Hey every one! This is one of the first stories I put up on here. I added four at the same time and there are alot more in the works. The four I added were this one, Meeting the Team, Stand In, and Turning Sixteen. I would really appreciate your feedback just email me at iwnt2burb@yahoo.com. This, just so you know isn't my main email so I may not reply immediately. I hope you like my story.
BTW, most of this story is in flashback. It took me two days to write it, which is why the end part is kind of stupid. I don't like it at all. Who knows you guys may like it. This story contains masturbation and m/m relationship sex.
I poured some more olive oil on the dough. I'd made bread only once before but it didn't seem that hard. As a matter of fact it was pretty easy now that I think about it. It might have been because I'd had another set of hands though, someone who actually knew what they were doing. The thought brought back memories of Darren. He'd always cooked for me. He knew my skills were limited, and I had a love for Italian food. Plus, I didn't usually have a lot of time. It was something he loved to do, and wanted to do for me. I hadn't had that in a while, someone wanting to do something just for me, with no expectation of anything in return. That didn't mean I didn't give something in return though. My cock awoke at the thought. My mind turned instantly to one particular night. I'd just got back home from a cheer competition and had won first place. I was tired physically, mentally, and emotionally, and just wanted to take a bath and go to sleep. I'd walked into the house and it was dark. One part of me was relieved because I was thinking that Darren was already asleep and I wouldn't have to explain anything, and the other part was saddened at the thought that he hadn't waited up. I decided to walk through the dining room and to the kitchen for a quick drink, and that's when I saw, and smelt it all. Darren had set up a candle lit dinner. There were rose petals and everything else the movies had for the cheesy romantic dinner scenes. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the love for Darren, but at that moment, it was in no way cheesy. He'd put in one of his tapes, and his deep voice soothed me, even rejuvenated me. I didn't see him when I walked through the glass doors. I heard him behind me though, "How's my little cheerleader," I spun around to find him leaning against the wall behind the door, sipping champagne. "Tired," he enveloped me with his big muscular arms, and rubbed his stubble across my smooth face. "Are you hungry?" He asked pulling back, I nodded, "Famished actually, although I didn't realize it until just now," he smiled, "You never do," he hoisted the bag I'd dropped onto his shoulder, and pulled out my seat, "Come on, sit down," I dropped into the seat, and he dropped to my leg, I knew what was coming, "You don't really have to do this," he untied my shoe and took it off for me, "Shhhh," he came up and gave me a kiss on the lips, and massaged my foot a little. He went back down and took off the other shoe. "Oh my gosh that feels better," he smiled, and massaged my other foot, "I still don't see why you where these, they're too small," he shook his head, "You know I could buy you another pair," "No I like these just fine," he looked up at me, "I'm going to get you another pair and throw these out," he stood, after taking off my socks, "You will do no such thing," he shrugged, "That's what you think," he disappeared through the swinging door and into the kitchen. I heard the water faucet, and then I heard him go up the stairs. I looked over the room, and relaxed in the chair. I stopped sitting straight backed and kind of slumped. Tonight I didn't care about decorum. I came out of the jacket and set it on the back of the chair. He came back about five minutes later and served the dinner. It was a four-course meal, and he served it accordingly, in four separate courses instead of how some Americans do with all courses at one time. After desert, he brought out a plate of cheese, something we'd started after going to France. Usually we ate it before desert but, for some reason, tonight was different. I don't quite remember what the conversation was about but I do remember the kiss. The very passionate kiss, that I remember him initiating. I was suddenly overcome with hormones and latched on to him. He backed me into the wall, and even picked me up. I pulled out of the kiss and with one look he knew what I wanted. He set me down, and pushed everything off the table, shattering the $50 platter, "Darren," I exclaimed, "What?" He spun around, "I'll buy another," "I've never quite seen this side of you, and I-I" I stuttered, "I like it," "Well you've never been gone for a week," he pulled me into him, and we kissed. I was up, once again, my legs encircled his waist. He placed me on the table, and fumbled for my buckle. I swatted his hands out of the way and pulled intricate buckle off, he ripped my pants down, along with my boxer briefs, and snatched off his own jersey shorts. Throwing off the shirt he had on, he latched back onto me. He practically ripped my shirt in half taking it off. His lust was pure animalistic, something I hadn't quite discovered before. It brought out something in me. I didn't know it but I liked it, no I loved it and became addicted to that kind of lust, that kind of love. Where as usually the sex was slow, and passionate. It included both of us looking into each other's eyes, and going for once thirty minutes at a time. We made love. This wasn't that kind of sex. "I want you!" he growled "I want you now!" He pulled up, positioned himself and rammed into me. I let out a yelp. He'd never quite done that to me. He'd always let me adjust because I had a naturally tight hole. We didn't do anal every week, so I was usually tight, and for him to ram into me after about what was probably eleven days was painful. He was in no way small. He began to drill into me, his hands sort of resting on his butt. Usually he played with my body, he made sure I was into it as much as he was. I didn't know but in this kind of love it was to each his own. I moaned as he hit my prostate, and involuntarily clenched my sphincter, "Oh yeah," he moaned in response, "Oh yeah!" He bent down and began to bite on my neck while pistoning into me. I moved my legs so that they were again encircling his waist; he had put them on his shoulders. I used my heels to push lower back, making him hit my prostate more and more, and I continued to moan. He stopped nibbling and moaned in my ear, "Oh yeah baby!" He whispered. I began to nibble his neck, and then went to his ear. "Give it to me," I whispered, my tongue ran around his ear, and he quivered. I wrapped my arms around him and felt his muscles moving on his back. That drove me wild. "OH YEAH!" I moaned, he wrapped his arms around me, and picked me up. Standing up straight, he bounced me on his cock, I wasn't that heavy, "Fuck yeah, Fuck yeah baby!" He rammed me into a wall. Something whispered in the back of my mind that it should have been painful but I liked it for some reason. The small bit of plain turned instantly to pleasure. It was like being bitten in the middle of sex, you don't feel it until afterwards. He held me up against the wall, and I brought up my legs to his shoulders. He began again to piston into me and I sat there, helpless to do anything. More like a rag doll. I didn't object though. I began clenching my sphincter, making him moan louder and louder, and making his thrust become more erratic and deeper. "Give me all that cum!" I muttered, as close to his ear as I could manage. I clenched my sphincter again, and he began cumming in violent shots. His yell rang threw the house and my ears. His knees buckled and almost dropped me. He finished and sucked me off, after carrying me up to our room My cock was now rock hard at the reflection. I looked down to see it tenting the apron I had on; I usually cooked naked. I kneaded the dough and a thought came to me. Reaching up, I undid the apron and allowed it to drop in a puddle around my feet. I continued to knead the dough, keeping it at room temperature, and my mind went back to the one time I'd been a top to Darren. I'm just a natural born bottom. That's just the way I was born. I'm fem and a bottom. I got off by being pumped into continuously; it was just apart of me. I wanted all of my boys to be a part of me, and that way they were. The one time I'd had played top was what Darren and I had done to `switch up the roles.' He wanted to know how it felt to do what I did, and I was a little curious. Not that much, just a little curious. I pulled the dough to the edge of the table, and slowly pushed my cock into it. I was imagining that one time that I slowly pushed into Darren. I'd been very conscious about how he was feeling and stopped every two seconds. That's one reason I couldn't be a top. I stopped a lot to make sure Darren was ok, then he'd yell about how it was just starting to feel good and I just needed to keep going. I entered the dough slowly. I stopped halfway in, and kneaded the dough. Moaning, I pushed even more, until I was entirely in the dough. I poured more olive oil on it and slowly pulled out. I rammed my cock back into the dough and massaged it around my cock. Quivering, I began to pump with long strokes, muttering under my breath. I moaned, from the rising temperature. Gripping the dough tightly I pushed my cock all the way in and began to cum, leaving thick globs, which I kneaded into the dough.