Don’t get me wrong – I love women. I’ve been fucking them for most of my life, and I haven’t gotten any complaints. I mean, I have no reason not to like them. What guy wouldn’t like a girl’s lips wrapped around his cock, slurping like some rabid, toothless animal? Or what about when they straddle you with their curvy hips and ride you like they just got back from a dirty rodeo show down in Texas? It feels so good. So there’s no rational reason on Earth that I should not enjoy banging pure female pussy.

Except that I can’t stand them.

It’s nothing personal, ladies. It’s just a few ticks of mine.

Like the screaming. Believe me, I have no problem being vocal during sex. I can dirty-mouth any tight girl enough to make her as horny as a guy wanking along to Jessica Simpson’s latest commercial. But halfway through the good part...they start making these noises. Each woman sounds different in the beginning – some have a more melodic hum while some just bleat like goats – but eventually, they all start squirming and groaning like a drunken cat in heat. That I can tolerate up to a point. But soon comes the oh-fuck-oh-god-yes-yes-I’m-gonna-come-climax, and suddenly those forty dollar manicures are drawing my blood, and my apartment fills with screams like I’m murdering her instead of pleasing her. My eardrums beg me to reach up and strangle her before I go limp and deaf.

And then there’s the jiggling. There’s no straight guy out there who wouldn’t dream of suckling a double D cup hottie and watching her tits roll with every thrust of his cock inside of her. But after long enough with any woman, I feel like I’m fucking a piece of jello. Wiggle, bounce, bounce, bounce...after a while, you start noticing that some parts that shouldn’t be jiggling are jiggling, and she’s suddenly a hell of a lot flabbier than she looked in the dim light of the subway.

There are other things – like the fact that no man could possibly master the art of pleasuring a woman, even if he read every advice book and took every kama sutra class in the world – but up until a couple of weeks ago, I thought I didn’t have a choice. I took every fuck as a necessity, sweating and groaning and thrusting until I came, and then politely zipping up my pants and moving on. I could satisfy my occasional cravings with a blowjob here and a fuck there, and that was that. But there was something missing. Something I couldn’t quite place.

I should introduce myself before I go on. My name is Lance Callahan, and I live in New York City in an apartment I (grudgingly) share with my crack-snorting older brother, Seth. I’m seventeen years old and I work two shitty jobs to pay the bills that my dumbass brother always somehow rakes up. My mother’s dead, and I never knew my father – and I’m damn well glad I didn’t because I’d have to slit the son-of-a-bitch’s throat if I did. Seth and I live under the same roof for convenience’s sake alone, and as long as each pays his own share and stays out of the other’s way, it works. That means I basically live on my own and do whatever the hell I want with myself.

Appearance-wise, I don’t think I’m too daunting. I have dirty-blonde hair, but a few months ago I took a liking to bleaching it and dying it dark blue. It always falls in jagged streaks along my forehead, and I like the effect. I got my left eyebrow pierced a while ago, and I sometimes wear a ring on by bottom lip, but both are only a barely noticeable glint of silver. Half the reason I did it was to piss Seth off, anyway – and it worked, so there’s no way I’m getting rid of either of them. I have light brown eyes and relatively pale skin. I’m not perfect, and I do have a few little white scars, but you have to look for them to see them. I dress in whatever the local shoplifter is selling that week, but I’ve always been attracted to darker colors – they look better on me, anyway. I don’t paint my nails or wear makeup or any of that shit. I don’t have the money, I don’t have the patience, and above all, I abhor the idea.

As I was saying, though, there was something distinctly missing in my life. It haunted me at night, especially after sex. The raw afterglow seeped away at something inside of me more and more each time I fucked someone, and I ended up walked away feeling emptier than before. It was like I was constantly trying to fill a bottomless cup. I tried to brush it off as my imagination – after all, there was no rationality behind this odd twinge of hunger – but something in me wouldn’t let go.

Ultimately, it took one of my brother’s friends to give me the missing piece.

His name was Lucas, but we always called him Luke. He was one of Seth’s pot-buddies, meaning that he was one of over a dozen kids who showed up every Thursday night to chain-smoke in Seth’s bedroom. He had deep black hair that fell down in straight cascades down the sides of his face, and a calculated smile that made you think he was about to say something taunting and sarcastic. His eyes were a shocking shade of electric green, and they always seemed to be deep and shifting, like he was looking right into every person in the room and reading their most intimate thoughts. He had pierced tongue and a rolling laugh, and a slender body and fingers that reminded you of a musician. He always wore black and only black, and tight clothing that looked like it might rip if he stretched his arms or legs any further. A peculiar scent of spicy smoke seemed to follow him wherever he went, and he always moved as smoothly as a dancer, whether it was on the nightclub floor or just tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.

He also happened to be the most flamingly open homosexual you could ever come across.

I had absolutely no problem with him before I started going to the strips and dance clubs with my brother’s buddies. He was just another kid in the pack, and I really didn’t give a damn about him or what he did. But then he started eyeing me, and that’s when I got uncomfortable. I still had that one-track pussy-bound mind, so when he threw his gaze down my body amid the flashes of the synthetic lights, I frowned and ignored every fiber of his being. Any time he tried to talk to me, I bluntly excused myself and walked off to the nearest retreat, be it a bathroom or a back alley.

Then, he started trying to touch me. It first started when he was walking out the apartment door one Thursday night, and he gave my ass a little pinch when he stepped by. He turned and laughed at my startled expression, and I was so angry that I told him to go fuck himself and literally shoved him out by the wood of the door. Later on, whenever he showed up at a club with the others, he’d always find some opportunity to casually brush his hand against me. It could be anything from accidentally brushing by thigh while lifting his hand for his drink or pressing his arm against my back as he tried to squeeze behind me in the crowd.

It got to a point where once, amid the throbbing of the base and the sweat of the people crowded around me, I suddenly felt his breath hot in my ear and his hips roughly grinding my ass. I had whipped around, flushed and speechless, just about ready to punch him in the face. But before I could spit any of my welling venom at him, he laughed and walked away without saying a word.

The thing was, I wasn’t scared of him because I was repulsed by his advances.

I was scared of him because it was turning me on.

Needless to say, after that night, I avoided all possible contact with him. I stayed out on Thursday nights and stopped going to those clubs. If I accidentally went to the same convenience store at the same time he did, I left immediately. If I saw him standing on the sidewalk near our apartment, I ducked my head and took a roundabout route. I did anything and everything to stay out of his sight.

Meanwhile, my sexual need seemed to take a sharp upturn for no reason, and I found myself becoming less and less picky with the girls I fucked. I didn’t care if they screamed bloody murder and tore my skin apart with their French manicures. I just needed a release, and I needed it badly, because I was thinking too much about him and it horrified me. He’s just a creep, I told myself. Just a creep, and I’m going through an odd phase that’ll correct itself as soon as I shoot him in his dirty little face.

I was very successful in avoiding him – so successful, in fact, that I didn’t catch a glimpse of him for an entire five weeks.

And then, it all happened.

I remember it was a Sunday night, because the fuzzy, cheap television screen kept showing reruns of an earlier football game. I collapsed on the couch after a day of shoving sloppy hamburgers under people’s noses at my restaurant job, and then at my pharmacy job selling old ladies their monthly urinary tract infection meds and a copy of People’s magazine. I was tired and I wanted to fall asleep, but more than that, I felt strangely horny.

I flipped through the channels vaguely, watching the colors change but not taking interest in anything. Not even Telemundo could amuse me in my oppressive need. I was about to reach down into my pants when I heard the sound of grunting in the room next door, and I realized with sharp frustration that my brother was getting off with some chick. That meant masturbation was out of the question, because I was not going to get caught jacking off by Seth and whatever slut he had tonight. I groaned aloud, contemplating getting up and going to my room for some privacy, though I didn’t have the energy to do it.

Then, I heard the door click and creak open and shut. I figured it was one of Seth’s closer friends, because they had a key so they could get their share of crack whenever they wanted. I didn’t even bother to lift my head off of the lumpy couch to see who it was. "You can’t get in right now," I called motionlessly, watching some Spanish girl giving her boyfriend a bitch slap on the screen. "He’s fucking. Come back later."

"Damn," the voice replied, "And I’m craving like fuckin’ hell."

I froze. My whole body tensed all at once. I jerked up to a sitting position and whipped my head back in time to see him tucking his keys into his pocket, regarding me with that calculating smile of his. Luke was wearing his usual black jeans and tight shirt, but something about the slender outfit that made him seem taller and more inviting than usual. His dark hair hung about his face and wisped along his cheeks, and it only served to brighten his eyes and soften the skin around them.

My throat instantly went dry and I narrowed my eyes dangerously at him, as though daring him to take a step closer. He only seemed amused at that, grinning catishly and glancing toward the kitchen. "You think he’ll be done soon?" he asked aloud, though already walking into the kitchen to help himself to a can of beer. His voice was soon muffled by the wall. "I’ll wait it out. Fuckin’ cravings."

I glared venomously at the whitewashed wall that separated us, my mind buzzing. Bastard. Bastard shouldn’t be here. I seriously considered getting up and leaving at that very moment. But my pride got the best of me. I refused to leave my home just because some son of a bitch thought he could walk in and own the place. I turned and resumed watching the soap opera, only this time my eyes were narrowed and hard, and I really wasn’t paying attention to the plotline. I was fuming and plotting what I would say to him and how I would mess up his face when he emerged from the kitchen.

Then, I felt his crossed arms leaning on the cushion behind my head, and his leaning face was level with mine. His breath was warm and already tainted with Budweiser. "Anything good on, kid?"

He loved calling me "kid," even though I was only two years younger than him. I stared harder at the television screen, my jaw beginning to lock.

"Fuck off."

"That’s interesting."

I could practically feel him smiling, and to my relief, he shifted away. That relief was short-lived, however, when I felt him plop himself next to myself, the beer can sloshing gently in his grasp as he took another long draught. I was tenser than ever, knowing that he was much less than arm’s length away from me. I wanted to turn and give him a good punch like I could to my brother during one of our more heated fights. But I didn’t. And I was silently horrified because I didn’t. Instead, I kept watching the screen, the silence absorbing the air around us. Soon, it was just the din of the television, the slut’s grunting next door, the sound of his breathing, and the pounding of the blood in my ears.

Slowly, to my absolute dismay, the incessant horniness that had consumed my thoughts before his arrival took hold again. The fact that I could hear my brother fucking in the room next door wasn’t helping. I didn’t dare even look down to see if I was showing. I was too paralyzed by Luke’s presence to reach down and touch my hardening cock, even if I wanted to – which I desperately did, at this point. Instead, about a full minute after the throbbing begged for my touch, I shifted a little in my seat to alleviate some of the ache.

It was the wrong move. Lucas had been watching me the whole time, and he let out a laugh muffled by his closed lips. "You’re such a horny bastard," he chided.

I turned my head sharply and opened my mouth to snap at him when my words were swallowed by something tender and hot. That same moment, my jean-clad cock was enveloped by his warm and pressing fingers. I let out a sound of surprise that only drowned in his mouth as he started kissing and rubbing me.

My nerves were roused and I let in a sharp breath through my nose, jerking my head away and grabbing his wrist. "Get the fuck off me, faggot," I hissed between my teeth.

But that was when I looked at his face, a threat died on my lips. On his lips and in his green eyes, he was smiling. Smiling like he knew. "Shut up, kid," he told me simply. Before I knew it, his mouth was digging into mine again, and his hand resumed its work on my aching crotch.

This time, I didn’t try to stop him. His lips were thinner than any woman I’d ever kissed, but they were raw with talent, suckling and digging at my mouth until I could barely breathe. His pierced tongue was hot and teasing, rolling along my hesitantly parted mouth. When he flicked my bottom lip, I felt the click of the cold metal of our piercings, and it made me shudder. That in itself was sexier than anything I’d ever done with any girl in my entire life. His palm rubbed mercilessly against my now throbbing cock, and I squirmed under his hand. His tongue finally got past my lips and delved into my mouth, playfully seeking my own tongue. I could taste the beer on his breath, and it turned me on even more. I finally did offer my tongue to him, and he rewarded me with wet and slow licks. His fingers rubbed first up and down, and then in slow circles on the stiff fabric of my jeans. I could feel my skin heating all over at his touch.

His mouth broke off with an inward gasp, and he murmured something about wanting me. His tongue trailed down my jaw and neck, leaving me to try to catch my breath again. His free hand circled my wrist, and he eased me backward to lie down on the couch. My legs were still splayed apart, one dangling off of the couch. He straddled my hip and pressed his own leg against the apex of my thighs, but when he lowered himself down and pressed his heated and firm weight against me, I forgot myself and let out a moan. His chest was warm and firm against mine, and my hands reached up and felt the masculine flesh through the skin-tight shirt. Nothing could’ve been hotter than when I felt two stiff nubs through the fabric.

Encouraged by my response, Luke had taken to suckling my neck and rubbing by own chest. I don’t know why, but I’m very sensitive around my neck. So when he flicked his warm tongue against the nape of my neck and drew wet patterns with the tip, I groaned aloud. The sensation of his soft thigh against my jeans was driving me crazy, and in thoughtless lust, my hips jerked up to hump that firm flesh. He grinned suddenly and nipped at my skin with his firm teeth, nearly making me jump. "Fuck, yeah. You want it bad, don’t you, Lance?"

This had never happened to me before. I’d never lost control during sex. I was never the one to moan and squirm helplessly, nor was I the one to receive the dirty talk instead of dish it out. But when his talented hands wove down my front, I couldn’t find a single fiber in my body that wanted to object. His fingers massaged my chest and abs before finally dipping beneath my shirt, sliding up my heated body. Even his touch was mind-blowing. His fingertips could trace every bump and line as though from memorization, and his thumbs rolled in slow circles over my now hardened nipples. My shirt felt tighter and more uncomfortable by the moment. As though reading my mind, he relieved me of my choked discomfort by quickly pulling the fabric over my head. In one swift motion of his arm, his own shirt seemed to simply fall off his skin and land beside the couch near mine.

I barely had a moment to look down at his bared torso before his lips smashed against mine and forced my head into the cushions. Our chests brushed and heaved in sensual rhythm, but what really turned me on was the way he reached down, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them firmly above my head. I felt exposed and naked already, and I loved the rough treatment. By this point, my inhibitions were eroding away quickly. I was kissing him back and moaning against his tongue, my back arching to make our skin connect, my hips squirming to rub my achingly hard cock against him. I could feel his own hard-on through his denim, and I could tell by the sounds he was making that he was enjoying this, too. He started moving his hips in time with mine, and by the time we found a rhythm, we were grunting into each other’s mouths and thrusting hard. It felt so fucking good.

I suddenly broke off our heated kiss out of oxygen deprivation, but he took it as a sign to take it a step further. Long forgotten was the distant Spanish babbling of the television screen or the muffled sounds of sex in the other room. All I could sense was his mouth weaving kisses down my arm and across my shoulder. His fingers still clasped firmly around my wrists. He licked each nipple with the flat of his tongue, but when the cold piercing rippled against my sensitized nub, I could not suppress a shudder. He moved my wrists down so he could move further southward, suckling slowly at each inch of flesh. I watched him until he got to my navel, when I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned my head back against the couch. I felt his tongue swirling around my belly button, pressing light and wet kisses as he moved slowly downward. So painfully slow, and yet so deliciously slow...

He finally let go of my wrists so that he could undo my jeans. With astonishing deftness, he popped open the button and dragged down the zipper, and then took hold of the fabric of each leg and tugged. It felt so good to have my skin exposed to the cool air, but before I could savor the sensation for long, he made sure to harness my attention again. His palms smoothed up my thighs and to my boxer-clad crotch. One hand slid underneath my balls and began to explore and grope me. I was overcome by the pleasure of being touched by someone whose fingers always seemed to hit just the right spot. He licked further up and up along my thighs, his hand still rubbing my balls. He looked up at me with a teasing, sexy grin, before lowering his face and nuzzling my cock, kissing warmly through the fabric. My breath became uneven and one of my hands grabbed his thick hair, squirming my hips in his face in anticipation. He took the hint.

With one last nuzzling, he pulled back his face and toyed with the waistband of my boxers. I thought he was going to go torturously slow again, and I was afraid I might come before he even laid a finger on my throbbing cock – but he surprised me. Without warning, he ripped down the last barrier and enveloped my hard cock in his hot mouth. My free hand shot into his hair as I moaned sharply. His tongue circled the head and licked downward, and his fingers caressed my naked balls. His thin lips moved up and down on my cock, humming and flicking at the head, massaging further and further behind my balls. I could barely breathe as I watched him, his pale lips stretched over my own throbbing member and rotating it expertly in his talented mouth. I closed my eyes again and clutched his hair, moaning my encouragement. His tongue flattened and I felt the pierced ball run its cold course along my shaft. I shuddered as his mouth moved on me at greater speed, hissing at the pleasure that coursed through my body. "Oh– " I groaned between my teeth and thrust up into his mouth, "Fuck, yeah."

I felt his hot mouth pull off of my cock with a sensual noise, kissing his way down my shaft. His lips first gently touched and kissed my balls, and then his mouth slowly opened to lick and suck them into his mouth, one at a time. One of his hands groped for my cock and grasped the shaft, firmly jerking up and down. I moaned softly at that, laying my head back down. My hips squirmed as he kept licking and sucking and jerking. God, he knew exactly where to put his mouth and hands. It was then that I felt one of his hands slip under my ass and squeeze one of my cheeks. It put me on the edge as he groped my ass, feeling his palm roll over the mounds and crack. I barely even noticed as he bent one of my legs backward. That was, I didn’t notice, until I felt his fingers part my ass and his wet tongue flicked my virgin asshole.

I let in a sharp breath and started, my upper body jerking up. "No! Stop–"

He pulled up his face and gave me a calm look with his bright green eyes, though I was flustered and offended and trying to catch my breath. The hand that was on my cock reached and pressed against my stomach. "You’ll like it. I promise," he told me.

I stared at him uncertainly, but in the end, he won. I slowly laid back down, and he stroked my hip once with his eyes focused on mine. He then returned to what he had been doing, and I sucked in a breath and stared at the ceiling above me. I tried to relax and focus on his fingers jerking my cock, and the throbbing pleasure that came with it. Soon, his mouth kissed back to where it had been. His fingers parted me again, and his wet tongue licked around the ring of my asshole. I breathed in slowly, closing my eyes and rolling my head to the side. No one had ever touched me there. That was unmarked, unclaimed, and untouched territory. He kept placing slow licks with the flat of his tongue. It felt dirty, wrong...and that was exactly why it was starting to feel so good.

All at once, I flushed and jumped when his cold piercing touched my asshole, letting out a sharp moan. I could feel him smile as he released my cock and used both hands to widen the crack. This time, the tip of his wet tongue touched by asshole, and then slid in. I instantly tensed and sucked in a breath as his tongue pressed inward. It went deeper and deeper and I began to feel discomfort turn to a slight tinge of pain. But then, it pulled out. A second later, it darted back in. Then out. Then in. I glanced downward to see his tongue darting in and out of my ass. I shivered and closed my eyes, feeling the wet little snake fuck me a little quicker each time. God, it felt good!

I felt him stop suddenly with a grin, teasingly laying open kisses around the opening rose bud. "You like that, Lance? You like my tongue fucking your tight asshole?"

I let out a hot breath in response, weaving my hand deeper into his hair and pressing his face closer to me. "Yeah," I breathed, desperate to feel it again. He laughed softly and obliged, sticking his tongue back into me. I exhaled in lust, my ass squirming to get him in deeper. He began licking and sucking, and I spread my legs further to feel him deeper. I was starting to let out small sounds and wriggle my ass against his mouth.

All at once, his mouth pulled away from my ass. Just as disappointment stung me, I felt one of his fingers peek into my asshole, and his talented lips were wrapped around my cock again. His finger pressed deeper than his tongue did, and I let out a sudden sound at the pain. He hummed against my cock as if to relieve me of the pain, and the lapping of pleasure did help douse some of the discomfort as my ass stretched to accommodate his finger. In another minute, his finger was buried up to the knuckle in my asshole, and he was starting to pump it in and out. At first, it just felt weird, but then it started to tingle softly with pleasure. That pleasure heightened as time passed, and he pumped his finger faster. Soon, it felt so fucking good that I was thrusting my cock into his mouth and my ass against his finger.

The rustle of fabric met my ears, and before I knew it, something hard and fleshy was dangling in my face. I looked up to see that he had slipped into a sixty-nine position, his finger still pumping my ass and his mouth still on my cock. Drunken with pleasure, I leaned up and hesitantly flicked my tongue for my first taste of another man’s cock. It was hard and surprisingly salty with pre-come. He let out a sound of encouragement, and my hands slid to cup his balls, groping and feeling him out. I leaned up further and took the head of his cock with my lips, flicking it with my tongue. He made a sharp sound against my cock and instinctively thrust deep into my mouth. I almost gagged, but then recovered and adjusted my head to a more comfortable position. I sucked his cock like he was sucking mine, and soon we were both thrusting and moaning and gagging.

It wasn’t long before my breaths quickened and I felt a climax coming on. I felt Luke doing the same as his abs began to clench with sharp gasps for air. It was then that he shoved another finger deep inside of me and started fucking my ass harder. I let out a loud sound and shivered, feeling him slurping and sucking and fucking, and I grabbed his ass as the pleasure mounted. I kept sucking him with everything I could, and I felt sweat forming on my chest as I groaned and thrust and squirmed. He took his mouth off of my cock with a sharp gasp, jerking me and shoving his fingers deep in and out of my ass. "Yeah, Lance. You feel my fingers in your ass?" His fingers sped up and fucked me harder. "Fuck, yeah. Come for me."

My hips bucked and the pleasure raked my quivering body. I let out a cry and a shudder as strings of my hot come beaded his hot, slurping mouth. I thrust and thrust until I was paralyzed in my orgasm. It was the most earth-shattering climax I’d ever experienced – I swear the ground must’ve moved. My body collapsed, but then I felt him thrust hard in my mouth. With one final, rough groan, his hot syrup splurted into my mouth. It had a sharp, tangy sort of taste. I wasn’t ready for it and it choked me, but as I gagged and tried to swallow, it just kept coming. I finally had to pull my mouth away with a hard swallow and a loud cough, gasping for air.

I felt him panting softly against my thigh, and all at once, I could hear the murmuring of the television again. He laughed again and kissed my skin. "You’ll learn to swallow, kid. It’s alright."

I let out a long breath and reached up to wipe the remaining come off of my face. It tasted sticky and salty, but I could live with it. I felt him pull off of me, but a moment later, he was lying back down on top of me and licking his own come off of my face. I breathed out and touched his chest gently as he moved his lips to mine, but this kiss was much gentler and warmer than any other we’d shared. He touched my hair and broke the kiss, looking at me straight in the eye. He smiled out of nowhere, flicking my pierced lip with his tongue. "Your eyes look like honey."

I blinked up at him, naked and flustered, and absolutely speechless at those words. That was the last thing I had expected from him.

He stared back at me with an expression I could not discern, even though I was looking straight into his gleaming eyes. But then he chuckled like he normally would, shaking his head gently so that strands of his black hair trickled against my cheeks. "Did I ever tell you what a tight ass you have? Fuckin’ hot."