Date: Thu, 4 Nov 2010 22:34:04 +0000
From: Some Chap <just_some_chap@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: New Direction for One Direction Part 3

This story deals with (highly) adult themes, and is really not at all
appropriate for children. Copyright me.

The intimate details revealed in this story is not to be construed as an
admission on my part that I'm really quite good friends with the boys of
One Direction. I do not know them, and this is complete fiction. As far as
I know.

Thanks to all those kind of enough to email. I try to reply to all emails
sent, and suggestions for what to do with Zayn Malik (the next part) are
still more then welcome. This chapter includes what I consider to be enough
stuff, you'll be happy to know :-D This chapter has no 'inspiration' as
such, as it merely follows on from the previous chapter; although it does
utilise the fact that Louis is the only one with a known girlfriend. It
also follows a more traditional authoritarian style once it gets going, for
those who aren't mad keen on the hypnotism thing.

This should go without saying, but incase it does need to be said: I have
absolutely no idea how hypnotism works, and I use it in this story as a
plot device, which I mold to suit my own individual tastes and desires for
the story, nothing more.

The product of my somewhat fanciful mind, this story follows the exploits
of a man who is, quite simply, mad. As a result, aspiring to follow in his
footsteps should itself be considered a sign of mental instability.

The third part of my first story, submitted after over a decade of
dutifully reading the nifty archieves, I would be most grateful for any
comments to be sent to: just_some_chap@hotmail.co.uk But please, unlike the
mad doctor, don't be too harsh :)

It is not necessary to read the first or second part prior to this part,
but if you enjoy this, you will probably enjoy the others.

(Gay, celeb, auth, mc, adult/youth)

Chapter the Third: Louis Tomlinson - The Sporty One


I wandered the expansive hallways of the house for a few minutes, and ran
into Louis just coming out of a bathroom. "Alright," he said with a
grin. "Just havin' a piss, b'fore we get started."

"Yes. Well, don't mind me. Please, lead on."

Louis led me down a hallway, into his bedroom, making small-talk as he
went. I was too fixated on his cheery angular face and the deliciously
toned, hairless arms poking out from his oversized T-Shirt to pay much
attention to the words. I just smiled and nodded, although I have to admit,
his working-class northern twang was making me hard, again. I found it hard
to believe he was 18; he looked a lot younger. Very boyish. The room was,
like Niall's, fairly spartan; no posters on the white walls, although there
was a large window, with lots of midday sunlight streaming through. After a
moment of looking around, I spoke to the lad. "Ok, Louis, as we don't have
long before your game, I guess we'd better get started. Why don't you just
sit down, wherever you feel comfortable, ok?"

He opted to plonk himself down on a bright red polyester armchair that was
placed in the corner of his room, and was totally out of character with the
rest of the room - although I suppose that's neither here nor there. But
let me assure you, my wife wouldn't approve.



Slouching back on the chair with his back and neck straight, his legs were
spread and his hands were resting on his thighs. His feet were wrapped in a
pair of white reebok classics, with short white ankle socks underneath
them. His feet looked strong, and big. I could see a fine mat of dark hair
trailing up his firm, well-exercised legs and tantalisingly up beyond the
hem of his satiny navy-blue football shorts; not exactly 'hairy', but
certainly more than the other two I'd corrupted. Whilst the shorts were
loose, his spread legs meant it was easy to make out a mass of well-packed
meat at their apex. Looking up to his face, I passed over the lads chest;
impossible to see the extent of his definition, but his wide shoulders and
defined arms implied he would be as well filled-out under his
black-and-blue striped T-Shirt as he appeared to be under his matching
shorts.

"Ok like this?" Delicious. He didn't seem to even realise how I was
devouring him whilst he was sitting there.

"Yes. Sit just like that for me, Louis." He smiled, as though reassured. He
shouldn't of been. "Now, just to make sure I'm absolutely clear - you want
me to make you better at football?"

"Yeah. Well, my girlfriend likes to watch me play-" I bet she does, I
thought. "-and I ain't played against these guys before. I don't want to
make a tit of myself. And I read about this bloke in America-" oh, here we
go. "-who was, like, hypnotised into having faster reactions and stuff, and
he was better at playing football. It was their football, though, not
ours...will that make much of a difference?"

"That? No, THAT won't make much of a difference, Louis." He was talking
absolute nonsense; probably 'read' about it in FHM, in an article
sandwiched between the top ten fittest Big Brother contestants ever and the
top 20 GP receptionists of 2010. But if it helped me get access to his
traditionally straight cock, I was willing to go along with it. As you
might imagine, I had now made it a matter of personal honour to sample the
thick loads of the entire group, comparing and contrasting as I go.

I asked, in a manner which implied his answer mattered, "what position do
you play?"

"Striker," he said with a satisfied grin.

I nodded sagely, not knowing what that word meant. "I see," I said.

He looked concerned as he suddenly asked me, "oh, I won't have to pay, will
I? We ain't got any money yet, so I'm skint."

"Well, Louis, it is an interesting exercise, if nothing else, and I'd
certainly like to see how...effective...such a method of improving a
sportsman's ability is, in reality. So yes, I'll...help...you, for no
charge. Besides...I'm sure we can work out some form of compensation
later," I said with a smile. He just smiled back. The dumb fuck. I
retrieved my induction device, and used the same pattern I'd utilised on
Niall, hoping I'd get a similar level of hypnotic depth with Louis as I got
with Niall. This was unlikely, however: whilst you couldn't really tell
from his boyish face or dopey state-educated brain, the fact of the matter
is that his brain is simply more developed then that of the other boys, and
hence, harder to subvert. I knew I'd do my best, though. After a few
minutes, he appeared to be quietly dozing, with his chin falling forward
onto his T-Shirt, and his eyes closed. This was my cue to begin.



"Louis, can you hear me?"

"...yeah."

"Good. I want you to imagine yourself on a football pitch, Louis. Not just
any football pitch, however; the most prestigious football pitch in the
country. The one you want to play at more than any other. And all your
friends and family are in the crowd; they're all there, together with
thousands of others, to watch you play, Louis. You're playing against the
best team in the world. But as you kickoff, you feel yourself weaving
through other players; dodging their tackles, thwarting their passes; you
feel yourself moving faster, striking harder - you've never felt yourself
play so well! It is this which I want you to take with you onto the pitch
today, Louis; this spirit and strength of resolve, which will see you
perform better than you ever have before at football." As I spoke, it
became obvious he was a boy who took his sport seriously, as I spied a
thick tube running down his left thigh. Knowing he wasn't fully under yet,
I knew I had to resist the temptation to touch him. But it did look mighty
appetizing. Seeing his eyes tightly closed and his sombre, level breathing,
I instead quickly knelt between his long legs, and reached for his
shorts. Pulling the loose hem away from his inner thigh, I allowed the rays
of sunlight coming through the window to shine some light on the situation;
peering up past his fit, hairy leg, I could just about make out some
pristine, practically glowing white boxer-briefs, with a largely
peach-coloured dick-head poking out the corner, with just a sublime pink
tip, as his head began to reveal itself. The legs of his underwear was so
tight, it made his dick look like it was taped to his leg; I chuckled at
this. Wanting to see more of him, but still a little perturbed at touching
him directly, I simply bunched up the hem of his shorts up past his boxers,
so I could stare at his organ whilst we chatted. Sitting back and sighing
contentedly, I continued. "However, Louis. There is a problem. You worry
about your skills deserting you as quickly as they arrived. About making a
fool of yourself in front of all those people. Doesn't that terrify you
Louis?"

He looked distressed as he replied, "um, yeah, it does."

"I imagine if I told you I could ensure your new, superior abilities would
never desert you, well...you'd do pretty much anything for that, wouldn't
you?"

"Yeah. Anything."

"Good boy," I said, looking at his still covered knob out the corner of my
eye, wanting to do nothing more than just skin him back and go to town.

I continued, "well, so long as you listen to my voice, Louis, I can do
exactly that. But you must always follow the instructions of my voice; if
you deviate in any way, then I can't be held responsible for what might
happen. Do you understand?" He nodded in the affirmative. "Now we don't
have much time, so in a few moments, I'm going to wake you up. You shall
awaken feeling refreshed and revitalised, and eager to begin your football
game. However, you will still feel compelled to follow my instructions,
knowing that I know best, and feeling an intense and overwhelming sense of
absolute fear whenever you so much as consider the possibility of not doing
precisely what I say. You will remember nothing, whatsoever, of your time
when hypnotised. Do you understand?" Again, he nodded. Not being able to
resist any longer, but knowing they were probably looking for him
downstairs, I quickly knelt, and placed my nose against the tight head,
gently sniffing the delicate scent emanating from his crotch. It was
obvious he'd showered, and he was more perfumed then Niall had been and
yet, underneath the sweet deodorant was a harsher, more primal scent then I
had detected on the other two boys. I gave one long, sloppy lick along the
curve of his knob, causing the skin to retract further, but resisting the
urge to carry on; I pulled his shorts back down, and woke him up. He rubbed
his eyes for a second, before quickly realising his predicament and
crossing his legs. "Happens all the time," I said simply. He frowned,
unpleased at the idea of me noticing, and stood when he felt he could get
away with it. I continued, "well Louis, I believe you have a football game
to play," at which point he quickly barged past me, eager to get out the
room.

"Erm, thanks," he said awkwardly before leaving. I let him close the door.

"Anytime, my boy," I said to no-one in particular.



I went to the kitchen downstairs and chatted with some of the production
staff who were making lunch, mainly to confirm it'd be okay if I stayed. It
was nothing particularly appetising; pasta in some sort of red sauce. But,
I wasn't about to leave easily, given my plans. It was apparently something
they did once a week; get all the contestants around a big table for a
meal, to help them bond and what have you. The acts didn't involve
themselves in making this meal, on the logic that they had to prepare all
their own meals for the rest of the week. I thought it was a nice idea. The
kitchen had a short hallway leading to a bathroom at one end, and a doorway
leading to the dining room which contained a large, rectangular table in
the centre of the room, and large French windows leading on to an expansive
lawned garden. The table was far too large for the room, with chairs on all
sides pressing up against walls, but they were clearly determined to get
EVERYONE around a table. I walked out into the garden, and leaned against
an old oak tree as I watched the boys playing their game. I enjoyed
watching the thrill and the exhilaration clearly on show as they all tried
to best each other. The younger boys clearly wanted it more however, and I
slowly zoned out as I watched their muscles fight one another under their
shirts. It was a thrill to know I had seen what was under the shirts and
shorts of two of the players; Niall, who'd changed into shorts but still
wore his funky white T-Shirt, and Harry, who was dressed exactly the same
as when he'd had what looked like a pint of spunk squirted over his face
not an hour previously. I felt a presence beside me, and turned, surprised,
as I was knocked out of my reverie. It was a woman; girl, I guess. And then
it clicked. "Louis' girlfriend, right?" I said. She nodded, rolling her
eyes as she did so. Clearly she was a little fed up of being referred to as
'Louis' girlfriend'. Louis was clearly one of the better players, although
the extent to which I was responsible for that, I couldn't be sure; as we
watched her boyfriend play, I chatted idly with her, about many banal and
inconsequential things, all the while with the taste of her boyfriends
tangy cock-flesh still fresh on my mind.



When the game ended, Louis and Niall made a beeline for me, and the rest of
the group grudgingly followed, with Harry moving the most grudgingly of
all.

"Never played so good. In. My. LIFE!" Said a clearly enthused Louis, as he
wrapped his hand around his girlfriend's waist.

"Yes, very impressive," I replied, not really knowing what I was talking
about. Niall laughed at my reaction.

Liam spoke to Harry, "mate, would you have a shower or something? You
fucking stink after that game!"

Harry snapped back angrily, "fuck you! I'm just a bit sweaty, is all."

Laughing, I tried to create some semblance of order, "now now, boys, let's
play nice, shall we?" The boys quietened down, and we had split into two
distinct groups; me, Louis and Niall in one, and Liam, Zayn and Harry in
other, and we didn't really mix as we made our way into the house.

As Louis and his girlfriend were whispering sweet nothings to each other, I
asked Niall, "so how do you think you did, Niall?"

"I did great! Scored the winning goal, didn't I?"

I laughed, "yes, good point." I honestly hadn't noticed that fact; think I
was looking at Liam's shorts at the time, but I did notice Niall's constant
demands for affirmation from authority figures - something I could
certainly make use of, I thought. I wondered if it might change once he got
himself into a regular fuck schedule with Harry. There's no better
affirmation that the affirmation gained from completely sexually dominating
a peer, I find.

After a few minutes, we'd made our way into the house, and most of the boys
went upstairs to change. I got myself a glass of red wine, and watched the
chaps scurry off to get changed. As instructed, Harry hung around
downstairs, not really seeing the need to get changed. As I stood by the
kitchen worktop, I observed Niall walk up to Harry, and say something to
him. Harry rolled his eyes as though annoyed, and began to follow Niall
upstairs. I thought for a minute. And then I waited a few minutes more. And
then I put my glass of wine down, and made my way to the staircase. I knew
what they were doing of course; although I couldn't quite believe that
Niall was horny again ALREADY. I knew that being lazy-ass kids, they'd go
to the closest of their bedrooms, which was Harry's. I thought there was a
chance of the door being locked, but kids with sex on their minds can often
forget such fundamentally important concepts such as security, and
privacy. Standing before the door, I got out my camera phone, and selected
the right setting. Placing my hand on the door handle, I turned and opened
it suddenly, swinging it open, and taking first one, then two, and then
three pictures of Harry on all fours like a dog, with Niall mounting him,
his cock midway up Harry's well-used hole. By the third picture, they'd had
the good grace to turn and look directly at the camera, open mouthed and
wide-eyed, so there could be no mistaking their identities.

"Well, this is a turn up for the books," I said as I walked in and closed
the door - locking it as I did so.

"What the fuck-"

Harry had begun to speak, before I interjected, sniggering as I did so,
"Harry, please, don't even try to blind me with your smug holier-than-thou
faux-superiority complex bourne out a clear realisation of your obvious
inferiorities; you're current position really destroys any credibility you
might have in that regard."

Niall was speechless, and still had the same expression my camera captured
about 30 seconds ago. "I like girls," he said simply, voice shaking as he
did so.

"Yeah. Well, you've got a funny way of showing it, kid."

"I...don't...this is just...just letting off steam. He," he nodded towards
Harry, "he doesn't mind, really."

"Ah, I see. So Harry's the queer?"

"NO!" Said Harry.

"YES!" Said Niall.

"I have to say Harry, you ARE the one with a dick up your arse. I mean,
straight guys like Niall here have needs, like all of us. It's pretty
obvious to me that you're essentially in the group to provide sexual relief
for the rest."

"Oh fuck off," said Harry.

"No, Harry, YOU fuck off. See, all I just said - I'll be sure to say it
when I hand over these pictures as an anonymous 'show insider'."

Colour began to drain from his face. Niall was slowly beginning to pull his
softening dick out of Harry's rump. I said calmly whilst pointing at him,
"stay right where you fucking are, Niall," at which point Niall shoved
himself back in, causing Harry to wince. "Now, of course," I continued, "it
needn't be like that. Every man has his price, and I have mine."

"We ain't got no fucking money," replied Harry, still on his hands and
knees with his friends fat dick stuffed up his ass, which made the
'negotiations' all the more amusing for me.

"No. Well, we'll just have to figure out some other payment system, now
won't we?"



Ten minutes later, I left the room, my negotiations with the fuck buddies
having been concluded to my satisfaction, if not their own. I made my way
down stairs for lunch. A few of the contestants and staff were seated
around the large wooden table. Several white tablecloths were used to cover
the large expanse of the table, with them spilling over the edge of the
table and coming about halfway down to the floor, right the way around
it. Louis' girlfriend, as a 'guest of honour', was seated at the head of
one end of the table. Her boyfriend was sitting next to her, on the
corner. Louis was still dressed in his football kit...I don't know what
they did upstairs, but they clearly didn't have much time to change. I got
the seat on Louis' left, who was holding his girlfriends hand over the
table. The size of the table and the space between places meant that whilst
he was on the corner, he was fairly far from the corner itself, and
consequentially, from the little lady. It was for this reason that I knew I
could safely whisper to him that he should ignore whatever I did, just act
completely normally, and answer my questions. He frowned for a moment, his
conscious mind obviously not happy, but then nodded in agreement as my
previous instructions kicked in. As I ran my hand up and down his hairy
thigh, I asked him to tell me why he hadn't gotten changed, like everyone
else. Looking over his shoulder, I could see his girlfriend was now talking
to Harry, who was seated on the other side of her, opposite Louis, looking
rather flushed. Louis whispered to me that he and the woman had gone to his
room to have sex, but didn't have enough time for him to cum. She'd cum,
though, so couldn't see much of a problem. Bitch. "Well, I hardly think
it's fair that she'd left you hanging like that, Louis. As a medical
professional, I can tell you that blue balls is a serious condition. I tell
you what...how about if we try and work that load out of you now? You'd
like that, right?"

"Um...well..." he looked around. "If you want, I suppose..."

I squeezed his thigh in appreciation. "Good lad. Well, first things first;
why don't you go to the bathroom now, and take off your boxers for me?
That'll make access a lot easier."

"Um. Yeah. Ok." He stood up suddenly, looking confused and unhappy about
the situation, clearly not entirely understanding why he's complying with
my instructions. "Oh, Louis," I said as an afterthought, "remember to put
your shorts back on afterwards, eh? Don't want to make a fool of yourself."
The young man dutifully sulked off to the upstairs bathroom, and I got a
hardon.



I leaned over the table, "excuse me," I said to the girlfriend. "Harry, can
I speak to you in the kitchen, please."

The two of us stood up to leave, and walked into a kitchen which was
slightly busier than usual, with a group of three women buzzing around
getting lunch ready. There were four platters on a countertop, each with
raw sliced carrots, crisps and dips. I ate a crisp, attracting the derision
of one of the older ladies. "Oi! Leave them alone! They're supposed to be
on the table."

"Sorry," I replied humbly. Old battleaxe. What is it with women? Put them
in front of a stove and they turn into Idi Amin. Harry leaned into a
countertop, at the point where it intersected another countertop at a right
angle. I stood to his right. "So what happened upstairs, Harry?"

"What the...dude, just leave me alone. I don't want to talk about it."

I grabbed his arm. "Well that's a right royal fucking shame, twat, because
you're going to start talking about it in far greater detail then you would
like. Either to me, or to a journalist - your choice."

"Ok, ok, alright - he fucked me, ok? Happy?" I was, actually.

"Problem?" I swung around, pulling Harry closely to my side and wrapping my
arm around him, seeing Simon.

"No. No problem." I said, a little bit scared. I began nibbling on one of
the carrot sticks beside me, more out of nervousness then hunger.

"You ok Harry?" Simon looked concerned. Harry looked like he had seen
better days. I knew for a fact that his arsehole had seen better days. He
nodded glumly.

"Yeah. A bit...depressed."

"I see." He looked at me. "You've spent a bit of time with Harry
today...why don't you give him some breathing room?"

My rage was total, but I smiled and gave my ascent. "Sure." Simon slowly
turned and walked out to take a seat - probably at the other head of the
table, the tosser. Myself and Harry moved as two of the women took two of
the platters out to the front, with the one remaining woman frantically
stirring a big pot of something or other, bubbling away on the stove at the
other end of the kitchen. As the women turned their backs, I made sure the
remaining one was preoccupied with the cooking before taking a blunt carrot
stick from a remaining platter, reaching down the back of Harry's trackies
and boxers, and drove the still-cold orange root vegetable cleanly up his
arse, causing him to leap forward and yelp, and making this an even worse
day for his arsehole then it was originally. The woman didn't notice. I
grabbed his arm, and frogmarched him towards the dining room. "Consider
that the only warning you will get before I sell those fucking pictures," I
said, adding, "and because of your actions just now, fuckhead, I will at
some point today demand a token of compliance from you. If you do not
provide it, I will sell the pictures, and do everything possible to destroy
you. Do you understand."

"Hmm," he said, his voice shaking. By this point we had entered the dining
room, and my grip loosened to become a good natured push, to get him to sit
down. As Harry sat, I observed Simon watching me, and smiled. He didn't
return the smile.



I sat down myself, back in my original seat, with Louis looking at me
angrily.

"Where the fuck were you?" He demanded.

"Just filling Harry in on something," I said, nodding my head towards the
boy opposite me; Harry heard, and turned beet red. "Why?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?" I frowned, and looked down
at his low hand, containing his designer Tommy Hilfiger boxer-briefs.

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Yeah. I forgot about that. Don't you have
any pockets?"

He gave me a pained expression of annoyance. After I looked and remembered
he was in soccer shorts (they were currently obscured by the table-cloth,
which removed his entire legs from view - that's my story for forgetting,
and I'm sticking to it), I chuckled. "Oh, I see. Yes, my mistake. Well..."
I paused, as if thinking of this for the first time, "I...SUPPOSE...I could
look after them for you?"

"Yeah. Just fucking take them." He thrust the warm boxers into my hand, and
he turned to smile at his girlfriend, as if embarrassed. Can't think why. I
put them in my pocket, before returning my right hand to Louis' warm inner
thigh. I heard his voice falter slightly as he spoke to the girlfriend. He
didn't react as I began to slowly run my hand up and down, up and down,
from his knee up to the hem of his shorts, quietly talking to Aiden
Grimshaw on my left as I did so. I could see out the corner of my eye Harry
fidgeting on his seat. I had to fight to contain my laughter. On my hand's
upward journey, rather than turning back and returning to the lads knee, I
continued up, into the dark recesses of his shorts, pushing them up as I
did so, until my hand rested near his hip, with his cock gently firming up
against my knuckles, and his left bollock snuggling up against my hard
finger nails. We each continued our separate conversations, albeit his at a
slightly higher pitch. After a few seconds of getting the lay of the land,
and looking at everyone around the table idly chatting, I moved my right
hand up and over his entire package, forcefully scooping his semi-hard cock
and full ballbag out into the cool air, hooking the hem of his shorts down
by the hairy base of his meat. For the first time, I slowly wrapped my hand
around the lovely thick shaft of his cock, taking ownership of him in the
process. I felt him initially tense, before slouching down into his chair,
spreading his legs as he did so (I felt his left knee bang into my right
knee), presumably in a search for greater security from prying eyes, whilst
also granting me greater access to his box of goodies. Truth be told, he
was reasonably safe from detection; with chairs being backed up against the
wall, and us being placed furthest away from the people milling around the
entrance to the kitchen, nobody was about to walk behind us and see my hand
absent-mindedly rooting around his crotch, and his entire lower half was
obscured by the white tablecloth, meaning nobody could see the fact I'd
pulled his furry meat and potatoes out into the open air. People could
always notice the smell however; whilst most of the people around the table
had showered, Louis, Harry and Niall obviously hadn't - I didn't know if
what I could smell was emanating from Louis' groin, or Harry and Niall's
sex funk, but it turned me on regardless. Slowly moving my hand down, into
his tangled mass of pubes, and then up, over the fat knob surrounded his
loose foreskin, I began the always satisfying job of methodically milking
the boy. He had stopped talking to his girlfriend now; or rather, had
stopped listening to her, and had his eyes fixed on the starched white
tablecloth before him, his hands firmly gripping the edge of the table. We
were each served plates of food; I ate my pasta with my left hand, my right
being busy; Louis didn't seem too interested in his food. As I picked up
speed, I felt his ass slowly begin to rub back and forth on the polished
wooden chair. His breathing became shallower, but he was clearly trying to
keep it under control. What he hadn't anticipated however, was my ability
to keep his straight-boy dick under my control, and once his thrusting
became forceful enough to tell me he was agonisingly close, I released him,
just as his girlfriend looked over and said, "eat up, babe; it's getting
cold."



He picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat pasta the way cretins do:
with a knife and fork. I continued to just use my fork, as my other hand
had now moved deeper between his legs, and was fondling his nuts as we both
ate. When I first gripped them, weighing them up in my hand (bigger than
Harry's, smaller than Niall's, in-case you're wondering - I know I was), he
choked on his food slightly; but once he got accustomed to my ballplay, he
simply sat there, legs spread, eating calmly whilst I made use of his
well-developed teenage sex-organs for my own enjoyment. He still had a look
of wide-eyed wonder on his face, though. Twirling a bunch of hairs on his
sack together between my thumb and forefinger, I playfully yanked at them,
causing his whole body to perceptibly move in my direction. I did this for
a couple of minutes. I finished my meal before he finished his; but I was
hardly going to wait for him, so my hand once again returned to wanking his
cock for him. He closed his eyes and sighed, indicating he was clearly
happy with this new development. I was worried that he might of gone off
the boil, but he clearly liked having his balls played with, because he was
still rock hard. After a couple of minutes, my hand was slick with the
juice he was constantly drizzling onto the chair, like a leaky tap. When he
was once again reached the point of no return, I slowed, causing him to
look at me, and then stopped altogether; his knuckles went white with
frustration. I extracted my hand from his sweaty groin, and methodically
licked my palm, and my fingers. This caught the attention of Harry, who
shook his head in embarrassment, and the girlfriend, who looked
puzzled. "Finger lickin' good," I said with a smile, as I continued to lick
up her boyfriends prejizz from my overworked hand. She looked at Louis, who
looked toward the floor, and Harry, who just stared at me, before laughing
it off. Returning my hand below the table, I gripped Louis' thigh with
purpose, and hooked it over my own right thigh, causing him to slip further
down into his chair, so everything below the top of his abs was obscured by
the tablecloth. This gave me the opportunity to run my hand up under his
T-Shirt, my palm gliding over his cock in the process, causing it to pulse
and spurt out another dribble of pre, and feel those nicely defined
abdominals, coated in just a fine, imperceptible peach-fuzz. I prodded and
squeezed them for a few minutes, during which time he sat, heavily slouched
in his chair, wordlessly observing my hand play underneath his top, like a
dog with its master, watching what he does and wondering what he'll do
next.



I returned to his groin, gripping his cock firmly, and wanking him off for
the third time, no doubt with him hoping that I'd let him ejaculate on this
occasion. My hand passed over his head again and again, as I alternated
between quick, and slow, gentle, and firm. He was now openly gyrating his
entire lower body into and out of my hand, as I used my other hand to keep
a firm grip on the thigh draped over my leg. His hands remained fixed on
the edge of the table. As he got close, I once again left his cock high and
wet, causing him to let out a frustrated moan, and garnering the attention
of about a third of the table. Leaning forward in my chair, I gained the
leverage and position necessary to move my right hand straight down, scoop
his balls out of the way, and shove two blunt fingers deep into his ass,
making a beeline for his prostate. Once I'd grazed it, that triggered him
to fire bolt after bolt of jizz, with a good number of people looking
straight at him as he looked at the ceiling, eyes tightly shut, doing
everything possible to control his convulsions. I unceremoniously unhooked
Louis' firm hairy thigh from my own leg with the words, "better out then
in, Louis. You'll feel better for that." He was still breathing heavily,
and had a sheen of perspiration on his face as he sat there.



I still had to make sure I had properly corrected Harry earlier, and I was
also somewhat crestfallen that I hadn't managed to sample young Louis'
spunk, in contravention of my private ambitions to get the flavour of the
entire group. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I spoke to Louis
after a minute or so. "Louis, put your cock away, then get up and inform
Harry that I want him to go, with you, to the bathroom. I'll be along
shortly."

Louis stood and walked around the table. I saw him whisper to Harry, and
the look of annoyance on Harry's face confirmed that he had properly
conveyed my message. I watched Harry stand and chuckled when I saw what he
apparently hadn't seen - that a not insubstantial amount of Louis' cream
had impacted the bottom of his dark track pants. I didn't say anything, and
watched as the two lads went to the downstairs bathroom, just on the other
side of the kitchen. I waited a few minutes and followed them. Passing
through the kitchen, I saw some sort of desert being prepared; I didn't
even know we were getting any. A bland-looking steamed sponge pudding and
custard, by the looks of it. How boring.

Reaching the bathroom, I turned the knob and opened it, finding the two
boys waiting for me; Harry, because he had blackmailed into doing whatever
I said, and Louis, because he felt intense fear whenever he considered not
doing whatever I said. Louis was sitting on the toilet, whilst Harry was
standing by a bath. "Hello chaps," I said as I closed and locked the door
behind me.

Harry said nothing, whereas Louis said in elevated volume, "as soon as he
was in here, he tried to take his fuckin trousers off! The bloody queer!"

"Oh shut up Louis, I was takin' 'em off because I've got a carrot up my
arse!"

Louis pointed at him, open mouthed and wide-eyed, "see! I told you he was a
queer!"

Harry was about to angrily respond, before I interjected to take charge of
the situation. "Boys. Please. There are people just on the other side of
this door, and you might want to keep your sexual peccadillo's to yourself,
Harry."

"But-"

I pointed at him. "Shut. Up. Now, if you'd quit your fucking whining,
you'll see what I've called you here for isn't that big a fucking
deal. Louis, move." The boy stood and remained standing besides the
toilet. I took the seat he'd just vacated, and pulled down his shorts, and
Harry's trackies and boxers. I turned Harry round, and chortled when I saw
the end of the bright orange carrot sticking out of his anus. Rather then
remove it, I spun him back round, causing him to curse me for leaving it in
there still.

He insisted, "it fucking tickles!" I just ignored him, instead choosing to
lazily lick up the soft chunky stem of his moist, flavoursome cock,
nibbling on the base and his pubes, themselves infused with both his
natural boy scent and the remains of the two loads I'd supervised out of
him in the four hours since he'd got up. Reaching around and cupping his
muscular ass cheeks, I pulled him further into me, slipping the entire cock
into my mouth as his foreskin slid back, revealing his cummy head to my
moist mouth once again. I could see out the corner of my eye Louis quietly
masturbating himself as he watched us; I reached over, and once again
massaged his balls as he worked his knob. As he began to lengthen in my
mouth, I had to admit that I enjoyed Harry's cock the most. I particularly
liked how he attained another forceful erection within minutes of entering
my wet mouth. My intention was not to make him cum, so much, but more to
enjoy myself; this was more about my pleasure rather then his, although as
a side effect, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, standing there
with his hands on my head, eyes closed, and unknowingly humming, or
whining, when my tongue swiped his head, savouring the residue there. After
about six minutes, Harry was once again close. I quietly removed my mouth
from his cock before he came, causing him to throw insults in my direction
once again. I'd smack him, if I wasn't on my knees; so instead, I put his
cock back in my mouth, and bit down on the fucker, causing him to yelp out
in pain. I asked him whilst now wanking Louis' cock, "do you remember me
telling you to shut up, Harry?"

"Yes," he replied, unhappily.

"Then do it."



I turned back to Louis, who was standing in the middle of the bathroom with
his shorts around his knees, putting first one hairy man-nut in my mouth,
and then another, as I sucked the stale, cold sweat from the afternoons
game that was still clinging to the myriad of hairs coating his sack, like
a coconut. After a few minutes, I let his gonads plop out of my mouth, and
licked each one in turn before running my tongue up from his balls, along
the stem demarking the side of his thick, tasty shaft, before reaching the
bulbous summit of his knob. I wrapped my lips around it tightly, sucking
his head like a contented baby whilst corkscrewing the shaft
methodically. Louis, horny dripper that he was, provided me with a
continuous taste sensation in the form of the nut juice continually basting
his head - and my tongue - with natural lube. He put up with my assault
admirably, until I performed that dastardliest of dastardly tricks when
sucking off straight boys - I surreptitiously clamped my hands on his high,
sporty arse, and slipped an uncompromising, thick digit up his hole, once
again finding his orgasm button, and pressing it firmly. He took a couple
of steps forward, lodging his thick cock down my throat, and began firing
once again, moaning deeply as he did so. The first two shots went straight
down my throat; but I managed to withdraw enough to taste the rich thick
texture and almost accrid saltiness of the third, fourth and fifth, whilst
using my hands to work out a syrupy, bland sixth. I slowly removed my mouth
from his cock, and pulled up his shorts.

"Get back to your chair," I said between deep breaths, "they'll be serving
pudding in a bit." We'd only been gone about 10 minutes, but the sooner we
were back, the better. He opened the door, and I saw the kitchen staff
heading out to the dining room, to pick up the empty crockery. I hoped the
semi that was tenting Louis' shorts had abated by the time he got to the
dining room. "You," I said, getting to my feet and standing before Harry,
"still have your little task to perform for me. And you're going to perform
it now," I said as I returned to wanking him.

"What? But-"

"Yeah, I know - you deduced that your task of compliance was putting up
with me giving you an orgasm. Well sorry, Columbo, but your task is
actually a little less easy on you. You're going to go out there," I said,
pointing to the door which would lead to the kitchen, "and you will cum
what you have remaining in those nuts of yours into the custard."

"WHAT?"

"You'd best get moving, sunshine; the women won't be too keen to see you do
it, and they won't be out of the kitchen forever."

"So if I don't do this..."

"You'll be ruined. And your friends will all think you take it up the
arse. And the tabloids will forever talk about you as the lad who went on
X-Factor because he really wanted to suck off boys from the telly."

"Jesus Christ," his face was white, as though he was an actual corpse, and
his cock began to wilt.

"MOVE! Don't you understand? You HAVE to do this, right now, and you don't
have much time! SO MOVE!" My shouting roused him into action, and he ran
from the room. I took a moment to comb my hair in the mirror; a bit of a
state after those blowjobs. After I was happy with it, I opened the door,
and quietly closed it, walking down the short hallway to see in the kitchen
the site I had originally envisioned; Harry, trackies around his fit
thighs, kneeling whilst furiously masturbating into a big pot of custard
he'd taken off the stove and put on the floor. I did the obvious; took out
my phone and took a couple of pictures, before creeping up behind him,
quietly kneeling, and both gripping his shoulder whilst pushing the entire
carrot up his arse, his puckered hole swallowing it like the slick mouth of
a snake - the carrot obviously hit SOMETHING, because he started squirting
his seed into the yellow custard. He quickly put the pot back on the stove,
and pulled up his trousers. I walked over and peered into the pot, seeing
the great big white deposit square in the middle of the yellow custard. A
quick stir with a spoon soon changed that, however. "What are you doing to
my custard?!" One the women was just walking through the door with a big
tray of plates.

"Just giving it a stir," I said, as I manoeuvred a still shell-shocked
Harry back to his chair.



The pudding of sponge and custard came out a few minutes later. Whilst
there was some criticism that the custard tasted salty, I thought the
addition made what was otherwise a very boring desert into something far
more exciting. I don't think the others would've seen it like that,
however, so I kept the extra ingredient to myself - I knew that Harry, the
young lad who's overworked bollocks had produced it, would be happy to keep
this particular secret. As well as various others. I smiled as I watched
everyone around the table, including Louis, Niall, Zayn, Liam and a
reluctant and VERY fidgety Harry, tuck in.