The Game: First Down (3 page)

“Oh, God,” he grunted, licking his lips.
“That’s good…!”

“Mmhm,” Paul responded, making eye contact
with Vince as he started fondling his balls. Vince felt them
tighten in his hand.

“Fuck, man. You’re gonna have me shootin’
pretty soon.”

“Mmhm,” Paul said again, sucking even harder,
twisting his head each time he reared back to the tip. Vince
groaned. Paul really knew how to milk his cock.

“That what you want?” he panted, his hips
beginning to buck a little into Paul’s mouth. The wet smacking
sound that followed almost pushed him over the edge. It sounded
just like ramming into some slut’s juicy pussy. “Yeah? You want a
nice big mouthful?” He started playing with his nipples again,
urging his dick to swell between Paul’s shiny, hot lips. “Suck that
dick, Paul. Get those fuckin’ balls. I’m gonna give you all the cum
you can handle, you fuckin’ faggot.”

Paul’s eyelashes fluttered. He looked like he
was enjoying the abuse. As he tugged and molested Vince’s heavy
sac, the older man bit his lip and started to thrust, fucking
Paul’s face properly. Paul extended an index finger toward Vince’s
asshole and brushed it over the short hairs surrounding it, making
him jump and gasp.

“Fuck no!” Vince growled, scooting back on
the couch. “Get away from my ass!” But Paul was persistent. He
prodded at the soft, puckered flesh with the tip of his finger,
never entering it in, but keeping Vince right on edge. Vince
relaxed. He remembered that he had all the control.

“You wanna play around with my asshole, huh?”
he asked, watching Paul slobber all over his cock. “You wanna make
me queer like you, fag?” A sudden pulse from his dick reminded him
how close he was and he gasped, clenching his toes into the carpet.
“Ooh, fuck! You’re gonna make me do it! I’m gonna cum! Turn
around!”

Paul dropped to the ground on his hands and
knees, turning around with his tight, toned ass up in the air for
Vince. He spread Paul’s cheeks and slid his dick between them, not
in Paul’s ass – that would be queer – but just between the cheeks
like a hot dog in a bun, and began to thrust. Paul had gotten his
dick good and wet, allowing him to thrust and buck wildly between
his ass cheeks, grunting like an animal as his balls slapped
against Paul’s.

“Here it is!” he announced. “Here it
comes!”

Placing his tip right at Paul’s asshole,
Vince pressed against it and watched his dick erupt. It spewed jet
after jet of hot, sticky jizz all over Paul’s hole, some of it even
dribbling inside. Paul wrapped his hand around his dick and started
stroking desperately, his balls rhythmically tapping against
Vince’s. It only made him cum harder.

“Yeah! Oh, yeah!” he shouted, not caring who
might hear. “I’m cumming in your fucking ass, faggot! Fuck, it’s so
good!”

Paul gasped as Vince began to grind his balls
against his, his tip slipping and sliding over his asshole as he
did so. It didn’t take long before he was cumming too, soaking
Vince’s carpet with a massive load of thick, white spunk.

His knees shaking, Vince slowly sat back down
on the couch, looking down at Paul on all fours on the floor. A
cold little knot coiled up inside of him. What the hell had they
just done?

Paul turned to look at Vince over his
shoulder. He smiled.

“If ya liked that, just wait until us’n the
guys all get t’gether next time,” he whispered, breaking into a
mischievous grin. “You’re in for a real goddamn treat.”

Vince squeezed his sopping wet cock and
stared at Paul. Just what had he gotten himself into?

To be continued…

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... As he turned to face the man who had
caused him all manner of trouble ever since he’d come over just to
“watch the game,” Vince felt his eyes try their damnedest to eject
themselves from his skull.

Paul was dressed in the exact same uniform
that Sandra had been wearing – stockings, heels, petticoat and all.
The low neckline revealed the divot in his chest that separated his
bulging pectoral muscles, each one shining with what must have been
some kind of oil he’d rubbed on himself for the occasion. The
ripped blonde seemed almost comfortable in his achingly-tall pumps,
and Vince could see the tautness of his strong thighs, accentuated
by the sheer black thigh-highs he had donned, complete with
garters.

Vince found himself wondering just what
those garters attached to. Then he dismissed the thought, disgusted
with himself.

“
So,” Paul began, interrupting his
self-loathing with his syrupy drawl. His crystalline eyes fixed on
Vince’s as he offered him a beer bottle balanced precariously upon
a silver platter. “Can I getcha a drink?”

Vince stared at him, slack-jawed, unsure of
how to respond to the surreality of the scene before him. Just as
he was sussing it all out, Mark appeared over Paul’s shoulder,
leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his barrel-like
chest.

“
Vince,” he greeted coolly, his green eyes
glinting mischievously above his wolfish grin. “We’ve been waiting
for you.” ...