Date: Sun, 30 Aug 2009 19:01:37 -0400
From: stories@nc.rr.com
Subject: Brian's Visit 1

Brian's visit - version 2.0.0 (June-August 2009)
(NC-reluctant, auth, cum denial, humil, feet, extensive drug use, unsafe-sex)

stories@nc.rr.com

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of FICTION - any similarity to
actual people or events is entirely coincidental.  It contains adult
subject matter and should not be read by any minor, person who would find
such material offensive, or if it is illegal in your area.  If you meet
these conditions, please delete this file from your computer.  This work is
not to be reproduced in any manner without prior approval from the author.

SPOILER ALERT: If you read the original version of this story, you might be
interested in the changes I've made.  If you'd like to read them, scroll to
the end.  If you'd rather be surprised, wait `til you're finished.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Brian's Visit" was my first story on Nifty, originally
posted seven years ago.  Though this version keeps the same plot and
characters, I've made widespread corrections to grammar and text to make
reading easier, such as fixing my bad habit of putting dialogue and
narration in the same paragraph and my apparent inability to use
contractions.  Additionally, Brian's character has been fleshed out a bit
and the last chapter contains new information revealing his motivation for
the events chronicled in this story.  If you were a fan of the original,
don't worry, nothing fundamental to the design changed, but this one should
be easier on the eyes.

Thanks for all your support!


CHAPTER ONE -- BRIAN'S ARRIVAL

	It had been a long week, each day more mind-numbing than the last.
As a computer support technician, for every problem I solved, ten more
seemed to be waiting.  Desperately in need of a break, I was looking
forward to the extended Memorial Day weekend, more than ever since my
roommate from college was moving back to town.  Until Brian could get
settled and find an apartment, I'd agreed to let him stay at my house.
Having graduated just three years ago, my career was on track and I'd done
pretty well.  Using a loan from my parents as a down payment, I'd purchased
a nice house on the outskirts of town.  Despite my good fortune, I wasn't
happy and despised living alone.  I did the exact same things every day,
usually in the same order; get up, go to work, drive home, work out, watch
television, jerk off, and go to bed.  It was time for a change; that much
was clear.  With Brian stepping back into the picture, maybe I could learn
to enjoy life again.

	And Brian knew how to have fun, maybe too much fun.  He'd recently
been fired and had always been a pothead; during college we both were, but
I wasn't the type to go looking for a supply.  I'd smoke when it was
available, but once I ran out, that was it until I was lucky enough to get
hooked up again.  Brian, on the other hand, always had an ample stash.  In
fact, we were habitually high during our junior and senior years, sometimes
even heading to class that way.  As best friends and roommates, we spent so
much time together our friends joked that we'd started to look alike.  Each
around 5'11", Brian was about ten pounds heavier but the difference was all
muscle.  I'd never been able to build mass as easily as him.  We were both
blonde, mine slightly darker, and wore it buzzed since it made it easier to
roll out of bed in the morning and just get on with the day.  I hadn't seen
him in nearly three years and wondered what he looked like now, if he'd
changed much.  I hoped not.  I really needed to have a good time this
weekend.

	I took Friday afternoon off, going home early to work out.  Looking
back, I don't know why that seemed so important, for him to see me looking
my best.  Maybe it was because he was more built than I'd ever be or maybe
I just didn't want him thinking that my job had completely sucked the life
out of me.

	Stripping down in front of the mirror, I reviewed my body, picking
out the parts I liked and the areas that needed further work.  My legs were
coming along well, but were still runner's legs, defined but not cut.  My
chest and arms were gaining definition but would never be as nice as
Brian's.  My abdominals were my best feature.  I'd never had a problem with
weight and since I'd been focusing on them, they were really ripped,
forming a nice, six-pack washboard.  Nodding in approval, I slipped into my
thin onionskin shorts and began today's workout.

	About an hour later, just as I was finishing the last set, the
doorbell rang.  It was only 4:00 PM and Brian wasn't due until six, but as
I peeked through the blinds, I saw a cab in my driveway and Brian standing
on the porch.  Running down the hall, I opened the door to greet my guest.

	"Ricky!  Damn man, I must have interrupted something," he said
while looking me up and down.  Since I tend to sweat profusely during
workouts, my shorts were clinging to me like a second skin.  My cock was
clearly visible through the thin, wet material.

	"SHIT!  Sorry about that," I apologized while adjusting myself.  "I
wasn't expecting you this early and was trying to squeeze in a workout..."

	He wasn't listening though.  As soon as I started to speak, he
turned and waved to the driver that it was OK to leave.  Apparently, he
wasn't sure I'd be home yet and didn't want to be stuck waiting on my front
porch if I was still at work.  As he turned toward me again, I regained
enough composure to look at him.  His hair was as short as I'd ever seen,
almost shaven, with only a slight layer of blonde fuzz covering his head.
He was wearing a tank top and cut-off shorts with a pair of worn flip-flops
covering his large feet.  I found myself a bit envious of his form; the
bastard was still in fantastic shape.  Even after just completing a
workout, my body still didn't look that well-defined.

	"Don't worry about it," he said, dismissing the obscene condition
of my shorts.  "I'm glad to see you still train.  It's been a long time,
man!  I'm looking forward to having some fun this weekend."

	I invited him inside, noticing his smell when he bent to pick up
his bags.  Granted, it was hot today and he'd been traveling, but he
smelled like he hadn't showered in days.  Of course, I couldn't really
talk; the workout had built up a ripe funk on me as well.  Forgetting my
embarrassment, we moved to the living room to catch up.  He told me about
losing his job following a random drug test and how he'd not been able to
find another quickly enough to keep his apartment.  I interrupted him
briefly and asked if he wanted a beer.

	"Hell yes!  It's been a long damn day."

	When I returned with his drink, Brian was resting his arms over the
back of the sofa, having already slipped his feet from his flips.  Relaxing
in my favorite chair, I already felt better about life.  This was nice;
kicking back and having a beer with a buddy, just being at ease with each
other.  It almost seemed like we were still in college, neither of us
needing to impress the other, unconcerned with how we smelled or what we
were wearing.

	"So you were saying you got busted?" I prompted, wanting to hear
more of his story.

	"Not by the law or anything," he corrected.  "...just lost my job.
You remember, man.  I never could turn down weed."

	I laughed out loud.  Shit, did I remember!

	"I don't think I've had any since graduation," I noted.  "My life
really got boring after college."

	"Looks like you're doing OK.  I mean, the house is nice."

	"...Yeah?  Let me show you around."

	We stood with our drinks and, after adjusting my shorts so my cock
wasn't quite as obvious, I gave him a short tour of my house before leading
him out to the deck.

	"It's a pretty cool place to live," I continued.  "I had to get a
place out here in the woods `cause I couldn't afford anything closer to the
city.  The nearest neighbor is almost a mile away.  There's a lake down
that path in the woods.  It's quiet too, sometimes too damn quiet..."

	We sat on the deck, catching up and filling in the details of our
lives from the past three years.  I got the impression Brian was
distracted, as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn't figure out
how to get the ball rolling, an usual problem for him to say the least.  I
dismissed this gut feeling almost immediately, assuming I was simply
projecting my problems onto him and knowing that if he had something to
say, he'd get around to it eventually.

	We continued to relax and talk, enjoying the early evening air,
until he mentioned he was hungry.  I quickly offered to order a pizza.

	"You mean they deliver out here in hillbilly country?" he teased.

	I chuckled with him, knowing it was just a joke.  And honestly, it
felt refreshing to have someone to share a laugh.  We went inside and I
called in a pizza while he rummaged through his bags.  When I got off the
phone, he stood and looked at me.

	"Since I had to take the bus, I've been on the road a few days.
All the clothes in my bags are dirty.  Do you have a washer and dryer?"

	"Yeah, they're behind the folding doors at the end of the hall.  Do
you need something to wear?"

	"Nah, that's OK.  I've got one clean pair of boxers left."

	I watched him walk barefoot down my hallway, smelling the sweat he
left in his wake.  Part of me wanted to suggest he take a shower.  But then
again, when we were in college, we frequently sat around in our underwear
(or even less).  And since we used to be workout partners, it wasn't like
we'd never smelled each other's funk.  Besides, if he cleaned up, I'd
probably end up showering too and this carefree feeling was nice, a welcome
change from being perfectly scrubbed for work.

	Minutes later, the washing machine kicked on.  When Brian emerged
from the laundry, he was wearing plain white boxers, the same type he'd
always preferred.  It wasn't until he stepped back into the living room
that I noticed how old and threadbare they were.  He plopped down on the
sofa and asked for a second beer.  After returning with one for each of us,
I sat across from him and noticed that the crotch of his boxers was
practically gone.  Several little tears ran along the side of his bulge and
his sitting position was causing the fly to gape open, giving me an
effortless view of his bush.  I'd seen his body before; in college we saw
each other naked all the time.  Somehow though, this just felt different,
odd, and a bit uncomfortable.  Had I changed that much since college?  Had
work so drained me of spontaneity that I couldn't even relax with a friend?
As Brian extended his arms upward and stretched, I stared at his chest for
a moment as it flexed, my eyes moving to the thick bushes growing from his
pits, partially the source of his smell.  When he arched his back, we both
heard the sound of fabric ripping.  Looking quickly down to his crotch, we
laughed once we realized that one of the small holes had widened, exposing
his left nut.

	"Fuck man!  How old are those things?" I asked through my chuckles.

	"I don't remember.  They're pretty far gone, aren't they?"

	"Yeah, I'll say.  You want something else to wear?  I got plenty of
things that would fit you."

	I couldn't believe I'd just said that.  I was sounding more and
more like a prude every minute.

	"It doesn't bother me," he answered casually.  "...unless it's
bothering you.  Besides, it's not like you got a lot covering your stuff
either."

	Glancing at my crotch, I noticed my onionskin shorts.  Though
completely dry by now, they'd bunched up tightly around my groin, exposing
the curly hairs of my scrotum.  Laughing together, I managed to relax.
Brian always seemed to know how to calm me down when I was beginning to get
too uptight.

	We sat for a while longer, waiting for the pizza and making small
talk, before Brian grabbed his backpack from the floor, casually reached
inside and pulled out his bong.  I couldn't believe he still had the same
one we used in college.  There were a lot of good memories associated with
that pipe.  He went to kitchen, continuing to talk as he put some water in
it, and returned to pack a bowl.  He took a deep hit, holding it as he
passed the pipe.  I hadn't smoked in a while and was more than ready.  That
first hit had some bite to it, causing me to cough a little, and I knew
immediately this was some awesome green.  After finishing the first bowl,
Brian was in the process of packing another when the doorbell rang.

	"Pizza's here!" I shouted, jumping from my chair to find my wallet.

	"I got this one," he offered.  "Consider it a `thank you' for
letting me crash here."

	Returning to my seat, I hid the bong under the coffee table, out of
sight.  Not like it mattered, the entire living room was filled with smoke
and the sweet smell of pot was flooding the place.  Brian brazenly walked
to the door wearing nothing more than his worn boxers, answering it before
I could suggest he cover up.  The pizza guy stared at him for a moment with
a shocked look on his face before breaking into a wide grin.

	"Smells like a party in there," he observed.

	"Yeah," Brian agreed.  "Nothing gets you hungry like weed."

	"Lucky bastards!" he said with a smile.  "Wish I was doing that
instead of delivering pizzas..."

	"Come in and have a hit," Brian offered.  "You can consider it part
of your tip!"

	I couldn't believe my ears!  He'd just invited a total stranger
inside to smoke weed.  The guy shuffled into the room, said "hello" to me,
and introduced himself as Tim.  Brian pulled the bong from under the coffee
table and passed it to our new guest.  Tim sat beside Brian on the sofa,
took a long, deep draw from the especially potent grass, and stretched back
as he held it for full effect.

	An attractive guy, Tim was probably in his early twenties.  He had
long, black hair that fell to his shoulders and was thin, slimmer than
either of us, but it suited him.  While he stretched, I looked down at his
filthy sneakers.  Damn, did they look old!  They were worn through in
several places, revealing his grungy, off-white athletic socks through the
holes.  Tim returned the bong to Brian, thanked us for the hit, and stood
to leave.  After Brian paid him, he surprised me by asking the guy if he
wanted to swing by after work.

	Almost as an afterthought, Brian asked me if that was OK, as if I
could say no after the invitation was already out there.  In fact, I'd been
looking forward to spending the night alone with Brian, catching up on old
times and reliving old memories.  I hadn't wanted a party, but what could I
do?

	"Sure, I guess that'd be cool," I reluctantly consented.  "What
time do you get off?"

	"Not until midnight," Tim answered.  "...is that too late?"

	Actually, that was too late, for me anyway.  I'd fallen into the
habit of going to bed early.  Given how exhausting my week had been, I was
already tired.  I surely didn't want to be entertaining guests after
midnight.  Then I reminded myself that this was what I wanted, to break out
of the tedious rut in which I was mired.  I had known Brian wouldn't let
things get boring during his visit, but this was still unexpected.

	Brian never gave me a chance to answer Tim's question.  Instead, he
just slapped Tim on the back and walked him to the door, telling him we'd
be here, adding that we'd be stoned off our asses, but we'd be here.

	After he left, I almost said something to Brian about inviting
strangers into my house, but decided to let it slide.  We sat in the living
room and ate our pizza, tossing back more beer and doing bong hits for
about an hour before moving outside to the deck.  By now, we were both
pretty much wasted and I was more relaxed than I'd been in a long time.
The sun was just now beginning to set and the air felt great outside.

	Instead of sitting down right away, Brian walked to the edge of the
deck, pulled out his dick, and started pissing over the side.  I felt
conflicted once more, the various parts of me battling to determine my
reaction.  Two or three years ago, I'd have just started laughing or simply
ignored him, but now I felt this was inappropriate behavior.  While I was
still thinking, Brian stuffed his dick back inside his worn boxers and took
a seat on the deck chair beside me.

	"Dude, you seem uptight," he noted.  "Is everything ok?"

	Smoking pot had slowed my responses, causing it to seem like an
eternity before I turned my head.  Once I did, I noticed that the last few
drops of his piss had leaked from his penis, staining the thin, white
material and making it practically see-through.  My mouth felt parched and
I took a sip from my beer, trying to tear my eyes from his crotch long
enough to answer the question.

	"I've just lived alone for too long," I finally responded.

	He shifted in his seat as if he was struggling to pay attention (he
most likely was after all the pot we'd smoked).  As he did, his prick moved
in his shorts, falling down the side with the rips, allowing me to sneak a
peek at the skin-covered head.  I had to snap out of this!  Why was I still
looking?  By our senior year, Brian and I had seen each other naked
hundreds of times.  On more than one occasion, we'd even jerked-off
together, usually after getting stoned or drunk, but I couldn't remember
ever being this fascinated with his dick.

	"Well, I'm here now," he said with an encouraging pat on my
shoulder.  "If you're looking to get outta your rut, then I'm your man!"

	"I think that's what I need.  Living alone has really impaired my
social skills," I replied with a laugh.  "Hey, I need a cigarette.  You
want another beer while I'm up?"

	"Sure," he answered.  "...hey, my cigs are in my backpack.  You
mind bringing `em out on your way back?"

	Standing on shaky legs, I felt proud that I'd gotten through that
tense situation without raising suspicions over my awkward, baffling stare.
I then reminded myself of how paranoid I get when I smoke weed.  Since this
stuff was powerful and I was stoning big time, perhaps the whole thing was
just in my mind.

	After grabbing my smokes from the counter and a few extra beers, I
opened Brian's backpack to hunt for his cigarettes.  A wide grin spread
across my face when I discovered a stack of pornography tucked away in the
bottom.  I didn't see much and wasn't about to go through his stuff, but I
saw enough to realize his tastes had changed.  The cover of the top
magazine had been ripped, leaving the image only partially visible.  The
intact portion displayed an angry-looking man with ropes, apparently in the
process of tying up someone.  Unfortunately, that someone was missing since
that's where the cover had been torn.  Whoever she was, I certainly didn't
envy her.

	I grabbed his cigarettes and took everything outside.  When Brian
reached for his beer, he accidentally tipped it over, spilling it into his
lap, causing him to leap from his chair as if he'd seen a snake.  When my
pot-lazy eyes at last focused, I nearly choked on my beer.  His threadbare
boxers were totally soaked and the fabric might as well have been plastic
wrap.  While he laughed feverishly, my eyes zeroed in on his cock.  I'd
never noticed the massive vein running along his shaft, winding up from
underneath and changing directions abruptly just behind the skin-covered
rim of the head before meandering back into the bush of thick, dark blonde
pubes.  Each time he laughed, his enormous balls bounced vigorously in
response to the motion.  Even soft, this cock was simply spectacular,
worthy of a porn star.  Awestruck, I knew I needed to do something before
he noticed me looking.  Forcing my eyes to break the lock they'd made on
his crotch, I finally began to laugh.

	Hopefully, I could play off this latest indiscretion as well.

	"SHIT!  You're completely soaked," I said.  "Let me get something
else for you to wear."

	"No need bro...I'll just free-ball it."

	His fingers reached for the waistband of his wet shorts and started
to pull them down.  Just before exposing his cock, he paused and looked at
me.

	"...unless that's gonna bother you."

	There it was - decision time.  The bastard was gonna get naked in
front of me.  Worse, I was being asked to consent to it.

	"What the hell," I responded.  "Nobody's gonna see..."

	He slid the smelly, beer-soaked boxers down to the wooden deck and
pulled his dirty feet through the openings.  When he stood up, he playfully
twirled the drenched shorts around on his index finger, like some kind of
stripper.  He was obviously feeling no pain.

	Though I was enjoying the little show Brian was putting on, I still
felt uncomfortable.  After all the working out I'd done lately, it was nice
to look at another guy's body, for comparison purposes of course.  I'd
recently started to record my workouts to watch them later and evaluate my
progress.  Sometimes those videos made me horny and I'd end up masturbating
as I watched.  A similar sense of arousal overcame me now.

	There Brian stood, with his faultless body, a body he rarely worked
on anymore, still looking better than I ever would.  I stared openly at his
well-proportioned arms and chest as he twirled his sloppy shorts around,
his narrow, defined waist grinding at the hips.  Brian's prick was still
soft and flopped up and down as he playfully gyrated.  I watched his
muscular thighs and calves, and then moved my eyes farther down, to his
large, strong feet and perfectly formed toes.  The bastard looked like a
Greek statue and didn't even know it.

	He noticed my preoccupation and abruptly stopped his dance.

	"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked.

	"I don't know, man," I sluggishly responded.  "Maybe I'm just
tired, maybe it's the pot.  It's been a long time since I've had any.  I
don't know..."

	"Yeah, you do.  You're just not telling me.  Come on, dude.  Spill
it.  What's going on?"

	He was looking down at me now, almost glaring, while moving back to
his chair.  Though he was still completely naked, he appeared serious about
having this conversation.  I decided to just talk to him.

	"It's just that I never do anything spontaneous anymore.  I have
the most boring, regular schedule you could imagine.  The scary part is,
now that you're here, I thought I could kick back and act like I did in
college, you know, have some fun.  But I can't seem to relax enough to do
it.  You said I looked uptight before.  Well, you're right; I am uptight.
Even with the pot, even though I'm seriously stoned right now, I'm still
thinking about how things are gonna look, whether or not we should be
acting like this."

	"I can put on some clothes if you want," he offered.  "Does it
bother you that I'm naked?"

	"Yes and no.  I mean, it doesn't bother me like I think it's wrong
or anything..."

	"Then what is it?" he insisted.

	"I don't know..."

	"Are you afraid you'll get turned on?" he asked with a chuckle.

	"No," I said flatly, glaring at him over the rim of my beer.

	"Stand up and take your shorts off..."

	"Hell, no," I objected.  "...I'm not gonna sit out here naked."

	Truth be told, I often came out on the deck without any clothes on.
No one would ever see me this far off the main road and I had no close
neighbors.  There wasn't anything to worry about.

	"Oh come on," he continued.  "You said you didn't like who you've
become.  Then just decide you're gonna change.  Make a choice, dude.  Do
something wild.  Have another beer.  Smoke some more green.  Sit out here
with your old buddy naked.  It's not like I can't see through your flimsy
shorts anyway."

	He was right.  I didn't need to be this uptight.  I could try to
relax and enjoy being with my best friend, just like when we were
roommates.  I stood, shucked off my shorts, and took another swig of beer.

	"Happy?" I replied sarcastically.

	"Are you?"

	"...Bastard!"

	He started laughing again.  Every time we argued in college, I'd
end up calling him a bastard, especially when I was losing, and he reminded
me of that fact.  The conversation lightened up after I lost the shorts and
we continued to toss back beer after beer, emptying the bong more than
once.  A few times, we stopped talking altogether and just sat there,
looking past the deck to the trees and feeling the air on our naked bodies.

	I couldn't keep my eyes off him.  His entire body, from his nearly
shaved head to his massive, dirty feet, fascinated me.

	It was during one of our quiet moments that I once again caught
myself staring at his package.  He was sitting next to me with his feet
propped up on the railing, as relaxed as he could get without passing out.
Then he lowered the foot closest to me, placing it on the deck, effectively
spreading his legs since the other foot remained perched on the rail.  A
gentle breeze caught the smell of his crotch and blew it past my face.  I
instinctively breathed it in, not caring anymore that it wasn't the kind of
thing I'd normally do.  His limp cock was surrounded by a nest of soft,
dirty-blonde pubes, lying over his nuts, and his foreskin was hanging well
beyond the head of his dick.

	As I continued to stare, it appeared as though Brian's cock was
growing larger.  It was clearly chubbing up, right before my eyes!  At
first, the entire thing swelled noticeably, followed quickly by an
impressive extension in length.  I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like I
could see his heartbeat.  It wasn't yet firm enough to lift the heavy shaft
from his balls, but it was unquestionably on its way.  Glancing
apprehensively at Brian's face to make sure he hadn't noticed me watching,
I luckily found his eyes shut.  By the time my attention returned to his
growing erection, it was suspended in mid-air, starting its upward swing,
but still not completely hard.  His pulse was now unquestionably visible as
it swayed and grew firmer, more rigid.  The hood of skin looked tighter,
but had not yet begun to retreat from the head.  The thickening cock
leisurely bobbed several more times before swelling dauntingly and snapping
toward his stomach with a smacking sound, fully hard and throbbing.  His
balls looked like they were alive, the heavy nuts rolling around vigorously
in the sack.

	"Nice, ain't it?" he asked.

	Mortified, I nearly fell out of my chair.  He'd just caught me
staring at him while he grew a bone.  I tried to think of something clever
to say but couldn't find the words.  Finally, I decided to just tell the
truth.

	"Yeah, it's a nice one.  How big is that thing anyway?"

	He started to laugh uncontrollably, sounding a bit crazy.

	"Actually, I was talking about the pot, but since you mentioned it,
I guess my dick is pretty nice too.  I've never really measured it.  Well,
not since I first started getting wood.  But I'm sure it's grown some since
I was thirteen..."

	Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "...go get a ruler and
we'll check..."

	By this time, I was beyond protest.  Drunk and stoned, I walked
into the house to find a ruler.  Though I wasn't hard myself, my cock was
hanging heavier than normal and it wouldn't take much to bring on an
erection.  Though it seemed odd that this was turning me on, I just wanted
to see what would happen.  After returning to the deck with the ruler, I
held it out for Brian but he refused to take it.  Rather, he simply stared
at me.  For a second, I thought he was so out of it he'd forgotten why he
sent me in the house.

	...Until he spoke.

	"Do it for me..."

	Dumbstruck, I stood frozen momentarily, feeling blood rush to my
own cock.  It wouldn't be long before it was standing at attention.

	"You gotta be kidding...right?" I joked.  "I don't wanna touch it.
Measure it yourself..."

	"Stop playing games, Ricky.  You've wanted to touch it since I got
here.  Don't you think I noticed the way you've been staring at me?"

	He paused for a moment, letting the words hang in the air
uncomfortably.  I felt my heartbeat in my dick and knew it was on the rise,
but was powerless to stop it.  When I refused to answer, he added...

	"And I can see the thought of touching it is turning you on.  I
mean, look at your dick..."

	Lowering my gaze to my crotch, it was obvious that I was aroused,
my cock betraying me by standing hard and rigid while he watched.  Before I
looked back toward Brian, I noticed my slit start to glisten from the
precum moving inside the shaft.

	"I'm sorry, Brian," I apologized.  "I know this looks weird.  I
don't know what's gotten into me."

	"It's OK, Ricky.  Look, I'm your best friend, or at least I was in
school.  We can tell each other anything.  As far as I'm concerned it's no
big deal.  It doesn't change who you are.  I don't care if you're straight,
bisexual, gay, or just curious; I honestly don't give a shit.  But it's
obvious that you're turned on right now and I think you should just go with
it.  Who better to explore that with than a good friend?  I sure as hell
don't want you experimenting with some stranger in an adult bookstore or
something.  You could hook up with the wrong person at the wrong time and
get the shit beat out of you, or worse..."

	The moisture at the tip of my cock began to gather into a drop and
slowly oozed down the rigid shaft of my prick.  I could feel the sliding
wetness but was afraid to make any move to halt the trickle of slippery
fluid.  I couldn't even bring myself to look down.  He continued...

	"Here's what I think you should do.  Start by just measuring it for
me, that's all.  It'll give you an excuse to touch it and maybe that'll be
enough to satisfy your curiosity.  If not, we can decide if you wanna try
something else.  Dude, it's just us out here, nobody's gonna see..."

	He lowered his voice to a whisper before adding, "Let me help
you..."

	My cock pounded several more times and the drops of goo became
heavy enough to form a strand dangling from the slit.  I shifted my weight
from one foot to the other and the thread gradually lengthened, stretching
almost to the deck before breaking off and landing on my naked foot.

	"What do you say?" Brian prompted.  "Just measure it for me..."

	Moving closer to my buddy, I prepared to do as he asked.  Just
before I started, I abruptly stopped in my tracks.

	"I, I don't really...well, I don't know what to do," I stammered,
no longer wanting to protest, but honestly now knowing how to proceed.

	"Here, this should make it easier..."

	He stood and offered me his chair, then moved in front of me.  His
hard dick swung only inches away.  He hadn't touched it and the foreskin
still clung tightly to the head, as if refusing to let go.  His meat jutted
up toward his face, hard as stone, providing an excellent view of his large
nuts.  Without speaking a word, he allowed me to stare unashamedly, to
slowly fall under the spell being cast by his maleness.

	Then I did something that set him off...

	I licked my lips...

	"Yeah, that's it, Ricky," he teased.  "Just look at it, take it
ALLLL in, like you're trying to memorize it.  Remember, you're just trying
to satisfy your curiosity.  Don't worry, it's not gonna hurt you to stare
at it.  Actually, I think it's kinda cool that you like it so much, kinda
makes me feel good, like we're sharing something special.  Now go ahead and
measure it."

	Lifting the ruler in my shaking hand, I placed it near his
throbbing dick without touching it, as if this incredible erection deserved
respect and I had no right to disturb it.

	"You'll never get it measured right that way," he complained from
above.

	"How should I do it?" I asked timidly without breaking eye-contact
with his pulsing cock.

	"For god's sake, Ricky - use your hand!" he answered, sounding a
little annoyed.  "Pull it down so it's pointing straight out, then push the
end of the ruler into my pubes and measure where the tip comes to.  Jesus,
dude -- get with the program!"

	He punctuated his final words with a gentle, playful smack to the
back of my head to get me moving.

	I cautiously reached forward and wrapped my fingers around the
solid shaft.  My mind was spinning, unable to comprehend how different
another guy's cock felt in my hand.  Assuming it would feel identical to
mine, I was startled by the heat.  My God, the heat was intense, like it
was burning the skin of my fingers!  I pulled down, or at least I tried.
Not understanding the firmness of his erection initially, I failed to apply
enough force.  Adjusting the position of my hand, I found a firmer grip and
pulled again, unintentionally sliding his foreskin away from the head of
his dick.  He moaned slightly and for some reason that pleased me.  The
bright, red crown of his cock was slimy and wet from the collected precum,
which had gathered inside the skin instead of dripping off drop by drop
like mine.  I moved the ruler into place and pushed the end into his dark
blonde pubes until his skin provided resistance.  Then, laying the flat
edge along the upper side of his cock, I read the number that matched the
flared gooey tip.

	"What does it say?" he asked.

	I didn't look up when I spoke, refusing to take my eyes off the
amazing, pulsing erection I held in my hand.

	"SHIT!  That fucker is over eight inches, man!  Wait, wait, wait -
to be exact, it's eight and five-eights..."

	"How big is yours?"

	"I don't know..."

	Brian didn't need to ask me to check.  The combination of beer and
weed, along with my unambiguous sexual heat, had washed away any and all
shame over what we were doing.  Standing quickly, I pushed the ruler into
my own pubes and laid my rigid dick out to measure it, getting it slick
with my own prejizz.

	"You got me beat, dude!" I said excitedly, soundly vaguely
childish.  "Mine's only seven and three-eights..."

	"That's nothing to be ashamed of, buddy.  I think average is
somewhere around six or something.  Looks like we're both blessed in that
department, though I'm clearly a little more blessed than you..."

	We both laughed at his humor in pointing out the obvious.  I knew
his joke wasn't meant as an insult and, even if it had been, I don't think
I'd have cared at that moment.  We returned to our deck chairs and Brian
snatched up the bong to pack another bowl, casually talking the entire
time...

	"So, Ricky...  What'd you think of that?  You know, touching my
dick?"

	"It was interesting," I answered, trying to sound unaffected by the
experience.

	"Don't make it sound like a damn science experiment!" he snapped.
"Did you like it?  Be honest, I'll know if you're lying..."

	"Yeah, I guess it was OK.  Alright, I liked it..."

	I couldn't believe I'd just admitted that.  There was no
humiliation in the declaration; I'd come to trust him, even with something
embarrassing.  Like he said, he was just trying to help me understand why I
was so curious.

	"I liked it too," he confessed, making me feel even more at ease in
the process.  "It was kinda nice to feel you touch me like that.  When we
were still in college, I used to wonder what it would feel like to have a
guy touch me, but back then I'd have never done it.  It's nice to know you
like my body.  Dude, you can touch me any damn time you want!  I just don't
wanna push you or anything.  It has to be your decision..."

	He waited a few moments, taking a hit off the bong before
continuing, leaning forward in his chair toward me and lowering his voice
as if he was about to tell me a secret...

	"Listen, that pizza guy won't be here for at least another two
hours, if he shows up at all.  Let's try something before he gets here.
Any part of my body you wanna touch is yours.  Do anything you want; it'll
stay between us.  After you start, if you don't like what you're doing, all
you need to do is stop.  It's obvious you're still curious and I wanna help
you..."

	"I'm not sure we should be doing that, Brian..."

	"How about we start with something simple?  I'd really appreciate a
foot massage.  There's nothing sexual about a guy's feet and you'd actually
be doing me a favor.  After you've done that, if you wanna keep going,
maybe touch some other parts, that'll be OK with me.  If you'd rather stop,
that'll be fine too.  It'll just help you get started, help you get
accustomed to touching my body.  What do you say?"

	While thinking over his proposal, I took a hit off the bong.
Despite his promises to the contrary, I knew full well that this would
fundamentally change our relationship, but by now my hormones were raging.
Even though this was new to me, I decided to just go for it.  After all,
I'd been hoping for some excitement this weekend.

	Finally looking up at Brian, I said...

	"I'll do it..."

	"Great, buddy.  I really need a foot rub.  Get down there and make
my feet feel good.  Do a good job now, Ricky..."

	His subtle change in tone was utterly lost on me, given my haze of
pot and growing sexual heat.  After sitting on the deck, I reached for his
left foot and lifted it, placing it on my lap.  Wasting no time, I used my
thumbs to dig into the arch, giving his foot the relaxing massage he'd
requested.  Brian moaned in appreciation and adjusted his position in the
chair, moving his foot to within inches of my drippy cock.  As he did, he
stretched his toes, wriggling them in the air, causing the smell to waft up
to my nose.

	"That feels really good, buddy," he praised.  "Sorry they smell
bad..."

	"They're not that bad," I lied, trying not to hurt his feelings.
In fact, they smelled quite intense, musky and harsh.  It was startling
they smelled at all given that he'd been wearing flip-flops rather than
sneakers.

	"You're crazy, man!  They fucking reek!" he laughed.  "I haven't
showered in a couple of days, so I know they're not clean.  Shit, I can
smell `em from up here.  I was wearing my trainers without socks for the
past forty-eight hours, you know, during the trip, so I guess the stink
made its way into the skin.  I only changed into the flips to let `em air
out a bit."

	"I don't mind," I said rather passively.

	"Maybe you're into smells.  That wouldn't be so unusual for guys
like you..."

	My eyes shot up swiftly and I narrowed them, silently indicating I
hadn't appreciated that statement.  He immediately tried to undo the
damage...

	"I didn't say it was a bad thing.  Jesus, relax man!  It's just
that for some guys, smells can be just as stimulating as what they see or
feel.  It's possible you might be one of those guys.  You should find out,
dude..."

	"I don't think so, Brian."

	"Oh, stop your whining," he said dismissively.  "You've come this
far.  Don't be a pussy.  Take a whiff and tell me what you think..."

	Before I had time to resist, he lifted his foot and placed it right
in my face.  I almost said no, instantly considering standing up and
calling the whole thing off, but for some reason I didn't.  Instead, I
simply sat on the deck with his foot in my face before taking an obviously
deep breath through my nose.  My cock dripped several fresh beads of precum
as the scent of his dirty, unwashed foot made its way to my brain.  This
was the smell of a man; whether I was prepared to admit it or not, I was
turned on by it.

	So was Brian...

	"Oh yeah, that's it!  Get into it.  Dude, it's really hot the way
your cock slimes all over itself with my foot in your face.  You must like
it..."

	He pushed his foot even closer, his toes actually brushing against
my lips.  Given that my cock was now in complete control of my actions, my
mouth opened and I stuck out my tongue, gently licking around his enormous
big toe.  Then, moving my hands to hold his foot to my mouth, I began to
bathe them with my tongue.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I'd
regret giving in to this pleasure, but at the moment, this was all I wanted
in the whole world.

	"Fuck yeah," Brian encouraged.  "Put my toes in your mouth and suck
`em, dude!  Ricky, you're really into this.  Your dick is drooling like
crazy."

	Without even looking, I knew he was telling the truth.  I could
feel the slippery precum running down my cock, collecting around my nuts
before dripping onto the deck below.  His other foot moved to my crotch and
he ran his big toe along the pulsing shaft before lifting the now slimy toe
to my face, replacing his other foot.

	"See how much goo you're leaking, dude?" he teased with the
wagging, precum-covered toe in my face.  "Lick it up, Ricky..."

	Though I couldn't understand why his feet were affecting me this
way, I really didn't care at this point.  Without hesitation, I extended my
tongue and licked my own prefuck off his toe, further wetting it with my
own saliva.

	"That's it man, give in to it!  Let yourself go.  You know what
feels good and so does your dick, dude.  Just forget about how ridiculous
you look and let yourself do what feels right.  I love seeing you down
there like that, getting off on my dirty feet, getting off on the smell of
a man..."

	Curiously, his lewd prompting seemed to make me even hungrier.  I
grabbed both feet and held them tightly to my face, running my tongue
between his toes, licking up the accumulated dirt and sweat.  My balls were
churning and my groin was tightening, suddenly close to orgasm.  Even
without touching myself, I was about to blow an incredible load.

	Brian knew this too...

	Wrenching his feet from my hands, he gently slapped me across the
face with one of them.

	"Don't cum yet," he scolded.  "It's too early..."

	He then propped his feet on the table and proceeded to inspect
them.

	"You got `em pretty clean, man.  Who needs a shower when you're
around?"

	When he started to laugh, it was different somehow.  For the first
time tonight, I felt he was laughing at me instead of with me.

	"Get back in your chair, dude," he demanded.  Then, as he held out
the bong, he added, "Here, take another hit..."

	My cock swung awkwardly in the air as I stood, flinging precum onto
the deck, with a long, nasty strand stubbornly hanging from the tip.  I'd
never been this turned on in my entire life.  I didn't want any more pot.
I just wanted to cum.  But Brian wasn't about to let that happen.  Instead
of sitting, I grabbed my dick and brazenly started masturbating right in
front of him, desperate to relieve the pressure building in my nuts.  I
knew it wouldn't take but a few strokes and was almost over the edge before
Brian stood and aggressively wrestled my hand from my dick.

	"I said to sit down, goddamnit!" he growled menacingly.

	"But I need to cum, really bad," I whined.

	"We'll get to that, but it's not time yet.  Now sit!"

	He pushed me toward my chair and I sat obediently, wondering why he
didn't want to let me get off.

	"Why won't you let me do it?" I asked.  "You said I should be
spontaneous and get into it, but now you won't let me finish.  Why?"

	"The most important word in that question was `finish'.  That's
just what it is with most guys.  Get your nut and then you're done.  Well,
that's a huge waste, man.  Sex is fun and when something is fun, you should
make it last as long as possible.  Really get into it and stretch the whole
experience out.  Tell me, Ricky, when you jerk off, how long does it
usually take?"

	"I don't know...about ten minutes, maybe fifteen if I'm drunk."

	"I used to be the same way.  Whack off really fast and be done with
it.  But you haven't experienced anything until you've held it back for a
while, let it build and build before you blow.  Shit dude, that's one of
the most awesome experiences in the world!  I'd like to share that with
you.  I wanna teach you how to make something as incredible as sex last
longer than ten or fifteen minutes."

	"I don't know if I can, Brian.  I mean, just look at me..."

	He leaned forward in his seat and took a long, scrutinizing look at
my crotch.  My cock was as solid as I'd ever seen it, swollen, red, and
dripping absurd amounts of lube.  Brian looked from my crotch up to my
face.

	"Close your eyes for a second," he ordered.

	Once they were shut, he continued...

	"Now, just think about your cock, think about the way it feels
spiking up in the air like that, drooling all over the place, completely
out of control.  Tell me, how does that feel?"

	"It feels wonderful," I answered.  "You know that.  It's one of the
greatest feelings in the world."

	"Then for fuck's sake, why do you want it to end so fast?  It's
only 10:30.  We got all night.  Well, maybe not all night since I asked
that pizza guy over, but we still got plenty of time.  You can make it last
longer, feeling the pressure in your cock growing until you finally explode
like never before.  Aren't you the least bit curious about how long you can
last?  Don't you wonder how that would feel, to nut after a couple hours of
playing with it?"

	"...A couple of hours!" I shouted in disbelief.  "Brian, there's no
way in hell I can last that long.  Even if I don't touch it, it's liable to
just go off by itself."

	"I know.  Mine does the same thing sometimes.  Don't worry about
it.  You just need a little training and I can help with that."

	"What do you mean?"

	"I could show you an awesome time tonight if you'd just let me, but
you'd have to do it my way, follow my instructions..."

	Brian suddenly grimaced in mid-sentence, as if he was reconsidering
his offer.  After a short pause, he continued...

	"You know what?  You're a little too uptight.  I'm not sure you
could let yourself go quite that much.  You're probably not interested in
the kind of experience I'm talking about."

	"It just seems a little over the top to me," I argued.  "I mean,
following your instructions?  This is my house.  I'll just go to the
bedroom and finish up in there."

	As I started to rise, I noted the unusual expression on Brian's
face.  He took a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to control his
temper.

	"Ricky," he said calmly.  "You're starting to irritate me.  Part of
you wants to know more, the same part that was curious about my body,
curious about my feet, my smell.  When I showed up this afternoon, you had
no idea you'd end up touching my cock, or massaging my feet, or licking
them for that matter.  But you did and your dick loved it.  You gave in and
the reward was pleasure, wasn't it?  I wish you'd let me teach you.  You'd
only be admitting what we both already know."

	I remained silent for a few moments, considering his words.  I
needed to know more before making a decision.

	"It would depend on the rules..." I said as I sat back down.

	"There are only two," Brian explained.  "First, you can't touch
your own cock.  I won't allow it, no matter how much you need to cum.  You
don't have the necessary control or enough knowledge of your body to gauge
when to stop."

	"Brian, I already told you.  That doesn't always work.  Sometimes
it just goes off by itself."

	"Let me worry about that, OK?  I'm gonna be your coach through
this.  I'll do my best to keep that from happening until we're ready."

	"OK.  What's the second rule?"

	"Simple, you agree to try anything I suggest.  If you discover you
don't like it, feel free to stop anytime you want.  But you can't just say
no without trying first."

	"I can't agree to that," I objected.  "...not without knowing what
you're gonna ask me to do!  Besides, this is starting to sound like the
kinda stuff faggots do..."

	Back in college, I'd heard Brian use that word hundreds of times.
It was almost part of his daily vocabulary.  But when he heard me say it
here on the deck, his reaction was instantaneous and dreadfully grim.  His
face fell without warning and his jaw clenched.  His fingers drew into a
fist.  Having lived with him continuously for four years, I knew I had
angered him.  For a brief moment, it seemed as though he was about to leap
from his chair and beat me to death.  Instead, he took a second to gather
himself.  When he spoke, his purposefully calm tone masked how enraged he
really was.

	"You shouldn't use that word, Ricky -- especially you, especially
not tonight while you're sitting out here with a drippy boner, a boner you
threw after touching my cock.  Shit, you almost nutted with my foot in your
goddamn mouth!  I don't think you'd enjoy being called that name..."

	Following this stern reprimand, Brian shot me a look of pure
disgust, the expression tinged with a slight hint of disappointment as
well.  He appeared to be trying to think of what to say next...

	"Fine, go to your room and jerk off," he said harshly.  "A lot of
things have changed with me over the past three years, Ricky -- things we
haven't gotten around to talking about yet.  But after what you just said,
I don't think I can anymore.  I was just trying to help you, but I...you
know what, just never mind!  I should've known better than to think you
were ready for this.  You've changed since we were roommates, and it's not
been for the best..."

	He stood and headed for the sliding glass door, unmistakably
seething with hostility.  I couldn't let him leave like this.

	"Brian, wait!" I called out after him.

	I didn't have time to seriously consider what I was about to get
myself into, but that didn't matter.  If agreeing to his terms would make
him happy, then that's what I'd do.  Maybe, he was right.  Maybe I'd enjoy
it...

	"I'll do it..." I said impulsively.

	He turned to face me, his frustrated expression gradually giving
way to curiosity.

	"You agree to both rules?" he prompted, wanting to make certain I
was serious.

	"Yes," I consented.

	"And you won't try to back out once we get started?"

	"No, I'll do whatever you say."

	Brian returned to his seat with a cocky smirk across his face, a
look I'd never seen him use with me before.  I gazed at his crotch and
noticed his hardon had subsided somewhat.  The hood of skin had reclaimed
his cockhead, a sticky strand of goo hanging from the bunched up folds at
the tip.  As he sat down, he casually adjusted his balls and spent a moment
staring at me, sizing me up, and letting the importance of what I'd just
agreed to do sink in.

	"Get on your knees," he ordered.

	"What?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him correctly.

	He jumped out of his seat and grabbed the back of my head with
enough force to startle me, but not enough to cause any pain.  He tilted my
head up until our eyes met.  He spoke in slow, deliberate, careful words...

	"Don't question me.  Remember, you try everything you're told.  If
you don't like it after you try it, you can stop.  But don't question me
again.  Understood?"

	He continued to hold my head in his hands until he got the answer
he was seeking.  I nodded passively that I understood.  After releasing me,
he returned to his chair.

	"Good.  Now let's try that again.  Get on your knees."

	I did exactly as he demanded, a little shaken by his sudden
attitude shift but still trusting he wouldn't make me do anything I
wouldn't enjoy.  He smiled when he noticed how quickly I obeyed this time.

	"Now get over here and take another look at my cock, a real close
look.  That's how all this started anyway, you not being able to tear your
eyes away from my dick.  Well, it's gone soft and I'm guessing you'd like
to see it bone up again.  Get your face over here, really close to my
balls."

	Now on my knees, I crawled between his legs.  He wasn't satisfied.

	"No, get closer...closer."

	My nose was within inches of his cock and balls when he once again
grabbed the back of my head and forced it into his crotch, my mouth
actually touching his balls and soft, gooey dick.

	"Now, take a deep breath and hold it in..."

	As I inhaled, the sweaty, musky smell of man-crotch hit my brain
like a drug.  My own dick suddenly lurched, becoming agonizingly hard.  My
knees were hurting from the wood of the deck but I didn't care.  I took one
deep breath after another before actually starting to move my face around
in his crotch, sniffing him, covering every inch, as if I was trying to
capture all his smells without letting any escape.  Brian took one of his
hands off the back of my head and positioned his heavy cock so it was lying
across my face while I continued to root around near his sack.  I felt his
slimy precum ooze over my forehead.  This only served to set me off
further.  Without prompting, I used my nose to pry under his balls, lifting
the loose skin of his scrotum, and sniffing under each nut in turn.
Something clicked in the back of my mind and I knew I was in trouble, knew
I was hooked.  Brian was certain to use my eagerness against me, but there
was nothing I could do to stop myself.

	These fears were well grounded...

	"Damn, dude!  You look like a fucking pig down there sniffing all
over my sweaty nuts.  Shit, I know that's gotta stink, but there you are,
getting off on it.  I can't see your dick from up here but, from the way
you're rooting around in my funk, it's gotta be just pounding..."

	He removed his other hand from my head, freeing me from any
coercion at all.  I heard his lighter flick and knew he had lit a
cigarette.  The image of me on my knees between his legs, outside on my own
deck, smelling his big nuts while he sat back and casually smoked sent me
into overdrive.  Knowing I should stop, knowing I should take my head away
from his sack, I just couldn't.  To me, Brian's smell was exhilarating and
instantly addictive.  As I kept inhaling his ball sweat, I felt more of his
precum leak from the tip of his cock.

	"Shit, little piggy can't get enough, can he?" Brian teased.  "I
knew it, fucking knew it all along.  A guy can't fake that kind of
enthusiasm.  I figured you'd like it, but fuck!  You're about to inhale my
goddamn sack!"

	My face flushed with humiliation but still remained buried.  He
raised a foot off the deck, pressed it against my chest, and pushed me off
his crotch.  Startled, I fell backwards on my ass.  Looking up, I noticed
his cock was once again bone hard and instantly tried to return to him.  He
anticipated the move, however, and used his foot to block me.

	"Hey!  Not so fast, fucker!  I wanna make this last a while.  Your
little piggy sniffing got me a little hotter than I expected.  You should
be flattered, it means I like you.  But my dick needs to cool down some
before I let you back on it."

	Indifferent to my needs, Brian casually opened another bottle of
beer and took a large swig, staring me down for a few moments before
speaking again.

	"Man, I knew you were gonna like that, but you were fucking into
it!  Tell me how much you liked it."

	"I can't do that, Brian.  It's too embarrassing..."

	He answered by giving me another foot slap across the face.

	"Wrong answer, faggot!" he said coldly.

	When I opened my mouth to object to the use of that term, he
ruthlessly added, "Boy, don't you fucking complain about being called that
name.  You're the one that started it!  Consider this sensitivity training.
After this weekend, I doubt you'll ever use that word again..."

	I was afraid now.  This situation was getting out of control.  I
was out of control.  I'd just acted like a complete whore; no, worse than a
whore!  I'd never seen a bitch in a porno get off on a guy's crotch like I
just did.  Worse, Brian was either too high, drunk, or both to be
predictable.  To question him again might get me hurt.  He glared at me,
apparently irritated by my continued silence.

	"Tell me how much you liked it!" he repeated angrily.

	Unable to look him in the face, I lowered my eyes to the deck as I
answered, losing a little more of my rapidly dwindling dignity.

	"It was overwhelming," I quietly admitted.  "The smell was
incredible.  I never thought something like that could get me so turned
on..."

	Mortified to be saying those words, I was even more embarrassed
that they were the truth.  Brian just stared at me, almost contemptuously,
for more than a few seconds before standing and moving toward the sliding
glass door.  He paused as his hand reached for the handle.

	"I'm going inside to get my bag.  You stay where you are.  Don't
move a muscle or even think about touching your cock.  Do you understand?"

	After I nodded my understanding, he stared for a moment, apparently
contemplating my non-verbal response.

	"You're pissing me off, Ricky.  I'm tired of watching you nod at
me.  You have a voice...use it."

	"I understand, Brian.  I won't move..."

	"...and," he prompted.

	I swallowed hard before answering.

	"...and I won't touch my dick."

	Brian smiled when he realized how quickly his control over me was
growing.  He disappeared briefly inside the house, returning a few seconds
later with his bag.  He sat in front of me and began to look for something
in one of the side pockets.  Once he located the object of his search, he
passed it to me along with my half-empty beer.  It was a tiny, white,
unknown tablet.

	"Go on, Ricky, take it," he ordered.

	"What is it?"

	Brian immediately showed his frustration at the inquiry.

	"Are you TRYING to get me mad enough to hit you?  NO QUESTIONS!
I'll tell you what it is after you take it."

	Putting the chalky tablet in my mouth, I washed it down with a swig
of stale beer.

	"That was a tab of ecstasy," he explained.  "It'll put you in a
really nice place where you won't analyze every goddamn thing like you've
done so far.  I think you'll like it.  It'll take about twenty minutes to
kick in, so we need to do something that won't make you blow your nut
before then."

	He paused for a moment as he thought.

	"Just go down on my feet again, but you'd better not touch your
cock or lose your nut.  If you start to get close, let me know and I'll
help you calm down.  Once the pill kicks in, we'll move on..."

	He pulled his watch from his bag and put it on the table in front
of him.

	"Well, what are you waiting for?"

	His tone indicated that resistance might earn me another slap.  I
straight away reached for his feet with my hands.

	"No Ricky, don't touch `em," he warned.  "Use your mouth!"

	Putting my hands on the deck, I leaned forward and began to lick
his feet while he packed yet another bowl into the pipe.  Initially, I
simply licked the tops of his feet, wetting the tuffs of hair with my spit.
Moving down, I began to lick at the hairs that sprang from the joints of
each toe.  Despite the fact that I felt forced to do this, in some ways I
felt privileged to be on my knees servicing him.  My cock was dripping
again, a new batch slipping out and sliding down my rock-hard prick,
tickling my balls as it gathered and dripped off on the deck below.  I
never realized how drippy I could get since it usually got rubbed in as I
jerked off.  But now, unable to touch it, the slippery juice was free to
run all over the place.

	I lifted my head discretely to look up at Brian and found he wasn't
even paying attention; rather, his face was turned to the woods as he
silently sipped another beer.  I was strangely disappointed.  I'd enjoyed
the way he spoke to me earlier and, though the thought appalled me, I
missed the lewd, nasty talk from my college buddy.  When my tongue slipped
between his toes, Brian rewarded this behavior by spreading them and
tilting his entire foot up, lifting the sole off the deck and allowing me
to access his smelly toes.  I worked each one slowly, sucking them as best
I could in this awkward position.

	Brian was fumbling around in his bag again.  By this time, I was
into my work and didn't bother to look until I saw a bright flash of light.
Gazing up, I was shocked to find he was holding a digital camera, the
device having just captured the first of many pictures to be taken that
night.  He met my gaze and glared back, speaking slowly and purposefully...

	"GET BACK TO WORK!"

	Embarrassed and beaten, I lowered myself back to his feet.  Then I
felt the drug hit.  With the big toe of his right foot in my mouth, my skin
began to tingle over my entire body.  My cock lurched and throbbed wildly,
just seconds from shooting a massive load.

	I moaned loudly and Brian knew I was about to cum...

	With amazing speed, he grabbed the back of my head and tossed me
backward.  I knocked over the chair nearest me and fell on my haunches in
the corner of the deck.  Looking up, I saw Brian towering over me, his
half-hard cock jutting from his body, the skin pulled over the head with a
slimy thread of goo hanging from the tip.  Mesmerized and now thoroughly
high, all I could do was stare at it.

	Brian's sudden movements had brought me back from the brink of
orgasm and I just squatted in front of him, panting, admiring his crotch.
He gently lifted his half-swollen prick and pointed it at my face, holding
the camera with the other hand.

	"Open your mouth!" he instructed.

	I don't know why I obeyed, but I instantly regretted it.  As I
crouched open-mouthed in front of his cock, it suddenly began to spew forth
a stream of hot piss, the first blast of which caught me right in the
mouth.  At that same moment, another bright flash of light rendered me
temporarily blind.  When my lethargic reflexes correctly determined what
was happening, I promptly shut my mouth and attempted to scramble out of
the way.  Brian was far too quick for me, however, and his strong arm
released his cock and grabbed my head.  He didn't bother trying to re-open
my mouth, choosing instead to simply position my head under his still
gushing cock.  I felt his piss cover my head and face, running down my
chest, pooling near my naked feet, before dripping through the slats in the
deck.  He pushed my head backward, out of his way, and aimed the last
strong spurts at my cock.  The heat of the fluid was unbelievable and, in
spite of the humiliation, my urge to cum returned.  Then, just as suddenly
as it began, this nightmare was over.  Brian stood over me, clearly amused,
shaking the last drops of smelly piss from his skin-covered cockhead.

	"That's right, Ricky!  That really just happened.  You didn't
imagine it.  You just took a man's piss and you're still hard.  I figured
you would be.  You hardly even struggled.  I probably could've talked you
into it, but was afraid you'd just bitch.  Thought it would be better to
take you by surprise.  From the look of your dick, I think you liked it.
Go on; look at your cock..."

	As I looked down, I was truly mortified by what I found.  My rigid
cock was thrashing uncontrollably, one or two strokes from orgasm.  The
entire organ was engorged obscenely, covered in slippery precum.  Though
obviously turned on, I wasn't ready to admit that to Brian.

	Angry and embarrassed, on the verge of tears, my voice cracked as I
started to complain.

	"It's that fucking drug you gave me," I whined while trying to spit
out the remnants of his piss.  "Anyway, you said that when I was ready to
quit we could.  Well, I've had enough!  I don't wanna do anything else..."

	Brian merely turned around and returned to his seat.  He lit a
cigarette and stared at me, still crouching timidly on the deck, covered in
his piss with my hard cock dripping and jutting out from my crotch.  He sat
there for a few long, uncomfortable moments before finally speaking...

	"Tough!  That's what the camera is for.  I knew you'd try to back
out, so I thought I'd take some pictures to keep you in line."

	He sighed heavily and lowered his voice before continuing.

	"Look Ricky, you don't need to be afraid of me.  Believe it or not,
I'm still your friend.  I like you, probably more than you realize right
now.  It's obvious you're enjoying this; you just can't admit it, not yet
anyway.  If your cock were soft right now, I'd delete these pictures and
forget the whole thing.  But since it's not, I intend to make you finish
what you started.  Otherwise, these pictures might mysteriously show up in
your boss's inbox.  Actually, I think I still have your mother's email
address somewhere..."

	I was beaten.  There was no getting out of this except to let him
proceed with my "training".  He was right about one thing; I was horny and
needed to get off.  Though this was degrading, at least my body was
enjoying it.  I looked up at Brian and he saw from my expression that I'd
do anything he asked.

	"How close are you to shooting?" he asked.

	"I'm really close," I admitted.  "It could happen any time..."

	"Stand up and wait `til you back off the edge a little."

	Doing as he commanded, I stood in the corner of the deck, being
careful not to stimulate my cock in the slightest.  We must've waited ten
minutes, but finally my cock began to sag a bit as his piss dried on my
body, making me feel chilled.  By now, the ecstasy had fully taken effect
and the sensation of cold was magnified beyond anything I'd ever felt.
Brian noticed me begin to shiver and grabbed his bag, motioning for me to
go inside.  Following me, he shut and locked the glass door before facing
me.  His eyes were captivating, charismatic, almost hypnotic, and I could
not break free of their stare.  He moved the coffee table away from the
couch and motioned for me to sit.  Forgetting that I smelled of piss, I
naively sat on the soft, upholstered cushions.

	Brian wasn't long in correcting this mistake...

	"Get on the floor, bitch!"

	After moving to comply, Brian gathered my wrists behind my back.
More quickly than I could've anticipated, he wrapped a supple rope securely
around them, tying it off in an unyielding knot.  He then pulled the
remaining end of the rope down and fastened it around my ankles.  Once
done, he stood to admire his handiwork and saw me kneeling on my living
room floor, wrists bound behind my back, anchored to my ankles.  Though it
wasn't very comfortable, it wasn't painful either.  Still, my movements
were undeniably limited.

	I was his, and he knew it...

	Brian circled me like an animal for a few minutes before casually
sitting on the couch and lighting another cigarette, blowing his smoke
toward me each time he exhaled, never speaking a word, but never allowing
me to escape his brutal stare.  He was enjoying the discomfort of this
situation, enjoying the mix of fear, anticipation, and pleasure he found in
my eyes, and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

	"Look at your fucking cock!" he commanded as he took the last draw
off his cigarette.

	I obeyed, knowing what I would find.  My dick was back to full mast
again, turned on my nothing more than his stare and the thought that I was
his to do with as he pleased, that whatever he planned to do, I was
powerless to stop it.  The slit of my cock was oozing a steady stream of
juice now; in fact, the entire quivering shaft was covered in dick slime.

	"I think it's time for something I'm gonna enjoy," he explained.
"I've let you at my feet twice already tonight.  And I gave you the chance
to sniff my balls.  Hell, I even let you taste my piss.  Now it's time for
the real thing.  You're finally gonna get to suck it.  But not right away.
No, that'd be too quick for me.  Remember, I like to make it last a while
too..."

	He looked up at the clock and saw it was 11:20.

	"You aren't allowed to make me sling it before midnight.  Do you
understand?"

	"Yes, Brian.  I understand..."

	My gaze was already fixed on the enormous, skin-covered cock that
was drooling on my couch.  He wasn't fully hard and the weight of his dick
had it lying on the cushions instead of pointing toward his face, as it had
been when he first sat down.  I shivered at the thought of tasting his
wetness.  I still couldn't admit it, but I definitely wanted it.  Brian
chuckled to himself as he saw me staring, as if he knew exactly what was
going on in my mind, knowing the private war I was fighting between my
brain and my dick, and knowing, in the end, which one would ultimately win.

	"Well, what are you waiting for?" he barked.  "Get started
already!"

	I painfully inched forward on my knees once I realized Brian wasn't
going to move.  When I finally covered the distance between us, I lowered
my head, almost arriving at his juiced-up cock before his hand slowed my
descent.

	"Just lick it a while first," he coached.  "You may need some
instructions if you're gonna make it until midnight."

	Extending my tongue, I lowered my head until it made contact with
the puckered folds of skin covering his cock, immediately tasting the salty
tang of precum as I probed deeper and deeper into his foreskin.  I could
sense his dick was once again on the rise and heard him let out a soft
moan, the sound setting me on fire.  I tried to take the head of his cock
in my mouth but was quickly pulled off.

	"Are you deaf, boy?  Look, I know you want this cock, but you WILL
follow instructions.  I told you to lick it, not suck.  Lick until it's
fully hard and the foreskin pulls off.  Then we'll discover what other
talents that mouth of yours might have."

	Releasing my head, he relaxed into the soft cushions of the sofa
while I submissively licked his growing bone using only my tongue.  The
weight of his cock rapidly gave way to the strength of his erection,
forcing me to move closer as it bobbed and swayed in front of my face, now
hanging half-hard, pulsing and moving around.  Without hands, it was a
challenge to capture it.  My tongue got the foreskin as wet as possible and
I drank down his precum every time another drop oozed from the folds.  Just
then, I witnessed the crimson head of his cock begin to emerge from the
tight ring at the tip of his foreskin.  It was amazing.  The slimy dick
pulsed again and the head pushed forward as the skin gave up the fight and
slowly retreated.  The throbbing meat slapped me across the face as it
continued to thump and pulsate in mid-air.  Extending my tongue again, I
used it help the sticky head free the foreskin completely.  Brian moaned as
my tongue brushed over his naked cockhead.  When the musk of his pent-up
crown hit my brain, I moaned with him.

	Unexpectedly, I became aware that I was about to cum.  Terrified by
what Brian might do if I shot, I fought to stay in control.  It was a
futile effort.  Timidly, I gazed up and told him what was about to happen.

	"Brian, if I keep doing this I'm gonna cum.  I know you don't want
me too, but I'm so fucking close!"

	Watching closely for his reaction, I soon got one...

	Brian stared at me for only a split-second before launching a big
wad of spit at my face and pushing me backwards with his foot.  Bound and
off-balance, I fell on my side to the floor, my hard cock pulsing against
the carpet, seconds from spewing its load.  Brian stood and retrieved his
bag, extracting a shorter length of rope.  Separating my knees, he roughly
manhandled my balls, pulling them away from my body before wrapping the
rope around them, the pain bringing me back from the edge.  Brian jiggled
the rope for a few seconds, enjoying the fear in my eyes, before pulling it
backward sharply and securing it to the rope around my ankles, feeling like
he was gonna pull my nuts off.  As I gathered my breath, he returned to the
couch, complaining about my lack of control, teasing me for getting so
close with nothing more than a cock in my face.

	"Get the fuck back over here!" he yelled.  "You got a job to
finish..."

	While struggling to return to my knees, I discovered that the rope
around my nuts jerked my sack backward each time I moved, causing my
erection to flail about from my crotch.  Inching forward warily, the
distance between us slowly closed.  Once between his legs, he grabbed the
back of my head and positioned his nasty cock right on my lips.

	"Open up, Ricky.  You've been wanting this all night..."

	I opened my mouth and felt about three inches of his steely hard
cock slip inside.  He moaned loudly, temporarily satisfied, and just held
it there for a few seconds, telling me how hot my mouth felt around his
prick.

	Holding my head steadfast, he began to pump it up and down on his
drippy meat, farther and farther down the shaft until the thick head began
to strike the back of my throat.  I felt the urge to gag each time it
touched this spot but Brian didn't care.  Tears began to well in my eyes,
an autonomic reflex when a person feels they're choking.  Through those
tears, I could see that at least half of his cock was still outside my
mouth.

	How far did he intend to go?

	The answer came moments later when he pulled my face clear of his
cock and held it firmly less than an inch from the angry, flared head.  He
didn't let me turn to look at him, but I heard him say...

	"Take a long, really deep breath through your mouth..."

	As soon as I began to inhale, he slammed my head brutally onto his
crotch, his dirty cock pausing for only a moment when it bumped into my
throat and slid down the relaxed orifice.  Of course, once I realized what
had just happened, my throat was no longer relaxed.  While I gagged
continuously, he pushed me down to his pubes, my throat convulsing over and
over around the thick invader.

	"Fuck YES!" he screamed loudly, making me glad I had no close
neighbors.  "Shit, that's it, Ricky!  It's like your throat is trying to
get me to cum all by itself.  Goddamnit, your throat was made for cock,
made to let a man sling his baby-maker's down there..."

	Just before I thought I'd pass out, he lifted my head long enough
for a quick gasp of air.  Thick, nasty strands of saliva came gushing from
my mouth, coating his pulsating shaft.  The consistency of whipped cum, the
disgusting, bubble-filled fluid slipped nastily over his balls, soiling my
couch.  When he shoved my head back down, he had a more difficult time
ramming it into my throat since he no longer had the element of surprise.
Still, he managed to force it inside, until my nose was buried in his
sweaty pubes.  I gagged again, my mouth producing another glob of mucus,
lubricating his cock for each thrust to come.  This time, he didn't hold me
down as long before letting me up for air and soon settled into a long,
slow, deep throat fuck.  As I calmed down, I began to get a grip on my
breathing, timing my inhalations to occur at the precise moment his cock
exited my throat.  Brian was absolutely in control, never releasing my head
for even a second.  Spit and precum were everywhere; a fucking river of
white, foamy saliva dripped from his balls, onto my couch, and oozed to the
floor.

	Brian continued his verbal assault as well...

	"Yeah, you fucking bitch, take my cock!  Take it all the way to the
root!  You've been dreaming about this big, thick uncut cock for years,
haven't you?  Admit it, Ricky.  Seeing me naked when we were in college
must've been a real treat for you.  I bet you used to frig that little
prick of yours every time I left for class.  When we'd beat off together,
you were imagining about how it would feel to get my dicksnot all over you.
Shit, wouldn't surprise me to find out you used to lick it off the floor
after I was done.  I gotta admit you hid it well; I mean, just the two of
us cooped up in that tiny room, my dirty socks and underwear lying around
everywhere, smelling up the place.  Bet you got into those smells back
then, too.  From the way you got into my feet tonight, I know you musta
sprung a bone every time you walked into our room..."

	He wrapped the large toes of his right foot around the rope linking
my balls and ankles and started to tug at it repeatedly, yanking it in time
with his thrusts.  My cock began to sling juice everywhere.  If I had not
been so concerned with choking, I'd have exploded immediately from the
rough jiggling.  As it was, I was hanging on the edge, experiencing and
relishing the awesome feeling of impending orgasm.

	Brian continued his diatribe...

	"I bet you couldn't wait to see my dick this weekend, could you?
Maybe that was the reason you invited me to stay here.  Shit dude, you got
more than you bargained for this time, didn't you?  I knew there was a
submissive little boy in you somewhere.  Lucky for you, I'm just the kinda
man to bring out those tendencies.  We can talk later about all the things
I've learned since college.  I still can't believe how fucking wet you got
measuring my cock, or how hot you got while sucking my toes!  Shit, you
almost lost your load with my big toe in you mouth!  I mean, that's just
fucked up..."

	His thrusts were coming quicker now and I detected a new wave of
swelling traveling up his cock.

	Brian was getting close...

	"Remember how you rooted around my balls, boy?  Shit, you looked
like a fucking pig down there sniffing my sack.  Now you've got the whole
thing, right down your throat, just like you always wanted.  My thick,
uncut cock, the same cock that pissed in your face, is plowing your mouth.
You're about to milk the nasty sperm outta my nuts and that fucking makes
you hot, doesn't it?  It takes you right to the edge, thinking about
tasting my jizz.  Well, bitch, get ready!  Here it comes!!!"

	Time slowed to a crawl.  Brian's cock swelled impossibly large and
the first violent wave of jizz traveled up his shaft, emptying far down my
throat.  Knowing I was gonna cum too, I prepared for my own, long-awaited
orgasm but was interrupted when he painfully gripped the back of my head
and forced me off his dick.  With unbelievable swiftness for a man in
mid-orgasm, he angled my skull backward awkwardly and sat on the edge of
the sofa, with the head of his cock less than an inch from my mouth.  It
shuddered again, with nothing to hold it steady, spewing a second
substantial load on my face, from my hairline to my chin.  I wanted to cum
with him, but my aching scalp caused me to lose focus; with the haze of
drugs, my body just couldn't go over the edge.  A third blast coated my
right cheek and hastily ran down my chin, mingling with what was already
there, gaining enough weight to slip off and splash onto the floor.

	Unexpectedly, Brian removed a single hand from my head and used it
to pull his foreskin up and over the still spouting crown of his dick,
securely pinching it off between his thumb and forefinger.  The skin began
to swell and I knew he was pumping sperm into it.  It ballooned even more
and he tilted his head back in ecstasy.  God, how I wanted to cum!
Focusing on the underside of his shaft, I noticed the thick tube contract
as yet another wave of cocksnot accumulated under the hood of skin.  He
yanked my head backward even further, looking down at me contemptuously,
and hocked a nasty wad of spit into my open mouth.

	"Since the first one went down your throat and you're wearing the
second and third, my bitch roommate hasn't gotten to taste any yet.  Is
that what you want, faggot?  You wanna taste the hot sperm inside this
skin?"

	Embarrassed and somewhat fearful, I nodded to indicate that I
wanted it.  He shook my head roughly and started to yell.

	"I told you not to fucking nod at me!  Use your goddamn mouth,
bitch!  Tell me what you want!"

	"Please Brian, I wanna taste it," I answered, initially just to
make him stop shaking my head.  When he still seemed unsatisfied, I started
to improvise.

	Some dark, hidden part of my psyche gave birth to the following
words.  "Please don't waste it, Brian.  I need to see what it tastes like.
Please let me have it in my mouth..."

	Though truly scared, I was more sexually aroused than I'd ever
been, silently acknowledging to myself that I meant every humiliating word
of that admission.

	"Keep your mouth open, bitch!" he demanded.  "Here it comes!
Enjoy!"

	He held his still pulsing cock over my open mouth as he inched
closer, simply letting it hang suspended over my tongue for a moment,
temptingly.  He kept the skin pinched off, staring at me, drilling into my
soul and watching for a reaction.  After what seemed like an eternity, he
skinned it back, giving me my first real taste of a man's semen.  As the
crown cleared the dank confines of his foreskin, the pent up jizz gushed
out like a fountain, directly into my expectant, hungry mouth.  The taste
was incredible.  Everything he'd said about me was true.  I wanted to cry,
I wanted to cum, I wanted to run away, I wanted to taste more of his cock,
all at the same time.  Closing my mouth, I moved the thick, creamy nut of
my college buddy around with my tongue, savoring the musky flavor and heat
of his load.  He began to slap my cheeks with his slimy, spent cock,
smearing spilt jizz around my face, before releasing my head long enough to
take a few snapshots of his new pussyboy.

	It barely registered in my turbulent mind that the doorbell was
ringing.


Thanks for all the encouragement!  Keep reading!