Date: Sat, 18 Apr 2015 22:15:21 +0000
From: Bruce Demosthenes <sourceskid@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dominated by the boy next door 8

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***

The next few months my evolving routine was new and improved.  I still had
Peter's briefs under my pillow but they were mostly for luck (and a sign of
my obsession) not sex as I was getting that semi-regularly from Peter's
late night visits.  I didn't even jack off when I watch Peter naked in his
room before or after his shower in the morning or in underwear at night
(though I did watch him almost every morning and night).  I simply waited
for Peter to come over during the night.

Peter would not come by every day but he would at least once a week,
sometimes twice.  When and what time he showed-up was always a surprise.
Sometimes it would be before I had fallen asleep though the lights of his
home were dark (so his parents would have gone to bed if not sleep).
Sometimes it would be before the sun came up and he had to get ready for
school.  Sometimes it would be in the middle of the night.  But it was
always in the dark.

He had a key to my house next door and a willing mouth and he used it.

What he did to my mouth also varied.  Sometimes he would just stand there
(briefs under his balls or cock out of the fly of his boxers) and I would
suck him off.  Sometimes he would fuck my mouth leisurely (though never for
as long, thankfully, as my first wonderful 'home invasion' after I gave him
a key).  Sometimes he would be urgent and fuck my mouth intensely, though
never as rough as in the beginning of our 'relationship' (if you could call
what we had a relationship), just more needy and hurried than his leisurely
face fucks or my blowjobs (whenever he fucked my mouth with some urgency I
imagined his cock fucking my ass or even his brother Peter's cock fucking
my ass, which I had no idea how big that was but he had jokingly planted
that idea in my head, and my hole would be twitching wildly by the time he
came in my mouth - resulting in my fingering my hole while I jacked off
after he left).

Sometimes his boy-cum would all end up in my stomach and sometimes he would
treat me to a complete load in his mouth.  He never asked me to not swallow
again but I couldn't swallow when he came in my mouth and would hold it
there as long as I could, usually if I wasn't in need of breakfast, until I
made it to the office.

After the first 'home invasion' I went back to wearing sweats to bed in
case Peter dropped by during the night.  But I never sleep well with
clothes on, and his visits were less frequent than I hoped so I eventually
just slept naked.  Peter never turned on the light (I figured that was so
if his parents checked on him they wouldn't look out the window and find
him being blown by the adult neighbour in the house across the hedge) and I
hoped the nights he woke me and I had shed the covers he didn't see enough
of my middle age man's body that it grossed him out - and I guessed it
didn't because he didn't leave, he still used my mouth.

That is what I was now.  A 'mouth'.

We never spoke.  If I was awake I just got in a comfortable position to
suck him and if I was asleep he shook me awake (if he wanted me to blow
him) or slapped my face with his cock (if he intended to fuck my mouth).
It became an unspoken language between 'master' and 'mouth'.

Peter always came over in his underwear.  I concluded this was because it
added to the danger of doing something wrong in the darkness of night.  I
pictured Peter getting in bed and waiting until his parents fell asleep or
waking in the middle of the night horny and slipping out in only his
underwear.  It probably added to the excitement of a teenage drama.  Not
something I was happy with since it increased exponentially our chances of
being caught but this was his game not mine.  I was only the 'mouth'.

Peter never brought up wearing a pair of briefs to school and me giving him
$10 again and now that I was getting his cock semi-regularly neither did I.
I had thought for a couple days when I he picked up the packages of briefs
that it was about to become about money but it clearly was not now.  In
fact I was not sure it wasn't about domination anymore.  It may be simply
about a teenage boy needing a hole to place his cock.  That didn't make me
any less the 'mouth' and him the 'master'.

While I was off the hook for buying more designer briefs and a ten
dollar-a-day fee, Peter was making me buy liquor for him and his friends
now every weekend.  Fortunately they only asked for beer (I rationalized to
myself), though I knew that if someone got in a car accident drunk or there
was a death or an injury at a party where this beer was consumed I would be
charged.  And if charged for contributing to the delinquency of a minor
then the real issue of me having sex with a minor would come out.  But I
couldn't say no to anything Peter asked of me now.

While this put me in a steady state of mild apprehension (fear would be too
strong) about what I was doing, I was also the most happy I had ever been.
I was having sex with a boy (or rather he was having sex with my mouth) who
was young and gorgeous, someone I would have never in a million years
thought would let me suck his cock or use my mouth and touch his body (even
when I was 16 I only fantasized about boys as hot as Peter, never had one),
and I was also finding I loved not being in control.  In the gay world I
had been a top and as an outgoing personality it always fell to me to hit
on or seduce every boy or man I had slept with and to initiate the sex when
we were together.  Here Peter was in control.  I no longer had any
responsibility or decision making.  I had to admit I liked it when he told
me what to do.  I liked being owned.

Into this established routine a strange wrinkle developed.  Suddenly one
day the blinds in Peter's room, which are never closed, were drawn.

This perplexed me and by the second day I was a wreck.  I thought the
worst.  That Peter had decided to end thing or, worse, that his parents had
discovered what had been going on and in a matter of days or hours the
police would be coming to arrest me.

On the thirds day of his blinds being down my doorbell rang and I opened it
with total fear.  I fully expected it to by the police.  To my surprise it
was Peter accompanied by his oldest brother Paul.  His brother being home
and sharing Peter's bedroom would explain the closed blinds.

While I now had an explanation for the closed blinds, at the sight of Paul
my usual apprehension about what I was doing with Peter continued as panic
and I actually considered slamming the door and running out the back, which
would have gotten me nowhere as my back fence around my swimming pool is
un-scalable so as to keep children out (and prevent them from drowning) and
to give me privacy (only Peter's room and my neighbour on the other side
who is an 80-yo woman with Alzheimer's can see into my backyard).

"Hey Mr. H," said Peter, pretending that is somehow the way he addressed
me.  "I was telling my brother Paul here, who I think you met when we moved
in, that you were having problems with your pool."

"I told Peter," said Paul (ruffling his brother's hair, which explained
where Peter got that move) "I am an electrical engineer and know nothing
about pool repair.  But as he told me you had been helping him with his
writing I figured I owed you at least a try."

I don't know what shocked me more.  That Peter had come up with such an
elaborate story to bring his homophobic brother into the home of a man who
was sucking his underage cock or that Peter knew I worked as a writer (we
had exchanged no personal information though I had been on the receiving
end of lots of his personal secretions).

Being a writer I quickly picked-up on the story Peter had fabricated and
began to contribute to the lie: "It's not electrical or even plumbing.  My
pool service company went out of business and I have no idea how to
determine if it is safe to use the pool in terms of, I guess, acidity or
chlorine levels or whatever" I said feigning ignorance.

"That's simple," said Paul.  "I can do check that if you have a testing
kit."

I opened the door to let them in and shot a glare at Peter as he walked in
behind his brother, causing Peter to break into a grin the Cheshire cat
would be jealous of.

"If Paul can get it working, would you mind if we used your pool," said
Peter, still grinning ear-to-ear behind Paul's back.

"Of course," I responded as cheerfully as I could muster, while still
shooting daggers at Peter.

"We don't want to be a bother," said Paul, totally unaware of Peter and I
exchanging looks behind his back, as he walked toward the pool shed.

"No bother," I added, still totally in the dark about what was happening.

Paul quickly and quietly set to work, getting the kit out of the shed and
testing the water.  Peter meanwhile would break into a mischievous grin
every time his brother was not looking our way and I would give him dirty
looks back.

His brother hated gays and I was not only gay (something Peter had learned
through the gossip in the neighbourhood which meant Paul probably had also
heard) but I was sucking his brother's cock now regularly.  And there was
nothing wrong with the pool which Paul would undoubted discover as he
tested the water.

Fortunately the pool company, which came by monthly to adjust levels, had
not come yet this month, so Paul found a small imbalance and added a few
chemicals.

"Not a big problem," he said.  "It was safe for swimming already.  Though I
would suggest no one go in it for an hour until it is perfect."

"So can we come over in an hour," Peter asked seriously, until his brother
looked away at which point he grinned again at me from ear-to-ear.

"I guess," I said.

"Are you sure this isn't an inconvenience," asked Paul.

Hoping to get out of having Peter and Paul in my pool in swimsuits given my
cock-sucking relationship with one and the anti-gay views of the other I
said "well, I am going out now, so maybe tomorrow would be better and then
the chemicals will have settled."

Without missing a beat Peter said "what about the extra key you gave me to
clean the leaves out of the pool when you went to visit your ex-wife".

Wow this kid was good.  He had just given me a fake ex-wife that may just
squelch the rumours of me being gay (or at least make his brother less
dangerous around me today).

"Yea, I could give you that key again," I said.  This also gave me an
excuse go out and them letting themselves in so I wouldn't have to be here
because if I was and they are in swimsuits in my pool I will want to check
them out, and ex-wife cover story or not, my lust when Peter is involved is
unchecked.  I would get a boner in front of homophobic Paul no matter how
hard I tried not to.

"We are off to the store for milk, will you be still here in 15 minutes, if
so I can drop by and pick up the key," Peter added without a pause so
neither Paul or I could continue the conversation and take it off the track
he had so clearly planned.  This also solved the problem of my having to
'give' the key that Peter already had in his possession in front of Paul.

"Um OK," I said and walked Peter and Paul out, thanking Paul again and
again for making my pool safe (something he didn't really do but seemed
happy to accept the praise and I needed to curry any favour with Peter's
older homophobic brother I could).

Twenty-minutes later the doorbell rang and I let Peter in, who was
bizarrely wearing a jacket given how warm it was (so warm outside that he
presumably needed to use my pool).

Peter reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of Fruit of the
Loom briefs, identical to the pair that was under my pillow.

"Since Paul came home for reading week I've been trying to figure out how
to steal you a pair of his briefs.  Mom announced today she was doing
laundry.  She never announces, she usually just collects up all the dirty
clothes, but I guess because Paul is back from college she thought he might
want warning.  But before he got up to our room and she came to collect his
clothes, I went through them and found this pair which has a cum stain on
it and took it for you."

My eyes must have been like saucers.  What a fucking amazing gift!!!!

"I, er, I, um, I don't know, geeze, what to say," I started noticeably
stuttering I was so awestruck.

"Shut the fuck up.  I don't have time.  You are supposed to be going
somewhere and I am only here to get the key."

I shut my mouth and listened to my master who was being so overly generous
to me with this gift of his brother's cum-stained briefs and clearly had a
reason for his elaborate ruse about the pool.

"I figured because you were disappointed - though we both know totally
boned - that you hadn't seen me wearing the last pair of briefs I gave you,
which were actually Paul's, you would want to see him in his briefs.  I
can't do that because Paul has insisted I keep the blinds closed.  But Paul
wears speedos when he swims, so if you get back before we finish swimming
you can see him in speedos and when you jack off smelling these briefs you
can picture his cock and balls in them."

My jaw dropped.  Why was Peter doing this?

"One other thing, when we go to leave tell me to keep the key because you
want me to clean the leaves from the pool and water the plants when you are
away.  I have been hiding the fucking key but my mother is bound to find
it.  They have serial numbers you idiot."

Peter turned and was out the door before all of what had just happened had
registered with me.

This boy was half-a-dozen steps ahead of me, which I guess makes sense as
he had made me his bitch.  But he was also way ahead of his brother, his
mother and certainly our community's rent-a-cops.  Still not sure about the
real cops (running to and from my house in his underwear was eventually get
us caught) but I was now more willing to trust his judgement (not that not
giving into him had ever been an option).

After I stashed Paul's cum stained briefs in the drawer next to my bed (not
a big load like Peter produced on his brother's previous pair, which I
thought I would maybe ask Peter about, but as they were the same brand and
size as the ones under the pillow I didn't want to get the two pairs
confused) I got in my car and drove around.  The more I tried to kill time
the longer time stretched.

After the longest 45 minutes in my life, I headed home.

I tried to act casual as I walked to the pool and dropped a bag of chips,
bottles of coke and bottled water on a table next to the pool and said,
trying to sound casual even though my stomach was filled with butterflies,
"brought some snacks, how's the water?"

Sure enough Paul was in a pair of speedos, pale blue.  I couldn't make out
any detail of his cock and balls as he swam.  While he was in the water the
only thing I could see for sure was he had a gorgeous body, confirming what
I had concluded the first day, he had very broad shoulders, long legs and
slim hips - a classic swimmer's build.

Peter not surprisingly was in baggy surfer shorts that did nothing to
accentuate his equally hot, though smaller, body.  Unlike Paul I knew
exactly what Peter looked like naked and he was every bit as beautiful as
his older brother.  And while his loose fitting swimwear did nothing to
show off his firm round ass and big package I knew intimately his cock
length and width, both soft and hard.

Peter jumped out of the pool and grabbed a coke and opened the chips.  Paul
swam some more laps and then got out too.

I couldn't not watch Peter.  Baggy shorts of not he was gorgeous and even
his wet shorts clung to him so I could make out that big cock that was now
regularly shoved down my throat.

But watching Paul get out of the water made my heart flutter.  There is
something about speedos that is so damn sexy.  The tight wet blue skimpy
swimsuit clung to his body and you could see every inch of him and there
were inches of him.  Where Peter had to be about six inches soft, Paul
looked to be more like seven or eight and definitely thicker.  I couldn't
imagine how big he was hard.

Paul's balls and cock moved around in his speedos as he rose out of the
water in the shallow end and then mounted the steps, water dripping off his
tall lean frame.

I had to fight every instinct to stare.  Much as I wanted to check out this
gorgeous 5'11" blond 22 year old, I needed him not to realize (or confirm)
I was gay because if he did then he would at best figure out something was
going on between me and his youngest brother and have me arrested and at
worst would beat the living crap out of me, and with a body like his he
probably could do that easily, the broad muscular shoulders, tapered upper
body and legs that seemed to go on forever.

Damn, I was having a hard time looking away as he walked towards us.  I
would just take my eyes off him for a second to take a drink of water and
eat some chips and I would have to look back at him.

The drops of water on his body made him glisten in the sunlight.  His blond
naturally curly hair, much more curly than his youngest brother, almost
seemed to glow like a hallow around his head.  And those speedos... they
revealed every detail of his ample cock and balls.

I had learned to take Peter's ample cock down my throat but Paul was
definitely bigger, which meant Peter would get bigger.  What had I gotten
myself into?

Paul's cock soft was mesmerizing.  It laid in the nylon speedos along his
right thigh like a log in a hammock.  As he walked towards us it swayed and
his balls bounced up and down beneath it as pressed forward by his legs as
he walked.

I don't know if Paul caught me glancing or if he didn't totally believe the
story about my ex-wife or if he had just tired of my pool but his body
language made it clear he wanted to leave.  He didn't even help himself to
a coke or bottled water.  He just said "can I use a shower."

"Inside the sliding doors and turn right, end of the hall is the guest
bedroom, bathroom in there," I said.

Watching Paul walking away I was equally fixated on this speedo clad Adonis
back.  His ass was rounder than Peter's, something the blue speedos made
even more pronounced, and I could make out the crack of his ass between
those firm globes that moved up and down at the top of his incredibly long
legs as he walked.

Once Paul was out of earshot, Peter, with a huge impish grin on his face
said "you can stop staring anytime soon."

Given what we had done sexually I had no ability to keep secrets from Peter
so as he grilled me I confessed every thought I had about his brother
including the fact that I had compared the two boys in my mind and thought
Paul's ass was rounder, his balls were smaller and his cock longer and
thicker than my young master's but I had no idea what it was like hard
since some guys are showers not growers.

"You are never going to see it hard, so just drop that notion," Peter
retorted, though he seemed amused by my train of thought.  "I have never
seen my brother's cock hard and I share a room with him.  Soft is how it
was when he was in the briefs I gave you.  Now you can picture it when you
jack off the second we leave as we both know you will.  Aren't you happy?
Aren't I the best master ever?"

Peter seemed to like the title I had bestowed on him, even if he had
initially found it too gay.

"YES I AM & YOU ARE" I said way too loud.

"Quiet the fuck down, and get your boner under control," he said pointing
to the obvious erection showing in my chinos.  "Meet me in the entrance in
a few minutes so you can tell me to keep the key."

Peter added with what seemed like disgust but was likely only his usual
contempt, "God I am not sure why I bother, you are such a pathetic fag,"
and, as I walked away, he said loudly enough so only I would hear "you know
this will cost you big time".

I tried to hide in my bedroom until my hard-on subsided.  The more I tried
to make it go down the harder it got.  I eventually went to the drawer
where I kept sex toys and took out a tight leather jock that was supposedly
designed to prevent one getting an erection.  While it was too late to
prevent mine, I hoped it would hide the one I had under my pants.

Checking myself in the mirror I realized that you could still tell I had a
boner and you could also make out the black leather leg straps under my ass
so if Paul glanced down he would know I was wearing a leather jock what
screamed gay in and of itself.  I couldn't change my tan chinos as that
would peak curiosity as to why I changed my pants.  So I instead put a pair
of dark briefs on over the jock and under my pants and, while my hard-on
was not entirely disguised, it was the best I could do so I went
downstairs.

Peter and Paul were hanging out at the door.  While both had showered to
get rid of the chlorine and dried themselves, they were both in their
swimsuits and I couldn't help but look them up and down.  Side-by-side were
these two curly blond boys, eight years apart but looking so similar, blond
curly hair, smooth bodies.  Peter's impressive cock you could just barely
make out under his wet surfer showers, as it hung straight down infront of
him.  Paul's you couldn't miss as it lay there along his thigh supported by
the very thin blue nylon of his speedos.

I knew I had to be staring but Paul didn't react, he simply said as I came
down the stairs "we didn't want to leave without thanking for the swim".  I
was sure this excuse came from Peter.

Peter made motions of taking the key off his ring and I protested a number
of times saying it was no intrusion on my privacy him having a key to my
house and I trusted him and he needn't worry about being responsible if I
am robbed (none of which were real concerns of his given that he had
demanded a key to my house months ago).  I also said I would undoubtedly
ask him to clean my pool and water my plants again and would pay him to do
it before he reluctantly relented.

I wished them adieu and mounted the stairs to my bedroom.  I wasn't sure I
had convinced Paul I wasn't a fag horned for him and his brother given the
number of times I had checked him and his brother out in their swimsuits,
especially with the raging hard-on pressed against my body barely hidden by
three layers of clothing including a skin tight jockstrap.  If he only knew
what I was about to do, I thought, as I stripped naked, freeing my cock
from the painful confines of the jock, and pulled Paul's briefs from the
drawer.

I began to sniff them as I jacked off picturing Paul in his speedos.  I had
only stolen a few glances, scared of being caught, more than I should have
given the circumstance, enough so I had burned every detail of his body
into my brain.

I pictured his soft cock lying horizontal along his right upper leg
stretching almost midway across his thigh, suggesting he was a couple
inches bigger than his brother both soft and hard.  The proportion of his
cock head to shaft was probably the same as his brother's with the head
bigger than the shaft.  And, as I had told Peter, his balls appeared
smaller than Peter's but they were larger than mine (though that couldn't
explain the small amount of cum on the briefs I was staring at and
sniffing).

I rubbed my face along the inside of the pouch.  Peter was right, seeing
Paul walking around in his speedos did let me imagine how his cock and
balls moved in these soft cotton Fruit of the Looms.  That thick shaft
pushing the material away from his leg, moving slightly up and down as he
walked.  There was even a tiny piss stain to the right of the pouch which
marked where the head of his cock rested.  Damn, when I compared it to my
own cock, I realized Paul was bigger than me soft than I was hard (but that
made sense as Peter soft was as big as I was hard).

While his package was amazing soft, I did try to imagine it hard,
especially when I began sniffing the cum.

His sweat and cum smelled similar and yet markedly different than Peter's.
There were no skid marks in the back and barely a piss stain in the front,
unlike the pair under my pillow Peter hard worn, which probably said
something about the cautious engineer who was uptight about people who were
different and insisted on the blinds to his room being closed versus his
younger care-free brother who walked around all the time in briefs or naked
and was willing to shove his cock into just about anything (well anything
but my ass, a thought that made my hole suddenly twitch).

Taking one final deep inhale of Paul's sweat and cum, I gave my cock one
final yank and began to unload my cum onto my stomach.

Even though I thought Paul was gorgeous and I had just seen him in speedos
which for my was an incredible turn-on (speedos rank up there with briefs
among my fetishes) and even though I had Paul's cum stained white Fruit of
the Looms next to my nose, I didn't shoot as big a load as I do when I jack
off thinking about Peter and my last thought was not of Paul as I shot, it
was about Peter and how generous he had been to arrange it so I could see
his brother in speedos and have a pair of Paul's cum stained briefs.  That
said a lot about who I now was, Peter's exclusive possession.  I put Paul's
underwear in the drawer and took the pair under my pillow and took a sniff
of Peter's cum.  That made my cock twitch even though I had just cum.

Putting the briefs over my head I jacked off a second load inhaling the
smell of Peter, the just beginning to develop 5'8" 16 year old who I
worshiped, even more now that he had been willing to let me jack off
thinking about his brother.  Peter, who had just been in my pool in his
baggy swimsuit, that big cock hanging down the leg, swaying like an
elephant's trunk as he walked around my pool.  A cock that had painfully
violated my throat now more times than I could count and I desperately
wished he would shove hard up my ass.

I shot a bigger load, even though it was my second, with three fingers
shoved up my ass imagining it to be Peter's cock, his cum stained briefs
over my head.

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT.

***