His smirk returned. “Maybe I should charge you.”
My tone took on an edge. “Bring that ass up here,” I ordered.
Parker kept his defiant smirk in place, but pulled his knees toward his chest, bringing his ass sunny-side up. A furry valley divided his hard, round cheeks, and at the base of that valley, almost hidden in the forest of curly hair, was a tight set of tan lips with just a hint of pink at the opening. I wet an index finger and traced his cinched-up ass-ring, feeling the sphincter throb to my touch. Parker protested, making another halfhearted attempt to assure me he was straight, but his cock, twitching and drooling against his abs, begged me to continue.
My tongue followed the path of my index finger, gently circling Parker’s hole, teasing the opening. He made a noise that was part giggle, part sigh. With the tip of my tongue I pried open his asslips, worming my way into his chute. Parker’s deep groans urged me on, and I continued burrowing into his hole, fighting his contracting sphincter for every advance. I used my fingers to stretch his hole wider, exposing more of the dark pink entryway. I buried my face in that trench, luxuriating in the feel of his crinkly hairs against my face and the smell of his musk, and flicked my tongue into that entrance. I quickly became less delicate, stabbing into his chute in hard, decisive plunges, pausing only to nibble at his ass-ring.
Parker was no longer moaning and groaning; he was howling. When I finally came up for air, he had the slack-jawed look of a drunk. His bobbing cock was leaving snail trails across his stomach. My spit was coursing down his splayed ass and dripping onto the bedspread. His butthole puckered as if blowing me a kiss. It was a kiss I wanted to return, but I wanted something else more.
The devil peeked around Parker’s dick, grinning conspiratorially.
I hooked my hands behind his knees and leaned into him, my stiff cock sliding between his moist asscheeks. Letting his legs rest on my shoulders, I moved quickly to secure his wrists. Parker squirmed beneath me. “Naw, naw, naw,” he said, jerking his head from side to side. “No way I’m lettin’ you fuck me.”
“I’m not fucking you,” I said calmly. “Just rubbing against your ass, is all.”
“Don’t care. You’re not—”
I grabbed his cock. That shut him up.
“That’s it,” I hissed, pressing my cock into his wet crack. “Just shut up and enjoy it. I’m making it fun for both of us, like you wanted.”
I pulled on Parker’s prick, simultaneously grinding against his asshole. With each stroke his cock would pulse in my fist and dribble out more precum. My cock was pulsing, too, and it took a lot of effort to maintain a slow, steady pace, to not hump that ass until I shot my load, though each slide through his sopping trench eroded my self-control.
Parker was even closer, grunting like a rutting pig. His eyes were half closed, his lips pulled back against clenched teeth. Any second he’d be covering his bulging muscles with cream.
What happened next wasn’t a conscious decision on my part. I thought about it, sure, but only as fantasy; not something I expected to happen. I did not think that Parker, because he was so close to coming, would fight me, and therefore this was the perfect time to strike. No, when my cockhead pressed against his asshole and wedged those rubbery lips apart, it was purely by accident. When I kept pushing—well, that was intentional.
Parker launched into a sputtering protest. He tried to push me off him, but I still had his dick in my hand, stroking him into submission.
“Easy, we’re almost there,” I cajoled, inching my way a little farther into his ass. “Don’t fight it, just enjoy it.”
His response was a string of unintelligible noises, forced from between gnashed teeth. His face was red and his eyes crazed. His hands went to my throat.
Parker’s grip wasn’t tight enough to kill me, but it was making me light-headed. I fought back with a sharp stab, impaling him on my steel-hard cock. We cried simultaneously, he from the shock of penetration, me from the rush of pleasure of sinking my dick in his tight hole. Parker’s hands went slack around my neck; his cock stayed hard in my hand.
The rage in his face twisted into an agonized expression. A deep, jagged roar filled the room as he came. His cock painted thick, white stripes up the length of his torso; a splat of splooge even hit his stubbled chin. If he were a boyfriend or a trick, I’d kiss that splat away, but Parker was neither. Kisses were out of the question, but I had nastier answers.
I raked a hand across his cum-stippled torso. “You ever taste your own load?” I chided, thrusting into his chute for emphasis.
“Fuck you.”
I found his retort funny, given that my dick was still buried up his ass. “Of course you have,” I went on, bringing my loaded hand toward his face. “Now I want you to taste it again.”
Parker slapped my hand away. “You want it so bad, you eat it.”
Chuckling, I looked him in his wild eyes and put my cum-coated fingers in my mouth, noisily sucking them clean. The taste of his spunk was almost as satisfying as the shocked expression on his face. “You freak,” he gasped.
“You should try it,” I said, patting the side of his face with my sticky hand. “You taste much sweeter than you look.”
He called me a faggot. I laughed, stroking his sensitive dick. Parker thrashed and begged me to stop.
I fell on top of him, my body moving like a wave as I pumped his ass in steady thrusts. It was a gentle fucking, all things considered. Each time I jabbed my cock into his chute I told him it wasn’t the savage pounding he deserved. “This is nicer than what you’d get in prison,” I snarled. And then I roared, my body jerking violently with each heavy spurt fired into Parker’s hole.
The stillness that followed, when we lay together in a spent, sweaty heap, was brief. “Get the fuck off me,” Parker snapped, simultaneously pushing me away and rolling to the side. My cock popped unceremoniously from his ass. My load leaked out of his hole and onto the bedspread.
I sat up and waited, anxious about what Parker would do next. He lay there, facing the wall, brooding. Then he stood up and stretched. The sinking sun cut through the blinds, glimmering against his skin. The devil now looked at me from behind a milky veil of cum.
“Need to take a shower,” he said. On his way to the bedroom door he stopped, bent down and picked up my wallet. In seconds he’d removed the bills from it and tossed it onto the bed. “Lucky I don’t take the credit cards.”
“You mad because I fucked you or mad because you liked it?”
After a beat, Parker said: “You won’t tell Shayla?”
“You think I’m stupid?” I chortled, shaking my head. I felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of my niece’s name. Parker’s betrayal seemed a given; mine was not so easily dismissed.
“Well, try and fuck me again and I’ll kill you.” His lips then pulled into a lopsided smile. “But you can eat my ass anytime.”
I stared at the bedroom door several seconds after Parker left, his parting words and pert butt lingering in my mind. He was trouble and it was stupid to let him stay. I knew this, just as I knew I’d be seeing more of that devil tattoo before I told him to go.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE
Logan Zachary
Casey, where the hell is the keg tap?” I hollered up to the open window overlooking the frat’s backyard.
“Isn’t it on the bar?” Casey poked his head out of his bedroom window and looked down at me from the second floor.
“If it was on the fucking bar, would I be asking you for it?” I slammed the doors closed and rested my hands on my hips.
“Well, Brandon, who used it last?” he asked.
“You did, Sunday night for the barbeque.”
“Oh. Yeah. We iced the kegger in the bathtub Sunday. Shit. Hang on.” Casey pulled his head in. A minute later, his arm and the tap thrust out of the window. “Here, Brandon, catch.” He threw it at me, but he overshot.
Tubes and pipes spun over my head. The metal tube that sucked the beer
out of the keg hit the top of the twelve-foot fence behind my head and flipped the plunger and the tap over into the neighbor’s yard. Thick vines and vegetation covered the fence like a jungle, and tendrils reached up and made a canopy over the neighbor’s backyard.
I held my breath as I heard it clatter to the ground on the other side. “Nice going, asshole,” I called.
“Fucking butter fingers,” he shot back at me. “I can see why you’re on the football team.”
“I never touched the damn thing. You overthrew it. Now, get your ass down here and go get it.”
“I’m not going over there. That guy’s crazy. Mr. Abbott will blow my head off with a shotgun.”
“I’m gonna blow your balls off with a shotgun. That was the only one we have. No tap, no fucking beer, dipshit. I want to go wild tonight, damn it.”
“You go climb over the fence and get it.”
I looked at the ancient latticework atop the fence. It would never hold my weight, and the grapevines were so thick, they looked like something the Addams family had around their house ready to eat intruders. “I’m not climbing over.” I looked at the ground and saw it was a thick, impenetrable jungle. “Or crawling under.”
“Go knock on the fucking door and be neighborly. You’re the new golden boy at this wild frat.”
“You threw it over there.” I motioned to the fence. “You get it.”
“I have to pick up the beer. Duh.”
“Then get another one at the liquor store. Duh.”
“They’re too fucking expensive, double duh, and I doubt they even have any in stock. We had to special order that mother.” He pulled his head back into the house and complained to whoever else was in the room with him.
“You have to do something, asshole.” I called up to him.
“I’ll see if I can get one at the store, but you need to get your ass over there and retrieve it, one way or the other. You’re pledging this frat, and you’re not in yet, golden boy. You can’t afford to fuck up this party.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” He had me there. Fuck, fuck. Fuck.
I knocked on the front door.
No answer.
I rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
Did anyone even live here? I had never seen any lights or movements in this place, but I had only been at the frat for two weeks. Looking around the side of the house, I saw the fence ran right up to the wall, and I couldn’t get into the backyard. The other side was the same. My only chance was getting in the front door or over the back wall.
I turned the knob, pushed, and the door opened. “Hello, Mr. Abbott,” I called into the house. Dust swirled in the rays of sunshine that slipped between the blinds. The air had a stale smell. I doubted a window had been opened in this place in years.
Could the place be haunted? Stepping inside, I felt the floor with my foot, testing to see if it would hold my hundred-eighty-pound footballer frame. The wooden floor squeaked, but held. Another step inside and the front door slammed behind me.
My instincts said to get out of there. I’d seen this sort of situation in movies and it never ended well. I knew I needed to grab the doorknob before I was locked in, but I ventured farther inside. “Hello, anyone home? I live next door and something fell into your backyard that we need.”
That sounded lame.
The living room had a grand piano and several framed prints of operas and Broadway shows. The walls were lined with overstuffed furniture.
A formal dining room held a table for twelve and opened up into a huge kitchen. In the other direction was a sunroom that faced the frat house, too beautiful a room to be overlooking the ramshackle frat.
Walking by a potted tree and many plants, I headed to the backyard. A fountain burbled in one corner, birds perching on its levels to bathe and drink. Grapevines grew over and through the fence, a thick barrier of privacy.
Where had that fucking tap landed? Nothing black or metal was to be seen against the green of the vegetation. I pulled on the branches as I scanned the wall, but couldn’t find anything.
“Looking for this?” a male voice said behind me.
Startled, I spun around and saw a man sitting in a wheelchair holding out the beer tap. “You scared me,” I admitted.
“You’re not used to breaking into someone’s house?”
Yikes.
He was seated in the shadows and appeared to be old and gray, but as he rolled forward into the sunlight, the years dropped away. Decade upon decade disappeared and a man of thirty looked up at me. He scanned my body from head to foot.
“Mr. Abbott, I knocked but...no answer.”
“So that gives you the right to come in?”
“The door was unlocked.”
His eyes narrowed as he nodded. “An unlocked door is an open invitation? An invasion of privacy? Why don’t you take your clothes off. And you can call me Kevin.”
“What?” My body tensed.
“You may call me Kevin,” he said.
“No, the other thing.”
“I know you heard me. Take off your clothes. If you feel free to come in and see all my stuff, I should be able to see all of your stuff.”
“You’re welcome in my room anytime,” I joked.
He pulled the beer tap onto his lap. “If you want this back, you’ll strip.”
“I’m not stripping for you.”
“You strip for your football team, you shower with all of the guys at the gym, why so shy here? No one will see you, only me.”
My cock start to swell in my shorts, and I wasn’t wearing underwear.
“I doubt you have briefs on underneath there,” he observed.
My groin warmed under his gaze, and my erection grew harder.
He smiled. “I see that you aren’t.”
I wanted to cover myself, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“All you have to do is kick off your sandals, pull your shirt over your head, drop trou, and your tap will be in your hand, and you’ll be out the door.”
I looked behind me in the frat’s direction.
“Time is flying, tick-tock. Show me your cock.”
I slipped out of my sandals and pulled my shirt over my head. My hairy legs were long and strong, my chest was broad and furred, I was deeply tanned from the shirtless workouts in the sun and I was chiseled from gym workouts and football practice. I unbuttoned my shirt to stall for time.
“I see you work hard on your body.”
My baggy shorts flapped just above my knees as my cock strained against the nylon material.
“One more article of clothing and the tap is all yours.” Kevin pointed to my shorts.
“I’m not wearing underwear.”
“I can see that.”
Fuck. A rivulet of sweat ran down my back and funneled into my crack. My balls were moist and my dick wanted to be free.
“Come on, wild boy. Show me what you got.” He pulled up on his wheelchair’s armrests and swung them to the side.
“What are you doing?”
“Come closer.”
I stood where I was.
He wheeled forward. He pointed to my shorts again. “And I want a lap dance.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“The longer you take, the more I’ll want…”
I pulled my shorts down with one hand and covered my cock with the other. I stepped out of them and my balls swung free.
Kevin smiled and wiggled his finger. “You’re covering yourself up. Don’t hide your light under a bushel—though your basket looks mighty fine so far.”
My cock leapt in my hand, and precum oozed down my wrist.
“Are you wet?” He motioned for me to move closer. “Come, sit on my lap.” He rolled closer, until his footrest tapped my hairy shin. “Spread them.” He rolled forward again.
The wheels nudged my bare toes. I widened my stance.
He wheeled forward again, forcing me to leap, and my bare ass landed on his lap.<
br />
I relinquished my cock as I reached for him, to stabilize my position. My erection bounced, and precum dribbled down my shaft.
He ran a finger along my dick and through the clear fluid and brought it to his mouth. “Salty, sweet.” He reached around me and grabbed my ass. “Where’s my lap dance?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, your legs.”
“I’m fine, even better now with you here.” One hand grabbed my dick and stroked.
I thought I was going to shoot all over him.
His other hand cupped my hairy balls and squeezed. “Nice and full and not shaved; you are such a good boy, so handsome, hung and hairy.”
My cock slipped easily in his grasp, and my head fell back as I enjoyed the sensation. My butt slid over his lap, and his cock started to swell underneath, to press between my cheeks. Not everything was paralyzed down there.
“Do you want to ride it?” His finger slipped between my cheeks, to my tender opening. His rough tip circled around and around seeking entry. His other hand jogged my body and encouraged me to press down harder. “I know how wild the parties are next door, so whoop it up.” He slapped my ass.
The sting burned, but excited me, too. I reached between my legs and unbuttoned his pants and worked his zipper down. A crest of thick pubic hair rose above his underwear’s waistband. A huge bulge strained against white cotton and a wet spot spread, making it sheer.
“Do you think you can handle me?” Kevin looked deep into my eyes, his own hazel eyes glowing golden in the afternoon sun.
My hand rubbed over the hot lump and felt the dampness. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”
“You needed the tap; you didn’t plan on me.” He stopped stroking me and had me stop. He bent forward and licked the tip of my cock. A pearl of sweetness rested at the opening and he spread it around the fat head, before sucking it clean.
More clear liquid oozed out and ran down my shaft. I threw my head back and savored the feeling.
“You like that? Do you want me to take it all the way down my throat?”
Wild Boys Page 17
