We had all gone away for a month, us six guys: Ray, Mike, John, Matthew, Paul and myself. It was supposed to be a bonding thing. We were in the heart of the countryside, staying in Paul’s family’s holiday home. It was miles from anywhere and it was going to be our last group outing together before Ray got married.
To begin with it was fun. Just the six of us together, nobody’s girlfriend allowed (or in John’s case, boyfriend). We drank beer and ate pizza and stayed up late playing poker and doing generally male things. The cooking was split between John and myself and we had a great time.
But it was getting boring. There was no TV and we had run out of ways to amuse ourselves.
Then one night, a week after we’d arrived, we were sitting around having our regular poker session and Matthew was complaining that there was no fun in it. Ray usually won anyway and none of us could afford to wager any serious money.
“There is one solution,” said John casually.
“What’s that?” said Matthew.
“Strip poker,” said John, raising an eyebrow.
This idea was greeted around the table with a weird silence. We were all looking at each other, trying to see who’d be the first one to turn it down. Nobody wanted to bottle out. We were all grinning.
Eventually Mike said, “Well, I’m game.”
“So am I,” said Matthew.
“So am I,” I said.
Only Ray and Paul were holding out, grinning at each other. Of all of us, Paul was the least likely to go for it, while Ray would do anything to show off. Paul held Ray’s gaze and said “Sure.”
“Fair enough,” said Ray, and he collected up our cards and started to shuffle them.
“How about a side condition?” said Matthew with an evil grin. “Whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the evening.”
I glanced at John. He was looking at me sidelong, a spark of mischief in his face. I grinned, a little nervously. This was shaping up to be potentially very embarrassing for whichever poor bastard lost the game. These guys were my best friends, which isn’t to say that I trusted any of them for a moment.
“Sounds good,” said John. The rest of us nodded assent, trying to look as confident as we didn’t feel.
The game started, and I was having a run of luck. I’m not the best poker player in the world, but I was doing well and my bluffing was working. One by one, items of clothing came off; shoes, then socks, then shirts and then pants, and one by one whoever was down to his pants invariably folded before having to go all the way. John was loudly voicing his disappointment that none of us had had the nerve to push our luck.
He changed his tune half an hour later when he was down to his jockey shorts and facing Ray, who was in t-shirt and boxers, and me who still had my cargo pants on over my own boxers. He folded. We slagged him for that. John was camp and extravagant, but he wasn’t that much of an exhibitionist.
So it was between Ray and myself, and while he was the better player, I had the better hand. Two pairs. There was no way Ray had anything to beat that.
“I’ll see your boxers,” I said, “and I’ll raise you my boxers and my pants.”
There was a low whistle. The tension was electric. Six slightly drunk young men in various stages of undress were sitting quietly in a circle, and there was something undeniably erotic about all the testosterone in the room. I had the beginning of a slight hard-on. I knew I wasn’t really risking it, but I was hoping that if we played another hand I might lose, and have to pay the forfeit. In the meantime I was planning what to do with Ray when he lost those boxers.
“I’ll call you,” he said carefully.
I knew he was bluffing. Smiling, I laid down my two pairs. One of the guys gasped. I knew I’d beaten him.
He looked at them impassively for a moment. Then he looked up at me and said softly, “Not bad.”
Then he laid down his own cards. A full house.
The guys burst out laughing and cheering. I went totally crimson. I couldn’t believe he’d beaten me and that I was now going to have to strip naked in front of them.
Ray grinned. “Get out there in front of the fire,” he said, and took a pull at his beer.
I got up from the table and walked the walk of shame, over to where the fire was burning. The guys were chanting “Strip! Strip!”
I decided to do it quickly. I unbuttoned my cargo pants and let them drop down my legs, then I stepped out of them and pulled my shorts down, stepping out of them too. I picked up my clothes and tossed them aside. I was finally naked. There were cheers.
“What about the rest of the conditions?” said Matthew, smoking a cigarette.
“Oh yeah,” said Ray. “What do we make him do. Hmm.”
I stood there, naked, resting my weight on one hip, my arms by my sides. My cock was definitely not dormant. It was hanging there, swaying a little, sticking out slightly in front of me. Nobody’d commented on it but I knew they had all noticed.
Ray glanced at John, who was sitting at the table staring at me, his lips slightly parted, looking flushed.
“John,” he said, “what do you think?”
“He looks lovely,” said John with a grin. Ray looked at me.
“Okay,” he said to me. “Get down on your knees and suck John’s cock.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, scared and excited. “We never said anything about that.”
“You have to do whatever I want, right?” said Ray. “That’s what I want.”
John didn’t need any encouragement. He’d always been a little flirty with me, and I’d appreciated it at the time, although I didn’t really think I was bisexual. But it had been a while since I’d had a girlfriend, and it’s always nice when anyone makes you feel you’re desirable. I didn’t fancy John, though, because although he was slim and handsome, he was a guy – and I didn’t fancy guys.
But now he was getting up from the table in only his shorts, and walking towards me, and I was naked and getting down on my knees with the purpose of giving him a blowjob. And the other guys were watching. I was starting to get hard. This was intimate, and weird, and definitely off the map. I was partly determined to go through with it because I had said that I would, and partly genuinely curious to see what it would be like. And John was so feminine, too, that I felt it would be like sucking a woman’s cock, if only women had cocks.
He looked down at me, his soft brown eyes smiling.
“You want me to take off my shorts?” he murmured.
“No,” I said. I wanted to keep it pure, to make me the only one who was naked. He took his already stiff cock out of his shorts and the other guys were totally silent, watching us. I had never seen another man’s penis up so close before, and I marvelled at how lovely it was, with the thick head and the blue vein running along it.
I took it in my hands and began to lick and suck on it, tasting John, and he gave a little shudder and a sigh. If this was to be my forfeit, I could do it, this I could handle. I closed my eyes and I felt them looking at us as I moved my tongue along the whole length of John’s penis, stroking him, taking him between my lips and hauling on him. I reached up behind him and slid my hands inside his shorts, cupping his tight buttocks in my hands, and he grunted a little. His hands were all over my head, stroking my cropped hair and shoulders, and then he was taking my head and starting to fuck my mouth. It was a head-fuck in every sense, raw and crude and also disorienting and dizzying. Was I gay, then? Because I was enjoying the feeling of John’s cock in my mouth? I tried not to think about it and tightened my lips around his shaft as it plunged in and out of my mouth.
I heard footsteps and then I suddenly felt a pair of hands on my naked arse. I opened my eyes and Matthew was behind me, fondling my hips and ass and stroking my own cock, and kissing me on the back of the neck. “MMMM!” I went in muffled protest, but John said softly, “Shut up, bitch!” and there was a chuckle from the table. I was getting scared, now; it looked like I wasn’t just going to have take John in my mouth. Perhaps I was about to be ass-fucked into the bargain.
I took my mouth off John’s cock and gasped, “What are you doing!”
“He can do anything I want, Alex,” Ray murmured from the table.
John took his cock and pushed it back in my mouth and I tried not to think too much. I went back to sucking him off.
I moaned into John’s crotch as he urged himself on, and then I heard one of the guys leave the room and then return. I went on sucking and kissing and hauling on John’s erect cock in my mouth, trying to make him cum. Then I felt the cool lube being smeared between my buttocks and I was no longer in any doubt that Matthew was about to fuck my ass. I whimpered. He didn’t seem to be interested in whether or not I wanted him to. His cool, stiff, lubed-up cock was stroking me between my naked buttocks and I gasped. John was fucking my face frantically and Matthew was leaning into me, the head of his shaft pressing into my naked bottom, and there was a nasty moment of pain before all of a sudden, Matthew’s cock had penetrated my anus and I made the transition from being a semi-reluctant cocksucker to a helpless ass slut. I moaned loudly and John hissed as he grabbed my head and came into my mouth. I swallowed his cum, or as much of it as I could, and I slobbered and licked it off his cock while Matthew worked his own cock up into my rectum.
I moaned with the force of it. It felt incredibly nasty and forbidden, having a guy up there. But I eased myself back down onto him, really wanting him, trying to engulf his thick cock with my arsehole. Some of John’s cum dribbled out of my mouth as he stepped back from me, and I went down on hands and knees, Matthew holding onto my naked hips as he fucked my arse. I could feel the fabric of Matthew’s shorts against my bare buttocks. I closed my eyes and went “Ooohh, Jesus!” as Matthew fucked me. I knew the other guys were watching me take it up the arse and for some reason I found that incredibly arousing.
He was splitting me completely. I had never felt so utterly used and violated in my life, having a guy I had known and called a friend for years fucking me in my own arsehole, and yet it felt so sensual and dirty and nasty that I didn’t want him to stop. I kept my eyes closed and I grimaced as he reached around me and grabbed my cock and began to pull on it.
“Yeah, jerk him off,” said somebody quietly. I let out a breath through clenched teeth and went, “Oooh…nooo…no! No! God! Aah!” as I felt my cock swelling in Matthew’s fist. But then, all too soon, he was bucking his hips into mine, fucking me roughly, and I gasped and went “AAAHH!” as he came in me, deep in my rectum, his hot cum flooding me.
He paused for a moment to get his breath back and then he pulled out of me quickly. I didn’t want him to. I could feel his spunk trickling out of my anus as I crouched on my hands and knees, my head hanging, panting for breath.
The next one to take me was Mike. He came over and unexpectedly he lifted up my face and kissed me, taking my face in his hands and putting his tongue in my mouth, and I returned it, finding it strangely pleasurable, as good as any kiss I’d ever had from a girl. But then he didn’t waste any time; he knelt behind me and grabbed my hips and in only seconds he was pushing his thick, blunt cock into my anus, and I was moaning and gasping with the strain of letting him enter me.
It was dawning on me that every one of them was going to fuck my arse, and that I wanted them to. I wanted them to use me like the most abject slut of their dreams. I wanted them to cum over my naked body, cover my face with it, make me suck them off, bum-fuck me, sit on my face – all the things they’d always wanted to try, and never been able to. I wanted them to live out their filthiest fantasies in a way that they’d only ever dreamed of doing with their girlfriends. I was their bitch, for tonight anyway. God, it felt good to give myself up to my friends like this, to let them use me like they’d only ever imagined using anyone. At last they were able to put their imaginations into action, because at last they had someone who was willing to let them do whatever they wanted to him, and that person was me.
John of course was gay, and I knew that there probably wasn’t anything the guys would want to do to me that he hadn’t at least tried already. But I was hoping that he, too, would have a fantasy, maybe of fucking a cute straight guy. And I wanted him to live whatever it was out on me.
Mike’s penis wasn’t very long but it was thick, and the friction of having him inside me, even with the lube and with Matthew’s cum lubricating my arsehole, was almost overwhelming. I felt my knees getting shaky and sure enough they gave, so that I was down in a cobra position, reared up on my elbows and moaning harshly as Mike buggered me: “Oh, Jesus, oh fuck, oooh, ohh, ohhh, oh God, oh God…”
I opened my eyes, breathing fast and heavily, and I focused on the others still sitting at the table; Ray, staring fascinated at the spectacle of Mike fucking me on the rug before the fire; John, sitting once again, looking flushed and sated; Matthew, lighting one of his ever-present cigarettes; and Paul, who took a nervous gulp of wine and looked the most uneasy with what was happening.
Mike was mounted on my arse and pushing deep into the cleft of my buttocks, and my cock was squashed against the thick rug. He wasn’t fucking me the slow, deep, sensual way Matthew had. He had just grabbed me and mounted me like an animal, and now he was thinking only of his own pleasure, ruthlessly buggering me in fast, rough strokes. I remember thinking that this was what it must be like to be raped. I wasn’t going to cum like this, but I knew he was about to. “Oh yeah…yeah…yeah! Oh God!” he gasped as he pumped into me, and I hissed “Oooh Jesussss!” as I felt him cumming inside me, then I let go and I sank face down onto the rug, shoving my slim hips back and upwards into his groin, milking the last of his cum from his swollen cock.
I lay with my face buried in the rug, breathing heavily, overwhelmed at what I had allowed them to do – two of my best friends had just sodomised me and another had fucked my mouth, and there was more to come. Mike gingerly withdrew his softening penis from my arse, stroking me gently as if to apologise for how hard he’d fucked me, and I gave a little whimper.
I heard footsteps and I raised my sweating head. Ray was standing by my head, looking down at me where I lay prone, naked and fucked in the firelight.
“Pick him up,” he said.
Matthew and Paul came over, grabbed me under my armpits and lifted me onto my knees. Ray inspected me, my slender body, my ribcage rising and falling, the thread of John’s cum cooling on my lips. My cock still swaying, half-erect, between my thighs.
“Do you want more?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You want to get fucked again? You want to get fucked up your arse by every single one of us?”
“Yes,” I said, staring at me, imploring him to use me. He considered me; normally straight, even a little inhibited, a friend he’d known for five years, now naked and stained with cum and begging to be used by him.
“We’re gonna shave you,” he said softly. “Your whole body. Every inch. I don’t want a single hair left. By the time we leave it’ll have grown back, don’t worry. I want you as naked as possible before I fuck you.”
I gazed at Ray. I was giving myself over to them, now. They really were doing whatever they wanted with me.
“Take him into the bathroom,” said Ray, and he turned and walked out.
Matthew and Paul held me under the arms and John and Mike picked up my legs, and I was carried bodily into the bathroom, still naked. I didn’t struggle. I was letting them do it.
Ray was already in there. He instructed the others to put me down on the tiled floor. Then he told me to get on all fours. I did so.
They were shaking up their cans of shaving foam.
“I want him totally covered,” said Ray. “Every inch.”
They sprayed handfuls of foam and started smearing it over my nude body, their hands moving the white foam all over me, first my back and shoulders and upper arms and then my arse and thighs, John smearing it deep into the cleft of my buttocks, then Mike was rubbing it into my cropped hair and Ray ordered me to kneel. I sat back on my heels, my arms by my sides, and Mike rubbed the foam all over my head, then over my face. I closed my eyes and he smeared it completely over my face, covering every inch, while one of the others covered my chest and stomach and then my cock and balls with shaving foam. Meanwhile the others were doing my calves and feet and forearms and hands.
In a couple of minutes I was completely covered in the stuff. I held my mouth open and breathed through it.
They all started shaving me at once. Two of them were doing my back and arse, another was shaving my chest and belly, another my arms and another my legs. They didn’t touch my head, yet.
I felt my body hair coming off me, and the coolness of the air and the astringents in the foam made my bare skin tingle. I couldn’t see what they were doing because of the foam in my face and eyes, but God, it felt erotic to have my friends doing this to me, humiliating me, shaving off all my body hair to make me into a purely sexual object.
They made me lean back on my hands to give John better access to my genitals, which he shaved expertly. I was tense about having a razor down there, but he was swift and precise. Then they made me go on all fours again, and I moaned as I felt them parting my buttocks, and then there was the careful scratching of the razor shaving the hairs out of my crack.
As they went on they mopped me with wet flannels, and I felt my chest and arms and legs becoming smooth and cool. Lastly they made me sit, and then I felt the razor scything the short hair from my head, over and over again, making me bald; then the careful scraping around my jaw and neck and under my nose and on my chin; then, finally, the delicate removal of the hair on my eyebrows.
I heard John say, “I think that’s it,” and I was helped to my feet. I heard the shower running.
Ray’s voice said, “Okay, Alex, have a shower and get cleaned up and let’s see what you look like.”
I felt my way into the shower and gasped as the water hit me. It felt so intense, so wet, now that I had no body hair to trap it; I was as smooth as a girl, and totally hairless. I washed the foam out of my eyes and off my body, and when I was clean I stepped out of the shower.
The guys were looking at me. John looked a little amused. Matthew and Mike were intrigued. Paul looked hot and bothered. Ray looked definitely hungry.
They stepped back from the full-length mirror. I got a good look at myself.
I was me, all right, but how different; bald and smooth and alien-looking, my body pink from the shaving and the warm water, my chest hair gone, my head with none of the masculinity that it normally had. I was about skin, about flesh, for all that I was still slender; I looked less like a man, without actually looking like a woman. What I really looked like was a blank slate, a shop-window mannequin with genitals, a sexual template for anyone to inscribe fantasies on. My naked, hairless cock and balls were hanging pink and gleaming between my dripping thighs. My pale eyes looked very strange with no eyebrows whatever.
Ray grabbed me and kissed me, his hands groping me all over, and I moaned thickly inside his mouth as he gathered my naked body up against him. I closed my eyes. He was reaching down into the smooth crack of my arse and touching my anus and I shuddered. I felt someone smearing cool gel into the cleft and Ray’s fingers moving it around, pushing gobs of it up into the already stretched tunnel of my anus, lubing me up once more.
Ray’s body was warm inside his t-shirt and boxers and with my shaven skin it was as though I could feel every single fibre in his loose underwear. God, it was sensual. And now while he was kissing me he was reaching into every last nook and cranny of my naked body, finding out what aroused me, making me give up every part of myself to him. I could hide nothing from him, he was going to take me any way he wanted me.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed my neck and throat, and I opened my eyes, my head lolling, to see the others standing and watching as Ray pushed his fingers into my anus and hauled on my prick, making me hard again. I knew they were watching me, the friend they had known so well for years, now shaved and hairless and smooth and pink and naked, in the arms of another friend, kissing and being caressed in my most intimate places and getting off on it.
Mike went up to John and simply pulled John’s boxers down over his hips, stripping him nude, and John gasped and turned to Mike, and put his arms around Mike’s shoulders, drawing him in and kissing him. Matthew went up to them and stood behind John, taking his own cock out of his jockey shorts and putting it in the cleft of John’s narrow ass, and John chuckled as he kissed Mike. From time to time each of them turned and glanced at Ray and myself. I had already been fucked twice and my third time was coming.
Ray’s strong arms went around my waist and he locked his fingers under my ass. I lifted my feet off the ground and wrapped my legs around him. He carried me out of the bathroom, still kissing me. Ray is strong, and I am not that heavy anyway.
He carried me across the room to the fire and stopped there. I unwrapped my legs from around his waist and he set me down, my feet touching the thick rug, then he pulled me down so that I lay on my back, and he lifted my naked legs up, pushing them back over me so that my arse was fully exposed to him.
I stared up at him with longing as he grasped my cock and hauled on it lovingly, smiling, then he slid his hand down over my well-lubricated perineum and into the cleft of my buttocks, fingering my anus.
“Oh, please,” I whispered.
“Relax, honey,” he said with a smile, and he took his cock out.
My eyes widened. I’d seen Ray’s cock before, we’d shared rooms and skinnydipped together, but I wasn’t prepared for what it looked like erect. It was enormous.
He rubbed more lube over it so that it glistened in the firelight. I could hear panting coming from across the room, and then I heard Mike groan “Oh, fuck!”
I turned my head. Mike was bent over a chair and John was holding his hips, pushing into him. Now Mike was being buggered, like I’d been, and by John. But while he was fucking Mike, John was watching Ray and me. I sensed that he had only taken Mike because I was currently claimed by Ray.
I looked back at Ray and he was looking down at me with a grin.
“See what you started,” he said, and then he took his cock in his hand and he guided it to the slightly loose knot of my anus and leaned down, pushing himself into me.
It was an incredibly vulnerable position, with my legs bent back over me and Ray facing me. He started to push his thick cock into me, stretching the muscle of my anus, and as I felt him sliding up inside me and filling me I winced, and choked back a sob. I was suddenly incredibly emotional. To be used like this, made to strip and then be arse-fucked and then shaved and arse-fucked again by my best friends – for some reason I felt a huge wave of emotion, neither sad nor happy, flow through me, and I was weeping as Ray started to fuck me, easing his giant length in and out of my by now stretched and capacious arsehole.
He looked at me and said softly, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I wept, “oh, God, just…just don’t stop…oh, Ray…fuck me…oh Jesus…”
Ray didn’t need encouragement. He seemed to go further and further into me with each stroke, filling my bowels and then almost drawing out of them, until I was so impaled on his thick meat that I felt sure his cock was going to come right up through my gut and out of my mouth. I clenched my teeth and breathed harshly, my eyes shut tight, wincing as Ray ploughed a furrow into my rectum, fucking me deeper and murmuring to me about how cute I was, how I was doing great, how I had a gorgeous ass and how good it felt to be fucking me. Every time he sank into me, his balls would touch my bare buttocks and I would groan at how intimately my friend was touching me.
If being fucked by Mike felt like being assaulted, being fucked by Ray felt like I was his fiancŽe. I found myself wondering dazedly what Dee would think of the fact that her husband-to-be had taken one of his best friends, made him strip naked, shaved all his hair off and then made him submit to being fucked up the ass. Then it occurred to me that Ray was so good at this that he must have practised on Dee more than once, and I had an image of her lying naked on her back moaning while Ray stuffed his cock up into her anus and it aroused me so much that I felt myself about to cum.
Ray could tell how aroused I was because my penis was rock hard, bouncing off my belly, and I was moaning loudly, “Oh! Oh God, yeah! Oh, please! Please! Jesus! Fuck my arse! Fuck my arse…ooohh!” He started thrashing in and out of me, really fast and strong, and he muttered, “Go on, Alex, go on, honey, cum for me, go on, you can do it, you can do it,” and I clenched my teeth and went “EEEUNNNHH!” as I felt myself cumming over my belly and chest. I came so hard that some of my own cum splashed in my face; I hadn’t done that since I was a teenager.
Ray growled, and he shoved his cock into me up to the hilt, and I felt his semen flooding my bowels and I choked back a sob. He hung his head, panting for breath. I squeezed his cock with the muscles of my arse, getting the last drops of Ray’s spunk. He leaned down and kissed me hard, and I kissed him back, whimpering a little.
I felt totally sated; I had now been fucked by three men. But while I had had my own orgasm, and it had been tremendous, I still wanted to service the others, if they wanted me to. The pleasure of allowing myself to be used by them was something I wanted to go on feeling.
Ray pulled out of me and smiled at me where I lay on my back on the rug.
“You’re good,” he said. “Nearly as good as Dee. Anyone would think you’d been practising.”
“I’ve had a bit of practise tonight,” I said breathlessly. He laughed and got up.
I turned my head. Mike and John were on the couch now, with Mike between John’s legs the way Ray had been between mine, and they were fucking slowly and steadily. John was still the only other one of us who was completely naked. Mike had pulled up his shorts since earlier, when John had been inside him.
“Paul?” said Ray. Paul was sitting at the table, drinking wine. “You want to take a turn?”
“I dunno,” said Paul in a nervous voice.
I rolled onto my belly and smiled at Paul.
“You can do whatever you want,” I said. “Anything.”
Paul was a good friend but of all of us, he was probably the most inhibited – well, I was more so, but my inhibitions were taking a severe beating tonight. He looked at me and drank some wine. He was looking with longing at my naked body and I could tell that he wanted to do something to me; my hairlessness made me curiously unfamiliar, so that touching me or being intimate with me wouldn’t be like touching Alex, his friend, but more like experimenting on a stranger.
“Anything?” he said.
I nodded and smiled.
“Can we not do it in here?” he said, glancing at Mike and John on the couch.
“We don’t have to,” I assured him. Ray looked amused, and went into the kitchen.
Paul got up and said in a tight voice, “Okay,” and I got to my slightly unsteady feet and followed him out of the living room and up the stairs.
It was strange, now that I’d left the erotically charged atmosphere of the living room, to be walking naked around Paul’s family’s countryside house. I caught my pale pink reflection in a mirror as we passed the open door of one of the bedrooms, and I smiled to myself at how weird everything had got. A few hours ago I was a straight single guy, now I was the naked slut of my best friends.
Paul led me into a bedroom. He sat on the bed.
“This is Callie’s bedroom,” he said. I leaned against the doorframe, my arms folded, smiling. Callie was Paul’s little sister. She was nineteen now, but we had all known her since she was in her early teens, and she had always been a teasing, flirtatious, sexy little pain in the arse. None of us had ever asked Callie for a date because we knew she’d just burst out laughing – being over 25, we were in her eyes practically senile. She was a flighty, funny, rude, long-legged, tomboyish sexpot who had been the focus of quite a few sexual fantasies over the years. She had once had a crush on me, which manifested itself as being especially rude to me, and ever since then I’d had a soft spot for her.
Paul got off the bed and went over to the chest of drawers. He opened it and started rummaging through his sister’s underwear. He produced a pale blue thong and held it out to me.
“Put it on,” he said in a slightly abstracted tone. I guessed what he wanted from me. I smiled at him, and pulled on the thong; Callie was quite tall and I have fairly narrow hips, so it wasn’t too bad a fit, although the thin rear strap pinched as it cleft my arse. I had to tuck my genitals inside the pouch.
Paul went through more of the drawers and found a dark blue t-shirt with the word BITCH on it, and a pair of highly abbreviated shorts. He also found a sunhat. He handed them all to me and I pulled on the t-shirt – it was tight across my chest – and then the shorts, which were extremely tight. I thought that the hat might be too small for my head but it turned out not to be. Callie had soft brown hair and I was now bald, and I supposed that the hat was more to conceal my smooth pink scalp than to represent something that Paul’s sister would wear.
Dressed in Callie’s clothes, I sat on the bed. Paul was staring at my body in his sister’s clothes; he kept his eyes away from my face.
The erotic tension in the room was palpable. Here I was, one of Paul’s closest male friends, and I was dressed as his teenage sister so that he could live out his most private sexual fantasy; he was trembling a little and sweating.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” I said softly, raising the pitch of my voice a little, trying to feminise myself.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said hoarsely and cleared his throat. I pulled up my knees and hugged them, smiling at him from under the brim of the hat.
“You’re good-looking too, you know,” I said.
“What are you doing right now,” he said. It took me a while to figure the question out.
“I’m at home in bed,” I said, finally.
“Are you sleeping?”
I tried to imagine Callie lying in bed in their house in the city. I decided I would spice it up a little.
“No,” I said, “I’m touching myself.”
Paul trembled some more. He sat on his shaking hands.
“Are you having a fantasy?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m imagining being fucked by a guy.”
“What guy?” Paul said.
I paused, and said, “Ray.”
“Do you want to fuck Ray?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, and I sidled a little closer to Paul, so he could feel the heat of my body. “I’m imagining being naked in bed with him and he’s putting his cock in my pussy and fucking me hard.”
“Do you like being fucked,” said Paul in a thick voice.
“I looove it,” I purred. “I love feeling a guy’s hands on my tits and in between my legs.”
“Have you ever imagined me fucking you,” said Paul, staring at my limbs.
I hesitated for a moment, then said, “Sometimes.”
“Have you imagined having my cock in your pussy,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Yes,” I whispered, bringing my lips close to his shoulder, reaching out to him. I wanted Paul to feel like he could do whatever he wanted to. I had never guessed that he felt this way about his sister but I wanted to help him work it out.
“You’re a slut, Callie,” he said tightly.
“Yes,” I breathed, and my lips brushed against his shoulder.
“You’re a dirty slut,” he repeated. I felt a sort of pity for him, as he sat there in his t-shirt and shorts, burning with unrequited and forbidden lust for his cute younger sister.
“I love you,” I whispered, and I leaned in to kiss him.
He grabbed me and shoved me on my back, pulling the hem of the t-shirt up. It was tight, and as my arms were lifted over my head it got stuck, still around my neck, covering my head and dislodging the floppy sunhat so that I couldn’t see. I gasped. Paul cursed and tore at my shorts, hauling them halfway down over my hips.
“Paul!” I exclaimed, my voice muffled by the t-shirt, “Wait! Hang on a sec!”
He ripped the shorts open and tore them down, then he flipped me over onto my belly and tore the thong off me.
“You fucking bitch, Callie,” he muttered, “you fucking slut, I’m gonna give it to you up your arse, you wait…”
“Oh no!” I cried, starting to feel scared. Paul had crossed the line, he was lost in his fantasy, this was no longer a mutual thing. He pulled my buttocks apart and spat on my anus and I moaned in horror. He shoved a finger into me, although he barely needed to, I had been buggered three times already and my ass was loose enough. I wriggled in his grip but he was strong.
He pushed my face into the duvet, muffling my cries of protest, and then I felt him mount my hips and the hot helmet of his prick rubbing at the slippery cleft of my arse. Paul wanted to bugger his little sister and because he couldn’t have her, he was going to do it to me instead. I had gone into this expecting it to be like the other times, but it wasn’t.
“Ohh, no, Paul, please!” I sobbed into the depths of the duvet, but then he grunted and he was shoving the stiff head of his penis into the socket of my arse and I went “AAAHH!” in agony. I sprawled nude underneath him on the bed as he forced himself into me and my stomach lurched as I felt him easing his entire length into my hole. Callie’s shorts and thong were tangled around one ankle. Her t-shirt was still wrapped around my head, trapping my arms. Paul let my head up so that I could breathe and I sobbed “Oh, please, no, no, no, Paul, please, please don’t,” but he humped me violently and I moaned “UuunnNNHH!” as his meat tunnelled into my rectum.
“Take me, you little bitch,” he gasped, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or to Callie. “Say you like my cock in your arse. Say it.” He reached around me and grabbed my own cock in his fist and pulled on it.
“OOOOH!” I squealed, my face contorted, as Paul kept on driving his member into my arse, and the t-shirt covering my face was getting damp with my tears.
“Say you like having my cock in your arse!” he rasped into my ear.
“I love it,” I sobbed, “I love it, I love it…ooohh, please…please…”
Saying it made it seem more true. Paul groaned as he came into my rectum and I wept as my own cock responded with a weak spurt of cum. He kept on humping me for several seconds, forcing his dick into me, and I heard squelching noises as his cock slid in and out of my cum-sodden arsehole. I whimpered with shame and humiliation. He squeezed my naked bottom as he urged his prick into my arsehole one last time, then he pulled out of me and left me sprawled on my face, naked and sobbing.
He got off the bed and left the room, and it was several minutes before I could pull myself together enough to roll over and sit up. I pulled the t-shirt off my head and sat on the bed, breathing heavily.
So it had got out of hand. Nobody could have known that Paul had such dark fantasies about his sister; I wiped my eyes and reflected that it was better that he act them out on me, rather than her. I couldn’t quite decide whether or not he had, technically speaking, raped me; I had followed him into the bedroom with the express intention of having sex with him. The sex itself had been of a character that I hadn’t wanted and I had withdrawn my consent – hadn’t I? Hadn’t I asked him not to do it? I couldn’t quite remember. In any case, he hadn’t really been bum-fucking me, he’d been bum-fucking Callie. I had merely been her stand-in.
“You okay?” said a voice. I looked up; John was in the doorway, wearing his t-shirt and shorts, looking at me with concern. “I saw Paul come out,” he added, by way of explanation. His eyes roved around the room and he saw Callie’s clothes on the floor. He looked at me again and I felt myself about to go.
John came in and sat next to me on the bed and put his arms around me. I wept a little. He stroked me and soothed me and after a few minutes I felt better.
“Sorry,” I muttered, wiping my eyes. “Such a strange night. Paul got a bit emotional.”
“About Callie, was it?” John said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“He’s always had a thing about her,” John sighed. “I’m glad I’m not attracted to him. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with all that baggage he carries around.”
“It wasn’t even that bad,” I said. “I mean, I wanted him. But not that way. He wasn’t doing it to me.”
“You get used to it, sweetie,” said John, and we smiled. “The number of married men I’ve shagged who were putting somebody else’s face on my body, you wouldn’t believe.”
“I don’t know if I’m gonna make a habit of this,” I said. “I think this is maybe a one-night thing. Or maybe as long as we’re here. I couldn’t take the lifestyle.”
“You’d be a sad loss,” he said. “I’ve fancied you for years.”
“I thought you had,” I said with a smile. “I always like it when you flirt with me.”
“Yeah, and it’s a funny thing,” he said. “I’m the only one here who really fancies you, and I haven’t even had you.”
“Hey, I sucked your cock,” I protested, grinning and feeling my face go red. “I wouldn’t have done that for anybody else.”
He looked into my eyes, an amused expression on his face. Then he leaned forward and we kissed. The memory of what had happened with Paul was already fading. John touched my cock and I felt myself getting hard yet again.
“It’s not too late, you know,” I whispered as he tenderly kissed my neck.
“What’s not,” he murmured absently.
“We can still fuck. I mean, if you want to.”
“You still up for it?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I would have thought Paul would have put you off.”
“Well…you might want to be gentle with me,” I giggled.
John gave my penis a squeeze, and I gasped. I was quietly amazed at myself, so willing to let another man take me when I had never even fantasised about men before. And all John’s experience was with men.
“Can I sleep with you?” I asked. “In your bed?”
He chuckled. “Come on, then,” he said, rising and holding out his hand.
I took it and he led me across the landing into his room. There was a king-size bed. I lay on it, on my back, and John shut the door and stripped off. He got on the bed and crawled up to me, looking down at me, and smiling.
“You’ve had the rest,” he murmured. “Now have the best.”
He took my face in his hands and began to kiss me, his tongue in my mouth, and he lay on top of me so that our cocks and balls were pressed together. At first I was surprised; the other guys had mostly just wanted to fuck my ass, and I’d assumed that was what they all wanted to do to me. But John was treating me not like a sex object, but like a lover. He was running his hands all over my body, and because I was so smooth and hairless it felt incredibly intense. I was already hard, but in only a few moments I was gasping with desire. He caressed my bald skull and his lips were all over my face. Then his hand was holding my cock and pulling on it gently and I sighed softly. John moved down my body and his lips closed around my cock and I moaned, “Ohh, Jesus,” as he began to lick and suck me. None of the others had been even slightly interested in my cock; Paul had wanted to pretend that I wasn’t even a man.
He licked and kissed and encircled my cock with his tongue for many minutes, and then he was reaching under my ass and probing it with a finger, and I was dying for him to fuck me. His tongue was that of a virtuoso. He was making me feel kinds of pleasure I’d never dreamed of. He parted my thighs and put his face between them and licked me, his tongue dragging over my shaved perineum, and I whimpered, “Oh, Jesus, John, oh please, fuck me, please…”
“Hasty,” he whispered, and he took my balls in his mouth and his tongue brushed them. “Oooh!” I sighed, my voice breaking slightly, and he pushed into my anus with a finger. I squirmed, desperate for him to enter me, to really fuck me, to really make me his the way the others had. He pushed at my buttocks a little and I eagerly rolled onto my stomach, but he merely parted them with his hands and dragged his tongue over my sticky anus, still smeared with other men’s cum. I rubbed my face into the sheet and went “OOOH! Oh god! Oh yeah! Oh please, now, please, John, please…”
He kept doing it, licking my arse with his tongue, hauling on my cock, snuffling with his face between my naked buttocks, and then I felt his tongue pushing into me a little and I was so agonisingly horny I clenched my teeth and groaned “EEUUNNH!” into the sheet. I was practically weeping with desire. John seemed to be feeling it, too, for he moved up from my ass and his tongue stitched a line of kisses up my slender back until he was at long last mounted on my naked hips, his cock sliding easily between my greasy buttocks.
He kissed the back of my shaven head and I moaned as he slowly, sensuously worked his long thin beautiful cock into the tingling, pulsing socket of my arse. I lay on my belly, pierced by John’s penis, and I wanted nothing else than to be there at that moment, feeling that. I was making indescribable noises as he eased his cock in and out of me, fucking me long and slow and hard and kissing my face as he did so and murmuring in my ear about what a fucking sexy bitch I was. I came, to my amazement, half-weeping and half-laughing beneath him, and he dabbled his fingers in my still-warm cum and smeared it over my face as I made guttural moans and slobbered onto the sheet. Then I felt him cumming deliciously inside me and I was wonderfully satisfied and content.
He pulled out of me and got off me, and I curled up next to him and purred with pleasure. I was only then realising how exhausted I was. Apart from the fact that I’d had sex five times – which for me was totally unprecedented with anyone – it had been with men. The emotional intensity of it was more draining than the physical exertion. I had allowed them to turn me into a panting, whimpering ass-slut.
“I don’t know anything any more,” I murmured sleepily as John cradled me in his arms.
“What do you mean?” he replied.
“I mean, am I straight, am I gay, who fucking knows. That was the most amazing night of my life. But I know that next time I walk down a street, I’m gonna be looking at the girls’ asses, not the guys’.”
“Hey, it’s your choice, sweetie,” he chuckled and patted my bald head. “Nobody’s making you wear a boa and listen to disco. You work it out yourself. The rest of us had to.”
I don’t remember anything after that. I must have slept.