Date: Thu, 3 Sep 2015 02:11:57 +0000
From: Bruce Demosthenes <sourceskid@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dominated by the door next door 18

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***

Sunday morning when I woke I rolled over quickly to see if Peter was still
in my bed, in the wake of his mother calling while I was sucking on his
cock the night before and his maybe already waking up sober and realized he
was naked in my bed in the bright light of day.

Not only was he there, he was wide awake lying next to me looking at me.

I didn't know what was going through his mind.

He hadn't bolted which was a good sign.  But he also wasn't saying anything
and lay there expressionless which was a bad sign.

If his mother hadn't called during my sucking him the night before, which
had clearly freaked him out, I would immediately begin sucking his morning
wood as soon as I was awake.

Should I make the first move and try to suck him or would that cause him to
bolt or get angry?

I decided it was too risky to initiate or even propose sex.  He wasn't
asking for it so he probably was still upset.  Best I proceed cautiously.

"Are you hungry," I asked.  I figured this was the best approach.  If he
wanted sex he would tell me.

He nodded.

I threw on a bathrobe, even thought I was already wearing boxers, and went
downstairs.

I made scrambled eggs and sausages, which I had as staples in the kitchen.
I made some coffee though I didn't know if he drank that.

When he came into the kitchen he had only put on his briefs, which was a
good sign.  He knew his clothes were in the bedroom closet as I had fetched
him his phone to answer that fateful call from his mother.  If he had
gotten fully dressed that would have been a bad sign.  Then again he hated
clothes and was always in his underwear in his bedroom so best not to read
too much into it.

I served him breakfast at the kitchen table.  He looked so hot at the glass
table through which I could glance occasionally at his stuffed package,
surreptitiously so as not to spook him, but wanting to commit it even
deeper to my memory in case we were never to have sex again.

Peter complimented my eggs on being moist, something I am proud of and
doubted he would even notice (the secret is timing and a little cream in
the milk).

Turned out Peter doesn't drink coffee but he had several glasses of orange
juice, including one while he sat there in his underwear and watched me
clean up.

After the clean-up Peter followed me upstairs. Peter fetched his clothes
from the closet and started to get dressed.

"You could take a shower," I ventured, not wanting him to leave.

"I don't have any clean clothes," said Peter.  "Easier to shower at home.
Plus I have a ton of homework today."

My heart fell in disappointment and my stomach began to churn in panic.

Was this it?  Were we done?

"I have lots of work too," I hesitantly ventured.  "I could bring my laptop
to your place and do my work there.  I could even help you with your
homework."

This caused Peter to laugh, just as I watched his briefs disappear behind
his pants as he pulled them up and began to do up his zipper.

I didn't know if he was laughing because this was a preposterous idea;
given that in his mind we were done and I just didn't realize it yet.

"You know that is just a story we told my parents," he said with a big
smile now on his face.  It was the story he had concocted to let me
'babysit (the fact he was referencing it and smiling was a good sign).

"Doesn't mean I couldn't help you," I said, now smiling and being less
desperate.  And that fact was I could actually help him being a writer and
former journalist.

Peter pulled on his shirt and sat on my bed and considered my suggestion as
he pulled on his socks.

"I need to go now and shower yesterday off my skin and rinse the cobwebs
from the beer out of my head.  But sure, why not."

I didn't know if by showering away yesterday he meant the stuff we had done
or his mother's call or just the feeling of not being clean.

As he went down the stairs I dropped the bathrobe and got in the shower.

I took my time and let the hotwater run over me as I figured he must be
doing the same.  I had been rattled by his mother calling with him in naked
in my bed.  And I realized it took me a while to feel clean, which was
probably his feeling as well.

I dressed and then went to Peter's house.  I had a key to let myself in
this week, but I hesitated using it as it wasn't my home.  I was about to
ring the doorbell when I figured I might as well check to see if he left it
unlocked.  He had.

Letting myself in, I decided to set up my laptop at the dining room table.
I got set up and actually began to work when Peter shouted my name.  He
must have heard me come in.

Going upstairs I entered his room and there was Peter with a towel around
neck, naked, sporting a hard-on.  It was breathtaking his large hard cock
pointing 'sort of' straight up on this naked teenager (it was straight from
side to side but there was a curving out and up to it).

I didn't need to be asked.  I dropped to my knees and began to lick and
suck his cock.  My throat was still sore from the day before but he didn't
seem to care I wasn't deep throating him this morning.  He let me work on
his cock on my knees in his bedroom before taking hold of his cock and
stroking it as I sucked on the head.

After a while of sucking on the head, which made me think maybe that after
his shower he decided to pick-up where we had left off the night before, he
said "suck on my balls" (not as forcefully as last night but I didn't need
to be ordered, it had long ago been established I would do whatever he
asked me.  Then, a short while later, he said "get back on the head" and
began to stroke harder and faster.

The speed he was stroking his cock, and his gasps, told me he was about to
shoot his first load of the day.  I was so excited I would be beneficiary
of this (given all my doubts earlier) I sucked so hard I thought the head
of his cock would burst.

He erupted!

It was a load as big as Friday night when he had been edging.  I swallowed
as fast as I could.  As he had just showered, while he was naked and could
clean himself off with a washcloth, I didn't want to spill any (for his
benefit when it came to cleanliness and for my benefit because I wanted
every drop).

When the last of his shots were in my mouth and I was swallowing it down,
he just pulled his cock out of my mouth and walked to his dresser.

Peter pulled out a drawer and fetched out another pair of Diesel underwear,
this time lime green Diesel trunks, and pulled them on as I got off my
knees.

When I first started watching Peter just on the street, he only wore white
briefs or boxerbriefs though seemed to wear coloured boxers.  Once I
started watching him through his bedroom window I learned that the coloured
boxers all had humorous pictures and, when I could make them out, humorous
messages.  The briefs and boxerbriefs were always white.  Lately he seemed
to be branching out into colourful briefs and boxer briefs (I wondered if
that was for my benefit, but that was probably just wishful thinking on my
past.  He had already moved to designer briefs when he rejected the Fruit
of the Looms, so it was probably just a response to all the varieties out
there).

I also was struck by the fact that this boy could pull off any underwear,
and that is not just my view as someone who worshiped the ground he walked
on.  I have always had a thing for underwear and some guys can pull or some
better than others.

Peter had taught me the merits of boxers early on when I was watching him
go to school as in his baggy clothes it allowed for his big cock to swing,
but aside from that effect, they did nothing to accentuate a body.  Most
guys I had dated and slept with usually could pull off only one style.
Long legs and skinny usually looked better in briefs.  Solid build often it
was boxerbriefs.  Peter looked hot in anything.

Each style of underwear had a different effect (yes I know I am biased).
Yesterday his Diesel briefs made him look taller and lankier than he is
(and his slim) and they looked constantly like they were in a fight to
contain him.  These trunks allowed his big package to be also framed and
seemed to even make more of the contours and veins of his big cock visible
to the viewer.  They also made his body look nicely divided into three:
smooth slender upper body, solid hips with a huge package, and firm almost
muscular legs.  He appeared compact.

As Peter sat at his desk and fired up his computer I reluctantly left his
bedroom and the hot sight of him in these trunks and went downstairs to try
to focus on my own work, made more difficult with the taste of this boy's
cum fresh on my tongue and my awareness that he was one floor about in
bright green underwear.

Throughout the day he would shout for me and I would come up to his room
and suck him off.

The first time he called for me, after post-shower load, he was sitting at
his desk not doing homework but looking at straight porn on the internet.
He motioned to under his desk and I climbed into this small space and
taking his cock out of his underwear sucked him while he surfed and watched
videos and, for all I knew, chatted with girls on line.

Not sure why the introduction of straight porn into our sex.  It is not
like he needed it to get hard or get off.  Maybe it was because what we
were doing wasn't sex.  Perhaps his mom's call had rattled him or maybe he
just wanted to watch porn (it's been known to happen to all of us and this
was a straight boy in his own bedroom).

The next two times he called for me he laid on the bed and I got to take
some time.  At no point did he rush me or try to force himself down my sore
throat during any of these occasions, for which I was thankful as my throat
was so sore from the savaging he had given it the day before in the
washroom of a public restroom for the benefit of two truckers we didn't
know and couldn't even see (this last point being an issue of mine as I
only like to have sex around attractive people, even if they are just
watching, Peter obviously couldn't have cared less).

He didn't propose lunch and I was getting my favourite protein, sperm, so I
was being well nourished.

I decided to see what was in the kitchen and discovered his mom had made
him individual meals for the entire week, that he simply had to microwave
or heat in the oven.

Going upstairs I knocked on Peter's door frame (the door was open but he
was doing homework at his desk and I didn't want to intrude).

"What's up," he asked without looking back at me.

"Your mom made you meals for the entire week," I said, confused.

"Yea, but you cook better," he said.

Flattered tough I was, I said "but won't your mother wonder where you have
been eating?"

"I am not an idiot dude," he said dismissively.  "And I would never insult
my mom's cooking.  I was just going to throw out the left over meals or we
can take them to a soup kitchen."

I was not sure if a soup kitchen would take prepared food, but I was proud
of this boy for having that thought (again, thinking of him as a boy
reminded me of how fucked-up what we were doing was).

I suggested "do you want to eat two of them for supper?"

"Sure, why not," Peter said.  "I'll have her lasagne that is the best thing
she makes.  But can we wait an hour.  I am almost done this essay and I
would be nice to get out of this room."

"I can proof read it for you," I offered, genuinely thinking I could help.

"It's our cover story dude," he said, without looking up from his computer.
"I don't need help with my homework."

"Shout down when you are done and I will heat up the food," I said as I
turned and went back downstairs.

Going back to kitchen I went through the carefully labelled meals,
conscious of the fact this boy's mother had made him these meals we were
going to eat and I was in their home having sucked him off in his bedroom
now four times already today.  This woman had given birth to him and
clearly cared for him to make these meal and had phoned to check in (when
he was naked in my bed) and I was trying to select what meal I would eat to
cover for the fact their son had not been home much, he had been with me
(and that he liked my cooking more than her's).  This was seriously fucked
up.

The food was mostly comfort food.  I am guess I was right in planning
Mac-and-Cheese for our first food, as his mother must know what he likes.
Then again, he had seemed to like the scallop and wild mushroom Risotto so
maybe she didn't know his palate.

When it came to food I had a very developed palate though lately I only had
taste for one thing, this woman's son's cock.  This was definitely fucked
up shit!

I grabbed the chili, after checking his mom's spice cabinet and fridge to
make sure there was a way to increase the heat, not because I believed she
couldn't cook as well as me (ok maybe part of me hoped that was true) but
because I like spicy food.

I then went next door to my place to get some beers.  We obviously couldn't
drink his father's beer and while we could replace them, I was under the
impression that Peter liked Blue Dry and there were none in the fridge.

I had gone from not wanting to serve this boy alcohol to now making sure he
had is preferred type of beer with his dinner.  Also, I do like beer with
spicy chilly (I would have also liked some sour cream but there was none in
his house or mine).

When I got back Peter was in the living room on the couch in his lime green
Diesel trunks watching TV.

"I shouted down like you asked but you weren't here," he said.

"Sorry," I apologized very seriously as that meant his dinner was not
ready.  "I went to get you a beer."

When I went to hand him a beer he said "nah, it's a school night."

"Are you hungry right now, as in I should use the microwave, or can I use
the stove, which would mean 15 to 20 minutes," I asked.

"Stove is fine, I am chill," he responded so I left him to watch TV.

I put his lasagne, though I first shoved some red chili peppers into the
cheese topping, and I threw my chili into a pot and added both chili and
cayenne peppers.  It was a risk, as I didn't know what his mother had done
in making these dishes, but I thought if Peter was bored with them they
probably was modest in the seasoning.  A little heat might help (I was
careful with Peter's dish not to make it too hot).

Bringing our dinner out to the living room, we watched TV (well he did and
I kept watching him as in his underwear as I couldn't not keep checking him
out).

When Peter said "wow, this is the best lasagne mom has ever made" I was
tempted to explain what I had done but trying to steal the moment from his
mom was just insane.  It was his mom!  He should think she was perfect.

After supper I cleaned up and then sat next to him on the couch.

At some point while watching a show I had no interest in, Peter lifted his
hips and removed his sexy trunks, freeing his gorgeous cock, which was
visibly expanding.  I didn't see anything on the show that would cause him
to get hard, though it was a teen show and all the actresses were
attractive.  I figured that he was just getting horny as a 16 year old does
periodically through the day.

So, for the fifth time of the day I lowered my mouth onto him and began to
work his cock as he finished hardening.

As earlier in the day, he just let me work on his cock, for which I was
thankful, as my throat was only now just stopping feeling like a layer of
inside skin and been ripped off in the bathroom of the truck stop the day
before.

Tentatively I tried, after a while, to take some of his cock into my
throat.  It hurt, but I could take a little and I knew he liked that.  From
that point on I was working on his cock with about a third past it past my
gag reflex and in my throat when his cel phone rang.

I immediately stopped and sat up.

Would another evening (and maybe me having sex with this boy ever again) be
ruined by his mother checking in?

After He answered with "hello" and then after the person on the other end
of the call said something he said "hi dad" I was sure it had.  There was
no way we would recover from two nights of him being naked with someone his
parents' age (or older I suspected) being sucked and this time in his
parents' home.

I thought about running to the bathroom as I had when his mother had called
the previous evening.  Instead I sat upright and perfectly still hoping
that this call wouldn't have the effect of his mom's call the night before.

But no sooner had Peter said "hi dad" then he put his hand behind my head
and pushed me back down.  I resisted as this was definitely creepy.  His
dad had sort of made it clear I shouldn't be in his house and not only was
I my mouth was on his naked son's cock when he called.  Not to mention
Peter had freaked out the night before when his mom called.

There was no way I was going to suck his cock, I didn't even want to be in
the same room with him being naked while he talked to one of his parents.

But the more I tried to get off his cock Peter pressed harder and forced my
head down further on it.  I gaged.  Didn't his father hear me gaging? Panic
made me gag more.

He kept his hand on the back of my head and pushed my mouth as far down as
it would go (tears were streaming down my face as I fought the need to gag
and could barely breath) as he chatted on the phone with his father.

Even if I hadn't been sore already (sort of recovering from the truck stop
brutal throat fucking), I was so distraught in this situation I couldn't
think. I was in this man's home, and he had made it clear I shouldn't go
inside except in an emergency, yet here I was in his living room with his
youngest boy's cock (a boy he had asked me as an adult to keep an eye on)
in my throat.

I vaguely thought I heard Peter say he was at home and then later reassure
his father he had done all his homework, and the only reason I sort of
heard these things is he FORCED my head down even FURTHER onto his cock at
those parts of the conversation, causing my raw sore throat intense pain.

When he hung up the phone he said "dad can be such an asshole".

He kept his hand on the back of my head so I wouldn't rise off his cock
(which I desperately wanted to do given how much my throat hurt).

After a while he started to release the pressure, but only to get my head
moving up and down on his cock.

Eventually he must have sensed I had overcome the discomfort of how he had
forced his cock into my throat during that phone call from his dad and
having been impaled on his cock, because he took his hand off the back of
my head and just stretched his arms across the back of his parent's couch.

In spite of how sore my throat was (and my unease at where I was blowing
this boy who had just been on the phone with his dad) I continued to deep
throat him until he came.

After he was finished he said "don't ever stop sucking me without my
permission."

"But yesterday when your mom called..." I started but trailed off since I
didn't want to revisit the emotion we had both felt.

I had already gone too far as he said "it's my mom dude, how big a pervert
are you?"

He seemed to be OK with me sucking him when he is on the phone with his dad
but grossed out at the thought of my sucking him when he was talking to his
mom.  Both calls and situations freaked me out, then again I was the one
sucked a 16 year olds cock.

Changing the subject I asked if I can sleep over but he says an emphatic
"no".

While being forced down hard on his cock had been an unpleasant end to an
otherwise nice day, as I went to leave I got him say he hadn't minded
sleeping in the same bed last night but it would be too difficult to bring
clothes over to my place, plus he had cum already five times, including
just now (where he had brutalized my throat) and didn't see the point as I
wouldn't be sucking him again tonight (what we had just done was anything
but me sucking, it was closer to him assaulting me, but that was due I
guess to his father's call).

Peter reminded me he has school in the morning and his bed is too small for
two people.

I did know his bed was too small, having had sex with him on it twice that
day.  And having sex on his bed was real my goal when his father had hinted
strongly I should never go into their house except for an emergency (seems
I had issues with his daddy too).

I considered proposing I sleep on the other bed in his room, which had some
appeal as it was his brothers' bed, where David has slept two nights
earlier (the sheets probably hadn't even been washed as his parents left
the next day) and where Paul had jacked off that tiny amount of cum into
the FOTL briefs Peter had brought me.  It would also be cool to see what it
was like being his brother and sharing a room with him, but I too had work
in the morning (and I really only want to share a bed with him).

I went home and watched him through my bedroom window like usual until the
lights went off.

I set my alarm for earlier than usual.  Wake up and throw on sweats and a
t-shirt.  Let myself in and turn off the alarm (911, I smile to myself,
this is an emergency blow job).

I am used to Peter's morning pattern having watched him every morning so I
am in his room before his usual wake-up time and have his cock in my mouth
and him awake and moaning before his alarm goes.

Peter agrees that is an amazing way to wake-up.  Much better than the alarm
which he is mad at for going off just as he was about to cum (though he was
able to pick up the momentum and cum a few minutes later).

END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

***