Please Note

Firstly, welcome. This site details adult situations involving oodles and oodles of HOMOSEXUAL sex. Please, if this is not your cup-of-tea, leave now - don't spend two hours reading every story and then email me saying how it's not your cup-of-tea.

Additionally, in line with blogspot policy, this site neither condones nor describes sexual activity involving minors. All characters portrayed are above the age of consent of Great Britain, which is where the author lives and under whose laws he is governed.

Furthermore, every single word of every single story is complete and unabridged fiction. It is not knowingly based on anyone's real life, in any respect.

, these stories are MINE: don't post them elsewhere without my permission, or pass them off as your own. Please.

Finally, I hate to sound like a whiny little bitch, but if you like a story, let me know :-) Your thoughts can be registered in several ways: the clicky boxy things at the end of each story (one click and you're done), the comment-boxes at the end of each story, or email ( The clicky boxy things and comment-box submissions can both be submitted totally anonymously.
"Run with the swift."

Thursday, 6 October 2011

A New Direction For One Direction 3: Louis Tomlinson - The Sporty One

Two band-members down, three to go: now, the Doctor sets his sights on spunky Yorkshireboy Louis - and he won't let the boy's girlfriend, a football game or a celebratory banquet get in the way.

I wandered the hallways for a few minutes, and ran into Louis exiting a bathroom.

"Alright," he said with a grin. "Just havin' a piss, b'fore we get started."

"Yes. Well, don't mind me. Please, lead on."

Louis led me down a hallway, into his bedroom, making small-talk as he went. I was too fixated on his cheery angular face and the deliciously toned, hairless arms poking out from his oversized T-Shirt to pay much attention to the words. 

I just smiled and nodded, although I have to admit, his working-class northern twang was making me hard, again. I found it hard to believe he was 18; he looked a lot younger. Very boyish.

The room was, like Niall's, fairly spartan; no posters on the white walls, although there was a large window, with lots of midday sunlight streaming through. 

After a moment of looking around, I spoke to the lad. "Ok, Louis, as we don't have long before your game, I guess we'd better get started. Why don't you just sit down, wherever you feel comfortable, ok?"

He opted to plonk himself down on a bright red polyester armchair that was placed in the corner of his room, and was totally out of character with the rest of the room - although I suppose that's neither here nor there. But let me assure you, my wife wouldn't approve.

Slouching back on the chair with his back and neck straight, his legs were spread and his hands were resting on his thighs. His feet were wrapped  in a pair of white reebok classics, with short white ankle socks underneath them. 

His feet looked strong, and big. 

I could see a fine mat of dark hair trailing up his firm, well-exercised legs and tantalisingly up beyond the hem of his satiny navy-blue football shorts; not exactly 'hairy', but certainly more than the other two I'd corrupted.

Whilst the shorts were loose, his spread legs meant it was easy to make out a mass of well-packed meat at their apex. 

Looking up to his face, I passed over the lads chest; impossible to see the extent of his definition, but his wide shoulders and defined arms implied he would be as well filled-out under his black-and-blue striped T-Shirt as he appeared to be under his matching shorts.

"Ok like this?" Delicious. He didn't seem to even realise how I was devouring him whilst he was sitting there.

"Yes. Sit just like that for me, Louis." He smiled, as though reassured. He shouldn't of been. "Now, just to make sure I'm absolutely clear - you want me to make you better at football?"

"Yeah. Well, my girlfriend likes to watch me play-" I bet she does, I thought. "-and I ain't played against these guys before. I don't want to make a tit of myself. And I read about this bloke in America-" oh, here we go. "-who was, like, hypnotised into having faster reactions and stuff, and he was better at playing football. It was their football, though, not ours...will that make much of a difference?"

"That? No, THAT won't make much of a difference, Louis." He was talking absolute nonsense; probably 'read' about it in FHM, in an article sandwiched between the top ten fittest Big Brother contestants ever and the top 20 GP receptionists of 2010. 

But if it helped me get access to his traditionally straight cock, I was willing to go along with it. As you might imagine, I had now made it a matter of personal honour to sample the thick loads of the entire group, comparing and contrasting as I go.

I asked, in a manner which implied his answer mattered, "what position do you play?"

"Striker," he said with a satisfied grin.

I nodded sagely, not knowing what that word meant. "I see," I said.

He looked concerned as he suddenly asked me, "oh, I won't have to pay, will I? We ain't got any money yet, so I'm skint."

"Well, Louis, it is an interesting exercise, if nothing else, and I'd certainly like to see how...effective...such a method of improving a sportsman's ability is, in reality. So yes, I', for no charge. Besides...I'm sure we can work out some form of compensation later," I said with a smile. 

He just smiled back. The dumb fuck.

I retrieved my induction device, and used the same pattern I'd utilised on Niall, hoping I'd get a similar level of hypnotic depth with Louis as I got with Niall. 

This was unlikely, however: whilst you couldn't really tell from his boyish face or dopey state-educated brain, the fact of the matter is that his brain is simply more developed then that of the other boys, and hence, harder to subvert.

I knew I'd do my best, though. After a few minutes, he appeared to be quietly dozing, with his chin falling forward onto his T-Shirt, and his eyes closed. This was my cue to begin.

"Louis, can you hear me?"


"Good. I want you to imagine yourself on a football pitch, Louis. Not just any football pitch, however; the most prestigious football pitch in the country. The one you want to play at more than any other. And all your friends and family are in the crowd; they're all there, together with thousands of others, to watch you play, Louis. You're playing against the best team in the world. 

But as you kickoff, you feel yourself weaving through other players; dodging their tackles, thwarting their passes; you feel yourself moving faster, striking harder - you've never felt yourself play so well! It is this which I want you to take with you onto the pitch today, Louis; this spirit and strength of resolve, which will see you perform better than you ever have before at football."

As I spoke, it became obvious he was a boy who took his sport seriously, as I spied a thick tube running down his left thigh. Knowing he wasn't fully under yet, I knew I had to resist the temptation to touch him. 

But it did look mighty appetizing. 
Seeing his eyes tightly closed and his sombre, level breathing, I instead quickly knelt between his long legs, and reached for his shorts. Pulling the loose hem away from his inner thigh, I allowed the rays of sunlight coming through the window to shine some light on the situation; peering up past his fit, hairy leg, I could just about make out some pristine, practically glowing white boxer-briefs, with a largely peach-coloured dick-head poking out the corner, with just a sublime pink tip, as his head began to reveal itself.

The legs of his underwear was so tight, it made his dick look like it was taped to his leg; I chuckled at this. Wanting to see more of him, but still a little perturbed at touching him directly, I simply bunched up the hem of his shorts up past his boxers, so I could stare at his organ whilst we chatted.

Sitting back and sighing contentedly, I continued. "However, Louis. There is a problem. You worry about your skills deserting you as quickly as they arrived. About making a fool of yourself in front of all those people. Doesn't that terrify you Louis?"

He looked distressed as he replied, "um, yeah, it does."

"I imagine if I told you I could ensure your new, superior abilities would never desert you,'d do pretty much anything for that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. Anything."

"Good boy," I said, looking at his still covered knob out the corner of my eye, wanting to do nothing more than just skin him back and go to town.

I continued, "well, so long as you listen to my voice, Louis, I can do exactly that. But you must always follow the instructions of my voice; if you deviate in any way, then I can't be held responsible for what might happen. Do you understand?" He nodded in the affirmative.

"Now we don't have much time, so in a few moments, I'm going to wake you up. You shall awaken feeling refreshed and revitalised, and eager to begin your football game. However, you will still feel compelled to follow my instructions, knowing that I know best, and feeling an intense and overwhelming sense of absolute fear whenever you so much as consider the possibility of not doing precisely what I say. You will remember nothing, whatsoever, of your time when hypnotised. Do you understand?" Again, he nodded.

Not being able to resist any longer, but knowing they were probably looking for him downstairs, I quickly knelt, and placed my nose against the tight head, gently sniffing the delicate scent emanating from his crotch. 

It was obvious he'd showered,  and he was more perfumed then Niall had been and yet, underneath the sweet deodorant was a harsher, more primal scent then I had detected on the other two boys.

I gave one long, sloppy lick along the curve of his knob, causing the skin to retract further, but resisting the urge to carry on; I pulled his shorts back down, and woke him up. He rubbed his eyes for a second, before quickly realising his predicament and crossing his legs.

"Happens all the time," I said simply. He frowned, unpleased at the idea of me noticing, and stood when he felt he could get away with it. I continued, "well Louis, I believe you have a football game to play," at which point he quickly barged past me, eager to get out the room.

"Erm, thanks," he said awkwardly before leaving. I let him close the door.

"Anytime, my boy," I said to no-one in particular.

I went to the kitchen downstairs and chatted with some of the production staff who were making lunch, mainly to confirm it'd be okay if I stayed. It was nothing particularly appetising; pasta in some sort of red sauce. But, I wasn't about to leave easily, given my plans. 

It was apparently something they did once a week; get all the contestants around a big table for a meal, to help them bond and what have you. The acts didn't involve themselves in making this meal, on the logic that they had to prepare all their own meals for the rest of the week. I thought it was a nice idea.

The kitchen had a short hallway leading to a bathroom at one end, and a doorway leading to the dining room which contained a large, rectangular table in the centre of the room, and large French windows leading on to an expansive lawned garden. 

The table was far too large for the room, with chairs on all sides pressing up against walls, but they were clearly determined to get EVERYONE around a table.

I walked out into the garden, and leaned against an old oak tree as I watched the boys playing their game. I enjoyed watching the thrill and the exhilaration clearly on show as they all tried to best each other. 

The younger boys clearly wanted it more however, and I slowly zoned out as I watched their muscles fight one another under their shirts. 

It was a thrill to know I had seen what was under the shirts and shorts of two of the players; Niall, who'd changed into shorts but still wore his funky white T-Shirt, and Harry, who was dressed exactly the same as when he'd had what looked like a pint of spunk squirted over his face not an hour previously.

I felt a presence beside me, and turned, surprised, as I was knocked out of my reverie. It was a woman; girl, I guess. And then it clicked. "Louis' girlfriend, right?" I said. 

She nodded, rolling her eyes as she did so. Clearly she was a little fed up of being referred to as 'Louis' girlfriend'. Louis was clearly one of the better players, although the extent to which I was responsible for that, I couldn't be sure; as we watched her boyfriend play, I chatted idly with her, about many banal and inconsequential things, all the while with the taste of her boyfriends tangy cock-flesh still fresh on my mind.

When the game ended, Louis and Niall made a beeline for me, and the rest of the group grudgingly followed, with Harry moving the most grudgingly of all.

"Never played so good. In. My. LIFE!" Said a clearly enthused Louis, as he wrapped his hand around his girlfriend's waist.

"Yes, very impressive," I replied, not really knowing what I was talking about. Niall laughed at my reaction.

Liam spoke to Harry, "mate, would you have a shower or something? You fucking stink after that game!"

Harry snapped back angrily, "fuck you! I'm just a bit sweaty, is all."

Laughing, I tried to create some semblance of order, "now now, boys, let's play nice, shall we?" The boys quietened down, and we had split into two distinct groups; me, Louis and Niall in one, and Liam, Zayn and Harry in other, and we didn't really mix as we made our way into the house.

As Louis and his girlfriend were whispering sweet nothings to each other, I asked Niall, "so how do you think you did, Niall?"

"I did great! Scored the winning goal, didn't I?"

I laughed, "yes, good point." I honestly hadn't noticed that fact; think I was looking at Liam's shorts at the time, but I did notice Niall's constant demands for affirmation from authority figures - something I could certainly make use of, I thought. 

I wondered if it might change once he got himself into a regular fuck schedule with Harry. There's no better affirmation that the affirmation gained from completely sexually dominating a peer, I find.

After a few minutes, we'd made our way into the house, and most of the boys went upstairs to change. I got myself a glass of red wine, and watched the chaps scurry off to get changed. 

As instructed, Harry hung around downstairs, not really seeing the need to get changed.

As I stood by the kitchen worktop, I observed Niall walk up to Harry, and say something to him. Harry rolled his eyes as though annoyed, and began to follow Niall upstairs. 

I thought for a minute. 

And then I waited a few minutes more. And then I put my glass of wine down, and made my way to the staircase. I knew what they were doing of course; although I couldn't quite believe that Niall was horny again ALREADY.

I knew that being lazy-ass kids, they'd go to the closest of their bedrooms, which was Harry's. I thought there was a chance of the door being locked, but kids with sex on their minds can often forget such fundamentally important concepts such as security, and privacy. 

Standing before the door, I got out my camera phone, and selected the right setting. Placing my hand on the door handle, I turned and opened it suddenly, swinging it open, and taking first one, then two, and then three pictures of Harry on all fours like a dog, with Niall mounting him, his cock midway up Harry's well-used hole. 

By the third picture, they'd had the good grace to turn and look directly at the camera, open mouthed and wide-eyed, so there could be no mistaking their identities.

"Well, this is a turn up for the books," I said as I walked in and closed the door - locking it as I did so.

"What the fuck-"

Harry had begun to speak, before I interjected, sniggering as I did so, "Harry, please, don't even try to blind me with your smug holier-than-thou faux-superiority complex bourne out a clear realisation of your obvious inferiorities; you're current position really destroys any credibility you might have in that regard."

Niall was speechless, and still had the same expression my camera captured about 30 seconds ago. "I like girls," he said simply, voice shaking as he did so.

"Yeah. Well, you've got a funny way of showing it, kid."

"I...don't...this is just...just letting off steam. He," he nodded towards Harry, "he doesn't mind, really."

"Ah, I see. So Harry's the queer?"

"NO!" Said Harry.

"YES!" Said Niall.

"I have to say Harry, you ARE the one with a dick up your arse. I mean, straight guys like Niall here have needs, like all of us. It's pretty obvious to me that you're essentially in the group to provide sexual relief for the rest."

"Oh fuck off," said Harry.

"No, Harry, YOU fuck off. See, all I just said - I'll be sure to say it when I hand over these pictures as an anonymous 'show insider'."

Colour began to drain from his face. Niall was slowly beginning to pull his softening dick out of Harry's rump. I said calmly whilst pointing at him, "stay right where you fucking are, Niall," at which point Niall shoved himself back in, causing Harry to wince. 

"Now, of course," I continued, "it needn't be like that. Every man has his price, and I have mine."

"We ain't got no fucking money," replied Harry, still on his hands and knees with his friends fat dick stuffed up his ass, which made the 'negotiations' all the more amusing for me.

"No. Well, we'll just have to figure out some other payment system, now won't we?"

Ten minutes later, I left the room, my negotiations with the fuck buddies having been concluded to my satisfaction, if not their own. I made my way down stairs for lunch. A few of the contestants and staff were seated around the large wooden table. 

Several white tablecloths were used to cover the large expanse of the table, with them spilling over the edge of the table and coming about halfway down to the floor, right the way around it.

Louis' girlfriend, as a 'guest of honour', was seated at the head of one end of the table. Her boyfriend was sitting next to her, on the corner. Louis was still dressed in his football kit...I don't know what they did upstairs, but they clearly didn't have much time to change. 

I got the seat on Louis' left, who was holding his girlfriends hand over the table. The size of the table and the space between places meant that whilst he was on the corner, he was fairly far from the corner itself, and consequentially, from the little lady.

It was for this reason that I knew I could safely whisper to him that he should ignore whatever I did, just act completely normally, and answer my questions. He frowned for a moment, his conscious mind obviously not happy, but then nodded in agreement as my previous instructions kicked in. 

As I ran my hand up and down his hairy thigh, I asked him to tell me why he hadn't gotten changed, like everyone else. Looking over his shoulder, I could see his girlfriend was now talking to Harry, who was seated on the other side of her, opposite Louis, looking rather flushed.

Louis whispered to me that he and the woman had gone to his room to have sex, but didn't have enough time for him to cum. She'd cum, though, so couldn't see much of a problem. Bitch. 

"Well, I hardly think it's fair that she'd left you hanging like that, Louis. As a medical professional, I can tell you that blue balls is a serious condition. I tell you about if we try and work that load out of you now? You'd like that, right?"

"Um...well..." he looked around. "If you want, I suppose..."

I squeezed his thigh in appreciation. "Good lad. Well, first things first; why don't you go to the bathroom now, and take off your boxers for me? That'll make access a lot easier."

"Um. Yeah. Ok." He stood up suddenly, looking confused and unhappy about the situation, clearly not entirely
understanding why he's complying with my instructions.

"Oh, Louis," I said as an afterthought, "remember to put your shorts back on afterwards, eh? Don't want to make a fool of yourself." The young man dutifully sulked off to the upstairs bathroom, and I got a hardon.

I leaned over the table, "excuse me," I said to the girlfriend.
"Harry, can I speak to you in the kitchen, please."

The two of us stood up to leave, and walked into a kitchen which was slightly busier than usual, with a group of three women buzzing around getting lunch ready.

There were four platters on a countertop, each with raw sliced carrots, crisps and dips. I ate a crisp, attracting the derision of one of the older ladies. "Oi! Leave them alone! They're supposed to be on the table."

"Sorry," I replied humbly. Old battleaxe. What is it with women? Put them in front of a stove and they turn into Idi Amin. Harry leaned into a countertop, at the point where it intersected another countertop at a right angle. I stood to his right. "So what happened upstairs, Harry?"

"What the...dude, just leave me alone. I don't want to talk about it."

I grabbed his arm. "Well that's a right royal fucking shame, twat, because you're going to start talking about it in far greater detail then you would like. Either to me, or to a journalist - your choice."

"Ok, ok, alright - he fucked me, ok? Happy?" I was, actually.

"Problem?" I swung around, pulling Harry closely to my side and wrapping my arm around him, seeing Simon.

"No. No problem." I said, a little bit scared. I began nibbling on one of the carrot sticks beside me, more out of nervousness then hunger.

"You ok Harry?" Simon looked concerned. Harry looked like he had seen better days. I knew for a fact that his arsehole had seen better days. He nodded glumly.

"Yeah. A bit...depressed."

"I see." He looked at me. "You've spent a bit of time with Harry today...why don't you give him some breathing room?"

My rage was total, but I smiled and gave my ascent. "Sure."

Simon slowly turned and walked out to take a seat - probably at the other head of the table, the tosser. 

Myself and Harry moved as two of the women took two of the platters out to the front, with the one remaining woman frantically stirring a big pot of something or other, bubbling away on the stove at the other end of the kitchen.

As the women turned their backs, I made sure the remaining one was preoccupied with the cooking before taking a blunt carrot stick from a remaining platter, reaching down the back of Harry's trackies and boxers, and drove the still-cold orange root vegetable cleanly up his arse, causing him to leap forward and yelp, and making this an even worse day for his arsehole then it was originally. 

The woman didn't notice.

I grabbed his arm, and frogmarched him towards the dining room. 

"Consider that the only warning you will get before I sell those fucking pictures," I said, adding, "and because of your actions just now, fuckhead, I will at some point today demand a token of compliance from you. If you do not provide it, I will sell the pictures, and do everything possible to destroy you. Do you understand."

"Hmm," he said, his voice shaking. By this point we had entered the dining room, and my grip loosened to become a good natured push, to get him to sit down. 

As Harry sat, I observed Simon watching me, and smiled. He didn't return the smile.

I sat down myself, back in my original seat, with Louis looking at me angrily.

"Where the fuck were you?" He demanded.

"Just filling Harry in on something," I said, nodding my head towards the boy opposite me; Harry heard, and turned beet red. "Why?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?" I frowned, and looked down at his low hand, containing his designer Tommy Hilfiger boxer-briefs.

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Yeah. I forgot about that. Don't you have any pockets?"

He gave me a pained expression of annoyance. After I looked and remembered he was in soccer shorts (they were currently obscured by the table-cloth, which removed his entire legs from view - that's my story for forgetting, and I'm sticking to it), I chuckled. 

"Oh, I see. Yes, my mistake. Well..." I paused, as if thinking of this for the first time, "I...SUPPOSE...I could look after them for you?"

"Yeah. Just fucking take them." He thrust the warm boxers into my hand, and he turned to smile at his girlfriend, as if embarrassed. Can't think why. I put them in my pocket, before returning my right hand to Louis' warm inner thigh. I heard his voice falter slightly as he spoke to the girlfriend.

He didn't react as I began to slowly run my hand up and down, up and down, from his knee up to the hem of his shorts, quietly talking to Aiden Grimshaw on my left as I did so. I could see out the corner of my eye Harry fidgeting on his seat. I had to fight to contain my laughter. 

On my hand's upward journey, rather than turning back and returning to the lads knee, I continued up, into the dark recesses of his shorts, pushing them up as I did so, until my hand rested near his hip, with his cock gently firming up against my knuckles, and his left bollock snuggling up against my hard finger nails.

We each continued our separate conversations, albeit his at a slightly higher pitch. After a few seconds of getting the lay of the land, and looking at everyone around the table idly chatting, I moved my right hand up and over his entire package, forcefully scooping his semi-hard cock and full ballbag out into the cool air, hooking the hem of his shorts down by the hairy base of his meat. 

For the first time, I slowly wrapped my hand around the lovely thick shaft of his cock, taking ownership of him in the process. 

I felt him initially tense, before slouching down into his chair, spreading his legs as he did so (I felt his left knee bang into my right knee), presumably in a search for greater security from prying eyes, whilst also granting me greater access to his box of goodies.

Truth be told, he was reasonably safe from detection; with chairs being backed up against the wall, and us being placed furthest away from the people milling around the entrance to the kitchen, nobody was about to walk behind us and see my hand absent-mindedly rooting around his crotch, and his entire lower half was obscured by the white tablecloth, meaning nobody could see the fact I'd pulled his furry meat and potatoes out into the open air.

People could always notice the smell however; whilst most of the people around the table had showered, Louis, Harry and Niall obviously hadn't - I didn't know if what I could smell was emanating from Louis' groin, or Harry and Niall's sex funk, but it turned me on regardless. 

Slowly moving my hand down, into his tangled mass of pubes, and then up, over the fat knob surrounded his loose foreskin, I began the always satisfying job of methodically milking the boy. 

He had stopped talking to his girlfriend now; or rather, had stopped listening to her, and had his eyes fixed on the starched white tablecloth before him, his hands firmly gripping the edge of the table.

We were each served plates of food; I ate my pasta with my left hand, my right being busy; Louis didn't seem too interested in his food. As I picked up speed, I felt his ass slowly begin to rub back and forth on the polished wooden chair. 

His breathing became shallower, but he was clearly trying to keep it under control. 

What he hadn't anticipated however, was my ability to keep his straight-boy dick under my control, and once his thrusting became forceful enough to tell me he was agonisingly close, I released him, just as his girlfriend looked over and said, "eat up, babe; it's getting cold."

He picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat pasta the way cretins do: with a knife and fork. I continued to just use my fork, as my other hand had now moved deeper between his legs, and was fondling his nuts as we both ate. 

When I first gripped them, weighing them up in my hand (bigger than Harry's, smaller than Niall's, in-case you're wondering - I know I was), he choked on his food slightly; but once he got accustomed to my ballplay, he simply sat there, legs spread, eating calmly whilst I made use of his well-developed teenage sex-organs for my own enjoyment.

He still had a look of wide-eyed wonder on his face, though. Twirling a bunch of hairs on his sack together between my thumb and forefinger, I playfully yanked at them, causing his whole body to perceptibly move in my direction. I did this for a couple of minutes. 

I finished my meal before he finished his; but I was hardly going to wait for him, so my hand once again returned to wanking his cock for him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, indicating he was clearly happy with this new development. I was worried that he might of gone off the boil, but he clearly liked having his balls played with, because he was still rock hard. 

After a couple of minutes, my hand was slick with the juice he was constantly drizzling onto the chair, like a leaky tap. When he was once again reached the point of no return, I slowed, causing him to look at me, and then stopped altogether; his knuckles went white with frustration.

I extracted my hand from his sweaty groin, and methodically licked my palm, and my fingers. This caught the attention of Harry, who shook his head in embarrassment, and the girlfriend, who looked puzzled. "Finger lickin' good," I said with a smile, as I continued to lick up her boyfriends prejizz from my overworked hand. 

She looked at Louis, who looked toward the floor, and Harry, who just stared at me, before laughing it off. Returning my hand below the table, I gripped Louis' thigh with purpose, and hooked it over my own right thigh, causing him to slip further down into his chair, so everything below the top of his abs was obscured by the tablecloth.

This gave me the opportunity to run my hand up under his T-Shirt, my palm gliding over his cock in the process, causing it to pulse and spurt out another dribble of pre, and feel those nicely defined abdominals, coated in just a fine, imperceptible peach-fuzz.

I prodded and squeezed them for a few minutes, during which time he sat, heavily slouched in his chair, wordlessly observing my hand play underneath his top, like a dog with its master, watching what he does and wondering what he'll do next.

I returned to his groin, gripping his cock firmly, and wanking him off for the third time, no doubt with him hoping that I'd let him ejaculate on this occasion. My hand passed over his head again and again, as I alternated between quick, and slow, gentle, and firm.

He was now openly gyrating his entire lower body into and out of my hand, as I used my other hand to keep a firm grip on the thigh draped over my leg. His hands remained fixed on the edge of the table. 

As he got close, I once again left his cock high and wet, causing him to let out a frustrated moan, and garnering the attention of about a third of the table. 

Leaning forward in my chair, I gained the leverage and position necessary to move my right hand straight down, scoop his balls out of the way, and shove two blunt fingers deep into his ass, making a beeline for his prostate.

Once I'd grazed it, that triggered him to fire bolt after bolt of jizz, with a good number of people looking straight at him as he looked at the ceiling, eyes tightly shut, doing everything possible to control his convulsions.

I unceremoniously unhooked Louis' firm hairy thigh from my own leg with the words, "better out then in, Louis. You'll feel better for that." He was still breathing heavily, and had a sheen of perspiration on his face as he sat there.

I still had to make sure I had properly corrected Harry earlier, and I was also somewhat crestfallen that I hadn't managed to sample young Louis' spunk, in contravention of my private ambitions to get the flavour of the entire group.

Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I spoke to Louis after a minute or so. "Louis, put your cock away, then get up and inform Harry that I want him to go, with you, to the bathroom. I'll be along shortly."

Louis stood and walked around the table. I saw him whisper to Harry, and the look of annoyance on Harry's face confirmed that he had properly conveyed my message. 

I watched Harry stand and chuckled when I saw what he apparently hadn't seen - that a not insubstantial amount of Louis' cream had impacted the bottom of his dark track pants.

I didn't say anything, and watched as the two lads went to the downstairs bathroom, just on the other side of the kitchen. I waited a few minutes and followed them. 

Passing through the kitchen, I saw some sort of desert being prepared; I didn't even know we were getting any. A bland-looking steamed sponge pudding and custard, by the looks of it. 

How boring.

Reaching the bathroom, I turned the knob and opened it, finding the two boys waiting for me; Harry, because he had blackmailed into doing whatever I said, and Louis, because he felt intense fear whenever he considered not doing whatever I said. 

Louis was sitting on the toilet, whilst Harry was standing by a bath. "Hello chaps," I said as I closed and locked the door behind me.

Harry said nothing, whereas Louis said in elevated volume, "as soon as he was in here, he tried to take his fuckin trousers off! The bloody queer!"

"Oh shut up Louis, I was takin' 'em off because I've got a carrot up my arse!"

Louis pointed at him, open mouthed and wide-eyed, "see! I told you he was a queer!"

Harry was about to angrily respond, before I interjected to take charge of the situation. "Boys. Please. There are people just on the other side of this door, and you might want to keep your sexual peccadillo's to yourself, Harry."


I pointed at him. "Shut. Up. Now, if you'd quit your fucking whining, you'll see what I've called you here for isn't that big a fucking deal. Louis, move." 

The boy stood and remained standing besides the toilet. I took the seat he'd just vacated, and pulled down his shorts, and Harry's trackies and boxers. 

I turned Harry round, and chortled when I saw the end of the bright orange carrot sticking out of his anus. Rather then remove it, I spun him back round, causing him to curse me for leaving it in there still.

He insisted, "it fucking tickles!" I just ignored him, instead choosing to lazily lick up the soft chunky stem of his moist, flavoursome cock, nibbling on the base and his pubes, themselves infused with both his natural boy scent and the remains of the two loads I'd supervised out of him in the four hours since he'd got up. 

Reaching around and cupping his muscular ass cheeks, I pulled him further into me, slipping the entire cock into my mouth as his foreskin slid back, revealing his cummy head to my moist mouth once again.

I could see out the corner of my eye Louis quietly masturbating himself as he watched us; I reached over, and once again massaged his balls as he worked his knob. 

As he began to lengthen in my mouth, I had to admit that I enjoyed Harry's cock the most. I particularly liked how he attained another forceful erection within minutes of entering my wet mouth.

My intention was not to make him cum, but to enjoy myself; this was more about my pleasure rather then his, although as a side effect, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, standing there with his hands on my head, eyes closed. 

He was unknowingly humming, or whining, when my tongue swiped his head, savouring the residue there. 

After about six minutes, Harry was once again close.

I quietly removed my mouth from his cock before he came, causing him to throw insults in my direction once again. I'd smack him, if I wasn't on my knees; so instead, I put his cock back in my mouth, and bit down on the fucker, causing him to yelp out in pain. 

I asked him whilst now wanking Louis' cock, "do you remember me telling you to shut up, Harry?"

"Yes," he replied, unhappily.

"Then do it."

I turned back to Louis, who was standing in the middle of the bathroom with his shorts around his knees, putting first one hairy man-nut in my mouth, and then another, as I sucked the stale, cold sweat from the afternoons game that was still clinging to the myriad of hairs coating his sack, like a coconut.

After a few minutes, I let his gonads plop out of my mouth, and licked each one in turn before running my tongue up from his balls, along the stem demarking the side of his thick, tasty shaft, before reaching the bulbous summit of his knob. 

I wrapped my lips around it tightly, sucking his head like a contented baby whilst corkscrewing the shaft methodically. Louis, horny dripper that he was, provided me with a continuous taste sensation in the form of the nut juice continually basting his head - and my tongue - with natural lube.

He put up with my assault admirably, until I performed that dastardliest of dastardly tricks when sucking off straight boys - I surreptitiously clamped my hands on his high, sporty arse, and slipped an uncompromising, thick digit up his hole, once again finding his orgasm button, and pressing it firmly. 

He took a couple of steps forward, lodging his thick cock down my throat, and began firing once again, moaning deeply as he did so. 

The first two shots went straight down my throat; but I managed to withdraw enough to taste the rich thick texture and almost accrid saltiness of the third, fourth and fifth, whilst using my hands to work out a syrupy, bland sixth.

I slowly removed my mouth from his cock, and pulled up his shorts.
"Get back to your chair," I said between deep breaths, "they'll be serving pudding in a bit."

We'd only been gone about 10 minutes, but the sooner we were back, the better. He opened the door, and I saw the kitchen staff heading out to the dining room, to pick up the empty crockery. I hoped the semi that was tenting Louis' shorts had abated by the time he got to the dining room.

"You," I said, getting to my feet and standing before Harry, "still have your little task to perform for me. And you're going to perform it now," I said as I returned to wanking him.

"What? But-"

"Yeah, I know - you deduced that your task of compliance was putting up with me giving you an orgasm. Well sorry, Columbo, but your task is actually a little less easy on you. You're going to go out there," I said, pointing to the door which would lead to the kitchen, "and you will cum what you have remaining in those nuts of yours into the custard."


"You'd best get moving, sunshine; the women won't be too keen to see you do it, and they won't be out of the kitchen forever."

"So if I don't do this..."

"You'll be ruined. And your friends will all think you take it up the arse. And the tabloids will forever talk about you as the lad who went on X-Factor because he really wanted to suck off boys from the telly."

"Jesus Christ," his face was white, as though he was an actual corpse, and his cock began to wilt.

"MOVE! Don't you understand? You HAVE to do this, right now, and you don't have much time! SO MOVE!" My shouting roused him into action, and he ran from the room. I took a moment to comb my hair in the mirror; a bit of a state after those blowjobs.

After I was happy with it, I opened the door, and quietly closed it, walking down the short hallway to see in the kitchen the site I had originally envisioned; Harry, trackies around his fit thighs, kneeling whilst furiously masturbating into a big pot of custard he'd taken off the stove and put on the floor. 

I did the obvious; took out my phone and took a couple of pictures, before creeping up behind him, quietly kneeling, and both gripping his shoulder whilst pushing the entire carrot up his arse, his puckered hole swallowing it like the slick mouth of a snake - the carrot obviously hit SOMETHING, because he started squirting his seed into the yellow custard.

He quickly put the pot back on the stove, and pulled up his trousers. I walked over and peered into the pot, seeing the great big white deposit square in the middle of the yellow custard. A quick stir with a spoon soon changed that, however.

"What are you doing to my custard?!" One the women was just walking through the door with a big tray of plates.

"Just giving it a stir," I said, as I manoeuvred a still shell-shocked Harry back to his chair.

The pudding of sponge and custard came out a few minutes later. Whilst there was some criticism that the custard tasted salty, I thought the addition made what was otherwise a very boring desert into something far more exciting. 

I don't think the others would've seen it like that, however, so I kept the extra ingredient to myself - I knew that Harry, the young lad who's overworked bollocks had produced it, would be happy to keep this particular secret.

As well as various others. I smiled as I watched everyone around the table, including Louis, Niall, Zayn, Liam and a reluctant and VERY fidgety Harry, tuck in.

Others in this Series:


  1. I came upon something interesting (to me) in this story that is NOT sex-related, but I wanted to mention it. At one point, you write "The boys quietened down,...", and I recall that the word "quietened" came to my attention long ago when I was reading an article by an English writer. At that time, the word struck me as odd, as wrong. I thought to myself, surely that is a typo and should be "quieted". I checked the dictionary and couldn't find "quietened" there either. After some additional research I discovered that "quietened" is quite correct IN THE UK. It is a British-ism (so to speak) that isn't seen much here in the U.S. I am only pointing this out as a curiosity, certainly NOT to criticize your spelling. After all, you guys were speaking English ages before the USA was ever thought of! :D Now, back to the FUCKING HOT story...

  2. What can I say that I haven't said before? BOIINNG! DAM, I sure like how the doc torments Harry's and Louis's teen junk in bedrooms, dining rooms and bathrooms. He makes those lads suffer for their orgasms...and he does it WITHOUT stripping them bareass naked! I desperately want to get INTO these scenarios. I'll help the shrink!

  3. Scott; yes, I have quite a few American friends and colleagues, and it would sound quite wrong for them to say 'quietened', so I can certainly imagine how odd it must seem to you when reading it. But it is quite a common turn-of-phrase in the UK.

    And yes, he does make them suffer for