GOBBLE GOBBLE
By Zachyboy
b/b, oral, anal

I should have known when my mom and dad invited Casey Renning and his
family over for Thanksgiving dinner, it would end up not-normal. Well,
okay, not bad not-normal.  Kind of good not-normal, actually. But I will
say this: I used to think I was gay. Now I know I'm gay for sure, and I
guess I have Casey to thank for that confirmation

"But Mom," I whined. "You don't understand! Casey Renning has been
torturing me since fifth grade! He hates me!"

"You take him too seriously, Brian," my mom sighed, soaking her cranberries
in a strainer in the sink. No canned cranberry sauce for Trudy Barrett. My
mom's a "make-it-from-scratch" gal.

"Just try to make nice," she said, kissing my cheek and ignoring my
protests. "His dad just started working for Daddy. He's our new national
sales manager. Daddy and I thought it would be good to get to know his
family. Thanksgiving is perfect. And they had nowhere else to go. Judy's
mom died this year."

"Judy and Trudy," I moaned. "I can see it now. You two are going to be the
Centerline Mall Shopping Sisters, and I'm gonna be stuck in the food court
staring at Casey's scary face over cheese fries."

"Brain," she said in her warning voice, the one that goes up at the
end. "Drop it. Now. They're all coming over and that's the end of it."

I rolled my eyes and stomped up to my room and sat on my bed and recapped
what I knew about Casey. This was going to be trouble. Good trouble or bad
trouble, I didn't know yet. But with Casey involved, I knew it wasn't going
to be dull.

Let me explain.

My name's Brian Barrett.  I just turned 13.  Nothing too impressive about
that.  If you ask me, 13 feels like 12, and 12 feels like 11.  Maybe that's
the way life works.  You go through year after year aging, and you never
feel older than 11. You get a couple more pubes, but you still feel
11. Jesus, wouldn't that be scary?

Anyway, I'm getting off the subject.  Back to Casey.

Casey Renning has been a thorn in my side since kindergarten.  An
interesting, exciting thorn...but a thorn, definitely.

Living in a small town, the kids are the same, year after year.  New ones
pop up and old ones move off, but for the most part, it's the same mix.
So, basically, if you wind up sitting next to an asshole for that first
milk and cookie break when you're five, you better get used to him, because
you're stuck with him for life.

And boy, have I ever been stuck with Casey.

In first grade, he pinned me down on the playground, sat on my head and
farted right up my nose.  I should have known right then we were destined
for glory.  But of course, being a moron (i.e. "a nice, sweet boy," as my
mom puts it)...I figured I was cool enough and smart enough to keep Casey
on my good side.

Besides, even back then, there was something curiously exciting about
Casey. Even though he was mean to me, there was something about him that
captured my attention and just wouldn't let me go.  His picking on me made
me feel important somehow.

I mean, don't get me wrong.  He's still a grade-A, number one asswipe --
and there have been times when he's been downright mean to me -- but as
crazy as it sounds, there's something I like about that.  I don't know how
to explain it other than saying there's some kind of tension between us.
Something that feels dangerous.  Even back then, on the first grade
playground, it felt dangerous and good.

So, in second grade, half scared of him, half-amazed, stars in my eyes at
his nonstop daring, I started doing his homework for him.  True to form, he
repaid the favor by spilling his apple juice next to me in the lunch room
and telling forty people I pissed my pants.  He got a major date with the
principal's office, and I got to sit in the guidance counselor's office
until my mom brought me new clothes so I could change.

But I laughed about it.  Outside, I had to act like it pissed me off.  But
inside, I thought it was very, very cool.  I liked the attention.  Casey
picked on a lot of kids.  But when he did it to me, it felt special
somehow.

He never beat me up or anything -- for some unknown reason, he spared me
that particular joy (Lord knows, he shared it with others) -- but he still
managed to make my school life a series of headaches and embarrassments,
and puzzling, growing attraction, year after year.

I was like I almost dared him to go further.  It's like we had an unspoken
agreement.  He'd do something mean, I'd flip him off and call him an
asshole.  And I could see in his eyes how much he liked the attention he
was getting from me.

Through the years, Casey went for the ongoing, what's-going-to-happen-next
torture.  He flushed my third-grade book reports down the toilet.  He put
seventy dead flies in my bookbag in fourth.  Even I was impressed by that
one.  I mean, come on.  You're pretty committed to someone when you've got
the energy to round up seventy dead flies.

And last year in sixth, he stole my jock strap during gym class and pinned
it up to the bulletin board in the choir room.  That one was a real
crowd-pleaser, since my mom, in her infinite wisdom, decided to sew my name
inside the waistband.  To this day, I thank God there weren't any pee
stains.

He did something else with my jock strap in sixth grade.  One time in the
locker room, after gym class, after showers...he picked it up from the hook
inside my locker and pressed it to his face.  He made a big show of
smelling it, and licking it and moaning "mmmmmm" in a loud, funny voice,
that made everybody laugh, and made me turn beet red in embarrassment.

I grabbed it away from him and called him an asshole while he just laughed
and flicked a towel at my bare ass.  Humiliations were nothing new when
Casey had his flock of admirers around to impress.

And humiliated I was.  Being studious and a good student, I occasionally
heard the whisper of "fag" or "fem" in the hallways.  I didn't really think
much of it.  Hell, everybody calls everybody those names.  They don't
really mean anything.

But seeing Casey do his erotic little joke routine with my jockstrap was a
little over the line.  Especially since everybody laughed, and the story
would make it from one end of the school to the other by the end of the
day, which it did.

So, outwardly, I had to pretend I was pissed at him.  But secretly, I was
dazed.

I went home that night and jacked off furiously, replaying it my mind over
and over.  Watching him rub my sweaty jock against his nose...watching him
breathe in deeply, saying "mmmmmm"...watching his small tongue dart out,
licking the material.  It affected me very, very strongly.  It made me very
excited.  It wouldn't be the first time I masturbated, thinking back to
that locker room scene. What little cum I could make, I came over and over
again, thinking of Casey licking and smelling my jock that day.

I think I'm gay, but I don't really worry about it or make a big deal over
it. I mean, you'll never catch me at the beach, checking out guys asses and
going "woo-hoo" and stuff.  It's only Casey, for some reason.  When he's
around...I get nervous.  Sometimes I just feel...different.

And now he was going to be here for Thanksgiving. In my house. In my dining
room. Sitting on my couch watching football. Maybe even (God help me) up in
my room. How would that work? How do you take your arch enemy who you've
got the hots for and say, "hey, wanna come upstairs and play Wii-U?"

Anyway, here we are at the end of seventh grade -- Casey and I are both a
seasoned 13 -- old pros at the ongoing humiliation routine -- he's the
humiliator and I'm the humiliatee.  And actually, It's not too bad anymore,
since now he's older and moving on to more adult pursuits, like probably
impregnating his female relatives and robbing banks and whatever.

But Thanksgiving? Ugh. That's a whole different ballgame.

# # # # # # # # # #

When he came through the door with his parents, he smelled like he always
smelled.  Like a mixture of sneaky cigarettes and Speed Stick deodorant.  I
sort of liked that smell.

"Congratulations," I said to him, after his parents followed mine into the
kitchen.  "On your dad's promotion. I guess that makes us the top company
kids, huh?"

"Can't wait," he said dryly.  "You're such fun to hang around with."

"Yeah, well, Happy Thanksgiving," I said, feeling my heart pounding faster,
just standing near him like this.  I hoped he couldn't see me breaking a
sweat.  I don't know why he always made me feel this way.  All disorganized
and fluttery.

I cleared my throat and tried to act normal.  "Dinner's not for an
hour. You can come up to my room if you want. I've got Wii-U."

His eyes widened in mock pleasure.  He licked his lips slowly.  I tried to
act like that didn't excite me either.

"Why Brian, is this a date?" he cooed.  "Oh, my.  You know how much I've
always wanted to date you."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I drolled, my heart pounding madly in my chest.  I nodded
toward the stairs.

"Okay," he grinned, heading for the stairway and looking toward my
dick. "I've seen your downstairs, Barrett. We've all seen your
downstairs. Let's see what you've got upstairs."

I was instantly horrified.  What had I done?

Casey Renning was walking up to my bedroom. Casey. Me. In my bedroom.

Casey.  The thorn in my side.  The object of my secret jack-off sessions
for the past three years.

And in one half-minute he'd be in my bedroom.

Gulp.

What in God's name had I done?

# # # # # # # # # #

I'll be honest.  I was scared.  Ever since the jock strap incident,
everything between us was electric.  Oh sure, the insults and the practical
jokes and the torture went on like nothing had changed, but underneath it
all, there was some kind of playfulness in the teasing.

That thing he did where he licked his lips at me?  He did it a lot this
year.  I usually blushed and looked away.  But he kept on doing it.  And he
knew it made me nervous.

So, standing there at the bottom of the stairway freshly showered and
changed into my nice Thanksgiving sweater, trying to look casual, even
though I felt so nervous the hair on my head was actually starting to hurt,
I hoped beyond hope that maybe he'd get lost on the way up to my bedroom.

But nope.  No such luck.  He didn't even ask which one was mine. Just
opened the door on the top of the stairs and walked right in like it was
his. Tingling and sort of numb, I followed.

"Hey, big boy," he said, licking his lips at me again as I opened the
door. "Your loving man is here, ready to give you some sweet lovin."

Oh God.  Why did he have to start out with a line like that one?  This was
going to be a very, very difficult Thanksgiving.

"I better shut the door," I said, as normally as I could, nodding out
toward the street. "The cops are probably looking for you."

He grinned.  The feeling was electric.  For a minute I imagined he was
looking at my legs...the outline of my crotch through my dress pants.  He
was used to seeing me in jeans and gym shorts.  I don't think he'd ever
seen me dressed up before. It must have been my imagination.  He recovered
quickly.

"Nice room," he said, looking around, probably wondering what he could
steal.

"You want a Coke?" I offered.  I had a mini fridge in my room. I looked at
his neck.  I couldn't take my eyes off the tendons in his neck.  Snap out
of it, Brian.  I was NOT handling this well at all.

"Sure," he said.  "A Coke would be great. Thanks."

That was a new one.  "Thanks."  No, "thanks, ass face" or "thanks, butt
wad."  Without his crowd of admirers to impress, Casey was downright
normal. Almost polite.  Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all.  I
got him a Coke before he could change his mind and ax murder me.

I opened the fridge, which is on the floor, and bent down to get a couple
cans out.

"Shake it, Barrett," he said, giving my ass a quick pat from
behind. "That's a fine piece of candy you got there, baby doll."

I blushed.  Tingled almost everywhere.  "Shut up.  Just sit down and turn
on the Wii."

I handed him his drink.  I tried to ignore the electricity of his presence.
Not easy, because he kept looking me over with the strangest look in his
face.  Whatever I was feeling, I think he was feeling it too.

We turned on Mario Kart 8 and halfheartedly ran a few races. I beat him all
three times and he lost interest.

Still looking at me strangely, Casey wandered over to my bookshelf and
started looking around at anything but the game.

"You read too much," he said disgustedly. I looked at him, but turned away
quickly.  He did that thing with his tongue and lips again.  "Gonna read me
a story, Barrett?"

"Nothing wrong with books," I answered casually.  "That's why I have a
vocabulary and you have, you know, guttural grunts."

He turned and smiled at me, his eyes sparkling with good humor.

"You know, Barrett," he said mischievously, "you're pretty funny when
you're not at school being a kiss-ass."

"Whatever," I said dryly.  "You wanna play Wii or not?"

"I got some wee for you, he grinned. At least the cock it comes out of."

Again, he looked me over.  A long look this time.  I felt my neck growing
hot and sweaty and my face was turning red. He noticed it too.

He looked at me, right in the eyes.

"My dick itches," he said simply.

Oh God.  I almost died.

Trying not to take a deep breath out loud -- trying not to let the
slightest hint of reaction show in my voice, I kept my eyes firmly on his.

"So scratch it," I dared him.  "Monkeys know how.  I'm sure you can figure
it out."

I can't believe I said it.  But I could tell he liked it.  He cleared his
throat until I looked at him.

Slowly, he reached a hand down his pants and adjusted his dick.  He did it
very, very slowly, watching me the whole time.

"Ahhh..." he sighed.  "That's better."

His hand stayed down in his pants.

"So, Barrett," he casually.  "You got any clips?"

"Any what?" I asked him.

"Video clips, YouTube faves...jack-off material."

I swallowed hard.  The tension in the air was so thick, I could smell it.

"Are you serious?" I laughed nervously. "It's Thanksgiving."

It sounded stupid the minute I said it and he laughed.

"Yeah?" he grinned. "Wanna see a turkey?"

Dumbfounded, I nodded.

He unzipped his pants. Let them drop around his ankles. Tugged his red
boxer briefs down. Grabbed his soft cock by the shaft. Stretched it way up,
like a rubber chicken. Stretched it far, so I could only see his balls
underneath.

"Gobble, gobble," he grinned wickedly. "I'm a turkey neck."

"Gross," I said quietly, but in my mind I was panting. My heart was so
rapid-fire pounding I thought I would die.

"Gobble gobble," He said again quietly. "Touch it, Barrett."

There was just the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice...like he
really wasn't sure if he should have said that or not.  I didn't give him
any clue from my end.  Just sat there, staring at him blankly, trying not
to blush.

He dropped his hand. And oh God, his cock. It was beautiful. Three soft
inches. Getting hard. It was plumping up as I stared at it.

"C'mon," he nudged, reaching for my hand, I assume to put it on his
dick. Don't ask me why, but I pulled back. Stupid, because every atom in my
body wanted to touch that beautiful thing.

"You mean you don't even jack off?"  he asked, amazed.  "God, you really
are a baby, Barrett."

I shot him a look.

"Of course I jack off," I said angrily.  "I just don't usually do it with
other guys."

He put his hand back on his cock and started rubbing it. I could smell it
in the air now. A hot boy smell. Like body odor, only softer. Like
excitement, only scary. Like cock.

"Man, I'm horny," he said, completely ignoring my last comment.  "I could
jack off right now.  Sure you don't have anything I can look at?"

I stared at him, not believing he was standing here, stroking his own dick
under his pants.  My heart felt like it was about to explode out of my rib
cage.

"Knock it off," I said weakly...secretly hoping he wouldn't knock it off at
all.  I definitely wanted to see him do it.  I felt a flush go up the back
of my neck.  I tried to act like it was no big deal.  Like I wasn't
watching him.

"Oh yeah," he said in a low voice, continuing to rub himself.  "I'm half
tempted to make you do it for me, Barrett."

I didn't say a word.  Swallowed hard.  Felt my heart pound.

"Maybe you'd like that, huh, Brian baby?  Maybe I should take your hand and
put it on my big hot dick out make you jack it till I shoot my cum, huh?"

I blushed hotly.  I felt sick and nervous.  In my dress pants, my own dick
was starting to throb, growing uncomfortably larger and hard as a nail.  I
knew he noticed.

"Oh yeah," he continued to moan softly.  "I think you wanna do it
too. Wanna do it, Barrett?  Wanna take your cock out and play with each
other?"

I gulped.  Still didn't say anything.  I was afraid to tell him that, yes,
secretly, I really did want to do that.  I'd gone my whole life being the
object of Casey's teasing, so this was nothing new.  It was just a
different kind of teasing, that's all.  And I wanted to do it. I wanted to
do it bad.

Looking me right in the eye, he slowly unsnapped my dress pants, then
lowered the zipper down.  Pulling my pants and underwear out of the way
slightly, he brought out my cock. Both our cocks were hard now. Mine was
about four inches. His was about five. I was blushing hotly, starting to
sweat deeply from my forehead as he stared at it.

"That's more like it," he whispered hoarsely.  "Now stroke it for me,
Brian. Rub your hot little cock up and down.  Let me see you shoot your
sweet cum."

Hypnotized by the impossibility of the whole situation, I did what he told
me.  Reaching down for my cock, I started stroking my shaft, slowly up and
down, the whole time still watching him, looking at his own gorgeous
dick. I was mesmerized by it.  It was bigger than mine, and it was
absolutely the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen.

"You want me to suck it for you, don't you, Brian?  You want me to suck
that sweet little dick of yours?"

He spit on his hand and began stroking his dick in earnest, the tendons in
his arm standing out as he increased his grip on his own slippery cock.

I was too embarrassed to answer him.  I just sat there, continuing to
stroke my dick, closing my eyes, trying not to think of him looking at me.
God, I was hard.  I wanted to say something..give him
permission...anything...but I was just frozen in fear.

I had my eyes closed for maybe five, six seconds, when suddenly I heard him
drop to his knees and I felt his hot mouth close around the tip of my cock.

I gasped.  Jumped like an electric shock.

I looked down and there he was...his head bobbing up and down on my shaft,
licking my little mushroom tip, his tongue caressing the piss-slit, making
me moan involuntarily at what he was doing.

"Oh God, Casey," I whispered.  "Oh my God."

"Let's get on the bed, Brian," he whispered softly, between mouthfuls of
cock.  "Then you can suck mine too, okay?"

I was so hard, I'd do anything.  I would have done this since last
year. Since I saw him do that thing with my jock strap.  I'd jacked off a
hundred times imagining this moment.  And now it was happening.

We dropped to the bed and stretched out longways, head to toe.  Gone was
any idea of modesty.  He pulled my pants and undies further down to offer
himself a better view of my naked groin and legs.  I tugged at his pants
and underwear, further freeing his beautiful cock – five inches and rock
hard -- and from my position on the floor, my mouth an inch away from it –
looking monstrously big.  I didn't know if I could take it all.

"Suck it, Brian." he whispered, as my tongue darted out shyly, exploring
the thick pink knob.  "You know what to do.  Eat my big dick.  I know you
want to. Gobble gobble, Barettt. Gobble gobble."

His dirty words excited me even further.  I took his cock in my mouth and
coated it with spit.  It felt amazing.  It was rock hard and hot.  I loved
the way it felt, pulsing in my mouth, slipping down further into my
throat. I made gagging sounds until I got used to the length, the taste,
the feel.

"Do you boys want some carrot sticks?" my mom called from the foot of the
stairs. I was too far gone to answer.

"No thanks, Mrs. Barrett," Casey yelled down, momentarily taking his mouth
of my dick. "We're having a little snack right now!"

"Okay, boys. Dinner's in 30 minutes!"

And then, I couldn't stop.  I teased him with my tongue.  Cupped his balls
in my hand.  Enjoyed the smell of his sweaty pubic hair, brushing up
against my nose every time I went down on his thick, hot meat.  I ate his
dick with passion.  I gobbled him. I gobble-gobbled. Just like he wanted me
to. I could tell he loved it by the way he moaned.

I was close to cumming already.  So was he.  I knew neither one of us could
last much longer.  We'd been building up to this moment for too many years.

Grabbing the back of his ass and forcing his cock deep into my throat, I
moaned and grunted and pushed forward into his mouth with everything I had,
feeling my whole body shudder as I erupted deep within his throat, shooting
jet after jet of hot, sticky goo deep into his mouth.

"Ahhhhrggggh," he cried out, grabbing my head and doing the same.

I gagged as hot, thick ropes of liquid burst from his pulsating prick and
shot wildly into my aching mouth.  It was so good.  I wanted every drop. He
came SO much more than I did. SO much more.

"Oh, Brian," he shuddered.  "Swallow it for me, baby.  Swallow my
jizz. Gobble it up, Brian. Eat your dinner."

I had no objections.  I swallowed down as much as I could and I liked the
taste of it. I liked the taste! Thick and slimy and salty like gravy. But
throat-numbing. Like a Sucret with no flavor. It burned and soothed my
throat at the same time. I liked it. It tasted good. Some of his load
spilled out of my mouth, dripping down the corners and landing on the
bedspread.

"Oh yeah," he moaned.  "Oh yeah, Brian. Fucking excellent.  You're a good
boy, baby. You ate it all for me. Good boy."

We rolled back and looked at our handiwork.  Two matching cum drops on the
bedspread, just the goo of the end of our tips, because the rest of it was
definitely in our tummies. I don't know how much I shot in his mouth –
not as much as he shot in mine – but I have him something, and he didn't
let it go to waste. Oh God, it was good, that first time I sucked him. I
close my eyes and I can still remember what it tasted like that first time
his cum went down my eager, hungry throat.

But it's awkward after guys suck each other for the first time. You don't
know what to say. It's so hot, and it's so exciting, but it's over so fast,
and then your logical mind comes back and tells you, red alert, that was
fucking crazy, man. Embarrassed and hurried, we rolled off the bed on
opposite sides and pulled up our pants, trying not to look at each other.

It was Casey who broke the silence.

"That was cool," he said, rubbing his dick through his jeans.  "I've wanted
to do that with you since we were in fourth grade, Brian."

I looked surprised.  "Are you serious?" I asked.

"Oh fuck yeah," he whispered, turning red. "You had the cutest little ass
back then. You still do."

I blushed again.

"Thanks," I said.  "I've wanted to do this too."

"I know," he smiled.  "I could tell for a long time now."

"Why are you always such an asshole to me then?"

"Hey," he winked.  "You always hurt the one you love, Barrett.  Didn't your
parents ever teach you anything."

"They never taught me anything like this before," I grinned, nodding down
at the wrinkled bedspread and the tiny spots of cum goo on my bed.

"Well, maybe I'll have to teach you a few things then," he winked, headed
for the door.

"Hey! Wait!"

"Let's watch football," he said. "Maybe after dinner, I'll teach you about
stuffing."

I felt my face grow red. The area under my balls tingled and my face turned
red.

"Yeah," he grinned wickedly, watching me blush. "I think you're gonna like
it when I stuff you, Barrett. Save room."

And with that, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He winked
again and closed the door and he was gone.

I stood there, rubbing my dick through my pants. Wanting whatever just
happened not to end. Wanting him to come back. Wanting to do more with him
in a way I didn't even understand yet.

I reached around. Felt my own butthole. Moaned quietly imagining what he
might do to it.

And he was absolutely right about my after-dinner lesson. The rest of
Thanksgiving was going to be very, very filling.

# # # # # # # # # #

I don't know how much I eat for Thanksgiving in a typical year. Probably a
lot, but then again, I'm only 13, and, you know, two years ago I was still
sitting at the little kid's table with my cousin Simon, watching him piss
himself, so really, I haven't had too many Thanksgivings to work out the
math.

But there was no way I was going to eat a lot at this one. With the promise
of Casey's wiener looming over my butt, I wasn't quite sure how much food I
could put inside myself before it came shooting out the back end again, and
preferably not in the middle of me getting my butt fucked for the first
time.

"Brian, honey? Are you okay?" my mom asked, noticing I was barely touching
my meal, just moving it around and around on my plate.

"Oh, I'm fine," I told her. "Just not hungry, I guess."

"He had a big snack upstairs, Mrs. Barrett," Casey grinned from across the
table, holding onto a drumstick and looking right at me.

"Brad, I told you that refrigerator in his room was a terrible idea."

My dad shrugged at Mr. & Mrs. Renning, who smiled politely.

"You know better, Brian. No snacks before dinner. Especially a big meal
like this one."

"He couldn't help it I guess," Casey said, casually reaching for more
mashed potatoes. "He was really, really hungry, Mrs. B."

When my parents went on with their small talk, Casey secretly did
everything he could from across the table to keep me horny. And it worked.

My dad talked about work and Casey dipped his finger in the gravy on his
plate and slowly sucked it off, looking right in my eyes. Nobody noticed
but me.

My mom talked about some ladies club she belongs to, and Casey took a drink
of his milk and slowly licked his milk mustache off, which made my cock
about ten sizes harder right on the spot.

Mr. Renning talked about an upcoming trip to Detroit and Casey nudged my
foot under the table. Then my leg. Then lifted his sock covered foot to rub
my hard cock. I almost choked on my corn.

Mrs. Renning helped serve the pumpkin pie and when nobody was looking Casey
did a thing with the whipped cream I can't even write about because it
makes me blush so hard.

And then dinner was over. And I was about to get good and royally stuffed
and Casey and I both knew it.

"You boys want to come in the living room and watch the game with us?"

"Um, no, I said. "I think we'll go upstairs and play some more games."

"Brian's pretty good, Mrs. B," Casey smiled sweetly. "The one we played
before dinner, he was so good, he practically didn't even have to use his
hands!"

Casey grinned. I blushed, mortified. Nobody noticed. The best thing about
grown-ups is, they're usually lost in their grown-up world. Which is why
kids are fucking right under their noses half the time and they don't even
see it.

# # # # # # # # # #

Casey closed my bedroom door and he locked it. He stood looking at me.

He nodded down at his own hard cock and didn't say a word.

I dropped to my knees, unzipped his pants, pulled them down, pulled down
his underwear and watched it spring free. God, it was huge. I mean, not
really, but compared to mine, BIG. And oh God, the smell. It smelled so
good. I was just assaulted with hot sticky cock smell. I put my mouth on it
immediately. Sucked it immediately and Casey moaned and held onto my head.

"You are so fucking pretty, Brian. Look at you down there, man, sucking
that big dick. You like that don't you, Brian? You like sucking cock."

I could only go "mmmm" and nod. I didn't even want to stop long enough to
answer him. I just looked him in the eyes and said "mmmm" and nodded.

"I think you need to get stuffed now," Casey whispered hotly, and it was
almost a growl. "I think you need to pull your pants down and bend over the
bed while I give you some stuffing, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, doing what he said.

I wasn't even embarrassed now. I was just lost in heat for him. I unzipped
my pants, pulled them down. Kicked them off. Pulled my undies down. Kicked
them off too. Then went to the bed. Simply did what he asked. Bent
over. Assumed the position.

He whistled out loud.

"Holy fuck this is going to feel good," he muttered, looking at my
ass. Stepping forward. Kneading my butt cheeks, which made me whimper. I
reached around to stroke my own cock while he did it. God, I wanted this
bad.

"You ever been fucked before, Barrett?" he asked me simply.

"No," I moaned. "It's okay, though. Do it."

"I gotta go slow at first, or it's gonna hurt."

"Okay," I said. I wished he'd stop talking. I wished he'd start fucking.

I heard him spit on his fingers. He rubbed some on his cock. He rubbed some
on my hole, which really made me crazy.

"I fuck my little cousin all the time. He's 10. He takes it deep."

I moaned. I felt his wet finger start to enter my hole. I winced, but then
relaxed. He pulled it out. Put more spit on it. Pushed back in. Pushed and
twisted it forward.

"Oh God," I said. "Oh God that feels good."

"You gonna take it deep, Brian? You gonna take it deep when I fuck you?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I whispered.

I heard him spit and I felt it land right on my ass. It tickled as it
landed on my asshole and started to run down my leg. He lined his cock
up. He lined his big beautiful cockhead up to my ass and he pushed it
forward.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, how do I explain it? Do you remember what it was
like the first time a boy put his cock up your butt? The first time you
were hot and horny and dying to have his cock inside you and relaxed and
willing enough to let it happen? Oh my God. Oh fuck it felt good. It
hurt. It hurt so much, but it felt so good too. It was hard. And it was
long. WAY longer than I thought it would be. And it filled me so full, so
fast, I swear I could feel it in my throat. It hurt me in such a good way
it made me feel an actual lump in my throat.

"Oh yeah, Barrett, that's a good little pussyboy. You like that cock don't
you?"

"Yeah," I peeped. I felt like crying I liked it so much.

He slowly started to slide it in and out. Oh God, oh God, that was so
good. Oh yes, I wanted to shout at him. Fuck me like that. Fuck me slow
like that. So deep. Stick it in and out of me. Stick your fat cock up my
butt and fuck me in and out. My mind was spinning with incredible lust
babble. My thoughts were going two thousand miles a minute.

"Sweet fucking ass, Barrett," he whispered in my ear. "You smell that,
Barrett? That's your ass opening up for my cock. That's it baby, let it
in. Let me fuck your tight little ass with my big fat cock."

"Unnngh," I grunted with his thrust.

"Say it, Barrett. Say big fat cock."

"Big fat cock," I whispered.

"Say, fuck me with your big fat cock, Casey."

"Fuck me with your big, fat cock, Casey."

"Say, I like it when you fuck me."

"I like it when you fuck me."

"Say, fuck me harder, Casey."

"Fuck me harder, Casey."

"Say it louder, Barrett. Say, fuck me harder, Casey."

"Fuck me harder, Casey," I moaned. And I meant it.

And then he did fuck me harder.

Oh fuck.

He fucked me good and hard then.

There was no doubt he'd fucked boys before.

He went so far up my ass I thought I would go crazy from the pleasure. He
pushed against something inside me – something way up deep inside me
that made me see sparkles in my eyes. It felt like fireflies in my head. My
vision sparkled, he fucked me so hard.

And fuck, it was good. He picked up his pace and he fucked me in and out,
in and out. My bed started squeaking and I didn't even care. If anybody
downstairs heard us, I didn't even care. I just wanted this. Needed
this. Needed to get fucked by this big beautiful boy. This boy who had
picked on me since kindergarten. This boy who was nothing but trouble. But
now he was fucking me. Now he was filling me up to the impossible limit of
my mind and my soul and I didn't want him to ever, ever stop.

"Fucking tight," he growled. "Gonna cum in that hot, tight ass."

"Oh God," I trembled, jacking on my own stiff cock, knowing my own cum was
just moments away.

"You want that hot jizz up your butthole, Barrett?"

"Oh God, oh yes!"

"Is this where you want it?" he said, jutting it in hard and fast. I
grunted. I grabbed sheets.

"Eeeeee," I whined, and it was a high-pitched sound I didn't recognize as
my own voice.

"Gonna fill your ass up so full," he grunted. "Gonna stuff you full of
COCK! Gonna stuff you full of CUM! Gonna stuff your little fucking asshole
RIGHT...FUCKING...NOW!"

And on "NOW," BAM! He grabbed my hips and plunged his dick in me as far as
he could and grunted "UNNNNGGGH!!!" and just grabbed me, and twisted, and
plunged into me, and gyrated and held me tight and filled my ass with his
seed. Filled my spasming ass with his hot cock cum. Oh, fuck it felt
good. Fuck, it felt good to make him need me that way.

It made me feel powerful. It made me feel naughty.

It made me want to talk dirty.

"Oh yeah," I grunted. "Fuck it into me. Fuck that cum into me."

And he pushed and he held me tight, and I felt his cock twitch up and down
as he fucked the last of his cum into me.

"You cum yet?" he panted.

"No," I panted, still jacking my dick.

"Then cum for me," he grunted, reaching up and grabbing my hair. Pulling it
backward. Power fucking me. Fucking me hard while I jacked off. Fuck, that
was hot when he pulled my hair back like that.

"Fuck!" I shouted. "Fuck! Fuck!"

He banged his still hard cock in my ass so hard, so beautifully hard
whispering, "Cum for me, Brian, that's it, that's it, cum for me, cum for
me!"

AND AAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!! I shot all over the place. Shot all over my
bedspread. Shot all over my hand. Twitching and cumming and shaking and
gasping, and he was still fucking me. Still power fucking my ass.

"Stop," I grunted. "Stop, I'm done! I'm..."

I couldn't even talk anymore. I fell forward. Collapsed in my own cum
puddle.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling out of me with a juicy plop. Turning me
over roughly, and quickly lapping the cum of my cock, off my tummy, off my
bed, off everything.

"Fucking sweet cum," he growled as he licked and sucked, licked and sucked
everything clean.

Then he did something I never even imagined. Something I'd never even
conceived before. He pushed me roughly up on the bed, lifted by legs in the
air, right over his shoulders and dove into my ass with his whole face, his
whole mouth, his whole tongue.

"Oh fuck, you taste good Barrett."

"Oh! Oh!" I couldn't make any other noise but "Oh!" as he lifted my legs
and slurped his own cum out of my ass.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I mumbled, delirious as he ate me.

For five minutes he ate me. Ate me and fingered me and licked my balls and
licked my cock and tongued my ass and my God, I don't even know whatT he
was doing down there, but it felt so good I really did have tears running
out of my eyes. Whatever he was doing, I was crying for joy because he was
doing it to ME.

He stood up. Lifted my legs higher. Spit on his cock which was big and rock
hard again. And scooting me forward, lining me up with him, he stuck his
cock in me again. Stuck it in with one, great push. I almost died it felt
so good. And he fucked me again, fucked me slower this time. Fucked me
deeper this time, longer, harder deeper.

And it took so long this time. SO long. Not fast like the first time. Just
slow and deep and hard and relaxed, like he had all the time in the world
to fuck me deep and stuff me good.

He noticed the tears on my cheeks. Looked shocked.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice. Genuine concern for
the first time from Casey Renning, a miracle in itself.

"No," I shook my head. "Hurts good."

I threw my arms around his neck. Pulled him down to me. "Hurts good."

And I kissed him. I pulled his face into mine and I leaned up and he leaned
down and I kissed him. And as soon as I kissed him "UNNNNNNGHHHHHH!" he
grunted, cumming in me again. Cumming in me again as we kissed and I shook
and my own cock rubbed tingly between our tummies. Filled me with his cum
again as he kissed me and we tasted tongues. Like cranberries. Like boyhood
and pumpkin pie.

He rolled off me.

"You need to cum again?" he panted.

"No, but just..."

"Just what?"

I rolled to my side. Backed up into him. Grabbed around behind me and
grabbed his still-hard cock and lined it up with my ass again.

"I don't have to cum," I said. "But just leave it in me awhile. Just leave
it in me and lay here with me."

He did. His cock slid back in and he wrapped his arms around me and we just
lay there in my bed spooning. Being in that moment. Understanding this deep
new feeling. The new and the now of it. Incredible. Like the beginning of
who I always would be from that moment on.

We fell asleep.

Maybe, I don't know.

I woke and the clock on my dresser said twenty minutes later. And God, he
was fucking me again. Impossible. Hard. I felt his cock sliding in and out
of me slowly, waking me up. Fucking me again. Filling me again. Stuffing
me. Cumming in me until I could feel it running out of my ass and down my
leg.

God, it was so good that winter.

That first Thanksgiving that Casey Renning fucked me. It started as a
joke. "Gobble gobble, Barrett." But it turned into this. Deep, and lasting,
and all winter long. I'll never forget that first night.

Casey stayed over. His parents went home, but Casey stayed.

"It's a long weekend, Judy," she said to his mom as we came slinking down
the stairs a couple hours later. Limping really, on my part. Limping in a
good way. "Let Casey stay. The boys can have a slumber party."

Casey smiled. I smiled. It was a party up in my room that night, but there
was very little slumber.

We walked up the stairs.

His dad smiled at my dad.

"They seem to be getting along a little better today, Brad."

"Knock on wood," said my own dad, fixing the grown-ups another drink.

"Must be the holidays," my mom said to his mom.

"Filled with the holiday spirit," said his mom and I heard them all laugh.

"Filled with something," I whispered to Casey as we went back inside me
room.

"I think I've got some leftovers for you, Barrett," he grinned. "Want
seconds?"

I smiled at him. I closed the door and locked it. I wrapped my arms around
his neck and he kissed me.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Barrett," he smiled.

"Happy Thanksgiving, asshole," I replied, squeezing his cock, which was
unbelievably hard again. "Gobble gobble. "

"Get your pants off and get into that bed," he said with a husky
voice. "Thanksgiving's not over until I say it is."

It was one of those Thanksgivings where I ate so much, I thought I was
going to burst.

Can't wait to see what he's giving me for Christmas.

# # # # # # # # # #

Love,
Zachyboy
z.blake@mail.com