The Summerhouse Ch. 04: Michael

My tongue swirled across his thick dick and caressed his smooth shaft. He held the back of my head, but I had no hesitation in burying my nose in his pubic fuzz. He didn't need to hold my head in place, as I wanted to go nowhere.

He rewarded me with his cum; fired into my mouth without warning. I swallowed. It was natural. He grinned as I looked up at him. "Such a fucking tramp!" Benji gestured towards the Black beast, watching the homosexual sex show. "Go on, Michael."

The long-sleeved lycra skinsuit covered him from his neck to his ankles, and he eyed me and then his friend. "Yo, I ain't sure."

Benji glared at me. "Tell him how much you want it."

My cheeks reddened as I stared at the muscular giant while kneeling. "I would love to suck your cock, Sir."

"See? He's a proper whore. Help a fellow cyclist as he needs cock." Benji teased. "At least try out the goods I have provided for you."

I was an object. Benji had supplied me to his friends. I felt cheap and worthless. My cock bobbed even further at his words. Benji was persuasive. Michael unzipped the front of his lycra skinsuit and pulled his arms through, so the garment rested on his waist. My hands pulled the cycle clothing to his thighs and his cock bobbed free.

Soft, black, circumcised, veiny and fascinating. Truly enchanting. The bulbous mushroom head was disgustingly delicious. Sweaty and manly, salty and powerful. My lips slid down his dark dick until my nose nestled at the base of his hairless mons.

Perhaps it was the nature of the hookup. The fetishisation of gay interracial encounters in the pornography I watched made me feel naughtier for enjoying it, and the hot, sweaty nature of his dick was more of an aphrodisiac to my clouded mind. Benji and Darren offered words of filthy encouragement that swirled around my brain as I went down on the black cyclist. I loved sucking on Michael's prick. I could have stayed on my knees until the sun set on that corner of Somerset. My lips worked his stiff prick until Michael panted, gasped and his legs trembled.

My third load of the day fired into my mouth as the reluctant cyclist groaned loudly. He grabbed my cum-covered hair and rammed his black cock to the back of my throat. "Choke the nancy!" Benji called. "Make him squeal."

Michael laughed at me, and then my fuck buddy. "Not bad. He can suck a cock pretty well."

"Yes, he can!" Benji called, and he nodded towards me. "Go get my black backpack. There are some beers in there. Go serve us, please. And then I might ram my prick up your arse."

"Eh? Does he do that too?" Michael asked.

"Of course. Don't tell me, you've never fucked a slutty white boy?" Benji asked, and sat down on the grass, well away from the area he soaked with his piss. "Subby white boys love cock, and they adore black cock. He'll bend over to have that thing plundering his poop chute any day of the week!"

My cheeks burnt as I walked naked to the brick hut. A black pannier contained four cans of ale that I took back to them, passing a can to each of the sitting cyclists. Benji grinned. "I bet you think that last one is for you, right?"

"Well ... I would love to have a beer, Benji."

He sighed, looking away from me, across the meadow and towards the babbling brook in the distance. "If I give you that, you owe me, right?"

"Sure," I muttered. He stared at me.

"And I will take payment, how I want."

"You know you can get all the fucking and sucking ..."

He cut me off. "I know that. I have that already. You give that out for free." I blushed once more. "Have the beer ..."

I pulled on the ring-pull and he smiled. "Thanks."

"Have the beer ... and there will be a payment you didn't expect." He winked at me as I sat down and gulped the warm can of English ale. It was refreshing in the hot summer sunshine, and the four of us chatted about bikes.

I knew my bike was old and cheap, but Darren showed me where I could get a cheap upgrade. "Your bike weighs more than both of ours put together! Second-hand half-decent road bike is only a couple of hundred quid. Or get a hybrid. But get rid of that awful, awful thing!"

Benji called to me. "There is just one thing I want to ride, boy! Come here. Now!"

I scooted to Benji's side and the dominant accountant beamed as he sent me inside to retrieve a small red bag from the pannier on his bike.

Condoms and lube. Benji had come prepared, and I laid on the soft grass, as directed. The lubricated fingers of my fuck buddy slipped into my hole.

My body craved his touch. I pined for his intrusion and groaned as his dominant probed me. He sniggered as I leant back on the grass and groaned. My hands held the backs of my thighs as I longed for his invasion; my libido demanded it. One finger became two and then three, and he slowly touched and massaged my prostate. My cock sparked as he stroked my horny button. My special place.

My cock seeped pre-cum onto my belly as he prepared my whorl for invasion. In his left hand he tossed Michael a condom. "Go roll that down your prick." The black cyclist took it. He didn't know what to say; the afternoon had taken an unexpected turn. It was a level of intimacy he did not expect, and I wasn't sure if he knew what he wanted. "Anal is the best sex. And fags like him can't enough of it."

His uncertainty didn't stop him. He rolled his cycling skinsuit to his waist once more and unfurled the latex condom over his dark, tumescent dick. His eyes filled with expectation and with lust. Mine probably did so too.

If giving a blow-job to a black dick was a subconscious taboo, then what was about to happen was much more so. Not that I cared. Michael knelt on the ground beside Benji and coated his prick in the transparent lubricant.

The first touch of his blunt head into my unguarded ass was heavenly. He stared at my eyes as he leant over my body and slowly forced his cock into me. Violating my sanctuary while he screwed a guy for the first time.

His face filled with anger and with lust. The first few thrusts showed me it was an aggressive, violent screw. He wanted to fuck someone, roger someone, bang someone. His lycra-dressed thighs smashed against by bare skin as he jackhammered into my arse.

Delightfully so. A lustful tingle built into a magical, smouldering glow. His rough fucking was incredible. His hands rested on my shoulder, pinning me to the ground as he pounded my arse.

"You like that?" Benji asked. "White bottoms love being tapped."

"Yeah," Michael breathed. He glared into my eyes as instinct had taken over. I could not stop the animal nature in him. There was no way I wanted to stop the wild, passionate thrusting deep into me; my legs parted further as he wantonly used the slut, Benji had provided for his friends.

His prick buried deep inside me had taken me to a delicious place, and for the first time in his life, Michael came inside another man.

Benji was next. He ploughed my stretched hole until pre-cum dribbled from my prick. I was a "nasty little pig" and a "desperate fag." He pounded my battered body to elicit his climax, and his orgasm only.

Benji didn't care that my balls were ready to come. He barely noticed that I had grunted with every deep thrust into my desperate butt and that my cock was itching to release.

He just grunted as he filled the condom at the end of his amazing prick and laughed as he withdrew. And then he emptied the contents of the latex sheath over my face as Darren plundered me.

Rubber-enriched cum dripped onto my lips as Darren screwed me. Ferocious, deep strokes from an inexperienced top. The chemically altered sapid taste slid across my lips as Darren smashed his cock into my backside.

He looked away from my face. The dominant man stared into the grass as he fucked me, not wanting to see that it was a guy underneath his prick. He wanted to believe that his dick was conquering an eighteen-year-old cheerleader, not a 24-year-old bisexual cuckold.

With a long groan, he announced he was coming and his cock trembled as he fired several waves of cum into the teat of the condom.

He withdrew the moment the post-orgasmic glow passed. Benji looked down at me. "Happy now, boy?"

"Almost," I moaned. My cock bobbed, still desperate for my climax. Benji was not interested. He never cared about my pleasure, just his own.

"Get up," he ordered, and I scrambled to my feet. I wiped my mouth free of his cum with the back of my hands. "Payment for your beer is due. Your cycling clothes?" He demanded, holding his hands out.

"But I need them," I replied. "I can't ride home naked." He glared at me, and I retrieved my white lycra shirt and shorts. He grinned and dropped them on the ground. I watched as he took aim and pissed over the discarded cycling gear. I gasped. "Benji," I yelled. "That's ..."

"Shut your bitchin'. You drank my beer. You pay the price." I grumbled, but he ignored my complaints. "Darren. Michael. Recycle your booze here." Then didn't hesitate, and three streams of very pale yellow piss splashed on my white lycra.

Benji slapped me on the back when he finished and pulled his black clothing over his waist and shoulders. "I'll see you in the week, boy! Have fun riding home with stinky wet white lycra."

Darren sniggered. "That was a pretty nasty thing to do."

"I know," Benji chuckled and wheeled his bike from the hut as I picked up the sopping wet gear. "But my boy likes nasty. That's in his blood. He'll get a stiffy from climbing into piss wet white lycra and smelling it as he rides home." His eyes sparkled as I pulled my cycling gear from the pile. "See ya, boy!"

I watched as the three club cyclists rode into the distance and down the track, swearing under my breath. The lycra was disgusting - cold, wet and fetid.

And sheer. The liquid made the white fabric translucent, and I looked obscene as I stood in front of my bike. I took a picture on my phone and was shocked at how see-through the garment had become. My semi-erect cock was visible, as was my hairless body. I sent it to Clare.

The ride home was scary and exhilarating. The quiet country lanes offered little traffic, and by the time I neared the city, much of the piss had dried from my garments. I knew I smelt awful, but I wasn't showing as much flesh in the city as I had done in the countryside.

The reality may not have been dreadful, but the mind-fuck was intense. That evening Clare wanted a complete account of my bike ride, and I told her everything. We both masturbated together, 150 miles apart, as I recounted my tale.

"Did you enjoy it?" She asked.

I hummed. "Yeah, I think I did. It was wild. I'd like you to have been there. But it was filthy."

"And you love filthy?" Clare giggled.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"Can you please come up to Manchester?" Clare asked. "Next weekend? I think it would be good for you to visit."

"Why?"

"Victoria and Martin have some amazing games on Saturdays and you will just love them."

"Will I?" I muttered.

"And ... err ... well work have floated the idea about me coming to Manchester for the year. And I want to know what you think about moving back up here."

"But ..."

"It's changed, Jon." She interrupted.

"But, I like it in Bristol."

"Look, our lease is up on the flat in two months, so we need to agree if we want that place again for another year," Clare replied. "I promise, I will do what you want to do but I think you'll love playing in the summerhouse at the weekend. Come up for a couple of weekends, enjoy Martin and Victoria's company and the wild sex and the fantastic scenery. Victoria really wants us to move in with them while I have my assignment up here, and if it works out we can buy a house in the area."

"Move in with Victoria and Martin?" I exclaimed. "Really? Is that a good idea?"

"Yeah. Look, come and see what Cheshire is like and we'll decide. Together. Yes?"

I sighed. "Yeah OK. But if we do stay, you need to make Victoria let us pay our way. I'm not freeloading off of them. You've told me what she is like."

"I can't make Victoria do anything. No-one can." Clare laughed. "You can have that discussion with her."

"I will."

"I gotta go, as I have a conf call at seven with the fitters. Love you, babes!"

"OK. Love you too!" I called and collapsed on the bed.