Brad (Part II)

The next day, Sunday when I arrived at the big yellow banner room for our youth service, things had definitely changed. Brad, slouched in his usual chair, smiled and said "Sup?" and told me to pull up a chair and sit beside him. When Meg came in she and Brad exchanged a brief look, but she slid into a chair next to Sandy. The two girls whispered and giggled together and it occurred to me that Brad was probably fucking them both. Seeing the girls exchange whispers, Brad looked over at me and confirmed my suspicions when a tiny hint of a smile touched his lips.

I had wondered on my first visit why exactly was he part of the group being so much older than everyone else. I now knew why. He was there to get pussy. About the time Mr. Mick showed up, Brad leaned over and asked, "You wanna maybe hang out some time?"

The following week, I found myself sitting in the living room of Brad's small apartment watching three kids from the group (one dude & two chicks) pass a joint between them on the couch as Brad mixed himself another tequila sunrise in the kitchen. Every few moments I could hear a high pitched whimper coming from Brad's bedroom as Meg got a cock pounded into her by one of Brad's non-churchgoing buddies. Things had definitely taken an unexpected turn. Smile.

I had a number of experiences like that at Brad's apartment over the next few weeks until one particular night. The night everything changed. That night, as on previous occasions had started out with several people at the apartment, partying. As a general rule, the kids from church didn't drink but limited their party fun to getting high (they couldn't get away with going home drunk but they could easily pull off going home high.) By the way, Brad didn't get them high, they came over with baggies of weed they'd gotten at school. He didn't corrupt them. They were simply party buddies. That night however, one chick had decided she wanted to try Brad's favorite drink, tequila and orange juice. I can't remember her name, but (for the sake of the story) I'll call her Angel. Angel was quite the piece of work. She was only fifteen years old but was constantly trying to hang all over Brad whenever she came over. She was friends with Meg and Sandy, who both got Brad's cock on occasion, and it was driving her absolutely nuts that he wouldn't give it to her. In our state, seventeen was the legal age of consent, so (even though he wanted to) Brad would never make a move on her.
Angel ended up getting pretty shit faced that night and was, as usual, all over Brad. At one point she was even sitting on his lap, feeling his dick through his pants, while she attempted to coax him into making out with her. Everyone in the group was used to Angel's game and simply laughed it off. Although I was about half wasted, I noticed during the course of the evening that Brad wasn't laughing anymore. Angel was getting him hot. I was making myself a drink in the kitchen when Brad came in and squeezing the half hard bone in his pants whispered to me, "Man, I wanna fuck that little tease." I reminded him that she was serious jail bait and he hesitated for a moment before saying, "You think she'd tell anyone?" Realizing that he was actually considering it, I shot back, "Dude, I think she'd tell EVERYONE." He contemplated that for a moment, casually fondling the lump in his jeans, then sighed, "Yeah, you're probably right."
I'd finished mixing my drink and took a sip as he added, "Maybe she'd give me head."
I looked down and noticed that the lump of dick in his jeans was getting bigger. When I glanced back up he was looking directly at me. I quickly said, "You can't do ANYTHING with her, bro. I mean anything." He simply stared at me for a moment like something had suddenly clicked in his brain then he said, "Maybe you'd give me head." Every muscle in my body locked as a blast of panic hit me. I felt my face getting hot and I hesitated just a second too long before turning away as my mouth said, "Yeah, right."

I should interject something here. I had come out of the closet to myself at that point but hadn't come out to my family or friends yet. I was wrestling with the moral issues of being gay at that time, having been raised in a very strict religious environment, and wasn't ready for anyone to know that I was 'considering' being gay. Even though Brad certainly wasn't a model young Christian, the idea of someone from church knowing that I liked to play around with other dudes was my worst fear. The hesitation in my response had given me away and a smile spread across Brad's face. My head was spinning trying to figure out how to get myself out of the situation, when he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was behind him then quietly said, "You like to get freaky?" I'd been expecting him to make some kind of 'queer' remark, so his question caught me off guard. I wasn't sure if he was baiting me, wanting me to admit I was queer so he could broadcast it or if he liked to 'get freaky' himself. When I glanced over at him, he was looking down at my crotch then raised his eyes to meet mine and added, "I can get into it sometimes." Stammering a little, I said, "What do you get into?" He glanced over his shoulder again, then dropped his eyes to my crotch for a second before saying, "I don't know, maybe sucking a little dick now and then." He gave a small, very wicked smile, then added, "What about you?" Although I was scared shitless, I answered, "I'm cool with that." The smile returned to his face and he looked at me for a long moment then said, "Fuck Angel. Fuckin' little jail bait prick tease. You wanna stay for a while tonight and hang out?" Recognizing the proposition, I hesitated for a couple seconds then answered, "If you want to." In a move that surprised me, he eased the glass from my hand and took a sip of my drink, then returned it to me and said, "Yeah, why not." Looking down at my drink, he grimaced and added, "Damn, you mix that shit strong. "
Chuckling, he turned and left the kitchen. I was still suffering from muscle lock and simply stood there wondering if I'd just made a seriously bad mistake. From the living room, I heard Brad say, "Get out of my chair, wench." As I took a swig of my drink, my thoughts drifted to the lump in Brad's pants and getting to touch it. Yeah, sure, I'd hang out. Smile.

A couple hours passed before Sandy (the giggly one,) announced it was time to head home. Within fifteen minutes everyone had piled into her car and left (including Angel, who'd tried her best to coax Brad into letting her stay and hang out.) I don't think I've ever experienced a more nervous moment as those first few minutes that Brad and I were alone together in his apartment that night. If I hadn't been about half wasted, I would've lost my nerve and left. Definitely.

Not sure what to do or how to make the first move, I started gathering glasses in the living room to take into the kitchen. Brad, walking in with a fresh drink in his hand, said, "Man, don't bother with that shit. I'll clean up tomorrow." As I sat down on the couch, he took a long swig of his drink then belched and said, "I gotta go take a piss. I'll be back." When he returned, several minutes later, he was carrying a stack of worn magazines, mostly Playboys. Handing them to me as he sat down, he said, "Wanna check a few of these out?" We looked through the mags for maybe twenty minutes making comments on different pics, when he leaned back on the couch squeezed the stiff bone bulging in his pants and said, "Man, I've got a hard on from hell."

I glanced down at it and chuckled nervously as I watched him unzip his jeans and wrestle it out through his fly. It looked about six inches long, was pretty thick at the head and tapered slightly towards the base. He squeezed it hard by the base and slowly slid his fingers up its length forcing a shiny drop of precum to form at the head. Smearing it around with his index finger, he said, "You horny?" Sitting back against the couch so he could see I had a serious bone in my jeans, I stammered a little, "Yeah." Without a moment's hesitation, he reached over to feel my dick. Chuckling while he squeezed it, he said, "You got a hard on from hell, too." I chuckled and said "yeah" as he began fumbling with my zipper. He encountered some difficulties trying to free my dick so I took over and pulled it out through the fly. He immediately put his hand on it and stroked it for a moment before, without saying a word, leaned over and started sucking it for me. His mouth felt incredible and the idea that I had a dude from church sucking my dick was almost more than I could stand. I couldn't even begin to describe how turned on I was.
His mouth bobbed on my bone for several minutes then he pulled free and stroked it with his hand for a few moments, stopping to suck the precum off my head several times before sitting back to stroke his own a little. Seriously horned up, his voice was low and thick as he looked at my stiff bone and said, "You got a nice dick." I was anxious to get my mouth on his and returned the compliment before leaning over to get a taste of the precum that was streaming down his head. He let out a low groan as my mouth slid down on his raging stiff bone and it wasn't long before he said, "Let's go in the bedroom."

A couple minutes later we were undressing in his room. He had a great body. Although we were about the same height, he had a bigger build and outweighed me by fifteen or twenty pounds. His body wasn't incredibly cut or anything, he didn't work out but it was very solid and didn't have an ounce of fat on it anywhere. Although I was a little nervous about being rather inexperienced in bed, Brad didn't seem to notice or didn't care and it wasn't long before we were naked and he was coaxing me into a position that allowed us to suck each other. He wasn't at all self-conscious about touching another dude's body and explored my ass with his fingers while he ate my horny cock. His bone was streaming precum into my mouth as I pumped it and when I followed his lead and attempted to slide my fingers along the groove of his ass he raised one leg off the bed to make it easier for me to play with his asshole.

For some reason Brad and I seemed to just click in bed from the very beginning. I couldn't begin to count the number of times he took me to the very edge of climax that night then would pull back just in time to keep me from shooting. I know this will probably sound crazy but he could take me to a point where I'd actually cum a little without nutting my entire load. It was amazing and one of the reasons I fell so fuckin' hard for him. That's also the main reason on that night when he asked, "You like it up the ass?" I said, "Yeah." With my legs over his shoulders, Brad fucked my ass harder than I've ever been fucked in my entire life. To top it off, as he pounded his cock into me, a filthy string of talk poured from his mouth, "Yeah, you're my little bitch. Gotta give my little bitch a good fucking. Like that hard cock? Yeah come on, tell me how bad you need cock." Damn! I fuckin' came all over myself before he even got close to shooting his own load. By the time he finally came, I was jacking my cum covered bone and close to my second nut. I probably shouldn't tell you this but he fucked me bareback that night and fuckin' filled my ass with cum.

Afterwards, stretched out beside me on the bed while fondling his softening dick, he chuckled to himself. When I asked what he was thinking about, he smiled and said, "I was just thinking about Mick." Turning to me, he grinned and added, "He'd freak if he knew you and me just finished ass fucking." That thought snapped me out of the afterglow I'd been experiencing, and (as horrible as this sounds) I thought of my mom. I had been wrestling with the idea of telling her I was gay, and my head began to swim a little as the weight of all that 'stuff ' came rushing back to me. It must have been apparent on my face, because Brad asked, "What's wrong?" I shrugged, "Nothing." He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Mr. Mick? Don't worry, I'd never say anything to him." Trying to shake the mood that had dropped over me, I smiled and said, "I know. He'd really freak, though, wouldn't he?" Smiling, Brad chuckled, "Sometimes I think he could use a good ass fucking." I laughed at that as Brad grinned and climbed off the bed, announcing he needed to take a piss then paused to thrust into the air like he was fucking and said, "Yeah, I could give it to him." His half hard bone flopped up and down as he gripped invisible hips and fucked the imaginary ass in front of him. He tossed out several loud groans and whimpered, "Oh yeah, Mick. Your little virgin ass is so tight. I've needed this for so long. Oh, baby." I was laughing my ass off when he finally stopped and left the room, grinning, to thump down the hall towards the bathroom. I was hooked. Smile.

Brad (Part I)

Less than a month after I graduated from high school, my parents separated. Even though growing up I occasionally witnessed fights between them, it was still a real shock the day I came home to find that my mom had moved out. I learned some time later that she'd simply been waiting for the day that her last child was out of school and grown to pack her bags and leave. She didn't waste any time.

When my mom left my father, she also left the church that our family had attended for my entire life and joined a small Baptist church on the other side of town. Although she wasn't a religious zealot or anything, like my father, she did like to attend regular Sunday services.
Those first few months alone were pretty difficult for my mom, so when she asked me to go with her to the new church even though I hadn't been to church in a couple years, well what could I do? It was my mom.

As a side note, I went a little wild during my senior year in high school, partying, and often staying out all night with my best friend, KC. Not only were we partying but during the final few months prior to graduation, I had also started sucking his dick. I think my mom somehow sensed that there was something going on between KC and me, which I have always suspected, is the real reason she asked me to attend church with her. Smile.

When I say the church was small, that's actually overstating it. It wasn't small, it was tiny. There were only around twenty or thirty families in the entire congregation and most them were well into their golden years. When I finally agreed to go with her, mom was thrilled and said, "They have a wonderful youth group." The youth group turned out to be comprised of around a dozen or so kids, between the ages of sixteen and nineteen (and mostly chicks) who were led by a young, but rather dull, youth pastor by the name of Mr. Mick, and his equally dull wife, Ms. Janine. I wanted to die. Smile.

During my first Sunday visit, I was ushered into the small room (in the basement) where the group met each week, which had a big, yellow, plastic banner with the words 'Youth for Christ' in large block letters hung on one wall and introduced by a beaming Mr. Mick to my fellow 'youths.' They looked about as thrilled as I felt. The only person who really made a lasting impression on me that day was an older dude who sat, slouched on a chair, in a far corner. He looked to be in his early twenties, had a head full of unruly, wavy brown hair, dark eyes, a solid build, and struck me as someone who'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world at that moment than sitting in that room. When Mr. Mick pointed a finger at him and told me his name, the dude half raised one hand, and, in a rather bored tone, said, "Howdy."His name was Brad.

That first Sunday goes down in my book, to this day, as the single most boring couple hours of my entire life. When I was finally free of that drab little group of people, I had a serious need to go someplace and listen to loud, Satan inspired, heavy metal. Smile.

I spent the entire week that followed trying to come up with a way out of returning to that church. To my absolute horror, at some point during the previous Sunday's services, my mom had noticed several girls making eyes at me. She was thrilled and couldn't wait for next Sunday to arrive. I began looking for painless ways to kill myself. Smile.

When I walked into the little room with the big, yellow, plastic banner that Sunday, I was gritting my teeth. They were all there again, looking bored and disinterested as they waited for Mr. Mick to arrive and the only person who even acknowledged me was a chick named Sandy. She was eighteen years old (same age as me) and the only 'youth' in the group who was upbeat, outgoing, and openly friendly. She talked very fast, giggled a lot, and I ended up sitting next to her. Brad slouched in the same chair as before, in the same corner, didn't say 'howdy' that day, but gave me a brief look that fell somewhere between sizing me up and checking me out. It wasn't sexual but struck me more as his taking a quick mental inventory of what equipment I had brought with me to the game. It suddenly occurred to me, I was the visiting team. The competition. I was contemplating that thought when Mr. Mick and Ms. Janine arrived, several minutes later. After our little youth service, Mr. Mick brought up the subject of organizing a car wash for the following weekend, to help raise money for some sort of teen outing for the group. Oh, joy. Smile.

Sure enough, despite having attempted to get out of it, the following Saturday found me in the church parking lot, holding a large, wet sponge, waiting for the kids who were standing along the street, holding up signs that announced our car wash, to wave down another victim. During a playful water fight, the signs had accidentally been hit with the hose and were quickly becoming illegible, so Mr. Mick asked Brad and a chick named Meg to go inside and make new ones. When a large pickup with a topper pulled in for a quick wash, Mr. Mick, beaming as always, looked at me and said, "Run and get Brad and Meg. We're gonna need their help with this one! "He was just too damned cheerful. Glad to be free of my sponge for a few minutes, I crossed the parking lot and slipped into the church through a side entrance. It was completely empty (and quiet) as I passed through the rear lobby and hit the stairs. Reaching the basement, I walked down the narrow hallway, which had doors leading to various Sunday school classrooms along each side, until I reached the big yellow banner room. The door was closed, but the light was on, so I didn't think twice before turning the knob. Boy, did I get a surprise.

There was a large folding table at the front of the room, with several pieces of poster board and a number of markers on it and, on the floor beside it, Brad was fucking Meg. His pants were pushed down just enough to show his ass, and Meg's skinny little legs were sticking out on either side of him (she was only around seventeen years old,) bouncing in the air as Brad humped his bone into her. Damn! My eyes locked on his ass, pumping back and forth, for a split second before his head spun around and he growled, "Man... get the fuck outta here."

Shocked, I stammered "sorry" and quickly backed out of the room and closed the door. Standing in the hallway, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't return to the parking lot without them so I walked halfway down the hall and leaned against the wall to wait. It was only a couple minutes before the door opened and Brad stepped into the hallway looking for me. Coming down the hall to join me, with his hands jammed into his pants pockets, I couldn't help but notice the hard lump of dick standing up in his jeans. Meg remained out of sight as he approached me, trying to act calm and casual, smiled a rather conspiratorial smile and said, "You caught me gettin' a little action." Smile broadening, he motioned towards the room with his head and quickly added, "You wanna get in on it?" Terrified that Mr. Mick would show up to see what was taking so long, I stammered, "No, that's okay." Glancing over my shoulder at the stairs for a moment, I added, "They sent me to get you guys." The smiled disappeared from his face and a brief look of fear flashed across it for a second before he said, "Yeah. We should probably get back." He looked me dead in the eyes for a moment, then stammered a little himself as he said, "You're not gonna say anything... are you?" I quickly shook my head and answered, "no." A look of relief swept over his face as he began backing down the hall and said, "Thanks." Nodding towards the stairs, he added, "Go ahead. We'll be there in a minute. "He started to turn, then stopped and said, "Uh, sorry about what I said earlier when you came in."

Before turning to continue down the hall, I saw his eyes drop to look at my crotch for a split second, then he turned and quickly disappeared into the room. At that point, I got the hell out of there. Since this is getting pretty long, I'm going to break it down. Consider this the end of two parts. Smile.