House Hunting

Peter was not looking forward to visiting the open houses. His boyfriend, Frank, had given him the task of visiting them first on Saturday so that they could whittle down the ones that wouldn't work for them. Which was all fine, but Frank was very picky and Peter wasn't sure if he'd be able to choose the right houses. He figured that they would just be doing this all over again with Frank, and Peter would have wasted a perfectly good afternoon when he could be out doing, I don't know what -- getting drunk and having fun?

Peter was also not looking forward to the open houses because he didn't love their real estate agent, Magda. Magda was tall, brutally efficient, and she was very honest about her feelings. She said that one house that they wanted to look at "looked like shit," and another house, "was probably owned by a criminal. I'm only guessing." She didn't really like whatever Peter had to say because she knew the money was coming from Frank, and she didn't really like the idea of -- as she said - "babysitting" Peter. That's what she literally said: "I'm going to babysit Peter to the open houses."

And worst of all -- she was going to have to drive Peter to the open houses. Frank had his car this week for work, and the other one was in the shop, and so she'd have to drive Peter around all day. This felt particularly humiliating.

But Peter was trying to be a good boyfriend lately. So, when Frank came into the kitchen that morning as Peter made coffee, Frank's meaty chest and big thighs squeezed into one of his Italian suits, and gave Peter a goodbye kiss, Peter told him, "Don't worry, I'll be a good boy. I'll get a full list going. Magda's coming by at ten?"

Frank nodded. "Thanks so much." He grinned, his white teeth gleaming. "Oh, and by the way, it's not Magda. It's another one of the realtors."

"Oh?" Peter said, "Who?"

"I can't remember," Frank said. "Shawn something or other."

Frank gave Peter's ass a squeeze and then walked out of the house. A few moments later, Peter heard his car drive off.

Peter couldn't picture Shawn. Was he the old guy? Ugh, he hoped not. But what could he do? There was not much he could do.

At ten am, he was waiting outside for Shawn's car to pull up. Within a few minutes, a grey Mercedes came roaring down the street, quickly slowed in front of his house and pulled into the driveway, stopping feet away from where Peter was standing.

The front window on the passenger side of the car lowered.

"Are you Peter?" a voice said.

Peter nodded and walked up to the window. He looked into the car.

The driver, Peter noticed immediately, was gorgeous. He was wearing a light blue suit with no tie, and judging by the width of his upper arms, and the size of his legs, the driver was in excellent shape. His face was precise and symmetrical, his lips a little full and heavy, and his eyes were bright. Every one of his teeth were white and perfectly shaped. He had a slight, scrappy beard. Peter was not into blondes -- and this guy's hair might have been bleached, it was so blonde -- but it looked fantastic. Loose, and wavy, but not too long.

"I'm Shawn," the driver said. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"I guess," Shawn said. He was wearing a white tank top, dark shorts and a pair of white sneakers. "It's hot out -- I figured I'd just try to be comfortable."

"Well, it doesn't matter now," Shawn said. "Get in."

Peter opened the door and got into the car. The seats were of some beautiful buttery leather that felt obscenely soft. As soon as he made contact with the seat, Peter imagined what it would feel like to have Shawn fuck him on these leather seats.

It was a warm, inviting, easily imagined scenario and he got lost a little in it.

His daydreams were making his dick chub out, and he had to rearrange himself a little as he put on his seatbelt. This was hard because when he was sitting, his already short shorts seemed to get even shorter, and more of his thighs were exposed. Looking down, it looked like he wasn't wearing much -- maybe just a pair of dark underwear.

Shawn, however, was all business. He wrenched the standard transmission into reverse and putting his hand on Peter's headrest, he looked back as he reversed.

Peter could almost feel Shawn's hand through the headrest.

"Why are you looking back?" Peter said. "There's a little screen for that."

"I know," Shawn said, annoyed.

They drove to the first house, silent. Peter felt particularly naked comparing his bare legs to Shawn's suited legs. It was hot today, and it was going to get hotter, but the air conditioning in the car made Peter feel very self-conscious about his relative nakedness. For instance, he liked this tank top because the straps of the shirt didn't cover his nipples. His nipples were quite visible. He had chosen this shirt because he wanted to annoy Magda and make her regret her babysitting comments. But now, he was worried because his nipples were hanging out of his shirt, and they were getting hard in the cold air.

Shawn didn't seem to pay attention to him at all. When they arrived at the first house, Shawn put the car into park, taken off his seatbelt and said, "This is the first house."

They toured the first house, a sweet home that hadn't been renovated in decades. There was even orange wall paper in one of the bedrooms. A lot of the other visitors to the open house were straight couples. The couples held hands, and they eagerly pointed out potential nurseries, or imagined where the swingset would go.

Peter, on the other hand, walked behind Shawn and listened to him describe the ugly house to him. But while Peter listened to Shawn, Peter was only watching the impressive inverted triangle of Shawn's back, the round globes of his butt, his giant hands. He just could not stop thinking about fucking Shawn. Or, more accurately, Shawn fucking him.

When Shawn stopped in the upstairs primary bedroom, and began talking about the closets and the size of the ensuite bathroom, Peter looked at how tight Shawn's waist was, how flat his stomach must be under that perfectly white shirt. And he couldn't tell for sure -- it was too carefully concealed -- but he thought he could see that Shawn had a giant dick in his pants.

Peter briefly imagined unzipping Shawn's pants right there, reaching into Shawn's fly and wrangling out that thick, hard, fat cock from the fabric and immediately jamming that giant monster dick into his mouth. He thought about running his tongue up and down its length, then trying to swallow all of its thickness, letting its fullness widen his mouth.

But in a moment, Shawn had moved onto another room and then another. Eventually they left the house to go to the next open house.

This time, before he got into the car, Peter tried to discreetly rearrange his own dick because it had started to thicken again. His legs, resting on that soft leather, and so close to Shawn's, began to tingle. His balls and his taint and his asshole began to tingle. His butt began to tingle.

The tingle ran up his body. It ran up his almost bare chest, and hit his nipples, which were hardening again in the air conditioning. They felt harder, bigger this time. Peter wondered what they looked like. Did they look perverse?

He took out his phone to look at himself, and he noticed that yes, he looked almost naked under his tiny little tank top. Also, his chest was showing a bright red sex flush. And finally, his nipples were out and hard and looking very urgently horny.

He put his phone away, and hoped that Shawn didn't notice any of this.

"Making a TikTok?" Shawn asked.

"No," Peter said. "Just a selfie." He thought that was less embarrassing than what he was actually doing.

"Yeah, I bet," Shawn said. "Another thirst trap."

What?

They pulled up at the next property, so Peter had no chance to respond. But as they walked through this property -- an unconverted loft with lots of young, arty people looking at it -- Peter could only think about what Shawn had said.

He must think I'm attractive. He must!

But how could he act on it? Shawn, now that they were touring the property, was all business. He would get close to Peter in the crowded room, and Peter could feel Shawn's warmth as they stood close together, but Peter wanted more. He wanted Shawn to grab him there, rip off his little short shorts, and fucking plow his giant dick into Peter's willing asshole. He wanted to be fucked within an inch of his life in front of all of these gawking straight people -- all of them too shocked to leave, stunned to watch as Shawn's enormous dick slipped in and out of Peter's hole.

But that was not happening. Peter looked at Shawn's crotch, he tried to catch Shawn's eye, he tried even to lean into him when they stood close together, but Shawn did not return any of Peter's glances. He didn't show any interest in Peter.

Instead, they walked around the loft a bit more, and eventually they got back into the car and began driving to the third property.

At this point, Peter began to feel like he was being jerked around. He looked over at Shawn's face and then his crotch. He thought of reaching over and massaging the impressive mound in his pants. But Shawn was not giving him any indication he would like it. And what if he hit on their realtor and then his realtor told his boyfriend? That would really fuck things up. Frank had just forgiven Peter for one of his previous fuck-ups -- when he'd fucked Frank's brother. He couldn't risk it.

Peter was in for an even worse surprise. When they opened the door to the last house, Magda was standing there.

"I missed our babysitting!" she said. "Did Shawn show you around?"

"Yes," Peter said.

Oh god, did this mean that Shawn was going to leave?

"Take a look around," Shawn said. "Magda and I have some business to talk about. It might take a bit of time."

"Look at your phone," Magda said. "I'm sure that'll keep you entertained." She laughed.

Peter felt awful. He felt angry and sexually pent up. He walked through the house, looking for an outlet.

The house was tastefully arranged. There were a lot of potted plants, and framed art on the walls. The walls were white and the floorboards were dark and beautifully stained. And aside from Magda, Shawn and himself, there was no one here.

Peter went upstairs and found the primary bedroom. There was a wide King bed with a white comforter on it. Above the bed was a framed drawing.

The drawing was of two very muscular men fucking.

So gays lived here! Peter walked closer to the bed and the drawing. One man was a huge leather daddy, and his disproportionally huge cock was pushing into the asshole of a construction worker.

Peter was still sexually pent up from all of the Shawn stuff. He began to rub the front of his pants as he walked over to the bedside table and opened it up.

Bingo! There was a wide array of butt plugs and dildos in the drawer, and a tube of lube.

Peter grabbed one of the dildos, a thick veiny one, and brought it into the ensuite bathroom with him. Over the matching sinks was an enormous mirror.

He put the dildo down on the counter.

He didn't care if Magda found him. Who cares? The thought of Magda finding him titillated him a little.

He ripped off his tank top. He dropped his shorts and stepped out of them. He poured some lube into his hand. It was cold at first, but it soon warmed up. He began rubbing the lube around his asshole. It felt good to feel his asshole in this mostly empty house. His asshole puckered and opened, it tingled as he began to anticipate putting the dildo in his ass.

His cock was standing straight out, rock hard, pulsing in time with his puckering asshole.

The dildo was about the length and thickness of Frank's dick. Peter lubed the dildo up, and then positioned its tip against his sphincter. He began pushing.

Frank hadn't fucked him in awhile, and so instead, Peter spent many mornings imagining Frank was fucking him, and jamming a dildo up his ass. But now, the dick he imagined going into him, was Shawn's.

The dildo's head pushed into his ass, and for a moment, it felt like he was opening too wide. No matter how many times he fucked, he felt this momentary panic and spasm. Frank said it was good -- that it always felt like he was fucking a brand new asshole. For a moment, sweat broke out on his forehead, and he moaned.

The feeling quickly passed as his sphincter slipped around the head of the dildo.

Now, he felt the fullness of the dildo, its impressive size in his asshole. He kept pushing it further in. He turned sideways to watch it disappear inside him. As he pushed it further and further, the dildo widening his asshole's mouth, making him feel fuller and fuller, it disappeared more and more. It felt like a magic trick -- his dick was eating the dildo.

He pushed the dildo all the way in, until the fake balls were resting on his butt cheeks. It felt amazing -- his asshole was radiating electric shivers, and he began to stroke his dick -- so hard at this point, that it felt like it might break if he stroked too much. He felt like he should masturbate like this for hours, or come in the next second, he couldn't decide.

Peter closed his eyes and thought, Imagine if this was Shawn's dick.

Almost on cue, he heard someone at the door of the bathroom.

He looked over. It was Shawn.

Shawn was holding a phone.

"I thought I might take a photo," Shawn said. "This is pretty hot."

"Where's Magda?" Peter said, his dick drooping.

"I told her to leave," Shawn said. "I knew you needed a good fucking, and I didn't want to be disturbed."

Shawn approached, taking more photos. "You want me to fucking destroy that bubble butt, don't you?"

Peter nodded.

Shawn came up and took a photo of Peter's ass with the dildo crammed into it. He showed the photo to Peter. "Look how fucking dirty your sweet asshole looks. It fucking ate that dildo. I can't wait to see what it does to my fucking hammer."

Peter nodded again. His asshole looked great. His fuck chute flushed with pleasure. It wanted to know what it was like to have Shawn's cock plunged inside it to its hilt.

Shawn slowly pulled the dildo out, and Peter moaned. When it was finally out, Shawn took a photo of Peter's partially open asshole. He showed the craggy, still gaping mouth to Peter.

"Your asshole has gotten a workout. But my dick is going to annihilate it."

He put the dildo down on the counter.

"Take my dick out," Shawn said. He looked down at his crotch.

Peter turned around and unzipped Shawn's fly. He reached in to the fly and felt for his dick. He felt the hardened, hot flesh -- it was enormous. It felt like an arm.

"You'll have to unbutton my pants. I can never just pull it through my fly."

Peter did as he told, and pulled Shawn's pants open.

His dick lay nestled in his pants -- he had no underwear on -- it looked like a warm, smooth and hot snake. Peter pulled it loose and it stood up, like a fleshy baseball bat.

"Compare it to the dildo," Shawn said. "Go ahead. Put them side by side."

Peter did so. The dildo was large, but Shawn's dick was another inch or so thick, and at least two inches longer.

"That's what's going inside you," Shawn said. "Do you want to back out?"

Peter shook his head.

"Good," Shawn said. "Bend over the sink."

Peter bent over the sink. He could see Shawn in the reflection. Shawn was buttoning his suit pants up and tucking his shirt in, but keeping his dick out. He reached over to the lube and lubed up his long, monster dick. It was so big and magnificent, Peter couldn't believe it was real. He wanted the dick so bad -- he wanted it to be part of him.

Peter's dick was so fucking hard. He flexed it out occasionally, letting it breathe and pulse, and it felt like it had never been this big. It ached with anticipation.

And then Shawn positioned his cockhead against his asshole. The hard flesh pressed against his sphincter. He had just been stretched out, but as the dick pushed in, very quickly, his sphincter started to reach new territories of stretch. Shawn was going slowly, but his cock was so big Peter felt incredible, exquisite pain.

Peter gasped. He put his head down and closed his eyes. Shawn stopped. Could Peter do it? Could he take all of this dick?

He wanted it so much. The idea of it being inside him sent shivers up his taint.

Shawn rubbed Peter's bare back. "It's okay, Peter. We'll go slow. I know how much this asshole is hungry for my gigantic cock."

They stopped for what felt like forever, just frozen at the sink. Shawn's dick pulsed. Peter's mouth fell open. Oh God, Peter thought, I want it so bad.

The tension in Peter's asshole began to release, one strand at a time. When most of the strands were gone, Peter pushed back on Shawn's dick. The pain and tension increased momentarily, and then a wave of release: his asshole finally pushed past Shawn's cockhead. He stopped pushing.

"Oh that is good," Peter said. "My asshole is going to eat all of that cock."

They stood like that for a moment.

As they did, something began to flip in Peter's brain: his ass wasn't too wide -- it wasn't wide enough! He needed more and more of Shawn.

He began to push back on Shawn's shaft.

Shawn was delighted. "I'm recording my dick disappearing into this fucking gorgeous ass."

Peter felt Shawn push deeper and deeper into him, Peter stretching to envelope the hugeness of Shawn. He felt like he was being stuffed deeper and deeper, his whole body taking on this enormous foreign intruder. But after that first almost incomprehensibly impossible stretch, Peter knew that he could take it.

Shawn's dick belonged to him.

Shawn kept pushing. It felt like the pushing could go on forever, that Shawn's dick fill up Peter's entire body, but then, the fabric of Shawn's suit touched Peter's buttocks.

"I'm in," Shawn said. "I'm into this bubble butt." He slapped Peter's ass lightly.

That was it, Peter had won. He had taken this monster inside him. He could feel it softly pulsing inside, like a wild animal he had caught and caged. He began to rock back and forth on it. He wanted Shawn to know that he was in charge. He was owning Shawn's dick.

"I love your fucking fat cock," Peter said.

"I can see that," Shawn said. "I'm filming my dick going into your asshole. I've never seen an ass this eager."

He showed the video to Peter. Shawn's dick looked enormous, inhuman -- a pink, rigid snake squeezing into Peter's hole. On either side, stretched impossibly wide, were Peter's two muscular, bulbous cheeks.

"Yeah, you like my fucking asshole," Peter said. "It fucking loves you."

Peter pushed Shawn off, and then he hopped onto the vanity countertop. He laid back and raised his legs in the air.

"Fuck me like this," Peter said.

Shawn nodded. His face looked like it was in pain -- he was so turned on by Peter. He tore off his jacket and then started furiously unbuttoning his shirt. When he got caught on a button, Peter reached across and tore his shirt apart. A button went flying. Shawn tore the shirt off.

His gigantic chest and chiseled abs were revealed in their heaving, sweaty glory. Shawn ripped open his pants and let them drop and then lined up his dick and slammed it into Peter's asshole. It didn't hurt at all, as Peter's hole warmly wrapped around it, welcoming and accepting it, like a velvet sleeve.

Peter said, "You're dick should always be inside me."

Shawn said, "Oh my god, I love your fucking dirty little asshole. I can't believe I waited all day to get into it."

He began pushing in and out into Peter. Peter's feet -- still wearing his white sneakers -- rested on Shawn's shoulders.

Peter could feel Shawn pump in and out, and when he pumped in, Peter squeezed the dick as hard as possible. He wanted to milk as much precum as possible out of Shawn before it let loose. He wanted Shawn to drive Shawn insane with pleasure.