A New Direction For One Direction 5: Liam Payne - The Hunky One

In this explosive finale, the Doctor moves in on Liam Payne, and in the process creates a night that none of the boys will ever forget.

The powers that be learnt that I was in the vicinity when the lads were late out on stage for the show on the 13th November, and consequently had come to the conclusion that I was a bad influence on them, and my pass was revoked as a result. I was also not to see them for professional reasons. In theory.

In theory. What the show's producers didn't know, was that I had corrupted or co-opted all of the boys, save one. This led to the realisation of two facts.
 

Firstly, I was too far gone to simply give up now, with just one of the boy's charms remaining to be discovered, and secondly, it now didn't matter what the show's producers wanted or demanded; I had a route to all the boys through four of them.

Utilising my contacts to get access to hunky Liam would prove difficult, however. I had to spend a good week thinking about it; they were holed up in that big house, and I couldn't exactly knock on the door now that I was persona non grata.
 

I did hit upon an idea, however - which took a few days to perfect and create. To put my plan into action, I called up Harry, and instructed him to meet me at a local supermarket, knowing that whilst he would be driven out of the house, he would be free to go to the shops on his own.

Thursday November 18th 2010
Needless to say, I was waiting for him - in the vegetable section, which I felt he'd know the location of, given his recent sexploits.
 

I had a basket with me (might as well get some sundries), and observed the door, seeing him walk through the automatic doors dressed in a loose pair of silver tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a hoodie with the hood up, no doubt trying to obscure his now well-known face.
 

He looked typically fresh-faced and wide-eyed. Glancing around to find me, he saw me down one of the aisles ostensibly admiring cauliflowers, and approached.
 

We exchanged pleasantries, acting like we were good friends - an uncle and nephew, perhaps, with him looking round furtively every thirty seconds or so to see if anyone had recognised him.

As we chatted, I alternated my gaze between his impish face, and his packed groin; he noticed, but didn't complain.
 

He knew I'd be interested in that region, as I'd specifically asked him to come out without any underpants, and I was delighted to see the hump of his semi-erect length running just to the left of the centre seam of his trackies.
 

His horned up state reminded me of the fact that I'd told him not to wank, and wondered how well he'd kept up the 'regimen'.
 

It then struck me of course, that even though he's an attractive, nicely built sixteen year old straight boy, I didn't need to wonder; I could just ask him. "How's the wanking going?"

He returned his gaze to meet mine. "I ain't been doing it, if that's what you mean."

"I see."

"But-"

"But?"

"But, I've been cumming in my sleep. And there's nothing I can do about that! It's not my fault."

I smiled, realising how much of a bitch he'd become. "No, I suppose not. That can't win you any friends at the house, though."

"Nah, the jizz stinks out the place. The cleaners - all old women, standard - run a lottery on who gets to change my sheets each morning. Horny old cows," he said with a cocky grin.

"Old women, eh? Not really your type, then?"

"Nope. I prefer 'em younger. They're like, forty, or fifty - as old as you."

I nodded at his seemingly unintentional insult. "Hmm. I see. Well, how long's it been since your last cum, then?"

He furrowed his brow in contemplation. "Three...no, four days."

Just at that moment, the two of us were distracted by a group of giggling girls pointing in our direction. I assumed their interest was in Harry rather than myself, and this was proven to be the case when he raised his hand in a wave and smiled at them, causing them to practically scream and faint before running off.
 

I enjoyed the spectacle, looking down and seeing Harry's unruly cock flex with need through his trousers, producing a small, barely noticeable damp patch near the fat head. "Must be hard," I said, my gaze fixed.

"What do you mean, exactly?" He asked, knowingly.

"Oh, just being so horny and having girls come on to you all the time..." I nodded down to his groin, smiling as I did so, "just...must be hard."

He laughed, looking down in embarrassment, before he looked again at me, his face hardened in scowl. "What do you want?"

"Oh, just the usual," I replied, still grinning. Putting a basket down on a large pallet of Diet Cola, I pulled him by his hoodie down a small hallway - he stumbled initially, but didn't make a scene as he came with me into the gents toilet at the end of the hallway.
 

I pushed him against a wall, and ran my left hand up under his hoodie, along his smooth flanks and up to his pointy little titties, pinching first one and then the other until I felt them begin to harden.

I thrust my other hand down his trackies, jiggling his sweaty balls in the palm of my hand. He looked at me the whole time, fairly impassively; he tried to maintain his composure, but his horn made him perspire, and breath heavier than usual.
 

I began stroking him, the insides of his trackies becoming sticky with thick, clear juice.
 

I think we were both turned on by the fact anyone could walk in at any moment, and I was about to push him to his knees when the door opened and, at that moment, someone did indeed walk in.

Thankfully, there was a small alcove from the door to the urinals, giving me the second I needed to extract my hands and begin walking to the sink.
 

Harry stayed where he was, in shock, I think, but the guy who walked in at least seemed unfazed by the thick teen cock jutting out of his tracksuit pants almost at a painful-looking ninety degree angle.

I motioned for Harry to follow me out of the toilets; as fun as it was, I was far too terrified to carry on where we left off in one of the cubicles, and besides, I got a certain sick pleasure from wanking an already randy teen, but without taking him to the completion he craved.

Once we were out of the toilets and back in the aisles of the supermarket, I handed him a package - well, a plastic bag. "You know what to do with this, don't you? It's important you don't fuck it up."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You told me, like, a billion times."

"Yeah. Well, do it right."

Harry turned around, very publically adjusting his cock in his trousers as he did so, and walked out without saying another word.
 

I didn't like being so reliant on him, but there was little else I could do. And besides, if my plan failed, the only person who'd take the blame for it was Harry.
 

As  out of favour as I was at ITV, I don't think their dislike would extend to them believing Harry's story, were he to be discovered, that I'd covertly hypnotised a group of four straight boys into having gay sex with me, and had blackmailed Harry into admitting more jism and objects into his body then most whores do in a lifetime.
 

No...I was quite safe.

Sunday 12th December, 2010
The big day. Day of decision. I thought it would be particularly fitting to 'meet' Liam after the show. I envisaged the chances of the group winning as better-than-average; but whether they were winners or losers, it didn't alter my plan to make Liam my fit little bitch.

I had spoken to the other boys individually over Harry's phone, who I instructed to suggest and be highly supportive of leaving the studio straight after they got off stage, and go to one of the many hotels in Central London to celebrate.
 

Liam, of course, was not instructed in the same way, but I believed that peer pressure would compel him to go along with it. They were to get five rooms, but congregate in one room, ostensibly to get drunk via the room's well-stocked minibar.
 

Once this happened, Harry was to call me, telling me the hotel, and the room number. I was sat in a wine bar, not far from their location, when my phone tinkled, with Harry on the other end. He informed me of the hotel and the room at around 11pm.
 

It was now or never.
 

I got in my car, and made my way to the hotel.

Being a well-dressed white male, it was no problem at all to stride through the ornate, if under-populated lobby and make for the lift, as though I were a guest.
 

I smiled at the single fellow who stood behind the large reception desk, and who smiled in return. In a few minutes, I was stood before the door of the room Harry had given me.

I knocked. After a few seconds, the door opened, and a confused looking Louis was stood there, glass of some spirit or other in his hand, and still in his show clothes of dark trousers, cream T-Shirt and an open blue shirt - they must of literally come straight from the show.
 

"Oh, hello," he said.
 

Obviously, he had been told to avoid contact with me, but thankfully, my instructions to him previously whilst in a trance held greater sway in his mind then the instructions of ITV. I heard the raucous boys continuing to shout and holler at one another, indicating they weren't aware of my presence.

"Hello, Louis. I think I'm expected. And I believe you and the boys know what to do now, yes?"

"Yeah." I took his drink out of his hand, and sipped it; JD and coke. A little understrength, for my liking.

"Lead on then, boy."

Louis turned and walked into the room, with me closely behind. I made sure to close and lock the door. The boys were lying around a fairly small, if well appropriated lounge, with two sofas and a TV. 

The TV was on some music channel.
 

Niall and Zayn were sat on one sofa, each dressed in dark denim jeans, light T-Shirts and zip-up hoodies of varying colour, whilst Harry was immersed in a most out-of-place beanbag put in one corner of the room, attired in smart tan trousers and T-Shirt, and Liam was stretched out on his back on the other sofa, dressed in a T-shirt and baggy black jeans with his feet perched over the end of the sofa, trainers off, revealing an eclectic pair of fluorescent green socks.

The boys were laughing at something or other on the TV when I walked in, but all turned silent as soon as they saw me. For Liam, this was because he didn't know who the fuck I was. For the others, it was because my programming was kicking in. If I was Liam, I'd of moved.

Thankfully, I wasn't Liam, and he didn't move a muscle as the boys, as one, stood and somewhat robotically moved toward him, with each holding down a finely formed limb, effectively pinning him to the sofa.
 

He tried to scramble up at the last minute, "wha...is this a joke-lemme go!" he shouted, but it was too late; against four big, strong boys acting without conscious, he didn't stand a chance.

With a boy in each corner of the sofa, there was enough room for me to perch myself beside Liam's midsection. The fear in his blue eyes was obvious.
 

"Don't worry, Liam," I began, "you'll grow to enjoy it, just like the others. Now..." I surveyed his body like it was a slab of beef. "Let's see what we have to work with."

I slowly slid my hand under the hem of his cotton T-Shirt, looking at his face as I did so. He was looking down at my hand intently, as though it were a hot poker...whilst I did intend to introduce him to the odd hot poker, that time was not now.
 

He really started struggling when I touched him, tensing and straining his formidable upper body muscle as he did so; this was delightful for me, with my finger tips grazing across his tightly defined little six pack and stroking his fuzzy golden treasure trail, but quite futile for him - his friends just held him down more firmly.

"He's a fighter!" said Niall, which made Zayn snigger.
 

The boys were all looking intently, either in homosexual lust or heterosexual curiosity - I didn't know which - at Liam's crotch. Quite pointless, of course; his trousers were so baggy that he could've had a cucumber stuffed down there, and you wouldn't of known.
 

Besides, I knew that regardless of the situation, Liam should be plenty horny by now.

I knew this because of what I had given Harry in the supermarket, almost a month ago. A CD of whiny whale-song type music, which I personally couldn't stand but knew would probably appeal to Liam's typical modern well moulded teen boy ethos of save-the-children, help-the-baboons, and get-the-Bangladeshi's-to-make-my-Reeboks-even-more-cheaply type attitude.
 

Harry was under instructions to ensure Liam would listen to it every  night, whilst he was sleeping.

Unknown to Liam, the music obscured a monotone voice, relaying various instructions into his subconscious; this indoctrination, whilst highly unorthodox, had been well explored during the Cold War, and had a generally excellent track record.

It was to be sold to Liam on the basis that it'd done Harry's nerves a world of good, and would probably help him, too. Knowing how competitive the two boys were, Liam would almost certainly do anything to improve his 'performance'.

Whilst it did contain elements to improve his musical performance, it also, shall we say, served to stunt his performance in other areas - one demand was that Liam would be unable to get an erection or ejaculate unless another man was working on him.
 

Being straight, of course, this meant that he hadn't cum in a month or so. But I imagined, like Harry, he'd left little night-time deposits for cleaners to find.

However, the CD's sublayer was mostly concerned with more fundamental alterations to Liam. Vast tracts of the CD was dedicated to ensuring that Liam's mind would believe whatever I instructed it to believe, once I had properly identified myself with a special key-phrase.

Oh, and yes, you're right. I could've uttered the key-phrase at any point since entering the room; I was putting him through this, just for shits and giggles, really. As...an exercise in control. It's weird how mental sadism has become a big part of my life since I started dominating these teens.

My trailing hand, having satisfied itself with the gentle ridges of the boys firm abdomen, started to slide up, up his firm chest, whilst my other hand grasped, squeezed, and ran along the length of his bicep. Both were still straining furiously, in an effort to break free from his bondage.

Muscles on teens are funny things. They work out all day and night to get them, and they are always so gently defined; so yielding. Not like the musculature of an older, worked-out man - which is hard, and like running your hand across a mountain range.

Liam was exactly in that mould; not Mr. Universe, but certainly well-sculpted, smooth, and fresh.

"Stop...it..." he said to me, for the first time since I'd entered the room, through gritted teeth.

Reaching the lower ridge of his pectoral, my hand slid up across the final furlong, settling in the centre of the warm muscle, with my enquiring finger-pad slowly doing laps around his areola, occasionally scratching it for him with the unkempt nail.

"No," I replied, with confident smile.

I ran my hand away from his bicep and up under his arm, and into the dank confines of his armpit, still beneath the T-Shirt. Swirling the fine hairs around my fingers, I withdrew, sniffed, and licked them.
 

They smelt mostly of deodorant, but his exertions had produced the subtle, baser scent of the lad, and this, I enjoyed savouring.

With my fingers now wet, I slid my hand back into the arm of his T-Shirt, across to his other pectoral, and squeezed his nipple, hard, twisting as I did so.

He let out a pained moan, "fuckin queers," he screamed, showing signs that he was beginning to lose his cool - and with good reason.

By now I'd had my fill of denigrating the moody lad. Removing my hands from his taut body, I spoke the predictably ridiculous trigger phrase. "Reverend Pelast's onion emporium," which caused him to sink into a coma-like trance.
 

I motioned for the boys to let him go, which they did, and stepped back a little, Harry and Zayn absent-mindedly stroking themselves as they looked on; or Zayn might of been scratching himself.
 

I imagine he got quite a few tickles down there, given how I'd sheared him. But either way, it turned me on.

"Liam, listen to my voice, and follow my instructions, without question, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Open your eyes for me."

Liam's blue eyes fluttered open, and once again, he made a jump for it - thankfully, the boys grappled him down before he could land his powerful fist on me. "Liam, stop resisting," I instructed, and immediately the fight went out of him.

The flash of confusion and anger on his face was palpable. I once again called my little pussy hounds off, telling them it was safe to leave him be.
 

I retrieved the remote control for the TV, and turned it from the hilariously bland 'Magic' music channel to something teenagers should be a little more interested in - but to my dismay, the porn channels were all blocked.
 

"Harry, get on the phone to the front desk. Tell them you want access to...Playboy, Red Hot TV, and Television X."

Harry picked up the phone. "Um, yeah. Hello. This is, err, room 3413. We, err...the porn stuff, on the TV, can you make them come on? I...well, someone here, wants to see what it looks like. Umm...yeah, I know the cost. Yeah. No, just put it on. Um...P-Playboy, Red...Hot TV, and Television...err, X. Yeah. 'K, thanks."

Harry slammed the phone down. "Honestly - once, just FUCKING once - can you not get one of THE OTHERS to do that crap?!"
 

Ignoring him, I went on to instruct Niall to remove Louis' clothes, and Zayn to remove Harry's, and once that was done, they should swap over. I wanted to keep my own interests focussed on Liam, for the moment.

Act One: Cum One
His zip was a clunky metal one, a made a nice, crisp noise as I lowered it. My hand snaked into the warm interior of his trousers.
 

I looked at his face, which was intently looking down at my hand as I placed it squarely over his not-entirely-soft cock; it gave an unintentional little lurch in his boxers as my hand grazed the spongy tube and with my finger tips coming to rest cradling his balls.

"Well boys," I said, "he ain't soft, so I think he must like this sort of thing." Liam looked like he was about to throw up.
 

No, he really did.
 

And he was breathing heavily, which I think was due more to him being midway through some sort of panic attack, rather than being turned on.
 

With the position of my hand and the position of his cock, I couldn't tell how long he was, because I couldn't feel the end - but I took this as a good sign of the lad having an admirable length.
 

His balls were either naturally big, or bloated with all the teen spunk they contained. My admiration of teen-boys was such that I liked to think such a thing actually happened.

After getting the measure of him, I extracted my hand, and instructed him to stand before me, with his hands laced behind his head. I sat back on the now empty sofa, gripping Liam's hips and bringing him closer before me.
 

Keeping a firm hold of his hips, I could see through his zip, still open and stretched wide by my inquisitive hand, to the white boxer-briefs within.

On an impulse, I rooted my snout through the open zip of his jeans, slipping my hands round to take grip of each meaty, rounded butt-cheek in order to better control his pelvis. With a single, deep breath, I took in the carnal, robust scent of his groin, which was so overpowering it flooded my senses like an aphrodisiac.
 

There was a hint of soap, but it was dominated by the smell of vinegary bollocks and tart precum. I held my position for about 45 seconds, the bridge of my nose weighed down by the shaft of his cock, just breathing in his majesty, with my fingers digging into the seemingly unending depth of muscle over his arse.
 

He looked down on me, with pity, I think. Which I was fine with, for the moment.

Extricating my nose from the teens trousers, I unfastened the buckle of his belt, looking at the consternation on his face as I did so - consternation his brain would allow him to realise, but not allow him to act upon.
 

Once undone, his jeans sagged appreciably, revealing the waistband of his white Calvin Klein's. Slipping the button free of his jeans took a few long, arduous seconds - they were obviously brand new; probably never worn before.
 

Once undone, however, the baggy trousers collapsed to mid-thigh, and were soon joined by his boxers, all of which I pushed down his long legs and removed in a few seconds.

This left him standing there in his T-Shirt and bright green socks, which I envisioned in my mind's eye as looking particularly amusing later in the evening, when I planned to have the hunky straight boy on his back, legs pointing to heavens.

Instructing him to lift his T-Shirt and slide it back behind his neck, I could at last appreciate what a finely built stud he was.
 

His T-Shirt, bought by costume designers eager to show off his upper-body, had been moulded to the slopes of his pecs, but with it removed, I could at last see the lads undulating chest; the wide plains of his pecs, as well as the hillocks of his eight pack, all completely hairless, save for that dirty blond treasure trail.

And what treasure. His pubes, which were lush and bushy, had the same, wet-blond hue as his abdomen and pits.
 

They framed a beaut of a cock. 

Like his face, it was a completely smooth, alabaster-hued spike without any observable blue veins, and like his head (the one on his neck), it was bigger than average, and thick.
 

The sticky pink head peaked out beyond his white crusty foreskin, stiff with the little pearls of prejizz  that had seeped out and coalesced around his loose crown in just the couple of hours since his pre-show shower.

His balls were fairly tight in his sack, like two walnuts in a crinkly, silky bag.
 

Reaching up with my left hand, I gently ran my fingernails down his sack - not to turn him on; just to see if he was indeed hairless, but I detected a low, almost inaudible exhale of breath, which turned into a low growl as my nails trailed along his man-jewels, taking my first step in scratching that invisible itch for him.
 

As I suspected, he had a finely defined, soft-blond fuzz all about his sack, which I delighted in becoming better acquainted with for a few seconds.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other boys all looking on, naked, and wanking themselves with varying degrees of speed and endurance: Louis' forearm moving up and down with a well-practiced, methodical rhythm, stroking himself slowly and luxuriously, offset by Niall's skinny little wrist a blur, the good Catholic boy going at it like a jackrabbit.
 

It seemed his previous reservations concerning masturbation had been overcome, possibly during one of the many fuck sessions he and Harry had engaged in for the past several weeks.

Liam, was still stood with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. I withdrew my hands from his balls, gripping and then sliding up along the rubbery shaft of his erect prick, bunching all the skin up around the head, like a rose.
 

Letting go of the organ, the skin retracted once more, with the head peeking halfway out, wondering what the fuck was going on (the poor thing hadn't been played with for a month).
 

I ran the tip of my finger around the crown for a moment, smearing his pre over the glossy head, getting his drippings over my index finger as I massaged his sensitive glans. "oooooh," he quietly sighed, in a higher pitch than normal.

The more I moisturised it into him, the more he produced for me. I imagined he had a more then plentiful supply, but I was eager for a taste, and wanted to work a real load out of him.
 

Gripping his head, I slowly retracted the foreskin, revealing his pink bulb to the world, together with the gamey, guttural scent of it. Keeping a tight mid-shaft grip on him, my lips descended to encapsulate the head along with a quarter of the seven and a half inch shaft, with me withdrawing, sucking as I did so, until I held just the plum-like nozzle in my mouth.
 

Fluttering my tongue around his sensitive glans, the constant drizzle of sweetly spiced precum was occasionally replaced with a forced spurt, accompanied with a subtle thrusting of hips and a tensing of cock, as a reward for my efforts.

Once I had sated my thirst for juice, and wanted something creamier, my lips slid back down his salty cock, making contact with my hand at the base, which was twisting and wanking him with a firm grip.
 

Or at least, initially, with a firm grip. After a few minutes, when his hips started thrusting methodically and his breathing became ragged, my hand's pressure decreased considerably.
 

I just barely touched the shaft, whilst I lifted my face from his musky groin, and ran the very tip of my tongue along the length of his cock again and again like it were a wet candy-cane, taking up the drizzle that was still emanating from his slit.

After a thorough, but quick vacuum-sucking of each low hanging salty bollock, I returned to the pale shaft, taking him into my mouth and burying him in the back of my throat, with my nose sniffing and snorting the musky aroma of his pubes.
 

This caused the lad to stand on tiptoe in surprise, groaning loudly, and deeply, before uttering "aahhhh, FUCK."
 

His hand went to the back of my head, and pushed, mashing my face into his cock, before he withdrew himself; my hands, rubbing up and down the back of his long thighs and fine ass, revelled in the hardness of every sinew and muscle as he thrust back into me.

Pretty soon, he was face-fucking me - totally dominating me - with animalistic brutality, and I absolutely loved it. Pretty soon, the inevitable happened, and he started unloading into my mouth; the contents of his balls was propelled into me, spurt after creamy, flavoursome spurt, thick with protein and millions of little Liam's.
 

Once he started to come down off the plateau of his orgasm, marked with two or three gentler, but still delicious jets of sperm coating my mouth and tongue, he withdrew his fine meat tube from my mouth, leaving me with a mouthful of zesty, warm, Liam-branded double-cream smoothie.

I gulped some of it down, relishing the tasty, viscous liquid sliding down my gullet - I had to, lest I not breath - but I quickly sought to regain control of the situation.
 

Not easy when you've got a mouthful of a teenagers sperm, with the teenager still standing there before you, you might think - but I stood and with the boy standing there, his eyes closed in a post-orgasmic high, I roughly kissed him on the lips.
 

I forced my tongue past his pearly white teeth, and returned some of his straight-boy spunk back to him, causing his eyes to open wide in horror - but unable to do anything about it, due more to the hand I had fixed to the back of his head, rather than any more subtle hypnotic suggestions.

After a slow, lingering kiss, which saw his tongue dart this way and that in an effort to avoid mine, I slowly withdrew, with him breaking free of my grasp and falling back a couple of steps, losing his balance, and falling onto his back.
 

As he propped himself up on his elbows to look at me through his splayed legs, I saw his expression was one of revulsion, but his randy prick was half-hard. Had it ever been soft? I didn't think to check. Either way, it was obvious what was going to happen next.

Act Three, Cum Two
Clearing the distance between us in a step, I quickly leant down and gripped his prick once again, squeezing it and causing one final, thick dollop of jizz out of his piss-slit, which I gently massaged around the exposed head, causing him to moan.
 

"Ready to go another round, kiddo?" I asked, stroking slower then he would've liked.
 

Wasting no time, I pulled him up by his prick, taking him with me as I walked back to the sofa.

Looking at the rest of the boys as I did so, I was pleased to see that Harry had now taken over Niall's wanking for him, going up and down the boys short fat spark plug at a far more leisurely pace, whilst Niall was somewhat more clumsily masturbating Harry's thinner, longer prick.

"Louis, put your socks and trainers on and get over here." Louis did as requested, a look of apprehension on his face as he did up the laces on his white nike shoes, and approached me, his hard meat, slick with sweat-infused prejizz, swaying from side-to-side.
 

When he was within range, I took him by the shoulders, positioned him in front of the sofa, and made him first kneel, and then bend over, his head wedged in the point where the seat and back of the sofa met, his long, fit footballer's legs spread out behind him, the tips of his shoes seeking purchase on the carpet.

Taking Liam, who had an interestingly predatory leer on his face, I placed him behind Louis, who said in an agitated, if muffled tone, "err, what's going on? I...I don't like tHIS."
 

His voice went up in volume quite considerably, as I had Liam, very much against his will, lean down and run his sloppy tongue along the hairy, musky trench between Louis' muscled arse-cheeks. Liam's cock deflated considerably.

After one pass, he withdrew his head, "URGHHHH", he shouted, and coughed.

I leaned down to speak to Louis, "did he lick your button, Louis?"

"No!" Louis chirpily shouted back.

I turned to Liam. "Now, Liam, I told you - the whole reason you have to do this is so that you don't hurt your friend. Do you want to hurt your friend?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then get back down there, and make sure your TONGUE licks across his ARSEHOLE, really hard. Ok? Infact, do that a few times - say, four or five, and then push your tongue into him as hard as you can, and keep doing that until I tell you to stop."

"Into him?" His cute little brow furrowed. The poor delicate petal couldn't even begin to conceptualise what it was I was asking him to do.

"Yes. Your tongue. Into him."

The furrow turned to a frown, which darkened into amazement. "Oh...OH, that's sick! I can't do that!"

"Liam, trust me: you totally can." Even as I spoke, the demands I had placed on his mind to do whatever I said compelled him to lower his head to Louis' darkened nether regions, tongue out, nose poking Louis' arsehole as he ran his tongue along the prickly surface.

Turning to the other three, I instructed Niall to sit down, beside Louis' head on the sofa, and Zayn to get himself between the Irish cherub's chunky little legs.
 

Zayn did this, leading me to say as I pushed his head into the teen's pungent crotch, "Zayn, why don't you give Niall a blow-job. Just remember what feels good for you, and try to do it for him on his dick."

He haphazardly began licking up the side of Niall's granite-hard cock, who was very generously egging him on with comments like, "pretend it's a lolly pop", and "don't worry, it doesn't make you gay."

Harry, who was watching everything with wide-eyed fascination as he stroked himself, was ushered over by myself to join in. He apprehensively walked over, eyeing me suspiciously, his hand protectively stroking his cock, if you can imagine such a thing.
 

Putting him behind an oblivious Zayn, I got him on his knees, and took delight in using my hand to grease up his damp cock with the KY Jelly Harry had thoughtfully brought with him to the hotel, with his eyes flitting from staring at my hand, to staring at Zayn's ass.

Once suitably lubed up, I instructed him to go for gold, and he eagerly aimed his prick at Zayn's hairless crack and, reaching around his chest to gain greater purchase, thrust into the boy in one fell swoop, growling as he did so whilst Zayn's "ARGGHHHH GET IT OUT GET THE FUCK OUT" was slightly more ear-piercing.
 

Thankfully, he didn't bite Niall's cock off in anger: rather, after I pushed his head back down into Niall cock, he returned to dutifully sucking Niall, albeit between deep breaths and stopping every few seconds to groan in pain at the comparatively gentle fucking he was receiving at the hands of Harry's long, thick tube of flesh.

This had the useful, if completely unintentional affect of ensuring Niall didn't achieve orgasm - but he was used to that. I noticed Harry and Niall's eyes locked at one point, Harry's face coated in perspiration as he was fucking the lad who was simultaneously sucking Niall, and they giggled mischievously, like two schoolboys who'd just played a naughty prank on a particularly obstinate teacher.
 

I so wanted to pull out my cock and fire my seed over Harry's pouty fat lips, but I refrained: as a gentleman getting on in years, I had to be careful how and when I came tonight, making sure it was really worthwhile. I wasn't seventeen anymore.

But thankfully, Liam was, and I intended to wring more than one load out of him tonight. Turning my attention back to the spunky lad, I observed him, leant over so his face was entrenched in Louis' deep, pale cheeks.
 

I still couldn't see Louis' face, but I knew this was exactly the sort of thing a dirty little sod like him would enjoy.

"Alright, Liam, that's enough." He withdrew, breathing deeply, and wiping his wet, shell-shocked face repeatedly as he looked down at my feet, unable to look at me directly.
 

"Right, lets get you out of that T-Shirt," he raised his hands above his head as I removed it from his neck, catching a strong whiff of the lynx and the masculinity coalescing in his armpits as I did so. "Time for cum number two, Liam. Mount him, and fuck him. Louis, shut up and stay where you are."

I knew Louis' reaction would not be positive, so sought to stop him before he could start. Liam, like all seventeen year old straight boys, was the sexual equivalent of the energiser bunny when it came to ass fucking, regardless of whether a male of a female is involved.
 

As such, he got to it immediately, mounting his friend like a dog mounting a bitch. He took his organ in hand, and directed it to Louis' puckered bulls eye.
 

Liam acted with the cool serenity of a guy who had done this before. I would make a point of getting him to tell me about it later, I thought. I just stood there for a minute, watching as he built up a good head of steam.

He began slowly, on the tip-toes of his socked feet, which were curled into and gripping the deep rug beneath him, like a hawk, in order to give his long, athletic legs sufficient power to thrust into Louis' warm insides.
 

I also took note of Liam's alabaster skin, offset by the contrast of Louis' darker, huskier tone.
 

After a minute, he started to thrust faster, and harder, all the while maintaining his long, penetrating strokes. Pretty soon, he was accompanying each thrust with a groan of exertion, like a tennis player.

Whilst his speed steadily increased, his force and depth was constant: always as hard as he could go, and always balls-deep.
 

Soon, he was fucking his mate with all the vim and vigour of the teenager he was, his left arm wrapped around Louis' neck, his head buried in the boy's dark hair, his own blond hair matted down with the sweat that comes from constant, energetic fucking.

I slowly walked around the two boys, watching Liam's fine physique go at it, with muscles contracting and releasing in perfect sync with one another.
 

It was obvious that Liam was a boy who, underneath the cheeky grin, well-mannered attitude and baggy Gap jeans and T-Shirts, had a body that was built for fucking, and revelled in dominating his sexual partners: Louis was now just lying there, allowing Liam to rape his straight arse in his own time, like a prone cow.

Liam, deciding he was bored of this position, pulled out, and in about seven seconds, had flipped Louis over onto his back, thrown his legs up out of the way, and returned to fucking him with a high tempo.
 

Louis' legs rested on Liam's shoulders; his sneakers, which were hooked betwixt one another around Liam's neck, shaking each time Liam threw himself back into him.
 

This happened often.
 

His head rested on the seat of the sofa, with Liam now standing at full extension over him, so he could fully bear down on poor Louis, pile driving into him every few seconds, his right arm placed beside Louis' head, his left on the top of the sofa, to support his weight.

As he thrusted and retracted, I stood behind him, placing my hand on his ass cheek, feeling the muscles tense and release as he continued fucking.
 

He maintained his rhythm, without consideration for my hand. My other hand cupped his balls as he slid out, and they were wet - positively soaked in the sweat and voluminous pre-cum which must've seeped down his cock and coated his balls over the course of his hearty fucking.

Coating my hand with as much of his ball-liquor as I could, I withdrew my hand and licked it clean of the tangy residue. I then slid my thumb into the crease of his sweaty arse, and rubbed his tight hole with the thickest of my digits.
 

When he really started hammering away in anticipation of cumming, I instructed him to stop, with him buried in Louis' arse, "just...bit more," he moaned.

I ignored him, naturally.
 

With him stationary, his legs taut and his peachy arse at rest, I took the opportunity to kneel and perform for him what he'd been good enough to perform for Louis.
 

I ran my tongue up and down his cavernous crack a few times, before jamming my snake-like tongue into his tight sphincter, with him exclaiming "ah...oh...ah...ah..." with each forceful jab.
 

He tasted clean, yet very male, and when his butt-cheeks clenched with the initial surprise, he nearly turned my tongue into a pancake - but he thankfully got used to the sensation, and released.
 

Once he'd gotten used to the pleasurable invasion, he emitted "ahhh...HAHA...Ahhhhhah"; half groan, half laugh, as I jammed my tongue past his slick portal and into his fleshy insides.

I gripped his hips and pushed him forward, slotting him as far into Louis as he could go, so I could hold him fast with my head wedged up his blond teen ass.
 

With my nose once again becoming better acquainted with a collection of Liam's tangled sweaty body hairs, I sought to go deeper and deeper into him, knowing he could not push forward anymore to avoid my tongue.
 

I also thought it was probably pretty funny for the two 'straight' boys to be face-to-face, one balls deep in the other, whilst he was being rimmed for all he was worth by a third man.
 

Me.

Pulling out of him, I laid myself over him, the structural support of his biceps flexing as they strained to take both his own weight as well as some of my own. I licked, first along the fine, salty beats of sweat descending along his neck, and then licking and biting his left ear and the strands of long blond hair covering it.

My right hand returned between his legs, with my fingers curling around his bulging sweaty nutsack, massaging and yanking his masculinity (as was my want).
 

I whispered in his shell-like ear, "quite the eager young bull, aren't we Liam? Get a kick from spunking up your mates' arses, don't you? But when your seventeen, I guess any hole'll do, right? I mean sure, you like girls, but if a guy like Louis is around to receive for you, well, why not, eh?"

"Some people wouldn't do it, of course - some people are discerning - but you, well your just an ignorant little beast, bred to breed, right? Yeah, I know your sort, Liam. Don't worry, I know you. The real you. I'll take good care of you, for a good long while...and you'll be glad to know, we're nearly at the finishing line, fella. Not long to go."

Removing myself from his body, I slapped his arse as I proclaimed "hi ho, silver." I don't think he got the reference, but the slap on the arse certainly got the message across, and he returned to fucking with wild abandon, his mind ruminating, as best it could, on my quiet soliloquy.

For my part, I knelt down beside Louis' face on the sofa.
 

His eyes were closed, and he was completely unmoving, as though he were in a coma. I pushed my index and middle fingers into his mouth, past his teeth, resting it on his lax tongue, which instinctively wrapped itself around the invading digit and began to gently nurse it, like a babe.
 

Once nice and wet, I withdrew it, with it making a satisfying 'popping' sound as I did.

But I was dismayed to hear the moaning and groaning on the other side of the sofa reaching a higher, almost crushing tempo.
 

Niall appeared quite pissed off with Zayn's blowjob, but Harry had taken a leaf out of Liam's book and was fucking his husky friend with wild abandon. Whilst he lacked the deliciously long, disciplined strokes of Liam, he was quite a site to behold, and was clearly dangerously close to cumming.

"Harry, stop right now!" If I hadn't instructed him to stop...well, he would've been a far happier boy, but it would've upset my plans somewhat. Thankfully however, he halted his exertions, mid-stroke, and let out a groan of dismay in response.
 

Calling Harry over, he clumsily - angrily, you might say - withdrew and stood by my side, no doubt thinking I intended for him to get to work on Liam. It should absolutely go without saying that I did not want that. No, I directed him to keep young Louis distracted.

His absent-minded tongue had been most arousing on my finger, so to help Harry cool his jets whilst keeping him horned up, I directed him to sink his musky, fat ballsack into his friends uncaring mouth.

I watched as Harry manoeuvred between Liam and Louis, squatting down directly over Louis' face and, after I'd encouraged Louis' mouth to open slightly by rubbing his pillowy lips for a minute, slide his silky sack into the waiting, moist orifice.
 

Louis' lips slowly closed around the ballsack, and I could see Louis' Adams Apple move rhythmically as he went to work sucking on the big teen's nads. Satisfied, I returned to my position behind Liam, where I shoved my two wet fingers as far as they would go up his saliva-sodden arse.

What more lube could the boy need?! Apparently, lots, because he screamed out really quite loudly - but didn't see fit to stop his animalistic fucking.
 

I leant over and whispered in his ear, "you think this is bad, sunshine, you ought to have a dose of what you're giving poor Louis - you should be bloody ashamed of yourself."
 

I glanced down, and took in what was one hell of a view: straight boy Louis, completely unresponsive after being on the receiving end of a fucking of a lifetime, sucking Harry's nuts, as provided to him by the angelic teen being perched over him like a chicken laying an egg.

I timed my finger fucking to coincide with Liam's thrusting, trying to match him for uncompromising brutality, but failing.
 

To be fair, my finger was not nearly as well built as his body, the entirety of which was dedicated to forcing his cock as far as it would go up Louis' rectum, so I lacked a lot of the power Liam had bundles of.
 

After leisurely rooting around his insides with my fingers, I found what I was looking for, initially grazing, and then prodding it. I did this again, again and one more time, with his speed increasing ever faster as I did so, before he howled like a wild coyote and shot what must of been one hell of a load up Louis' insides.

Liam collapsed on top of his friend, their heads alongside one another, trying to catch their breath.
 

Extracting my fingers from his humid insides, I reached between Harry's toned outstretched thighs, eying his angry red cock-head as I did so, and once again slipped it into Louis' mouth, my fingers curling up beside Harry's balls.
 

I waited whilst Louis again lovingly nursed the now more flavoursome digits, seemingly gaining sustenance from it, whilst I stroked Liam's soaked blond hair. Louis yelped slightly when I withdrew my fingers, nice and clean and shiny.

Act Three, Cum Three
Looking over at the other two, I was delighted to see a look on anguish on young Niall's face, prevented from cumming by Zayn's frequent pauses to moan, groan, cough, splutter, and otherwise take a time out from giving what was a predictably subpar blowjob.
 

Liam had begun to withdraw his tired cock from Louis, who uttered a pained "ummmrggh"  when it was out, his sneakered foot collapsing to the floor with a loud thud.
 

After telling Harry to get his balls out of Louis' face, I demanded the other boys stop and get up, but thought better of making the same request of Louis, who I feared had genuinely lost the use of his legs.

But his cock wasn't entirely soft, so he must of seen some merit in the treatment he'd just had...although I doubt his girlfriend would agree.
 

Liam was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow alongside Louis, having just removed his soft cock from his marked bitch, looking down at both Louis, and his cock, in quiet, post-coital reflection.
 

I interrupted his reflective mood by rolling him over onto his back. Kneeling between his splayed legs, I went to get a grip on one of his firm calves whilst I unzipped myself with my other hand, at which point, knowing what was coming, he began scrambling to get up.

Pointing my finger at him as I did so, I shouted, "STAY." And like a good doggie (who was compelled to follow instruction), he did exactly that, lying back down on the sofa, and staring at me with those sweet baby blues of his.

I finished extracting my painfully erect cock from my trousers, and let Harry do the honours of coating my cock with KY - it was, after all, his tube; but he didn't like the job.
 

"Ugh, God's sake," he muttered whilst coating me and unintentionally wanking me with his smooth, unworked middle-class fingers. I shooed him away after the job was done, as I did not want to cum now after waiting all this time; I amused myself watching him scamper away from my groin like a little monkey.

Once ready, I placed each of Liam's pale, chunky calves on my shoulders, so my head was framed by big, stinky bright green teenboy feet, the toes writhing around inside the damp cotton out of anticipation and fear.
 

I craned my neck to the left, and planted a kiss on the flank of his socked big toe, picking up the subtle taste of the funk accrued over the course of the day's exertions of performing at the studios, and then the night's exertions of performing in a very different way at the hotel, but I don't think it did much to calm his nerves.
 

He just closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

Positioning myself at his entrance, I applied pressure - gently, at first - until the slick head of my cock squeezed past his muscular straight ring.
 

Keeping a hand on his shoulder and the other wrapped around his right foot to keep him locked in position, I steadily pushed forward into his warm buttery bowels. He emitted a quiet, low "hurmmmmmm" with his eyes tightly shut, as I moved ever forward, until I tapped out with my balls resting on his deep ass crack.
 

Slowly withdrawing so just the head remained inside the lad, I gripped his sweaty foot and firm shoulder harder, and slammed forward, "AHHHHGH, FUCKER," he shouted, eyes wide open.

I don't think he made the 'fucker' comment knowingly, but I got a certain pleasure from the unintentional accuracy of it. Releasing his shoulder, I fixed a hand on each of his pale muscled thighs, now parallel to my chest, before quickly withdrawing and slamming into him.
 

Pushing him back into the sofa as far as he would go.
 

"AHHMGhhh," he went.
 

I slowly withdrew again until just the tip remained in him, anchored by the curve of my glans and the rigidity of his anal ring, and again quickly re-entered, doing so again and again in a melodic, rhythmic fashion.
 

Delighting in his moans turning to groans, as well as the flexing of his thighs, rendering them like stone, each time I slid back into him.

Zayn and Harry were masturbating themselves watching us, but Niall - obviously watching Harry's escapades earlier with perky interest had, without any prompting from myself, mounted Louis and was squatting over his face, knees splayed wide, crown jewels getting a thorough tongue-lashing by the poor unthinking straight lad.

Louis had the added indignity of having his nose forcefully wedged up Niall's funky hirsute ass, by virtue of him effectively sitting on his face, rocking himself gently backwards and forwards on the heels of his feet, ensuring Louis could get his tongue around every unclean ballhair down there.

"So Liam," I said between strokes, "how often have you fucked a person up the ass?"

"A...a...coupla times," he said, his breath ragged, eyes unfocused. It was difficult for him to focus on the words, given the constant fucking he was receiving at the same time.

"Right, ok. Was it boys or girls you fucked?"

"Girls!" he said, as though genuinely offended at the implication that it might of been otherwise.

"And how did this come about? Girls, in my experience, aren't mad-keen on getting fucked up the ass."

"Th...they wanted me to fuck 'em. A-a-and, and I said that I would, but unless they were virrrrgins, then I'd only do it up their aaarrr....ses."

"Hehe. I see. Quite the heartbreaker, eh?"

"Nn....o, no it-it-it's not like THAT, it's just ssssseeeexxxxxx."

"Sure. And like I said earlier, if a fine looking young bull like yourself wants something, well, you'll just take it, right?"

"I-if...if they wanna, sure, wHYYY not, man?"

"Yes, quite the bull," I said quietly, more to myself then to him, running my hand down and across Liam's full-looking, peachfuzzed nutsack. Doing this, I got it into my head how he still looked a little bloated and, if correctly 'pressured', would probably benefit from firing off another volley of spunk.

The knowledge that Liam would disagree with such an assessment, only sweetened the deal. But, this presented a logistical problem: deciding that I wanted to work a final load out of him would require my actors to adapt their roles somewhat.

"Harry, Zayn, get over here." Harry and Zayn moved as directed, and I ordered them into position, like live-action dolls. I left Niall where he was; he seemed happy enough.
 

Especially when he changed position and, reaching behind Louis' head and running his hand through his fine, dark hair, tilted his head up so he could slot his thick cock down Louis' throat.
 

This resulted in a satisfied groan from Niall who, looking up at the ceiling, was no doubt thanking God for finding someone in this room who could deliver an adequate blowjob.

Zayn was on his knees beside me and the prone Liam. He was reaching across Liam's midsection and furiously jacking blondie's cock, as I had directed.
 

Liam, unhappy for his sleepy, worn-out little knobhead to once again get fiddled by big, sweaty calloused man-hands, was shouting "Urgh...shtop...sop it..." I presume he was saying 'stop it', although it was  difficult to tell, owing to Harry being on his knees between us, towering over Liam's face.
 

His slimy prick was still at the back of Liam's throat, whose tongue was being compelled into removing all the debris from Harry's earlier expedition into Zayn's arse.

Forcing myself into his round butt as often and as deeply as I could, I was trying to match Liam's earlier example for brutal, uncaring carnality, whilst also trying to aim at that pesky G-Spot I'd found so easily earlier in the evening with my tongue.
 

But Liam had set the bar pretty damn high when it came to the brutalising carnality, and I'm really not sure if I matched it.

"You know, Liam," I began, "I'm not entirely sure you're quite the bull I thought you were. Looking at your current situation, you look more like...well, like your being milked? Like, this is your third milking of the night? Doesn't that make you a fat fucking heffer? A little bitch?"

"UGHhh, nahooo," he shouted in consternation, now eager to re-associate himself with the label of 'bull'.

"Yeah. I think that's how it is, Liam. You're my little cow. You graze all day, not doing very much, just eating and looking after yourself, and in return, us proper men milk you for your tasty vitamins. That's how it works, isn't it? Isn't that right, Daisy?"

He didn't respond. Zayn, like a lot of straight boys, was a lot better at hand-jobs then he was at blowjobs, owing to the fact that he'd given himself more than a few over the years, and knew what worked.
 

His hand was really flying up and down the poor lad's tormented shaft.
 

Whilst the slippery organ slipped out of his hand every now and again due to my fucking slamming Liam's entire form into the back of the sofa, I think the two-tone directional friction he was receiving, with his body moving in one direction and Zayn's hand moving in another, generally served to nicely build him up.
 

Although Liam, who's pained moaning didn't stop from the moment Zayn wrapped his hand around his prick, obviously thought differently.

Watching Harry's butt flex in and out of Liam's mouth turned me on nicely, and dipping the tip of my right index finger in some of the syrupy prejizz that was frothing at the head of Liam's prick, I returned my finger to his steamy anus.
 

I slid up his passage to the knuckle in one go, pushing him forward, and nearly killing Liam from asphyxiation.
 

After a few seconds, I managed to time the rhythm of my hand with the rhythm of my dick, which meant I didn't need to think about it.
 

It was seriously weird for a moment however; having to devote so much brain power to making both my finger and my cock do what I wanted! Like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time.

Louis' cock, now erect, was proudly on display between his muscular legs, clearly getting into the blowjob he was being compelled to provide Niall with.
 

Hoping I wasn't biting off more then I could chew, so to speak, I took my left hand - my preferred wanking hand (no, really), and took a good grip of the teenagers clammy dick.
 

Moving very slowly and uncertainly to begin with, I began to move my hand up and down, seeking to build up speed as quickly as possible - given the finger I had in Harry and the dick I had in Liam, I had neither the physical nor the mental dexterity necessary to start performing any tricks on Louis.

Whilst I couldn't see Louis' face, his legs started randomly opening and closing, a clear sign of excitement in a boy, which told me I was getting close.
 

Suddenly Harry, who was now crouching just over Liam's face at the top of the sofa, with his two thighs completely encapsulating the lad in Harry's flesh and body scent, screamed "AHAAAAGH, YES", and raised his head in orgasmic bliss.
 

Pulling him back so I could see better, his cock flew out of Liam's pursed lips and coated his cute, cheeky little face in streams of Harry's steamy sperm.

This tipped me over the edge, causing me to fire jet after powerful jet up into Liam's bowels and, feeling his feet tighten so hard around my neck that he was practically guillotining me with them, he in turn came.

It surprised me when he started screaming "MMMMOOOO, MOOOOO", actually like a milking cow, firing stream after stream of spunk as he did so; when I had said earlier, 'you're a cow', he had obviously taken it literally in his hypnotised mind.
 

As he carried on I shouted "ok, ok, fine, you're not a fucking cow anymore."
 

Zayn, who unbeknownst to me had been wanking himself the whole time, suddenly stood, towering over Liam's unmoving form and immediately added to the pools of spunk coating his sweaty chest with his own contribution of thicker, whiter gravy, choking his stiff, hairless cock. 

 

Having by this point extracted my finger from Harry's ass, I yanked his silky-smooth ballsack for him.

Niall, who's brain overloaded with the raunchiness of these unfolding developments, came straight down Louis' open gullet, the straight boy gulping down the Catholic boy's thick seed and, as he was doing so, erupting all over himself, and my hand.
 

Everyone was, briefly, too shocked to move.
 

After a moment, Zayn staggered backwards a few steps, collapsing into the other sofa.
 

Niall, removing his cock from Louis' mouth, was so dazed that he lost his footing and fell off the boy, off the sofa, and landed onto his head on the floor, where he stumbled to his feet, and then fell over onto the floor again, except staying down this time.

Harry swung his right leg over Liam's unmoving body, and then slid to the floor, moving on all fours, away from the action and only stopping when reached one of the far walls to lean against. Louis stayed where he was. Only his blinking told me he was still alive.

I looked at my hands.
 

The one had been up Harry's arse.
 

The other was coated in pellets of Louis' jism. "Suck this," I instructed Liam, putting my finger before him. He sniffed it, and turned away. I forced the finger into his mouth, and kept it in there, looking him in the eye. "Do it. The sooner you do it, the sooner it's out."

I felt currents of saliva begin to form around my finger as he grudgingly sucked the mucky finger. I pulled my finger out, and then put my hand infront of him. "Now lick this."
 

He looked at me for a few seconds, thinking. Then he slowly, lazily licked across my palm, like a dog licking up beef gravy, before taking each finger into his mouth and gently sucking them, until the whole of my hand was slick with his spit.

Only then did I withdraw my soft cock from his violated anus, and lean down, licking the pearls of his and Zayn's loads from his studly chest, which had mixed with Liam's torso sweat to create a masculine, teenlad soup which I wish I could've bottled.

Act Three: The Final Thrill
Standing back, I quietly returned my cock to my trousers, and did up my zip. Still, nobody spoke. I went to the bathroom for a much needed piss.
 

Look at my watch: 2.45am.
 

Wife'll be wondering where I got to. Will probably be sentenced to yet another fucking week of cooking the dinner, to serve as yet another fucking apology.
 

Great.
 

I suddenly became aware of my suit being drenched in sweat, too. Another trip to the dry-cleaners at some point tomorrow, then. As I urinated, I thought about the future, and the past. All good things, as they say...

When I returned to the main room, everyone looked to be asleep. I went to Harry, throwing down a bag of the photos and disks I had collected of him over the weeks.
 

I didn't copy them.
 

Except for a few choice shots for my private collection, of course: but he needn't know that, and besides, I would never share them. Not my style. As he would know, if he knew me. A croaky, hushed voice spoke behind me. It was the deep, docile tones of Liam. "That was an...experience."

I looked at him. He'd wiped the spunk off his face with his white CKs. "Not every day you get to fuck Louis, is it?"

He smirked. "No...not that I'd ever really wanted to."

"No. Well...hopefully, I've broadened your horizons?"

His grin turned to a smirk. "Yeah. I'm definitely gonna get a girl to suck my arse next time."

I chuckled. "Yep. Definitely the bull of the group."

His cock flexed at the compliment, rising off his thigh, but he didn't speak.

I approached him. "At least, when it comes to girls." His smile disappeared, wondering what I was going to do.
 

I knelt before him.
 

"Just remembered," I said, "I don't even have a memento to remember the evening by. Think I'll have these," at which point I began removing his socks from his feet. Holding them to my nose, I breathed in deeply. "Nice. But...they need something to make them a *little* more distinctive."

Taking one of the socks, I put it over his cock, like a cotton condom, and started wanking him once more.

"Ugh...please..." He hunched over in torment, but I pushed him back, and he stayed back, with his legs remaining spread open for me.

"Watch the TV whilst I milk you, Daisy," I advised.
 

The straight porn was still playing.
 

I saw his eyes flutter, as he took in the girl-on-girl action playing out in high-definition for him.
 

His moaning was loud, and pained, but it didn't wake anyone. After about thirty five minutes of constant, methodical wanking, he came, dribbling the remaining contents of his balls into the sweaty, fluorescent green sock, and once again hunching over in exasperation.

I extracted the sock, used the other one to wipe up some of the cold sweat and dried cum on his chest, and put them in a bag in my pocket, along with his CKs. "They're expensive!" he moaned.

"I'll get you another pair," I replied.

He watched as I retrieved the video camera Harry had placed in a slightly opened closet at the beginning of the night, putting it in my pocket. He just pointed at me as I did so, wide-eyed, gulping and whispering, like the first neanderthal who'd discovered fire, "video."

I nodded slowly, speaking slowly, too. "Yes, Liam. This, video. It record moving picture. It show you being bitch. You fucked now. Forever."

He remained unmoving as I made my way to the exit, saying on my way out, "I'll be in touch, Daisy."

Others in this Series:

• New Direction for One Direction 1: Harry Styles
• New Direction for One Direction 2: Niall Horan
• New Direction for One Direction 3: Louis Tomlinson
• New Direction for One Direction 4: Zayn Malik