For Pete's Place

This story takes place in a cumshift world. If you don't understand or can't figure out what that means, I have written an article on the basic world rules. This first chapter doesn't really cover much in the way of the world, but I intend to add significantly more which will. This is also a really long, slow-burning story, and even the chapters are longer than I really want them to be, but I also don't really want to cut anything out. We'll see how this goes.

Thanks to everyone who reads,

-AR2

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I stood awkwardly on Pete's doorstep, debating whether or not I really wanted to knock. I knew he would let me stay there, without a shadow of a doubt. What I didn't know was if our years of friendship meant I could stay, even if only for a while, free of charge, or if he would charge me the same price as everyone else. And if so, would I be willing to pay that price. I raised my hand to knock, took a deep breath, then stopped and lowered my hand again.

I was terrible at...well everything that had to do with being a successful, contributing member of society. I had been kicked out of two colleges and lost countless jobs since graduating high school dead last in my class. My parents had finally disowned me just to save their own checkbooks, not that I blame them. If I didn't do something, and now, I would be sleeping on the streets that very night. If I didn't freeze to death overnight, I'd probably starve later this week. If I didn't starve later this week, I'd die of thirst later this month. I was out of last legs to stand on.

All except Pete. Pete had been my best friend since I really couldn't remember exactly when. And he was a goddamn wizard at everything he did, this guy had the Midas touch if ever anyone did. He played the stock market as a hobby, traded crypto for a joke, and somehow had won four separate lotteries, all on tickets bought for him by other people as jokes. Pete took to his wealth like any sane person would: with eccentricity. His particular eccentricity was his open door policy. He would allow one and only one person at a time into his house to live with him, eat his food, drink his beer, bathe in his tub, shit in his toilet, use his wifi, and much more. He only had one real rule: you were his toy for the duration of your stay. Specifically, sexually, although he promised to demand no more than one orgasm per day out of you, and any more were only at your request. But he could be very demanding about that orgasm and when and where and how you provided it and when and where and how you received it.

Simple terms. At least 11 people had taken him up on the offer at some point or another. Most of them were able to turn their live around under his roof. A few did finally leave out of shame. I was determined not to be one of them. I swallowed at the thought, raising my hand again to knock on the door. I took another deep breath, squeezed my eyes closed and forced my hand forward, putting my own weight behind it to commit fully. I fell completely forward and onto the ground.

There was a brief silence as I registered that I must have fallen through an open door. I rolled over to see Pete standing over me, looking about as surprised as I felt. He recognized me and broke out into a broad smile. "Alex, you son of a bitch, how have you been?" He reached a hand down to help me up. "If I'd known you were coming to visit, I'd have made other plans and prepared something for you."

"Oh, no worries," I replied, taking his hand and pulling myself up. "I, uh...I need to talk to you about a favor, if you've got the time and don't mind." Now that I was here, I knew I had to get it out before I overthought it. Even if he asked the worst, I had to do it for my own survival. It was literally a matter of life and death, and I was not about to be a proud corpse.

"I can't at the moment," he said with genuine sadness. "I have an important errand to go run right now, but please feel free to stick around. If you've got nowhere else to go, you know you're always welcome at my place. Make yourself at home until I get back, it shouldn't be long." And with that, he turned and left. He was out the door before I could reply again. And I was there, in his house, alone, the question still unasked.

With nothing else to do, I found his living room and sat on the couch for a little while, turning on the tv once I found the remote. After an hour of meaningless background noise I wasn't even really watching, I got up and went to the kitchen. I hated to raid his fridge, but knew he wouldn't mind. If he said no, or if I didn't agree to his terms for saying yes, I might not get to eat again or a while, so I figured I might as well fill up while the opportunity was there. He had a leftover pizza, about three-quarters of it, and it had the works on it, so it was basically the whole food pyramid. I figured if there was anything he wouldn't miss, it was this, and if there was anything that would most efficiently get me as far as possible, it was this. I ate about half the pizza myself while I waited, leaving him the last few slices as I had filled myself with the stuff.

Just as I sat back down on the couch and started channel surfing again, Pete finally returned home. "Sorry," he said, before actually seeing me, "that took longer than expected, but I am here now, and ready to catch up with my buddy."

I'm somewhat ashamed to say I dithered more than I should have. I made small talk, caught him up in my life and got caught up on his. But Pete's no idiot, genial as he is. He knew there was something I wanted, or rather needed, to talk to him about, and when the natural conversation died, he asked me what it was. Thank god he asked, because I very well might have left without telling him otherwise.

I came out to him about the full extent of my current position, and he listened solemnly. "I need a place to go, Pete. I hate to ask, but you're all I got." He was quiet for a moment, and I added, "I was hoping our years of friendship would buy me some time without having to...pay your usual cost. But I am ready and willing to pay it if I have to." I surprised myself when I said that last part, as I wasn't entirely sure it was honestly true. I was fully male and I wanted to stay that way. But like I said, I wasn't about to be a proud corpse, even if it meant living a little more feminine.

"I wish I could extend a free ride to you Alex, really I do," my heart sank as he spoke. "But rules are rules, and if I break them even for you, suddenly I have no standing to enforce them with anyone. I don't want to, but I will have to ask you to pay up while you're staying with me. But you can start staying with me tomorrow, because tonight, we're getting drunk enough that a good friend can't reasonably let you go anywhere else!"

Pete went to the door and picked up a bag he had brought back with him from his errand. It was full of groceries and other assorted items. "Somehow, I had a feeling this was the conversation we were going to have, so I took the liberty of stocking up on my way home. Sorry if that meant I took a little longer leaving you alone here."

Among his other talents, Pete was a spectacular cook too. He whipped up what looked to be a very complex dish, almost all of it while talking to me about some of his investments and properties, or going on about various sports events that I hadn't been lucky enough to keep up with. And, just like he promised, we drank much more than we should have that night, enough that it might have surprised any witnesses that neither of us ended up with alcohol poisoning.

I woke up the next morning with a hangover from hell and a crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch. But more importantly, I woke up this morning, and with a safe place to continue waking up indefinitely. For a price maybe, but not an unpayable one. Just an undesirable one. Now I just had to get up on my feet so I could get out of here before payment started taking a permanent toll.

And I wish I could tell you I made the most of that day and got a solid start on getting my life straightened out. But there's a reason I was in the position I was in, and a good chunk of it was stubborn procrastination, laziness, and an inability to not do things that wasted time without putting me any closer to a goal. Hell, I couldn't even set a goal, I just found distraction after distraction and went nowhere.

It didn't help that Pete didn't have a full time job either, since his money mostly just rolled in from investments that I don't even think he knew whether they were smart or just lucky. So we, I and my best friend, spent most of the day drinking beer, shooting the shit, and playing video games. Pete had some top of the line, state-of-the-art rigs that turned his gaming chairs into fully immersive rigs that couldn't be described as anything short of miracles of modern technology. Some of the most fun you can have, digitally speaking, and difficult for anyone to walk away from, let alone someone with my horrible lack of self-control.

And so, at the end of the night, I dreaded when Pete finally said he had his guest room all set up for me. Now I was officially staying at his place, which meant now I officially had to pay. I had known it was coming, and I knew that realistically, it would be some time before I could get back on my feet and out of there, even if absolutely everything went my way. This first official night was unavoidable, but I was still anxious about it and it hit me hard that I had seemingly made every effort not to try to leave as soon as possible.

Pete showed me the guest room, which was a penthouse suite in its own right. It came with a king-sized bed, plenty of closet and dresser space, a huge flatscreen mounted to the wall, a sizable desk with desktop PC affixed, and a ridiculously lavish on-suite bathroom. And a fully stocked goddamn minibar! Except for the room payment, Pete did his best to make sure you absolutely loved your stay at his place. But speaking of payment...

"Mi casa es su casa," Pete said as I marveled at the accommodations. He was sitting at the end of the bed, smiling with glee as I returned to the main part of the bedroom, wonder still painted across my face. "You know the deal Alex, you can stay here as long as you want or need to, and I will make whatever arrangements you want or need me to make to help you get back on your feet. And although I won't ask you for a dime, I do insist on just one simple little form of payment."

The wonder slipped from my face and I set my expression hard. I was determined to survive, and this was the cost of survival. Pete's grin widened as my expression changed, and he reached down and unzipped his pants. My heart pounded in my chest, my pride demanding that I leave, march out into the cold to die with dignity. But I stepped forward, ready to pay Pete's price. He motioned me to the ground in front of him and stood up, sliding his pants down as he did.

A simple blowjob was honestly the best I could have hoped for, and that was luckily all Pete was asking this time. But as his pants slid to the ground and I fell to my knees, I was met with a sight that still somehow surprised me. Pete's dick wasn't impossibly huge but it was still intimidating, at least it was to me. While almost completely soft, his was about as big as mine was hard, which was a slightly disappointing tidbit all by itself.

I brought my hand up to it, wrapping my fingers around it and lifting it up. I don't know what possessed me to do this, I'd have rather had the deed done and over with as quickly and easily as possible without any other details needed, but for some reason, I couldn't help but admire it. Maybe that's not quite the right word, it was more like I was inspecting it. Studying it to see what made it so different from mine, as if I could learn and apply the knowledge somehow. At least, that's the excuse my pride tried to make me believe. I've since come to believe that that's just what you do when giving a blowjob. You get acquainted with the dick you're sucking, and my instinct to do so was a testament to my unclaimed talent at giving head. But that realization didn't come until much later.

In the moment, I simply started to stroke, giving an occasional twist of the wrist and varying the pressure to try to mimic things that had been done to me in some of my favorite blowjobs. Pete's cock started to grow and harden in my hands, welling up to the size of a banana. I won't deny my eyes went wide as I witnessed this. I glanced up at Pete, and he smiled down at me with a wicked grin, the grin of someone who knows they're about to get something they want from someone who doesn't want to give it to them. He put a hand on the top of my head and guided my face toward the monster in front of me. Completely on instinct, my eyes shut, my mouth opened, and my tongue stuck out, ready to guide his cock gently into my mouth.

The immediate taste was actually pretty underwhelming. I might have expected it to taste heavenly, given what certain kinds of porn would have you believe, but I never did accept that as likely to be true. More likely, I would have expected it to taste disgusting, given how almost everyone who had ever described giving a blowjob had said they hated it and only did it for their partners, and those who did claim to enjoy it only said as much because they liked pleasing their partner. In truth, it actually tasted bland, just like normal skin. I'd tasted normal skin plenty, when I'd given girls hickeys or put a wound to my mouth to suck on it.

I let Pete guide my head all the way onto his cock, until I felt it hit the bottom of my throat and I gagged for a second. Pete immediately backed off, quick enough that I didn't need to remove the whole thing from my mouth, but only a fraction of an inch so as much of it as possible was still in there. I blinked my eyes open and glanced up at him, as if expecting that to be it. Or as if I was expecting some kind of praise. Pete just smiled and nodded to me, encouraging me to continue. Encourage is a nice way to say demand, seeing as I didn't have a choice, but he wasn't insistent either.

I closed my lips around his girth and started to suck on it. Pete's hand moved to the top of my head to control my action. He guided my head back and forth in long, slow strokes. I did gag a couple more times, but Pete reacted quicker than I did and pulled back before it became too much for me. He was being almost gentle, as if this was something that had to happen, but the least he could do was be courteous about it. I was somewhat appreciative of that, at least until I realized that if I didn't start to actually pleasure him, it would prolong this blowjob for me in a way I didn't want it to be prolonged.

As if he could sense what I was thinking, or more likely through expert or lucky timing, Pete pulled his cock from my mouth. He continued to guide my head along the length, turning so I was still facing it, and I took the hint to stick my tongue out and lick up and down his cock. My hands had gone to his hips when my mouth took up too much of his cock to be able to stroke, but since he was no longer in my mouth, I brought a hand back to stroke what I wasn't licking at the time. After a minute or so, Pete had me change sides, then after another minute, he slid his cock back into my mouth.

As I returned to actively sucking on the now slobbery thing, and I noticed the taste had changed slightly. It was somewhat salty now, the way a girl's kiss could sometimes be after she swallowed a load of cum. I was surprised to find that even this flavor was not entirely repugnant. I didn't enjoy it mind you, but I could pretty easily tolerate it if I had to, which I did. I glanced up at Pete again and he was still smiling at me, enjoying the sight of his cock being serviced. Since I wanted this to be over with, I didn't return my hand to his hip, but instead tried to continue stimulating what parts of him weren't in my mouth. I pretty easily discovered that between the width of my fist and the depth of my mouth, I could handle just about his entire length, and so I took to gently twisting the base as I worked the other end with my mouth.

Pete grunted his approval, but after a while, he decided it was time for another change of pace. He held my face at the end of his cock with only the head in my mouth. He wrapped his hand around mine and began to stroke with it, showing me how he wanted to jerk me off into his mouth. With his other hand, he rocked my head side-to-side and back-and-forth, teaching me how to end this the way he wanted it to end. I quickly implemented the new technique and Pete encouraged me to increase my pace as he took his hands away and left me to my own devices.

I continued to service his cock exactly as he'd showed me, a twisting stroke of my fist, a rocking roll of my head, a flick of the tongue with the suction, and a slightly increased pace every several seconds. I could feel his cock tensing and pulsing, and I quickly understood what was about to happen. I dreaded it, but was grateful for it to finally be over. I scrunched my eyes closed to prepare myself and sped up to the fastest pace I could maintain in hopes of getting it over with.

And in a few seconds it was, but on Pete's terms. Pete suddenly grabbed my hand and forced his own pace to the stroke, grabbing the top of my head and jerking it back and off his cock. My natural reaction was to open my mouth as his cock was ripped from it, sticking my tongue out in a subconscious effort to continue stimulating the head of his cock. And that's when he finally came. His cum exploded out over my face, a fair amount landing on my tongue and in my mouth, the rest finding its resting place on my cheeks or forehead, or rolling down my nose or into my eyes.

When the cum hit my tongue, I instinctively withdrew it into my mouth and swallowed. I kept my mouth closed as Pete continued to deposit more onto my lips. His ejaculation lasted several seconds, and with my eyes closed, I couldn't help but wonder if this was really all from him, or if he was somehow pranking me. But I could feel every spurt travel through his cock with my hand, which Pete had clamped around his cock with his own hand, and it felt very real to me.

"Stick out your tongue," Pete commanded. It was gentle, almost quiet, like he was reminding me of my lines in a play rather than instructing his plaything. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue again." I swallowed again before licking my lips and obeying. Pete delicately rubbed the head of his cock against the tip of my tongue, depositing the last drop before releasing my hand. I heard him step back, then the rustle of fabric in front of me. I reached up and wiped his spunk out of my eye so I could open it and see what was happening.

Pete had backed up enough to pull his pants back on and was zipping them up currently. He gave a stretch, then turned to me with a smile. Not the sinister smile, the smile of my friend once again. He said, "Great to have you over, Alex. Feel free to stay as long as you need to. Mi casa es su casa." And he left the room like nothing happened. As if he had just finished showing me around. As if I hadn't just sucked him off and wasn't sitting on the floor drenched in his cum.

When he left, I turned to the hand I had used to wipe my eye and considered it. It was covered in cum, and I almost reflexively went to lick it clean. I hesitated though, when I realized Pete was gone and at this point wouldn't know or probably care if his cum was 'wasted' or not and instead wiped the stuff off on my shirt. I brought the hem of my shirt up to wipe the cum out of my other eye, and as much as I could feel off my face. The stuff had not tasted good, and I understood why most people who tasted the stuff complained about it. It was bitter and salty, just as I'd been told it was, and my natural instinct at the flavor was to spit it out and get it off my tongue. Which was intriguing, since my first thought at seeing and feeling it had been to put it in my mouth in the first place. But I assumed that was a result of too much porn conditioning me to think that way.