Hi guys, this is a story that contains graphic sex, so if you're not supposed to be reading this sort of stuff or are offended by it PLEASE GO AWAY NOW
The characters are fictional insofar as that is possible. If any ofthem resemble s you or somebody you know it is a pure coincidence. Critical comments are accepted - good and bad - at bazdeboy@gmail.com
Author's Note -- guys this part was in chapter four but my partner suggested putting it into chapter three. Chapter four is further down the page.
(Continuation of Chapter 3)
"You didn't sing to me tonight," I remarked as he curled up behind me. He started into a low rendition of 'And I Love You So' and his swollen cock pressed against me. I joined in with the singing and he laughed.
"I've something to help you with the high notes," he whispered and without warning slid his thick stump back inside of me in a single solid thrust. I shrieked!
"Does that thing ever go soft?" I gasped.
"Not when you're around it doesn't!" he replied and snuggled up behind me.
I pushed back into the curve of his body so we were really close together, "Arthur," I said. He hummed a soft yes. "There are no high notes in that song!"
He sighed and started humming a tune I did not know. "What's that?" I asked.
"It's 'I'm just a girl who can't say no' from Oklahoma," he answered jabbing his pelvis into me with three sharp thrusts on the last three words.
"But I'm not a girl," I protested. I genuinely wasn't comfortable with the 'bitch' label either.
"But you can't say no either!" he defended his song.
"And I'm not from Oklahoma either," I added.
"Oklahoma is the name of the musical the song come from you dork!"
"Oh my God," I teased him; "you know your musicals? Now that is so gay!"
"Not as gay as having a prick up your ass though?" he answered and started to fuck the shaft in and out of my tired ass. "I want to fuck you again; is that okay?"
With his cock sliding in and out it was an academic question really. The first principle of being a boyfriend seemed to be that there was permanent consent to being fucked unless it was explicitly withdrawn. My budding legal mind considered the conditions and I decided that it was a principle that I could live with. I clenched my ring and said; "Go for it big boy!"
And go for it he did! He started to slide in and out with increasing speed and force and soon he was like a jackhammer on my ass. I opened my mouth and my groan came out in short bursts as each thrust up my ass forced my lungs to expel air. He rose up and placed his hands on the small of my back. This held me firmly in place as he ravaged my hungry ass. My ass felt stretched beyond all comparison. I lay there and, in true McDonald's fashion, 'I was loving it'!
I tasted submission for the first time and it was heaven. I lay there accepting a man inside me. Not just any man but a man who both loved me and pinned me into place. My moans gave way to words and I begged him to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me harder, longer, softer, always... I just wanted him to fuck me.
Arthur must have picked up on my growing passivity in his hands. He started to grunt like a wild animal as he took more and more control of the act. He slapped my thigh and ordered me up onto my hands and knees. I complied and got a few directive smacks on the butt to get me into the exact position that he wanted me in. Once I was in a satisfactory position he stood behind me, bent his knees, slid his tube back up my ass and resumed his assault. He held my hips for balance and long-dicked me for several minutes. Every time he bottomed out in my ass my head hit the wall. He noticed and pulled the pillow from under my knees and placed it between the wall and my crown.
"Thanks!" I muttered and suddenly WHACK!
I yelped as his hand made contact with my flank. I clenched and he sighed and muttered that that was lovely and asked me to do it again. I clenched and asked him to lay off the slapping.
"Clench more and I'll slap you less," he laughed and landed another one. Though this one was not as half as hard as the last. I clenched and he stopped fucking. I took his lead and worked hard to clench around the thick tube of flesh that was wedged in my butt. As I clenched he sighed. I worked hard to loosen and tighten around his massive girth. It was as if I was milking his cock with my ass. It was hard work but I tried. I lasted maybe a minute and collapsed forward. His cock slid from my ass as I fell and he followed me quickly.
As he lay behind me I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck and his hard cock along the crevice of my butt. I was about to ask him if he wanted to keep going but he started humming Braham's Lullaby again and I knew that was the signal for sleep! As I drifted off to sleep I decided that I was going to measure his cock and mine the following day.
CHAPTER FOUR I woke the following morning with Arthur's permanent erection pressed against my ass. I struggled free and went to pee. I knew that I didn't have a measuring tape in my possession. I was a law student not a seamstress. I used my imagination and collected a piece of string from the kitchen. I could wrap it around it and measure it later. I returned to my room where he lay on my bed -- a picture of obscenity! He was sprawled with his short legs akimbo and his raging boner lying curved against his stomach. He had an ass like a hairy Spaniard. A heavy dusting of black hairs covered his lower body and legs. I could see the dark eye of the hairy valley hid his cave hidden from all intruders. One day I would get there!
I took the string and wrapped it around the shaft. I cut it and he flinched. Then he snored quietly and I measured the length and snipped it. By now my own cock was standing straight up. I took the length piece and laid it along my shaft. I was longer than him by maybe half an inch or so. I was proud. I knew he was thicker than me but I was longer! I was about to compare the thickness when his hand grabbed my boner and he drew me towards him. He muttered something about feeding a puppy and closed his lips on my cockhead and started to suck.
He caught me off guard and I struggled to regain my composure. What he lacked in experience he knew from instinct. I threw back my head in ecstasy as the warm tongue caressed every nerve-ending in my cock; I felt my hips buck and shudder as I shot my load deep into his mouth.
"That was amazing," I gasped.
"Amazingly quick," he corrected me. Then pointing at his own dick he asked me to return the favor, "it only takes a few minutes," he lied.
I wasn't biting; literally or figuratively. I apologized that I didn't like doing it and that I had told him so already. He argued that I had never tried it with a 'boyfriend' before. That might well be true but it wasn't enough to help me overcome my distaste for meat in my mouth. I asked him if he wanted me to fuck him and he explained that it was something he simply didn't want to do. I explained that I felt the same way about oral sex, nothing personal, just not my scene.
So he turned me around and fucked me!
He shuddered and shot his load deep inside me. Then panted a few times, slapped my hip and said; "now get into that kitchen and make my breakfast!" and his cock slid out of me with a plop.
I landed a thump to his upper arm and he curled up clutching it on the bed. I left him rolling on the narrow bed and went to get something for us to eat. He followed me into the kitchen a few moments later. He was still naked and nursing his arm. He had his usual pout on his face.
"That hurt!" he said sulkily.
"Not half as much at the beating I'm going to give you the next time you call me girl, bitch or anything else implying that I'm female," I relied dropping some toast on the table before him. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"It's called a kiss; boyfriends give them to each other!"
"So you're going to beat me up and then kiss me; is that what this is about? Barry, I'm confused!"
"No Arthur, that thump was a reprimand to show you some limits. I loved the sex with you but I want you to drop the girl stuff that's all!"
"So why not say just that?"
I guessed that we would not be boyfriends that evening. We were less than two days together and we were having our first fight already. Arthur would argue about anything even when he knew nothing about the subject. If somebody he liked or respected told him that grass was edible he would argue all night until you accepted that grass was edible. He wasn't always logical, he was insistent and loveable. Once when he complained of tummy aches a mutual friend sent him to a maternity unit because they often treat women with stomach complications after birth. The staff sent him to Casualty but he spent the next three days insisting that he was treated at the maternity unit but accepted that you had to go through A&E first.
"When you want something you keep slapping me, I don't like but I'm not sitting getting all self-righteous about it..."
"... self-righteous?" he howled.
Before we knew it we were arguing about whether it was nice to call a person self-righteous or not. We left for our respective classes fuming about the principles of what we can or cannot say to each other. The thump and the slapping were the last things on our minds.
I had no lectures with it being Saturday so I went into the city centre and strolled about. I sat into a coffee shop and reflected on what a fucked-up pair of friends had got themselves into. Things had been so much simpler before we discovered our mutual interest. I guessed that we would be moving out of our house-share in the not-too-distant future. We would probably try and remain friends but would lose contact. Maybe this is the reason that you don't hear that many stories of friendship turning to love?
I had knots in my stomach all morning and the coffee was a bad idea. At one point I would feel dirty and then at the next I would feel a passionate desire to run up and kiss Arthur, apologize and start all over, then I would feel cheap again. Arthur might be argumentative, puppy-like, naïve, stubborn and so on but I was blunt, caustic, controlling and, at that very moment, wishing I was a nicer person. Maybe we could salvage our friendship? Maybe the reason we hadn't got together earlier was because we weren't for each other? Another part of me was arguing about proper gay behavior. On the one hand men have sex with each other and then never call and that's okay for most of; why would it not be the same for me and Arthur? Sex was overrated and we let it control too many of our issues and emotions. Big deal, we shagged, get over it! We could rescue the friendship if we saw the sex as sex and not as anything more. A dip of the dick, then drip, dry and dose. We might not be suitable boyfriends but we could fuck again at a later date. Maybe I would suggest that.
When I got home he wasn't there. It wasn't choir night so I guessed he was out with friends. I went for a walk and came back at nine. He still wasn't there but I wanted him to be there. Nine changed to ten, to eleven and at midnight I went to bed. As I curled under the blanket I wondered how much longer this room would be mine.
Just after two in the morning I heard him coming in. He was being very quiet so as not to disturb me or something, but he did disturb me. He was fumbling about in the kitchen. Then he stopped and everything went quiet. I heard him push back a chair that he must have been sitting on and I heard him coming up the short stairway. I heard him approach my door. I clutched the blankets like they do in the movies and waited for the handle. His feet stopped at the door and I heard a slight grunt as he slipped a piece of paper under my door. I heard him creep away, enter his own bedroom and then I heard the latch click. He had gone to bed.
I waited a few minutes until I guessed he would be asleep. I got out of bed and quietly picked up the letter. I returned to the bed and switched the bedside light on and began to read.
Dear Asshole, (nice beginning), I know you're awake and reading this and I am awake next door. Swallow your pride man and join me, lots of love, three kisses, your boyfriend, Arthur. P.S. the KY is in your room so don't forget it!
I raged at his attitude but quickly laughed because it was almost the way I would have said it to him if the roles were reversed. I would probably have written 'grow up and get your ass in here now' rather than the bit about swallowing pride, but all told, the letter was something I would have written.
"I hope you didn't forget the KY!" he remarked as I barged into his room.
He patted the mattress beside him and I joined him. Soon he had pulled me into the bed and was lying on top of my stomach, his face only an inch away from mine. He wasn't drunk. He had spent the evening talking to Lance and Wayne. That's what he told me when he was sliding past my sphincter and filling me with his thick hard cock. Once inside he smiled at me and asked; "are you sorry?"
"For what?" I snapped.
"Now don't start that for what shit with me, you were wrong and when you say it I'm going to make love to you!"
"And imagine that I don't feel like saying it?"
"Then I'll just have to fuck you until you say you're sorry!"
"Simple as that?"
"Simple as that!"
"No way am I saying sorry!"
"Okay! You asked for it!" and with that he began to pound in and out of me with force. I tried to push him off but he simply laughed and took advantage of his upper hand. I clenched my ass and tried to expel him but he wouldn't come out and enjoyed my efforts. I was really struggling but his weight prevented my escape. This guy weighed the same as three bags of coal! But it was a great fuck.
"Admit you were wrong," he demanded.
"Fuck you!" I replied.
"Monsieur," he said in a Pink Panther mode, "it appears to me that it is you sir who has a penis inserted into his rectum, so, monsieur it is YOU who is to be fucked I believe! Now admit to the inspector that you were wrong," he challenged in a bad French accent.
"Never!" I replied with an evil smile.
"You can be such a stubborn asshole sometimes Monsieur," he goaded me.
"What do you expect when I'm living with a thick prick like you," I snarled back.
"Well, the last time my thick prick met your stubborn asshole we almost fell in love!"
And he stopped pumping! FUCKER! Our eyes met each other's and we smiled.
"I'm sorry!" I admitted.
"I hope you'll never accuse me of being self-righteous again, it really hurt Barry it really did!"
Only that morning we had been arguing close to accusations of domestic violence. Less than 24 hours later and it was about me telling him that he was self-righteous. "Arthur, I said firmly, "this isn't about that it's about the thump!"
"Ok," he said sheepishly, "I exaggerated a lot; it didn't actually hurt at all and I was out of order calling you a bitch!"
"But Arthur, you are self-righteous and I am a bitch!"
"Will I see if I can find that nerve again?"
"Be my guest!"
"If I don't find it I'll give you a blowjob, okay?"
He found it! Whatever the nerve problem was I hoped it would never be cured. Arthur lay in a push-up position over me and I curled my legs around his torso. He flinched when my cold feet rested on his butt. He started to rock forward and back ever so gently. The hard spongy head of cock was rubbing me and sending mad messages up my spine. My cock was solid as a rock. He brushed my hand away when I reached for it.
"You came last night without touching it, remember?" he said gently and continued his work. For five minutes he worked me over and I shuddered and shook as varying degrees of pleasure wracked my body. The feeling of his cock inside me was driving me wild. Every so often he would stop for a moment and I would milk his cock with my butt. He stopped a few times and each time I worked hard to clench without expelling him. It was wonderful. My dick slapped against my body with lewd splattering sounds. Every time he re-entered I would feel the shudder as he passed that wonderful dislodged nerve. We smiled and grinned at each other like two idiots; lost in the sensory overload that was assailing both of us. He stopped and I tried to clench but I was too tired and, although I tried, I gave up and flopped back on the bed
"You're going to have to finish me off with your mouth?" I smiled up at him.
He ran a finger over my abdomen and scooped something off. I had cum and I hadn't even noticed. I never thought that that was possible. We both smiled. When he had entered me the squirm I thought was his entry was also the squirm of my orgasm. Hey, there's lesson number one; your balls can only make so much batter. Unlike in the world of porn, lies and fantasy when you cum in real life it is milliliters not gallons each time. But it sure was amazing and I lay there limp as a rag doll so my lover turned me over, gave my butt a playful slap and entered me in a single thrust.
"Six and seven eighths," I grunted.
"What?" he asked as he landed.
"That's how big your cock is around, six and seven eighths inches which is pretty big!"
"So I've got a big cock?" he boasted half as a question.
"Yeah lover, you sure have!"
"And do you know what's amazing?" he asked all excitedly, "this morning you were as tight down there as you were when we started the night before."
"I wasn't that tight was I?" I remembered the feeling in my ass that morning and tight wasn't the first word that came to mind. Sore would have been a much better description.
"Oh yeah!" and he gave a low whistle, "You sure were! And I spent the day thinking that I had found me the eternal virgin!"
"Shut up and fuck me!"
"You're such a romantic Barry!"
Pillow talk was on cock sizes and mental arithmetic. Arthur had heard that some guys were as thick as beer cans and he wanted to know if he was one of them.
"6.87 divided by 3.14 equals?" I asked like a schoolmaster. "Come on young Campbell we haven't got all day! Hurry up man!"
"Two sir!"
I grabbed his ear and asked again, "Now boy, you're supposed to be a teacher and you should be able to tell what two times 3.14 is can't you?"
"Six, point, two, eight!"
"And is 6.28 the same as 6.87?"
"No!"
"So the correct answer is Mister Campbell?"
"2.2!"
"That's correct it is two and two fifths inches THICK!"
"What matters most though is it's bigger than yours," he said with a grin.
"I'm not sure of that," I challenged, "yours may be thicker but I am longer."
"But you only measured mine with a piece of string," he argued.
"And that piece of string wasn't long enough to reach the end of mine." I proclaimed, "Yours is six and an eighth and mine is seven and a quarter!"
"Liar! We can check it out in the morning! Am I as big as a beer can?"
"No you're the size of a can of furniture polish!"
SILENCE
"How did you know that?" he asked with a quiet laugh.
"I measured every cylinder in the house when I came home today," I admitted. "That's how I knew you weren't as big as a beer can!"
"I hope you started with the water tank," he joked, "honestly Barry, we have a fight and then spend the rest of the day thinking about each other."
I looked at him and grinned, "I was actually thinking about this!" and I grabbed his cock. "Oh my God!" I howled in mock disbelief, "it is soft, the fucking thing goes soft after all!"
"How big is your one around?" he asked
"Five and five eights!"
"Is that all?"
"We can't all be short and thick!" I joked.
"What length were you really?"
"Six and seven eighths."
"The same length as my circumference? Fuck Barry, we were made for each other!"
We kissed, chuckled, hummed a bit of Brahms together and as I nodded off he asked me for the formula for the volume of a cylinder.
"Pi by radius squared by height," I muttered and closed my eyes.
I woke the next morning with his now familiar cock pressed against me. He asked me whether I was awake and proudly proclaimed that he was about to bugger me with ninety square inches of cock! I laughed and he goaded me saying that I wouldn't be so smug when I had them stuffed up my tight ass. I wriggled free. My ass was genuinely too sore for sex.
"How did you get ninety?"
"It was agony! I remembered that Pi was twenty two over seven so I multiplied 2.2 by 2.2 by 22 and divided by seven and then multiplied by 6 and a bit."
I laughed, "2.2 was your diameter not the radius!"
"So I've only 45 square inches then? And you had about sixty so now you only have 30!"
"How long were you awake working this out," I asked in a patronising tone.
"Probably as long as you were measuring cylinders and comparing them to my prick!"
TOUCH...
Over breakfast of toast and tea we did the correct arithmetic with a calculator; 23.29 for him and 18.21 for me. That didn't sound correct to me but I checked it twice and verified the calculation. He was delighted. "I'm nearly 50% bigger than you!" he claimed. Arthur wanted to boast. He had heard guys talking about packing ten inches of beer-can-thick cock -- he had twenty-three and a quarter square inches of cock and that was better. He walked out the door with a smug grin and a terrible swagger. With his shorter legs he had the grace of a duck! I pulled out a piece of paper where I had the notes on the sizes of cylinders. I calculated the beer can that was ten inches long and got 54.14 square inches. Ouch! 23.29 was about as much as I could take; I followed his path to the door with a limp not a swagger. Boy was my ass sore that day.
What a pair of fucked-up dimwits we were! For five years we had skirted the issue but I suspected he was gay all along. I never said it to him because I wasn't confident enough to risk losing his friendship. We weren't close or anything but were good friends in a big city. Sex had happened between us and our lives had changed, but only a bit.
The following year brought great times together. Arthur continued to be naïve and gullible in life and a tiger in bed. I continued to be overbearing and sarcastic during the day and was becoming increasingly passive in bed. We had good sex between us that left us both satisfied so we didn't push the boundaries any more. I realized that the quest to fuck him was futile and he realized the same about getting blowjobs from me. The first few weeks were all sex. We were probably making up for the lost time together. Every day we woke early so we could have sex before college. He would bend me over the dining table as soon as I got home. He started to cook dinners because he was home two hours before me. The price of the dinner was always the same -- one piece of tail just as the dinners were all the same: ground beef and pasta.
After about two months things started to wind down and soon days were going by without us fucking. We made a promise to each other that the last thing we! would do every day was to make love. We would discuss our day, our differences and make up after any fights (and there were plenty of those) and when we were both sated we would lie together, hum a little bit of Brahms and fall asleep beside each other. Certainly there were still occasions when I got it over the dinner table or when he would suck my cock during the evening news bulletin. But the greatest magic was when we were together. Tired or sad, happy or whatever our best sex was always when we went to bed together at night. He would make me cum by caressing my nerve and afterwards he would plow my ass till he collapsed on top of me, his boyfriend ... well, maybe husband is a better word. We learnt a lot about relationships and other things. We even learned that my trapped nerve was a thing called a prostate!
Together we walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Lots of people know we are a couple but we don't discuss it. Arthur finds it very exciting to give curious people the impression that I am the top and then TOPples me -- his phrase -- off my pedestal by impaling me on his. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
THE END
Okay guys, that's all that can be safely told about the early years, well, the first year anyway! Yes we have read your emails and this is a strange piece for porn. The guys aren't super-hung, gym-toned, tall or even handsome. They are not confident they don't have all the answers so I hope you liked them/us. B&A