Chapter 13: Chapter 13
The groan that ripped from Chris’s throat was a raw, unfamiliar thing. Scott’s tongue, broad and relentless, was lapping at a part of him that had only ever been functional, private. The sensation was a lightning bolt of shocking, degrading pleasure, straight up his spine. His hands, which had been gripping Kevin’s hips, now clenched the boy’s soft flesh, seeking an anchor.
“Fuck, Scott,” Chris gasped, breaking his deep, throat-stuffing kiss with Kevin.
Kevin just moaned around the empty space Chris's tongue had left, his own hips pushing back against Jermaine’s relentless pace. He loved this. He loved the look of stunned, helpless pleasure on Chris’s face, the way this big, confident man was coming undone over something so filthy. It was a pleasure Kevin looked forward to delivering himself one day.
“That’s it, big man,” Scott muttered, his voice muffled against Chris’s cleft. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin of Chris’s inner thighs as his tongue dove deeper, spearing into the tight, clenching ring of muscle. “Just let it happen. Your hole tastes fucking perfect.”
Chris’s head fell back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Kevin’s. His own cock, hard and leaking, jerked against Kevin’s stomach. The dual sensation of kissing Kevin’s beautiful lips while he was being fucked blind by Jermaine, and having his own ass eaten open by Scott was short-circuiting his brain. Every push of his hips backwards was met with a push of Scott’s tongue from behind, a perfect, obscene rhythm.
“You next,” Scott grunted, slapping Chris’s ass cheek lightly. Chris knelt up and guided his leaking cock in to Kevin's waiting mouth as Scott moved with a predator’s grace, positioning himself behind Jermaine, who was still pounding into Kevin’s plump, yielding ass.
“Keep that sweet ass still for me, boy,” Jermaine growled at Kevin, driving in deeper to emphasize his point. Kevin cried out, a muffled, guttural sound around Chris’s shaft, his body jolting forward.
Scott didn’t hesitate. He spread Jermaine’s muscular cheeks and buried his face between them, his tongue immediately seeking out Jermaine’s hole with the same fervor he’d shown Chris. The room was a symphony of wet, slapping sounds, grunts, and choked, pleasurable moans.
Chris, now with only Kevin’s mouth to focus on, fell into a trance. He cradled Kevin’s head, not forcing, but guiding, watching in rapt fascination as his thick length disappeared between the boy’s lips, down into that impossibly deep throat. Kevin’s eyes, wide and glazed, stared up at him, full of a devotion that was almost religious in its intensity.
“You take it so good,” Chris rasped, his thrusts into that warm, tight channel becoming more rhythmic, more possessive. “Such a perfect fucking mouth for my cock.”
Then the heat at his back shifted. Jermaine, sated from Scott’s ministrations, swapped places. Chris felt large, strong hands on his hips, holding him still. He knew what was coming, a fresh wave of tense anticipation coiling in his gut.
“Relax for me, Chris,” Jermaine’s voice was a low rumble against his spine.
The first touch of Jermaine’s tongue was different from Scott’s—softer, more probing, yet just as intent. It licked a broad, slow stripe over his freshly violated hole, and Chris shuddered violently, his hips stuttering their thrust into Kevin’s face.
“Jesus Christ,” he whimpered.
Kevin reached up, his hands finding Chris’s, their fingers intertwining. He squeezed, a silent encouragement, his eyes telling Chris it was okay to fall apart. As Jermaine’s tongue began to fuck into him with slow, precise strokes, Chris lost all control. He fucked Kevin’s throat in earnest now, a steady, deep, pounding rhythm. Pre-cum slicked Kevin’s lips, making a mess of his scruffy beard.
Scott, now free, lined his own cock up with Kevin’s stretched, wet entrance. He didn’t wait, pushing in alongside Jermaine’s fading presence, filling Kevin completely, making the boy’s eyes roll back in his head. Kevin was now the nexus, the center of it all—his throat being ruthlessly used, his ass stuffed full, his body a playground for their pleasure and his own.
Chris was lost in the feeling of Jermaine’s mouth working his ass, the tongue breaching him, making him open up in ways he never thought possible. It was filthy. It was exquisite. Every flick and thrust of that tongue sent jolts of pleasure so sharp they felt like pain, melting the last of his resistance. He was just a body, a collection of raw nerves, being played to a screaming pitch.
The pressure built at the base of his spine, a tight, hot coil fed by the relentless friction in Kevin’s throat and the shocking intimacy of Jermaine’s tongue spearing into him. It wasn't like any orgasm he’d ever known. This was a total systems overload, a complete surrender that shattered his control into a million glittering pieces. His release erupted in thick, pulsing ropes down Kevin’s throat, a guttural roar tearing from his lungs as his body seized, every muscle locking before going completely limp.
He collapsed onto the soft rug on the floor, chest heaving, staring sightlessly at the delicate ceiling rose. The world was a distant, buzzing hum.
Kevin moved with a fluid grace that belied his own overwhelmed state, shifting to lay atop Chris, his soft, warm weight a grounding comfort. He positioned himself facing the ceiling, his head resting on Chris's shoulder, creating a perfect tableau for Jermaine, who knelt over them both, his heavy cock sliding past Kevin’s lips without ceremony.
Chris’s arms wrapped around Kevin, holding him tight as Scott re-entered Kevin’s well-used hole with a single, deep thrust. He let the sensations flow through them both—the rhythmic bounce of Kevin’s body, the wet, gagging sounds from above, the low, possessive grunts of the men using him. He felt the moment Scott’s rhythm broke, a final, brutal drive followed by a hot flood deep inside Kevin. Jermaine’s climax came seconds later, a choked curse as he emptied himself down Kevin’s throat.
The living room fell quiet, save for their ragged breathing. They cleaned up with a quiet efficiency, a familiar post-script to their intensity. As they pulled on their jeans, Scott grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, big man. The rim job. Honestly, what did you think?"
Chris paused, the memory of that degrading, exquisite violation flashing behind his eyes. He looked at Kevin, who was watching him with a soft, knowing smile. "It was... a lot," Chris started, his voice rough. "Felt like you were rewiring my fucking brain through my ass." He shook his head, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. "It was awesome. For the odd occasion." He laughed.
They ordered pizza and cracked open beers, the atmosphere shifting into one of easy camaraderie. Juan and Bashir reappeared, their skin flushed and eyes bright, seamlessly rejoining their partners on the large, worn sofa. They ate, the conversation meandering from work to music, the easy banter a comfortable blanket around them. An hour later, with full stomachs and empty boxes, the group packed their things, leaving Chris and Kevin alone in the suddenly quiet house.
Later, as they prepared for bed, Chris’s phone buzzed. He read the message from Dave, a jolt of adrenaline mixing with his fatigue. "The central team are hyped, but they want to meet you both. They want to come by on Thursday next week at 3pm. Just under a week." He showed the screen to Kevin, who chewed his lip, a nervous excitement in his eyes. They were on the precipice of something real.
The weekend passed in a pleasant, productive haze. Kevin assisted Chris with the electrical runs for the new gym renovation, the sauna and kitchenette requiring careful planning. He held wires, fetched tools, and watched Chris’s capable hands with a focused intensity. Up in the loft bathroom, with the freestanding bath positioned under the skylight, Chris showed him how to properly wire a light switch once, explaining the flow of the current.
"Your turn," Chris said, handing him the tools.
Kevin’s brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth. He mimicked Chris’s movements, connecting the wires with a surprising deftness. He did the next one without help, and the next two after that, each connection clean and secure.
On the last switch, Chris looked at him, his expression serious. "This is the final test. You mustn't be distracted by anything."
As Kevin began, Chris moved behind him, his breath warm on Kevin's neck. He nibbled the soft skin of his earlobe, then pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his throat. Kevin’s hands didn't falter. Chris cupped his meaty chest through his t-shirt, thumbing his hardening nipples. Kevin’s screwdriver turned steadily, the connection tightening.
"What does a guy have to do to distract you?" Chris murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Fuck you right here?"
With a final, confident twist, Kevin finished. He set the tools down deliberately, turned, and kissed Chris firmly on the lips. "You'll have to try harder than that," he said, a heavy dose of sass in his tone before walking away, leaving Chris smiling after him.
The following days dissolved into a comfortable rhythm of work and anticipation. Chris drove them to a sprawling shopping mall on Tuesday, its cavernous interior buzzing with a life Kevin had only ever observed from a distance. He clung to Chris’s arm, his eyes wide at the sheer volume of people and things. “It’s so loud,” he mumbled, pressing closer.
“You get used to it,” Chris said, guiding him toward a department store. He needed new work boots, but his real objective was the bank of fitting rooms at the back. He selected a pair of jeans for Kevin, too, a preposterous size too small. “Let’s see how these fit.”
Inside the fluorescent-lit cubicle, the world shrunk to the scent of new denim and their own quickening breath. Chris pinned Kevin against the mirror, his hand clamping over Kevin’s mouth to stifle the noise as he unbuckled his own jeans. The corduroys pooled around Kevin’s ankles, and Chris spat into his palm, slicking his cock before pressing the fat head against Kevin’s tight hole. “Gotta be quiet, darling,” he growled, and pushed in with a single, relentless thrust.
Kevin’s body seized, a high-pitched gasp escaping through Chris’s fingers. Chris fucked him in short, brutal strokes, the metal hooks on the door rattling with each impact. The curtain whisked aside. A middle-aged man in a manager’s vest stared, his face a mask of shock that melted into lurid fascination. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, but his eyes were glued to the point where their bodies joined.
“Show’s over, mate,” Chris grunted, not stopping his rhythm.
“Can I… can I just…” the manager stammered, his hand moving to the bulge in his trousers. “Can I watch? Just for a minute.”
Chris looked down at Kevin, whose eyes were clenched shut, a tear of overwhelmed pleasure tracing his temple. “Yeah, alright. But don’t touch anything.” The man nodded frantically, unzipping his fly as Chris resumed his pounding, his own orgasm building fast. When he came, it was with a deep, guttural groan, pumping his load deep into Kevin’s ass. He pulled out, his semen already beginning to leak out. “Your turn,” Chris said to the manager, and gestured to the glistening mess.
The man didn’t need telling twice. He stepped forward, his own cock in hand, and watched, mesmerized, as Chris used his fingers to push his own cum back into Kevin’s stretched hole before fucking it in with two quick, messy thrusts. The manager groaned and spent his load onto the patterned carpet, breathless. Chris pulled Kevin’s jeans up, his cum still inside him. “Thanks for the privacy,” Chris said politely, and led a dazed Kevin out.
Wednesday brought the quiet of a wooded hiking trail. Sunlight dappled through the canopy as Chris found a secluded thicket off the path, muffled by ferns and the distant chatter of birds. He bent Kevin over a fallen log, the moss cool against his belly. This time was slower, more deliberate. Chris lubed himself properly and entered Kevin with a smooth, deep glide, setting a rhythm that was almost tender.
“I see you two!” a voice barked. A park ranger, his face set in lines of stern authority, pushed through the foliage. “This is a public space, you can’t—” His lecture died in his throat as he got a clear view. Kevin’s ass, pink and puffy from the fucking, his hole stretched wide around Chris’s thick cock. The ranger’s anger evaporated, replaced by a raw hunger. “Christ,” he breathed. “Look at that. Look at those lips.”
He dropped to his knees, his uniform trousers scraping the dirt. “I haven’t seen one that pretty in years. Mind if I…?” Chris, amused, shrugged. “Knock yourself out.” The ranger’s tongue was expert, lapping at Kevin’s creaming hole, delving deep to taste Chris inside him. He made a sound of genuine appreciation. “You’re a creamer? Fuck me, so am I.” To prove it, he stood, turned around, and dropped his own trousers, revealing an asshole that was indeed even puffier and more significantly gaped than Kevin’s. He worked two fingers into it with practiced ease as Chris let Kevin turn and take his cock into his mouth.
The ranger went back to work with his tongue, and within minutes, Kevin was shuddering, a thick, clear cream dripping from his hole onto the ranger’s chin. “Outstanding,” the ranger muttered, wiping his face and standing up. He left without another word, leaving them in the sudden silence of the woods.
Thursday was Kevin’s choice: a petting zoo on the edge of town. He giggled as goats nibbled his fingers, his earlier anxieties soothed by the simple animals. Behind the main barn, surrounded by the smell of hay and manure, Chris backed him against the warm wood. “Open up,” he murmured, and Kevin did, taking the head of Chris’s cock between his lips. Chris thrust gently into his mouth, his hand stroking Kevin’s hair.
A crunch of gravel made Chris look up. A muscled farmhand with ginger hair and thick forearms leaned against the corner of the barn, openly jerking his substantial cock. “Nice,” the man said, his voice a low rumble.
“We don’t play with others,” Chris stated, his hips still moving.
“Didn’t ask to play,” the farmhand replied. “Just like the view. Mind… mind shooting your load on my dick? I’ll finish myself after.”
Chris considered it, then nodded. “Alright.” When he was close, he pulled from Kevin’s mouth and walked over, stroking himself fast. He came in thick, hot streaks across the man’s fist and cock. The farmhand grunted, “Cheers,” and immediately used Chris’s semen as lube, working himself to a quick, noisy orgasm that splattered onto the dusty ground.
Now, on Thursday afternoon, they stood in the freshly vacuumed living room. Kevin wore a stiff new polo shirt, Chris a button-down that strained across his shoulders. At exactly 3 PM, a plain sedan pulled up. A man in unremarkable trousers and a jacket got out. He looked like a kindly accountant.
The doorbell chimed. Chris answered. “John Huntingdon,” the man said, smiling a simple, warm smile. “Lovely to finally meet you both.”
They invited him in. John Huntingdon was a soft-looking man, his paunch comfortably resting over his belt, a neatly trimmed grey beard framing rosy, genial cheeks. His clothes were muted—a beige jumper over a checked shirt, brown trousers—and he carried a worn leather satchel that seemed part of him. “Can we get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?” Chris offered, guiding him from the hallway. “Oh, no thank you, I’m quite alright,” John declined kindly, his voice a warm, steady rumble.
They settled in the living room, the same space that had witnessed so much raw intimacy just days before. Now it felt like a boardroom. John placed his satchel on the coffee table, the leather creaking as he unbuckled it. “Thank you both for considering letting the organisation make use of the property and your services,” he began, his hands resting on the bag. “I’d like to take you through some information and details, but there is a need for confidentiality from the outset.”
He withdrew two crisp documents, sliding one toward each of them. “These are lifetime NDAs. Simply put, whatever you hear here, whatever you learn about the organisation, is not to be shared beyond the agreed boundaries set out in this document.” Chris picked his up, his engineer’s eyes scanning the legalese. Kevin just stared at his, the dense text a blur, feeling completely out of his depth. Chris skimmed the paragraphs, finding no obvious red flags, no hidden traps he could discern at a glance. “Seems standard,” he muttered, and signed his name with a quick scratch. He nudged Kevin, who picked up the pen and added his own clumsy signature on his own document in the same space Chris had used.
John’s smile was bright and immediate, transforming his gentle face. “Excellent. With that out of the way, welcome to the preliminary stages with Card 6.” He let the name hang in the air. “It’s centuries old, established to help men and their boys have safe spaces to practice their lifestyles. Given the hypersexual nature of our bonds, which runs rather aggressively against society’s standards, we’ve always found it necessary to remain secret.” He leaned forward slightly. “The reason we don’t use the name openly is because, originally, the boys were often forced into arrangements with men. It wasn’t until it was discovered that men and boys would connect naturally, for the most part—like you two, with a little help from Dave—that those practices stopped. But some still remember the scandal that leaked decades ago.”
“Help from Dave?” Chris interrupted, his brow furrowing.
John gave him a piercing look that seemed out of place on his friendly features. “Who set you up with Judy? Who suggested you move in here after he’d met Kevin?” He let the questions sink in. “Dave knows a lot more than you might think.”
“That sneaky cunt,” Chris barked, but he was laughing, a sound of pure admiration.
“Quite,” John said, a sly smile playing on his lips. “We are an international organisation, privately funded to a rather high level. Some pay membership, but it’s a sliding scale. No offense, but the two of you will likely never get close to needing to pay.” He steepled his fingers. “The society is for everyone who is drawn to the coupling of man and boy, as long as they respect the pairing. No abuse or misuse of boys by men, and no control or manipulation of men by boys.”
“Hear that?” Chris said, turning to Kevin with a mock-stern expression. “You’re not allowed to manipulate me into sex anymore.”
Kevin’s reply was immediate, a flash of the sass he’d discovered in himself. “Won’t you have to prove it first?”
They all chuckled, the tension easing for a moment. Then John’s expression softened into something more serious, more intent. “Now, the next part of the interview is rather unusual, although maybe less so given your recent experiences with Scott and Jermaine.” He looked directly at Kevin, his gaze steady and unnervingly calm. “Kevin, I’d like you to suck my dick, please.”