+++It's not a rock band, although they rocked me. You can find out the story if you are over eighteen. If you're not, then it IS a band.
We're neighbors. The boy's father passed on about a year ago and they continued to live in the house and run the family garden center. I have contact with them from time to time as I am in a similar business. They supply planting material; I do outdoor installations: fences, patios and decorative items like statues and such.
They came from Ireland only five years earlier. Sean and Regis speak with a definite brogue, Max who was only 12 at the time has lost the lilt and is as American as I am.
The parentless boys are: Sean, 21; Regis, 19 and the baby, Max, 17. They are a handsome lot, each a knockout in their own way. Sean is the best looking, dark haired, dark eyed with classic features and a knockout bod. Regis is blond, slim, blue eyed, about the same height as Sean, six feet one. Max is shorter than the others, a mere five feet six inches. He's a freckled red head with green eyes. He's a kind of goof off, leaves the heavy work for the other guys.
We have a friendly relationship when we work together on a project, but we do not socialize, although at twenty four, I am their contemporary, except to say hello when we see each other. They know I play on the other team and it doesn't seem to bother them. I have never made any overtures toward them.
This state of affairs would likely have continued forever had it not been for the Sullivan wedding. Mary Sullivan is a neighborhood girl who married a kid she met in college, a Jack Norman. The wedding took place in the rear area behind the Sullivan house, which was down the street from my house. I was invited. I came alone. This reception started out sedately, but after the ceremony and toasting, plus a hot DJ's music, soon the younger guys had taken off their jackets and ties and were dancing provocatively, all getting bleary eyed drunk.
Sean seemed totally wasted, but looking cute as hell without his usual dignified look as the head of the family and president of Kelly's Garden Center. He spied me. He put his arm around my shoulder and got sloppy and sentimental, speaking into my ear all sorts of garbage about how I was the best neighbor anyone could have and what a fine character I had, even though I was gay.
Then to prove that liquor is a potent force for removing inhibitions, he pointed to one of the tables. "See tha' Bobby?" (He always called me Robert). I saw the table, it was covered with a piink table cloth that went completely to the ground. "Now Bobby boy, I am real horny today. 'Sposin I sit on a chair and you scoot under and....(he blushed and rubbed his crotch) You do what you do best."
Before I could say anything, he staggered over to the empty table and pulled a chair closer to the table and sat on it, motioning for me to get under. I guess I was a little drunk and besides, this gorgeous boy had always been in my fantasy dreams. I shouldn't have done it. Bit fuck, something like this might never come again. I ducked under the table cloth. There ahead of me was Sean's strong, tuxedo clad legs. I saw his big rough hands working on his fly buttons. I knew this was for real and I was breathless with excitement.
I crawled over to him. He widened his leg stance and spoke out of the side of his mouth to me. "That's it Bobby. Get it out. Do your stuff."
Almost blind with passion and anticipation I pushed his hands out of the way and fished in his boxer shorts for his cock. He was so twisted up I couldn't get at it. I grabbed the elastic and pulled it down. His cock was already hard and propped over the elastic. I moved the band down further so that his generous Irish balls were resting on it.
His crotch was sweet smelling. I guess the boy really cleaned up for the wedding, but he couldn't entirely wash away his personal hot odor that wafted up to my nose and made me dizzy with excitement. He had a nice fat, smooth Zeppelin of a cock with a foreskin that covered it completely. I hoped it wasn't one of those tight ones that would be hard to move, but when I licked it, it obligingly moved back and there was a red head shining in the dim light under the table.
He groaned loudly. I whispered fiercely, "Quiet down lad or I'll quit."
"Okay Bobby, but that felt so good. Take it now, or I'll surely die here."
I decided, as much as I would enjoy a leisurely suck to completion, this situation here was dangerous and I had to get him off quickly. I worried that the liquor he had consumed might make him slow, but I soon found that he was so horny and needy to nut, that I would have no difficulty.
I allowed saliva to fill my mouth and I opened wide and engulfed his pickle and let it lay on my tongue. His moaning resumed and he rubbed my head with a tender touch, but shoved his hips forward. I got the hint. I closed down on it and swallowed it completely. He was now rubbing my head like he was giving a massage after a shampoo. His bigness was lodged in the back of my throat and my mouth was producing a ton of spit. I swallowed, my neck muscles fucking his prick. Anyone looking at our table would have seen this darkly handsome boy with a scarlet red face, possible having an attack of some sort.
I moved back and sucked down, over and over. He put his finger in my ear. He pinched my cheek. Shit, we were making love. I wished I could have kissed him. I knew he was about to blast off because his dick turned to iron and I could hear soft mewling above me. His hips were slightly going into a fuck motion.
I had to end this soon or everyone at the reception would see him. I tightened my lips and got my tongue into whirling action.
He grunted twice and grabbed my shoulder painfully hard. That was his signal that he was about to spew. Wow! He went into his orgasm by delivering a beer bottle of cum. And that was only the first shot. Three more bigger ones followed. I swallowed with the speed of one of those frat boys drinking from a funnel. He finally stopped. I saw his shaky hands pull up his shorts and then button his dress pants. I licked my lips clean, marveling at the sweetness of his sperm. I came out of my table cave and stood up. I half expected him to be angry because he was angry at himself for going gay for this occasion, but he already had a rationale ready.
"The guy who's blown can be straight. Right?"
"Absolutely," I said with real emphasis.
He smiled and relaxed. "Bobby, no gal could do what you did. You got talent."
I thanked him and wandered away, leaving him to get his breathing under control.
I thought this was an isolated occurrence with the Kelly boys until Regis knocked on my door the next night.
End Part One
----Bobby becomes the Kelly's court of last resort when they are horny. See Part Two.