Mendes; Chapter 2: Night Games
LENGTH: 1,365 words
WARNING: This story contains sexual acts between young adult males and/or females. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relations to real persons or acts that may appear within are unintentional. THIS STORY IS FICTION.
DISCLAIMER: This story was written for the enjoyment of readers. It should not be reposted or reproduced without the writer's consent.
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AUTHOR: Early drafts of future chapters and/or future work may be available first at www.conormonaghan.com. The author would love to hear your feedback on the story at conor.monaghan.writing@gmail.com
4AM. Justin quietly turns the knob to Shawn's bedroom door, eases it open, and peers in. The room is soaked in darkness, a few suffocated rays of Las Vegas light leaking in through the blinds, its only respite. No audible protest from Shawn in response to the intrusion, so it seems safe. Justin tiptoes into the room, followed by Cameron, Nash, and finally, a semi-reluctant but ultimately bored Troye.
The boys are severely inebriated. The past four hours were spent living the Vegas life: gambling, consuming, basking in the dizzying highs of the city where everything is left behind. They returned to the suite only for the promise of a few blunts, fully intending to the return to the Vegas night, but the marijuana ultimately left them sedated and lost in conversation, a conversation which was eventually steered back to Shawn Mendes, his sexual proclivities, or lack thereof, his general "pussy-ness", as Bieber eloquently termed it. A few minutes of storytime about Shawn's past evolved into a roast of Shawn's not-so-secret flamboyance, which evolved into Justin talking the boys into having a little fun pranking the sleeping Shawn, whatever that might entail.
"Hey, Nash, take my phone and light up the room a bit, but not too bright," Justin whispers, handing his phone to the younger boy.
Nash obediently receives it, switches the rear LED light on and scans the abyss. The light traces the skirts of the room before settling towards the center, on the bed. The bed is absurdly large, wider and longer than an ordinary King, absent a headboard, and oddly positioned in the center of the room, atop a slightly raised platform, as if the entire room were conceived as an exhibition floor for it.
Justin makes his way silently towards the bed. He's shirtless, it must have been discarded at some point while he was smoking with the boys. The other three young men spread out along the periphery of the room. Nash, in particular, keeps his distance to avoid waking Shawn's sleeping form with the light.
Shawn is laid out on his back across the bed. He must be prone to movement in his sleep, as the blanket is disheveled, now only partially concealing his body. Perhaps not such a bad thing. He appears to be fast asleep, one arm curled above his head on the pillow, the other resting motionlessly by his side. He is naked aside from a pair of underwear. His legs are mostly tucked beneath the blanket. He must have changed earlier, as the boxer briefs he was wearing earlier have been replaced by a pair of loose, green Hanes boxers, Justin vaguely realizes.
As Justin approaches the bed, he turns to face Nash. "Get this on video, man," he whispers.
Still following orders, Nash opens up the camera application and starts recording.
Justin drops his shorts on the floor and cautiously steps onto the bed. He places one foot on either side of Shawn's head, accidentally nudging Shawn in the process.
For a brief few moments, every boy in the room holds his breath. Shawn tosses and turns in response to the disturbance, but after a groggy noise and repositioning his head, he comes to a still, mouth agape.
Justin smiles at the new development. He bends his neck forward a bit, dangling his head over Shawn's, and swishes his mouth for a few seconds. A wad of spit escapes from between his lips and slowly drops into Shawn's open mouth.
Laughs from Cameron and Nash shatter the silence in the room. Justin, barely able to contain his own laughter, beaming, tries to signal for them to tone it down. The laughter is stifled for the most part, and more importantly, Nash manages to restabilize the camera in his hands.
Justin waves Cameron over.
Cameron makes his way up to the head of the bed, still smiling. Following Bieber's lead, he leans his head out over Shawn's and swishes the spit in his mouth around for a few seconds, taking his time, longer than Bieber, even adding a hock on the end before opening his mouth and dropping a second load of spit into Shawn's mouth.
Justin, Cameron, Nash laugh.
"Jeez, you guys are fucked up in the head," Troye whispers.
Justin, still standing on the bed wearing nothing but his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, decides to take it a step further. He signals for Nash to move in closer to the head of the bed. He lowers his boxer briefs to his hips, giving the camera a nice view of his boner. He's cut, six inches, hard, and his pubes are trimmed short. He swings his cock around for the camera for a few seconds before turning around to face the foot of the bed, ass aimed at Shawn's face below. He bends over.
From the camera's point of view: the head and exposed torso of Shawn Mendes, seen from above, stretching across the bed, from wild brown hair, to chiseled pecs, to toned abs, to happy trail, dipping innocently into a pair of green Hanes boxers. In the frame, his sleeping body flanked on left and right by the bare legs of Justin Bieber, white Calvin Klein boxer briefs wrapped taut around his knees, and above by Bieber's clenched, pale ass cheeks, with a decently sized cock and two shaved, low-hanging balls dangling just below.
Justin lowers himself with measurable care, his ball sack falling inch by inch towards Shawn's face. At some point, as Bieber bends lower, his asshole comes into view in the frame of the camera. Hairless.
Finally, Justin's balls break the invisible barrier and plunge into Shawn's open mouth. He takes a few moments to teabag Shawn repeatedly and then lowers his balls as deep into Shawn's mouth as he can manage, until his hard cock rests on Shawn's chin, and farts in his face.
As with the previous juvenile developments, Nash and Cameron burst out in laughter, this time utterly unable to contain themselves, falling to the floor clutching their stomachs momentarily.
Satisfied, Bieber lifts his sack out of Shawn's mouth and pulls his underwear up before stepping off the bed.
Cameron's turn. He lifts himself from the ground and drops his jeans and underwear to the floor. Black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, not too different from the ones Shawn was wearing earlier, Justin observes. Then, he glances at Cameron's dick. It looks about seven inches long, bigger than his. Trimmed pubes.
Cameron carefully steps onto the bed and repeats the motions exactly. He bends over and slowly lowers his trimmed ball sack into Shawn's waiting mouth and tea bags him several times for added comic effect, before letting his ball sack soak in Shawn's mouth. He lowers himself until Shawn's nose is buried in his ass, partially pretending to sit on and partially actually sitting on Shawn's face.
"Maybe we should see if Shawn likes having a mouth full of sweaty balls, boys," Justin whispers. With Cameron still sitting on Shawn's face, Justin walks up to the bed and snakes his fingers into the waistband of Shawn's underwear. He's able to lower the loose boxers without disturbing Shawn.
His eyes widen. Shawn's penis is huge, and completely soft. He has a larger-than-expected bush of brown pubes. Taken aback, Justin measures it silently for a few moments. It looks to be about seven inches, so probably the same size as Cameron's hard dick, but then, why is he shocked? Then, it dawns on him. Shawn is thick. Thicker than him. A lot thicker. His balls are big too, coated in hair.
"Damn, I half-expected him to have a hard-on with a mouth full of balls," Cameron comments from above, jerking Justin back to reality. He quickly pulls the boxers roughly back up over Shawn's sleeping bulge, suddenly realizing that the camera has now soaked in the images of three cocks, his the smallest.
Cameron hops off the bed and lands with a thud. He slips his boxer briefs back on, then reaches for his jeans, but decides against putting them back on, slinging them over his shoulder instead.
Justin walks towards Nash. "You get all that?"