Date: Tue, 28 Feb 2017 23:17:24 +0100
From: Robert Rickman <BrSpPrn@gmx.com>
Subject: Gay celebrity Eastenders Sex 7

Eastenders is the property of the BBC. I claim no rights and am making
nothing off of this story. This is a work of fiction and has nothing to do
with the actors in the roles. Don't take anything in this as in any way
resembling real life. Read only if you're 18 or older.

Thank you for all your feedback and suggestions, which I'll do my best to
work into the chapters. Sorry for the delay between chapters.

This chapter was a request from a reader, and it takes place earlier in the
Carter family story - when Johnny came out. It won't match up to the other
chapters I've written. The next chapter will more heavily focus on Lee's
role with the Carters. These chapters heavily involve the Carters, so if
you don't want to read that this is your chance to know. There are also a
few surprise Eastenders studs from around the time the Carters first
arrived.

Nifty is a wonderful resource - 20 years of stories, all archived, and
stories you rarely find anywhere else. Please donate to help keep them
going.

[][][][][][][][][]

Mick had never been the brightest bloke, but he was glad he'd had the
foresight to get Nancy to take Linda and Shirl out for a long lunch. He'd
heard his wife and sister scrapping all the way out the doors of the boozer
they now called home, but he knew it was second nature to them.

He also knew it wasn't second nature to Johnny, his youngest, now crying on
his chest in a way he hadn't in many years. Johnny was 19 years old now,
clearly a man in age, build and confidence, but the baby face and the
softness he could never shake made him a target. Both for his mum and
sister - even if they loved the bones of him - and the world at large.

Mick didn't care that Johnny had just come out to him, had just admitted to
kissing sleazy, any-hole's-a-goal property developer Danny Pennant. With
the arse packed into Danny's snug suit trousers, Mick would probably take a
crack (no pun intended) if he wasn't such a devoted husband.

Mick only cared that his son was a prime candidate to be used up and spat
out by the scum of the world. Not because they were men - scum's just scum
- although Mick, being a fella, was even more concerned because he heard
and saw things fellas did that no women would ever know - but because he
had a big, soft heart, one that couldn't be hidden under the sarcy cracks
he'd built up from growing up in such a noisy family.

Johnny had stopped crying now, but his head was still on Mick's chest, his
hand on Mick's belly. He lifted up enough to stare into Mick's soft brown
eyes.

"Thanks, Dad. I love you."

Mick blushed, tears in his eyes, because as much as he tried to be the
sensitive sort with his family, he still wasn't used to such open
emotions. Linda frowned on them.

"Let's have a few cans," he suggested, mussing Johnny's slightly too-long
dark blonde hair, kissing his forehead.

He noticed a slight look on Johnny's face after the kiss...surprise, maybe,
but something else.

Johnny suddenly moved away from him, blushing.

"Back in a sec...mind your kecks," Mick warned, jokingly, noticing Johnny
didn't bother to fire back.

As Mick left to go to the kitchen, Mick was sure his son's guilty eyes were
on his bum. He almost asked, but didn't want to hear the answer.

Mick took a beer out, downing it in a few short gulps. A second soon
followed. He was partway through a third when he realized he might need to
slow down.

He couldn't stop thinking about his son's reaction to the kiss and the way
his son watched him.

It wasn't anything new, as his fat packet had been a sight for sore eyes -
occasionally sore arses - since he was Johnny's age at least. Deep down
Mick even knew it wasn't the first time Johnny had stared, remembering the
times his son had watched him leave or walk into a room, eyed up Mick's
legs in his pink dressing gown, or simpered a bit when Mick lifted his
shirt and showed off his hairy belly. He'd guessed before this, just
decided not to think about it much.

It was different now because now Mick knew he wasn't wrong, it wasn't just
a lifetime of being perved on leading his mind to some forbidden place. His
son, his angelic, cheeky son, fancied him.

It wasn't right. It couldn't be right.

Mick was upset, but more because he really wasn't even actually upset by
it. He couldn't manage to find it in him. Johnny was a man now - his son,
but also a man, a man who could have any bloke he wanted. And he wanted -
whether he proper realized it or not - Mick.

If he wasn't upset, then he was...

If he thought about what he was right now he'd really be giving his son a
show.

He downed his third beer and opened up a fourth, along with two for Johnny.

"Gotcha!" Mick shouted as he tossed the drink in Johnny's direction...not
noticing until too late that Johnny was rubbing his jean-clad crotch with
an open palm.

Johnny was too mortified to catch it, turning bright red at his mistake.

"Slippery digits," Mick teased, but he couldn't help noticing that Johnny's
eyes were on the bulge packed into his tight black jeans...just as his own
were on his son's half-hard mast.

Johnny blushed when he saw that Mick was watching. He rinsed the can off
and opened it with a flourish, laughing when the beer splashed onto his
blue-and-grey v-neck.

"Your muvva's gonna have me 'ead," Mick groused, striding over to clean
Johnny's chest with the dishcloth. "She got ya that for yer birthday."

Johnny didn't reply, too busy looking at Mick with awestruck eyes as his
father's surprisingly delicate fingers ran the cloth over his chest.

Mick couldn't help noticing how much more developed Johnny had become in
the last year; he was used to oldest son Lee, now in the army, being the
brawn of his kids.

"Letcha finish yerself off," Mick said, cringing as he realized how that
sounded, trying not to notice Johnny's amused and aroused expression. His
son's unwitting leer, again aimed right at his bulging crotch, made him
turn to face the table, pressing his denimed horsemeat against the cool
surface.

Wanting to change the subject, he stumbled onto the next topic.

"So - you ever tried it with a girl?"

Johnny took a minute to reply, taking a very long gulp of beer, hurt heavy
in his defensive tone.

"Why?"

Mick wanted to tell him it was alright that he hadn't, but he couldn't be
affectionate right now. He knew somewhere deep inside that it would go far
beyond fatherly support.

"Cos' -" Mick started, still facing away from Johnny - "it's the first
thing your mum's gonna let loose with once we tell 'er. You better have an
answer."

Johnny looked like he was going to be sick, a stark reminder to Mick of
just how innocent he still was under all the sarcy comments. He polished
off his first can, gasping at the pungency - or maybe it was just his
nerves.

"I-I don't wanna, so I don't."

Mick snorted, folding his hands over his belly.

"Guess that's the best ya got. Besta luck when you're up against me old
dear - she'll spit out the arguments faster than our Tina downs a pint."

Johnny slumped his shoulders, leaning into the counter. When he looked at
his father again, it was with needy grey eyes.

"I thought - I thought you could back me up. I thought you WOULD."

Mick's chest was tight at his son's pain, making him forget his fears and
stumble to close the gap between them, tenderly rubbing Johnny's slender
shoulders.

"Course I will. You're me boy - you're special just the way ya are. I know
- I know it ain't just a matter of switchin' on and off."

Johnny smirked, opening another can and downing half in one go. His bright
red face reminded Mick that his son wasn't much of a drinker...yet.

"So...did you ever try it with a lad?" Johnny grinned, clearly on the way
to merriment to be brave enough to ask his dad that.

Mick's eyes widened at the question, a question he could easily lie
about. Should, really.

If he'd been less buzzed, not helped by quickly downing his fourth and
final can, he probably would have.

"Yeah," Mick said, before he could stop himself.

Johnny spat out the last of his beer, not even caring that he'd ruined his
top all over again.

"Really?!?!"

Mick scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah."

Johnny paused, speaking more quietly now.

"Does Mum know?"

Mick avoided his son's eyes, not wanting to see if they were full of desire
or of shame.

"Nah...and she's not gonna."

Johnny threw his hands up in the air, standing up to pace the floor.

"I just - wow. Wow, Dad."

Johnny hurriedly walked downstairs. Mick nearly followed, panicked at what
his youngest might say, until Johnny hurriedly returned, holding two small
glasses.

"Ssshotts," Johnny needlessly told him, the slur in his tone making Mick
think he'd had one or two before going back up.

Mick slammed the shots down, one then the other, bitter taste on his tongue
as he roughly wiped his mouth with his flannel shirt sleeve.

"So ya...ya gonna tell me? Who it was? The fella? Who was it?"

Mick wished he could think telling Johnny had been a mistake, but he
couldn't bring himself to regret it. He was drunk enough now to where he
couldn't even bring himself to lie properly.

"Me cousin."

Johnny's jaw dropped.

"FUCK!"

Mick leapt forward, clasping a hand over his son's mouth.

"Watch it, shoutbox."

He left his hand there as Johnny stared at him, whimpering slightly at the
rough touch, at Mick's other hand firm at the back of his close-cropped
neck.

Reluctantly he moved it away, watching Johnny lick his lips and look at him
in a way most sons never would.

"Tell me, Dad."

Mick knew he shouldn't, but he was drunk and horny and...he needed this.

He made eyes for Johnny's bedroom, motioning his son inside.

It wasn't until they were actually standing in the small, barely unpacked
room, door abruptly shut, that he realized what he was suggesting to his
son...what he was suggesting to himself.

"First time I've ever been in 'ere," he muttered, smirking at the poster of
some reality show babe with her tits half-hanging out that Johnny had put
up on the wall to try to convince them he was straight. "Think ya can take
that down now."

Johnny ripped the poster off, literally ripped it, tossing it in the
bin. As he reached up Mick couldn't help staring at the peek of toned,
smooth stomach under his top and white vest, at the way his arse filled his
snug jeans.

Johnny turned around in time to see his father ogling his lean, fit
body. Mick tried to seem embarrassed, but instead just tugged at his shaft
through his jeans. There wasn't much point in pretending anymore.

"Talk," Johnny said, with a liquor-and-lust soaked voice.

Mick wasn't sure where to start, so he just sat down on the bed and stared
at his hands, wishing he could will another can into them.

"We were 'bout...he was around Lee's age and I was near yours. Your mum had
already given birth to Lee and Nance by then...felt like an old duffer. He
came to stay with us - me and your mum and your gran. Linda wasn't exactly
doin' somersaults, thought he was trouble. Thought he was givin' her the
eye."

"Was he?"

Mick laughed.

"Nah. Not her. Me."

Johnny palmed his crotch, knowing Mick would see, before Mick continued the
story.

"Agreed to take him for some drinks, give 'im a right quiz. We went to some
bar...probably a carpark now. Noticed he didn't have a thing to say to the
barmaid, no matter how many times she shoved 'er tits in his face. He was a
proper looker - like one of those lads in that boy band you pretend you
don't fancy rotten. The one you had the mobile screen of when he was
standing on the balcony in his joggers."

Johnny smiled, blushing.

"I didn't think you saw that."

Johnny sat beside him on the bed, impossibly close. Mick knew he should
move away, but he didn't. Instead, he continued his story.

"We had a few drinks...then a few more..."

Mick choked on his tongue, not sure how much further he wanted to go with
this story. The back alley, how he barely got to ask his cousin who he
fancied before the answer came with a soft hand squeezing his not-so-soft
jeans bulge. How his cousin looked terrified of Mick's reaction, soft sad
brown eyes and full quivering lips, turned into a sweet, hungry smile when
he saw that Mick wasn't going to punch him out. He grabbed Mick then,
Mick's first kiss with another bloke, his well-trimmed nails tickling the
back of Mick's neck. Mick remembered thinking even with a stubbly bloke,
the kiss wasn't that different from Linda, soft and sweet and nervous,
because of the need, the want - the way Linda always needed him, the way
everyone always needed him. Then he knew it was different from Linda when
he was pushed against the wall and his jeans were unzipped, no barrier as
his last pair of clean pants had been in the wash. Linda hated blow jobs,
so this was new and good, better than anything he'd ever expected. Those
pleading eyes looking at Mick as that warm mouth slowly took in well over
half of his thick cock. It was his cousin, it was a bloke, it was -
everything but wrong. He remembered his hands big and rough in his cousin's
hair as the eager hands shoved his jeans down to his knees and the eager
tongue began bathing his hairy bull balls.

Mick didn't have to finish the story, which ended with blowing a huge load
on his cousin's neck and expensive new shirt because he couldn't hold it in
after finally getting good head, a few more gropes and tugs in stolen
moments, leading to Mick wanking another fella for the first time (in the
toilets at another cousin's wedding...), and finally, fucking him in a
tatty motel room the night before he left for...somewhere in Germany, Mick
thought. He never could pronounce it. Some country with vowels as hard as
his cock right now. That was the first and last time he'd had his cock in a
man's arse - mostly because his cousin had asked about 50 times and Mick
was afraid he'd tell Linda if he didn't get the dick he seemed to plan his
days around by then, but also because he wanted to try it at least
once. Having only one partner was a lovely story to tell other people, but
fucking boring to actually live. This was the best time to try - the hole
being filled was on a cheap flight out the next day, and never coming
back. He also knew he was never going to be taking Linda up the arse. He
still remembered how he moaned and gasped when he first felt the squeeze,
when, after ages, he was balls deep. How tight it was, how good it
was. He'd forgotten what a tight cunt wrapped around his shaft brought out
in him. This was a man he could never be with his wife, who was so soft, so
lovely...she wouldn't want to hear him breathless as he slowly slid in and
out of her, his meaty thighs pushed against her as he slowly pushed her
face into the pillow as he made his way on top of her. He looked down at
his cousin's smooth back, his sweat dripping down onto the lean muscles,
and could have pretended it was his wife, but he didn't want to. He wanted
this to be with a bloke - wanted to remember it when he pounded hard and
rough the way he never would with his L. When he filled his cousin up,
brimming over with gooey cream that trickled down the insides of his
thighs, melded their sweaty, spent bodies together.

He thought of the blokes in the twenty years since - drunken 'straight'
mates who couldn't resist groping and sucking him dry while their wives
were chatting away downstairs (one had even eaten his hairy arse out while
they were supposed to be watching the cup final...Mick never could settle
down for a friendly can with him again after that), queens at his old pub
who were always handsy and who as often as not had to have their hands and
mouths (and if Mick was drunk enough himself, occasionally their arses) on
him. The pervy bank manager who would only extend a line of credit that
really shouldn't have been extended if Mick would unzip the tight suit
trousers he'd worn for the occasion and wank off for him right in his
office.

It hadn't been that many, especially for twenty years. So few he'd put most
of them out of his head until now, until he knew he'd be taking a much
bigger step.

He looked down to see Johnny's hand on his thigh, slowly gliding up the
denim trail. He knew he was supposed to say stop, don't, but he just
watched the hand, heard his son's short intakes of breath...looked at his
scared, eager face. So worried Mick would reject him, hurt him.

Mick couldn't do that.

As the hand reached his bulge, Mick leaned forward, his forehead against
Johnny's forehead, breathing words of love as they shared their first
kiss. Tender and sweet, gentle biting of lips, soft murmurs. Pulling apart
to lick their own lips - and each other's. A kiss-stung Johnny made Mick
growl.

Sweet turned to hot as Johnny surprised his father by expertly going to
work on his belt buckle and zip.

"Lotsa practice with that grand hand?" Mick teased, pleased he made Johnny
blush.

He thought, with another stolen kiss, Johnny would say he'd learned from
his own movements, but the answer was a surprise.

"Me and Danny - we did...we did loads..."

Mick fumed at the thought of that sleaze all over his son. He instinctively
leaned forward, squeezing the tight arse in those tight jeans.

"He didn't - " Johnny promised. "I've never."

Mick felt guilty at how happy that made him. He knew what that meant, that
he wanted Johnny's first fucking to be from him, his first raw load, the
first time he felt full from a man.

"I-I can't do this, Johnny" he said, pushing his son off the bed and trying
to stand up.

He didn't get far before Johnny reached for his half-open jeans, yanking
them down, along with his tight black briefs. His horse cock, so hard from
the forbidden encounter that it practically tore a hole through his top,
took a place of pride in his son's all-too-experienced hand.

"Please," Johnny said, a voice husky with sex. He stared up at Mick with
devotion as he began to wank him.

Mick tried to move, but he couldn't. He soon knew why. He didn't want
to. His knees buckled when Johnny began to peel back his foreskin. The need
his son felt for him made itself as clear as he placed Mick's thick bell
end on the tip of his tongue.

Mick knew now he'd never be able to stop himself. Linda hated blow jobs and
this was going to be his first in a few years. He knew it wouldn't last
very long. He lifted his top over his head, sighing as Johnny pinched at
his hairy, fat stomach at the same time as he tugged at his bull balls,
balls full of cum just for him.

They both knew that, and it made them both moan, the dual realization of
just how far they'd gone.

"Get up," Mick barked, tearing off Johnny's shirt to feel his son's smooth,
toned chest, always so much more in shape than he gave Johnny credit
for. Bare chests, hairy and hairless, bumped together as Johnny pulled his
father in for a bruising kiss.

Mick and Johnny frantically worked in tandem to shove Johnny's jeans down
his slim legs. Johnny took a breath and let Mick lower his boxers, getting
a good look at his son's hard cock - long and thin, a bit thicker than Mick
might have guessed. And pretty, like Johnny. None of the veins and
roughness of Mick.

"Perfect," he kissed into Johnny's ear as he grasped his son's length for
the first time, the full shudder and the splatter of pre-cum against his
reddened shaft and hairy nuts telling him how important this was to both of
them.

Johnny grabbed Mick's cock at the base and tugged him over, hard, one hand
squeezing his dad's chunky, furry arse as the other pushed their shafts
together, one on top of the other.

Mick was almost tempted to thank that cunt Danny for teaching his lad so
well, but he'd have to thump him first. He was jealous and yet leaking like
a busted pipe as he wondered if his son had had his fingers or tongue up
that peachy arse Danny always loved to show off in his suit trousers.

He groaned into Johnny's mouth, shuddering all over as the awareness that
he was about to make his youngest son cum, get wanked off into a mind
blowing load by his son at the same time. Sweat and fear of moving even an
inch for shooting off kept them together, Johnny's pecs to Mick's tits,
forehead to forehead, beard to sweet cheek.

Mick bit into his boy's neck, screaming in a way he was both ashamed and
staggered by as he began to rocket into his son's hand, so soft and
sensitive, yet milking him like a pro.

Johnny was right after him, sighing and cursing soft little curses, still
ashamed of being vulgar in front of his father even now, drunk and dirty,
but not so ashamed that he didn't mind erupting in his father's coarse,
callused paw of a hand.

They both stared after that, panting, Johnny's curls in his eyes. Mick
moved them out of the way, staring at his son.

"This is where we say we were wrong and we'll never do it again..." Johnny
whispered, licking his lips.

Mick nodded, glad he was out of breath, because it meant he didn't have to
respond.

He jumped, they both jumped, when they heard the women coming home,
squabbling downstairs. They had to get ready, fast.

Mick still took one final risk, not able to resist giving Johnny a sweet,
lingering kiss on his bow lips. Telling his awe-struck son, without words,
that none of this was wrong, or his fault...and, with one last wink before
he left the bedroom, that they'd be doing this again.

[][][][][][][][][]

Mick's oldest son, Johnny's big brother (in every sense of the word, as
he'd show you after a few beers), Lee, was on his way to Walford for a
surprise visit, but didn't quite make it. He only got as far as a pub on
the outskirts before his bladder and the lateness of the night stopped
him. He wondered how his family was doing - running their own pub, the way
his mum and dad had always wanted. He hadn't been in close contact in the
last few months, with being in the army, but he missed them. The routine
was a distraction, along with the constant stream of pussy and prick, but
he still felt lonely most of the time.

He heard two men mention Walford as they walked in. They didn't seem very
friendly. The broader and younger man, probably around Lee's age, was named
Joey. Clean-cut - like one of those sex dolls Lee had more boozy blowout
experience with than he'd admit to. Dark hair, close-cropped and always
combed into place. A superhero's chiseled jaw and sculpted chest and arms,
rippling muscles. Tree trunk thighs. A porn star's dick and ass, a bubble
arse made of pure muscle (Lee's was as much fat as muscle, which he always
felt anxious about...not that most of the slags of various genders seemed
to mind when they got their hands on it) and a huge hose pipe painted
against his skintight brown slacks.

The other man, Danny, looked about ten or fifteen years older, but was just
as handsome; more in the slick supervillain way, world domination and
bedroom dominance all in one tasty package. He obviously wore well-tailored
suits, this one shiny and black. He took off his jacket for no real reason,
other than to let everyone look at the goods. Genetics and regular exercise
had obviously given him a tasty rump, juicy even as the rest of his body
was slim. Lee knew immediately he must be a fag or at least, like Lee, a
dirty slag for anything that came along, with the way he was happy to
present what was a beautiful arse.

The men clearly were not friends as a few pints led them to louder
arguments, over some bird named Janine, with some nasty comments about her
plumbing that Lee tried not to snicker at, with the one named Joey lashing
out at the one named Danny for only getting his "tiny cock" hard for
Janine's cash, followed by the one named Danny accusing the one named Joey
of just shagging her because he got bored of his cousin. Lee snorted, as
this was getting good. It got even better when the one named Danny then
pulled his prick out where only Joey - and Lee, lucky boy that he was -
could see. And he definitely didn't have a tiny cock.

There was clearly going to be a fight, so they shoved each other into the
toilets. Lee discreetly followed, hearing cursing and shouting, but more to
the point of his aching anaconda, he also heard kissing, biting, grunting,
and the tearing of clothes. Buttons flying, shirts ripping. Joey's shirt
was in pieces around his torso as Danny bit at his juicy tits and big
succulent nipples. Danny's white dress shirt was wide open, ruined, as Joey
yanked at his chest hair and punched at the slight tummy he had on his
genetically blessed frame.

He fished his cock out of his fatigues as the two men began to desperately
strip below the waist. Joey's cock was one of the biggest Lee had ever
seen, a two-hander that Lee would guess cocked in at 10 inches. It
practically went up to the ceiling, expressing its approval of Danny's own
stiff member. His arse was even more stunning, pale marble that proved
immune to the many slaps and whacks from Danny's skilled hand...and soon,
his belt.

Lee stripped fully naked now, pinching his nipples and looking at his gut
and fleshy pecs in the mirror, wiping his hair out of his eyes to get a
better look at his own gift from the dick gods. He wanted to be jealous of
Joey but really he just wanted it in his mouth and in his arse. He hoped
he'd get the chance someday.

As he ran his hands down his meaty thighs and slapped his fat prick against
his hand, he listened as they kept talking, cut in between groans and
grunts that were clearly Joey sitting on Danny's generous girth.

They asked each other what their wildest experiences had been lately.

Joey hesitated until the dicking got so good that his defenses and shame
were all gone. He admitted he'd gotten into a huge fight with his uncle Max
and they'd fucked on the living room sofa. He'd eaten out his uncle's arse,
and went on about how perfect it was until Lee wished he could see it in a
museum. He finished up by saying he'd fucked his uncle so hard that he
hadn't been able to walk right for a week.

Lee bit into his hand to hide the groan. One hand went to his mouth and
then behind him to plug his hungry and huge arse up with three fingers, the
other went to town wanking at his jawbreaker and tugging at his lightly
haired low-hangers.

He waited to hear how Danny would top it...and he got more than he ever
expected when Danny boasted about how he'd flirted with, exchanged nude
pictures with, kissed, stripped and sucked the new 19-year old twink in
Walford, and would be popping his cherry any day now. Joey, as he blew his
load all over Danny's chest, neck and face, asked who it was.

When Danny, in between greedy licks of cum down his throat, said,
reverently, that the lad's name was "Johnny Carter," Lee came so hard he
nearly blacked out. Rivers and rivers of the wildest and the most shocked
and most guilt-ridden load he'd ever lost.

Slumped against the stall door as he listened to Danny and Joey starting on
another round, Lee knew he'd have a lot to talk to his brother about on his
next visit.