Date: Wed, 1 Dec 2010 18:13:24 +0000
From: Alex P <alexp336@gmail.com>
Subject: On the Poolboy Payroll 4

"The best laid plans of mice and men," eh? I left you hanging - and,
judging from some of the photos you guys have sent me, hanging pretty
heavily too! - with the wait for part four; sadly the real world
demanded my attention, and writing about Cooper, Alex and the rest of
the boys had to take a back seat.

Hope it's worth the delay. Feedback, as always, gratefully received at
alexp336@gmail.com

===

On the Poolboy Payroll - Part Four

***

Cat had licked me for another five or ten minutes, his teasing
spreading from my hole and up, across my balls, around the shaft of my
bobbing cock and then down, onto the smooth expanses of my inner
thighs.  Eventually, though, Brad had come out of the house and knelt
at the side of our lounger, close to Cat's head.

"Hey" he grinned, and whereas before - when we'd had an audience -
he'd been tough, thuggish with the Asian teen, now we were close to
alone at the deserted poolside he was surprisingly boyish and
friendly.  Cat glanced across, raised his eyebrows but continued to
play his tongue against me.

Brad reached out, not looking at me but taking hold of my erection in
his hand as he talked quietly to Cat.  I shuddered as the rough pad of
his thumb scraped across the delicate, swollen head, moving to rest -
and rub slightly - in the V-shaped underside where glans meets shaft.

"You wanna get spit-roasted on the table?" he asked Cat, nodding
toward the house.  The boy lifted his head.

"Fuck yeah!"

He looked up at me, face framed between my muscled thighs.

"Laters Coop!"  Standing, he brushed down his legs and wiped his wet
chin - slicked with spit and the juice from my ass - across his
forearm, before turning to trot to the open patio doors.  Brad looked
up at me, making eye contact properly for the first time.

"Sorry dude: work, y'know" and shrugged.  He was wearing a pair of
short-legged red swimming shorts, tight enough to show the hefty sag
of his well-stuffed basket, and out of which his tight, hard-muscled
torso spread.  Normally his face could be quite intimidating, but with
a grin it lit up.  I'd never really looked at black guys in this way
before, but all of a sudden I was very intrigued by this well-hung,
tough guy.

He started to stand, fist still wrapped around my dick, then bent and
sucked the plum-red head into his mouth.  His full lips brushed
against the ridge, while inside I could feel his tongue circling,
swabbing across my hardness.  Only for a few seconds, mind; then he
let go, stood fully, looked down at where I was lying.

"Play later?" and I grinned back at him.  He nodded.  "Cool."  Turned
and walked into the house.

***

After a few minutes - just enjoying the relative silence - I stood
myself, stretched my arms above my head as I felt the tightness of my
muscles ebb out of me.  I wasn't sure if Brad's invitation meant later
on today or at some other time in the future; either way, I felt
sticky and well in need of a shower.

I scooped up the discarded jockstrap where it lay by the lounger,
surprised none of Simon's guests had taken it as a souvenir of the
afternoon's debauchery, and headed toward the pool house.  It felt
strange to walk across the patio completely naked - cock swaying in
front of me - and somewhere near the back of my mind a quiet voice was
asking when I was going to sit down and consider exactly what had
happened to me today.

And yet, while my limits had proved, well, to be nowhere near
limiting, and while my ass was radiating with untold new sensations -
stretching, fucking, licking and more - none of it quite seemed to
register with me, at least not yet.  All I knew was that I could think
back to earlier events and only have my dick get harder, not suffer
some sort of terrible breakdown.

I walked into the changing room, and realised I wasn't alone.  A tall,
young guy stood by the lockers and was now looking over his shoulder
at me with a half-horrified expression on his face.  He wore the white
shirt of one of the waiters but, barring his underwear, was naked from
the waist down.  I'd caught him folding his trousers, obviously ready
to go back into his rucksack which sprawled out of an open cubby.

His eyes flicked down to my cock, back up to my face, and I suddenly
recognised him; the almost-emo guy who had served drinks while I'd
first been touched up by the pool.  Without the all-covering apron I
realised my first impressions, that he'd been angular and skinny, were
correct.  His legs looked strong enough but obviously weren't shaped
by frequent gym visits, and were covered in a light dusting of dark
hair.  He turned away, finished putting his trousers in the bag.

"Sorry, they told me I could get changed in here" he apologised over
his shoulder, looking into the locker rather than at me.  Beneath his
shirt-tails I could see the surprisingly plump curve of his ass, clad
in bright pink briefs with grey piping around the legs.

"Sure," I said, eyes tracking up the narrow cinch of his waist and
then to the glossy head of almost black hair, "I just needed a
shower."  He chuckled.

"Yeah, I bet."

I frowned.  Okay, so he served drinks and I got fucked by strange men,
but I wasn't happy being laughed at.

"Whatever, dude, I'm showering.  Have a good one."

I started to walk over to the stack of towels piled neatly on a table
near the shower stalls.  Suddenly the waiter turned around.

"Doesn't it, y'know, hurt?" he asked.  I didn't really need him to be
more specific, but I was still pissed over his implication before.

"Doesn't what hurt?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes a little.  "Getting fucked.  Getting fucked
in the ass."

I grinned at him, smirked a little.  "It feels fucking amazing."

He blushed, glanced down at the floor.  Front on, I could see the
white, creamy expanse of his chest through his open shirt, a little
definition leading down to the tight waistband of his briefs.  I'd not
seen much hint of bulge thanks to the apron before, but now I could
see some decent heft cradled in the bright material.

"I've got a girlfriend" he blurted out, and I frowned, confused.

"Great, good for you" I began to reply, but then he stepped forward,
closed the distance between us and wrapped his hand around my dick.

"I'm not gay, okay" he insisted.  A reply didn't entirely seem
necessary - I got the feeling he was talking to himself really, trying
to reassure against whatever messed up messages must be going round
his head right now.  Not gay, got a girlfriend, but with your hand on
another guy's erection and - I could see - starting to throw a pretty
decent bone yourself.  Yeah, I knew how that sort of situation could
get confusing for a dude.

I reached up and pushed his shirt from his shoulders.  He was narrower
than me, not quite as lithe as Cat but certainly skinny and taut.  As
the shirt fell he briefly let go of me, tugged the cuff off his wrist
and over his hand, and then quickly took hold again, as if afraid of
letting me out of his grasp for longer than a few seconds.  Looking
down, I saw my cock filled his hand nicely; I knew it would be slick
and wet still from Brad's mouth and the various juices that had been
spilled recently, perfect in fact for sliding a friendly fist along
its thick length.

"Do you... y'know, do it a lot?"  His tone was tentative, obviously
nervous, while his hand pulled rhythmically along my shaft.  For the
moment I didn't touch him, left my arms hanging at my sides as his
rapt attention was captured by my dick.

"It was my first time.  Today, I mean.  You watched my first time."
Somehow, saying it out loud made it feel real; like, until now it'd
been just another jotting in the margin of my diary.  "Tidy room, put
in laundry, get fucked."

"Whoa..." he whistled, softly.  I could see his other hand groping at
the front of his briefs, cupping the growing meat inside.  I reached
out, hooked a finger at the waistband and pulled a little.

His head sprung up, deer-in-the-headlights, as if - despite having his
hand on one of my most intimate parts - he'd forgotten there was
another person actually attached to it.  I smiled, gently, hoping to
put him at ease and at the same time a little amused; that was
probably the same sort of expression I'd had the other day, in a
similar situation with Alex.

I pulled his briefs out, down a little, and his cock bounced free.
The elastic snapped up to hug the underside of his scrotum, pushing
everything forward.  It was the second uncut dick I'd seen today, and
the first pierced one; a shiny chrome loop hooked through the end, the
precum-slick pucker of his foreskin drawn back slightly to reveal it.

"Dude" I said, a little surprised.  He glanced down, then back at me,
smirking a little.

"Yeah, I know.  My girlfriend thinks it's awesome."  He tossed his
head a little, moving the bangs from in his eyes.  I chuckled.

"Does she do this?"

Although it pained me to pull my cock from his deft fingers, I dipped
to my haunches and quickly pulled his hardness to my mouth.  First
mushing the folds around the head to my pouting lips, I opened up just
enough to let him guide his length into me, the metal of the ring
unusual as it dragged along my tongue.  I sucked, just a little, and
felt a warm, salty flood of precum ooze out, before driving the
stiffened tip of my tongue underneath the stretchy hood.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" he chanted, hands either side of my head now,
guiding my wet, juicing mouth along his prick.  I steadied myself with
a grip on each of his furred calves, feeling the muscles tense and
flex as he set up a gentle, thrusting pace against me.  Eventually his
balls were bouncing against my chin, my nose pressing into the snarl
of sweat-damp, musky pubes.  His thumbs traced carefully around the
crenulations of my ears.

"Coop, seriously, with the help, man?"  Alex laughed from the doorway,
causing the waiter boy to jump and try to pull away.  I quickly moved
one hand up between his legs, holding his ass in place and keeping his
dick in my mouth as I used the other to flick Alex the finger.  He
laughed again, groped his bulging cutoffs conspicuously, and winked at
us.

"Have fun, boys."

As he left, I could still feel tension in the almost-emo.  I redoubled
my efforts, circling my tongue around the salty knob, digging it into
the piercing; meanwhile, I let my finger trace deeper into the crack
between his cheeks, finding it lightly furred and damp.

"No... I mean, I don't..." he started, but I ignored him; hell, I'd have
made the same weak protestations myself a few days before.  Instead I
felt his legs half-buckle as my fingertip glided across the ridges of
his hole, not lingering long enough to worry him unduly but setting up
a careless stroking motion that soon had him purring.  I'd come a long
way - a week ago, I'd hardly played around my own ass in the privacy
of my bedroom with the lights off.  Now, I knew from personal
experience how mind-blowing a spit-slick finger could be, digging
evilly around your prostate, and how fucking intense the cum was
afterwards.  The feel of another dude's lips around your dick, well,
that was an awesome bonus.

I should've felt guilty, squatting in front of him and feasting on his
prick, but I didn't.  I felt powerful, and sexual, and I could feel
precum dripping from me onto the floor between my splayed thighs.

"Fuck, you're... you're so fucking... fuck, take it all" he grunted,
semi-wordless in heat, cocking his hips forward so that his glans
pushed its way half into my throat, then yanking them back so that my
finger would graze across his ass.  "Fuck, I'm gonna blow."

Pulling away didn't seem like an option - either to my sex-charged
brain or to almost-emo's hands gripped tightly around the sides of my
head - and so I used the flat of my tongue to grind the underside of
his cock-head, pressing it against the ridges on the roof of my mouth.
 He grunted again, moaned, and I felt the hard jets of his spunk
against the back of my throat; three, four, five rapid pulses and then
the cloying, bleachy tang of it spreading to fill my taste-buds.

"Whoa, fuck, I blew in your mouth dude!"  He was astonished - even
though his tight hold had given me little choice in the matter - and I
looked up at him as he pulled his rubbery, softening dick from between
my lips.  I grinned, let a trickle of cum ooze out from the corner.

"Dude, nasty!" he complained, and I licked it away, gulping the last
of the thick seed down and letting myself finally sit down on the
tiled floor.  It was cold against my butt, and all of a sudden that
shower I'd initially been intending to grab seemed all the more
excellent an idea.

"Your girlfriend not do that?" I asked, playfully, smirking at him.
He was looking at me half-amazed, half-disgusted; shook his head,
resigned.

"No, no she fuckin' doesn't."  He looked disappointed at that; I
wondered whether, despite my naivety, and relative inexperience, I'd
spoiled him for her, and her for him.  "I fuckin' wish!"

I reached an arm out, and he grabbed me and helped pull me up.  Now he
seemed a little scared, perhaps worried I was going to try to kiss him
or maybe push him down and force him to return the favour.  I didn't.

"Dude, I gotta shower."  I scratched my chest, made a show of sniffing
under my arm; I shouldn't have bothered, the musk of the day's
exertions was strong.  I was semi-hopeful he'd join me - I didn't know
what exactly I wanted to do with him, but he seemed curious enough to
experiment a little until I figured that out - but he backed away,
reached down to tuck himself back in his briefs.

"I... I should go" he stuttered, and I nodded in agreement.  Grabbed a
towel from the pile and flicked it over my shoulder as I sauntered
into the showers.

"Yeah, have a good one."

***

The absence of a mother screaming at me to stop using up all the hot
water meant I probably stuck around under there far longer than I
ought to.  Still, I figured Simon had got a pretty good show out of me
for his guests this afternoon, and he could likely afford the heating
bill no questions asked.  I'd soaped myself twice, feeling tentatively
around my hole half-expecting it to be wide open and gaping.  Instead,
it felt almost like normal - a little softer, more pliable than when
I'd played my fingers around it before, perhaps, but not the
train-wreck I'd feared.

The rest of the soap had been to ease away the sweat, spunk and other
juices I'd acquired, and by the time I stepped out, roughly towelling
my unruly mop of hair, I felt spick & span again.  Moving over to my
bag, I realised someone must have been into the locker room while I
was in the shower; there was a new pair of underwear on top, where
before I'd dumped my jock.

I picked it up, held out the soft, smooth fabric.  Squarecut, short in
the leg, with a well-shaped pouch at the front which seemed almost
over-stitched.  I finished drying my legs and around my crotch, then
stepped into the stretchy blue material, pulling it up and tucking my
softened cock and balls into place.  The pouch pulled everything
forward, my bulge jutting out and my ass held neat and high by the
seams that ran diagonally across each cheek.

I'd packed a pair of loose cargo shorts, reckoning I'd need a change
of clothes for the ride home, and they hung low on my hips.  An inch
or so of waistband peeked over the top of them, and the front sagged
noticeably around my over-pronounced crotch.  Something told me this
was Alex's handiwork - I knew enough about him to realise this was
just his style (and, I guessed, the style he liked to see other men
sporting) - but I couldn't really argue with the end result.  Pulling
on a vest and running my fingers through the tangle of my still-damp
hair, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed out.

He was waiting for me, leaning back against the shaded wall of the
poorhouse with his arms crossed and big sunglasses on.  I chuckled; he
looked a little like a male version of the street-walkers my parents
and I had driven past once, after we'd gone downtown for a meal, taken
a wrong turn on the way home, and ended up piecing a route back
through the red light district.

"Yo, Coop, leaving us so soon?"

I smiled at him, shrugged.  "You got yours, Alex, didn't you?  What's
left to stick around for?"

He chuckled.  "I got mine, the waiter got his..."  I thumped him on the
arm, playfully.  He held out his hands, palms forward, as if to calm
me down.  "Okay, okay, I get it.  You could make a dude jealous,
that's all."

There was a smile on his face, but I felt a shiver in my stomach all
the same.  Up until now we'd been playing - yeah, playing seriously,
the sort of play where I got fucked with an audience - but now there
was a hint of something more... something more personal perhaps?  I'd
assumed I was Alex's latest toy, his newest project, and to be honest
hadn't given it all that much thought; no, I was too busy coming to
terms with the feelings and sensations radiating out from my
inexperienced body as he - and his cast of poolside friends - brought
out a side of me I'd never known was there.

I blushed a little, looked down at our feet.  "Jeez, dude..."

He reached out, brushed an errant strand of hair back from near my
face.  I don't know why he picked that one bit over all the other
semi-knotted tangles, but it felt somehow more intimate than anything
we'd done that day.

"Ah, Coop" he started, then paused.  "Look, dude, you wanna come over
to my place tomorrow?  Chill for a while?"

"Sure!"  I was probably being over-eager, but knowing he wanted to
spend time with me had lit a new ball of excitement in my stomach.  I
guess that strain of hero-worship from the gym hadn't quite expired.

He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
"Midday, maybe?"  I nodded.  "Great.  Oh, and Coop, nice threads."

My eyes rolled at him almost of their own accord.  I hooked my thumb
into the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down an inch or so more
to show off the shiny blue material of the boxer-briefs.

"Fuck the threads, dude," I told him, "it's what's inside that counts."

Alex laughed at that, loudly, and it felt great.  He pushed gently
against my shoulder, propelling me a step backwards down the path.

"Get lost, wiseguy; I'll see you tomorrow."

***

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in my bedroom mirror when I got
home, bag dumped on the floor and sandals kicked off.  It pulled me up
short.  Hair still damp from the shower, wind-messed from the drive
home with the roof down, I stopped and looked at myself.  It was
stupid, I knew, but I felt like I was different somehow; like the
events of the past week or so had changed me outwardly.  Perhaps it
was simply the scale of the changes going on inside, and a sense that
things so significant should have an outward impact too.

And what would that outward impact look like?  Times had moved on
enough so that I wouldn't be wearing a scarlet 'G' on my chest,
branded gay and shunned by society.  If anything I was smiling more,
making more eye-contact, being more forward where previously I'd been
shy to the point of reticence.  Eighteen years old and I didn't have a
clue, and Alex was helping me to figure my shit out by fucking me
while strangers watched.  No, it wasn't the classic way to come of
age, but despite some queasy misgivings still in the pit of my
stomach, I couldn't really argue too much with it.

***

I was up early the next day, and spent the rest of the morning pacing
like something caged.  Alex had said midday and I wanted to be there
on the dot; that meant several hours anxiously checking and
re-checking the clock just to make sure.  It was strange, I'd
obviously spent time with him before - at the gym, at Simon's - but
being invited to his home, where I guessed it would be just the two of
us, felt like a far bigger step to my head than his taking my
virginity yesterday had been to my body.

I'd expected some post-sex consequences, either physical or mental,
but so far my conscience had proved pretty uninterested.  When I'd
tentatively felt around my ass in the shower that morning, things felt
no different there, either.  Tight as ever, in fact, gripping at the
single digit like a hot glove.  My sucking off all those strangers
perhaps triggered a bead of guilt, but only in a "man, I drank too
much" way, where you grin sideways and hardly regret it at all.

As yesterday I was wearing my cargo shorts - chunky with pockets and
reaching to around the knee - and the blue boxer-briefs Alex had left
out for me the previous day.  I'd only worn them for the drive home,
and then changed into sweatpants as soon as I was back, so it didn't
feel too teenage to get a proper day's wear from them.  A
short-sleeved t-shirt, sandals and a smudge of hair wax to keep the
unruly mop in place, and I was done.  That had taken all of half an
hour, leaving me plenty of time to clock-watch.

Eventually, though, it was time, and I steered the Mini downtown to
Alex's address.  He didn't live all that far from the gym, only in the
other direction to my parents' house, in a pretty new apartment block
maybe 10 or 12 stories high.  I pushed the door buzzer, heard an
almost-inaudible "come in", and then took the elevator to his floor.

A door was open across the lobby, and I guessed that was Alex's place.
 Walking across I kinda missed how he would come meet me halfway down
the path around Simon's house, guiding me in the last few feet and, in
some way, finalising the transition between the Cooper that did his
quiet thing outside of that place, and the Cooper that came alive by
the pool.

His head popped out around the door-frame, grinning as usual.

"Coop!  Dude, where've you been?"

I glanced down at my wrist, even though I knew I wasn't wearing a
watch.  It was bang on midday, I was sure of it; I'd even sat in the
car for a few minutes, staring at the clock, timing it just right.

"What can I say, dude, I'm a busy guy" I joked back with him, and he
shook his head mock-sorrowful.

"You'd better come in, then, busy guy."

***

His apartment was nice - big for just one guy - with plenty of windows
and a decent view.  Not over-cluttered like my parents' place.  He
gave me the tour when I first walked in, and we ended up sprawled at
either end of the broad sofa in the living room.

"It's good to see you, Coop" and I smiled back; I'd only seen him the
previous day, but it felt good to see him again now.

He was wearing a sleeveless vest with a few buttons at the neck - all
undone - and it framed his muscular chest and impressive arms nicely.
Turned to me on the couch, one bare foot on the floor and the other
leg bent and with his arm wrapped around the knee, his cut-off
sweatpants hung a little lower than mid-thigh.  They also clung quite
noticeably around his crotch, the grey material having a fair few
interesting bulges going on.

For my own part I'd mirrored his pose, though after kicking my sandals
off I had both legs up on the chair; one up like his, the other folded
flat in front of me.  After sitting down I'd pushed my hips forward,
reckoning it would pull my shorts around the outline of my groin.  A
quick glance down confirmed that was definitely the case.

"So how are you feeling?"

I wasn't sure how to answer; was that just a friendly question like
you'd ask anyone, or was he referring to what we'd been doing
yesterday?

"Um... I'm good" I hedged, smiling sheepishly.

Alex rolled his eyes.  "You're good, well that's good isn't it.
Good."  He snorted.  "Man, Coop, you're a guy of few words!"

I shrugged, still smiling.

"What about that waiter guy yesterday, did he fuck you?"

The question caught me off guard; I mean, I'd assumed Alex would know
that all I'd done was blow him, but then again why would he?

"No!  I mean, no; you're the only one that fucked me yesterday."

His lips tightened into a smile as he nodded.

I held his eye-contact for a beat.  "And it felt pretty fucking amazing."

I expected him to laugh, or to swat at my knee and tell me to stop
messing around, but he didn't.  Instead, he looked me in the eyes and
told me "Yeah, it was pretty fucking amazing for me, too."

For a while neither of us had anything - or knew quite what - to say.
We just sat there, watching each other, thinking about how we'd felt
the previous day and the things we'd done.  Alex broke the silence.

"What are you wearing, Coop?"

I glanced down again, momentarily confused then figuring out what he
was talking about.

"The blue ones you left out" I told him, briefly reaching down and
gripping gently at the mound of my crotch.

"Heh, so you figured that was me?"

"Sure, nobody else gives me underwear dude; well, only my mom."

He raised his eyebrows, jokingly.  "Your mom buys you underwear like that?"

I pushed his knee, playfully.  "No, idiot; you've seen what my mom
buys me, and you weren't all that impressed if I remember right."

Alex nodded.  "Well, Coop, I'm impressed now.  Wanna show me?"

I stood, unfolding my legs and standing just in front of the couch.
As yesterday, my cargo shorts hung loosely on my hips; the first inch
or so of the boxer-briefs were visible anyway, where my t-shirt had
crept up.  I thumbed the snap of the shorts, then purred the zip down.
 Eventually they fell down to my ankles, and I stepped out of them.

Half-naked in front of Alex.  Again.  I was more confident this time,
though very away that this wasn't some bizarre job to help an odd
voyeur get his rocks off; this was me and another guy I almost
idolised, alone in his apartment.  I could feel his eyes all over me,
roaming up my bare, slightly hairy legs, across the bright, clinging
blue of the boxer-briefs and the heft where my cock pushed out the
pouch, and then the bright white of my t-shirt as it draped across my
torso.

"Enough?" I asked him, half-hoping he'd say no - that he wanted to
look at me some more - or that he'd instruct me to take off something
else, take it all off until I was stood naked in front of him like a
naughty boy at the front of a classroom.

"You're a hot little dude, you know that Coop?" was his reply, and I
saw him tug obviously at his crotch through the stretchy material of
his sweats.  I could feel my dick starting to harden.

"What are you wearing, Alex?"  He squinted up at me.

"Under these?"  He plucked at the grey fabric.  "Nothing, man, nothing at all."

I smiled.  "Wanna show me?"

He laughed, out loud, and I guess it was funny - my mimicking attempts
at seduction.  Instead of standing, he held out a hand to me; I
stepped forward to take it, and he pulled me down until I was
half-kneeling, half-sitting on the couch between his spread thighs.

Up close his eyes were even more piercing, but I was having more
trouble ignoring the heat from his hand as it rested on my bare leg.
His other hand was teasing through some knots in my hair, at the back
just below the crown.

"Come here."  And he pulled me in, hand on the back of my head guiding
me to him, as our lips pressed together.  Chaste, at first, and then
parting slightly so that his tongue could feather against me and then
dual with my own.  My eyes were closed and my hands in his hair, a
tight grip as I moved my mouth on his and felt his own hands cradle my
head and the small of my back.  He hugged me closer, the smooth
material stretched across my butt sliding easily across the fabric of
the couch, my legs opening wider to fit in around his own.

I'd kissed him before, but there was a new hunger now, a new level of
intimacy we'd broken through to.  I reached my fingers down, tracing
the contours of his chest and stomach, hard behind the thin fabric of
his vest.  One of his hands had come to rest under my ass, squeezing
one of my cheeks.  In return, I dropped a hand to his groin, exploring
what was hidden by the stretchy material there.

His cock was firm, thick; not quite at its hardest - a feeling I knew
well, inside and out - but still more than a handful.  I pressed my
fingers around it, fighting the fabric of his sweatpants, tracing the
broadly flared head.

"Take your shirt off" I told him, and he did, looking at me curiously
as if surprised I'd taken the dominant role.  His chest was as broad
and tanned as I remembered it, nipples hard on top of slabs of smooth
flesh.  Even propped up on the couch, the tapering V of his torso was
defined - narrowing tightly into the low-slung waistband.  I pressed
my thumbs into the etched muscle just above his hips, his skin hot to
my touch.

"Am I gay?" I asked.  It wasn't what I'd expected to say, but my brain
obviously had other ideas.  The question hung between us; Alex's
forehead creased as he looked at my face, his fingers gently tracing
circles across the material of my briefs.

"Does it matter?  Would it change how this feels, this right now, either way?"

I knew he was right, but I wasn't happy, not completely anyway.  I had
eighteen years of conditioning in my head, a guy's muscles in my hands
and a boner in my pants; I needed more than vague platitudes and a
promise to think about it some other day instead.

"But do you think I'm gay?" I pressed him.  He glanced down, then
looked back up at my face; I knew he'd seen my swollen dick, was under
no allusions about my arousal right now.  "Alex, I don't... I don't know
what's happening this week."

He pulled me in close to him, half picking me up with his broad hands
under my ass cheeks, until my legs were astride his waist and his
knees lifted to rest against my back.  I felt a little like a child,
propped up against a parent, only I could also feel this parent's
erection underneath me.

"I think... I think you're finding out a lot about yourself.  And I
think some of what you're finding is that feelings - sexual ones - can
surprise you with how strong they are, where before you didn't know
they existed at all."  He moved his hands up my thighs, fingertips
slipping under the tight legbands of my briefs.  "Now, you could say
that it was pretty gay to get off on another guy touching you;" his
fingers pushed further up, just grazing where my legs joined my
crotch, "or you could say it was pretty gay to get fucked in the ass
by another guy."  I could feel his gentle touch as he brushed against
the root of my hard prick.  "Or, you could say that dudes do stuff
with dudes and it doesn't fucking matter one way or the other."

Now his fingers were tracing the base of my shaft, one hand dug up
inside my briefs and the other rubbing a thumb about my closely-held
balls through the satiny material.  I glanced down, to see a dark
patch begin to spread where the head of my cock was clearly outlined.

"I like doing stuff with dudes" I told him, breaths getting heavier.
I reached my hands down, under my ass, to tug at the waist of his
sweats; they pulled up his thighs easily.  His dick was hot against my
butt.

"And dudes like doing stuff with you, Coop" he grinned, making tiny
circles with his hips and grinding himself on me.  "I like doing stuff
with you."

"Tell me what you like doing with me."

He smirked, and I had a glimpse of that same animal passion he'd shown
when he'd fucked me the previous day.

"I like touching your big teen cock, I love feeling it hard in my
hands and knowing it's my body that's getting you horny.  I like
getting my fingers wet with your dick-drool and stretching your ass
open with them.  I love seeing the look of surprise on your face when
you realise how much you like it, how much your ass wants the
attention."  I moaned, just slightly; the combination of his touch on
my tightly-wrapped groin and his dirty, forbidden words made me
shiver.  Alex squeezed the head of my dick between his fingers.  "I
love how much you leak when I touch you, and I love knowing I can fuck
the cum out of you and then make you eat it.  Because I can, can't I
Coop.  You're desperate for me to fuck you now, to press you down and
drill you until you spunk, and then you want me to make you swallow
it."

I screwed my eyes up tight, reaching underneath myself to feel the
thick length of him, completely hard now and throbbing against my
palm.

"Maybe that's being gay, Coop.  Maybe being gay isn't just wanting
some guy to screw you - because I know you liked it, I know you want
to get screwed right now - in front of a load of strangers.  Maybe
it's about wanting to be with another guy and be honest with yourself
and what your body wants, how your brain wants it to be."

I didn't know if he was right; I didn't know if he was talking
bullshit.  All I could feel was the rush of blood to my head, and his
hands on me, and the knowledge that it was me that was getting him
just as turned on as I was.  He tugged my briefs up to my knees, the
taut fabric holding my legs together and leaving my cock gripped
tightly between my thighs and my balls pushed through underneath.
Instantly his fingers were on them, pulling the tightened sack away
from my crotch, gently separating the churning globes with his thumb,
rubbing the hardened length of flesh between them and my hole.  His
erection was between us, the head sticky as it touched my sweat-damp
skin.  With both thumbs he pulled at my tight little ass, tipping my
body backward, legs still caught up in my underwear as he played with
my most sensitive places.

"Cat's licked this fuck hole clean, hasn't he Coop.  He sucked all the
juice out - all my cum from yesterday.  And then this morning, did you
slip a finger in?  Did you check to see if you were still tight?  I
can tell you now, Coop, you're still fucking tight.  I can hardly get
my finger in here."  He pushed his fingertips in-between my thighs,
smeared them around my jerking cock head, and then returned to my
hole, using the slickness to ease his way in.

"I want it so bad, Alex" I half-sobbed, and he grinned, nodded at me
as his fingertip broached me and the length of his digit drove up
inside and made me gasp.

"I know you do, buddy, I know."

He lowered me all the way back, now; gently parting his legs so that
my torso was flat on the sofa and he was kneeling up and over me.  My
thighs were still clamped down on my cock, his finger still kneading
the flesh of my ass as he loosened my hole.

"I'm gonna take these off you now, Coop" he explained, pulling at the
briefs, "and you're gonna hold your legs back and show me everything,
okay?"  I nodded, whimpered as I felt the bluntness of a second finger
press into me.

With his free hand Alex stripped me completely, and I reached up and
caught hold behind my knees and pulled my legs apart.  Framed between
them I could see him, stripped to where his sweats were tugged down to
his knees, chest heaving as he breathed great, ragged gulps of air,
eyes burning across my face, my flat stomach, my cock where it jumped
and twitched in its painful hardness.

"Fuck, Coop, I could cum on you right now."  I could see him giving a
few casual strokes to his swollen inches, his other hand never ceasing
as it probed inside me.  I imagined how it would be, Alex jerking
himself as he scissored open my hole, eventually leaning across the
spread of my thighs and spurting juice against me. I could picture how
I must look, some tight-body little teen open wide like some internet
slut, yanked back legs leaving everything on show.

"Keep your legs back, Coop, while I put my dick in you."  It should've
sounded stupid, but I could feel my ass twitch in anticipation. Alex
pulled his fingers free, wrapped his hand around his cock and pressed
the wet head to my hole. For a moment all his attention was fixed down
the rippled expanse of his stomach, to where he nudged against me.
Then, looking up and holding my gaze, he tilted his hips forward and I
felt his broad glans grind against me.

I gasped - even with the work his fingers had been doing, even after
all my ass had accommodated yesterday, it was still only my second
time with a guy - and he grinned, nodded minutely as he applied
pressure. I felt my skin stretch, spread around his width. He leaned
lower, his torso between my thighs, as the flare of his cock-head
popped through my ring and he fed a few thick inches inside.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck Alex"; I was panting, trying hard not to wrap my
calves around his ass and pull him closer to me. The sensations
radiating out from my groin were incredible - fullness, insane heat,
that same alien feeling that so confused me but which was so
addictive. "More, please more."

Alex pulled his knees in close to my ass, thighs grazing my tautly
stretched cheeks. I could feel another inch of him push into me,
achingly slow, teasing. Eventually I couldn't hold it, hooking my
heels against his buttocks and using them to drive the whole length of
his dick into my ass. We gasped together, breaths heaving, as his
sparsely shorn pubes ground against my balls.

"In you all the way, Coop, you're fucking taking my cock" he told me,
and I growled my reply, bucked my hips up as if to get that imaginary
extra half-inch inside.

He was slow, at first, gradually easing back a little and then sliding
up against me again, feeling my hole dilate around his girth as my
burning ass accommodated his heft. As we found our pace - him pulling
further and further out, until only the head was lodged in me, and
then smoothly, unrelentingly pistoning it back - I let my legs rest
about his lower-back, my hands free to grip his face instead. I
dragged him down, until his lips were smashed hard against my own, all
semblance of innocence gone and instead a sucking, tonguing mess of
passion.

"Your hole is amazing, Coop" he told me, between kisses, as I
jack-knifed my ass against his thrusts. "I could fuck you forever."

He dug his arms underneath my shoulders, as I pulled my torso tight
against him, then lifted us both - his prick still grinding at my
prostate - until I was sat in his lap. A combination of his arms
wrapped around me and my flexing legs kept me bucking on his dick.
There was no pain or discomfort now, only a feeling of massive
fullness and of course that heady, full-body shiver of sexual
pleasure. My cock was trapped beneath us, jerking haphazardly against
the ridges of our abs, slicked with precum and sweat.

I pushed him back, until he was lying against the broad arm of the
shoulder and I clung to his chest, humping my body to him. While I'd
quickly grown to love the weight of Alex over me, there was something
about being in control, of guiding the pace of our fucking that felt
incredible. From the look on Alex's face, he was getting into it too,
his hands pulling at my butt to spread me further.

We tried to hold back, tried to prolong the feel of his length inside
of me, of my ass clenching down on him, of my burning thighs as they
teetered on the edge of cramping while I flexed them to slam myself
into his lap. His arms were under my shoulders, forearms hooked back
with a fistful of my hair twined in his fingers, tugging my head back.
The slickness of his tongue lapped at my neck, as he buried his face
against my taut skin.

"Gonna breed your hole, Coop" he gasped, punching into me with sharp,
staccato growls. "Fucking cumming in your ass, dude."

I gripped the sides of his face, pulled his head up to join our lips
again. His erection felt fatter now, spreading me wider. He growled
into my mouth, holding me down by his iron-fingered grip in my tangled
hair as his hips strained against me; I could feel him spurting
inside, the instant slickness of his final strokes. With one hand
still locked against my head, Alex pulled me back and, with the other,
circled the bloated, throbbing head of my cock with his fingers,
tugging and twisting as I hummed and twitched in his lap.

It took less than a minute - seconds, nothing more - and I burst, the
pressure of his still-swollen prick at my prostate and the rough pads
of his fingertips coaxing against the angry, purple flare of my knob.
A hot, wet blast of spunk spurted out, spattering against his
sweat-slick chest and immediately sagging down to where our groins
were joined; another, and another, as his fingers plied my shaft,
milking out each almost-painful blast. Then it was his thumb, brushing
firmly - too hard, too much on my over-sensitive hardness - and
bringing a final threadlike length of cum to my lips. The hand still
at the back of my head left me no room to argue, inexorably joining
finger to mouth as I suckled my juice away. And then our chests were
together, his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

***

We'd sat, cooling like ticking engines, heart-rates easing, for five
minutes, Alex's thumbs tracing tiny circles on my shoulderblades.
Eventually I'd shifted, coyly lifting a leg over him and separating
our bodies. I wasn't sure whether the feeling down my inside thighs
was sweat, his cum dripping out of my well-used ass, or simply the
burn where his leg hair had rubbed against me.

"Shower" he'd told me, standing and leading me to the bathroom.

The water was hot, steam instantly billowing, and the standalone
shower big enough for us both to step inside and share the spray.
Somehow I felt that same blush of shyness as I had the other day; that
sense that, even though Alex and I had just shared something
incredibly intimate, it was still more so to be there, soaped and
naked, in each others' presence.

As I washed my hair, his hands spread across my chest, fingers flexing
in my armpits, shower gel easing down my body. It was sexual -
everything with Alex felt sexual, somehow - but affectionate and
innocent at the same time: just two guys, comfortable in each others
presence; a bonding of sorts. When he took my cock in his hands I felt
myself half-harden, but the uncontrollable erection held off. Instead,
I leaned into him, forehead resting on his muscled shoulder, the water
unable to find a way between our bodies.

***

I still wasn't sure that I was gay, even after all we'd just done.
But, curled up with Alex on his couch, this time wrapped in bathrobes
and watching some mindless film on his widescreen, I knew that -
whatever my sexuality - I had feelings for him. His chuckle, the way
his foot half-pressed against my calf whenever he found something
funny; yes, there was obviously something physical between us, but
that swell of glee in my brain that I felt when I was talking to him,
those first days in the gym, still caused my head to tingle when we
were around each other.

He must have noticed I was deep in thought, maybe after I missed a few
obvious laughs. I turned, feeling his eyes on me.

"Always thinking, aren't you Coop." It wasn't a question, so I just
grinned at him, shrugged a little. I didn't know what he'd say if I
told him exactly what had been preoccupying me. Was the extent of my
appeal some combination of youth, innocence and - though I blushed
even to think it - a tight ass? Or was there a spark of something
more? Despite our earlier intimacy, all we'd done, I couldn't think of
a way to guide a conversation to somewhere safe to ask.

A handful of popcorn hit me, broke the reverie. A few pieces slipped
down the front of my robe; the rest I scooped up and began to feed
into my mouth. Alex smiled.

"I'll be after those few when this bowl is empty" he warned me,
winking and grabbing another handful of his own. Being honest, I
didn't think I'd put up too much of a fight.

===

A little shorter than the other parts, but if I waited any longer
Cooper would've been in his fifties before this hit Nifty! To be
honest I'm not sure where to take the story next; I know there are
plenty of avenues - and plenty of boy-on-boy combinations - still
open, but I'm not sure whether to pursue an Alex/Coop relationship
(which, while sweet, isn't really what I feel like writing these days,
despite the apparent popular appeal judging by many of the lovely
emails I've had) or to take it back poolside and bring it back to its
roots.

Alternatively, I've got the rumblings of some other story ideas, so
perhaps it's time to let Cooper strike out on his own for a while, and
I'll find some other boys to torment. I'm open to suggestions, so let
me know what you think - and what you thought of part four - at the
usual place, alexp336@gmail.com. Thanks!