[Having dined - and done other things - with Martin and Joseph, Matthew gives us his account of the aftermath when he and Andrew return to their house on the beach. Apologies for the relatively small amount of cum spilled in this episode!]
Andrew and I didn't talk at all during the drive home.
It wasn't that we were at odds with each other. I think we were both preoccupied with thoughts about our adventures at Martin's dinner party.
We were also acutely aware of the chauffeur up front. It was not a good setting for an in-depth and intimate discussion. So we sat listening to muted blues on the limo's sound system.
The first thing we did once we'd closed our front door was to move into an embrace, kissing deeply and pressing against each other.
It was a reassuring embrace. It was an affirmation that the love between us had not been jeopardised by our participation in a game of sexual Truth or Dare.
'I love you, Babe' Andrew whispered softly.
'It's mutual' I told him, moving my head back in order to smile at him.
'I'm going to fix us some coffee' he said. 'But I don't want to be apart from you for the time that will take.'
So he took my hand and led me to the kitchen.
I perched on a counter-top while he set the percolator to work. While we waited, Andrew came and stood in front of me, gently nudging my legs wider apart so he could occupy the space between them.
He leaned down, raised my face to his, and kissed me again. It was a soft kiss but it was nonetheless incredibly sexy. I moved a hand to his crotch and groped him.
'Jesus, Andrew. You're hard again. You're insatiable tonight.'
He groped me too, and quickly discovered my erect cock.
'Talk about the pot calling the kettle black' he said.
'Shall we forget about the coffee?' I asked. 'Just go to bed and have wild and glorious sex.'
'Tempting' Andrew replied. 'But we really need to talk, Matthew. Well, I do. I want us to be clear about what happened tonight. OK?'
'Yep' I said. 'I must admit I'm a bit muddled right now.'
It was a mild night. We took our mugs of coffee out to the patio. The surf was breaking more quietly than usual on the sands below. The sky was clear - an inky black with a myriad stars for decoration.
We sat on two comfy outdoor chairs and Andrew set the ball rolling.
'You know I love you. Right?'
'But you're wondering why I allowed things to go so far. Right? You're wondering if I'm suddenly willing to embrace sex outside our relationship.'
'I'm going to make a bit of a speech now' he warned me. 'I ask you to listen carefully and accept that everything I'm about to say is the absolute truth and that it comes from both my heart and my head. OK?'
It had become the only word I could utter. Despite his earlier assurances, I was worried that Andrew was about to dump me. I was terrified that this was the end.
'You know I never really wanted to have Martin back in my life. I told you that when Joe first got in touch.
I mean it when I say that Martin is an evil and manipulative man. He's lower than a snake's belly. He has no scruples whatsoever.
That night he and Joseph came here for dinner - the so-called reconciliation - as soon as he stripped off and dived into our pool, I knew he hadn't changed at all.
He wanted us to skinny dip because he wanted to check out your junk; assess your foreskin. And Joseph was desperate to check me out too. I could feel his eyes boring into my groin the entire time.
Beneath all the studied charm and vivacity, Martin is still a cunning and despicable man. And he's obviously managed to corrupt poor Joseph. They've become a gruesome twosome.'
Andrew paused to sip his coffee. I remained still and silent. I was hanging on his every word.
'At first, I didn't want them to return our hospitality. I wanted to refuse the invitation. I knew they'd be up to something.
But then I decided it was time to turn the tables on Martin - and Joseph too. I decided to play along with their silly games.
But I also decided to play a few tricks myself. I wanted us to leave them feeling demoralised and almost wishing we didn't exist.
I knew Martin would spin some elaborate web in the expectation of trapping us. All that preliminary stuff - the home video of me naked, the porn movie, the game where every question was loaded with sexual innuendo - I knew exactly where Martin and Joe were headed.'
'I just thought we were having fun' I confessed, and immediately felt guilty for interrupting him.
'I know you did. That's why I took you aside and asked you to trust me and just go along with things.
I didn't want you to know what the subplot was; I thought it was better you not know what I was planning. That way, you couldn't accidentally give me away.
Martin's cunning like a fox. He's always hoping to find a soft underbelly. And he made sure we had plenty to drink too. He was counting on us being so inebriated we'd lose all self-control and follow every suggestion.'
'Well, we did get a bit sauced' I interjected. 'And we did do everything they wanted. Didn't we?'
'Sweetheart' Andrew said. 'I love your trusting and uncomplicated approach to life.
No - we didn't do everything they wanted at all. We played along and conceded a point here and there, but we won the match, I assure you.'
'You'll have to explain that to me' I commented. 'Seems to me they wanted sex with us. And that's exactly what happened.'
Andrew collected the empty mugs and went inside to get us a refill. As I waited, I reviewed the events of the evening, trying to see them as a contest of some kind, and attempting to work out why it was that Andrew was claiming victory.
He returned and took up from where we'd left off.
'Firstly' he said. 'They made a big mistake in serving up such a huge meal. Alcohol has less impact on a full stomach. And I was in highly vigilant mode anyway; very much on guard. The booze relaxed me a bit, but I exaggerated its effect upon me.
Secondly - it was a mistake to screen that old tape of me and follow it up with a porno movie. It's the oldest trick in the book. You select a victim; you pour alcohol into him until his judgement is all askew; then you talk dirty or screen some porn; and - hey presto - he's putty in your hands.'
I was beginning to get Andrew's drift. I was fascinated.
'But Matt, he's not putty if he's on guard and still relatively sober. Martin assumed we were both at a stage where we could be persuaded to do almost anything he suggested.
When we agreed to play Truth or Dare, he thought he had us on toast. I pretended to be a little reluctant but I was actually very happy to give him all the rope he needed to hang himself.'
'So' I commented. 'You're telling me you were quite happy to drop your pants and have your dick measured? That you weren't caught up in the moment? Funny, because that's when I decided you were a bit drunk.
And, by the way, what's your problem with dick size? Who in his right mind understates the size of his cock?'
'Good questions' Andrew said. 'But I'll deal with them later. For now, let's just concentrate on the game.'
'OK' I sighed. 'But don't make it too complicated.'
'Matthew, I knew before we got there that Martin would try to engineer a situation where my junk was on display. But I also knew that wasn't his ultimate goal. So I used a sprat to catch a mackerel.'
'Your dick is hardly a sprat' I interjected. 'It's more like a killer whale!'
'We'll deal with that later on too' Andrew said.
'Anyway, sprat or no sprat, I was OK about flashing my wares. I knew it would make Joseph happy, and I wanted Martin to think he had us right where he wanted us.
I hoped you wouldn't get upset when I suggested that Joe give me a blow job. I didn't really want him sucking my cock. It was a strategic move. I was prepared to lose a tiny battle in order to win the war.
Joseph wanted my dick in his mouth so I threw him a bone. If it helps at all, he's a lousy cock-sucker.'
'Is that why you asked me to take over?' I asked.
'Partly. I infinitely prefer cumming in your mouth. But I also wanted to slap Joe around a bit by denying him the pleasure of swallowing my load. I made it clear that you were the one whose attentions I preferred.
And then I gave Joe another little slap by agreeing he could have the dregs and slurp away my last few droplets. He enjoyed doing that, but he resented the fact that he'd been denied the main course.'
'I'm beginning to get it' I said. 'But I'm not sure why or how we all ended up in bed together.'
'Remember when I took you aside and asked you to trust me and go along with things?'
'Yep. You didn't need to ask. I trust you totally.'
'Thank you for that, but I will never assume I have control of your mind and body. Having you suck my dick in front of other guys was already asking a lot of you. But, asking you to allow Martin to suck your dick was bordering on an abuse of your trust.
You see, Matthew; what they wanted most was to bring us down. Martin was very keen to add another foreskin to his collection; put another notch in his belt by sucking you off. And both Martin and Joseph wanted me to fuck them.
I played along, but I always intended denying Martin his ultimate goal. Pleasure. Victory. They both thought it was within their grasp, but it was snatched away from them.'
'What about letting Joe fuck you?'
'I didn't let him fuck me, Matthew. I ordered him to do it. I really did want to try bottoming and I didn't want to force you to top me. So I thought 'Why not let poor, clueless Joseph do the deed?
He's not exactly a stud, so I thought it would be relatively quick and painless.'
'And was it? Painless, I mean. You told us that you didn't like it much. And you seemed in a bit of pain at times.'
'Some of the pain was pretend-pain, Matthew. But, yeah; it hurt a bit, especially at the beginning and when he pulled his dick out so fast at the end. And I deliberately insulted Joe by saying I'd never try it again.
Truth is, babe - it wasn't so bad. I'd do it again. But only with you. And only if you wanted to. Just occasionally. OK?'
'Maybe' I said.
'Anyway' Andrew continued. 'Once Martin had sucked you off, they probably thought they were leading us one game to nil. And then I gave Joseph the fuck he'd been yearning for. But it wasn't anything like he'd dreamt it would be.
I was deliberately brutal. If it was size he was after, then I was determined to make him appreciate how painful a rampaging dick can be.'
'You sure gave it to him' I commented. 'I thought you were enjoying yourself.'
'Oh, I was, Matthew. I was. But not in the way you imagine.
Sure it felt good, but I was driven by anger throughout.
I hated him. I hated Martin. I hated their silly games. I wanted them to pay. And the price for Joe was a brutal near-rape.
I prolonged things deliberately. I wanted to rip his ass apart and make him wish he'd never clapped eyes on me. It was anger that helped me to recover quickly and go a second time.
And, when I finally pulled out of him, I knew Joseph was in a world of pain. That made the score one all.'
'That's a tie' I said.
'True. But the best part was yet to come. You might remember I hinted that I was ready to go a third time before I pushed Joseph away.
I saw Martin's beady little eyes light up. He was convinced I would fuck him next. He thought he was about to welcome his trophy cock - mine - back inside his shitty snake asshole. He was devastated when that didn't happen.
Apart from destroying our happy faithful relationship, that was his ultimate goal. All the other stuff paled by comparison. He'd lost. And we'd won.'
'I think I get it' I eventually admitted. 'But I wish I hadn't been so totally clueless while this contest was being played out.'
'I wouldn't have you any other way' Andrew assured me. 'The last thing I want you to be is as corrupt as Martin is. I prefer you exactly as you are. Trusting, honest and totally natural.'
'Like the village idiot' I suggested, chuckling.
'Not true' he cried. 'But even if it were, that would make me the idiot who loves the village idiot. Now how idiotic is that?'
'Incidentally, Andrew' I said. 'You lied about your virginity.'
'Not really. I wasn't about to tell Martin I'd been raped repeatedly by all your kin. I scarcely remember it now anyway.
And besides, Martin asked about surrendering my virginity. I didn't cheerfully surrender to Pa and your awful brothers. They raped me against my will.'
'Andrew, until he suddenly reappeared in our lives, you rarely spoke of Martin. I know he was unfaithful. What else did he do to you? Why do you hate him so much?'
There was a long pause. I began to think I should have held my tongue. But Andrew was obviously choosing his words with care. When he spoke it was in a sad and oddly hollow voice.
'Martin lied to me from the very first day I met him. I was naive and trusting. He was charming and manipulative. A lethal combination.
He pretended that he was inexperienced and looking for someone similar. He led me to believe that he despised the gay scene with all its casual sex and shallowness.
And then he introduced little things - bit by bit - that made it increasingly obvious that he wasn't inexperienced at all.
He would sit in a booth in men's rooms, using a tiny peephole to spy on guys while they pissed at the urinal; he was always on the lookout for a new dick and he always hoped they'd be uncut.
He's obsessed with foreskin. He says that's because he hasn't got one himself. Maybe so, but spying on guys while they take a leak is a bit weird in my opinion.
Then he began to ask if he could watch me piss whenever I used the bathroom. It weirded me out a bit. But it became a part of our lives. It wasn't long before he admitted he craved being pissed on. And he wanted me to piss inside him too. So that also became a part of our lives.
He craved total degradation and he was gradually degrading me too.
He deliberately manipulated me into suggesting that poor, homeless and unloved Joseph should come and stay with us for a while.
All he really wanted was to add another notch to his belt by seducing Joseph in much the same way he seduced me. I think he's probably tricked hundreds of guys into doing things they didn't really want to do.
Above all else, Matthew, he treated me like a stud bull. I came to feel that it wasn't me he loved; it was my foreskin he loved. That and the fact that it was attached to a larger dick than most other men he'd encountered.'
We sat quietly for a while. I was glad that Andrew had finally opened up to me about past unhappiness. I now had a better perspective on our night at Martin's house.
'Do you hate Joseph too' I asked.
'I didn't at first' Andrew said. 'I viewed him as a guy down on his luck who needed a safe place to crash while he licked his wounds.
But then I caught him staring at me in the showers at the gym. He had an awful mask of naked lust on his face. And after the shower incident, I noticed how he constantly stared at my basket. If I was seated in a chair, he'd deliberately position himself to get the best view possible.
I'd been thinking we were friends but it was obvious that he didn't see me as a friend at all. All he could see was a big dick.
And then he slept with Martin. So yes, I came to hate him too.
But I had no room in my heart for hatred after meeting you, Matthew. Hatred is a very corrosive emotion. I put all enmity behind me the day I met you. I have always felt secure and very happy with you.
And then Martin and Joe turned up suddenly and it all came flooding back. I wanted to believe Martin had changed his ways but just one glance told me he hadn't. And nor had Joe. Everything was sexual innuendo and furtive glances at my junk and yours.
It appals me that anyone could know me, pretend to love or like me, and ultimately regard me as just an uncut cock on legs. It reduces us all to animals.
And it's unforgivable to deliberately attempt to spoil other people's lives. That's what those two tried to do to us.'
I reached out and took Andrew's hand. I squeezed it sympathetically.
'I love you, Andrew Charles Tait. And I admire you. Thank you for sharing all that with me.
You know, I've always felt a teensy bit unworthy because of the way things were until you rescued me. I haven't been jealous of your perfect life; just secretly ashamed of my own past.
It helps to know that you too have had your share of troubles and woe.'
'Yep' said Andrew. And then he began to laugh.
'Here we sit, Matthew - two miserable guys; used and abused and forced to occupy these comfortable chairs overlooking the pool at the rear of our own lovely beach-house. Two pathetic creatures crushed by the awfulness of life.
Would you like a beer? Or another coffee? Or a cognac?'
I laughed too and asked for a beer.
When Andrew returned, I told him I now understood why he was so dismissive of dick size.
'But I must confess, Andrew. When I say I love you, I mean you and every part of you. Your face, your laugh, your personality, your body, your voice, and - yes - your dick too. Is that OK?'
'Of course' he replied. 'I feel exactly the same about you. I'd love you just the same whether you had a twenty-inch whopper or three-inch weenie.'
'Do you wish your cock was smaller?'
'Don't laugh, but I do. I'm not actively depressed about it or ashamed, but I wouldn't be the least unhappy if it could be an inch or so shorter. Just enough to feel one of the crowd.
But it's not just my dick, Matthew. I'm stuck with these ridiculous balls too. When I'm an old man, they'll be rubbing against my ankles!'
Even though he was deadly serious, we both laughed at the thought of a senior citizen with chafed ankles. And then he told me more about his body-image problems.
'You know, I used to play baseball as a kid. Little League and then in high school. I wasn't all that good but I enjoyed it.
And then one day - I guess I was about thirteen - the coach came into the change-rooms with a wicker basket filled with jock-straps. He handed one to every member of the team, saying they were compulsory from that day onwards.
There was lots of laughter as we tried them on. There was even more laughter when the other boys spotted me.
Matthew, I simply didn't fit into a jock-strap. Not the junior one-size-fits-all jocks we'd been given. I kind of over-flowed in all directions. There was too much me and not enough pouch.
The coach told me I'd have to buy one from a shop. He suggested I get my old man to go with me.
We weren't prudish at home. I'd seen my father naked plenty of times, gone skinny-dipping with him, used the same change-room at the gym, all the usual father-and-son stuff. So I cornered Dad in the garage that night. I showed him the jock I'd been issued with.
I didn't need to explain much. He said something similar had happened to him when he was a boy. He promised to pick me up after school the next day and take me to a sports store.
Of course, the sales clerk was one of those guys who think they know everything. He thought he knew what the average skinny thirteen year-old needed in the way of support. Dad took him to one side and explained that I was not an average thirteen year-old.
Anyway, it turned out that jock-straps were available with a larger pouch, but the larger the pouch then the bigger the waistband. And the straps flapped loosely against my skinny shanks. Mom had to do some alterations to the two jocks we purchased.
I found it all a bit embarrassing. And I began to feel freakish; different.
I know most boys feel a bit freakish when puberty hits. You worry if you don't get pubic hair the same time the other kids do; you worry if your dick doesn't grow as fast or as big as the others; you hope your balls will drop soon so you can catch up with the others.
My situation was a bit different. I worried because the other boys never did catch up with me. I felt as though I was condemned to a lifetime of being stared at in change-rooms.
I told Dad I wanted to quit playing sport. When I told him why, he was very understanding, but he said I still had to do sport. He said everything in life helps us to build character, even being called "Meat" by one's school friends.
Of course, nothing stays secret for long in high school. Word gets around. One day you realise that girls are looking at you differently. One day you realise that the fast girls all want to see your cock; acquire it as a trophy - a bit like Martin does with foreskins.
This was the upside of being well-hung. I cheered up for a while. But, as the years went by, I grew very weary of being defined by my dick.'
'Some guys would be thrilled about that' I said. 'Especially in high school. But it's a bit shallow when you grow up and become a person - someone with personality.'
'Yes' Andrew said. 'That's exactly what it's like. You start to wonder if people like you for yourself.
I've never told anyone about this before, Matthew, but I once asked a doctor if there was anything that could be done. It was during a routine physical for insurance.
When we got to the drop and cough part, I sensed his surprise. And when I lay on my back and he examined each testicle and checked out my foreskin, I asked him if there was any way to reduce genital size.
He laughed at me. He said "Who would want to?" and "Why?"
I told him I'd heard of penis enlargement surgery, so I wondered if there was reduction surgery as well. He told me that there was no such thing and that I should just accept the way I was. He suggested - like you did - that other men might envy me.
He told me that there is a procedure where you get a scrotum tuck; that they can remove skin at the base of your sac so your balls ride a bit higher.
I was excited to learn that such a thing was possible. But he added that this was generally a procedure for old guys experiencing problems and that he couldn't recommend that I undergo unnecessary surgery. He saw it as a vanity thing.
It was all a bit humiliating. I think he thought I was crazy. Maybe I am.'
'I've never thought about it before' I admitted. 'I don't think you're crazy. I think you've become a bit paranoid; a bit obsessed with what you see as a curse. Others might consider it a blessing, but there are certain practicalities - like your search for a jock-strap.'
'Not to mention the stares and whispers' Andrew said. 'And the agony when you cross your legs or sit down carelessly and crush a testicle or two. That's why I prefer briefs. Boxers make it harder to manage things.'
We sat in silence for a while longer. Andrew peered at his watch.
'Jesus. It's almost 5am. Why aren't we in bed? You must be bored rigid.'
'I'm not in the least bored' I said. 'You've never unburdened yourself like this before. I appreciate your confiding in me. I feel I know you better than I did a few hours ago. And I love you even more than I did then too.
It's nice to be close physically, but it's nice to be close this way too. Soul mates.'
'Yep' he agreed. 'How about we take a shower and then come back to watch the sunrise?'
We showered separately. I think we were both eager to wash away any traces of Martin and Joseph.
After we'd towelled ourselves dry, we moved into a hug. We kissed and pushed our erect dicks against each other.
I turned Andrew around and pressed against his buttocks. I positioned my cock so it could slide up and down within his bum-crack. We were facing the hand basin and the mirror.
'Would you like me to continue?' I asked.
Andrew didn't reply. But he did lean forward and place one hand on the bench-top for support. He grabbed a jar of moisturising cream and passed it to me over his shoulder.
I slicked my hand with a considerable amount of its contents and applied a lavish amount to my dick.
Then I carefully inserted a greased middle finger into Andrew's ass. He was slowly jacking himself off as I did so.
I moved my finger back and forth for a while and then I introduced my index finger as well. It was tight in there. Tight and warm and inviting.
I heard a sigh. I checked in the mirror. Andrew's face smiled back at me and he nodded encouragement.
I slowly withdrew the fingers and positioned my dick at his arsehole.
There was a momentary resistance; I could feel his sphincter attempting to bar the entrance. I pushed just a little bit harder and felt my glans glide into him.
I paused at this point and checked out Andrew's facial expression. His eyes were closed. He didn't appear to be in agony. He seemed to be concentrating intently.
I have to say it felt wonderful to be connected in this way. As I gradually worked my way inside him - deeper and deeper - I luxuriated in the heat that surrounded my cock. And the tightness was turning me on big time.
I could feel flesh moving and clamping against me as Andrew continued to slowly stroke his dick.
I made no attempt to crank up the pace. I didn't want to speed things up. I was happy with a slow, steady rhythm.
'Are you OK' I asked.
'Mmm. Yes. It feels wonderful. Please push deep inside me when you blow. I want your cum to shoot upwards toward my heart.'
As we both approached the finish line, Andrew began to push back on me and his ass grew even tighter and more demanding. That was too much to bear.
I felt a wonderful and irresistible ejaculatory urge. I warned him that I was about to blow. He pushed backwards and I pushed forwards, penetrating him as far as I could. And then the jizz spurted out of me.
It was an incredible rush. For the first time ever, my juices were flooding Andrew's rectum. I stayed deep inside him until I was sure I had no more juice to deliver.
And then, with his hand flailing at the speed of light, I felt Andrew shoot his wad. His sphincter opened and closed with each spurt.
It was like a wicked shutter slamming down on the base of my shaft. It was almost unbearably tight. It was also gloriously intimate and erotic.
I don't know how long Andrew's ejaculation lasted. It seemed like forever.
I heard him gasping as each squirt hit the louvered cupboard doors below the hand-basin. I heard each splatter. I thought it would never end.
Afterwards - after I'd slowly withdrawn - we shared a gentle kiss. We were both smiling. And then, having surveyed the louvre doors, we both burst out laughing.
There was cum everywhere - some of it presented as large dollops of thick white jelly; some of it was of a thinner consistency and was descending in rivulets from one louvre to another; and a few translucent droplets had made it all the way downwards to the tiled floor.
'Boy oh boy' I said. 'That is one huge load.'
'Actually, Matt, it's more like two loads. I sort of blew twice. It was an odd feeling. I knew I was close. And I felt the usual feeling as it shot out of me, but then it kind of stopped for a while; I kept jerking away and then I felt the surge again; and this time it shot out even faster and it didn't stop until I felt completely drained and pumped dry. I've never experienced that before.'
'So I take it you enjoyed yourself' I said.
'In spades' he replied. 'What about you? I hope you didn't do it just to please me. I hope it felt good for you too.'
'Well, of course I did it to please you' I said. 'But I also did it because I wanted to. It just felt right.
Maybe I've been missing out all these years. It feels good if you love someone. It feels great to know my cum is inside you. It's like giving you the most intimate gift I have.'
'I hope you're not a complete convert' Andrew replied. 'It's something I might like to do occasionally - if you're in the mood for it too - but I'm still addicted to fucking you, babe. Is that OK?'
'Absolutely' I assured him. 'I'm addicted to having you inside me too.'
We both threw on track-pants and sweaters and headed for the patio, taking steaming mugs of coffee with us to take the edge off a cool morning breeze.
We remained silent as the first streaks of sunlight crept over the horizon.
'I want you to know something' I said.
'The first thing that anyone notices about you is how incredibly handsome you are, and how fit and how toned.
And it doesn't take long to appreciate what I nice guy you are.
Even when you're naked, I notice your face and your body first. Your dick is not as disproportionate as you think it is. It fits your physique perfectly. It's a bonus but not a distracting one.
Only jealous people and size queens are going to see you as a dick on legs.'
'You really mean that?' he asked.
'Yes. It's the truth. So be like the sky. Lighten up a bit.'