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Nifty - Gay - Celebrity - New Direction For One Direction - New Direction For One Direction 5

Date: Wed, 22 Dec 2010 22:17:11 +0000
From: Some Chap <>
Subject: New Direction for One Direction Part 5

This story deals with (highly) adult themes, and is really not at all
appropriate for children. Copyright me.

The intimate details revealed in this story is not to be construed as an
admission on my part that I'm really quite good friends with the boys of
One Direction. I do not know them, and this is complete fiction. As far as
I know.

This should go without saying, but incase it does need to be said: I have
absolutely no idea how hypnotism works, and I use it in this story as a
plot device, which I mold to suit my own individual tastes and desires for
the story, nothing more.

The product of my somewhat fanciful mind, this story follows the exploits
of a man who is, quite simply, mad. As a result, aspiring to follow in his
footsteps should itself be considered a sign of mental instability.


As the song goes, 'this is the end, my only friend, the end'. Not the
absolute end, of course; I hope to write some stories in the future, time
permitting, but this will be the last time I write about One
Direction. Don't let the open ending fool you. :-P

I should begin by saying that, one of the fetish 'requests' I had for this
chapter, I completely forgot to intergrate into the story. This annoys me
greatly, because the request was tricky to adapt realistically, and the
central device through which Liam is ensnared, I basically developed solely
with that request in mind. I will try to do something featuring it at a
later date, however.

After having done or gone through something new for the first time, it is
my habit to ask, 'what have I learned from this?' And what I have learned
from THIS, is that its actually a great deal of fun to write erotic
fiction. And whilst its weird to write 'a sex scene', once you've done the
first one, the rest come easy. That being said - the one downside I, at
least, have when it comes to writing is that I cannot bear to read, let
alone jerk off too, anything I've written. By the time I submit it to
nifty, I'm far too sick and tired of it to ever want to read it again. ;-)

The other surprising thing is how much, in pure 'wordcount' terms, you can
find yourself writing about sex. This chapter alone is nearly 11,000 words;
only 2000 words off the length of my undergraduate dissertation, which I
had six months to write. The whole thing? 37,500 words, written in little
over eight weeks. By way of comparison, this is just over half the length
of my thesis, which I had four YEARS to complete. Where does all this crap
come from?!? It's actually a little bit scary. But, in short: I recommend
anyone and everyone to give it a go. Especially if you're one of those
people who always says, 'but I haven't ever found a story which has
everything *I* want to see in it.'

As always, those wishing to do so can contact me by email; I respond to
anything I receive, or at least, I have managed to do so thus far, and
don't intend to stop now :)

And with that, I bid you adieu.


The final part of my first story, submitted after over a decade of
dutifully reading the nifty archieves, I would be most grateful for any
comments to be sent to: But please, unlike the
mad doctor, don't be too harsh :)

It is not necessary to read the first, second third OR fourth parts prior
to this part, but if you enjoy this, you will probably enjoy the others.

(Gay, celeb, auth, mc, adult/youth)

Chapter the Fifth: Liam Payne: The Hunky One

The powers that be learnt that I was in the vicinity when the lads were
late out on stage for the show on the 13th November, and consequently had
come to the conclusion that I was a bad influence on them, and my pass was
revoked as a result. I was also not to see them for professional
reasons. In theory.

In theory. What the show's producers didn't know, was that I had corrupted
or co-opted all of the boys, save one. This led to the realisation of two
facts. Firstly, I was too far gone to simply give up now, with just one of
the boy's charms remaining to be discovered, and secondly, it now didn't
matter what the show's producers wanted or demanded; I had a route to all
the boys through four of them.

Utilising my contacts to get access to hunky Liam would prove difficult,
however. I had to spend a good week thinking about it; they were holed up
in that big house, and I couldn't exactly knock on the door now that I was
persona non grata. I did hit upon an idea, however - which took a few days
to perfect and create. To put my plan into action, I called up Harry, and
instructed him to meet me at a local supermarket, knowing that whilst he
would be driven out of the house, he would be free to go to the shops on
his own.

Thursday November 18th 2010

Needless to say, I was waiting for him - in the vegetable section, which I
felt he'd know the location of, given his recent sexploits. I had a basket
with me (might as well get some sundries), and observed the door, seeing
him walk through the automatic doors dressed in a loose pair of silver
tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a hoodie with the hood up, no doubt trying
to obscure his now well-known face. He looked typically fresh-faced and
wide-eyed. Glancing around to find me, he saw me down one of the aisles
ostensibly admiring cauliflowers, and approached. We exchanged
pleasantries, acting like we were good friends - an uncle and nephew,
perhaps, with him looking round furtively every thirty seconds or so to see
if anyone had recognised him. As we chatted, I alternated my gaze between
his impish face, and his packed groin; he noticed, but didn't complain. He
knew I'd be interested in that region, as I'd specifically asked him to
come out without any underpants, and I was delighted to see the hump of his
semi-erect length running just to the left of the centre seam of his
trackies. His horned up state reminded me of the fact that I'd told him not
to wank, and wondered how well he'd kept up the 'regimen'. It then struck
me of course, that even though he's an attractive, nicely built sixteen
year old straight boy, I didn't need to wonder; I could just ask
him. "How's the wanking going?"

He returned his gaze to meet mine. "I ain't been doing it, if that's what
you mean."

"I see."



"But, I've been cumming in my sleep. And there's nothing I can do about
that! It's not my fault."

I smiled, realising how much of a bitch he'd become. "No, I suppose
not. That can't win you any friends at the house, though."

"Nah, the jizz stinks out the place. The cleaners - all old women, standard
- run a lottery on who gets to change my sheets each morning. Horny old
cows," he said with a cocky grin.

"Old women, eh? Not really your type, then?"

"Nope. I prefer 'em younger. They're like, forty, or fifty - as old as

I nodded at his seemingly unintentional insult. "Hmm. I see. Well, how
long's it been since your last cum, then?"

He furrowed his brow in contemplation. ", four days."

Just at that moment, the two of us were distracted by a group of giggling
girls pointing in our direction. I assumed their interest was in Harry
rather than myself, and this was proven to be the case when he raised his
hand in a wave and smiled at them, causing them to practically scream and
faint before running off. I enjoyed the spectacle, looking down and seeing
Harry's unruly cock flex with need through his trousers, producing a small,
barely noticeable damp patch near the fat head. "Must be hard," I said, my
gaze fixed.

"What do you mean, exactly?" He asked, knowingly.

"Oh, just being so horny and having girls come on to you all the time..." I
nodded down to his groin, smiling as I did so, "just...must be hard."

He laughed, looking down in embarrassment, before he looked again at me,
his face hardened in scowl. "What do you want?"

"Oh, just the usual," I replied, still grinning. Putting a basket down on a
large pallet of Diet Cola, I pulled him by his hoodie down a small hallway
- he stumbled initially, but didn't make a scene as he came with me into
the gents toilet at the end of the hallway. I pushed him against a wall,
and ran my left hand up under his hoodie, along his smooth flanks and up to
his pointy little titties, pinching first one and then the other until I
felt them begin to harden. I thrust my other hand down his trackies,
jiggling his sweaty balls in the palm of my hand. He looked at me the whole
time, fairly impassively; he tried to maintain his composure, but his horn
made him perspire, and breath heavier than usual. I began stroking him, the
insides of his trackies becoming sticky with thick, clear juice. I think we
were both turned on by the fact anyone could walk in at any moment, and I
was about to push him to his knees when the door opened and, at that
moment, someone did indeed walk in. Thankfully, there was a small alcove
from the door to the urinals, giving me the second I needed to extract my
hands and begin walking to the sink. Harry stayed where he was, in shock, I
think, but the guy who walked in at least seemed unfazed by the thick teen
cock jutting out of his tracksuit pants almost at a painful-looking ninety
degree angle. I motioned for Harry to follow me out of the toilets; as fun
as it was, I was far too terrified to carry on where we left off in one of
the cubicles, and besides, I got a certain sick pleasure from wanking an
already randy teen, but without taking him to the completion he craved.

Once we were out of the toilets and back in the aisles of the supermarket,
I handed him a package - well, a plastic bag. "You know what to do with
this, don't you? It's important you don't fuck it up."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You told me, like, a billion times."

"Yeah. Well, do it right."

Harry turned around, very publically adjusting his cock in his trousers as
he did so, and walked out without saying another word. I didn't like being
so reliant on him, but there was little else I could do. And besides, if my
plan failed, the only person who'd take the blame for it was Harry. As out
of favour as I was at ITV, I don't think their dislike would extend to them
believing Harry's story, were he to be discovered, that I'd covertly
hypnotised a group of four straight boys into having gay sex with me, and
had blackmailed Harry into admitting more jism and objects into his body
then most whores do in a lifetime. No...I was quite safe.

Sunday 12th December, 2010

The big day. Day of decision. I thought it would be particularly fitting to
'meet' Liam after the show. I envisaged the chances of the group winning as
better-than-average; but whether they were winners or losers, it didn't
alter my plan to make Liam my fit little bitch.

I had spoken to the other boys individually over Harry's phone, who I
instructed to suggest and be highly supportive of leaving the studio
straight after they got off stage, and go to one of the many hotels in
Central London to celebrate. Liam, of course, was not instructed in the
same way, but I believed that peer pressure would compel him to go along
with it. They were to get five rooms, but congregate in one room,
ostensibly to get drunk via the room's well-stocked minibar. Once this
happened, Harry was to call me, telling me the hotel, and the room
number. I was sat in a wine bar, not far from their location, when my phone
tinkled, with Harry on the other end. He informed me of the hotel and the
room at around 11pm. It was now or never. I got in my car, and made my way
to the hotel.

Being a well-dressed white male, it was no problem at all to stride through
the ornate, if under-populated lobby and make for the lift, as though I
were a guest. I smiled at the single fellow who stood behind the large
reception desk, and who smiled in return. In a few minutes, I was stood
before the door of the room Harry had given me. I knocked. After a few
seconds, the door opened, and a confused looking Louis was stood there,
glass of some spirit or other in his hand, and still in his show clothes of
dark trousers, cream T-Shirt and an open blue shirt - they must of
literally come straight from the show. "Oh, hello," he said. Obviously, he
had been told to avoid contact with me, but thankfully, my instructions to
him previously whilst in a trance held greater sway in his mind then the
instructions of ITV. I heard the raucous boys continuing to shout and
holler at one another, indicating they weren't aware of my
presence. "Hello, Louis. I think I'm expected. And I believe you and the
boys know what to do now, yes?"

"Yeah." I took his drink out of his hand, and sipped it; JD and coke. A
little understrength, for my liking.

"Lead on then, boy."

Louis turned and walked into the room, with me closely behind. I made sure
to close and lock the door. The boys were lying around a fairly small, if
well appropriated lounge, with two sofas and a TV. The TV was on some music
channel. Niall and Zayn were sat on one sofa, each dressed in dark denim
jeans, light T-Shirts and zip-up hoodies of varying colour, whilst Harry
was immersed in a most out-of-place beanbag put in one corner of the room,
attired in smart tan trousers and T-Shirt, and Liam was stretched out on
his back on the other sofa, dressed in a T-shirt and baggy black jeans with
his feet perched over the end of the sofa, trainers off, revealing an
eclectic pair of fluorescent green socks. The boys were laughing at
something or other on the TV when I walked in, but all turned silent as
soon as they saw me. For Liam, this was because he didn't know who the fuck
I was. For the others, it was because my programming was kicking in. If I
was Liam, I'd of moved. Thankfully, I wasn't Liam, and he didn't move a
muscle as the boys, as one, stood and somewhat robotically moved toward
him, with each holding down a finely formed limb, effectively pinning him
to the sofa. He tried to scramble up at the last minute, " this a
joke-lemme go!" he shouted, but it was too late; against four big, strong
boys acting without conscious, he didn't stand a chance. With a boy in each
corner of the sofa, there was enough room for me to perch myself beside
Liam's midsection. The fear in his blue eyes was obvious. "Don't worry,
Liam," I began, "you'll grow to enjoy it, just like the others. Now..." I
surveyed his body like it was a slab of beef. "Let's see what we have to
work with."

I slowly slid my hand under the hem of his cotton T-Shirt, looking at his
face as I did so. He was looking down at my hand intently, as though it
were a hot poker...whilst I did intend to introduce him to the odd hot
poker, that time was not now. He really started struggling when I touched
him, tensing and straining his formidable upper body muscle as he did so;
this was delightful for me, with my finger tips grazing across his tightly
defined little six pack and stroking his fuzzy golden treasure trail, but
quite futile for him - his friends just held him down more firmly. "He's a
fighter!" said Niall, which made Zayn snigger. The boys were all looking
intently, either in homosexual lust or heterosexual curiosity - I didn't
know which - at Liam's crotch. Quite pointless, of course; his trousers
were so baggy that he could've had a cucumber stuffed down there, and you
wouldn't of known. Besides, I knew that regardless of the situation, Liam
should be plenty horny by now.

I knew this because of what I had given Harry in the supermarket, almost a
month ago. A CD of whiny whale-song type music, which I personally couldn't
stand but knew would probably appeal to Liam's typical modern well moulded
teen boy ethos of save-the-children, help-the-baboons, and
get-the-Bangladeshi's-to-make-my -reeboks-even-more-cheaply type
attitude. Harry was under instructions to ensure Liam would listen to it
every night, whilst he was sleeping. Unknown to Liam, the music obscured a
monotone voice, relaying various instructions into his subconscious; this
indoctrination, whilst highly unorthodox, had been well explored during the
Cold War, and had a generally excellent track record. It was to be sold to
Liam on the basis that it'd done Harry's nerves a world of good, and would
probably help him, too. Knowing how competitive the two boys were, Liam
would almost certainly do anything to improve his 'performance'. Whilst it
did contain elements to improve his musical performance, it also, shall we
say, served to stunt his performance in other areas - one demand was that
Liam would be unable to get an erection or ejaculate unless another man was
working on him. Being straight, of course, this meant that he hadn't cum in
a month or so. But I imagined, like Harry, he'd left little night-time
deposits for cleaners to find. However, the CD's sublayer was mostly
concerned with more fundamental alterations to Liam. Vast tracts of the CD
was dedicated to ensuring that Liam's mind would believe whatever I
instructed it to believe, once I had properly identified myself with a
special key-phrase.

Oh, and yes, you're right. I could've uttered the key-phrase at any point
since entering the room; I was putting him through this, just for shits and
giggles, really. exercise in control. It's weird how mental sadism
has become a big part of my life since I started dominating these teens.

My trailing hand, having satisfied itself with the gentle ridges of the
boys firm abdomen, started to slide up, up his firm chest, whilst my other
hand grasped, squeezed, and ran along the length of his bicep. Both were
still straining furiously, in an effort to break free from his
bondage. Muscles on teens are funny things. They work out all day and night
to get them, and they are always so gently defined; so yielding. Not like
the musculature of an older, worked-out man - which is hard, and like
running your hand across a mountain range. Liam was exactly in that mould;
not Mr. Universe, but certainly well-sculpted, smooth, and fresh.

"" he said to me, for the first time since I'd entered the
room, through gritted teeth.

Reaching the lower ridge of his pectoral, my hand slid up across the final
furlong, settling in the centre of the warm muscle, with my enquiring
finger-pad slowly doing laps around his areola, occasionally scratching it
for him with the unkempt nail.

"No," I replied, with confident smile.

I ran my hand away from his bicep and up under his arm, and into the dank
confines of his armpit, still beneath the T-Shirt. Swirling the fine hairs
around my fingers, I withdrew, sniffed, and licked them. They smelt mostly
of deodorant, but his exertions had produced the subtle, baser scent of the
lad, and this, I enjoyed savouring. With my fingers now wet, I slid my hand
back into the arm of his T-Shirt, across to his other pectoral, and
squeezed his nipple, hard, twisting as I did so. He let out a pained moan,
"fuckin queers," he screamed, showing signs that he was beginning to lose
his cool - and with good reason.

By now I'd had my fill of denigrating the moody lad. Removing my hands from
his taut body, I spoke the predictably ridiculous trigger phrase. "Reverend
Pelast's onion emporium," which caused him to sink into a coma-like
trance. I motioned for the boys to let him go, which they did, and stepped
back a little, Harry and Zayn absent-mindedly stroking themselves as they
looked on; or Zayn might of been scratching himself. I imagine he got quite
a few tickles down there, given how I'd sheared him. But either way, it
turned me on. "Liam, listen to my voice, and follow my instructions,
without question, do you understand?"


"Very good. Open your eyes for me."

Liam's blue eyes fluttered open, and once again, he made a jump for it -
thankfully, the boys grappled him down before he could land his powerful
fist on me. "Liam, stop resisting," I instructed, and immediately the fight
went out of him. The flash of confusion and anger on his face was
palpable. I once again called my little pussy hounds off, telling them it
was safe to leave him be. I retrieved the remote control for the TV, and
turned it from the hilariously bland 'Magic' music channel to something
teenagers should be a little more interested in - but to my dismay, the
porn channels were all blocked. "Harry, get on the phone to the front
desk. Tell them you want access to...Playboy, Red Hot TV, and Television

Harry picked up the phone. "Um, yeah. Hello. This is, err, room 3413. We,
err...the porn stuff, on the TV, can you make them come on? I...well,
someone here, wants to see what it looks like. Umm...yeah, I know the
cost. Yeah. No, just put it on. Um...P-Playboy, Red...Hot TV, and
Television...err, X. Yeah. 'K, thanks." Harry slammed the phone
down. "Honestly - once, just FUCKING once - can you not get one of THE
OTHERS to do that crap?!" Ignoring him, I went on to instruct Niall to
remove Louis' clothes, and Zayn to remove Harry's, and once that was done,
they should swap over. I wanted to keep my own interests focussed on Liam,
for the moment.

Act One: Cum One

His zip was a clunky metal one, a made a nice, crisp noise as I lowered
it. My hand snaked into the warm interior of his trousers. I looked at his
face, which was intently looking down at my hand as I placed it squarely
over his not-entirely-soft cock; it gave an unintentional little lurch in
his boxers as my hand grazed the spongy tube and with my finger tips coming
to rest cradling his balls. "Well boys," I said, "he ain't soft, so I think
he must like this sort of thing." Liam looked like he was about to throw
up. No, he really did. And he was breathing heavily, which I think was due
more to him being midway through some sort of panic attack, rather than
being turned on. With the position of my hand and the position of his cock,
I couldn't tell how long he was, because I couldn't feel the end - but I
took this as a good sign of the lad having an admirable length. His balls
were either naturally big, or bloated with all the teen spunk they
contained. My admiration of teen-boys was such that I liked to think such a
thing actually happened.

After getting the measure of him, I extracted my hand, and instructed him
to stand before me, with his hands laced behind his head. I sat back on the
now empty sofa, gripping Liam's hips and bringing him closer before
me. Keeping a firm hold of his hips, I could see through his zip, still
open and stretched wide by my inquisitive hand, to the white boxer-briefs
within. On an impulse, I rooted my snout through the open zip of his jeans,
slipping my hands round to take grip of each meaty, rounded butt-cheek in
order to better control his pelvis. With a single, deep breath, I took in
the carnal, robust scent of his groin, which was so overpowering it flooded
my senses like an aphrodisiac. There was a hint of soap, but it was
dominated by the smell of vinegary bollocks and tart precum. I held my
position for about 45 seconds, the bridge of my nose weighed down by the
shaft of his cock, just breathing in his majesty, with my fingers digging
into the seemingly unending depth of muscle over his arse. He looked down
on me, with pity, I think. Which I was fine with, for the moment.

Extricating my nose from the teens trousers, I unfastened the buckle of his
belt, looking at the consternation on his face as I did so - consternation
his brain would allow him to realise, but not allow him to act upon. Once
undone, his jeans sagged appreciably, revealing the waistband of his white
Calvin Klein's. Slipping the button free of his jeans took a few long,
arduous seconds - they were obviously brand new; probably never worn
before. Once undone, however, the baggy trousers collapsed to mid-thigh,
and were soon joined by his boxers, all of which I pushed down his long
legs and removed in a few seconds. This left him standing there in his
T-Shirt and bright green socks, which I envisioned in my mind's eye as
looking particularly amusing later in the evening, when I planned to have
the hunky straight boy on his back, legs pointing to heavens.

Instructing him to lift his T-Shirt and slide it back behind his neck, I
could at last appreciate what a finely built stud he was. His T-Shirt,
bought by costume designers eager to show off his upper-body, had been
moulded to the slopes of his pecs, but with it removed, I could at last see
the lads undulating chest; the wide plains of his pecs, as well as the
hillocks of his eight pack, all completely hairless, save for that dirty
blond treasure trail.

And what treasure. His pubes, which were lush and bushy, had the same,
wet-blond hue as his abdomen and pits. They framed a beaut of a cock. Like
his face, it was a completely smooth, alabaster-hued spike without any
observable blue veins, and like his head (the one on his neck), it was
bigger than average, and thick. The sticky pink head peaked out beyond his
white crusty foreskin, stiff with the little pearls of prejizz that had
seeped out and coalesced around his loose crown in just the couple of hours
since his pre-show shower. His balls were fairly tight in his sack, like
two walnuts in a crinkly, silky bag. Reaching up with my left hand, I
gently ran my fingernails down his sack - not to turn him on; just to see
if he was indeed hairless, but I detected a low, almost inaudible exhale of
breath, which turned into a low growl as my nails trailed along his
man-jewels, taking my first step in scratching that invisible itch for
him. As I suspected, he had a finely defined, soft-blond fuzz all about his
sack, which I delighted in becoming better acquainted with for a few

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other boys all looking on,
naked, and wanking themselves with varying degrees of speed and endurance:
Louis' forearm moving up and down with a well-practiced, methodical rhythm,
stroking himself slowly and luxuriously, offset by Niall's skinny little
wrist a blur, the good Catholic boy going at it like a jackrabbit. It
seemed his previous reservations concerning masturbation had been overcome,
possibly during one of the many fuck sessions he and Harry had engaged in
for the past several weeks.

Liam, was still stood with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. I
withdrew my hands from his balls, gripping and then sliding up along the
rubbery shaft of his erect prick, bunching all the skin up around the head,
like a rose. Letting go of the organ, the skin retracted once more, with
the head peeking halfway out, wondering what the fuck was going on (the
poor thing hadn't been played with for a month). I ran the tip of my finger
around the crown for a moment, smearing his pre over the glossy head,
getting his drippings over my index finger as I massaged his sensitive
glans. "oooooh," he quietly sighed, in a higher pitch than normal. The more
I moisturised it into him, the more he produced for me. I imagined he had a
more then plentiful supply, but I was eager for a taste, and wanted to work
a real load out of him. Gripping his head, I slowly retracted the foreskin,
revealing his pink bulb to the world, together with the gamey, guttural
scent of it. Keeping a tight mid-shaft grip on him, my lips descended to
encapsulate the head along with a quarter of the seven and a half inch
shaft, with me withdrawing, sucking as I did so, until I held just the
plum-like nozzle in my mouth. Fluttering my tongue around his sensitive
glans, the constant drizzle of sweetly spiced precum was occasionally
replaced with a forced spurt, accompanied with a subtle thrusting of hips
and a tensing of cock, as a reward for my efforts. Once I had sated my
thirst for juice, and wanted something creamier, my lips slid back down his
salty cock, making contact with my hand at the base, which was twisting and
wanking him with a firm grip. Or at least, initially, with a firm
grip. After a few minutes, when his hips started thrusting methodically and
his breathing became ragged, my hand's pressure decreased considerably. I
just barely touched the shaft, whilst I lifted my face from his musky
groin, and ran the very tip of my tongue along the length of his cock again
and again like it were a wet candy-cane, taking up the drizzle that was
still emanating from his slit. After a thorough, but quick vacuum-sucking
of each low hanging salty bollock, I returned to the pale shaft, taking him
into my mouth and burying him in the back of my throat, with my nose
sniffing and snorting the musky aroma of his pubes. This caused the lad to
stand on tiptoe in surprise, groaning loudly, and deeply, before uttering
"aahhhh, FUCK." His hand went to the back of my head, and pushed, mashing
my face into his cock, before he withdrew himself; my hands, rubbing up and
down the back of his long thighs and fine ass, revelled in the hardness of
every sinew and muscle as he thrust back into me. Pretty soon, he was
face-fucking me - totally dominating me - with animalistic brutality, and I
absolutely loved it. Pretty soon, the inevitable happened, and he started
unloading into my mouth; the contents of his balls was propelled into me,
spurt after creamy, flavoursome spurt, thick with protein and millions of
little Liam's. Once he started to come down off the plateau of his orgasm,
marked with two or three gentler, but still delicious jets of sperm coating
my mouth and tongue, he withdrew his fine meat tube from my mouth, leaving
me with a mouthful of zesty, warm, Liam-branded double-cream smoothie.

I gulped some of it down, relishing the tasty, viscous liquid sliding down
my gullet - I had to, lest I not breath - but I quickly sought to regain
control of the situation. Not easy when you've got a mouthful of a
teenagers sperm, with the teenager still standing there before you, you
might think - but I stood and with the boy standing there, his eyes closed
in a post-orgasmic high, I roughly kissed him on the lips. I forced my
tongue past his pearly white teeth, and returned some of his straight-boy
spunk back to him, causing his eyes to open wide in horror - but unable to
do anything about it, due more to the hand I had fixed to the back of his
head, rather than any more subtle hypnotic suggestions. After a slow,
lingering kiss, which saw his tongue dart this way and that in an effort to
avoid mine, I slowly withdrew, with him breaking free of my grasp and
falling back a couple of steps, losing his balance, and falling onto his
back. As he propped himself up on his elbows to look at me through his
splayed legs, I saw his expression was one of revulsion, but his randy
prick was half-hard. Had it ever been soft? I didn't think to check. Either
way, it was obvious what was going to happen next.

Act Three, Cum Two

Clearing the distance between us in a step, I quickly leant down and
gripped his prick once again, squeezing it and causing one final, thick
dollop of jizz out of his piss-slit, which I gently massaged around the
exposed head, causing him to moan. "Ready to go another round, kiddo?" I
asked, stroking slower then he would've liked. Wasting no time, I pulled
him up by his prick, taking him with me as I walked back to the
sofa. Looking at the rest of the boys as I did so, I was pleased to see
that Harry had now taken over Niall's wanking for him, going up and down
the boys short fat spark plug at a far more leisurely pace, whilst Niall
was somewhat more clumsily masturbating Harry's thinner, longer
prick. "Louis, put your socks and trainers on and get over here." Louis did
as requested, a look of apprehension on his face as he did up the laces on
his white nike shoes, and approached me, his hard meat, slick with
sweat-infused prejizz, swaying from side-to-side. When he was within range,
I took him by the shoulders, positioned him in front of the sofa, and made
him first kneel, and then bend over, his head wedged in the point where the
seat and back of the sofa met, his long, fit footballer's legs spread out
behind him, the tips of his shoes seeking purchase on the carpet. Taking
Liam, who had an interestingly predatory leer on his face, I placed him
behind Louis, who said in an agitated, if muffled tone, "err, what's going
on? I...I don't like tHIS." His voice went up in volume quite considerably,
as I had Liam, very much against his will, lean down and run his sloppy
tongue along the hairy, musky trench between Louis' muscled
arse-cheeks. Liam's cock deflated considerably.

After one pass, he withdrew his head, "URGHHHH", he shouted, and coughed.

I leaned down to speak to Louis, "did he lick your button, Louis?"

"No!" Louis chirpily shouted back.

I turned to Liam. "Now, Liam, I told you - the whole reason you have to do
this is so that you don't hurt your friend. Do you want to hurt your

"Well, no, but-"

"Then get back down there, and make sure your TONGUE licks across his
ARSEHOLE, really hard. Ok? Infact, do that a few times - say, four or five,
and then push your tongue into him as hard as you can, and keep doing that
until I tell you to stop."

"Into him?" His cute little brow furrowed. The poor delicate petal couldn't
even begin to conceptualise what it was I was asking him to do.

"Yes. Your tongue. Into him."

The furrow turned to a frown, which darkened into amazement. "Oh...OH,
that's sick! I can't do that!"

"Liam, trust me: you totally can." Even as I spoke, the demands I had
placed on his mind to do whatever I said compelled him to lower his head to
Louis' darkened nether regions, tongue out, nose poking Louis' arsehole as
he ran his tongue along the prickly surface.

Turning to the other three, I instructed Niall to sit down, beside Louis'
head on the sofa, and Zayn to get himself between the Irish cherub's chunky
little legs. Zayn did this, leading me to say as I pushed his head into the
teen's pungent crotch, "Zayn, why don't you give Niall a blow-job. Just
remember what feels good for you, and try to do it for him on his dick."

He haphazardly began licking up the side of Niall's granite-hard cock, who
was very generously egging him on with comments like, "pretend it's a lolly
pop", and "don't worry, it doesn't make you gay."

Harry, who was watching everything with wide-eyed fascination as he stroked
himself, was ushered over by myself to join in. He apprehensively walked
over, eyeing me suspiciously, his hand protectively stroking his cock, if
you can imagine such a thing. Putting him behind an oblivious Zayn, I got
him on his knees, and took delight in using my hand to grease up his damp
cock with the KY Jelly Harry had thoughtfully brought with him to the
hotel, with his eyes flitting from staring at my hand, to staring at Zayn's
ass. Once suitably lubed up, I instructed him to go for gold, and he
eagerly aimed his prick at Zayn's hairless crack and, reaching around his
chest to gain greater purchase, thrust into the boy in one fell swoop,
growling as he did so whilst Zayn's "ARGGHHHH GET IT OUT GET THE FUCK OUT"
was slightly more ear-piercing. Thankfully, he didn't bite Niall's cock off
in anger: rather, after I pushed his head back down into Niall cock, he
returned to dutifully sucking Niall, albeit between deep breaths and
stopping every few seconds to groan in pain at the comparatively gentle
fucking he was receiving at the hands of Harry's long, thick tube of
flesh. This had the useful, if completely unintentional affect of ensuring
Niall didn't achieve orgasm - but he was used to that. I noticed Harry and
Niall's eyes locked at one point, Harry's face coated in perspiration as he
was fucking the lad who was simultaneously sucking Niall, and they giggled
mischievously, like two schoolboys who'd just played a naughty prank on a
particularly obstinate teacher. I so wanted to pull out my cock and fire my
seed over Harry's pouty fat lips, but I refrained: as a gentleman getting
on in years, I had to be careful how and when I came tonight, making sure
it was really worthwhile. I wasn't seventeen anymore.

But thankfully, Liam was, and I intended to wring more than one load out of
him tonight. Turning my attention back to the spunky lad, I observed him,
leant over so his face was entrenched in Louis' deep, pale cheeks. I still
couldn't see Louis' face, but I knew this was exactly the sort of thing a
dirty little sod like him would enjoy. "Alright, Liam, that's enough." He
withdrew, breathing deeply, and wiping his wet, shell-shocked face
repeatedly as he looked down at my feet, unable to look at me
directly. "Right, lets get you out of that T-Shirt," he raised his hands
above his head as I removed it from his neck, catching a strong whiff of
the lynx and the masculinity coalescing in his armpits as I did so. "Time
for cum number two, Liam. Mount him, and fuck him. Louis, shut up and stay
where you are." I knew Louis' reaction would not be positive, so sought to
stop him before he could start. Liam, like all seventeen year old straight
boys, was the sexual equivalent of the energiser bunny when it came to ass
fucking, regardless of whether a male of a female is involved. As such, he
got to it immediately, mounting his friend like a dog mounting a bitch. He
took his organ in hand, and directed it to Louis' puckered bulls eye. Liam
acted with the cool serenity of a guy who had done this before. I would
make a point of getting him to tell me about it later, I thought. I just
stood there for a minute, watching as he built up a good head of steam. He
began slowly, on the tip-toes of his socked feet, which were curled into
and gripping the deep rug beneath him, like a hawk, in order to give his
long, athletic legs sufficient power to thrust into Louis' warm insides. I
also took note of Liam's alabaster skin, offset by the contrast of Louis'
darker, huskier tone. After a minute, he started to thrust faster, and
harder, all the while maintaining his long, penetrating strokes. Pretty
soon, he was accompanying each thrust with a groan of exertion, like a
tennis player.

Whilst his speed steadily increased, his force and depth was constant:
always as hard as he could go, and always balls-deep. Soon, he was fucking
his mate with all the vim and vigour of the teenager he was, his left arm
wrapped around Louis' neck, his head buried in the boy's dark hair, his own
blond hair matted down with the sweat that comes from constant, energetic
fucking. I slowly walked around the two boys, watching Liam's fine physique
go at it, with muscles contracting and releasing in perfect sync with one
another. It was obvious that Liam was a boy who, underneath the cheeky
grin, well-mannered attitude and baggy Gap jeans and T-Shirts, had a body
that was built for fucking, and revelled in dominating his sexual partners:
Louis was now just lying there, allowing Liam to just rape his straight
arse in his own time, like a prone cow. Liam, deciding he was bored of this
position, pulled out, and in about seven seconds, had flipped Louis over
onto his back, thrown his legs up out of the way, and returned to fucking
him with a high tempo. Louis' legs rested on Liam's shoulders; his
sneakers, which were hooked betwixt one another around Liam's neck, shaking
each time Liam threw himself back into him. This happened often. His head
rested on the seat of the sofa, with Liam now standing at full extension
over him, so he could fully bear down on poor Louis, pile driving into him
every few seconds, his right arm placed beside Louis' head, his left on the
top of the sofa, to support his weight.

As he thrusted and retracted, I stood behind him, placing my hand on his
ass cheek, feeling the muscles tense and release as he continued
fucking. He maintained his rhythm, without consideration for my hand. My
other hand cupped his balls as he slid out, and they were wet - positively
soaked in the sweat and voluminous pre-cum which must've seeped down his
cock and coated his balls over the course of his hearty fucking. Coating my
hand with as much of his ball-liquor as I could, I withdrew my hand and
licked it clean of the tangy residue. I then slid my thumb into the crease
of his sweaty arse, and rubbed his tight hole with the thickest of my
digits. When he really started hammering away in anticipation of cumming, I
instructed him to stop, with him buried in Louis' arse, "just...bit more,"
he moaned. I ignored him, naturally. With him stationary, his legs taut and
his peachy arse at rest, I took the opportunity to kneel and perform for
him what he'd been good enough to perform for Louis. I ran my tongue up and
down his cavernous crack a few times, before jamming my snake-like tongue
into his tight sphincter, with him exclaiming "ah...oh...ah...ah..." with
each forceful jab. He tasted clean, yet very male, and when his butt-cheeks
clenched with the initial surprise, he nearly turned my tongue into a
pancake - but he thankfully got used to the sensation, and released. Once
he'd gotten used to the pleasurable invasion, he emitted
"ahhh...HAHA...Ahhhhhah"; half groan, half laugh, as I jammed my tongue
past his slick portal and into his fleshy insides. I gripped his hips and
pushed him forward, slotting him as far into Louis as he could go, so I
could hold him fast with my head wedged up his blond teen ass. With my nose
once again becoming better acquainted with a collection of Liam's tangled
sweaty body hairs, I sought to go deeper and deeper into him, knowing he
could not push forward anymore to avoid my tongue. I also thought it was
probably pretty funny for the two 'straight' boys to be face-to-face, one
balls deep in the other, whilst he was being rimmed for all he was worth by
a third man. Me.

Pulling out of him, I laid myself over him, the structural support of his
biceps flexing as they strained to take both his own weight as well as some
of my own. I licked, first along the fine, salty beats of sweat descending
along his neck, and then licking and biting his left ear and the strands of
long blond hair covering it. My right hand returned between his legs, with
my fingers curling around his bulging sweaty nutsack, massaging and yanking
his masculinity (as was my want), whilst whispering in his shell-like ear,
"quite the eager young bull, aren't we Liam? Get a kick from spunking up
your mates' arses, don't you? But when your seventeen, I guess any hole'll
do, right? I mean sure, you like girls, but if a guy like Louis is around
to receive for you, well, why not, eh? Some people wouldn't do it, of
course - some people are discerning - but you, well your just an ignorant
little beast, bred to breed, right? Yeah, I know your sort, Liam. Don't
worry, I know you. The real you. I'll take good care of you, for a good
long while...and you'll be glad to know, we're nearly at the finishing
line, fella. Not long to go." Removing myself from his body, I slapped his
arse as I proclaimed "hi ho, silver." I don't think he got the reference,
but the slap on the arse certainly got the message across, and he returned
to fucking with wild abandon, his mind ruminating, as best it could, on my
quiet soliloquy to him. For my part, I knelt down beside Louis' face on the
sofa. His eyes were closed, and he was completely unmoving, as though he
were in a coma. I pushed my index and middle fingers into his mouth, past
his teeth, resting it on his lax tongue, which instinctively wrapped itself
around the invading digit and began to gently nurse it, like a babe. Once
nice and wet, I withdrew it, with it making a satisfying 'popping' sound as
I did.

But I was dismayed to hear the moaning and groaning on the other side of
the sofa reaching a higher, almost crushing tempo. Niall appeared quite
pissed off with Zayn's blowjob, but Harry had taken a leaf out of Liam's
book and was fucking his husky friend with wild abandon. Whilst he lacked
the deliciously long, disciplined strokes of Liam, he was quite a site to
behold, and was clearly dangerously close to cumming. "Harry, stop right
now!" If I hadn't instructed him to stop...well, he would've been a far
happier boy, but it would've upset my plans somewhat. Thankfully however,
he halted his exertions, mid-stroke, and let out a groan of dismay in
response. Calling Harry over, he clumsily - angrily, you might say -
withdrew and stood by my side, no doubt thinking I intended for him to get
to work on Liam. It should absolutely go without saying that I did not want
that. No, I directed him to keep young Louis distracted. His absent-minded
tongue had been most arousing on my finger, so to help Harry cool his jets
whilst keeping him horned up, I directed him to sink his musky, fat
ballsack into his friends uncaring mouth. I watched as Harry manoeuvred
between Liam and Louis, squatting down directly over Louis' face and, after
I'd encouraged Louis' mouth to open slightly by rubbing his pillowy lips
for a minute, slide his silky sack into the waiting, moist orifice. Louis'
lips slowly closed around the ballsack, and I could see Louis' Adams Apple
move rhythmically as he went to work sucking on the big teen's
nads. Satisfied, I returned to my position behind Liam, where I shoved my
two wet fingers as far as they would go up his saliva-sodden arse.

What more lube could the boy need?! Apparently, lots, because he screamed
out really quite loudly - but didn't see fit to stop his animalistic
fucking. I leant over and whispered in his ear, "you think this is bad,
sunshine, you ought to have a dose of what you're giving poor Louis - you
should be bloody ashamed of yourself." I glanced down, and took in what was
one hell of a view: straight boy Louis, completely unresponsive after being
on the receiving end of a fucking of a lifetime, sucking Harry's nuts, as
provided to him by the angelic teen being perched over him like a chicken
laying an egg. I timed my finger fucking to coincide with Liam's thrusting,
trying to match him for uncompromising brutality, but failing. To be fair,
my finger was not nearly as well built as his body, the entirety of which
was dedicated to forcing his cock as far as it would go up Louis' rectum,
so I lacked a lot of the power Liam had bundles of. After leisurely rooting
around his insides with my fingers, I found what I was looking for,
initially grazing, and then prodding it. I did this again, again and one
more time, with his speed increasing ever faster as I did so, before he
howled like a wild coyote and shot what must of been one hell of a load up
Louis' insides. Liam collapsed on top of his friend, their heads alongside
one another, trying to catch their breath. Extracting my fingers from his
humid insides, I reached between Harry's toned outstretched thighs, eying
his angry red cock-head as I did so, and once again slipped it into Louis'
mouth, my fingers curling up beside Harry's balls, and waited whilst Louis
again lovingly nursed the now more flavoursome digits, seemingly gaining
sustenance from it, whilst I stroked Liam's soaked blond hair. Louis yelped
slightly when I withdrew my fingers, nice and clean and shiny.

Act Three, Cum Three

Looking over at the other two, I was delighted to see a look on anguish on
young Niall's face, prevented from cumming by Zayn's frequent pauses to
moan, groan, cough, splutter, and otherwise take a time out from giving
what was a predictably subpar blowjob. Liam had begun to withdraw his tired
cock from Louis, who uttered a pained "ummmrggh" when it was out, his
sneakered foot collapsing to the floor with a loud thud. After telling
Harry to get his balls out of Louis' face, I demanded the other boys stop
and get up, but thought better of making the same request of Louis, who I
feared had genuinely lost the use of his legs. But his cock wasn't entirely
soft, so he must of seen some merit in the treatment he'd just
had...although I doubt his girlfriend would agree. Liam was lying on his
side, propped up on one elbow alongside Louis, having just removed his soft
cock from his marked bitch, looking down at both Louis, and his cock, in
quiet, post-coital reflection. I interrupted his reflective mood by rolling
him over onto his back. Kneeling between his splayed legs, I went to get a
grip on one of his firm calves whilst I unzipped myself with my other hand,
at which point, knowing what was coming, he began scrambling to get
up. Pointing my finger at him as I did so, I shouted, "STAY." And like a
good doggie (who was compelled to follow instruction), he did exactly that,
lying back down on the sofa, and staring at me with those sweet baby blues
of his.

I finished extracting my painfully erect cock from my trousers, and let
Harry do the honours of coating my cock with KY - it was, after all, his
tube; but he didn't like the job. "Ugh, God's sake," he muttered whilst
coating me and unintentionally wanking me with his smooth, unworked
middle-class fingers. I shooed him away after the job was done, as I did
not want to cum now after waiting all this time; I amused myself watching
him scamper away from my groin like a little monkey. Once ready, I placed
each of Liam's pale, chunky calves on my shoulders, so my head was framed
by big, stinky bright green teenboy feet, the toes writhing around inside
the damp cotton out of anticipation and fear. I craned my neck to the left,
and planted a kiss on the flank of his socked big toe, picking up the
subtle taste of the funk accrued over the course of the day's exertions of
performing at the studios, and then the night's exertions of performing in
a very different way at the hotel, but I don't think it did much to calm
his nerves. He just closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. Positioning
myself at his entrance, I applied pressure - gently, at first - until the
slick head of my cock squeezed past his muscular straight ring. Keeping a
hand on his shoulder and the other wrapped around his right foot to keep
him locked in position, I steadily pushed forward into his warm buttery
bowels. He emitted a quiet, low "hurmmmmmm" with his eyes tightly shut, as
I moved ever forward, until I tapped out with my balls resting on his deep
ass crack. Slowly withdrawing so just the head remained inside the lad, I
gripped his sweaty foot and firm shoulder harder, and slammed forward,
"AHHHHGH, FUCKER," he shouted, eyes wide open. I don't think he made the
'fucker' comment knowingly, but I got a certain pleasure from the
unintentional accuracy of it. Releasing his shoulder, I fixed a hand on
each of his pale muscled thighs, now parallel to my chest, before quickly
withdrawing and slamming into him, pushing him back into the sofa as far as
he would go. "AHHMGhhh," he went. I slowly withdrew again until just the
tip remained in him, anchored by the curve of my glans and the rigidity of
his anal ring, and again quickly re-entered, doing so again and again in a
melodic, rhythmic fashion, delighting in his moans turning to groans, as
well as the flexing of his thighs, rendering them like stone, each time I
slid back into him.

Zayn and Harry were masturbating themselves watching us, but Niall -
obviously watching Harry's escapades earlier with perky interest had,
without any prompting from myself, mounted Louis and was squatting over his
face, knees splayed wide, crown jewels getting a thorough tongue-lashing by
the poor unthinking straight lad. Louis had the added indignity of having
his nose forcefully wedged up Niall's funky hirsute ass, by virtue of him
effectively sitting on his face, rocking himself gently backwards and
forwards on the heels of his feet, ensuring Louis could get his tongue
around every unclean ballhair down there.

"So Liam," I said between strokes, "how often have you fucked a person up
the ass?"

"A...a...coupla times," he said, his breath ragged, eyes unfocused. It was
difficult for him to focus on the words, given the constant fucking he was
receiving at the same time.

"Right, ok. Was it boys or girls you fucked?"

"Girls!" he said, as though genuinely offended at the implication that it
might of been otherwise.

"And how did this come about? Girls, in my experience, aren't mad-keen on
getting fucked up the ass."

"Th...they wanted me to fuck 'em. A-a-and, and I said that I would, but
unless they were virrrrgins, then I'd only do it up their"

"Hehe. I see. Quite the heartbreaker, eh?"

"Nn....o, no it-it-it's not like THAT, it's just ssssseeeexxxxxx."

"Sure. And like I said earlier, if a fine looking young bull like yourself
wants something, well, you'll just take it, right?"

"I-if...if they wanna, sure, wHYYY not, man?"

"Yes, quite the bull," I said quietly, more to myself then to him, running
my hand down and across Liam's full-looking, peachfuzzed nutsack. Doing
this, I got it into my head how he still looked a little bloated and, if
correctly 'pressured', would probably benefit from firing off another
volley of spunk. The knowledge that Liam would disagree with such an
assessment, only sweetened the deal. But, this presented a logistical
problem: deciding that I wanted to work a final load out of him would
require my actors to adapt their roles somewhat.

"Harry, Zayn, get over here." Harry and Zayn moved as directed, and I
ordered them into position, like live-action dolls. I left Niall where he
was; he seemed happy enough. Especially when he changed position and,
reaching behind Louis' head and running his hand through his fine, dark
hair, tilted his head up so he could slot his thick cock down Louis'
throat, resulting in a satisfied groan from Niall who, looking up at the
ceiling, was no doubt thanking God for finding someone in this room who
could deliver an adequate blowjob.

Zayn was on his knees beside me and the prone Liam. He was reaching across
Liam's midsection and furiously jacking blondie's cock, as I had
directed. Liam, unhappy for his sleepy, worn-out little knobhead to once
again get fiddled by big, sweaty calloused man-hands, was shouting
"Urgh...shtop...sop it..." I presume he was saying 'stop it', although it
was obviously difficult to tell, owing to Harry being on his knees between
us, towering over Liam's face, his slimy prick at the back of Liam's
throat, whose tongue was being compelled into removing all the debris from
Harry's earlier expedition into Zayn's arse. Forcing myself into his round
butt as often and as deeply as I could, I was trying to match Liam's
earlier example for brutal, uncaring carnality, whilst also trying to aim
at that pesky G-Spot I'd found so easily earlier in the evening with my
tongue - but Liam had set the bar pretty damn high when it came to the
brutalising carnality, and I'm really not sure if I matched it. "You know,
Liam," I began, "I'm not entirely sure you're quite the bull I thought you
were. Looking at your current situation, you look more like...well, like
your being milked? Like, this is your third milking of the night? Doesn't
that make you a fat fucking heffer? A little bitch?"

"UGHhh, nahooo," he shouted in consternation, now eager to re-associate
himself with the label of 'bull'.

"Yeah. I think that's how it is, Liam. You're my little cow. You graze all
day, not doing very much, just eating and looking after yourself, and in
return, us proper men milk you for your tasty vitamins. That's how it
works, isn't it? Isn't that right, Daisy?"

He didn't respond. Zayn, like a lot of straight boys, was a lot better at
hand-jobs then he was at blowjobs, owing to the fact that he'd given
himself more than a few over the years, and knew what worked. His hand was
really flying up and down the poor lad's tormented shaft and, whilst the
slippery organ slipped out of his hand every now and again due to my
fucking slamming Liam's entire form into the back of the sofa, I think the
two-tone directional friction he was receiving, with his body moving in one
direction and Zayn's hand moving in another, generally served to nicely
build him up - although Liam, who's pained moaning didn't stop from the
moment Zayn wrapped his hand around his prick, obviously thought
differently. Watching Harry's butt flex in and out of Liam's mouth turned
me on nicely, and dipping the tip of my right index finger in some of the
syrupy prejizz that was frothing at the head of Liam's prick, I returned my
finger to his steamy anus, sliding up his passage to the knuckle in one go,
pushing him forward, and nearly killing Liam from asphyxiation. After a few
seconds, I managed to time the rhythm of my hand with the rhythm of my
dick, which meant I didn't need to think about it - it was seriously weird
for a moment however; having to devote so much brain power to making both
my finger and my cock do what I wanted! Like patting your head and rubbing
your tummy at the same time.

Louis' cock, now erect, was proudly on display between his muscular legs,
clearly getting into the blowjob he was being compelled to provide Niall
with. Hoping I wasn't biting off more then I could chew, so to speak, I
took my left hand - my preferred wanking hand (no, really), and took a good
grip of the teenagers clammy dick. Moving very slowly and uncertainly to
begin with, I began to move my hand up and down, seeking to build up speed
as quickly as possible - given the finger I had in Harry and the dick I had
in Liam, I had neither the physical nor the mental dexterity necessary to
start performing any tricks on Louis. Whilst I couldn't see Louis' face,
his legs started randomly opening and closing, a clear sign of excitement
in a boy, which told me I was getting close. Suddenly Harry, who was now
crouching just over Liam's face at the top of the sofa, with his two thighs
completely encapsulating the lad in Harry's flesh and body scent, screamed
"AHAAAAGH, YES", and raised his head in orgasmic bliss. Pulling him back so
I could see better, his cock flew out of Liam's pursed lips and coated his
cute, cheeky little face in streams of Harry's steamy sperm. This tipped me
over the edge, causing me to fire jet after powerful jet up into Liam's
bowels and, feeling his feet tighten so hard around my neck that he was
practically guillotining me with them, he in turn came, surprising me when
he started screaming "MMMMOOOO, MOOOOO", actually like a milking cow,
firing stream after stream of spunk as he did so; when I had said earlier,
'you're a cow', he had obviously taken it literally in his hypnotised
mind. As he carried on I shouted "ok, ok, fine, you're not a fucking cow
anymore." Zayn, who unbeknownst to me had been wanking himself the whole
time, suddenly stood, towering over Liam's unmoving form and immediately
added to the pools of spunk coating his sweaty chest with his own
contribution of thicker, whiter gravy, choking his stiff, hairless cock
whilst I, having by this point extracted my finger from Harry's ass, yanked
his silky-smooth ballsack for him. Niall, who's brain overloaded with the
raunchiness of these unfolding developments, came straight down Louis' open
gullet, the straight boy gulping down the Catholic boy's thick seed and, as
he was doing so, erupting all over himself, and my hand. Everyone was,
briefly, too shocked to move. After a moment, Zayn staggered backwards a
few steps, collapsing into the other sofa. Niall, removing his cock from
Louis' mouth, was so dazed that he lost his footing and fell off the boy,
off the sofa, and landed onto his head on the floor, where he stumbled to
his feet, and then fell over onto the floor again, except staying down this
time. Harry swung his right leg over Liam's unmoving body, and then slid to
the floor, moving on all fours, away from the action and only stopping when
reached one of the far walls to lean against. Louis stayed where he
was. Only his blinking told me he was still alive.

I looked at my hands. The one had been up Harry's arse. The other was
coated in pellets of Louis' jism. "Suck this," I instructed Liam, putting
my finger before him. He sniffed it, and turned away. I forced the finger
into his mouth, and kept it in there, looking him in the eye. "Do it. The
sooner you do it, the sooner it's out." I felt currents of saliva begin to
form around my finger as he grudgingly sucked the mucky finger. I pulled my
finger out, and then put my hand infront of him. "Now lick this." He looked
at me for a few seconds, thinking. Then he slowly, lazily licked across my
palm, like a dog licking up beef gravy, before taking each finger into his
mouth and gently sucking them, until the whole of my hand was slick with
his spit. Only then did I withdraw my soft cock from his violated anus, and
lean down, licking the pearls of his and Zayn's loads from his studly
chest, which had mixed with Liam's torso sweat to create a masculine,
teenlad soup which I wish I could've bottled.

Act Three: The Final Thrill

Standing back, I quietly returned my cock to my trousers, and did up my
zip. Still, nobody spoke. I went to the bathroom for a much needed
piss. Look at my watch: 2.45am. Wife'll be wondering where I got to. Will
probably be sentenced to yet another fucking week of cooking the dinner, to
serve as yet another fucking apology. Great. I suddenly became aware of my
suit being drenched in sweat, too. Another trip to the dry-cleaners at some
point tomorrow, then. As I urinated, I thought about the future, and the
past. All good things, as they say...

When I returned to the main room, everyone looked to be asleep. I went to
Harry, throwing down a bag of the photos and disks I had collected of him
over the weeks. I didn't copy them. Except for a few choice shots for my
private collection, of course: but he needn't know that, and besides, I
would never share them. Not my style. As he would know, if he knew me. A
croaky, hushed voice spoke behind me. It was the deep, docile tones of
Liam. "That was an...experience."

I looked at him. He'd wiped the spunk off his face with his white CKs. "Not
every day you get to fuck Louis, is it?"

He smirked. "No...not that I'd ever really wanted to."

"No. Well...hopefully, I've broadened your horizons?"

His grin turned to a smirk. "Yeah. I'm definitely gonna get a girl to suck
my arse next time."

I chuckled. "Yep. Definitely the bull of the group."

His cock flexed at the compliment, rising off his thigh, but he didn't

I approached him. "At least, when it comes to girls." His smile
disappeared, wondering what I was going to do. I knelt before him. "Just
remembered," I said, "I don't even have a memento to remember the evening
by. Think I'll have these," at which point I began removing his socks from
his feet. Holding them to my nose, I breathed in deeply. "Nice. But...they
need something to make them a *little* more distinctive." Taking one of the
socks, I put it over his cock, like a cotton condom, and started wanking
him once more. "Ugh...please..." He hunched over in torment, but I pushed
him back, and he stayed back, with his legs remaining spread open for
me. "Watch the TV whilst I milk you, Daisy," I advised. The straight porn
was still playing. I saw his eyes flutter, as he took in the girl-on-girl
action playing out in high-definition for him. His moaning was loud, and
pained, but it didn't wake anyone. After about thirty five minutes of
constant, methodical wanking, he came, dribbling the remaining contents of
his balls into the sweaty, fluorescent green sock, and once again hunching
over in exasperation. I extracted the sock, used the other one to wipe up
some of the cold sweat and dried cum on his chest, and put them in a bag in
my pocket, along with his CKs. "They're expensive!" he moaned.

"I'll get you another pair," I replied.

He watched as I retrieved the video camera Harry had placed in a slightly
opened closet at the beginning of the night, putting it in my pocket. He
just pointed at me as I did so, wide-eyed, gulping and whispering, like the
first neanderthal who'd discovered fire, "video."

I nodded slowly, speaking slowly, too. "Yes, Liam. This, video. It record
moving picture. It show you being bitch. You fucked now. Forever." He
remained unmoving as I made my way to the exit, saying on my way out, "I'll
be in touch, Daisy."

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