Part 26 – Normal People
November
***
The smell of sausage drifted across Trevor's nose. Disoriented, he struggled for a moment to remember where he was. His memory slowly materialized. After they'd finished, Alan had warned Trevor about his nasty snoring problem and advised him to use the guest bedroom; Trevor had agreed, and this was where he'd ended up. He looked around. His clothing had been gathered and placed in a heap on the dresser. A comfortable basement room, cool and clean and simple. Trevor swung his legs over the edge of the queen-size bed, shaking the cobwebs from his head. What time was it? Sunday, he knew that. Morning? Afternoon? The light shining through the short window above the bed told him it was day. Well, that was good, anyway.
He stood and slid into his pants. To hell with the shirt, he thought and he walked from the room into the basement bathroom. Business complete, he plodded up the stairs, following the aroma of pork and pancakes. His stomach growled. How long since he'd eaten?
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, he saw Alan standing at an electric griddle, spatula in hand, dressed in plaid cotton boxers and an apron. Alan glanced up. "Good morning."
"Hey," Trevor replied, rubbing his eyes. Ah, a clock on the stove. Twenty until eleven, alright.
Alan flipped four pancakes to the plate and rolled a trio of link sausages from the skillet on the stove. "Did you sleep well?" He opened a cabinet and retrieved a syrup caddy, placing it on the table as he handed Trevor the plate and poured the wrestler a glass of something orange-ish.
"Great." Trevor slathered a pad of butter across the pancakes and drizzled syrup from the container labeled 'Maple.'
A noise to his side drew his gaze. Paul and Damian materialized, Paul in pajama bottoms and white slippers, his hair wild with bed-head, and Damian in a robe designed for a man a foot shorter. Paul stepped behind Alan and slid his arms in under the apron, nuzzling his five-o'clock shadow into the programmer's neck. "Hey, babe." Damian sat at the table. The couple exchanged a peck and remained glued front to back as Alan poured a new batch of pancake batter onto the griddle. "So, tell us about yourself, Trevor," Paul said without turning.
"I'm in school. I'm on the wrestling team."
"Where? What're you studying?" Trevor told him; they expended a couple of minutes on the obligatory follow-up questions. Damian stared straight ahead, bleary-eyed and disinterested.
Alan handed Paul a plate of food; Paul detached long enough to slide it in front of Damian then nuzzled back into his boyfriend. "What about you?" Trevor asked after dedicating a moment to his meal.
"Oh, I'm a graphic designer. I mostly work on web sites. I do all the pretty buttons and pictures you look at. In fact," Paul turned and sat at the table as Trevor cut a bite out of a pancake, "that's how Alan and I met. He builds the programming behind the website. He contracted for the company I used to work at, and we teamed up on some projects. He did the back end and I did the front end."
Alan didn't turn. "He didn't ask about our love life, dear."
Trevor snorted and nearly gagged. "He's choking on your sausage, Alan," Paul retorted with a glimmer in his eye.
"I hope we can say that again later on," Alan remarked drily as he flipped another batch off the griddle. Trevor laughed again. Damian ignored them all. Alan slid the plate in front of Paul. "I need to talk with you about something."
"What's that?"
"A couple of guys I met last night. They're down on their luck and they need a place to stay for a while. I told them to come by around one and we'd talk about it. I thought if you agreed we could let them use the guest bedroom."
"Alright."
Alan leaned back against the counter while the griddle sizzled. "What time do you want to go home, Trevor?"
Trevor waved his hand dismissively. "Whenever. I don't have anything I need to do today."
"If you don't care, then it'll be late this afternoon." He smiled. "I want to look at you for a while longer."
"Hear, hear!" called Paul. "You haven't brought home something this yummy since your mom sent you those brownies." Trevor blushed and grinned and shook his head and the older men laughed at his discomfiture. Damian popped the last bite into his mouth without a word.
Alan unplugged the griddle and joined the other men at the table, choosing apricot syrup. Paul looked at Trevor. "I heard the camera moving around. Did you enjoy the show?"
Damian looked up sharply. "You were watching?"
"Oh, hell, Damian," Paul snapped. "You know about that thing. Why do you always act so surprised about it?"
Damian shook his head. "I just don't want anybody watching, that's all."
"Trevor knows who he is," Alan interjected.
"Alright, then," Paul turned to Trevor. "I assume Alan told you he's in the closet. So you're going to blab all over creation about him, right?"
Trevor lifted an eyebrow. "I wasn't planning on it."
"You see? Now would you just chill out?"
"Easy for you to say," Damian snapped. "You don't have a fucking multimillion dollar career hanging on it, do you?"
"Alright," Alan said calmly, raising his hand. "Damian, Trevor's cool. You don't need to worry about him. I swear," Alan paused for a bite of pancake. "You two bicker like an old couple. Makes me wonder what you see in each other."
"Nobody else has a cock like that," Paul grumbled.
"Nobody else can take my cock like that," Damian responded sheepishly.
"It was pretty impressive," Trevor offered graciously. Both men smiled, each thinking the compliment was for him.
Damian leaned back, relaxing, his mood improving. "You should see his magic throat," he blurted.
"What about it?"
"The bitch can make a flagpole disappear." Damian looked at Paul. "Wanna show him?"
Paul regarded him a moment. "Alright, get yourself hard. Let me finish my breakfast." Damian grinned and opened his robe, rubbing his soft cock. Even flaccid, it almost reached his navel, Trevor noted. Damn. His eyes kept creeping over as they talked, watching it grow while Alan and Paul ate and chatted about something having to do with the back yard.
After a couple of minutes, Damian caught him looking. "You wanna touch it, don't you?" Trevor grinned in spite of himself. He kind of did. "Yeah, I thought so. All you white boys wanna grab Big Blackie." He turned his chair. "Come on over." Trevor slid over with a scrape and reached out, tentatively grasping the shaft with his thumb and forefinger; they didn't touch. "Go ahead, this snake won't bite," Damian coaxed. Trevor chuckled and gripped it, stroking a little. "That's a two-handed dick, bro." Damian grabbed his spare hand and guided it; three inches still protruded.
Trevor stared, fascinated. "Damn." He didn't really know what to -do- with it, but he liked holding it. He felt a faint pulse in the warm spongy hardness. He enjoyed the contrast in skin pigmentation with his own fingers.
"Come on down and see what you can get into your mouth." Damian's fingers pressed gently against the back of Trevor's head; he didn't resist. He engulfed the head, but he couldn't get the thickness past his palette; even so, the sheer girth filled his mouth. A dick big enough to fill two hands and a mouth, Trevor thought, more than a little enthralled.
He heard Paul put his fork on the plate and slide his chair back. "Alright," Paul said. "Time to put the skills to work." Trevor stood as Paul knelt between Damian's legs. Alan started clearing the table. Paul gripped the base of Damian's member and split his mouth wide, slipping in four inches, then five. He wiggled his head, his throat making a gurgling sound, and pushed further, pulling the cock down as he straightened his neck. Six inches, seven, eight. He closed his lips and pulled them back along the shaft as he drew back, choking just a little.
"Woah," Trevor said, impressed.
"You can do better than that," the black man chided. Paul took a breath and dove in again, seven, eight, nine. One last gurgle buried his nose in the black man's pubes. "Yeah, that's it, bitch," Damian muttered approvingly. Paul pulled back and off, catching his breath, rubbing his fingers slowly across the film of saliva he'd left behind. "Let's show him the real trick," the athlete suggested.
Paul stood and clambered onto the cleared table. Lying on his back, he hung his head over the edge. Trevor's eyebrows rose as Damian stepped close and pushed his erection into Paul's open mouth until his sizable testicles squashed against the designer's nose. Trevor noted Paul's throat actually bulging a little as the athlete's cockhead snaked into it. "Holy shit," Trevor breathed, awestruck as Damian pulled back a few inches and thrust, setting a gentle pace, burying himself to the hilt each time.
Paul's face reddened; after a minute, he gripped Damian's waist and guided him away; Damian carefully withdrew as Paul coughed and sat up, heaving as he caught his breath. "Damn, I love that thing," the designer remarked.
Damian closed his robe, glancing at the clock. "Alright, I hate to get hard and run, but I gotta get going." He disappeared down the hall.
Paul glared after him. "I hate it when he does that." Shrugging it off, he stood and started loading the dishes into the dishwasher.
"We've got a couple of hours," Alan remarked, looking at Trevor. "If you want to clean up, the shower is at your disposal."
***
He was surprised at himself, Trevor reflected as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He'd met Alan and Paul less than twenty-four hours ago and he already felt perfectly comfortable eating their food and using their shower. They’d engaged in an hour and a half of conversation after Damian had left, simply discussing life and ideas ranging from pizza and politics to horticulture and acupuncture. The pair's easygoing attitude had put him at ease. At school, he'd always been around the athletes, the cheerleaders, the pretty crowd. Such airs they put on, always hiding behind their image of popularity. He had to admit to being guilty of that himself more often than he'd care to admit - trying to adopt an image to be accepted. He supposed it grated on him at some level but had been something he'd gotten used to, like a pair of jeans that chafed a little but looked so good. Publicly brash and handsome, privately insecure and anything but confident, it had taken a chubby woman, a chick with tiny boobs, and his hick cousin to break him out of that loop. All those star athletes and trussed up cheerleaders he’d tried so hard to impress meant nothing to him now.
The facade had resumed to some degree as he began college, he suddenly realized, and he hadn't even given it a second thought. He’d begun slipping back into those old habits. Not as far as before, but it was still two steps forward and one step back. He was trying to fit in with the pretty people. Maybe that was one reason he liked Brandon. Brandon could be part of the pretty crowd, but somehow seemed above it, beyond it, like he'd grown up and left the children behind. Brandon represented something Trevor aspired to.
Alan and Paul were part of the Normal People, the sort of people who had grown up invisible, had never made waves, had never quite conformed to the idealized Calvin Klein and Glamour image of society. The irony was that they were deeper, more interesting and fascinating and engaging than any of the pretty crowd. They met his eyes as he spoke, listened to him, evaluated his thoughts; perhaps they disagreed, or even pointed out flaws in his thinking, but they always considered what he had to say as worthy of hearing. They were who they were and expected him to accept it; in return, they accepted him without bias - they saw beyond the image of his well-formed body and his pretty face to the flawed person underneath, and they didn't recoil. Instead, they offered him respect and treated him like an adult. They might appreciate his body, but their approach was to build a bridge to his mind and his soul. The pair made a good couple, Trevor reflected; they seemed to have the same basic outlook on life, but with complementary methods of approaching it.
That was it, wasn't it? Trevor turned off the water and reached for the towel. Brandon's outlook was completely different from Trevor's. They had great sex, they both loved the other's body, even shared a certain emotional attachment, but that little something that made them click, that made them want to take the same path together just wasn't there. It just wasn’t going to work.
Trevor suddenly choked up. Damn, where'd that come from? He shoved the thought away as his jaw set. No, I love him. I'm going to make it work. I don't care what it takes.
He slid his arms into the thick robe Alan had provided him, tying it closed. Opening the door, the cooler air rushed across his face and his feet as the steam swirled. He wandered to the living room. He saw Paul leaning back against Alan’s ribs on the sofa; they watched some sitcom recorded on TiVo, sharing the laughs. They had evidently dressed while he was in the shower, clothed in comfortable, loose attire. Trevor gazed wistfully at them a moment, envious. Who would do that with him for the rest of his life? Who would sit next to him and share their life and laugh at the same dumb jokes? Not Brandon, he knew that. There wasn't anybody.
Alan glanced back, beckoning Trevor to join them on the broad sofa. Trevor obliged, staring blankly at the television while the couple smiled and chuckled, lost in his own self-pity.
After a few minutes, the doorbell rang. Alan stood and walked to the front door as Paul paused and turned off the television show. Alan greeted the visitors, leading them into the living room, inviting them to take a seat in the overstuffed chairs to the side. Paul's eyes tracked them; he grinned playfully at Alan as the programmer retook his seat next to his boyfriend. "You didn't say they were twins," Paul said softly, his eyes teasing. Alan grunted noncommittally.
"So why don't you explain your situation to Paul like you did to me."
Jim turned to Sam. The swimmer leaned forward. "It's pretty simple, really. Our parents kicked us out a few months ago and we're out of money."
"Do you have jobs?" Paul asked.
"Part time. School and sports keep us too busy to work more than that. We'll quit if we have to, but we were hoping not to."
"They won a few hundred dollars last night," Alan explained, "but that's not enough to prevent eviction."
Paul nodded. "Why did your parents kick you out?"
Jim blushed and looked away. Sam grinned. "They caught us with his dick in my butt." Paul chuckled. "Which was strange because it's usually the other way around. Now they've got completely the wrong idea." Alan and Paul laughed heartily. Trevor emerged from his funk long enough to smile.
"Anyway, they're very traditional people, and we'd been giving them a hard time for a while. This was sort of the last straw, you know."
"We can't really blame them," Jim chimed in with a lopsided smile. "Try dealing with sons who make rebellion a team sport. I guess the real world has been good for us." He paused. "We're not looking for handouts. It's just that something has to give. Either we pay less to live or we quit school to make more money. What we did last night was kind of desperate, and when it didn't work out we were thinking that's what we'd have to do." He nodded at Alan. "He said you might be able to help out."
Alan and Paul looked at each other. "Same as the last guy?"
The designer nodded. "Yeah, that worked pretty well."
Alan leaned forward. "We can offer you the guest bedroom, but you'll have to share. Rent is ten dollars a month, we'll take care of utilities and food. You have to contribute to the household. If you have a few minutes, run the vacuum over the floor, or put away the dishes, or wipe the counter, or scrub the bathtub. Do whatever you see needs to be done. Mow the lawn if you're here that long. Pick up after yourselves."
"And do the grocery shopping," Paul added.
Alan nodded. "We both loathe shopping. We'll give you a pre-loaded debit card, and we expect you to keep the house well-stocked with nutritious and fresh food. Junk food's on your dime.
Sam and Jim looked at each other, surprised. "That's it? Ten bucks?"
"And your time doing the things we just said. In essence, you're the maids and the groundskeepers, so this is not a free ride. No curfew, clear any company with us, keep the noise down if we're asleep. And don't think for a second that we won't kick you back out on the street if you break the agreement. Stay in school, keep your jobs."
Paul leaned forward with an impish grin. "Do all that and walk around here naked once in a while and we'll call it even."
Sam and Jim chuckled and nodded to each other. "When can we move in?" Sam asked.
"Whenever you want."
"Good. Our landlord tossed all our stuff out this morning. It's in our cars outside. We had to leave the furniture behind, so it's just small stuff."
"Alright," Alan said, standing. "Let's get it downstairs." He turned to Trevor. "Would you mind getting dressed and giving us a hand?"
Trevor shrugged. "Sure." Something to do.
***
The five men made quick work of the hauling; random clothes and books and a few beat-up electronics stuffed helter skelter into the seats and trunks of a pair of run-down cars migrated downstairs into a heap on the bed over the space of twenty minutes. The twins said they'd organize it later and they headed back to the living room.
"So," Sam said as they sat on the overstuffed furniture, "Jim and I figured we'd like to give you a little something for helping us."
"What's that?" Paul asked.
Jim grinned. "Matching blowjobs."
Paul laughed, glancing over at Alan. "You were right."
"What?" asked Sam.
"He said you two were a little bit crazy."
"Well," Sam said, standing. Jim followed his lead. "He was right." The twins knelt in front of Paul and Alan. Sam worked at Paul's pants; Jim pulled Alan's open. Within moments, both men had their rapidly-rising cock in the twins' mouths. Trevor watched with interest, remembering the night before. The two were not going to be satisfied with merely giving blowjobs, he realized. They were too horny for that. He felt his own groin stir at the sight.
Paul and Alan leaned together and kissed playfully as the younger men sucked and stroked at their wet cocks with skill. After a few moments, Alan glanced over. "How rude," he remarked. "We're ignoring our guest."
All four men looked at him, smiling lasciviously. Trevor laughed uncomfortably. "No, it's alright. I'm just watching."
Paul stood. "Bullshit." He gripped Trevor's wrist, pulling him to his feet. He slid his hands under the wrestler's shirt. "I've been looking at your sexy ass all day and I still haven't gotten a taste." He looked at the other men. "Think the four of us can make his toes curl?"
Trevor shook his head. It was more than a little surreal. The other three stood and surrounded him like a pack of viciously over-friendly dogs; hands crawled all over him. Within moments, he stood naked, dick hard, the couple behind him, the twins in front of him. Jim leaned in and kissed him sensually; his brother did the same while Alan and Paul nuzzled into his neck and rubbed their cocks against Trevor's hips. Trevor started running out of air.
Alan noted his nervous movements. "Feeling overwhelmed?" he whispered. Trevor nodded. "Use it. Take control. Channel it into your sex drive."
Trevor took a breath and closed his eyes, willing himself into control as the hands roamed over his body. Reaching back, he gripped Paul's head in the crook of his arm and craned his neck, pressing his lips against the designer's. The kiss lingered, slow and deep as the two slid their tongues back and forth.
Warm breath washed against Trevor’s thigh and he looked as Sam's tongue contacted his scrotum; Jim knelt next to his brother and ran his lips across the underside of the wrestler's shaft. Trevor's eyes closed as he leaned back against Paul and Alan and Alan's fingers slid up and down his crack, massaging the tender flesh as Sam's mouth enveloped his cockhead.
The next minutes passed in a blur. The couple knelt behind him; he stood like an idol god as his worshippers groveled around him, Alan and Paul alternately lapping at his asshole while the twins took turns sucking his cock. He watched Jim and Sam. They looked so much the same; only their musculature made them distinguishable. But they acted completely differently, as diverse as two brothers could be. Sam, the lean, lithe swimmer, dominant and aggressive, intense and urgent and passionate. He sucked hard, deep. Jim, the ripped gymnast, less overt but more sensual, less domineering but more in control. He took his time on Trevor’s cock, sensed Trevor’s reactions, got it right. Trevor’s eyes rolled back as Alan tickled and teased his asshole with his fingers and his tongue.
Trevor glanced to his side as a cabinet closed. Paul had retrieved a box of condoms and a container of lubricant; he set them on the table and pulled his shirt over his head. He handed Jim a condom. The gymnast tore it open and rolled it over Trevor's shaft as Paul stepped out of his pants. Lubricant in hand, Paul slid between the twins and bent over, pushing back against the wrestler's cock. Trevor gripped the other man's waist and watched the side of his face open in pleasure as the wrestler's erection slipped deep into his ass. Paul stood, his back pressing against Trevor’s chest, the wrestler’s cock angled into him. The older man craned his neck and they kissed.
Alan, nude, stepped around and faced his boyfriend; their shafts crossed in front of the twins and the younger men dove in, trading cocks, kissing and licking at them together and in turn. Alan and Paul gently made out as Trevor established a steady rhythm.
As the minutes passed, the twins kissed the couple's cocks less and kissed each other more. Suddenly Sam slid between the men as he pushed his brother onto his back; the pair made out as they awkwardly tugged at each other's clothing. Sam slipped Jim's briefs over his feet and threw the gymnast's ankles onto his shoulders. "Oh, wow," breathed Alan as Sam's wedged his cock against Jim's asshole, dribbling saliva.
"You're the one with the twin fetish," Paul remarked. "Why don't you go watch them while I get this stud to pound me for a while."
Alan stepped over to the brothers. "Fuck me," Paul ordered as he bent over, leaning against the arm of the sofa. Trevor obliged, his thighs slapping against the designer's ass. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Paul's hair. "Oh, yeah," Paul cried as Trevor jerked his head back and pounded harder, the first trickles of sweat crawling down his ribs.
Alan had planted his feet on either side of Jim; Sam sucked his cock while he pounded his brother. The threesome had angled such that Trevor watched them in profile. Jim’s eyes closed as he moaned softly and stroked his cock; Alan’s hand rested on Sam’s hair as his hips thrust just a little, in time with Sam’s bobbing head.
So damn kinky, Trevor thought. Brothers fucking. Twin brothers fucking. Sexy twin brothers fucking. Would he fuck his brother? Not in a million years, he told himself. So hot to watch them, though. He pounded harder as Paul egged him on.
Finally, Paul reached back and touched Trevor’s waist. “Hold up.” He slid forward with a little grunt; Trevor watched his asshole wink as his cock slipped out. “I’ve never met a pair of gay twins before,” Paul announced as he withdrew a pair of condoms and gripped the lube, “and I’m sure as hell going to take advantage of it.”
Guiding Alan out of the way, Paul knelt and deftly applied a condom to Jim’s cock as his brother kept fucking him. Straddling the gymnast, he aimed the head into his anus and settled back with a sigh. He handed Sam the other condom. “Trade out and get in there.”
Alan had stepped next to Trevor. “Double penetrated by twins,” he mused. “That’s on the to-do list.”
Paul established a steady rhythm while Sam swapped out his prophylactic and applied a liberal amount of lubricant. The swimmer knelt behind Paul and wedged his cock against his brother’s while Jim’s hips thrust slowly. Paul’s face scrunched as Sam slipped into him. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed, pressing back as both cocks buried themselves to the hilt. “Hold still,” he directed and he rocked back and forth slowly, impaling himself on the twins. Within moments, Sam lost patience and gripped the older man’s shoulders, thrusting deep into him as Paul moaned.
“Is he alright?” Trevor asked softly.
“Oh, he’s in seventh heaven. In his world, the only thing better than two dicks is more. Come on.” Alan guided Trevor over to the trio; they stood on either side of Jim’s head. Alan slapped his cock against Paul’s face. Paul had been engrossed; he opened his eyes with a smile of surprised delight and engulfed his boyfriend’s erection with a slurp.
The twins fucked Paul together, Sam hard and fast, Jim using steady, deep thrusts. Paul balanced himself on one hand and stroked Alan’s cock while he sucked Trevor’s. Minutes passed as Paul swapped back and forth, his body jerking as the swimmer’s waist slammed into him.
As he looked down watching Paul, Trevor noted Jim staring at his cock and balls. Jim’s hand gripped his calf, groping. “I need this fucker in my ass,” he declared. Trevor grinned. Maybe not so shy after all. Sam stood and Paul rolled off, a satisfied grin splashed across his face.
Trevor kneeled at Jim’s ass and pushed his legs back, holding them in place with his forearm; he studied Jim’s asshole. Pink and clean and fresh. Fascinated, he poked at it, inserting his finger, feeling the warmth of the gymnast’s body. He explored it, felt the flesh quiver and pulsate. He felt the resistance of the inner sphincter; he pressed his finger through it, hearing Jim moan as he wiggled the tip. He took his time, the men around him watching silently. He pulled his finger out and the pinkness called to him. He leaned in and tickled it with the tip of his tongue, tasting its reflexive reaction, hearing Jim sigh contentedly. He turned his body, tucking the gymnast’s legs under his arm as he poked at the hole with both index fingers; he inserted them then spread, prying Jim’s body open, peering at the fleshy hole as the twin twitched and moaned. Trevor leaned in, curious, and slid his tongue into the hole, wiggling it around. So horny, he thought. So fucking horny I’m willing to try anything. He pressed his fingers in deeper and pried wider; he flicked his tongue in and out as Jim’s hand gripped his shoulder in desperation.
A condom materialized in front of him. “Fuck my brother,” Sam demanded. Trevor released Jim and applied the latex and the lube. He so wanted to fuck. This hot, horny little bitch. He wanted that pink hole clamped onto his cock. He spread Jim’s legs wide and aimed. He rammed in to the hilt as Jim yelped. He pulled all the way out and rammed back in. Again. Jim clawed at the carpet. Trevor angled himself, experimenting, finding the perfect position as he rammed his cock in and yanked it out. There it was; he gripped Jim’s ankles with both hands and fucked him like that. Ram balls-deep. All the way out. Over and over, Jim’s face contorted in that delicious pain that racked him, his stone-hard cock bouncing with each penetration. Finally, Trevor missed, his cock sliding up against the gymnast’s balls. Enough of this shit, he thought, and he shoved his cock in and fucked deep and hard.
Sam lowered himself over his brother; Jim’s face dug into Sam’s ass as the swimmer leaned down, sucking and jacking Jim’s cock. Trevor glanced up. Alan and Paul had moved to the couch; Paul had sat back against Alan’s chest and rode his cock. Something about the sight struck Trevor. The couple kissed deeply, passionately, hardly even paying heed to what he and the twins did. Their thrusts and strokes were in perfect synch. They knew each other and moved as if they understood exactly what the other wanted; they had fucked countless times before, and it was somehow deeper, more intimate than what he was doing. It was as if everything before had been mere foreplay, and they were having the real sex with each other. They weren’t mere partners; they were lovers. The passion, the depth, seeing it turned Trevor on and he tore into Jim anew. He pushed the gymnast’s legs back until they squashed against his brother’s shoulders; he felt his cock ramming into the rectal wall, sensed the knob of Jim’s swollen prostate as his head hammered into it again and again, and Jim’s voice pitched higher. His body shook. Within seconds, his anus contracted around Trevor’s cock. His brother sucked frantically, taking the load in his mouth.
Finally, Sam rose and shoved Trevor roughly out of the way without a word. He crouched down and dribbled Jim’s semen down his crack. Kneeling, he scooped at the milky fluid with his cock and shoved it in, the bubbly cum churning into foam as his cock slid in and out of the slippery hole.
Trevor straddled Jim’s face; the gymnast ran his tongue across the wrestler’s scrotum, sucking at his balls. Trevor jacked hard as he watched the brothers fuck; he noted that Sam’s antics had drawn Paul and Alan’s full attention. They gazed intently at the scene as they fucked.
The orgasm came quickly. It was unremarkable, much the same as hundreds before; Trevor’s body tensed and his eyes closed as his semen spurted onto the gymnast’s chest amongst that delicious relief and pleasure. Within seconds, Sam grunted; he thrust hard, his eyes squeezed shut as he ejaculated into his brother’s ass, his face red, his forehead framed by protruding veins. His eyes opened as the orgasm passed; he slid down instantly, burying his face into Jim’s ass, licking up the gymnast’s foamy cum, lapping at his own semen as it oozed from his brother’s body.
“That’s going to do it for me,” Alan mumbled.
“Fuck, me too,” Paul declared; within seconds, the couple came, united in their pleasure. Paul’s cum squirted and dribbled over his fingers as he rocked over Alan’s body; Alan’s load shot deep into his boyfriend’s body. The pair kissed, deeply, lovingly as the pleasure passed. Paul settled comfortably back against Alan’s chest, the programmer’s cock buried in his body, tinges of cum seeping out around it.
Alan met Trevor’s gaze. “You want to clean up again before I take you home?”
or watch me fuck a guy 
) so it proabably wouldnt be too interesting for you.
