Have A Drink On Me
[Meta: In real life, this story (the whole series, not just this chapter) is the first fiction of any kind that I’ve ever written. I mostly write computer code, academic papers, technical documentation, or formal essays on one topic or another.
That said, the story is not entirely fictional! But even when trying to recount real events, I’ve been forced to write fiction, for the simple reason that I can’t recall events that happened 50 years ago to the level of detail you see here. For privacy reasons, I don’t want to get more specific than that—so please don’t ask.]
Sunday Morning, March 31, 1974
While Eric and I were eating the bacon and eggs breakfast that my mother had made for us before she had left for work, we were surprised by a knock on the door. So I got up from the table to deal with the interruption: It was Greg, Brandon and Misha.
“Hi John”, said Greg. “I know you weren’t expecting us. I hope this is OK?”
Eric came up behind me, and said, “Hi guys. What’s up?”
“Oh, hi Eric”, said Misha. “We were hoping we could…talk with you guys about what happened yesterday.”
“Having regrets?”, asked Eric.
“No, it’s not that,” answered Brandon. Interesting: He was the one who—yesterday—had been non-committal about the possibility of participating again in our sexual role playing.
“We were actually hoping that we could make it a regular thing”, Greg explained.
Eric wrapped his arms around me, then said, “John and I had a long talk about what happened yesterday. Twice, actually: Last night, and then again this morning. I think I convinced him that he should be OK with it, as long as I am, and that I’m OK with it as long as he is, and so…that means we’re both OK with it. Right, John?”
“You guys are just lucky that I like you”, I replied—with a big smile. “But don’t be standing outside. Come on in!” They entered, and we all took seats in the living room.
“Did you want to stick with oral sex, or give anal a try?”, asked Eric.
“Which do you like best?”, Brandon asked—clearly addressing Eric.
“It’s complicated”, answered Eric. “In general, I prefer oral. But on the other hand—and what a butt it is!—John’s butt is very tempting. Also, John and I only ever do anal when we’re here at his apartment; I can explain why that is, later. Our prime time for hanging out here is the weekends—when we can be here alone all day, without John’s mother here: She works weekends.”
“Sounds like we should give anal a try, then”, Greg commented. The other two nodded assent.
“OK then. Why don’t you guys decide on a scenario you’d like to try, while John and I get him ready for you guys?”, Eric proposed.
“What’s that about?”, asked Misha.
“Not making a mess”, Eric answered. “It’s not required, but it’s usually preferable for the one who’s getting penetrated to get himself cleaned using an enema”, he explained. “Especially if the one doing the penetrating is new to doing that, or just doesn’t want to deal with that shit”, Eric added. Oh Eric, you funny boy.
“The more you know...”, said Brandon.
“In Eric we trust—at least, when it comes to sex”, stated Greg. We all chuckled.
Eric and I left for the bathroom, and started our normal pre-anal-sex procedures: Cleaning the enema bag and applicator, showering, and then using the enema bag to get me ready for anal sex—after which, I showered again (briefly.) Then we both returned to the living room—totally nude.
Brandon, Misha and Greg were still discussing the role playing scenario they wanted to act out: Brandon was arguing in favor a scenario where a young man’s car breaks down, and the only option he has is to negotiate for help—from the mechanic who stops to help him—is to offer sex. Misha and Greg were favoring a prison scenario wherein a gang leader had a habit of making selected new inmates his bitch.
I realized that, until meeting Eric, that I must have been living a relatively sheltered life: I would not have been able to dream up scenarios like that. Eric and I listened to the discussion without comment for a few minutes, but then Eric asked a question: “Guys, important question: Both of those scenarios seem like they don’t have a role for me to play. Is that intentional?”
“Oh…Good point”, said Misha.
“Technically, John and I can do our own thing, without being involved in your scenario at all. And we can do our thing either before, or after, you guys do yours. I suggest we do ours afterwards”, Eric advised. “And the same is true for you three: You could each have your own scenario,” he added.
“Hmmm…”, said Greg. “The scenario that Misha and I prefer has the same problem: There are two of us, but only one prison gang leader.”
“Sounds like we should all just perform our own scenarios, independently, then”, said Brandon. The fact that, among the five of us, there were four tops, but only one bottom, was a critical constraint. Later in life, I discovered that the normal ratio of tops to bottoms—at least among gay guys—was not like that. Of course, Misha, Brandon and Greg never considered themselves gay—not then, and not ever. It should be noted, however, that there’s no law of nature that forces a term to have any particular definition; we’re all free to define the terms we use as we prefer. The term ‘gay,’ for example: Its original meaning had nothing to do with sex at all; it’s still used with that original meaning. That’s only possible because the meanings of words are just ‘social constructs.’
“And I just realized that there’s yet another issue”, said Eric: “The guy that does the penetrating—we call that guy the ‘top’—should do certain things to prepare the guy he’ll be penetrating—we call that guy the ‘bottom’—to be anally fucked.” After a pause, he continued: “But there’s no need to do that 4 times today, just because we’re doing 4 separate scenarios. Instead, I should demonstrate what I do to get a bottom ready to be fucked, before you guys even start your first scenario.”
“Welcome to Eric’s Sex University,” said Greg.
“I’m all eyes,” said Brandon.
“Me too,” echoed Misha.
“OK. John: Go get the Crisco”, said Eric. So I did.
“What’s that for”, asked Greg.
“Lubrication”, answered Eric.
When I had returned with the Crisco, I handed it to Eric, who then told them: “We’ll do this in John’s bedroom”, after which we all followed him in there.
On the way there, he again (as he had done yesterday) grabbed a towel from the towel closet, and laid it down at the foot of my bed. Knowing what to do—and already being nude, thanks to having gotten myself all clean, inside and outside—I laid down on my back, with my but near the top of the towel, and with my feet pointed towards the foot of the bed. Eric then walked up to the foot of the bed, got down on his knees, and then began to suck my dick.
“Whoa!”, said all three of our friends. At that, Eric stopped, and then asked, “Don’t you guys eat pussy before you fuck your girl?”
“Well, yeah…” answered Greg. “What? No!”, said Brandon. Misha made no comment.
“Well, it’s up to you. But the fact is, you’ll get better results if you do this. And you’ll be far more likely to get yourself a repeat customer,” advised Eric.
“I can attest to that”, said Greg. Brandon and Misha both looked at Greg like he had unexpectedly grown tentacles.
“You do have to be careful to avoid making your bottom come too soon”, Eric added. After which, he resumed sucking on my dick. I noted that our three friends were paying attention, although both Brandon and Misha looked shocked. Eric didn’t suck my dick for as long as he normally would have, though.
Eric then started to eat my ass. That elicited more gasps from our friends. Eric just ignored them, and did his thing—but again, not for as long as he normally would have. This was a demonstration of optimal procedure, not an actual attempt to get me warmed up.
Eric then put some Crisco on his fingers, and finger fucked me: First with one finger, then with two, then with three, and then with four. He commented that this part of the procedure was absolutely required. When he was done, he added that the next step would be to lubricate his dick with some Crisco, and then to actually start fucking ass. But he didn’t go that far—this was a pedagogical exercise, not an actual ass fucking that was about to be performed.
At that point, I had an idea: “Guys, it might help for me to give you a demonstration.”
“What do you mean?”, asked Misha. Eric also looked at me quizzically.
“I think I should eat your asses—just like Eric did mine—so you can understand the effect that that has”, I answered.
“But why? I can’t speak for the others, but I have zero interest in getting fucked”, said Brandon.
“And I have no interest in doing that to you—nor to anyone, for that matter. But trust me: You won’t turn down an offer to have someone eat your ass, once you’ve experienced it.”
“He’s right, guys”, said Eric.
“Do I have your sworn word—by whatever you consider holy—that you won’t try to penetrate my ass with anything?”, asked Brandon.
“Of course, dude. This is all for your benefit, not for mine. Nor would i do anything that would jeapardize our friendship. And that goes for the rest of you, too”, I said. I’ll just note that I had an ulterior motive that I didn’t mention: I hadn’t ever actually eaten ass yet, myself—and, inspired by Eric’s example, I wanted to give it a try.
“Go take showers, and get your asses very clean. And then you can just sit on John’s face”, Eric advised.
Brandon gave a big sigh, but then did exactly that. He loved it, and got very, very hard. Brandon’s only comment was simply, “I can see how that might be helpful.” While I was eating Brandon’s ass, the other two also took showers, and then came back to the room, nude.
First Misha—who had showered first—and then Greg, sat on my face, and I ate their asses, too. They both also got very, very hard. Misha observed that things were now making sense to him that he had previously found quite puzzling. Greg announced that, either his girlfriend was going to be willing to do that, or else he would find one who would be.
As for me, I found that I enjoyed giving my friends that sort of pleasure.
When all three of them were finished, Eric asked, “So, would any of you be willing to try that again, sometime?”
Greg immediately said, “Yes.”
Brandon replied, “Uh…yeah. Provided it was being done by a girl. Or by a guy I trust. Which—as of now—means John, and only John.”
“What he said,” commented Misha.
Eric then explained about the prostate gland, and why it was important to be hitting it with their dicks on each downstroke. He wryly commented that, to really understand, the guys would have to let him stick his finger up their asses in order to prod their prostate glands—but he didn’t expect they’d be willing to let him do that. They were not.
Eric then recommended that they could learn where it was by finger fucking me, so I could let them know when they had found it. “So, who wants to go first?”, asked Eric.
“Since Misha and I will be using the same scenario, Brandon should go second”, suggested Greg: “Otherwise, we’d be performing the same scenario twice, back to back.”
“I’m OK with that”, replied Brandon.
“Misha should go first”, I announced: “He’s the only drama student.” Greg gestured to Misha, indicating that he should proceed.
“Set the scene for me, Misha”, I said. “Oh, wait!”, I interjected, “Should we put our clothes back on, first?”
“Uh…yeah. Let’s do that”, he replied. So we both got dressed again, so that we could include subsequent undressing in the role play.
“So, John, we’ll start with all of us in the general population area, where you’ve just been released after initial processing into the prison. Eric, Greg and Brandon can be my chief lieutenants,” Misha instructed.
“But, you wouldn’t be able to fuck me out in the open like that, would you?”, I asked.
“No. But it’s where I can introduce you to who I am, and to the realities of prison life, and then make you ‘an offer you can’t refuse’”, he explained.
“So, after we have that conversation, we’ll have to have a scene shift?”, I asked.
“Right: As the leader of a major prison gang, I’ll have sufficient pull to get you assigned as my cellmate”, he explained. “Note that this won’t be the gang leader’s first time doing this: The guards and lower-level prison admins will know what to expect.” I wasn’t sure whether that that was how things really worked in prisons, but all that really mattered was that it was how things would work in the scenario in which we would be performing as actors. Fiction is fiction, after all: ‘Artistic license,’ and all that.
“I think I’ll just use that same setup, more or less”, Greg said. “Except, of course, that Misha will be playing one of my chief lieutenants.”
“So, I’ll be playing myself?”, I asked.
“Sure. Why not?”, Misha replied.
“And what about you?”, I asked Misha.
“I’ll go by the nickname ‘Top Cat’; I won’t be revealing my real name”, he answered.
“Sounds good. Seems like you should be the first to speak”, I suggested.
“Sure. Give me a minute”, replied Misha.
“Без проблем!” (“No problem!”), I replied. Misha smiled—he appreciated it, when I spoke Russian to him. That reminded me of the running joke between Morticia and Gomez Addams: “You know what you do to me when you speak French.”
The Curtain Rises
“Well, looky there: Fresh meat!”, announced ‘Top Cat’ (Misha,) looking at me with a predatory smile. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know the character’s name just yet, but the real-life me knew it already.
“Better than rotten meat”, I replied. That response just popped into my head. I’m pretty sure I would never had said any such thing in real life—not in the same situation, anyway.
“Oh, a wise guy. You’re lucky I fancy you; otherwise, you probably wouldn’t survive the night”, he replied.
“OK. I’ll bite: Who are you? And why wouldn’t I survive the night?”, I asked.
“They call me ‘Top Cat.’ That’s because I’m the leader of the pack, the gang boss of gang bosses: I lead the gangs in all the other prisons in the state, and in some of the neighboring states. And many of the street gangs, too. Many of the inmates are members of my gang. And they do what I tell them to do—or else. Even the guards fear me; they’ll usually look the other way, at least”, he stated. “Isn’t that right, boys?”, he asked those who were in the general population area with us (which, of course, was actually just Eric, Greg and Brandon.)
“Grovel, newbie—and maybe he’ll let you live, once he’s done with you”, said Greg.
“Ditch the attitude”, advised Brandon. “It’s not good for your health.”
“Facts are facts”, stated Eric.
“I see. What do you mean that you ‘fancy me’?”, I asked.
“Can’t you guess? This is a prison. There are only men here—no females. And I have needs. And you’re my type”, he stated.
“And if I refuse?”, I asked.
“I haven’t decided yet”, he replied. “I might just have a few of my thugs beat you to a bloody pulp. Or, perhaps I’ll just have you killed. Or, I might just have you put in restraints while you sleep, and then have my way with you. I’ll just say this: You’ll be far better off, if you just cooperate. I can be quite generous to those who cooperate, and don’t resist too much.”
“How would you be able to put me in restraints while I’m sleeping? How could you even have access to restraints as an inmate here? Or get inside my cell at night?”, I asked.
“Because the guards and I cooperate: I keep the peace; I get them things they want—and I don’t have them assaulted or killed, provided they’re willing to play ball”, he replied. “Look, I realize you’re a total newbie, and don’t know the score. So, here’s the deal: Just wait until this evening. All will become clear to you.”
Misha then nodded to Eric, and then turned away from me. That apparently cued Eric to announce a change of scene:
“What’s the next scene, Misha?”, asked Eric.
“The guards—Brandon and Greg—are escorting John to his cell for the first time”, said Misha. “As they are unlocking the cell door, Greg announces ‘Here he is, as you requested’—which is when John notices that I’m already in the cell.” So Brandon and Greg position themselves as though they are escorting me somewhere.
“OK. Go!”, said Eric.
“Here he is, as you requested”, said Greg (playing Guard#1.)
I pretended to catch sight of ‘Top Cat’ (Misha): “Holy fuck!”, I exclaimed. “You weren’t bluffing!”
“You’d best do what he wants”, advised Guard#2 (Brandon.) “We won’t interfere.”
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way”, ‘Top Cat’ advised.
I considered the idea of exploring how Misha would play “the hard way,” but decided not to go there this time:
“What do you want me to do?”, I asked.
“Get naked”, he replied. “And then lie on your back on the bed.”
I did as instructed. Misha took off his pants and boxers, fetched the Crisco, put a dab of it on his hand, and then proceeded to start finger-fucking me. It was not long before he was fully hard.
“Don’t forget to find out where John’s prostate is”, Eric advised him.
Misha started digging around in my asshole with two fingers, and said, “Let me know when I’ve found your prostate.” Initially, he was probing in the wrong direction (towards my back,) but then he reversed direction (towards my front,) and so was successfully prodding it. “There it is”, I told him.
Misha escalated to three fingers, and then to 4. Then he applied some Crisco to his dick, and placed his dickhead against my asshole. I realized that this would be the first time my ass would be fucked without first having been prepared by Eric’s complete “warm up” procedure. On the other hand, Misha was only about 70% as large as Eric, so I wasn’t overly concerned.
The initial penetration was not as pain-free as I had hoped, but also was not as painful as I had feared—in spite of the fact that Misha was not gentle: He thrust balls-deep in one quick motion, and then started power-fucking my ass. But he was doing a really good job of prodding my prostate, so I was very much enjoying it, in spite of how much smaller he was than Eric. Given that Eric had, until now, been the only one to have anally fucked me, I had been wondering about that.
It occurred to me that my ass might have been stretched so much by Eric, that Misha (and Greg and/or Brandon) might think it was too loose. So I tried clenching my ass muscles. That got an immediate reaction from Misha, who started saying “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck” over and over again, as he vigorously pounded my ass. I made a mental note to myself to do the same for Eric, the next time he fucked me. And also for Brandon and Greg, for that matter.
Misha came after about 10 minutes. Just like yesterday, he had lost so much muscle control, that he couldn’t walk. So, he just stayed inside me, while he recovered. After about 3 minutes, he finally dismounted.
I had come once also, just before Misha had.
The Curtain Falls
I put my briefs and pants back on, as did Misha.
“Brandon, you’re up”, announced Eric.
“Set the scene for us, Brandy”, I said.
Brandon looked at me funny—I assume, due to my use of ‘Brandy’ instead of ‘Brandon’—but he didn’t comment on it.
“You got it, Johnny”, he replied—I took that as his having decided he was OK with being called ‘Brandy’—by me, at least. “Your car is broken down on a highway—but not a freeway. It’s pulled off to the side of the road; you have the hood up, but have no ability to find or fix what’s wrong. I pull up in my van, get out of the vehicle, and walk up to you. We’ll both just be playing ourselves. And I actually do have expertise as a car mechanic, by the way. I’ll speak first”, he said.
“OK, go!”, said Eric.
The Curtain Rises
“What seems to be the problem?”, asked Brandon.
“Not sure,” I replied. “I’m not any sort of mechanic.”
“Well, I am. Mind if I take a look?”, he replied.
“Sure, go ahead. I’m a starving student, and can’t afford much. You can probably tell that, just from how old my car is.”
“Uh huh”, he said. He then went to the bed, apparently using it as prop to represent my “broken down” vehicle. After pretending to inspect what was going on under the hood, he announced: “I’ve found the problem: Your electrical wiring has been damaged—probably by rats. I can fix it temporarily, but it will just fail again—probably sooner rather than later. If you like, you can follow me to my shop, and we can make a deal for me to fix your wiring problem permanently”, he offered.
“Gee, thanks!”, I said. “I don’t drive much: I can’t afford to. I guess that encourages the rats”, I commented.
But then, I asked: “But it’s after closing time. Isn’t your repair shop closed?”
“It is. But for you, I’d be willing to do the work this evening—provided you accept the deal I have in mind.”
“I’m listening”, I said.
“First, I want you to know that this deal will be open to you not just now, but at anytime in the future that you need to have your car fixed”, he said.
“Oh, wow”, I said. “Now you’ve really got my attention”, I replied.
“Thought so,” he said. “So here’s the deal: You let me fuck you; I fix your car. The only catch is that, whether just one fuck will be enough will depend on the cost of any necessary parts, and on the amount of labor required.”
I just stared at him—trying to act as I would have in real life (or would have, when I was still a virgin who didn’t believe I was gay.) He waited for me to respond. I finally did: “Seriously? I don’t even know how to respond to that. I’ve never even had sex before! I don’t have any basis in actual experience to even have any idea whether I’d actually be willing to do as you ask”, I objected.
“How old are you?”, he asked.
“I’ll be 19, in January”, I replied. True—but in real life, it was the last day of March; I was still in high school, and I had only turned 18 less than 3 months ago. But I was pretending that it was next Fall, when I’d be in college, and supposedly driving a car—one that I didn’t currently have in real life.
“So, you’re 18, you’ve graduated from high school, and have been in college for 2 months, but you’re still a virgin? Why? How did you manage that?”, he asked. Brandon had picked up on my interpretation of the backstory.
“I just haven’t been interested in having a girlfriend”, I explained. “I have other interests.” As soon as I said that, I realized that it had an interpretation I had not intended. Brandon pounced on it:
“Other interests? Like what? Men?”, he asked.
“What I meant was, things like linguistics, foreign languages, math, science, political philosophy, epistemology, to name just a few”, I replied.
“And how much longer did you intend to wait before you lost your virginity? Do you just not have any sexual desire?”, he asked.
“No, that’s not it”, I replied.
“What, then? Do you secretly lust after men, but don’t have the courage to do anything about it? Or do you just have a small dick, and don’t think you’re sexually worthy?”, he pressed.
I decided to react to that as I would have reacted to such a direct, insightful, spot-on observation/question, before I had met Eric: I froze, like a deer in the headlights. Before I could formulate a verbal response, Brandon continued:
“Looks like that was a direct hit,” he stated. “Why don’t you just let me help you with both of your problems: Your car, and losing your virginity? You don’t have to worry about being rejected, and I don’t give a fuck about the size of your dick. It would be a win-win situation.”
I decided to tacitly capitulate, but without directly saying so: “If you fix my car first, I could just refuse to let me fuck you. But if I let you fuck me first, you could just refuse to fix my car. Isn’t that a ‘catch 22’?”, I asked.
He picked up on my capitulation: “So, now we’re just haggling over how to structure the transaction. Progress! But to answer your question: As a good faith gesture, I’ll temporarily fix your car, right here, right now. But then, we’ll swap vehicles: I’ll drive your car to my shop, and you’ll follow me in my van. That way, if your car breaks down again on the way to my shop, I’ll just fix it again. If either one of us were to try to drive off with the other’s vehicle, it would be reported stolen, so that would be a really bad idea: We could each use the vehicle in our possession to find out the identity of the other. Once your car is in my shop, I can put a mechanic’s lien on it: You’d be committing a crime to drive away with it, unless and until I release the lien. So that means I can just fix the car first, before you have to give me your ass. But once you’ve done that, then I’ll release the lien.”
That answer made me realize that there were a lot of subjects that, in spite of my being a polymath, I nevertheless didn’t really know all that much about. I also realized that the major cost to him of the proposed transaction was the parts and labor required to fix my car—and that once those had been expended, the additional “cost” to him of releasing the lien was trivial. It just would not be worth it to him to continue to get into a legal spat with me over the matter, at that point. And of course, this was all just a role playing skit, so…
“I guess I don’t have a better option”, I conceded.
“Scene change!”, Eric announced.
“Well done!,” exclaimed Misha. “Not bad! Not bad at all, for novice actors,” he added.
“It was like watching a play,” said Greg.
“You both did well,” commented Eric. “Suggestion: The next scene should start with Brandon informing John that his car has been fixed. I don’t know how long that would realistically take in real life, but for our purposes, we should just assume an hour or two.”
“Right,” said Brandon; he didn’t comment on how long he thought it would actually take fix the electrical problem he had pretended to have found.
“So, Brandon will speak first?”, I asked.
“Yes”, Brandon replied.
“Then, go!”, Eric instructed.
“Your car’s all fixed, John”, announced Brandon. “Time to pay up.”
“Where will we do this?”, I asked.
“On the mattress in my van”, he replied.
“Scene change!”, announced Eric. “You’re both now in the van; use John’s bed as the prop for the mattress.”
“Now what?”, I asked.
“On your knees”, he replied.
So I got on my knees (on the floor; I assumed it would be better to not use my bed for this part of the action.) Brandon walked up to me, took his dick out of his pants, put it up to my mouth, and said, “Start sucking.” So I opened my mouth, and started sucking on his dick. It quickly hardened to its full size (which I estimated was at least 7 and a half inches—and quite thick.) After a few minutes, he backed away, and instructed me to take off my pants and briefs, which I did. He did the same.
“On your back on the mattress”, he instructed. So I got on the “mattress” (my own bed,) on my back (and on the towel,) with my feet pointing towards the foot of the bed. Brandon then walked up to the foot of the bed, got down on his knees, and surprised the hell out of me by putting my dick in his mouth, and starting to suck it!
I decided to make no comment. Greg had no reaction, either. But Misha said, “I wasn’t expecting that!”
After sucking on my dick for a few minutes, Brandon stopped, then said, “I decided I wanted to know what that was like. What better dick to start with, than John’s? And I figure, if I can tolerate sucking a dick, I should be OK with eating pussy—which I’ve never done, but probably should start doing.”
“Huh”, was Misha’s response.
Brandon then fetched the Crisco, and proceeded to do essentially what Misha had done—except that he didn’t initially search for my prostate in the wrong direction—he prodded upward, towards my front, instead of downward, towards my backside. So he quickly found my prostate. Just like yesterday, Brandon had been paying attention.
Brandon then applied some Crisco to his fat dick, placed it at the entrance to my ass, and then rammed it home, balls deep, just like Misha had done earlier. That hurt—not as bad as the first time Eric had fucked my ass, but more than the initial pain I would now feel when Eric first penetrated my ass. From that, I learned that girth was a more significant factor in the pain of having your ass fucked than length was.
Brandon then proceeded to fuck my ass using forceful, powerful strokes—but not as frantically as Misha had done. He used fewer strokes per unit time. I absolutely loved it!—and not just because he was hitting my prostate. That’s actually how I learned that girth was also a more significant factor than length in the pleasure derived from having your ass fucked. I wondered whether that was also true for vaginal sex?
It took me longer than it should have—eight minutes, maybe?—before I finally remembered to start clenching my ass muscles. Brandon reacted to that instantly: He started panting and vocalizing, and also picked up his pace.
About 6 or 7 minutes later, Brandon finally came. This time—unlike yesterday—he, too, didn’t have the ability to stand up or walk for a few minutes, afterwards. Neither did I, actually.
The Curtain Falls
Once we were both able to stand, we both put our briefs and pants back on. It wasn’t modesty, it was getting ready for the next scene.
“Greg, you’re up”, announced Eric.
“Set the scene for us, Greg”, I said.
“Same as with Misha”, he said: “You’ve just been released into the general population. I guess I’ll also use the nickname he chose for his character: ‘Top Cat’”, he said.
“And you’ll speak first?”, I asked.
“Yep,” replied.
“Ok then, go!”, said Eric.
Instead of doing a play-by-play of the initial scene, I’ll just note that it was reasonably similar in its outcome to the first one, where Misha was playing ‘Top Cat.’ The significant differences in what happened didn’t occur until the second scene, in Top Cat’s (Greg’s) cell, so I’ll start with that scene:
The Curtain Rises
“Here he is, as you requested”, said Misha (playing Guard#1.)
I pretended to catch sight of ‘Top Cat’ (Greg): “Holy fuck!”, I exclaimed. “You weren’t bluffing!” I wasn’t feeling creative, so I just re-used the lines from before.
“You’d best do what he wants”, advised Guard#2 (Brandon.) “We won’t interfere.” Brandon was also just reusing his lines.
“On your knees”, ‘Top Cat’ (Greg) commanded. So, Greg had decided to do things differently. Modernly, I’m reminded of what has come to be called “The Mandela Effect”: It was a timeline shift (Heh.) Little did I know what was about to happen.
Things started out similarly to the equivalent scene with Brandon. I found myself sucking Greg’s dick. But then the similarity ended: Greg soon plunged his over-nine-inch dick balls-deep down my throat, and held it there—and then he began to piss down my throat. Thankfully, after about 30 seconds, he stopped pissing, and pulled out of my mouth. I had had to gasp for breath, after he had pulled out. But before I could say anything, or even consider what I wanted to say—if anything—he plunged back down my throat, and then resumed pissing. My mouth had necessarily been open, so that I could take deep breaths, after not having been able to breathe for half a minute.
During his second piss, I considered what I wanted to do in response. Firstly, I was surprisingly super turned on by what was happening. Secondly, I didn’t want Eric to know, because I didn’t want to get Eric upset. So, when Greg pulled out for the third time, I just continued to submit to him.
While the preceding was playing out, I started wondering why Greg was taking such a big risk: What if I had strongly objected? Eric would have been absolutely furious. So, I did what I had learned to when playing tournament-level chess: “Think Like A Grandmaster” (an actual title of a book on chess that I had read, and had found extremely helpful.) Specifically, I “played Greg’s side of the board,” by considering how I would defend “my” (Greg’s) actions. Answer: I would have claimed that, given my (John’s) willingness to eat ass, suck on a dick, and swallow cum, why wouldn’t drinking piss fall under the same category? It was not a difference in kind, only in magnitude.
Would Eric have accepted that argument? At the time, I wasn’t sure. But I did get the answer to that question, eventually. Just not that day.
Greg took 2 more 30-second pisses down my throat, and then pulled out for good. “Get naked”, he commanded. So I did—shirt and undershirt, too. He took off just his pants and boxer briefs.
“On your back on the mattress”, he commanded. So I laid myself down on the bed, in the usual position for getting my ass fucked.
He then walked up to the foot of the bed, got on his knees, and started sucking my dick!
“You, too?”, said Misha. Greg didn’t immediately reply: He was busy sucking.
After maybe three minutes, he stopped, and said: “I found Brandon’s reasoning persuasive.”
“So I see”, said Misha.
But then, he spread my legs, and started eating my ass! No one said a word, but I was thinking that he was attempting to compensate me for what he had done earlier. He had no way of knowing that that was not necessary. Not that I didn’t appreciate the sentiment!
After about another three minutes, he stopped eating my ass, stood up, put his dick up to the entrance to my ass, and plunged right in, balls deep. There was pain initially, but not as much as there had been when Brandon had done the same.
Greg proceeded to power-fuck my ass like a wild man. Was he trying to out do Misha and Brandon? Perhaps watching them had given him the confidence that I could take his fuck? Whatever the case, this time I remembered much sooner to start clenching my ass muscles. And Greg, for his part, did not forget to target my prostate. So we both had a grand old time: I came twice, before he finally did. It took him maybe 12 minutes.
The Curtain Falls
We both needed time to recover, before we could stand on our own. Greg’s technique was excellent.
Greg gave me a penetrating look. I think he was trying to judge how I would be reacting to the fact that he had forced me to drink his piss. I smiled and nodded at him, and then said, “You were fantastic, Greg”, I told him. I could see the relief in his eyes and face.
“I think we should give them a demonstration of how we do it, Johnny”, said Eric.
“Oh, you mean, like, right now? At the front door? No role playing?”, I asked him.
“Yep. I don’t think we have time for that”, he replied. I looked at the time, and saw that he was probably right. He already had his pants and boxer briefs off by then. He was fully hard already.
“I don’t think you need any prep”, he commented.
“I think you’re right,” I replied.
Eric took off his pants and boxer briefs, grabbed the Crisco, said “Follow me”, and then led all of us into the living room. I went to the front door, and then turned around. Eric walked up to me, and we started things off:
He applied some Crisco to his dick. Then, I jumped up onto him, using my hands on his shoulders for balance, and he caught my legs under the knees. Then, he used his hands on my butt to position me so that he could insert his dick into my ass. It went in quite easily, due to what Misha, Brandon and Greg had done to me earlier. Eric was not as thick as Brandon, for one thing. And I had been fully lubricated—not just with Crisco, but with three loads of cum.
Eric then pushed me back against the front door, and began to power fuck me at a faster pace, and more roughly, than he ever had before. He outdid any of the others. I could see their faces as they watched: They were slack-jawed.
As for me, I was incapable of coherent thought. I don’t even recall how many times I came, but it was more than 3 times. I didn’t have the mental focus to count how many times Eric came—but I did remember to clench my ass for him. When Eric was done, he just stood there, with his almost-eleven-inch dick still inside me, pinning my back against the door—we both needed that door for support.
“You have to teach us how to do that...”, Greg said.
“Hell yeah”, said Brandon.
“Боже мой!!!!”, said Misha.
“What did he say?”, asked Greg.
“He said, ‘Oh my God’”, I told him.
“Of course he did”, commented Brandon. “There isn’t much else to say…”
After that, we cleaned ourselves up (including showers,) made ourselves presentable in public, and cleaned up any messes we had made.
Eric and I informed Misha, Brandon and Greg that we usually had dinner on Sunday nights at Eric’s house, not here, but that they were welcome to walk to Eric’s house with us. All three of them declined: Tomorrow was a school day. But the initial part of all our paths was the same, so we all walked out of my apartment towards our destinations together.
The rest of the day passed normally. Eric and I eventually went to sleep in each other’s arms.
