Coronation Street is owned by ITV. Nothing in this story suggests any rights to Coronation Street, and it says nothing about the actors playing the roles. None of this story is based on real life and it shouldn't be used as any type of guide to real life. Don't read if you aren't 18 or older.
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Todd could barely get his thoughts together with the soft-but-strong grip around his shaft. What made it worse was he knew Rob liked it this way - best way to keep him off-balance.
"I-I...I wanted to pay 'im back. He and Jason were bessie mates then. Said some awful things to me."
Rob let out a dirty chuckle as he broke grip to slap his palm against Todd's gut, squeezing enough to wring out a moan.
"So you asked him to send you this -"
He paused to leer over the image of Gary puffing a joint, knees over his head as he tried to fuck himself with his own mammoth prick.
"Just for some bloody payback?"
Todd rolled his eyes, stroking himself at the photo until Rob smacked his hand away.
"Alright alright. I wanted him...still do. What's the harm?"
Rob smiled a shark smile, ruffling Todd's hair, then texting with one hand as he beat Todd's fat cock off with the other.
"Honesty's the best policy. Now let's have some fun with 'our Gazza.'
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Gary threw his old battered mobile down to run a hand through his wavy ginger hair.
Of course it hadn't been some fittie with Double Ds - he'd figured that - but with his mam getting dumped and Roy Cropper of all people battering him and getting pressure from his (ex)-girlfriend Alya's family, he'd needed the release, the game. Then they'd stopped...for the best, he'd thought, since who knows what he might've agreed to do when he was so low after finding out about Alya losing her virginity to his supposed great mate, Jason.
Once they'd stopped replying he'd figured she or he or who-the-fuck-ever had moved on and at the worst, all the dick pics and arse pics and so much else he didn't want to think about right now pics had gone onto some "tube" site somewhere that no one on the Street would ever see anyway.
Nope, they were still around, as he now knew. And threatening to send the snaps to his mam, and worst of all, to that fucking pig Phelan who'd made his family's life hell, a pig who'd probably wank his tiny meat for years over the sight.
At least they weren't asking him to rob the Bistro or burn down the bookies.
This was just humiliation.
The truth was it sort of turned him on. Being told what to do. Being treated like meat.
His dick had just about torn a hole through his skinny jeans at the instruction. He'd had to excuse himself from the cafe table and go beat off in the toilets. As he'd blown his load all over the urinal, he was sure he'd seen Todd Grimshaw's overpriced loafers in the stall, but then, Todd was a right perv anyway.
He hated this - hated how horny he got over texts from some sicko stranger telling him what a gorgeous cock he had and how he needed to share it with the world, talking about his tight arse and how good it had looked gobbling up a massive dildo.
He hated that he was in the gym he ran, a place he should show maturity in, and yet as he put the hidden camera into the spare locker, he could barely stop himself from tenting his towel at what he was about to do.
"I said fuck off!" Zeedan shouted to Gary's ex-best mate, Jason.
"And I said watch your mouth," graveled Jason, who'd been on Zeedan's bad books since deflowering his sister Alya.
"And I say you're both boring me and if I want to watch idiots shouting I can go visit my brother," Nick shouted back, chastening them both. Nick had little to do with either of them, although he employed Zeedan at the Bistro and his sister was once married to Jason for about a month.
Jason was wearing a white vest, the sweatiness of his workout showcasing the bit of a chunk he now carried around his waist (which many lasses, on the rare times he actually got to hook up these days, told him made him look even hotter), and tight black running shorts that reminded everyone what fantastic legs he had. The truth was he wore them to tell everyone that just because he was past 30, he wasn't past it.
Zeedan was wearing a black vest, somewhat darker than his tan skin. While he wasn't as muscular as Jason, he was in good shape, although his baggy basketball shorts hid it, along with the large cock he was reluctant to showcase.
Nick was wearing a towel and a scowl. For a man near 40, he was in good nick, with broad shoulders and a smooth, muscular chest. His small but sensitive nipples were hard from the cool air on his undressed body.
Gary was also - barely - wearing a towel, and he was so sick of the lot of them that he figured there was no better time.
The three very different men had a shared jaw-drop as he whipped off the white cotton fabric, revealing one of the biggest dicks they'd ever clapped their eyes on, with large low-hangers making the contrast with his lithe frame even more obscene. It was also a surprisingly pretty piece of meat, no bends, ramrod straight, with a thick vain on the base.
"Caught ya peekin'," he winked, slowly walking out of the locker room to allow the men to have a good look at his smooth arse, two nicely sculpted - from genetics and gyms - melons that bounced a bit with each step he took.
He turned around, briefly, where the camera could still see him, to have a good long stroke, sliding his tight foreskin back the rest of the way to reveal a bulbous pink head with a dollop of precum leaking to the floor.
"Clean that up, lads, willya?" he jeered, smacking his todger against his flat stomach - and then his hand against his backside - before he strutted out for good.
The three men were stunned into silence, with the first real reaction being Nick accidentally dropping his towel.
After the display they'd just had, Nick didn't bother to act embarrassed, and Jason and Zeedan knew that with his shapely legs, toned from years of running, and the surprisingly thick packet between his thighs, he had few reasons to be embarrassed.
"Right," Nick said, tugging at his girth as he slipped his tight grey boxers on, soon followed by his snug black trousers, white undershirt and light blue work shirt, "I'm gonna go...shag Carla senseless."
Zeedan couldn't help staring at his well-toned backside as he left, which Jason noticed.
"Disgusting," Zeedan huffed, arms crossed over his midsection. "Men today have no respect. No decency."
Jason started laughing, earning him a deep scowl in return.
"Why are you laughing at me?"
Jason put his hands over his gut in mockery.
"'Oh I'm so shocked. Morality today.' Come off it. You were havin' a perv at both lads."
Zeedan glared.
"I was not. I'm not a -"
Jason shook his head, voice turning from scornful to sympathetic.
"You don't know what ya are, Zeedan."
Zeedan bristled at the soft tone, and how he needed it, along with the hand on his shoulder.
"Bet you're tentin' those shorts..." Jason said, part smug and part supportive.
"Fuck off," Zeedan said, with much less anger this time, because he knew Jason was right. "Lads make me sick. Nothin' else is natural."
Jason rolled his eyes.
"Used ta be like you," he began, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his eyes, knowing Zeedan would ogle his hairy, matted chest. "Hated 'queers' and 'poofs,' even hated me own brother..." He pulled the vest off all the way, tossing it across to room to let Zeedan see and smell the gym sweat of his trimmed pit hairs.
"And n-now what?" Zeedan said, mouth suddenly dry.
"Now?" Jason rasped, kicking off his trainers and stepping out of his socks, Zeedan fighting an urge to take the dirty, sweaty toes and clean them with his tongue. "Now I know it's not that simple."
"It is if..." he paused as he saw Jason's meaty hands on the waistband of his shorts "if you're a good person."
"Yeah?" Jason laughed, lowering his shorts to reveal a white jock strap he more than amply filled. "Bet bein' a good person didn't stop ya thinkin' bout how I fucked your sister."
Zeedan's hands balled into fists, fuming at that comment.
"You should be ashamed."
"Yeah well..." Jason replied as he bent over to pick up his clothes, giving Zeedan an extended look at his trimmed arse cheeks and hairy hole. "I ain't. And shame don't do nothing about what you're hidin'."
Zeedan looked down at the long tube of flesh prominent against his right thigh.
Jason slipped out of his jock strap, back still to Zeedan. He suddenly turned, shoving the pouch into a startled Zeedan's nose and mouth.
"Have fun," he taunted, off to the showers.
Zeedan wanted to join him, wanted to see just what Jason had been packing, but he couldn't do that to himself, or his sister. He couldn't...
Instead, assuming no one was around, he took a long whiff of the pouch, and carefully lowered his shorts and his own grey jock strap, fishing out his length. Longer than most blokes, he was sure, even if it was on the thin side. Not as thin when he began pumping it in his nervous hand.
Jason could hear Zeedan's desperate grunts even as he turned the shower on. He began soaping himself, humming a pop tune as he cleaned his foreskin and played with his hole.
When he suddenly felt a strong hand on his shoulder, he turned, smugly expecting Zeedan.
Instead, he growled, "YOU," at the surprising - and horny - stranger...