Date: Sat, 04 Dec 2004 05:02:46 -0500
From: Michael Marsh <bghrdpcs@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Guardian: Part 3

As with the previous chapters, the following disclaimers/conditions apply:
This story is a fictitious account. Any relation to any persons, living or
dead, is purely coincidental. This story contains male-to-male sex between
consenting adults. If you are under the age of 18, or if it is illegal in
the area in which you live to read such materials, please continue no
further. This story is copyrighted by the author, and no portion of this
story may be copied, distributed or republished without the author's
express, written consent.

I have received some feedback on my story, and I greatly appreciate the
compliments. I hope that you all enjoy this next chapter, as well as the
chapters to come.

==========================================================================
"As the guardian of the innocent, banish this evil from my sight!" Those
words echoed in his mind as he stirred himself awake. He had been recovering
for the better part of two days. He wondered if his foe knew just how
powerful and effective his attack had been. He barely got away in time, and
he was far too weak to teleport himself all the back to the dark side of the
moon. Fortunately, he had those on his side to rescue him. They found him on
top of a garbage barge of all things, being picked and pecked at by all
sorts of vulturous animals.

So, who was this new guardian? And how did he become so powerful? Did he
know just how powerful he was? These questions unsettled him as he walked
through his room in the darkness, his velvet robe sweeping the floor as he
crossed to the window, staring out into the sky. He had been locked away for
a long time, and it took him all of his resources and creativity to be able
to forge his escape. This new guardian posed a serious threat. Just who was
he, anyway? He had only been imprisoned for a few centuries. Was it possible
the worlds had changed so drastically while he was gone?

He paused in his thoughts. He felt a slight psychic probe. Someone was
searching the astral plane for him. He decided to "listen in" on who this
anonymous searcher was. This person wasn't a very skilled psychic, he
detected. They haven't practiced the art of honing. This person was
expending way too much energy, he could tell. It seemed as if this seeker
had searched nearly every mind in the realm, looking for his specific
signature. This seeker was definitely getting close to his target, but he
could tell that they were also getting fatigued. They were working hard, not
smart. He put up a psychic shield and chuckled to himself. By the time this
mystery detective broke through the shield to track him, he or she would
have exhausted themselves in the process and would be easy to destroy... or
convert. He laughed out loud at the thought.

Of all his cosmic gifts, he considered his telepathy to be the strongest.
Even when he was banished to this darkened hell on the other side of the
moon, his mind was still his strongest asset. They couldn't fully strip
those powers away from him; his were too strong. They could only call on the
shadows of the moon to bind his mind. In time, he found a way to break the
bind, and he could feel his mental powers grow. As time passed, he learned
to manipulate the will of those around him, even though his powers were not
as strong as they once had been. Soon enough, he had enough people
psychically connected to him and to his will that he was able to force a
small rebellion and an escape.

Now, the edifice that was once his prison was now his fortress. He was
slowly building an army. His ancient powers had all but returned to him. The
spirit of the moon had grown alert to both his escape and to his plans, and
it was she, no doubt, who alerted the goddess. And it was the goddess who
called upon that insufferable guardian of hers. The guardian was the one to
worry about. It was the guardian that nearly killed him.

But what about the boy?

The boy was an unusual source of energy and power. At the height of the
boy's orgasm, he possessed as much energy as maybe ten human men. Perhaps
the boy could be used in the future. Having failed at killing him once, the
boy earned the right to life. He would not attack the boy again. But, maybe,
just maybe, that boy could be used...

He laughed to himself as he began to dress. He was strong again, but he was
hungry, too. It was time to return to earth. There was work to be done.

===============

"Isn't this bar to die for?" Bill asked his friend, Patrick. Bill and
Patrick were miles away from campus, and miles away from their other
teammates. The two of them looked like quite the odd couple. Bill, the place
kicker for the team, stood at about 5'6" tall. He was very petite with
slight shoulders and an even tinier waist. His legs were long, though, and
like most kickers, he was flexible. Bill was also on the college's swim
team, so his body was definitely toned in all the right places. He was
wearing a solid navy blue Gap shirt, a shirt which stopped right at the top
of his belt line. Bill always wore his shirts short or tucked in, to make
sure that his prize assets -- if you pardon the pun -- could be prominently
seen in the back of his perennially tight jeans.

Patrick, on the other hand, towered over Bill at 6'4". He was the team's
tight end, and his 245 lb. frame was all muscle. Patrick had curly
auburn/chestnut colored hair, and his normally golden complexion had a
slight reddish tint to it tonight, the result of just a little too much time
in the tanning salon. Patrick was dressed in a form-fitting black Gucci
sweater, wearing a pair of slate-colored Kenneth Cole slacks over his
Kenneth Cole shoes. His 3/4-length leather jacket also fit him to a tee. He
and Bill stood at the bar, watching men come and go. The bar was
underground; the entrance to the bar was street level, but the bar itself
was three flights of stairs below. It was a very small, very intimate
setting, but tonight it seemed as if all the men in town were crammed into
this local hot spot.

"It's a good thing my dad isn't here," Patrick said. Patrick's father was
the Fire Chief of Patrick's hometown, and it was assumed that Patrick would
join his dad on the squad as soon as he finished college. He had yet to tell
his father that he wanted to pursue other things. He was fortunate enough to
get a full ride to the university he was attending -- the joys of being an
All-American athlete -- but he knew that he didn't want to go pro. His
father would accept him not being a firefighter if he turned pro. But not
turning pro and not being the fifth generation of firefighting Smith men
would just be unacceptable.

"If your father were here, Pat, the fire code violations would be the least
of his -- and your -- concerns," Bill said, elbowing his massive friend in
the ribs.

"I know, he would probably beat my ass right were I stood," Patrick said,
taking an uncomfortable sip from his beer. Suddenly, he felt the need to get
very drunk, very fast. Thinking about disappointing your father because you
don't want to be a pro football player or a fireman was one thing. Having
your father find out that you're "one of those fairies" was another.

"Hey, Pat, we're out here tonight to have fun, remember? We drove fifty
miles away from campus to get away from prying eyes and whispers. We drove
away from campus to let loose, forget, stop pretending and just be ourselves
for a while, remember? So, let's leave your daddy back at home with the rest
of all your problems. We'll tackle those -- and the other guys on the field
-- some other time. Right now, I need to get me some ass!!"

"You mean give UP your ass, don't you?" Patrick teased.

"Fuck you, bitch," Bill chortled, punching Pat in the chest. Even though
Patrick was twice his size, Bill wasn't afraid of him, or anyone else for
that matter. Growing up in an abusive, violent neighborhood taught him how
to fend for himself. Being the runt of the four boys didn't help matters
much, either. He had to be a fighter, and he'd been fighting all his life.
Still, he had the most indomitable spirit of anyone, and he never let his
hard life get him down. In fact, most people didn't know of all the
hardships Bill faced growing up. He never let on that he was poor, that his
dad died when he was 3, that his mom never remarried or dated anyone since
his dad died, that his oldest brother was killed working a late-night job to
help his mom make ends meet -- no one knew any of these things about Bill.
Except Patrick.

Bill and Patrick made an unlikely duo, not only because of their difference
in stature, but also because of their different backgrounds. Patrick was the
hometown hero of a small New England town; Bill was the city kid who grew up
tough and had a knack for kicking a ball through the uprights. Most football
teams seldom give their kickers any respect in the first place -- for
starters, the kickers are usually the smallest of the team are seldom
considered to be "real athletes". After all, their only job is to come in
and kick a ball off a tee; how hard could that be?

In fact, Bill and Patrick probably would have never hit it off if Bill
didn't catch Patrick one day after practice jacking off in the locker room
to a gay magazine. It was customary for Patrick to wait for everyone to
leave the showers before taking his. He would stretch and cool down first,
and then he would relax in the hot tub before heading to the showers. He was
usually the last person to leave, and as a result, he usually had the hot
tub, the showers, and the entire locker room all to himself.

One particular day Patrick had a magazine with him that he found in the
Campus Center. He was sitting off in the corner of the Rec room, watching TV
while waiting for practice to start, and he noticed a plastic bag next to
the side of his chair. When he looked in the bag he saw two VHS tapes and a
magazine. On the cover of the magazine, he saw a naked muscular man stroking
his very hard cock. Patrick didn't have time to run it back to his apartment
on the other side of campus, so he stuffed the bag inside his duffel bag and
headed off to practice.

Once practice was over, Patrick decided to take the magazine into the hot
tub with him. Since he was sure that he was going to be all alone in the
locker room, he figured he'd have something to fantasize upon while he
jacked himself off. Just as he was about to come, he felt someone tap him on
the shoulder.

"So, you like boys, huh?" the voice said. Patrick nearly had a heart attack;
he thought for sure one of his teammates had found him and was undoubtedly
going to out him to rest of the team, even the school. Immediately, Patrick
thought about his father and what his father would say -- or, worse, what
his father would do -- when word inevitably got back to him. His father was
a relatively even-tempered man, but there was one thing that was clear: he
didn't like gays. Everyone in his hometown knew of the only time Patrick Sr.
had ever lost his temper or became violent: a gay man made a pass at him at
the local bar, and Patrick's father beat the man into a coma. All he could
think about was his father doing the same thing to him. His life was over.

Stunned, he dropped the magazine into the water and whirled around, his
hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and anger. He was ready to fight
whomever this was. He had to make sure that his secret didn't come out to
anyone.

Patrick was about ready to take a swing when he noticed it was Bill, the
place kicker. He figured that he could easily intimidate Bill into silence
-- after all, he was twice Bill's size -- and so maybe the diplomatic
approach would work after all. Still, Bill had the upper hand here and
Patrick knew it, and you could never be too sure what someone else is going
to do. Deep in his heart, Patrick was scared shitless.

Bill had recoiled at the sight of Patrick's fighting stance and was equally
ready to fight. His quick mind was hard at work, trying to diffuse the
situation. "Hey, Pat, take it easy. It's cool, man. Calm down. I'm not going
to tell anyone. It's cool."

Patrick was already beginning to relax a little, but he was hesitant to
believe Bill. "How do I know that you're not gonna tell? How do I know
you're not just fucking with me?"

"Because, I like to fuck guys, too."

Bill's words caught Patrick off guard, and his mouth dropped open. He stood
there, staring at Bill, not sure what to do or to say next. Of all the
possible things he could say, Patrick chose to take the route of denial.

"Hey, I'm no fag. I don't like to fuck guys. I found that magazine," Patrick
squirmed through his half-lie. While he did find the magazine, he knew in
his heart that he was, indeed, a "fag". He had fooled around with a guy once
in high school on a weekend trip to Boston, and he had wanted to fuck a guy
ever since.

Bill didn't blink an eye. "I never called you a fag. There's no such thing
as faggots. But if you're jacking off to a gay magazine, you're definitely
not thinking about the ladies, if you know what I mean." He could see that
Patrick was still hesitant to believe him. He felt sorry for the guy. To see
someone so big and seemingly strong be so afraid... it was sad.

"Look, Pat, I swear, man, I'm not gonna tell anyone. No one else is here, so
no one knows. Although, you gotta admit, if you want to keep this closeted,
jacking off to a gay mag in the hot tub is not the best idea."

Bill could see Patrick was starting to break a little. In fact, it looked as
if Patrick was going to burst into tears at any moment. Bill felt an even
greater swell of pity for the mammoth tight end. He had come out to his
mother when he was a freshman in high school. She was shocked at first, and
she was even a little angry. But then his older brother was killed in a
robbery attempt the next month while working at a convenience store and that
changed everything. She said that she would rather accept him for who and
what he was and keep him and love him than lose another son. Their bond had
been unbreakable ever since. A few years later, Bill came out to his
remaining older brothers, and they took the news the same way their mother
had at first. The three of them settled things in the way that they always
did -- with a wrestling / sparring bout -- and by the end of the day, the
family was tighter than they ever had been before.

Now, Bill stood there looking at this man who had come from such a strong
and well-respected family, so unlike his own, and he saw that this kid who
had grown up with so much more than he ever had, didn't even have the
freedom to live his life the way that he wanted to. It broke Bill's heart.

"Hey, Pat, I mean it. I swear. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Besides, you can't
keep this all to yourself forever. There's gotta come a time when someone
has to know, right?" Bill put his hand on Pat's shoulder. Pat was no longer
looking Bill in the eyes; he was staring vacantly into the water. Bill could
tell that Patrick was struggling with whether or not Bill could be trusted
with the secret, and Bill was desperate to prove that he could be trusted.

"Pat, you've got to be yourself with at least one person in this world. I
swear on my father and my brother's graves, I will never tell anyone. You
gotta believe me." By now, Bill had kicked off his shoes and was standing on
the steps of the hot tub. He had both his hands on Pat's face, holding Pat's
strong jaws between his hands. He needed to prove to Patrick that he wasn't
a threat. He could tell that Patrick was close to breaking, close to
trusting him. All he needed was a little push...

Bill pulled Pat's face close to his, and kissed him. He felt Patrick kiss
him back. The kiss lasted for only a few moments, and then Bill pulled away.

"You can trust me, Pat. You can trust me." He saw Patrick heave a large
sigh, and then he fell to his knees. Patrick wrapped his strong arms around
Bill's tiny waist and buried his face into the belly of Bill's shirt. Bill
could hear Patrick's stifled sobs; he sensed that a great burden had finally
been lifted after years of suppression and denial.

"That's all right, big guy. You just cry. Let it all out. Let all the pain
out. It's gonna be okay from now on. You'll see."

Bill held Patrick for a few moments. Patrick finally pulled his face away,
wiping the tears from his eyes. "Thanks, Bill, I was just so scared when you
caught me... I didn't know what to do or what to think. I've been needing to
talk to someone for so long, but I just didn't know who I could trust.
There's just so much pressure on me to make all the right decisions, man. I
just can't take it. Between school, my career, my sexuality -- there's just
so much pressure. I feel like I don't even know who I am or what I want. And
I'm just so tired of being alone."

"Well, you're not alone anymore. Now, come on, let's get out of here before
someone else comes in and you relive your hell of a few minutes ago." Bill
stepped down from the hot tub and turned around as Patrick emerged from the
water. Patrick was the only one of Bill's teammates that he hadn't scoped
out yet. As he watched Patrick come out of the water, he immediately felt
his cock come to life. Patrick's body was magnificent: his pectorals were
large and firm, with two very large nipples. His abdomen was ripped;
Patrick's long and lean torso was sculpted with six impressive abs.
Patrick's waist was small, a contrast to his broad, muscular shoulders, huge
biceps and well-defined triceps. Patrick's thighs -- and that thing dangling
in between them -- were massive, and his quads were so clearly defined that
Bill could see the four major muscles contract and release as Patrick walked
toward him. Patrick's calves were equally thick and muscular, a nice finish
to Patrick's virile frame.

"So, now that you know my secret, now what?"

"Well, now we go back to your room and look at that magazine," Bill said,
massaging Patrick's dick and throwing him a flirtatious smile.

"Are you serious? You wanna fool around?"

"Not if you're going to say it like that, I don't. Come on, I haven't gotten
any, I know that you haven't gotten any, and you seemed like you were close
to finishing a moment ago, so why don't we finish what you've started?"

Patrick started to smile. It was true, he hadn't had any sex at all except
for the five-finger variety. He had been trying so hard to protect his
secret that he didn't even scope out any of his teammates. Part of the
reason he always showered last was because he didn't want to risk throwing
wood while he was showering with the other players. As he looked at Bill, he
figured that it wasn't going to be such a bad deal having someone else know
about him. He hadn't even noticed how cute Bill actually was. He had a nice,
tight body, too.

Bill reached into the hot tub and grabbed the magazine from the water.
"Well, I guess we can't really look at this one for a while; it's too wet.
But I'm sure we can think of something else to do. Come on, let's go back to
your apartment."

Within a half an hour, Patrick was showered and changed, and he and Bill
made their way across campus to the apartment complex on the other side.
These apartments were the newest addition to the campus, and only
upperclassmen were able to apply for consideration. Each apartment was like
a dorm itself, containing three individual bedrooms, two bathrooms, a
central living space, a kitchen, and a washing machine and dryer. Patrick
was fortunate that he had his own private space. Even though he had three
other guys living in the same apartment, his bedroom was at the opposite end
of the apartment from theirs, and his room was his own private domain.

Upon stepping into Patrick's room, Bill quickly kicked of his shoes and
jumped onto the bed. Within a few seconds, he had stripped down to only his
boxer-briefs.

"Hey, do you want to find out what's on these tapes? I think it might be gay
porn," Patrick said, pulling the two VHS tapes out of the bag and inserting
one into the TV/VCR.

"Nah, I don't really care about that right now. Even if it is gay porn, why
watch it when I can have my own right here?" Bill slid his way of Patrick's
bed and ran up behind him. He turned Patrick around and started pulling down
Patrick's jeans. In the next instant, Bill's hands slid Patrick's Under
Armor boxers down and he was sucking on Patrick's thick cock.

Patrick had to steady himself against the desk as he felt Bill bob up and
down on his meaty rod. He hadn't done anything with another guy since that
trip in high school, and this was more than he ever imagined could happen.
Just then, a little dash of paranoia crept in, and Patrick pulled Bill's
head away from his dick. He quickly walked over to the door of his bedroom
and locked it. He then went over to his stereo system and started blasting
music.

"What did you do that for?" Bill shouted over the volume.

"Just in case my roommates come in, I don't want them to hear me and another
guy having sex."

Bill shook his head. He could understand a guy wanting to be careful, but
this was too much. He went over to the radio and turned it off.

"Live a little dangerously, Pat," Bill said, walking back over to Patrick
and pushing him onto the bed. "That's half the fun in life. Nothing
ventured, nothing gained, you know. Now, where was I?" With that, Bill
bounded onto the bed. He grabbed Patrick's massive legs and threw them over
his shoulders. He started jacking off Patrick's thick eight-inch dick with
his right hand while he ran his left hand all over Patrick's chest and abs.

"You have an amazing body, do you know that, Pat? I mean, you're fucking
Herculean or something. I never got the chance to check you out before
'cause you never showered with the rest of the guys. I had always hoped to
get a piece of this ass, but I never thought that I would."

"Who said that you're going to get my ass?" Patrick asked, almost on the
defensive.

"Relax, bro, relax. All in good time." Bill lowered his head and took the
head of Patrick's dick into his mouth. Patrick's cock was already dripping
pre-cum and his breaths were coming in shorter and shorter spurts. Bill
could tell that Patrick was excited. He figured that it would just take a
little coaxing to be able to get a crack at that tight ass.

Bill started working Patrick's hefty dick deeper and deeper into his throat,
while gently massaging his heavy balls. Patrick's balls were perfect, Bill
thought, not too thick and not too heavy. They were just enough to fit in
his hand and play with. Once Bill had Patrick's thick dick all the way down
his throat, he started to hum gently as he sucked his lips tightly around
Patrick's dick. The effect was that of a human vibrator.

Patrick hadn't felt this good in a long time. He started bucking his hips
forward. "Oh, man, Bill, that's feel amazing. Oh, yeah, suck my dick. Suck
me off. Oh, fuck... take that cock all the way down your throat." Patrick
felt as if his chest were on fire. He never knew that a blowjob could be
this good. None of the girls he had been with had ever sucked him like Bill
was right now. He was in heaven.

Bill slowly worked his lips back to the head of Patrick's dick, and he began
swirling his tongue around the head and licking up and down the shaft. Bill
then took both of Patrick's balls into his mouth while he jacked off
Patrick's dick. While sucking on Patrick's balls and stroking his dick, Bill
started to circle one of his fingers around Patrick's hot ass hole.
Patrick's ass was slightly hairy, and Bill found it hot to play with the
hairs around Patrick's ass crack.

Bill stopped sucking on Patrick's balls and went back to sucking and jacking
off Patrick's huge dick. He started working his index finger around
Patrick's hole, slowly pushing his finger inside. Patrick started moaning
even louder at the invasion of his tight hole. Since Patrick didn't protest,
Bill started finger-fucking him with his index finger, while sucking and
jacking him off.

"Oh, man, Bill, that feels so good. Oh, your mouth feels so good on my dick.
Yeah, stick your finger up my ass. Fuck, that feels good, man."

Bill took that as encouragement to go a little further. He started sucking
on Patrick's hot ass, alternating between fucking him with his finger and
sticking his tongue deep into Patrick's wet hole. He could feel Patrick's
body start to tense up and he knew that Patrick was getting close.

"Come on, Pat, let me fuck you a little bit. You're gonna like it, I'm
sure."

"I don't know man. I've never been fucked by a guy before. I'm not sure I
would --"

Patrick couldn't even finish his sentence because Bill started sucking on
his dick again. Bill could taste Patrick's oozing pre-cum the more he
sucked. He kept working his finger around Patrick's ass, massaging his
prostate and caressing his balls at the same time. He inserted a second
finger into Patrick's ass, and really started fingering him hard. As he
heard Patrick moan louder and louder, he knew that Patrick was ready to get
fucked.

He stopped sucking on Patrick's dick and started eating his ass again. Pat
was holding Bill's head in place now, moaning and squirming about on the
bed. His body felt as if he were on fire, the pleasure was so intense. While
Bill ate Patrick's ass, he reached down on the side of his bed for his
jeans. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a condom. Without
Patrick noticing, Bill put the condom on. By now he was alternating between
fingering Patrick hard with two fingers and rimming Pat's hot ass.

"Oh, man, Bill! Fuck! Fuck that feels good! Yeah, jam those fingers up my
ass! Oh, fuck that feels so fucking good!" Patrick was a lot louder than he
intended to be, but he was lost in the moment right now. He couldn't care
less who heard him.

Bill took the opportunity to get into Patrick's hot ass. He slid up
Patrick's body as if to kiss him, holding Patrick's legs over his shoulder.
Without using his hands, Bill slid his six-and-a-half inch dick slowly into
Patrick's ass.

"Oh, man, Bill, that fucking hurts, man! I can't man! Ah, fuck that hurts!"

Bill ignored Patrick's cries and kissed him hard on the mouth. He started
jacking Patrick's dick off hard, while he started pumping slowly in and out
of Patrick's tight ass hole. He could feel Patrick involuntarily trying to
squeeze Bill's dick out of his ass, which created an incredible amount of
pressure of Bill's throbbing cock. It felt great.

"Relax, Pat, relax. You're gonna like it, trust me. Just like you liked my
fingers up your ass, you're gonna like this.  I'm gonna go slow at first.
Soon it'll start to feel good and you'll be begging me to give it to you
hard. Just try to relax. Don't try to push me out. Just breathe and relax.
You'll love it."

Patrick tried to do what Bill was saying, but it just hurt so fucking back.
He could feel Bill pushing deeper and deeper into his ass hole. He didn't
think that it would feel like this to get fucked. He always thought it would
feel... different.

Bill continued to push in slowly on Patrick's ass for a few minutes. Soon he
was in Patrick's ass all the way to the hilt. Patrick's ass was so tight it
felt amazing. Patrick stopped grunting and contorting his face, so Bill
assumed that it didn't hurt as much anymore. He started pushing in deeper
and harder.

Patrick didn't know when it happened, but suddenly the pain wasn't as
intense as it was at the start. He still felt the pressure of Bill's dick up
his ass, but now he just felt full. He could feel Bill hit a certain spot
inside him that made his own dick twitch. He was starting to go erect again.
Bill started to push in harder and harder, and Patrick was starting to like
it. The harder Bill's thrusts were, the better it felt.

"Fuck, that feels good. Oh, man, fuck my ass! Yeah, Bill, give it to me
hard!"

Per his request, Bill started slamming his dick into Patrick's ass hard. His
thrusts were so violent that the bed springs were squeaking and Patrick's
head was thumping against the wall. He could feel Patrick's hard dick
pressed against his stomach as he fucked him. Bill loved the sound of
fucking; he was turned on by the sound of his balls slapping against
Patrick's ass. He was slamming his dick into Patrick as hard and as fast as
he could. Patrick's eyes were rolled up in the back of his head, and he
couldn't even close his mouth. All he did was let out a chain of moans. He
didn't know getting his ass slammed could feel this good.

Bill and Patrick changed positions so that Bill was standing up while he
fucked Patrick, who was bent over the edge of his bed. Patrick was gripping
the sheets with his face buried in the pillow. Bill had one had on the back
of Patrick's neck, forcing his head down into the bed, and the other hand
was pressing Patrick's hips down and into place, while Bill pistoned his
tumid cock in and out of Patrick's erstwhile virgin ass. Patrick wasn't even
jacking himself off, but his stiff cock was smearing the sheets with his
pre-cum.

"Hey, Pat, turn over. I wanna fuck you on your back some more. I wanna see
your face as I fuck your ass raw." Patrick was more than happy to oblige as
he turned himself over without Bill's dick coming out of his ass. This was
quite the opposite of what Patrick expected to happen. He wouldn't have
thought that this small guy would be such an aggressive fucker. Patrick
definitely didn't think that he was going to be the one getting fucked
today, and after the way things had started, he certainly didn't think it
would feel this good.

Once Patrick was laying on his back again, Bill started fucking him hard and
fast again. He kept alternating strokes from long, slow and deep, to short,
quick and shallow. It was the short, quick jackrabbit strokes that Patrick
seemed to like the best. The feeling of Bill's dick deep in his ass, quickly
pounding away at his prostate, coupled with the sound of Bill's balls
slapping his ass rapidly, was all too much for him.

"Mmm... yeah," Patrick panted, "Oh... mmm... yeah... fuck me. Fuck me hard.
Oh... fuck yeah, Bill. Mmm... I'm coming! Oh, fuck, I'm coming! Ah! Fuck my
ass and make me cum! Oh, yeah!" Without touching his dick, Patrick started
to shoot rope after rope of his creamy, milky jizz. The first two shots were
shallow ones, splattering Patrick's bellybutton. The third and forth shots,
as Patrick's orgasm peaked and his shouts of ecstasy increased in volume,
arced high and splattered Patrick on the lips and on his neck. The last two
shots landed on Patrick's chest.

As Patrick kept quivering with the force of his orgasm, Bill kept up the
speed of his thrusts. Patrick's dick was still hard and Bill could feel
Pat's ass still squeezing his dick. Even though his teammate had come
already, Bill wasn't close yet. He kept on fucking Pat. Hard.

"Pat, I need to fuck you some more. I'm not close yet. I'm gonna keep
fucking you hard, baby. Fuck, your tight ass feels good!"

Patrick's dick didn't even go soft and he started to jack himself off some
more. He was still horny and was enjoying the feeling of getting his ass
slammed. Bill seemed to be built to fuck, and his dick was finding that spot
in Patrick's ass that was just driving him wild. The diminutive place kicker
seemed to have the sexual appetite of three men. He certainly had the
stamina to match.

Bill kept up his thrusts for another fifteen minutes. He alternated
positions again and started fucking Patrick from behind. Patrick was
steadily pulling on his dick -- he hadn't even wiped the cum off himself
from the first orgasm -- and he started to come a second time. His second
orgasm seemed as powerful as the first, and this time Patrick felt every
muscle in his body tense and he felt he was going to die from the intensity
of it all.

"Fuck, Bill, I'm fucking coming again!" Patrick panted as he started to
shoot his second load in twenty minutes. This one wasn't as large as the
first one, but in three shots Patrick made a considerable cum-stain on his
bed sheets.

Feeling Patrick's ass clamp down on his cock again was too much for Bill. He
pumped three more hard thrusts into Patrick's ass and then buried his cock
deep inside, shooting his cum into the condom. He felt his legs go weak and
he collapsed on top of Patrick, the two of them a heap of sweat and muscles
on the bed.

As his orgasm subsided, Bill grabbed the base of his dick and eased his dick
out of Patrick's ass, making sure that he kept his fingers around the ring
of the condom so that it didn't come off inside Patrick. He threw the
cum-filled condom into the garbage can next to the bed and collapsed on top
of Patrick again. The two of them fell soundly asleep within minutes.

That was how they became friends.
====================

Bill and Patrick stood in the middle of a swank gay bar, Patrick nursing a
beer, and Bill working on a Tequila Sunrise. Even though Patrick and Bill
fooled around a lot at first, in the months that followed, their
relationship grew and they became more of brothers and confidantes. Having
sex with each other just became awkward. So, Bill found a little gay
district in the next county, and this was a sweet little bar to frequent on
the weekend. They were both horny, and they were looking for a good hook-up.

He caught both their eyes at the same time.

He casually strolled into the bar. He was very poised, statuesque. He was at
least 6'4", and his body was long and lean. He was dressed in a jet black
Versace jacket and pant suit, paired with a silver shirt and silver
herringbone chain. He wore a floor-length overcoat and pristine Italian
leather shoes. He was definitely more sophisticated than the other men in
the bar.

He entered with a man and a woman in tow, the man a shorter 6'1", but much
stockier; the woman was striking at 5'11" with near platinum blonde hair and
piercing blue eyes. She was wearing tight Banana Republic khaki capri pants,
with brown knee-high stiletto leather boots. She wore a chocolate-colored
blouse with the first three buttons undone, revealing her black bra. On top
of it all, she wore a brown leather jacket. The other man was dressed in
urban wear, wearing an Enyce sweater-tee and blue Rocawear jeans over
camel-colored Timberland boots. He was just as striking as the woman. His
head was shaved, and his caramel-colored skin was offset by his grey eyes.
The trio walked in the room and crossed over to the bar. They were either
oblivious to the stares of all the men in the bar, or they were pretending
not to notice.

"I want the one in the overcoat!" Bill and Patrick said in tandem. They
looked at each other and began to laugh. They never quarreled over the same
guy; the rule was whoever called it first was the one that got to pursue. In
this case, they said it at the same time.

"Heads or tails?" Bill asked, pulling a quarter from his pocket.

"What?"

"Heads... or... tails?" Bill asked again, enunciating every word, as if he
were speaking to a small child.

"Oh, don't start that shit. Look, if you want him, you go and talk to him.
Besides, you're probably more his type than I am, anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Bill, I'm sure."

"You're sure that you're sure, right? Because if this is one of those things
where I'm supposed to say, 'No, you go take him', I'm not going to do that.
So, if you really want him, say so."

"Bill, go over there and talk to him before someone else does. Go!" Before
Patrick could even finish the sentence, Bill was already on his way to the
other side of the bar where the trio stood. Patrick laughed out loud as Bill
gently pushed someone out of the way. The man was irked; clearly he had been
on his way to talk to the same guy Bill was going to talk to. But before he
could really start to protest, Bill had already approached the stallion in
black.

"Excuse me, can I buy you guys a drink?" Bill asked the trio.

"Well, I don't know about my two friends here; they were just leaving. This
place is a little too crowded for them. But you're more than welcome to buy
me a drink." The man's voice was low and deep, almost melodic. Bill looked
into the taller man's eyes -- they were dark like opal, but they had a
certain sparkle, almost a glow to them. His skin was olive-toned; it seemed
as if he were from the Mediterranean. Perhaps he was Italian, or maybe even
Greek. The man's jet black hair was cut short, but it was neatly styled.
There was not a hair out of place on his head. Even his eyebrows and goatee
were perfectly maintained. He was absolutely stunning. Bill was enamored
with his chiseled good looks.

"So, Mr...?" Bill began.

"Damien. My name is Damien."

"Damien. That name seems to suit you. I'm Bill. So, Damien, where are you
from?"

"Not around here. As a matter of fact," Damien said, taking a sip from the
extra dry martini Bill bought him, "I don't think I'm from any place that
you've heard of."

"Well, that's not entirely possible. I mean, I could probably guess where
you are from."

"Really? Well, I doubt it. Most people try, but very few can guess where I'm
from. But I like to play games. This should be fun. How many guesses would
you like?"

"Well, I'll make just one guess. But, will you allow me to ask a few
questions?"

"How many is a few?"

"Oh, let's make it fun. Let's say, five questions? I'll bet that I can guess
where you're from after five questions."

"Sounds interesting. What's the wager, then, Bill?"

Bill smiled mischievously. "Hmm, well, let me think." He pretended to be
thinking hard on what an appropriate wager would be. He knew what he wanted
to ask, but he didn't want to be too forward too soon. He needed to test the
waters.

"Okay, well let me make it a little easier for you, Bill. I know what I want
if you should lose. And I'm not going to say anything stupid like you buying
me another drink. I know what I want and I go for it. Do you think you're up
to it?"

"Well, this is my idea. I'm not afraid of a little pressure, and I'm not
afraid to lose. So, if  -- and I stress the word 'if' -- if I should lose,
what you want, Damien?" Bill smiled to himself. He knew this guy was
flirting with him, and he was more than happy to play the game. He took
another sip from his Tequila Sunrise.

"You."

Bill nearly choked. There was something almost unnerving about how direct
Damien was with his response. He was looking Bill dead in the eye, and there
was no waiver in either his focus or his voice when he said it.

"Me?"

"Yes. You. If you can't guess where I'm from, I get you." Once again, no
waiver.

Bill chuckled nervously. This was tantalizing and unnerving all at the same
time. Bill was definitely aroused at the thought of Damien having him, but
there was something odd about how direct Damien was with his words.

"Okay, then, Damien, what should I get if I win?"

"That's for you to choose. I have made my choice if you lose. If you win,
what would you like?"

"Oh, I don't know. Let me think."

"You must have some idea. If you could have anything I could give you, what
would it be?"

"Well, that's a bit expansive, don't you think, Damien?"

"And what if I was? Look, Bill, life is short. You were very direct just a
minute ago by coming over here and asking to buy me a drink. Clearly you saw
something that you wanted and that prompted you to come over here. That was
a very ballsy thing to do, wouldn't you say? I mean, you assumed that I was
gay, for one, you assumed that I would be attracted to you, for two, and
then you assumed that I would welcome your company, for three. Those are
bold assumptions, and look how they have paid off. You've started to play
the game, why play the role of temerity now? If you win, what do you want?
My clothes? My jewelry? My body? What?"

Bill stared at Damien for a moment, trying to get a read on him. Was this
guy for real? This had gone beyond casual flirting. Damien was downright
aggressive. This could either be fun, or Bill could be in over his head. It
was a gamble that could have a big payoff or a big loss.

"Life's a gamble, my friend. Are you willing to play the game?" Damien
asked, as if he were picking the thoughts from Bill's mind.

Bill was never one to back down from a challenge. Damien had thrown down the
gauntlet, and he was daring Bill to cross it.

"All right, Damien," Bill said, that sly smile of his returning, "If I win,
I'll own you for the rest of the night. You'll buy me whatever I want,
you'll do whatever I want, when I want it, and how I want it. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Damien smiled, sipping his martini. "You have five questions. Ask
wisely."

"Is English your first language?"

"No."

"What languages do you speak?"

"I speak six languages: Spanish, French, English, Italian, German and
Russian. To be fair, I have a working knowledge of Japanese and Portuguese."

"Is that your natural complexion and hair color?"

Damien chuckled. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Is your country near a large body of water, like a sea or an ocean?"

"No."

"Hmm... I think I've got you narrowed down. The answer to this question
should let me know. I need to eliminate one of the continents from
contention. Are you from South America?"

"No, I am not. All right, Bill, you've asked your five questions. It's time
to show your hand: Where am I from?"

"The only way that you would know that many languages is if you were from
someplace where running into a different language on a daily basis was
commonplace. The only places like that in the world are in Africa, Asia,
Europe and South America. I'm assuming that you are neither of African or
Asian decent, and you have just said that you are not from South America.
That leaves Europe. Given your skin tone, that would lead me to believe you
were from Southern Europe, perhaps near the Mediterranean sea. I would guess
Sardinia, but that would really isolate you from the rest of Europe. I
wouldn't guess anywhere in the Croatia/Yugoslavia region, because you didn't
list any slavic languages. That also leaves Greece and Turkey out of play. I
would say Italy, but you said that your country isn't near any large body of
water. That also eliminates Spain, France and Germany, too. You don't look
like you'd be from the Ukraine, so my best guess is that you are from
Belgium. Given your complexion, however, I would still guess that your
parents were not Belgian decent, but rather that Belgium was merely the
place where you were born. Am I right?"

"That is a very well-thought guess, and off only five questions, too. I am
very impressed. But, I am not from Belgium. If I were, I would have listed
Dutch as one of my languages spoken, as it is the official language of
Belgium. But, still, that is most impressive deduction. Yet, you lose.
You're mine."

"Well, are you going to tell me where you're from?"

Damien smiled. "No. I am not."

"Oh, come on, where's the fun in that? I should at least get to know how far
off I was."

"To be honest, Bill, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. But, perhaps I
shall tell you before the night is over. Now, about collecting on this
bet..."

"Yes, yes, I'm yours. Do with me as you will. Just let me go and tell my
buddy over there about me losing this bet. I've got to be back on campus by
tomorrow. I've got football practice."

"You play football, Bill? That's surprising.  You don't strike me as a
football player."

"I'm the place kicker."

"Ah. I see. I don't get into sports that much, so it's all the same to me.
You just didn't seem to fit the mold of stereotypical football jock."

"Yeah, if I had a dime for every time I heard that..."

"You would be a wealthy man?"

"Not if I was dumb enough to only collect dimes every time I heard that,"
Bill said, laughing. Damien smiled graciously.

"Well, Bill, run off and tell your friend that you'll be back in an hour or
two. You're coming with me. Are you up to it?"

Bill looked Damien up and down and imagined what this stud looked like
naked. He knew that Damien was going to fuck him, and he hoped that Damien
had a horse cock to fuck him hard with. He ran over to Patrick to tell him
that he was going to leave for a bit.

"Well, that didn't take long at all," Patrick teased. "What did you do, say,
'Hi. I'm Bill. Wanna fuck?'"

"No, I didn't, you ass. Actually, I thought it was going to take a lot more
work than it did. He's actually kind of aggressive. I just lost a bet. He
says I'm his for the next hour or two. I can only imagine what that
entails."

Patrick glanced down at Bill's blue jeans, and saw that his cock was already
hard.

"Yeah, I'll bet you can," Patrick said, grabbing Bill's hard dick. "Go get
'em, tiger."

With that, Bill made his way across the bar again to where Damien was
standing. Patrick saw Bill gesture his way while talking to Damien, and then
he saw Damien look at his watch. Damien nodded and said something to Bill,
and then he threw some money on the counter. Patrick saw Bill say something
in protest, but Damien held up his hand, obviously not heeding Bill's
objections. Damien threw his arm around Bill's shoulder and led Bill through
the crowd toward the exit. As Damien and Bill made their way toward the
door, Damien turned to Patrick suddenly and smiled. Patrick jumped a little
and felt a chill run down his spine.

He could've sworn he saw Damien's eyes glow.