Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2009 00:36:43 -0500
From: Wana Max <wandamaxa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Coronation Meat chapter 7

See the first chapter for disclaimers.

I wanted to thank those of you who have continued to send feedback, even
with the gaps between chapters. The show has so many different possible hot
men to rub against each other, but your suggestions and nice comments help
to figure out what to do.

This chapter jumps ahead to the more recent stories (the part with Peter
and David will come back in a later chapter). If you have any ideas for
what you may want to see with Liam, even though he's not in the current
episodes, let me know.

This chapter also has some water sports, so be warned.

==

Kevin was relieved to see that his daughter had been saved from her crazed
kidnapper John Stape, but she could be so bloody irritating. She'd spent
the entire breakfast modeling outfits for her family; the shorter the
skirt, the higher the price. Just as Kevin was about to speak up, he got a
text on his mobile.

"Still can't believe you lurched into the 21st century, Dad!" Rosie
shrieked.

"I was able to make him see sense," Kevin's wife Sally smirked as she and
daughter Sophie rifled through Rosie's designer handbags.

"Believe it or not, ladies, not everything in the family's down to you,"
Kevin huffed, a slight edge to his otherwise jovial comment. "I bought this
for business."

The phone generally was for business, but when he wasn't getting texts
about the garage he got very special texts and photos from his newfound
"fuck buddy" Craig Harris. Kevin still couldn't get used to the idea of
being pumped full of fresh young cum by his daughter's ex-boyfriend, but
since Rosie never mentioned Craig any more, Kevin wasn't going to be the
martyr. As long as Craig was still interested in the texture of his
foreskin and using his furry chest as a pillow, Kevin wasn't going to turn
him down. Craig made Kevin feel wanted, needed, and damn horny.

This particular photo was of Craig on his knees, getting a facial you'd
never find in any beauty salon. He smirked into the camera phone as what
seemed to be multiple loads ran down his beautiful face. Considering the
flawlessness of the nineteen year old's skin, Kevin wondered if he should
try the regimen. There were several men of different races and dick sizes
towering over young Mister Harris, but the one holding the camera, the
lower half of his face reflected in a mirror, seemed familiar to Kevin.

As Kevin adjusted his package, he received another text from Craig, asking
him to drop by London for the weekend.  "Hey, Sal, I'm gonna have to go to
London over the weekend, gotta good price on a new repair van."

Sally's initial skepticism worried Kevin, but she soon saw the bright side.

"I've been meaning for ages to have Gail over so she can try out my new
recipes, and this house needs a good clean. I'm thinking of
redecorating..."

'Again', Kevin thought to himself.

"Sure, that's fine, Kevin."

Phew, crisis over.

"Dad, can Gary stay over?"  Rosie suddenly asked, piercing his thought
balloon.

Kevin wasn't very fond of young Gary Windass. The lad was mouthy, greasy,
and always acted like he knew better than anyone else. The most offensive
incident happened after Rosie had invited Gary over for a family meal.
Gary went to the toilet, and when Kevin asked if he was about finished,
Gary opened the door with his jeans and boxers only half-covering his
crotch. A flash of fiery ginger pubes and the top half of a full-blooded,
near-bursting cock greeted a startled Kevin. His mouth had fallen to
somewhere around his chest, and Gary just...smirked at him. Leered at his
crotch. And then leaned over and squeezed the bulge in Kevin's dress
slacks.

Kevin hadn't said or done anything, but quite a few nights since then had
been spent wanking to the thought of shagging the tight arse of another of
Rosie's boyfriends.

"Erm...ask your mum," Kevin said, going to pack as Sally shot a sarcastic
thanks at his retreating back.

On his way to his bedroom, Kevin flashed a toothy grin to himself as
another text came through.

"Surprise waiting 4 u. Think u ll like it."

Kevin rearranged his package as he wondered just what the surprise would
be.

00

As Gary sat in the Rovers with the last of his pint on his lips, he was
already busy eyeing up his next conquest. Any hole in a storm was fine for
Gary, but he especially enjoyed taunting those who thought they were better
than he was.

Few had more of a superiority complex towards the Windass family than
bitter builder Joe McIntire. After a deal for a new kitchen went bad, Gary
and his uncle Len had destroyed Joe's business, reputation, and Gary loved
putting the moves on Joe's 19 year old daughter Tina. He mostly just loved
seeing that scowl and those furrowed brow as the old man was foiled yet
again.

Joe wasn't really that old, of course. He was more vital than his harried
visage let on. Gary had some very special memories of all the times he
could goad Joe into slamming him against the nearest brick wall. Joe's hot
breath on his neck, Joe's sizable bulge pressed against Gary's tight black
jeans crotch, and if Gary didn't know any better, several times he'd been
greeted by a little Joe that was more than happy to see him.

Gary was in the middle of flirting with the new barmaid, Poppy, when Joe
gloomed into the Rovers. Gary didn't waste any time.

"Hey, Joe, gotta question for ya."

Joe didn't respond, but he still had the fire in his soft brown eyes.

"Y'see, I was tryin' to figure out if Tina likes it better when I pound her
pussy or her arse. Thought ya might be able to answer...father knows best
and all."

Gary let out a lewd chuckle, his green eyes ablaze as various strong men
had to hold Joe back.

"I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Joe roared, his entire body straining against the strong
arms of Jason Grimshaw and Bill Webster.

Gary flicked his tongue against his lips, his taunting gaze zeroed in on
the thickness straining against Joe's blue denim.

"Do that again and you're barred!" Poppy warned both men.

Gary waved her off as he eased off the barstool, buzzing from his heavy
alcohol intake. He swayed to the men's toilet, stopping to wink at Joe
before he went inside.

Gary pulled out his long cock, sliding the skin back, and sighed from
contentment as he emptied his bladder. A few times he missed the urinal and
smiled at the warm sensation trickling down his jeans.

He remembered that any bloke could walk in at any minute, and the
excitement of being caught began to make him stiffen up. Smirking to
himself, he started to openly masturbate, furiously sliding his foreskin up
and down his swollen purple head.

As the first wave began to hit him, he licked his fingers, tasting the
pungency of his piss, and slipped them into the back of his jeans.

"Do you have NO shame??" a voice roared from the suddenly open bathroom
door.

Gary whirled around to be greeted by a red-faced Joe.

Gary answered the indignant question by grunting out a brutal orgasm,
walking toward Joe even as his knees buckled with each volley. Cum flew
everywhere, white spray painting the dingy floor of the Rovers toilet,
finally ending in a large dollop on Joe's work boots.

Gary smirked at his handiwork, but Joe wasn't as amused.

"Clean that up," Joe barked.

"Or what?" Gary taunted, rubbing his stubbly chin.

Joe couldn't take any more. He grabbed Gary by the back of the neck,
lowering him to all fours.

"I said CLEAN...IT...UP..." Joe hissed.

Joe had assumed Gary would beg off, cry or something, but instead Gary
looked up at him with an unholy grin on his face.

"Say please."

Joe was about to tell him to bugger off, but something was pulling him
in. Those eyes...

"P-Please..."

As soon as he said the magic words, Gary began swiping his long tongue over
the heavy boots, large swipes which smeared his mouth organ and the rest of
his face in his own cream.

When he finished, he locked vision with Joe, Joe unable to look away. Gary
ran his tongue over his mouth and chin, but clearly wasn't satisfied.

"What are you doing?" Joe rasped as Gary reached for his fly.

"You came in here for a piss, right?"

Joe nodded.

Gary opened his mouth wide, extending his tongue to show Joe the remaining,
small spot of cum.

"Are you insane??"

Gary said nothing. Of course he was. As he stayed quiet, his hands were
busy, the callused digits fishing Joe's wide girth out of his boxers. One
of the fattest cocks Gary had ever had his eyes on, much less anything
else.

Gary ran his tongue around the mushroom head, slipping the tip into Joe's
pissslit.

"C"mon...just let go..." Gary said, calmly, encouragingly.

"I-I can't...I can't do this..."

Joe felt so disgusted at the idea of pissing on another man for pleasure,
that another man would debase himself that way, and yet, that discomfort
was fueling his desire.

Gary looked up at him with a face of serenity and wisdom, as if Joe was the
student, Gary the teacher.

"Just look into my eyes, and let go..."

Joe stared down at Gary's expectant, rough yet angelic face.

"I...oh..."

With a moan from Joe's lips, the stream began to flow, a steady, clear
stream trickling into Gary's open mouth, hitting the back of his
throat. Gary swallowed the first tastes, spitting the rest back at Joe and
staining his flannel shirt and the front of his jeans.

Joe let out a silent curse, lowering his cock to begin hitting Gary's long
neck and going down to his tight white tee-shirt and leather jacket. Gary
lifted his shirt, letting the liquid coat his faint abs and the light
coating of cinnamon fuzz on his chest.

"Don't you want to taste yourself?" Gary teased.

The thought of it horrified Joe, yet with a mind of its own, his hand and
his cock worked together to, with one last strong burst, sprayed a large
amount of piss into his own open mouth.

Joe swallowed the slightly bitter liquid, cursing himself for the state of
his clothes.

Gary stood up, throwing his tee shirt in the trash and ripping Joe's
flannel shirt open with a flourish. He threw both items of clothing into
the trash, leaving Joe in his tee shirt and Gary with his leather jacket
covering his tender flesh.

Joe sneered at Gary.

"You make me sick."

Gary just laughed and grabbed the base of a gasping Joe's cock. His hand
was barely able to get around the base.

"If the taste of yer own piss don't get that cock soft, then I doubt I'm
gonna do any damage."

He leaned over as he slowly wanked a furious, yet aroused Joe. His teeth
sank into Joe's right earlobe, his tongue slipping inside the canal.

"You don't fool me any more, Joe."

His strokes to Joe's massive width continued as his merciless whisper
continued.

"I know who you are and what you are. A piss pig. A slag. Just like me."

He placed Joe's beefy fingers onto his revived erection. Joe began
stroking, almost without thought, the first cock he'd ever touched which
wasn't his own.

"No matter how many times ya try to act like you're better than me, we both
know the truth now. And if you ever try to tell anyone 'bout this, just
remember what you'll be missing out on."

He flicked his thumbnail around Joe's sensitive glans, his other hand
reaching to grope Joe's meaty backside. Without warning, he shoved two
fingers inside the tight, hot chute.

Joe screamed into Gary's shoulder, violent volleys of cum staining his tee
shirt and Gary's bare chest. They embraced in a rough kiss, tongues
battling then slowly, gently calming, as Gary joined Joe in orgasm, in
sheer relief. Finally, all their loathing had reached a temporary truce.

Gary quickly broke away, not letting Joe see the vulnerability in his
eyes. He licked his stomach and slight pecs clean, leaving in his leather
jacket.

"You better get that out," he advised, pointing to Joe's ruined tee
shirt. He gave Joe's muscular backside one more squeeze before he left.

Joe blew a hot breath against his face. He didn't know what he'd done, what
he thought he was doing. He was losing all control...and he liked it.

99

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Joe heard a faint knock against
the door, followed by the sound of someone running away. He couldn't see
who, but he was horrified to see the message before his eyes.

He picked up a sleeve which had been torn from his flannel shirt. Wrapped
up in the sleeve was a note.

"I saw what you did today."