drama; my god to be a teenager again would not be worth it no matter what... The writing just keeps getting better and better; Mark and those helping him are doing such a damn good job...

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This chapter is really the beginning of a toxic pattern for our heroes. Thank you for all the hard work.

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What a complete fuck head Brad is. Revenge sex always bites you in the ass.

California usually voted for Democrats, but Reagan was one of us.

Actually no. From 1952 to 1992 California voted Republican in Presidential elections, except for Johnson in 1964. The only reason Clinton beat Bush in 1992 was Ross Perot pulling so many votes from him. Post 1992 CA has been Democrat, but this isn't the place for that discussion.

In 1980 Carter lost because everyone hated him, including a lot of blue collar Democrats. Carter got his fair share of evangelicals because of his open, born-again faith. The only state Carter got more than 50% was his home state of Georgia. If it hadn't been for conservative John Anderson and the Libertarian candidate, Reagan would have won 49 states. Carter was just a fuck-up and everyone but yellow dog Democrats voted against him.

I mean that little to you now that you'd.....

And Robbie meant "that little" to Brad as he fucked around with guys. What a fuckin' hypocrite. I think most people are hypocrites in one form or another, me included, the difference is I am fully aware of my hypocrisy, Brad is clueless.

 

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3 hours ago, PrivateTim said:

I think most people are hypocrites in one form or another, me included, the difference is I am fully aware of my hypocrisy, Brad is clueless.

 

It’s hot when you admit to errors or flaws. 😃

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