Skippy Gobbles Cocksnot

Skippy Calls His Mom

I needed to return my mom’s call.

Mr. Grimes was behind me and I was needing him like a junkie needs a fix.

“Oooohhhhhhh! How’s my little baby doing right this minute, sweetheart?” Mom’s voice hammered in the earbud of my headset. Scott had a bud in his ear so he could listen in.

“I’m doing really, really well mom!”

 Mr. Grimes dick was rooting around in its favorite pussy hole.

“It’s so good to talk to my little man. Tell me how you are, Skip!

 Mr. Scott’s started long-dicking my hole, giving me the slow, smooth slide.

“I’m fine mom, everything’s totally cool…awesome!...Yyyeeeep!!”

The big man tapped my balls a few times.

“What’s the matter, little darling? What’s going on?’

“Urumm...nothing, mom! Well, that is, uh…ehr.. Mr. Scott said I’ve been working so hard that he thought I should relax a little, so he arranged for me to have a…a…a…well, I guess it’s a kind of seated  massage. You know, like a guy and a chair and a massage and everything.”

“A chair massage! Right there at the house! What a thoughtful gentleman young Mr. Grimes is. So handsome too! Shall I call back later, son?”

“No mom, I’m cool. I think things will just get busier later on.”

I was watching Scott play with my nipples, reaching around me from behind to stroke my chest, reach up and hold my throat and feeling it vibrate while I talked to mom.

“Well, Skippy, with Mr. Grimes being a rich lawyer and all, I bet he makes sure he gives you only the best. Right, sweetie?”

“Oh, yeah! He sure as hel…I mean, he sure as heck does, mom. He gives me the best a lot. It’s awesome.”

Scott was sitting on a desk chair with me impaled on his dick while he packed me like a steamer trunk. We were facing a portable mirror set in front of one of the big TV screens. I was staring at my red face and helpless body as it bounced on his thighs. He sneered at me from over my shoulder. Who knew sneers were so sexy? On the screen were video out-takes from “Skippy Gets His Pink Pussy Poked” and other house favorites.

“Scott licked my free ear and grumbled softly,”Tell her you’ve got my great big fucking dick up your ass and I’m going to make you squeal like a little girl, Pussy!”

“Uh…uh…uh…uh…uh…” My voice vibrated as Mr. Grimes punched fucked my guts.

“Well Skip, it sounds like that massage guy man knows what he’s doing alright. I imagine he’s really strong, isn’t he?”

“Yesyesyesyesyesyes..hehehehehe…isisisisisis, mom, you wouldn’t believe it!”

Scott rested a moment, reached across my groin and fisted my cherry red hardon.

“Do you know if you’re getting what they call a Deep Tissue Massage, Skip?”

Mr. Grimes smacked my abs right above my crotch curls – smacked them fucking hard and smacked them a lot. He smacked me right where his big knob gouged into my prostate, sending my fuck nut into spasms of joy. He pushed down slow and hard so his hand could feel the outline of his dick in my guts. I think it gave him some sense of ownership or something.

“Smacksmacksmacksmack…”

“Yeah…it’s…really…DEEEPPPPPP…MOOOMMMMMM!!!”

“Oh Skippy! You really are getting worked over, aren’t you? I’m so glad Mr. Grimes is seeing that you are taken care of. I’m so glad he’s caring for my little treasure!”

In my ear Scott muttered, “…and you’re hot little pussy!”

“Your father said he Skyped with Mr. Grimes yesterday and they had a nice little chat. They talked about old times, he said.  Seems they got up to some mischief years ago at a state championship and they were laughing about what a good time they had.

“Mr. Grimes told your dad that you’re being worked hard but that you been a really good boy about it. I was very glad to hear it! I wouldn’t want you to embarrass us, you know.”

“No mom, I’d never want to embarrass you and dad.” As luck would have it, just then the screen showed a clip of me diving down on Scott’s pole while he was Skyping  with my dad.” Scott chuckled in my ear.

“You know, you’re really lucky to be able to stay there in that house, especially since Mr. Grimes parents won’t be returning. It helps so much dear! We always seem a bit short on cash, and you know we sometimes have to stretch things a bit for you, honey?”

Scott stretched my legs apart as wide as they would go, using his knees to pry them apart and keeping me spread wide and helpless as I hung on his dick. My balls bounced around on his much bigger ones every time he rammed up my wide open rump.

“Yeah mom, I want to help with the stretching anyway I can. Stretching..uh..uh… is good.”

“Well, don’t worry Skip! Your father said that Mr. Grimes said he’d give you what you need. I’m so pleased that to hear it! And he’s so very handsome, as I said.  He must be a fine father too, I bet he’d be a really good daddy!” Scott’s signature smirk spread across his fine face.

He growled in my ear, “I’m such a fucking good daddy for my favorite faggot that I’m going to screw your pink twat until you puke spooge.”.

He  grabbed my balls and churned them in their sack, then stuck the thumb of his other hand in my mouth. I gurgled and sucked.

“You must be hydrating, darling! Be sure you get enough moisture now! Hard work in the summer can be brutal!”

Scott pulled his thumb out of my mouth, reached between us to wipe up some of the sweat off his chest, pick up some more off his dangling balls, then brought his palm to my mouth. God what a fucking great smell!

“Slurp, lick, lick.”

“That’s right Skipper! Don’t forget to keep your lips moist too, little one.”

My butt ramming stud ran his thumb down to the base of his cock, slid it through the wetness seeping from my honey hole, then reached up to run it across both my lips. It then slipped into my mouth for another nice suck.

“Oh Skip! I don’t want to keep you too long, since you’re obviously busy there. Remember baby, if you get home sick, you just let us know. We would understand. Well, I’ll say goodbye for now and let you enjoy the rest of your body work!”

“Bye mom!” I shouted hoarsely. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh.”

Scott grabbed my dick tightly in one blurring fist while his other shook my nuts like party dice. His dick was a drilling machine punching my twat on high speed.

 “Bye dear! Remember, you still have a home here, dear…you can be home any time!”

She was right about that, just not the home she was thinking about.

She clicked off. Scott rocked and snorted like a hog, then injected my guts with his hot white wash. My roughed up prick spouted like a fountain, my cum bubbling over his knuckles, down his balls and on to the floor.

“Glad to see we got you loosened up a little, Skippy! And so good to know that your mom approves of my body work.  I’ll bet she’d want you to tidy up now, wouldn’t she? You can start with my knuckles, then my balls, then my dick, then…”

Mom would have been proud of my clean floor too.

The Boys Learn To Appreciate Fine Dining

Humming along in the big Hummer, Scott drove (of course) and Brian sat in back. That let us boys sit to the side and lean over to give the men road head. Every time Scott would shift, his beefy thighs would harden under my throat and he’d bounce my head a couple of times on his dick and hold my head down on his meat.

I timed my sucking to the gangster rap blaring from the car’s big bass speakers.

“Whew, Brian! That was one of the best bets I ever lost. No problemo since I’ve got the big bucks. But it’s so worth it to buy dinner after seeing the look on your face when the hour was up. You and Josh were fucking depraved, man! He was perving on your unit like a crazy kid. It took him about two sucks on your knob before you blew like a pipe bomb! I couldn’t tell who wanted it more – him getting your nut in his gut, or you, getting to blow it in him! By the way, Josh looked soooooo adorable, going all Joshi-big-eyed-shit when you pissed down his throat. Made me hard as a pipe, the way his cheeks and lips worked to take it all in. Like a contented calf at the bull tit, I’d say. I think he’s got a major new memory there. I’ll bet you won’t be getting out of bed to take a leak ever again. Next time, though, I want to see you pissing in the toilet while he rims you. Wooohooooo!”

Scott slammed to a stop, dropped his window, pulled my face off his junk and yelled ‘Hey!” to the parking valet. The young guy was cute and oh, so interested.

“Yeah, dude,” laughed Scott. It’s a Hummer with my personal hummer inside. When I’m on the road, I like to really gun it!”

Josh and I put the mens’ dicks back in their pants, wiped our mouths and got out. Walking in front of them, we headed toward a huge restaurant. The guys each had a hand on one of our butt cheeks, squeezing and kneading, sliding up then slipping down inside to probe our pussy lips with a finger tip. Our sport jackets had high cut center vents in back so I guess it looked pretty much like they were just pushing us along.

“Gentlemen! Mr. Grimes, Mr. Stone…” The doorman grinned at the men and waved us in.

Standing in front of the maitre d’s podium, we waited only a moment. In that moment, Scott reached across my chest with his free hand and began to work my nipple through my shirt. The maitre d’ stared. He licked his lips. He adjusted his dick in his pants.

“Ahhhhh yes! Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone. It’s been far too long. I’m so glad you both are with us tonight. Mr. Edgers reminded us that you two were in his fraternity and that we should be sure to take very good care of you. I trust we’ve always met your expectations in the past! We have a semi private booth for you, not too near the stage. I hope you enjoy the evening. Thierry will be your server. Anything we can do to make your visit more enjoyable...please ask!”

Between Scott’s finger-fucking my hole and his pinching my nip, my face was hot as a light bulb. I could hear Josh squeaking quietly behind us. He told me Brian likes to palm my buddy’s balls and roll ‘em ‘til they sweat, then squeeze ‘em a while before having Josh lick the ball sweat off his hand. From the sounds Josh was making, the humidity in his trousers had gone tropical.

“I am Thierry, gentlemen. Would you and yours please follow me?”

The place was modeled on some famous Hollywood club from the past – all hanging draperies, art deco panels and mirrors. Pools of shadow - soft lighting. Quite the place! There were both booths and tables, each with an honest-to-god rotary phone and bowl of orchids. The waiter seated us in a padded booth along the wall, open on one side. We could see the stage where a jazz trio softly played old standards. Josh and I were seated together between the men as we all looked out into the room.

The other clubbers were all men of course. Well, men…and much younger men, collected in couples and small groups at the other booths and tables. A bar in back held five or so big guys who apparently had arrived solo. They gazed at us from across the room like a pool of sharks waiting for the blood to blossom.

While we waited for our drinks, Scott and Brian slowly made eye contact with most of the other guests, nodding, muttering hello, raising water glasses to acknowledge the silent toasts offered them. Their importance became ridiculously obvious. What in the hell was this frat, anyway?

“You boys loosen your ties and chill a bit. Yeah, really loosen them. That’s it,” said Scott. “Go ahead and pop a few buttons too, while you’re at it. Go ahead, we’re here to relax.”

Josh and I looked at each other. I don’t think we could have gotten any redder. Nervous sweat started to pit out our white shirts.

Eyes out in the room glanced at us, lingered a few seconds, then looked away. Lips smirked. Voices chuckled quietly.

“Better slip off your coats too, boys! You don’t want them mussed. Give’em here. We’ll hang ‘em on these hooks at the end of the booth.” Josh and I did as told. (Surprised?) We sat there nervously, half dressed in a room of predatory looking alphas and their pets.

Our drinks came. Double martini’s for the men, an angel’s tit for Josh and a pink lady for me. The men had insisted on ordering. Along with the libations were four little steaming towels on individual trays. We watched Scott and Brian to see what to do. They calmly freshened their faces, wiped their hands and dropped the cloths back on their trays. Following their lead, Josh and I picked ours up.

“Wait, little dudes!” Open your pants.”

Shocked (Jesus, we could still be so fucking shocked!) we popped our top buttons and zipped down, our junk falling out. Thank god for long table cloths!

The men grabbed our hot towels and plopped our dicks and balls. It felt SSSSOOOOOO FFFUUUUCCHHHIIINNNGGG GOOOOODD!!! The snickering and yukking from the floor sounded a little louder.

The men swabbed our junk, wiping our boy bags, pulling our dicks…dicks that so loved to be touched. Of course those dicks started to stand in gratitude.

“Our little buddies are beginning to enjoy themselves, I think.” Scott raised a hand and Thierry zoomed to our table like a bee to a flower.

“Sir?”

“Thierry, I think our table needs some personal attention. Would you please send over a couple of busboys? Extra service is required.”

“Right away, Mr. Grimes!”

They weren’t twins, I guess, but the two guys who showed up were damn close. Dark hair, dark eyes. Not so big… kind of like Josh and me and about the same age, maybe. Built though. They stood just behind Thierry, each with a crisp white towel draped over a cuff. They stared at us, their tongues peaking through their lips and scrubbing a little at each corner. Mesmerized, Josh and I managed to turn redder.

“These are James and John. How may they help, sirs?”

“Thierry, our young friends seem to have something missing about their place service.”

The maitre d’ raised both brows in question. “What? I see there are…, but no…what is missing sirs?”

Brian spoke up, “The little dudes don’t have mouths sucking on their dicks. Would you see to it please?’

“Certainly gentlemen!” Thierry clapped twice and the busboys backed up a step. He pulled one end of the table away from the booth and clapped again. “James, John, see to them immediately!” he commanded.

The two young men crouched and crawled under the table before Thierry moved it into place again.  Setting their butts on the heels of their patent leather shoes, they draped their towels across the top of our thighs – soft hammocks to hold our steaming junk. Then they began sucking. Oh-my-god could they fucking suck! As they slurped away, the phone in our booth rang.

Mr. Grimes answered, of course.

“Oh. hello Mark! I thought that was you over there. Hot looking piece you’re hauling around with you! Butt like a pumpkin. Bet it’s tasty too, eh?

“Our twinks? Yeah, they’re a recent acquisition and they’re working out really well. Sure…they’re pretty new to things but they’re coming along nicely. Really eager learners  - these two. What? Oh hell yes! Great idea! We’d be glad to share a little bit with the rest of the room. I’ll let Thierry know.”

Sipping our drinks while being sucked from under the table, Josh and I started to swoon a little, getting really relaxed. The two cock cobblers below were anything but. It sounded like a commercial dishwasher down there.

Scott whispered to our waiter who summoned Theirry. In turn, he snapped his fingers.  Another lackey immediately appeared and received instructions. Seconds later, the jazz trio went on break and the entire dining room went silent as the amplified sound of wet, sloppy slurping came over the loud speakers. Our table must have been mic-ed!

Dumbstruck, Josh and I stared out into the room as all eyes slowly turned to us and a follow spot picked out Josh and me – like a couple of young bucks caught staring into the headlights of an on-coming truck.

 Scott reached over and grabbed my nipple while Brian did the same to Josh. Some serious pinching pulling and twisting began, accompanied by our nervous whimpering. The room was quiet except for the occasional tinkling of ice in a glass and the amplified sound of our cocks being sucked. The sound of sucking got louder. Between Josh and me, there were five fingers on each of our balls, pulling, rolling, pulling, squeezing…prepping the little fuckers to give it all up to the wet sucking mouths. Our shirts were soaked in sweat.

 It was so fucking embarrassing. It was so incredibly hot.

Out in the room, the silence was broken by some intense, low conversation.

“A hundred bucks on the kid with the big round eyes…that he loses his load first!”

“Done!”

”I bet five hundred that the one with his mouth hanging open will scream like a girl when he creams!”

Low laughter and lots more betting ensued.

Josh and I were starting to lose it big time. We were panting, our boy bats were chewed and vacuumed by fucking pros. Scott and Brian leaned in to lick our ears and coach us with throaty whispered instructions.

“Come on Pussy! Give it up for Daddy, baby. Show Daddy your sex face.” crooned Scott in my ear. “That kid’s working for a big tip, and he’s got yours. Give it up, little dude. Feed that faggot. Make this fucking crowd happy…show ‘em how a cute little queer boy busts his nut. Cry and moan for ‘em, pussy! Blow out your balls for Daddy!”

I could hear Brian too, being a little firm with my bud. “Josh, you’re going to spit your cock slop down that kid’s suck pipe. Puke your balls in that mouth hole for me, baby. He’ll keep suckin’ ‘til you’re dry, then he’ll suck you some more. Your little man worm’s going to be one hurting unit before we can pry that love leach off your dicklet. You’re going to squirt so much pussy paste your eyes will cross. You’re going to fire into that hole ‘til you’re shooting blanks, and then you’re going to fire some more! Got that, you dick chasing little pussy?”

That put us over the edge.

An attentive silence filled the room.

Gotta admit that Josh went off first, and it sounded like he’d be going off for quite some time. Of course I screamed like a girl. It went on for what seemed like minutes. Finally we slumped, drained and exhausted as the men freed our nips, and the busboys sucked us into limpness. Then they gently dried our ‘nads with the linen towels. A really classy place. They zipped and buttoned our flies just as the waiter returned and poured glasses of prosecco for the table.

Warm but reserved applause filled the place. Scott and Brian lifted their glasses and nodded graciously at the acclamation. Thierry pulled out the table, the busboys backed out, wiping their lips on the funky towels and sneaking some quick licks at the remaining smears of jizz.

Out in the room, a lot of money was changing hands, accompanied by a lot of taunting and crowing.

“You’re entrees will be out in a moment, gentlemen. Is there anything else you require at the moment?”

“I think we’re fine for now. Thank you.”

Then the phone began to ring. It rang a lot.

Scott: “No, he’s not available. Well he is, but only to us tonight.”

Brian: “Yeah, I know. Don’t you love it when he gets that what-in-the-hell-is-going-to-happen look on his jock face? And then when he…”

For maybe ten more minutes, the phone rang off the hook as other diners called and chatted. People talked about us as if we were dishes on the menu. I guess we had been.

As the food arrived, the jazz trio came back from break and began playing. The busboys returned to spread Scott’s and Brian’s napkins on their laps. They picked up all the silver service from my place setting and Josh’s.

“You won’t be needing these,” was all they said.

The men were served thick chunks of filet mignon. Our plates each held a weiswurst – a sizeable, pale white German sausage made of tender young veal. I knew the feeling.

The men used their napkins, each picking up the end of a wurst and lifting it to our lips.

“Open!” said Scott. We opened.

“Down they go! Sorry you don’t get to taste them.” Scott and Bri shoved those things right down our pipes, straight into our guts. Fortunately, our experiences during the last week kept us from choking. Our throats were now quite adaptable.

“Button up, boys, and straighten your ties. Your second course is under the table. Chow down.”

Thierry returned to pour the Burgundy as we slid under the table. Knowing the drill, we lowered two zips and started sipping two dicks. We felt a draft as the front of the table cloth was lifted and gathered so the room could watch us at our work.

The voices began…

“I’ll bet you fifty that Grimes feeds his first.”

“I’ll take that bet!”

Time past. Bets were lost, bets were won.

Somewhat later, as we were finger feeding Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone cheese and figs, the maitre d’ returned for a last time.

“Gentlemen! The management greatly appreciates your being with us and sharing your young guests so graciously.  Dinner is on the house with my compliments.”

Overhead, we heard the men’s goblets clink in a toast.

I guess we’d found another way to our men’s hearts.