The Adventures of Boipussy Pt. 02

Pete moaned. He felt Ace's weight bearing down upon him, he smelled his sexy scent, he felt his long blonde hair tickling his chest, and he felt his dick in his pussy. "Fuck me, Ace," he whispered. "Keep fucking me. I love you."

"I love you too, Pete." Ace's cock twitched again, and Pete's pussy gripped it hard. Nothing came out -- Ace was physically spent from shooting his first load -- but the sensation felt the same. And as he collapsed on top of Pete's body, he felt a thick warmth.

He'd made Pete cum, just from penetration. He wasn't sure if he'd ever done that to anyone else before. He lifted his head and gazed at Pete's beautiful freckles. Pete's mouth lay open, wordless, in ecstasy.

Ace reached down between them and scooped up some of his boyfriend's load. It was so fucking warm. He put his fingers onto his tongue, drinking Pete in.

Ace finally pulled out and lay next to his boyfriend. He stroked Pete's chest and kissed his neck. "It's official."

"What's official?" asked Pete.

"My balls. They're empty."

"Aww poor baby," Pete responded. He reached down to massage Ace's nutsack.

They smiled deliriously at each other.

"I don't know about you," said Pete, "but all this sex gets exhausting."

"I know what you mean," Ace replied. "Is it time for a lazy weekend catnap?"

"Yeah," Pete giggled. "There's heaps to do in Atlanta, but lying next to you is better than visiting any museum."

"You can show me your city another time. I'm sure I'll be back."

Pete rolled over onto his side, and Ace lovingly scratched his back until he heard his boyfriend begin to snore.

Ace's cock was still hard. The plug was still in, and he knew he wasn't allowed to take it out until tomorrow.

Pete slept like a log, but Ace only slept lightly. His dick was delicately wedged between Pete's ass cheeks as his arm enveloped his chest.

Time passed, and the sun began to set.

*

They woke up as the moon began to rise. Despite the plug, Ace eventually fell into a coma, but eventually, his hungry stomach woke him up. He shook Pete from behind. "Hey, dude. Wake up."

"Fuck off." Pete was in the middle of a sweet dream. He was swimming in the ocean, and he felt safe and warm.

"C'mon, dude." Ace's tummy rumbled.

Pete's beach disintegrated. He opened his eyes and rubbed the sand out of them. He rolled over and focused on Ace. "Fuck, man, you woke me up."

"I know I did. Aren't you hungry? Let's get something to eat."

Pete stretched, yawned, and farted. "Hear that?" he said. He remembered Ace's punishment from last night. "Bet you can't drop a fart right now, can you?"

The thought hadn't crossed Ace's mind. Is it possible to fart while you're plugged? He responded to the challenge, purely in the interests of science. "Wait," he said, focusing all his efforts on expelling a juicy stinkbomb. He had one in him, he just couldn't make it bubble up to the surface.

Pete grinned. "Come on, push it out, dude."

Ace struggled and strained. "Can't make it happen." He sweated and pushed, and miraculously, he gave birth. "There it goes."

The rancid scent wafted across to Pete. "If you're hungry, you might want to make some room for more food first."

"Huh?" replied Ace.

"Maybe take a shit before we go out."

"But then I'd need to take the plug out," said Ace. "I thought that was the bet? That I needed to keep it in until tomorrow?"

Pete kissed him, burying his tongue deep in Ace's throat. He smiled. "I think you've suffered enough."

"Thank fuck for that," Ace said. He stood, bent forward slightly and squeezed as he slowly let the buttplug fall out. After Ace's recent effort to squeeze out a fart, let's just say it needed a serious clean.

"Fuck, that was hot," whispered Pete. "Show me your gape?"

Ace leaned forward. It was a little messy, but his boipussy was gaped wide enough for someone to drive a truck into it. Sideways. "You gonna take a dump before we go out?" Pete asked.

"Yeah. But you aren't allowed to watch." Ace headed to the bathroom and locked the door.

Pete pouted. He waited patiently as Ace's digestive system destroyed his apartment.

Ace flushed and opened the door. "Nobody smoke," he joked.

Pete hit the exhaust fan and pinched his nose. "Get dressed. We're going to Eternal. The sun is setting and it's time for a meal and some drinks. The time is metal o'clock."

Ace threw a faded Fear Factory t-shirt over his shoulders. He flopped his tongue out and raised his devil horns. "I'm ready."

Pete looked down at Ace's flaccid dick. "Maybe put some pants on first."

Ace looked down at his junk. "Oh. Yeah. There's that. I'll grab some pants."

Pete looked at Ace's naked feet. "And some shoes."

Ace was still hopping into his pants. "Yeah. I'll pull my boots on."

"Fuck, you're cute," Pete said.

Ace nearly blushed. "Shut the fuck up and get us an uber."

Pete grinned as his fingertips danced across his touchscreen. He couldn't remember the last time he ever felt this happy.

*

Pete asked the driver to drop them off a block away from Eternal. He led Ace into a burger joint. Fifteen minutes later, they sat at a table, facing each other, each with a haloumi burger and a side of fries in front of them. Pete paid.

The burger contained lettuce, cheese, tomato, onion, pickles, jalapenos, and two thick slices of pan-fried haloumi. The whole production was drowned in ketchup and mustard.

Ace unwrapped his burger. He looked at his plate and flicked his hair out of his face. "That's fucking massive. That might be the biggest burger I've ever seen. Why the fuck did we order fries? Do I eat this fucker with my hands, or a knife and fork, or maybe even with a front-end loader?"

Pete grinned. He'd ordered this burger a thousand times. "Don't be a fucking pussy. Pick it up and eat it." Pete held his burger in front of his mouth. He expertly squeezed the buns together and took a bite. Sauce dribbled out the corner of his mouth, but he was perfectly comfortable with that particular sensation.

Ace tried to follow Pete's example. He took a bite, and the ass fell out of his burger. Tomato, cheese, and a slice of haloumi fell out of the bun, and his hands were saturated with mustard. Lettuce fluttered on the breeze. "Fuck, dude."

Pete smiled with hilarity as he watched Ace wipe his hands, and then try to reconstruct his burger. It took a few minutes for Ace to assemble the delicate tower, but as he went to take a bite, the whole thing fell apart again.

"They've given me a faulty bun. Why does your bun work and mine doesn't?"

"I always got good buns, Ace, you should know that about me by now." Pete took another huge bite of his delicious burger. "Fucking delicious," he said, chewing, mouth full. Speaking with his mouth full was, again, not an unusual experience for Pete.

Ace accepted defeat. He tackled his deconstructed burger by eating the ingredients off the wrapping paper one by one.

"You've made a little mess there, Ace," Pete joked. "Haven't you ever eaten a burger before?"

In frustration, Ace shot back. "Well, we can't all be lucky enough to be born without a gag reflex, can we?"

Conversations on nearby tables stopped. Everyone knew exactly what that meant. Pete wasn't sure what to say or do.

Ace turned to face his fellow diners. "What can I say?" he asked rhetorically. "It's true. He wasn't. I mean, it's just a fact. On reflection, we should've ordered hot dogs."

There was a dude sitting two tables away, eating dinner with his parents. He knew he was gay, but he hadn't mustered up the courage to come out to them yet. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to. It felt way too difficult, and he couldn't predict how his parents might respond. He was still a virgin, and his parents were completely oblivious to his sexuality. They wondered when he'd get his first girlfriend, not knowing he'd probably never have one. He desperately wanted to find a boyfriend, but he couldn't do that if he wasn't out. He wished he could own his sexuality as proudly as these two denim-clad long-haired dudes. He thought they were sexy. He knew he'd have a serious tug later tonight thinking about the red-haired guy who was, apparently, highly skilled in the fellatio department.

Ace and Pete talked as they continued to eat. Ace picked at his fries while Pete destroyed his burger. "Just heading to the bathroom," Pete said. He wanted to wash his hands.

Ace followed him. He noticed Pete at a washbasin, lathering up his hands with liquid soap. He stood at the next washbasin and did the same. He looked in the mirror at Pete. He smiled as Pete looked back.

Without a single word, they dried their hands, and locked themselves in a cubicle.

Ace violently mashed Pete up against the door and jammed his tongue so far down his throat he nearly tasted his boyfriend's meal. Pete's fat, vicious tongue responded. Ace moaned. He pulled his face away and gazed deep into Pete's eyes. A trail of spit connected their lips. "Fuck, I can't tell you how much I love kissing you. Your mouth is like heaven."

Pete grinned. "I've been told that before. And I'm not stopping you."

Ace leaned back in, gripping Pete's jaw, holding his mouth close. He wished he was still wearing his buttplug.

Pete's hands fumbled at the buckle of Ace's tight denim jeans. The battle was fierce, but he eventually prevailed. He undid Ace's button, pulled down the zip, and reached inside. His hand feverishly pumped Ace's shaft as they continued to kiss.

The guy who was eating dinner with his parents entered the bathroom to take a piss, but he couldn't get a stream going because it was obvious that those two guys were making out in a cubicle. He heard bumps, thrusts and moans, and as he stood there, trying to take a piss, he popped a boner. He would've given anything to know what was going on inside the cubicle.

Pete dropped to his knees and sucked Ace's cock into his throat. The feeling was so intense that Ace's knees began to buckle. He gripped the top of the cubicle door to steady himself.

"Fuck, Pete, you gotta stop."

"Nuh-uh. Blow it in my mouth."

Ace came so fucking hard the cubicle door rattled with the force of his body. As his orgasm washed over him, he roared, not caring who heard him or what they thought.

Ace helped Pete to his feet. He knew what was coming next. Pete kissed Ace deeply, and they swapped his load back and forth for a few minutes.

Pete pulled his pants up and rebuckled his jeans. They stepped out of the cubicle.

The guy from the nearby table was slumped in a corner of the bathroom. His load dribbled down the shaft of his small, yet fiercely erect penis. He looked up as the two metalheads exited the cubicle. He mumbled an apology.

*

Pete led Ace across the street to Eternal. The night was early. Their bellies were full, but Ace's balls were empty.

Pete ordered two beers. Carlos was behind the bar tonight. The room was quiet. They chatted for a few minutes as Carlos poured their ales. Pete gave him a $20 bill, and he received two $10 bills as change. Pete smiled in gratitude. He gave one of the beers to his boyfriend and they found a table.

"So you're gonna play here tomorrow night?" Pete asked.

"I mean, yeah." Ace took a sip of his ale. "That's the plan. That's why I'm here."

"And also to hang out with me," pouted Pete.

"Yeah, that too," Ace replied.

Carlos stood behind the bar with not much to do. Pete waved him over. "Hey, dude, can you come sit with us for a while?"

There was very little demand for beer at this stage of the evening, though Carlos knew it was early. He expected it'd get busier later. He left the bar and headed across to his drummer's table.

Carlos felt a little strange. He took stock of the situation. He'd lost his boyfriend, Gorilla, recently in a tragic accident. He was still coming to terms with the loss and was burying himself in work to try to move on. He tried to shut out the world -- the only things that existed for him right now were his friends, music and Eternal.

Pete, the drummer in his band, was one of his closest friends, but it hadn't always been this way. Carlos had always regarded Pete as an excellent drummer, but for most of their time together in Ass To Mouth, Pete lusted after him, and it was difficult for them to form a mature friendship. But now that Pete was head over heels in love with Ace, the sexual tension between them had disappeared.

Carlos remembered that he and Ace fucked at first sight the night before Gorilla died. He regretted it. It sullied his memory of Gorilla, but it wasn't Ace's fault. It was just sex, it didn't mean anything, and he never expected Gorilla would die the very next day and that he'd never see him again.

He felt bad that he fucked Ace before Pete did. He wished it hadn't happened. But the past can't be unwound, and it can't be stitched back together again, either.

So much stuff was packed into such a short space of time. Carlos still had a gaping hole in his life where Gorilla had once been, but his heart warmed as he saw how close Pete and Ace were becoming.

Carlos shook Ace's hand. "Can't fucking to watch Boipussy rock out tomorrow night!" he said.

Ace leaned in for a hug, planting a wet kiss on Carlos's cheek. "Thanks, man! I'm really looking forward to it, and it's awesome to see you again!"

Pete watched their embrace and smiled. These were the two hottest men he'd ever met, but he had the one he wanted. He took a slug of beer.

Carlos turned to Pete. "How's things, helldrums?"

Pete beamed. "Yeah, not too bad." He glanced sideways at Ace and knew he'd never been happier in his life. But the contrast to Carlos's life was stark. "How are you coping, buddy?"

Carlos wiped away a silent tear. He still wasn't over the loss of Gorilla. Maybe he never would be. "I don't know. I guess I'm OK." He was silent for a moment. "Been writing a lot of new stuff on my acoustic lately, but it's probably a little too melancholy for Ass To Mouth."

"Don't fucking turn us into softcock rock," Pete laughed. "The day you bring 'Hotel California' into the rehearsal room is the day I throw my kick drum at you."

Carlos smiled. He was just working cathartic shit out of his system. "No fucking chance of that." They bumped fists.

Carlos looked sideways as a thirsty customer approached an unmanned bar in search of beer. "Wait a second," Carlos said as he stood to return to duty. He poured some beers, took some cash, and returned to Ace and Pete. "How are you finding our fair city, stranger?" he asked Ace.

"I have an excellent tour guide," was Ace's response. Pete blushed in embarrassment. They hadn't really been anywhere except Pete's bed.

Carlos knew, without a doubt, that Pete was deliriously happy right now. It was written all over his face. It felt bittersweet for him to see his friend experiencing such joy while he felt such sorrow within his own heart. He decided it was best for everyone if he went back behind the bar. "I'm gonna leave you two alone," he said. "Have a great night." He pointed to Ace. "Expecting a kick ass show from Boipussy tomorrow night. Fuckin' tear these walls down."

Ace raised his metal horns, and Carlos responded in kind before heading back to the bar. The crowd began to swell, and Carlos knew he'd be pouring beers solidly for the next few hours. From time to time, he looked across at Pete and Ace. He watched them in quiet conversation, and he felt jealous. Watching them interacting with each other reminded him of how he felt when he was with Gorilla.

Carlos was happy for Pete, but he wiped away a tear in memory of Gorilla. He snapped back into the present and served the next customer.

The lights dimmed and a goth band took the stage. The boys left their table to watch the band. The room filled with dry ice. A deep keyboard drone shook the room before the guitars kicked in. There was no drummer -- the band preferred the cool, stale, precision of a drum machine. The singer wandered out from the curtain with his face painted white. He approached the mic stand in the centre of the stage.

Ace gestured towards the band. "Do you know who they are?" he asked.

"No idea," answered Pete.

"Take a look at this cunt," said Ace. "He looks like a ghost. I think he needs a little more sunshine."

Pete giggled. The drum machine came to life. "Drummer's good," he laughed. "Way better than me."

Ace stood behind his boyfriend, draping his arms over his shoulders. Pete craned his neck back and kissed Ace's cheek. Neither of them knew who they were watching, but they were mentally cocooned in each other's dark embrace.

"I love you," said Pete.

Ace's arms wrapped around Pete's waist. They watched the goth band play their 45 minute set. From time to time, Ace leaned forward to brush Pete's hair aside so he could plant delicate butterfly kisses on his neck.

Ace's arms never let Pete's waist go.

The darkwave band left the stage and the house lights came back on.

"You're mine," whispered Ace.

"If you say so," Pete laughed, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek.

They kept drinking, and Carlos ensured their evening's alcohol consumption remained dollar-neutral. Carlos knew both Ace and Pete would be back at Eternal tomorrow night; Boipussy were scheduled to play and he couldn't wait to see them.

Carlos's two special customers hugged him on the way out. He couldn't help feeling jealous of them. He wanted what they had. Once upon a time he had it himself, but it was gone now. He knew they were going to fuck tonight, then sleep together, then wake up together, but Carlos was going to go home alone, sleep alone, and wake up alone.

Carlos shed another silent tear. He felt happy for his drummer, but sorry for himself.

*

Pete called an uber, and he and Ace piled into the backseat.

Ace's phone pinged. He checked the message. "Shit. Fuck. No fucking way," he said. His face looked panicky.

"What's up?" asked Pete. He flicked his red hair back away from his face, and for a moment, his boyfriend drowned in the beauty of his freckles.

Ace composed himself. "I got a message from our bass player. Our drummer ... he's in the fucking hospital. His appendix burst and they're cutting him up right now."

Pete didn't know Boipussy's drummer very well at all, but he was his first thought. "Will he be OK?"

"Yeah, uhh ... I guess so, like, eventually," was Ace's tentative reply. "I'm not a doctor, but isn't it a matter of cutting it out and stitching him up? I'll visit him when I get back to Florida, but I'm guessing he won't be able to play drums for a while. Maybe even for a few months. And we can't play tomorrow night without a drummer, so I guess we're gonna have to cancel."

"I know all your songs," said Pete.

"What the fuck?"

Pete repeated himself. "I know how to play all your songs. Maybe not exactly the same way as your own drummer, but I know them well enough to tell you that you don't have to cancel shit."

Ace paused to take in what Pete had said. "Are you serious? You'd play for Boipussy?"

The uber driver's ears pricked up, but he said nothing.

"I'd totally play for Boipussy," Pete replied. The uber driver looked at his backseat cargo. He was definitely gonna give these sexy guys five stars. He didn't know they were referring to Ace's metal band, but even so, his dick was unexplainably hard. He wished he could pull over, park the car, crawl into the backseat and suck them both off, but he remained quietly professional, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

Pete continued. "Text your bass player, tell him you've found a solution to the appendix problem." He grinned. "It's either me, or it's the goth band's metronome. Choose wisely."

Ace's fingers danced across the touchscreen of his phone, and by the time the uber pulled up at Pete's building, he had the response he wanted. They got out, closed the doors, and the car sped away.