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A Month in the Heart of the Country
It was that time of your life when you’ve just left school, finished your exams, reached the legal drinking age and feel like you can do anything and be anybody.
I was eighteen years old, skinny, bookish, shy with girls, a bit lonely, constantly horny. I was inhibited, to the point that after physical education in school I always changed under a towel. I didn’t have many friends, and the only thing all my friends had in common is that they were my friends. I hung out with some of the rich guys, some of the weirdos, some of the rebels, some of the hippyish types, and all of them wondered what I saw in the other ones.
So when Chris invited me on a holiday in the country with Steve, Ray, Danny and Peter, I was a bit surprised. The five of them were all among the rich guys. They spent a lot of money on clothes and their taste in music, unlike mine, was dictated by what was fashionable. I was a music geek and I defiantly liked things that were unfashionable. I wasn’t sure why Chris was inviting me until he said, “And we were just thinking, it’d be cool to hang out, you know, spend some time out there and be free and do some drinking, and I thought maybe you’d be interested in coming along, because most of us can’t cook for shit, so…”
That was why they wanted me: to do the cooking. I smiled to myself, holding the phone receiver in my hand. Of course they didn’t want me for my company. But I liked cooking, and I needed practice, and it would be interesting to be the only one out there providing food, and then Chris told me to bring my guitar, so perhaps they also appreciated that I was the only musical one. I told him I’d think about it. I asked my parents if they minded and they said they didn’t, so I emailed Chris to say yes.
Chris picked me up in one of his family’s cars, a big station wagon, one Saturday morning. Besides my guitar, I had a couple of pots and pans, a good kitchen knife and some herbs and spices, because I was under no illusion that the local shop would have much in the way of exotic ingredients.
Chris was an okay driver who thought he was a great driver. He was selfish and shouted a lot at people who got in his way, which was a lot of people because he drove too fast. We criss-crossed the suburbs that morning, picking up all the other guys, and then at last we had a full load and we headed out of the city into the country.
It was a long drive and I had to tolerate Chris’ crappy music selection on the car stereo. All the guys were excited at the prospect of the four weeks ahead. There was a lot of talk about how many girls they were going to pick up and how much drinking they were going to do. I was mostly quiet. I knew better. I suspected that we’d spend most of our time watching DVDs, drinking and getting stoned, and there would be no girls, no sex of any kind, apart from a lot of private masturbation late at night in your own room.
I was wrong about that.
The house was pretty big and a long way away from anywhere. Nobody lived in it, it was owned by Chris’s family and rented out for weddings and events. It had a lot of rooms and the other guys were quick to claim the best ones. I had a small room which was almost entirely filled by an oversized bed. It was as if they had a small room and a big bed left over after they’d done all the others, so they just stuck them together.
Once we’d got settled in, we set off for the local pub. We soon realised that we wouldn’t be making that trip very often, because the local pub was four miles away down dark winding roads. This was depressing, and as we all sat drinking we were more depressed by the knowledge that we were going to have to walk back. There were some attractive women in the pub, but they were all with men who looked like their husbands or boyfriends, and they were all older than us, most of them looking like they were in their late twenties. Steve made a remark about mothers he’d like to fuck and we all had a laugh about that, but when closing time came we got out and tottered home in a gloomy silence.
We woke up the next day, all a bit hungover, and we planned a shopping trip. We went out and bought staples, plus ingredients for dinner, plus enormous quantities of beer. We sat around reading and looking for porn on the internet and playing Wii. Some of us got stoned – not me, I didn’t like smoking.
When evening came round, we realised that our first full day had passed and we’d done precisely none of the cool things we’d come down to do. We had no way of meeting girls short of going to the pub, but the pub was too far away unless we drove, and if we drove one of us had to stay sober, and none of us wanted to stay sober.
Steve said that we had to start thinking of cool things to do, and we all agreed that we would. I would have quite liked to go for walks in the countryside. I liked nature and I was interested in trees and animals and birds, but I knew better than to suggest this. The other guys were all bahis firmaları more confident than me, anyway. I was content to do what they wanted to do. In any case, I was reading a good novel and I didn’t need constant stimulation the way they did.
All the same, by the Thursday of the first week we were going mad with boredom. We’d read most of what we’d brought with us. We’d played most of the games. We’d watched most of the films. The high, exciting time we’d imagined was not panning out.
And so it was, that Thursday night, after dinner, that Steve came out with the suggestion that would ultimately make that month in the country the most memorable and extraordinary month of my life. It wasn’t always the most enjoyable month. Some of it was downright grueling. But we all came away from it changed, me most of all.
It was an innocent enough suggestion to begin with. I had cooked us pasta and we were all feeling content. We had been drinking red wine, which had gone to our heads. We felt like a mafia crew hiding out, we were the guys, we were a unit. My cooking skills had been praised in fake Italian accents.
Steve lit up a joint and passed it around. For once, I had a draw on it. Maybe that’s why what happened happened.
“We should play poker,” he said.
There wasn’t much enthusiasm for this. None of us were much good at cards and we didn’t want to gamble for money.
“Here’s the kicker,” he said. “We’ll have a scale of, like, forfeits. We’ll work out who won the most, and maybe he doesn’t have to do the washing up for a week, or whatever. Next biggest winner doesn’t owe a round for two days. Next biggest winner gets a free drink by the rest. And so on down.”
“What sort of forfeits?” said Peter.
“I dunno,” said Steve.
“I know,” said Danny. “The biggest loser has to do whatever we want.”
There was silence.
“Like what?” said Chris, looking interested.
“Like, anything,” said Danny with an evil grin. “And I mean anything.”
“What if he says no?” I asked.
“Then he has to do all the washing up for the entire rest of the holiday,” said Steve. That was about the worst thing any of us could think of, and we all laughed.
“I’m in,” said Chris.
“Me too,” said Peter.
One by one, we all agreed to Danny’s suggestion. The unspoken fear was of what, precisely, the biggest loser might be required to do – eat a cowpat? Something more disgusting? Danny had the weirdest imagination of us all, but Chris was naturally the one with the highest status. It would probably be he who would enforce the ruling.
We all started to play. None of us were very good, but I was surprised to find that I was one of the better ones. I didn’t win every hand, but I didn’t get cleaned out, either.
We all played conservatively, none of us wanting to end up at the bottom of the list. Chris grumbled about the number of folds that we were making, but Danny merely murmured “Remember, anything we want…” and Chris shut up.
As it got closer to midnight, we were all getting impatient for the game to end and a result to happen. Steve suggested that we call the current hand the last one. Peter was the one keeping track of the score. We all agreed.
When I got my two cards, I was delighted to find that I had a great hand: two tens. The next card was another ten, and with three of a kind I was confident that I could beat the others.
I decided to bet high. If I could shut them out, I could do it. It worked. One by one they sighed and threw in their cards.
Except for Chris. He simply looked impassive, and raised me.
I assumed that he must have a higher pair. The chances of him having three court cards were tiny. I called him.
The next card was a nine. The tension in the room was thick. I raised again, shoving half my chips into the middle, trying not to show how elated I was.
Chris called my raise. He was sweating. Whoever lost now would lose the hand. I felt excited, but I was calm.
The next card was another nine.
I couldn’t believe it. I had a full house, the first one I had ever had. There was only one thing to do.
“All in,” I said, casually pushing the rest of my chips into the middle. Surely, now, Chris had to yield.
He didn’t yield. He simply said “All in,” in a thick voice, and pushed his own chips into the middle of the table.
The final card was a useless two. It was the showdown.
I turned over my cards and I couldn’t stop myself from beaming. “Full house,” I said, laying out my two tens. There was a gasp from the other guys.
Chris stared at them for a moment, then he raised his head and looked at me.
“Four of a kind,” he said quietly, and laid down two nines.
I was stunned. There was a moment of silence, then the other guys exhaled. Peter gave a low whistle of commiseration.
“Good fucking game,” said Steve. Chris gathered all the chips to himself and smiled broadly.
There was silence. We all knew kaçak iddaa that one of us had to be the loser. Now, it was going to come out. I had bet everything I had, and lost it all. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Peter was totting up the wins and losses.
At last he looked at us all.
“The big winner,” he said, “is Chris.” Chris beamed and lit a cigarette.
“The big loser,” Peter added, “is Alex.”
The lads all gave a raucous cheer, and Ray patted my shoulder sympathetically. I hung my head and smiled ruefully. Whatever it was, I wanted it to be over quickly. I assumed it would be something nasty and disgusting. I felt a bit drunk and a bit high and I was surprised to find that although I was not looking forward to whatever it was, I was happy. I was one of the guys. I would take my forfeit like a man.
“Stand up, Alex,” said Chris. I stood up. I had agreed to do whatever they wanted. I was blushing. They were all looking at me; Peter smiling, Steve grinning, Ray with an enigmatic look on his face, Danny looking sleepy and with an evil smirk; Chris with a cool, appraising look.
“So, what’s it to be?” said Peter.
“Lick the toilet bowl!”
“Drink his own piss!” suggested Danny. The others made loud noises of disgust. I looked pleadingly at Chris.
“No, no, no,” said Chris. “I’ve got a better idea.” He waited for silence. We all looked at him expectantly.
“Alex,” he said, “take your clothes off.”
I felt my face go red, and I looked at him uncertainly. The smirk came back to Danny’s face. Ray lit a cigarette and looked at me through the smoke.
“All of them?” said Peter, glancing at Chris.
“All of them,” Chris confirmed.
They were all watching me. I had to obey. What was Chris thinking? Maybe I was going to have to go and streak outside, or something. That wouldn’t be so bad. Blushing, I leaned down and took off my runners and socks. I threw them aside. Then I tugged off my shirt and t-shirt and tossed them onto my chair. I opened my belt, unzipped my cargos and dropped them, then I placed them on the pile of my clothes; and then finally I slid my boxers slowly down over my hips and stepped out of them, leaving them with my other things.
Naked, I straightened up and stood, one leg slightly bent, making myself look back at them, meeting their gaze.
They were all silent. There was a strange tension in the room. I could feel it in their gaze, in the way they were looking at me. I had never been naked in front of them before, but the wine and the pot had given me courage. I felt their eyes on me, looking at my slim body; I was the slightest of us, with narrow hips but curved buttocks that stuck out behind me, a long but narrow cock, and only a very few hairs on my chest.
“Turn around,” Chris said. “Pose for us.”
I was breathing rapidly. I turned around and raised my arms until my hands were behind my head, posing like a model. Now there could be no doubt about it. There was something sexual about the way they were looking at me. I felt hot, and there was a stirring in my groin. God, that was all I needed, to get an erection now.
“Danny?” said Chris behind me. “What do you think?”
“He’s cute,” came Danny’s voice.
“Thank you,” I said softly, turning my head so I could see a little over my shoulder.
“Turn and face us, Alex,” said Chris. I did so, letting them see me, fully nude in the low light of the living room. The guys were sitting at the table, I was standing apart from them, near the fire which was turned off because it was a warm summer night.
“Alex, you have to do whatever we want, you remember that?” said Chris.
“Say it,” he insisted.
“I have to do whatever you want,” I said. “For how long?”
“For as long as we say,” said Chris. “All right? You understand what I’m saying?”
I felt that I was being challenged. I was a little light-headed and my heart was pounding. I had been standing naked in front of my fully-clothed friends for about three or four minutes. Now Chris was extending the forfeit. Now I was being offered a choice of some kind.
“Do you say yes to it?” he said, his eyes shining.
“Yes,” I said seriously. I was beginning to think that I knew where this was going. And I wanted them to tell me what to do.
“Good,” said Chris. “Now, suck Danny’s cock.”
That was it. That was when I truly realised what I was in for. I looked at Danny. He looked much more awake now. He wasn’t smiling any more. He swivelled in his chair to face me, opened his flies and took out his cock, which was half-erect. He began pulling on it.
“Go over and ask him for permission,” said Chris.
Danny watched me as I walked across the carpet to him, my feet bare, and I knelt before him demurely.
“Danny,” I said with a dry mouth, “may I please suck your cock?”
“Yeah,” he said.
I had no idea what to do, so I merely leaned forward and he pushed his kaçak bahis now-erect cock between my lips. I began to lick and suck on it, imagining how I would like this done to me. I had never had a blowjob in my life. I had never even kissed a girl. But now I was going to have to suck my friend’s cock.
That was the first barrier I crossed, going from just one of their friends who happened to be naked to being a fully-fledged cocksucker. It felt extraordinary, scary, intense to be kneeling naked in front of this guy I’d known for years and to be sucking him off. Danny grunted “Ooh, yeah…mmm…that’s good…” and he pushed his cock a little further into my mouth.
It was hard to take all of him. I tried not to let my teeth touch him. I moaned softly as my lips hauled on Danny’s penis. He held my cropped head in his hands and urged himself into me.
I really wanted him to cum. I didn’t know if I was expected to swallow or spit or what, but I accepted my role as giver of oral pleasure and I did the best I could. Danny was getting more and more excited, and he was beginning to move his hips, slowly fucking my mouth. It was incredibly intense. I shut my eyes and moaned again, imagining that I was a girl. They were certainly treating me like one.
“That’s fucking hot,” somebody said. I was moving my body as I sucked on Danny’s cock, my chest rising and falling, the muscles in my shoulders bunching. I was moving my hips as well. I was feeling more sensual than I had ever felt, and the sheer exhibitionism and shamelessness of what I was doing was giving me a hard-on. I knew that the guys could see that my own cock was sticking straight out ahead of me. Was I gay, then? I had never fancied a guy in my life, but to be made to suck my friend off was certainly arousing me now.
Then I felt a pair of hands on my hips, stroking me.
I moaned. Now another of them was touching me. I didn’t know who. I could feel his hands caressing my naked hips and my bottom, and sliding up and down my waist and torso. This raised the stakes.
“Ooh, yeah, baby,” murmured a voice directly behind me. Chris. It was Chris who was touching me more intimately than anyone had touched me before – except possibly for Danny, who had his cock in my mouth. I made a slight involuntary moan of protest. It was going a little fast for me. I wasn’t ready to have somebody else touch me yet, certainly not in the most private parts of my body.
“You have to do whatever we want, Alex,” said Chris softly.
I pulled my mouth off Danny’s cock and turned my head slightly.
“What are you doing?” I gasped. Danny took my head and made me face forwards again, then pushed his cock between my parted lips. I moaned thickly.
“We’re all horny,” said Chris, “and we think you should step up and be a good sport about it.”
I shivered, suddenly scared. Had they planned this? Surely not. What were they thinking of doing to me?
“We didn’t really plan this, Alex,” said Peter from the table. “We invited you along because we like you. But let’s face it, there aren’t enough girls round here, and we’re all horny. So one of us has to help the others out. We talked about it and we agreed it should be you.”
I looked up at Danny, scared. He grinned down at me, grabbed my head and fucked my mouth harder. “MMMMFFF!!” I moaned, alarmed now, as I began to realise what I had got myself into.
Then Chris reached around me and began to pull on my cock. My mouth fell open and I gasped with arousal. My heart was racing. I suddenly saw what I was doing there.
Chris was jerking me off and Danny was trying to fit his cock back into my open mouth. I was shaking with fear and excitement, desperately trying to process what they were saying to me. It seemed inevitable. I couldn’t see any way out of it.
“Please, no,” I gasped as Chris ran his hands around my ass and between the tops of my thighs and stroked my stiff cock. “Please, guys, please, I, I don’t know if I…oooh…” I was naked, on my knees, being caressed by one of my friends while another one was forcing me to suck his cock. I was beginning to get an idea of what they wanted from me.
They wanted me for a sex toy – a fuckable object, a cute boy who they could use as their girl. And in my current state I was in very little position to resist. I was gasping as Chris jerked on my cock and I lowered my head and submitted to Danny putting his own penis back in my mouth. I shut my eyes and sucked on him. I stuck my ass out behind me, giving Chris full access to my most private parts, guessing what he wanted to do, almost wanting him to do it.
“Tell me that you want it, Alex,” Chris muttered behind me. I made a muffled, incoherent moan. I couldn’t talk for Danny’s cock filling my mouth. Danny pulled out of my mouth and jerked himself vigorously, wiping his slippery cock over my face. His pre-cum was smeared over my eyes and forehead.
“Oh god,” I whimpered.
“Tell me that you want it!” said Chris impatiently. “Tell me to make you into my girl!”
The urgency of his need to use me, the imperial command to submit to him, to feminise myself, made me incredibly aroused. I shut my eyes and gasped “Please, Chris…make me into your girl!”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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