All characters within this story are fiction. Any semblance to any place, persons or events are purely and wholly incidental. The author retains all rights to the work, which may not be copied or distributed without prior written consent to be obtained from dracoes@yahoo.com.
This story contains scenes of a primarily homosexual and occasional heterosexual nature encompassing sex, relationships, fetishes and other interactions. If you are offended by such material, or if it is illegal to view such material in your geographic location, please continue no further in your reading.
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Genre: Fetish / Fantasies Theme: Burglary / Domination / Underwear / Exhibitionism
I finished work at the usual time, said goodbye to the secretary with a smile and a wave, and jumped into my car to go home. I'd had a long day, phone calls and paperwork coming out of my ears, contracts left right and centre, and I was altogether ready for a nice, quiet, relaxing night. It was Friday, so I was in no particular rush, and I took the scenic route home to relax myself.
I lived one town over from the city office, in a small house close to the roads and near to the countryside, meaning that I could take a morning run out of the fumes. There was a gym near by so I could get a workout and swim in on route. I wasn't a small guy, and working in an office had made me conscious of the fact that sitting around all day and eating normal meals wasn't healthy. At twenty, I was in good shape, six foot, brown hair and dark eyes, with a swimmer-runner build. I got enough casually admiring glances to know that even if I wasn't drop dead gorgeous, I'd have no trouble getting my end away, if I wanted to.
I got home about half six and turned on the television so I could listen to the programs whilst the boiler heated up the water for a bath and I made my lunch. I have the habit of undressing slowly as I get home, peeling off one article of clothing at a time. First I slid my shirt off over my defined pecs and abs, letting the cool air caress my hairless skin. My shoes and socks came off next, finally followed by my trousers.
Standing in front of the mirror, I took my time unbuckling the wide leather belt, then leisurely opened the button and clip. Slowly, I unzipped my fly over the bulge in front, and slid my trousers off over my firm, round ass to expose my tight, black boxer-briefs. Living closer out in the country alters your perceptions of privacy slightly, compared with the close quartered natures of cities, so I think a combination of both had made me somewhat of an exhibitionist.
I knew I had a body and looks that most people strived for. I knew that straight men would look at me and wish they had my looks, and that gay guys and women would be turned on by me, and I relished in the feel of their eyes on me, of the power it gave me to know that they were attracted to me. Across the street in another house a guy my age lived with his wife and daughter, and as I slowly slid off my trousers to admire myself in the mirror in the front room, I became aware that through the front windows into the dark evening, the lights in the room made me plainly visible. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his curtains were open and his lights were on.
He was slim, with jet black hair and a cute, boyish look to his face that hadn't been matured out through puberty. He was watching a football match on his television as I undressed, and at some point as he'd gotten up to change the channel or get a drink, he'd looked out the window across the street and could see me undressing in my living room.
I smiled to myself when I noticed him watching me. He was married with a young daughter, but his eyes were fixed on me, rapt as I put on my little show. I could just see a drink in his hand, and that he was wearing a t-shirt and blue tracksuit bottoms. Casually, pretending I didn't notice him so he could have his voyeuristic pleasures and I could have my exhibitionist ones, I turned so I was facing him through the window, looking the mirror at my profile.
My bulge through the black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs was impressive. Though of no bigger size than average at six inches, I hung convincingly, creating a nice pouch in the crotch. I ran my hands over my pecs and hairless abs, using a finger to trace my nipples, then down, outlining the impressions of my six pack, then slowly, I ran my whole right hand over my bulge as I continued to caress myself with my left.
Absently watching myself in the mirror, I saw the guys free hand involuntarily grasp his own crotch, methodically stroking and squeezing it as he continued to stare fixedly at him. I didn't know where his wife was, but since his daughter wasn't there either, I assumed they had both gone out, and he was enjoying a time alone.
Smirking to myself, I really began getting into my little show, enjoying the attention I was receiving, even if he didn't realise it. I increased the amount of time my hands drifted over my cock through my boxers, and titled my head back as if I was looking at the ceiling, moving my mouth as if I was groaning with the pleasure I was giving myself. In reality I'd moved so I could get a better look at the effect this was having on him.
The street was almost always empty, it being far from the town centre and a residential area, so he had an unobstructed view. I watched as he put his drink down, and lifted his t-shirt over his head. He was hairless like me, smooth and defined but not as muscular, and after he'd removed that, he pushed his tracksuit bottoms down slightly to expose a pair of navy blue, wide sided Jockey sports briefs. Immediately his right hand dived into them, stretching the waist band, and I could see his fist going back and forward beneath the fabric of the briefs.
This was getting me really excited, and I fought to keep myself limp even as I began pumping my hips and making more show of my feigned pleasure, pumping in time with his hand sliding up and down his shaft. It cant have been more than a minute. He threw his head back, and I distinctly heard his orgasmic scream through the single glazed windows as his fist pumped furiously on his cock beneath those blue sports briefs, "God...Uhhh... Fuck...Uhhhh... Uhhhh... Holy fuck...UHHHHH!" He bellowed, and I saw the dark stain through his underwear as he spurted shot after shot of cream into them.
I smiled to myself and pretended I was finished too, then, as I went to draw my curtains, I met his eyes as he pulled his tracksuit bottoms back up, winked, and pushed my tongue into my cheek, leaving him an open offer for later.
After I'd eaten, I slid into a bath to relax, enjoying the glow of knowing I'd made a straight guy horny enough to cum in his sexual sports briefs, not unlike a pair I owned myself. The fantasy and eroticism of knowing that his fist had been sliding up and down his shaft, a cock that had many times slid in and out of his girlfriends' pussy, over me was incredible. After I'd climbed out and dried up, I slipped into my own red pair of them - Jockeys, wide at the sides with black banding - put on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and settled in for my relaxing evening.
It was whilst I was getting dressed and dried that I heard the noise. There was a muffled crash downstairs, as if one of the pictures had fallen off a wall in my kitchen. I chalked it up to a loose frame though, until I caught the distinctive creak of my desk chair. It only made that noise when it was moved, and I'd left it resting against the door. Someone was downstairs.
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Someone was in my house. I was being robbed. It occurred to me that I'd turned off the lights downstairs, and it looked as if no-one was home. I lived far enough away from the town and with enough space between the houses here that only the loudest noises of breaking and entering would be detected outside, and even then probably ignored mostly as it could be anything.
Whoever was downstairs was going through the drawers in the kitchen. There was the distinctive rattle of them sliding on their plastic runners. It couldn't be a friend or relative, since they would knock, and call first of all, even though they had keys. What if this person had a knife? What if they had a gun? Was I going to be killed or injured? Would they go away if I left them alone or let them think no-one really was home? A thousand stories, imaginings and scenarios whirled through my mind, and every noise became like thunder as my senses strained for signs of danger. I was ready to bolt or fight, acting on instinct.
It seemed like hours before I could think straight again. My heart was pounding still, and I was shaking with nerves, but I made a decision. This was my house, these were my possessions that I'd worked hard for, and I was the one who had been broken into and wronged. I remembered the advice of the government; You have the right to protect your property. I was going to use the adrenaline running in my system to teach this invader a lesson and drive him out.
I grabbed a cricket bat from my closet, and slowly I crept across the landing and down the stairs. Foot by agonising foot, the blood pumped deafening in my ears as I strained to catch a glimpse of who was there. I reached the bottom and carefully stuck my head round the corner to look through the lounge. Nothing moved in there as my eyes adjusted, so I moved further forwards, and silently opened the dining room door a crack.
It was dark in the dining room I used as an office, but my adjusted eyes could make out a shape hunched over my desk drawers, its back to me in the darkness. The general shape indicated a male, and he hadn't noticed me. I pulled the door open the rest of the way, and crept inside. The light switch was just by the door, so I devised a quick plan. I flicked on the lights, startling the burglar, and used that moment of distraction to swing the back as hard as I could at his ribs.
He yelped with pain when I pulled the swing at the last minute so I didn't kill him, and went sprawling towards the open plan kitchen even as my ears registered that the yelp had been higher pitched than I'd expected, even though I hadn't really been expecting anything.
I loomed over the invader as he turned to look at me, and the face that I saw gave me pause. He was only young, no more than seventeen and probably only sixteen, with tanned, clear skin and a matured, handsome face for his age. He was brutally good-looking, with black hair and blonde tips, deep, sultry brown eyes and chiselled features, dressed in addidas jogging bottoms, a plain black t-shirt and trainers and a puma sports jacket. He didn't appear to be armed.
I held the bat up ready for counter-attack as I looked around to survey the damage. I could see that my back garden window was wide open, a picture had fallen off the wall beside it, and my back door next to the window was open. Clearly I'd left the window open enough for him to get his hand through and open it further so he could unlock the door from the inside, in the process knocking off the picture. When hed opened the door, my desk chair had moved.
The kid was clutching his ribs where I'd hit him, in a half foetus position on the floor. His eyes were wide with fright and pain, and a tear was running down his cheek. I realised suddenly that I wasn't scared anymore, and now he was the one intimidated with a big older guy standing over him with a bat. "P-please, don't hurt me." He quavered in the almost matured voice of a teenager, "Im sorry... Im really sorry."
My eyes narrowed, "I don't need to ask you what you were up to in here," I said, "But I want to know why."
"I-I don't know. The house... that is, your house... well, it was just, there... you know; waiting."
"You don't KNOW why you broke into my house?" I snarled, taking a step forward. He cringed back from me, still not getting up. "I might have understood if there was a good reason, but you're telling me you broke in here to steal my stuff for NO REASON AT ALL?"
"Im sorry! W-w-what are you going to do?" He asked, his eyes on the bat.
"What do you think?"
"Please, please don't hurt me." His eyes were filling now, and I felt an instinctive rush of sympathy. Then I remembered the circumstances, and pushed it aside.
"Give me a good reason not to. You're in my home, without permission, and you got caught. Not a good situation." He didn't answer, and I snorted dismissively, "I might not hurt ya, but Im going to call the police." I took a few steps backwards towards the desk and reached for the phone when he sat up.
"No! Please!" He begged, "Im sorry, Im so sorry. Please, don't call them."
"Don't hurt you, and don't call the police. Yeah, right."
"No, please..." He reached out his free hand as if begging me, and I stopped again, feeling another surge of pity. As he shifted, my eyes roamed his face, then were caught by a movement in his crotch. A bulge moved underneath the loose fabric of his trackie bottoms.
"Give me a good reason not to." I challenged, casually watching his groin.
He didn't seem to notice. "I cant, I just... I don't know. Im sorry, please. I wont do it again."
I thought about this for a while. He was stuck with me, under my control, and I held his future in my hands. I had an idea, "Whats your name, kid?" I asked.
"Jason."
"Well Jason. Maybe we can come to an arrangement."
His eyes brightened as the possibility of a non damaging escape was dangled before him. "S-sure." He said, sitting up straighter, his voice calming slightly, "What is it?"
I stuck out my hand to help him up, and told him to sit in a chair whilst I went to lock up the house. I wasn't having a repeat of this, and I wasn't letting him get away either. He seemed to understand this and didn't take any hasty moves as I returned to the table with the bat still in hand. "You're gonna make it worth my while to forget this happened," I told him, "If you object, or you've got a problem with that, say now, and Ill call the police to take care of this through the law."
"N-no," he said, "Whatever, just tell me. Im really sorry."
I smiled grimly, "Come with me," I said, and led him into the living room, "You got a girlfriend, Jason?" I asked as he followed.
"Yeah." He replied.
"Whats her name?" I asked as we came to stop in the middle of the room.
"Angie." I looked him up and down.
"And how long has it been since you last fucked Angie?"
He seemed like he wasn't going to answer, then he thought better of it, "This morning." He answered after a beat.
I nodded, "Tell me about it." He looked confused. "In detail." I elaborated, taking a seat to watch him.
"It was ten o'clock this morning," He said, "We met up after registration but before first period. We went round to the maths block, and started making out in an alcove by the classes. She was up in a corner, and I was leaning in to her, feeling up her breasts and I had my hand up her skirt, fingering her clit through her thong. Her hands were sliding down my back and down my trousers, massaging my ass.
"Then she slipped a hand forwards and started rubbing my dick through my boxers. I was getting hard quickly, and started moaning, then she stopped. She stopped. She whispered in my ear that she wanted me now, so we went to the PE block, snuck into the guys changing room and into one of the changing cubicles.
"As soon as we were in there, she went wild. She pushed me so I was sitting onto the bench, pulled my shirt out of my trousers and slid her thong off under her skirt. Then she ripped open my trousers and pulled them down to my knees, then pulled my boxers down half way down my thighs. I was hard, and she sat on my prick as I sat on the bench.
"It was amazing, the feeling of her pussy around my cock, and she started to ride me like mad, up and down and rocking back and forward, my prick riding up and down in her warm hard pussy. We were both moaning and grunting in passion, and then I couldn't take it any more. I cried out, and I shot my load inside her as she came. Then she climbed off, cleaned up and left me, half dizzy."
I was watching carefully as he told the story, and his voice had gotten stronger throughout. I could see that the bulge in his crotch had gotten more pronounced, and I smiled darkly. I stood up, snapping him out of his reverie, and looked at him. "Take off your jacket." I ordered.
He looked nervous but complied. "Take of your t-shirt." I commanded. He did so, and I was treated to the body of a seventeen year old skater. His abs weren't as defined as mine, but were visible, and his pecs were huge compared, very well pronounced and sexy as hell with their small nipples.
I told him to take off his shoes and socks, and he followed, then I saved the best for last. I gave him a meaningful look, then moved right up close to him so my own t-shirt touched his smooth, bare chest. I looked into his eyes and propped my bat up against the chair as I slid my hands across his back and over his smooth bubble butt through the fabric, then, hooking my finger and thumb into the waistband, I quickly yanked down the tracksuit bottoms.
His calves and thighs were well developed and muscular from skateboarding, and underneath his tracksuit bottoms he was wearing a pair of tight black Tommy Hilfiger hipster boxer shorts. I moved back to admire what was revealed to me, and he swallowed with nerves.
Slowly I took off my own sweatshirt, leaving me in my jeans. "Take them off." I told him, indicating my jeans. He swallowed again and looked torn, but obediently moved forwards and got on his knees. "Slowly." I told him.
Obediently, he unbuttoned the top, and I got goose bumps as I felt his hands contact my flesh. I began to get hard as he slowly pulled down my fly to expose the bulge in the front of my red sports briefs, and the cold air touched my skin as he opened the jeans and pulled them down my legs. I stepped out of them and stood him up again, looking him in the eyes. I could see reluctance there, mingled with fear, suspicion and perhaps the slightest hint of curiosity aroused. I could see he was still semi-hard thought his hipsters.
I smiled at him, letting the pent up sexual fire of the night creep into my voice, "Let me help you with that." I said, feeling him up, and got down onto my knees. Knowing what was coming, put his hands onto his hips, and I traced the outline of his cock with my tongue. When I got the head, I started to kiss and suck it gently, eliciting a short gasp from Jason.
I continued to suck and kiss as my hands began to unbutton his hipsters and I reached my hand inside to stroke the shaft. He moaned softly as I did, and pulled his cock out through the fly. It was impressive on a younger guy, at what I guessed as about seven inches, and I admired its smooth, slightly curving length before I took the tip into my mouth.
My tongue focused on the glans and head as I stroked then shaft with my hand, and I slowly took it deeper into my mouth, sucking and licking as I did. Looking up, Jasons eyes were closed, but his mouth slightly open was gasping with pleasure as I worked my magic on him.
I began to pick up the pace as he reached his full hardness, and I began to nibble and suck harder at the shaft, massaging his balls with one hand using a finger to stroke from his ass hole forwards to his scrotum. He shuddered at my touch, and began to rock his hips in time with my sucking. I decided to turn the tables on him.
Grabbing him bodily, I threw him onto the chair where I'd sat and madly went down on him again, abandoning all gentleness as I sucked him like a man possessed. His groans and gasps came louder and harder as I continued, "Ohhh... Uhhh... Oh god... fuck... suck me... uhhh!" He groaned.
"Louder!" I commanded for a brief moment as I took my mouth away from his cock. I slipped my hands under his hipster covered ass cheeks and began to force his cock into my mouth, sucking him as fast and hard as I could, roughly taking out my pent up horniness on him. Obediently he cried and moaned harder, and I saw his eyes watching me rapt as I sucked his dick through the fly of his black Hilfigers.
His body began to tense and I felt his balls rise, and I knew he was going to cum. His shaft quivered once and surged, and he pumped load after load of cum into my eager mouth,
"Uhhh... uhhh...uuuuhhHHHH... UUUHHHHH.... UUUUUHHHHHHH!!!" he cried as he came.
I swallowed everything he gave me, and looked up into his post orgasmic glowing face. He was smiling. I smiled back, and ran my hands up his chest, gently rubbing his nipples and massaging his pecs. He purred with pleasure and closed his eyes, writhing slightly at the increase sensations in his body, heedless of the fact that a man, the man who had tried to rob no less, had only moments ago sucked him to conclusion, and eaten his spunk.
I gave him a moment to enjoy the sensation before my grip hardened, and I turned him over bodily on the sofa, he looked back in wild surprise as I moved and began to struggle, but even as well built and young as he was, he was not match for me. It took me only moments to yank his boxers down over his smooth, bubble butt, down his thighs, and a moment more to slide my briefs down to my knees.
In seconds I was inside him, and he bellowed in pain. I hadn't been gentle. I hadn't used any lube or prepared him for it with my fingers; this kid, this teenager had broken into my house, thought to steal my things, and thought he was gonna get off with a blow job from a fag? Something he could rationalise as machismo? Hell no!
I was horny as hell after the night I'd had, and he was gonna help relieve me; that was the bargain. I hammered into him without mercy or reprieve, exulting as I felt his fresh young ass grip, pull and massage my rock hard, burning cock as I slid in and out of him. He was still struggling amid his gasps of pain and surprise, trying to push me off and away, unable to escape forwards. There were tears in his eyes, and he was flushed red, but I just grabbed his hips and forced him back and forth with my own motions.
I cant remember how long we went at it, all I know is that I never noticed when he stopped fighting it and began to move with me, rocking back and forth, his gasps now grunts of pleasure as my cock slid over his g-spot and I filled him with the sensation of completeness and fullness, then emptiness again. It can only have been a few minutes before I began to grunt and gasp, my face a determined rictus of pleasure and concentration, anticipating the blessed, long awaited orgasm.
"Oh fuck!" I roared, working up a frantic, rabbit like pace, jamming into Jason as the sensations in my prick intensified, "Uhh... Uhhh... UHHH!!! Fuck!" I shouted, and shot load after load of cum into his ass. When it was over, I pulled out of him and lay, my lust finally slaked, beside him. I noticed his head was resting on my shoulder, and his face was content, his eyes closed.
Another convert, I thought, smirking to myself.
He slept at mine that night. He showered, ate and left with simple, comfortable conversation, showing no hint of awkwardness - I couldn't figure out whether he enjoyed what we did, or whether he was hiding it, or whether he simply accepted it as something that had happened and moved on with his life.
I do know, however, that he came back. Ironically, we became friends, eventually. He'd come round with his girlfriend when he needed a quiet, cool, private place to hang; I was hardly poor, and had food, drink, a computer, console and DVDs and CD's glore, and I'd listen to him fuck throughout the night whichever bit of stuff he brought with him; rarely the same girl more than half a dozen times, and I'd smile to myself knowing that when he was done, he'd come to my room, and slake the lust he actually felt.