It's different, seeing Riley's face as he fucks me.
I mean, different layered on top of a whole damn heap of weirdness. Starting out with the fact that my body still isn't entirely convinced that I'm meant to have another man's cock pushed inside my ass, and the fact that I'm not hating the sensation might mean I'm not the entirely-straight guy I figured I was.
Then there's the part where my best friends in the world are sat around the room, watching me get my gay-fuck-cherry smashed. Harper just down the couch from me, with an expression of fascinated glee; Aidan across the room, his hand still pushed into his shorts. Clearly jerking off as he watches us with wide eyes.
Chance, my closest buddy of them all, is still slumped back against the arm of the couch. Chest heaving, his face red. I guess I can add "gives good head" to my resume. If that was, like, something I'd ever want anybody outside of this room to know.
His body might look wrung out, but his gaze is razor-sharp. Then again, Chance probably wasn't expecting to ever watch his best friend get fucked by his older brother. Were the roles reversed, I'd probably be pretty attentive, too.
I can't hold his stare, though. Not when Riley's smirk is so mesmerizing.
"You wanna tap out?"
I frown: at the question; at his raised eyebrow.
It sounds like he's being considerate, but I know it's not that. Not really. Because Riley has seen me argue before; seen how stubborn I can be, how that usually leads to massive, blow-out arguments with his younger brother. "Fucking pain-in-the-ass stubborn mule motherfuckers," he's called us, when we've been practically screaming in each other's faces. It's not lost on him, just how much I hate backing down.
His dick could be twice as long, and twice as thick, and I wouldn't tell him to stop. And the bastard knows that.
"Don't tell me that's all you got?" I top the taunt with a big grin, my mouth still slick with cum and spit.
His fingers dig into my hips, just a moment before he yanks me closer. Setting my eyes rolling back in my skull, as his cock spears deeper into my fluttering ass and I have to bite down on the yelp of surprise.
"What was the question again?" Riley asks, looking smug, when my panting settles down to something close to normal.
I try to smile back, but my lips feel like rubber.
Nothing to do but watch, then, and try to swallow my groans, as he shifts up onto the edge of the couch cushions. Knees perched where his brother was standing just before, and my body folding to accommodate him. Spine curving, my legs still pulled back and splayed wide, as Riley's thighs spread either side of my ass.
I can't allow myself to focus on the sensations radiating out from my hole. It's all too much, too intense; makes fingers and tongues feel two-dimensional. Monochrome, compared to the vividness of Riley's erection digging inside me.
He reaches forward, a hand gripping each of my pecs. Cradling the muscle like he's weighing out fruit.
"When was the last chest day, Lincoln?" There's a teasing edge to his tone, blended in there with the lust.
I've jerked off, thinking about groping girls' tits like how he's squeezing and playing with mine. Manhandling me, like so much dumb meat.
"Fuck off," I tell him.
Riley winks, and shifts his hips, and my vision blooms into staticky stars.
"Do... do that again," I manage to pant out, once my brain has tumbled back down from the stratosphere.
He chuckles, but obliges. Thighs scissoring around me, our sweat-slicked skin brushing and separating as he works his hips with admirable, frustrating, tormenting restraint. Pulling my insides in ways, directions, that I could never have imagined.
When he drops down, his face suddenly close to my own, I think for one terrifying, breath-catching moment that it's to kiss me. My brain hasn't really processed yet that Harper and I already made out; has shoved that memory to the side, until I can work through it at some distant point in the future. Ridiculous, really, that it's easier to think of it as Harper tonguing Chance's cum from my face, than of the two of us kissing.
Riley kisses guys, though. I've seen him do it, heard his verdict of my friend's technique. Can't even claim I haven't thought about it myself, what it might feel like. Doing it with all my buddies watching, though, feels impossibly intimate.
He doesn't try, and I'm not sure if I'm relieved at that or weirdly disappointed.
"You're so fucking tight," Riley murmurs, slipping his arms around my neck.
I can feel him bracing against me, using that hold to better lever his body into mine. Each stroke still slow and measured, the rasping friction sending uncontrollable shivers down my wavering legs.
"Shut up," I scold, somehow managing to blush even further.
Riley makes a face, amused. "Fine. How did my brother taste? As good as you imagined?"
I want to tell him to go back, that we should talk more about how well my ass is gripping him. Both of us know Riley was louder than he needed to be, were those words meant only for my own ears.
"I... I didn't..."
The urge is to turn, to try to explain to Chance that it's not true; that I didn't have some secret desire to blow him. Only I know just how convincing I could be, right now, and I know it isn't enough.
"He's still smeared all over your face." Riley interrupts my spiraling thoughts. "Lick your lips, Lincoln."
It's an order, not a suggestion, but maybe that distinction doesn't matter. Not when my tongue is already flicking out, lapping across the sticky goo still wet around my mouth, and the taste of Chance's load is freshly bright again.
I whimper, the sound choked with drool, as Riley digs into me. Deep and rough, the slap of skin loud even over my grunting and panting.
Wrapping my legs around him, I cling to his hips with my thighs. My hands finally liberated from holding myself spread, free to push my fingers through his hair. Twist them, watching Riley's lips draw back from his teeth and his eyes narrow, and then a moment later feel his pounding intensify.
It's hard to throw my head back, sandwiched like I am against the cushions, but I try it anyway. Riley's tongue on my throat in an instant, his lips brushing along my jawline. Nuzzling in, his heat a physical, tangible thing as he long-dicks me in earnest.
I should feel mortified, or ashamed, or embarrassed; I know I should. Self-conscious to be seen like this: whining and sweating, gasping as another man turns me out so thoroughly. Exposed to my closest friends in a way none of us would ever have expected, an intimacy that makes jerking off while they're in the room seem like nothing.
There's a part of me that wants to know what they're thinking, what thoughts are crowding their heads as they watch me get plowed for the first time. Like when we're all playing some video game, the room loud with taunts and abuse, even if this would be a very different sort of narration.
Riley has to fight my hold on him, to sit up again. There's something proprietorial in the way he stares down at me, in how his eyes track across my limp body. Lips twisting, the amusement clear, as he looks at how I'm stretched around his thickness.
"How many fingers did you take, the other day?"
I could scream, at how fucking casual he is, at how easily he spills my secrets. It's only a gasp that comes out, though, as he punctuates his question with a twisting jerk of his hips. Gouging his cock into my tender ass in new and overwhelming ways, as my hands scrabble desperately at the couch cushions.
"Lincoln?"
My name sounds like a taunt, the way he says it. A taunt and a threat; a warning, of greater and more debasing pleasure.
"F-five," I manage to gasp out. My tongue feels thick, too big for my mouth, and for one distant and dizzying moment I imagine myself as a dog, panting and drooling. Tongue lolling out, brain reamed into sub-animal lobotomy.
"So... sloppy," Riley taunts, and I hear Aidan's snort of laughter from across the room.
Riley looks back, over his shoulder. Not like he'd forgotten our audience, I'm sure of it, but now the potential to play to it is clear.
"I mean, come on, look at this fucking hole," he says, amusement dripping in his voice, and a moment later I realize Aidan took it as an invitation. Crowding in behind the man screwing me, peering over his shoulder at my sweaty body.
"Fuck..."
I'm pretty sure Aidan doesn't realize he said it out loud. His eyes wide, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Probably doesn't even realize his hand is moving, either; his arm reaching around Riley's body, until his fingertips can brush my well-stretched muscle. Tracing the heft of Riley's cock where our bodies meet.
"Damn, bro, your hole's gonna be fuckin' ruined," Aidan says, with a catch in his voice.
I don't know if my groan is in dismay, or from some weird, shared arousal. Aidan sounds more fascinated than disgusted at the prospect.
"Such soft hands," Riley teases.
Aidan shoves him with his shoulder, grinning. "Go fuck yourself."
Riley smirks down at my sweaty, splayed-out body. "Can't I keep fucking him, instead?"
I can't stop from shuddering, at the way they're talking about me. Some weird ripple - not quite horror, not quite delight - at being objectified like this.
There's a slap, that pretty much has to be Aidan smacking Riley on the ass.
"Get to it, then," my friend instructs, and Riley doesn't hold back.
They're the long, deep, faster strokes that I was desperate for - my brain driven half-mad from that measured, taunting pace - only I can't help but wonder if I've demanded more than I could handle. Too ambitious, anyway, for my first time. Horniness overwhelming reality.
I reach for my dick, only to have my hand knocked away.
"Play with your nipples," Riley demands.
My fingers are on my chest before conscious thought catches up. Rolling the hard nubs of flesh between my fingertips as my body rocks from his urgent thrusts. Remembering, as if in a daze, the expression on Riley's face as he'd groped at my pecs. How he'd throbbed even harder inside me as he squeezed.
"You like muscle?" My voice sounds different to my own ears. Ripe with something I can't put a name to.
He licks his lips. "Fishing for compliments, Lincoln?"
I recognize the mocking tone, but there's more there, too. An edge that reminds me of my own struggling attempts to keep my head. To retain some semblance of control, even as the pleasure throbs through me.
Pawing at my own chest, I watch his eyes glaze. Feel Riley's fingers tightening on my hips.
"I already told you you're hot."
I grin up at him. "So, tell me again."
Harper snorts.
Riley shakes his head, but I can tell he's entertained.
"Fine. You're a hot, dumb straight boy, with more dick and ass than he knows what to do with."
"All that's meant to be a compliment?"
He grabs me behind each knee, shoving my legs up until they're almost pressed into my chest. Leaning forward, sandwiching my folded body beneath him; letting gravity help fuel each deep stab of his cock into me.
"It's getting you laid, isn't it?"
More than laid, I want to point out, only his weight on me is barely allowing me to gasp in each shuddering breath, never mind speak. My eyes rolling back, as the friction builds inside me. Gradually paring away everything that isn't my ass, and my cock trapped between my thighs and rubbed - enough to torment but not to drive me over the edge - and the growing sense that maybe Riley's right. Maybe everything that's important about me is just cock, and ass, and muscle, and it took this hard, relentless slam-fucking to make that clear.
"D-don't stop," I manage to grunt out.
His sweat is dripping down onto me, and I can smell us both: the haze of musk as Riley pounds away. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, forehead creased with focus. Teasing beyond us both, now, our bodies reduced to single-minded rutting as I try, and fail, and try again to squeeze around him.
And I know how this ends, too.
We both do, Riley and I, we both know he's not going to stop until he cums, and we both know he's not going to pull out before that happens. Intends to breed my ass, just like his younger brother flooded my throat with his own load not all that long ago.
They've always been competitive, fierce rivals: I can't help but wonder if Chance is pissed, that his brother got to be the one who creamed my hole first. The very idea of it so ridiculous, and unbelievable, and incredibly fucking sexy, that for a moment I wonder if I'm about to spew hands-free. Flood the hot, sweaty gap left between us, like some hair-trigger kid looking at porn the very first time.
Best friends shouldn't think about their best friends that way. Then again, best friends shouldn't watch their best friends get screwed by their own brother. Nothing about this is normal, or logical, and when you shove all that aside, all you're left with is the question of whether it feels good or not. And, fuck, it feels so good.
Hand shaking, I reach up and brush my fingers across Riley's lips. Trace the contours of what's very nearly a scowl, the heat of his skin equally fierce, and then push in: his mouth grudgingly accepting my probing digits, sucking on them instinctively as I grip his chin and feel his tongue snake around me.
It means I feel the fresh tension in his jaw, first. Know, with clarity that pierces through the newness, the strangeness of all this, that Riley's reached his point of no return.
His hold on me tightens, fit to bruise, his hips slamming down with a rhythm that can't quite seem to steady, and now I can feel him thicken inside me.
Riley's grunt as he cums reverberates past my wrist, and each jagged thrust of his hips seems determined to bury himself as deep in me as he possibly can. Holding there, eyes narrowed and cock throbbing, and then the texture of my insides shifting - growing slicker, slimier - when he finally drags himself back again. Churning his own load in my well-fucked hole.
Nothing graceful in the way he topples off me, though I'm too busy silently howling at the strange sensation of his dick pulling out of my ass. Hyper-aware of the way my erection feels fit to burst, like the merest of grazes would set me off, and of my friends' eyes on me. Expressions of fascination, and lingering shock, and something more there. Something beyond my dazed, overwhelmed capacity to understand.
Riley staggers back, bumping into Aidan and then letting himself be steadied. Slings his sweaty arm around my friend's shoulders, his gaze raking across me.
I watch him, through the gap in my gradually flopping legs, as he strokes a hand down the slick of cum and sweat that glistens on his half-hard dick, then shoves that hand into Aidan's tented shorts. Riley ignores the yelp of surprise, apparently more interested in jerking my friend off with the remnants of our fuck.
Aidan's eyes are wide, when he looks at me. His face almost comical in its shock, though no way not to notice that he's not pulling away from Riley's firm strokes.
"Suck his dick, then," Riley says.
For a moment, I think - assume - he's talking to Harper. Consider turning, even, were the muscles in my neck in any fit state to make moving a possibility, to look down the couch at him. Only Riley isn't looking in that direction.
"Fuck you," Chance snaps back, hotly.
I want to think I was drooling precum like a leaky faucet before Riley put the idea of my best buddy slobbering on my inches into my head. The alternative would just be another level of wrongness.
"You've thought about it."
Riley somehow manages to say that, to make it sound reasonable, even while he's jacking off Aidan. The dick-drool stain on the front of Aidan's shorts is huge.
Chance glowers at his brother. "You're not fucking serious."
"He sucked you."
My friend's eyes narrow. "Yeah," he snaps, "but he's..."
Riley cocks his head to the side. "He's... what?"
It's an excellent fucking question. I'm kinda interested to hear what Chance's conclusion actually is, because I'm screwed if I know the answer myself right now.
The silence drags out.
"I couldn't, not with everyone watching," Chance whines.
Riley's stare is unblinking. "It's hotter, with everyone watching. You know that."
Chance is biting his lip, his eyes flickering between me and his brother. I want to say something that'll make it easier, make him feel better somehow, but our friendship - strong, and long, and intense as it is - lacks those words.
"Fuck it, I'll do it," Harper announces, shifting at the other end of the couch.
"No!" It comes out with an urgency that seems to surprise even Chance, despite his own mouth being responsible. He looks at me, holding my gaze this time rather than his stare sliding away awkwardly.
I shrug, because it's not like I have a fucking clue, either.
When he shakes his head, it's so much like the "I can't believe you got us into this bullshit" gesture I've seen thousands of times from him growing up, I can't help but grin.
Chance doesn't see that, though. He's too busy leaning down, one hand wrapping around the base of my rigid prick to hold it steady, as his soft lips engulf the tip.
He's not exactly gentle. My stomach clenches from the intense swirl of sensations as he sucks on my cockhead; I'm pretty sure my abs are going to end up aching like the morning after a triple set of crunches. When I start to whimper and squirm, Chance reaches his other hand up and clamps it across my mouth.
He doesn't stop sucking, even as Harper moves down to join him. Spreading my legs, as best he can with Chance's bobbing head in the way, and then my view of him is obscured as he dips down. Only understanding his goal a moment later, with the rasp of his tongue across my hole.
There's nowhere to go, no strength in me to overcome Chance's hold on me and twist away, and so all I can do is clench my jaw and try not to squeal into my best friend's palm as the two of them work me ruthlessly. Just when I think the sensations of the mouth on my dick are too much, too incredible, Harper jabs his tongue into the cummy, sloppy depths of my ass, and the ranking inverts.
Weird, then, that it's looking up and seeing Riley and Aidan making out which is the final straw. Riley's fingers gripping the back of Aidan's head tightly, an intensity matched by his stroking hand and their hungry kiss.
With Chance covering my mouth so tightly, I couldn't warn him what was coming even if I wanted to.
And then the orgasm is ripping through me, like my whole body is being seized and wrung out. Every muscle spasming, and a sensation like my balls are trying to turn themselves inside out as I unload into my best friend's mouth. Fighting his grip on my shaft, and Harper's hands pressing my thighs down, as the riot of pleasure accelerates with near-terrifying inevitability into the hyper-sensitivity I know comes right after.
Just when I'm considering punching Chance in the side of the head, or whatever it might take to dislodge him, he lifts off me. His cheeks flushed and his mouth hanging open; my cum drooling out in thick, creamy waves across his bottom lip and down his chin. Splashing down onto my crotch and Harper's face pressed between my cheeks.
"Fuck." The curse escapes Chance like a gasp.
I drag my eyes away just in time to see Aidan shuffle forward. Shorts pushed down, now, cock bare in Riley's stroking fist, and then a moment later he's spraying cum across me. Bright white as it criss-crosses my chest at first, and then the final dregs landing on Harper directly beneath him.
A good guest might worry about getting bro-slime all over his host's couch, but honestly I'm more concerned with getting away from the tongue relentlessly lapping another dude's load from inside my ass. My body rebelling, unable to handle even a moment more of this storm of sensations.
I drag myself away, to slump down against the sofa's arm. Every nerve-ending in me fizzing like a shook-up beer can. Watching, through blurry eyes, as Riley casually wipes his sticky hand on Aidan's shirt.
Harper's grinning at me, the bottom half of his face a wet mess and Aidan's cum hanging heavily in his hair. Aidan himself looks dazed; I'm pretty sure it's now Riley that's keeping him upright, their roles reversed.
I know I should look at Chance, next. See what expression might be on my best friend's face; how deeply fucked everything has become. Only I'm scared to. Terrified of shattering this fragile moment, and having to acknowledge not only what we've done, but how it'll affect everything moving forward.
It's Chance's grunt of displeasure that makes me look around eventually. Just in time to see him wiping his mouth across the back of his arm, leaving behind a long streak of spit and cum.
He flashes Harper a skeptical look. "You actually like this stuff?"
Harper shrugs, still grinning. "It's an acquired taste."
Chance shakes his head, then turns his glare on me. "You could eat some fucking fruit once in a while, asshole. Jeez."
I can't copy Harper's shrug, because my muscles still aren't responding properly, but I try anyway. "Sorry."
He rolls his eyes. "No, you're not. You're never sorry."
We both turn, at the hiss of a can opening. Riley holding out the beer to his brother, who stares at it suspiciously for a moment.
Just as Riley snorts, and begins to pull his hand away, Chance grabs the drink and flops back into a sprawl on the couch.
"Harper didn't cum." Aidan sounds dazed, like he's surprised to hear himself make that observation. Or, really, like he's surprised he could manage to form words at all.
Riley nudges Harper in the ass with his foot, earning himself a glare. Only a playful one, though, and I can tell - even with my vision still kinda blurry - that they're both getting off on this screwed-up dynamic they apparently have.
Harper lets himself get dragged to his feet, but Riley doesn't stop there. Deftly begins stripping him - t-shirt first, dragged up over his messy face and leaving his hair in tangles - and then his pants, too. Until he's standing there, butt-naked and dick rigid.
I don't know if it's because it reminds me of when a mom cat picks her kitten up by the scruff of its neck, but there's something almost tender in the way Riley laces his fingers through Harper's hair. Like he knows he can't rely on the younger guy doing what he really wants to do, and so he has to be guided, instructed. Given permission, even.
Harper doesn't make any move to escape, though I can tell the hold on him must be pretty hard. Actually, the way his cock is twitching, it looks like he enjoys being treated like this.
"You like muscles, too, don't you?" It's a question, but one Riley clearly already knows the answer to.
Harper's lips part. He's staring at me in a way that makes my skin prickle; that leaves me wondering just how often, over the years, he's looked at my body and had thoughts my own brain couldn't even start to imagine.
"Lincoln doesn't mind if you touch," Riley continues, "do you, Lincoln?"
It's a relief, somehow, that all that's required of me is to shake my head.
He shoves Harper forward, sending his smaller body toppling down onto mine. My arm catching him at the last moment, pulling him to me.
If I didn't notice the wriggle that passes through Harper's whole body, the little gasp he can't hold back would be enough of a giveaway that he likes this. Practically squeaking, when I squeeze him even tighter.
"You been wanting to feel me up, dude?" I don't know if he's trying to turn, or pull away, or what, but there's something intensely pleasing about hugging him to me. Overpowering him, Harper's smaller and more wiry strength paling compared to my own.
The noise that comes out of him is somewhere between a gurgle and a moan.
Speech may be beyond him, but Harper's hands seem to know what they want. Fingers swarming across me, like he can't decide where to touch and so can only attempt to brush, and stroke, and paw at every inch of me that he can reach. Something worshipful in there, amid the desperate hunger, enough to make it clear that this isn't just interest but fascination.
I hook my arm around his neck, my bicep pressing into his throat. Harper's back arching when I tense the muscle, though he's making no move to pull away. His hands groping me mindlessly, instead, as I reach for his straining cock.
It's like wrestling something wild, an animal. Pinning him against me, Harper squirming as I roughly jerk him. After Chance's mouth, and the orgasm he drove from me, I didn't think I'd get hard again for a week, and yet something about Harper's clear loss of control - about knowing I'm the cause of it - has me rigid again. Throbbing, as I imagine what it'd be like to flip us both over; to pin my friend beneath me and plow him with the brutal efficiency I'm pretty sure now that he's fantasized about.
My brain isn't capable of such thoughts, not right now, anyway. Can't process them, can't understand these new and shocking discoveries about the people I thought I knew so well.
It doesn't matter, though. Not with Harper producing the choked, frantic little sounds that makes it entirely clear he's about to spew in my hand. His dick so hard in my fist, but barely a moment to acknowledge the depths of his arousal before I feel him convulse.
The spray of it reaches my arm, still tight around Harper's neck, as I crush him against me. Smelling the sweat and fresh cum, thick and heavy as fog across us, as his muscles soften by degrees until he's merely slumped atop me.
I loosen my arm, returning Riley's grin with a somewhat dazed one of my own. Thinking, again, about the hints he's dropped; the things he's suggested he and Harper have discussed before. What, exactly, my friend has been secretly wanting to do with me, and then no way not to wonder whether what just happened was somewhere on that list.
I flinch, thoughts scattering, at the cold against my elbow. Jerk my head around to see the beer can in Chance's outstretched hand. His expression behind it blank, practically unreadable.
It's either a peace offering - a we're-all-good-here-bro reassurance - or it's the condemned man's last treat, and I really can't tell from my best friend's expression which of the two he has in mind.
As always, thank you for reading, and for your comments and ratings! I have a mailing list - it's free to sign up, and you get a free short story in the process - if you want to get a very occasional email about my latest writing. If you're interested, you can sign up at my site, as well as find links to all my other stories...
