Poker Boys

Poker Boys

By: Spectrotica247

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Summary:

Four high school friends were hanging out in the basement one Friday evening after school, doing their usual activities... until one of them suggested a game of poker, which would soon become more intimate with each turn they took.

Chapter Two - "Spicy Fun"

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Garrett dealt the next round with theatrical flair, cards snapping against the coffee table. "Round twenty-one! Three... two... one... FLIP!" The cards revealed a 9 for him, a 7 for Joshua, a 4 for Paul, and, to everyone's surprise, another 2 for the unfortunate yet somehow unshaken, Hunter.

Hunter stared at the 2 of diamonds. "You've gotta be shitting me," he muttered, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. The thin white tank top clung to his lean torso, damp patches forming under his arms.

Garrett's grin was predatory. "Payne loses! Tank top off, man. Full dare rules apply." He leaned forward, tapping the table. "And since I've got the high card? I dare you to do it... slowly."

Josh almost chuckled. "Slowly? What is this, a strip tease?"

Garrett leaned back, fingers interlaced behind his head. "Exactly. You heard the dare, Payne. Make it dramatic." His gaze drifted to Hunter's chest where the thin white cotton clung to sweat-damp skin. "Or forfeit. Your choice."

Hunter scoffed, but a flicker of unease crossed his face. He glanced at Paul, who sat rigidly naked, arms folded tight across his chest—a futile shield. Josh shifted, the plastic chair creaking under his faded red tank top. The basement's fluorescent buzz thickened the silence.

"Slowly?" Hunter echoed Garrett's dare, forcing a grin. "Like… dramatic slowly? Or 'I-have-to-pee' slowly?" He stalled, fingers tracing the hem of his tank top. Sweat darkened the thin cotton across his pectorals.

The blonde bowl-haired teen leaned back, triumphant. "Your choice, Payne. But make it count. Or forfeit. Toothbrush detailing my dad's truck sounds fun." He tapped the Ace of Spades. "Interior and wheel wells."

Josh snorted. "Dude, your dad's truck smells like wet dog and stale fries."

"Exactly. Needs work." Garrett's smile didn't reach his eyes. They stayed fixed on Hunter's torso.

The Payne boy exhaled sharply. "Fine. But you're buying me pizza after this."

He hooked his thumbs under the straps of his tank top, the elastic stretched thin from earlier flexing. He stopped, the fabric taut against his ribs. Then, with deliberate slowness, he peeled the damp cotton upward. First, his abs appeared—defined ridges glistening under the harsh light. Then his chest, the dark nipples Garrett had teased earlier now fully exposed, the small silver hoop in the left one catching the light. He dragged the shirt higher, over his collarbones, his neck, finally pulling it free, leaving him in just his black jeans and boxers.

He tossed the crumpled tank top onto Paul's discarded jeans. "Happy?" he asked Garrett, voice tight. He didn't cross his arms. Instead, he placed his hands flat on his bare thighs, fingers splayed wide. Then, almost defiantly, he patted his stomach twice—a hollow, slapping sound against the tense muscle. "See? Dramatic. Satisfied?"

Garrett's grin faltered slightly. The dare felt suddenly… heavier. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, Payne. Dramatic." He cleared his throat, looking away first, his gaze landing on the Monopoly board. "Okay. Next round."

The four 9th graders flip their cards. Garrett stares at his 5 of clubs—the lowest of this round. Hunter grins at his 10, Paul sighs relief at his 8, and Josh beams at the Queen of Hearts.

"Payback time, Hobbs!" Hunter slams his palms on the coffee table, rattling the discarded cards. Sweat glistens on his bare chest where the nipple ring winks under fluorescent light. "High card rules—I dare you to..." His grin widens, predatory. "... make it slow. Like... agonizingly slow."

Garrett stares at the Queen of Hearts in Josh's hand, then down at his own lowly 5. The basement air suddenly feels thick as wet cement. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. "Slow?" he echoes, voice cracking. "You mean...?"

"Yep," Paul cuts in, leaning forward despite his nakedness. A smirk twists his lips—revenge tastes sweet. "Shirt. Off. Millimeter by millimeter." He mimics a slow peel with his fingers. "Make us feel it." Shit, now I'm starting to sound gay.

Josh, however, remains silent. His breathing is shallow and rapid as he watches Garrett. A tiny shift takes place beneath his fading red tank top, the fabric straining taut over his lap and creating a noticeable ridge on the worn cotton of his sweatpants. His eyes focus on Garrett's collarbone, which is already visible due to the tee's baggy neckline. His lips flutter nervously as he licks them.

Garrett stares at Hunter's triumphant grin, then down at his own lowly 5. The dare hangs in the air—agonizingly slow. He curled his fingers into the soft fabric of his black and dark-green U.S. Polo Assn tee. It's suddenly too warm, too tight. He glances at Josh. The quiet boy's eyes are wide, pupils dilated, fixed intently on Garrett's throat. Garrett feels a flush creep up his neck. Is he... staring?

"Come on, Hobbs," Hunter taunts, drumming his fingers on the table. "Clock's ticking. Millimeter by millimeter. Or forfeit."

Garrett takes a shaky breath. He hooks his thumbs under the hem of his polo shirt. The fabric lifts an inch, revealing a sliver of smooth, pale stomach above his jeans. He hesitates, fingers trembling. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulls the shirt higher. Ribs appear, lean and defined. Then the flat plane of his chest, smooth skin stretching tight over muscle. The shirt drags upward, catching momentarily on his nipples—small, pink, and stiffening in the cool basement air.

Josh makes a tiny sound—a soft, choked inhale. Garrett's gaze snaps to him. The Chinese teen quickly looks down, cheeks flaming scarlet, but the bulge in his sweatpants is unmistakable now, tenting the fabric.

Garrett pulls the shirt over his head in one final, jerky motion. He tosses it aside, breathing heavily. His chest is bare, lean and sculpted from years of soccer. A faint trail of dark blonde hair leads down from his navel, disappearing beneath his jeans. He doesn't flex. He doesn't boast. He just stands there, exposed, skin prickling under the fluorescent lights and Josh's burning stare.

The silence is undeniable, charged. Hunter's smirk falters. Paul stares, mouth slightly open. Josh looks utterly frozen, clutching his own thighs, his erection straining against the thin cotton.

Hunter breaks the tension with a playful wolf-whistle. "Damn, Hobbs. Who knew you'd be hiding those nice abs under your Polo." He leans back, eyeing Garrett appreciatively. "Solid dare execution. Slow... and painful." He winks.

Paul rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in his nakedness. "Yeah, yeah, he's fucking handsome. Can we keep playing now? Before Josh spontaneously combusts over there?" His eyes dart to Josh's lap and back up, a smirk playing on his lips.

Josh flinches violently. "Shut up, Paul!" he snaps with a cracked voice. He hunches forward, trying to hide his lap with his hands. "I'm not... It's just hot in here!"

Garrett stares at Josh, a strange mix of confusion, embarrassment, and... something else flickering in his blue eyes. He clears his throat, forcing his gaze away. "Right. Deal the next round," he mutters, grabbing the deck with unnecessary force. His bare shoulders tense as he shuffles clumsily, cards spilling onto the table. "Three... two... one... FLIP!"

The cards land face-up. Hunter whoops, slamming his Ace of Spades onto the table. "Ha! Eat that, losers!" Paul lets out a shaky breath – an 8 of Diamonds, safe for now. Garrett and Josh stare at their cards, identical expressions of disbelief forming. Both hold a 6 – Garrett the 6 of Clubs, Josh the 6 of Hearts. A tie. The lowest number.

Silence stretches, thick and awkward. Hunter's triumphant grin widens. "Oh ho ho, this is gold. We got a tie, baby! Two low card loses... and since it's a tie... you both lose!" The brunet moves forward with his elbows on the coffee table. "High card rules!" He taps his Ace. "I dare you both..." His eyes dart between Josh, still hunched over trying to hide his erection in his sweatpants, and Garrett, bare-chested and flushing deeper. "... to take each other's next layer off right now, instead of your own."

Garrett's jaw drops. "What? No! That's—"

"Genius!" Paul cuts in, grinning despite his own nakedness. He gestures wildly. "Think about it! Josh is still wearing that ratty tank top, and Garrett..." His eyes trail down Garrett's bare torso to the worn jeans below. "...still has those stupid jeans on. Now you," he points at Josh, "take Hobbs' pants off. And you," he jabs at Garrett, "get Lee's shirt." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

The oldest of the group stares at his Asian, raven-haired friend, his pulse hammering in his throat. Josh's face burns crimson, sweat beading along his hairline. The faded red sleeveless shirt clings to his lean frame, damp patches forming under his arms. His hands tremble where they grip his sweatpants-clad thighs.

"Well, what are you two waiting for?" Hunter broke the silence, tapping the Ace. "Start striping each other."

Garrett moves first. His hands hover near Josh's shoulders, trembling slightly. He catches a whiff of Josh's Old Spice deodorant. The younger teen flinches, shoulders tensing, but doesn't pull away. His Caucasian friend's fingers hook under the thin straps of Josh's tank top. He pulls upward, slow and deliberate, peeling the damp fabric away from Josh's chest.

The Lee boy's smooth, swimming-lean stomach appears after his pale, well-defined ribs. Garrett pulls the top up, revealing Josh's neck, collarbones, and throat hollow. Josh's shirt clears his head, exposing his naked chest save for his trousers, and he draws in a sharp gasp. Without delay, he hunches his shoulders and wraps his arms across his chest. Garrett's eyes linger on Josh's reddened skin as he drops the rumpled tank top onto the coffee table. Now, none of the four boys in the basement are wearing shirts.

"Your turn, Joshie." Hunter said to the Asian boy.

Josh doesn't think twice. He reached for Garrett's belt buckle, which was a plain silver clasp on his worn Levi's. He opens the buckle with unexpected speed, and Garrett freezes, gasping for air. Leather slithering across denim, the belt slides free. Josh pops the button underneath, his knuckles grazing the bowl-haired boy's lower abdomen. At the contact, Garrett jerks a little. With metal teeth rasping noisily in the quiet cellar, Josh pulls down the zipper. His thumbs sink into the smooth cotton as he holds onto the waistband of Garrett's pants and Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

He drags both down Garrett's hips in a one, smooth move with a violent yank. Garrett's strong thighs covered in blonde hair are seen as the jeans pool around his ankles.

Garrett looks down, motionless. Josh looks up, fascinated. Stretched thin over a noticeable bulge that strains against the gray cotton, the Calvin Klein boxer briefs cling tightly. The fabric is darkened at the tip by a wet patch. Josh's breathing catches, and the quiet is filled with weak, audible gasps. His fingers shake against the tight waistline as his knuckles graze Garrett's warm hipbone. He doesn't retreat. Garrett remains still. Sweat and something else, something electric and sharp, make the air in the basement crackle.

Hunter gives a low, grateful whistle. "Hobbs, damn you. Are you packing heat beneath those Polo jeans?" His smile gets bigger. "Joshie, great daring execution. Real, hands-on."

Paul snorts, shifting on the couch, his own nakedness forgotten as he openly stares at Garrett's lap. "Yeah, yeah, very educational. But Payne? You forgot the slow part." He mimics Garrett's earlier dare with a slow, dragging finger motion. "You ripped 'em down like you were tearing off a Band-Aid."

Hunter leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes glued to the tented gray briefs. "Paul's got a point, Lee. Where's the drama? The agony?" He gestures lazily. "Do it again. Properly. Slower."

"What? Are you two fucking serious?" Josh hissed, cheeks flaming hotter than the overhead fluorescents. "I already did it!"

Garrett stood frozen, eyes locked on the ceiling pipes, breath shallow. The gray Calvin Klein briefs clung obscenely tight, every straining contour visible under the harsh light. Sweat trickled down his bare ribs.

Josh's legs cracked on the leg of the coffee table as he scurried back. "No! I took the risk! I removed his pants." His fingers dug into his bare thighs as his voice cracked high. "It's done!"

Hunter grabbed Paul's discarded basketball jersey, balled it up, and hurled it at Josh's face. "Bullshit! Rules said slow. That was a drive-by stripping!" He pointed at Garrett's tented briefs. "Do it right this time. Like peeling wallpaper."

Garrett flinched as Josh caught the jersey. "Hunter, please—"

"Or forfeit," Hunter cut in, smile predatory. "Double forfeit. Josh cleans my dad's truck and Garrett mucks out Mrs. Petrovski's parrot cages. That bird shits like a machine gun."

Josh went cold. He had been bitten last summer by Polly, Mrs. Petrovski's macaw. The scar continued to itch. His gaze flitted between Hunter's victorious smile and Garrett's quivering legs as he forcefully swallowed. He unfolded the jersey slowly. The faded number 23 was stained with sweat.

Garrett whispered, "Just do it quick." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Slower, Joshie," Hunter murmured, leaning forward. His nipple ring glinted as he traced a lazy circle in the air. "Make us feel it."

Ugh, shut up, shut up! I fucking hate you. Josh screamed angrily in his head. He swore he wanted to smack that stupid smug look off the brunet's face. He just want to get this round over with so they can move on to the next one.

The Chinese teen boy went for Garrett's pants again. He gripped the crumpled denim laying around Garrett's ankles, then he pulled the Levi's upward—slowly, agonizingly—over Garrett's calves, knees, thighs. Josh paused at Garrett's hips, fingers hovering above the elastic waistband of those strained gray briefs. Beneath the irritation, a treacherous pulse throbbed low in his belly.

Hunter leaned forward, breath warm and sticky-sweet with Fanta. "There you go," he said in a deep, mocking seductive tone. "Now, pull them down again. Feel the tension."

Paul watched, silent for once, his gaze fixed on the damp spot darkening Garrett's briefs.

Josh tugged sharply downward. This time, he didn't rip. He pulled deliberately slow, dragging the jeans inch by torturous inch back down Garrett's legs. The zipper teeth snagged momentarily on a tuft of blonde pubic hair curling over the elastic band. Josh can hear Garrett's sharp intake of breath as his own erection strained against the thin cotton of his sweatpants, aching and undeniable. Fuck you, Payne! Fuck you, Williams! Why? Why did I agree to play this game? Fuck me...

The 14-year-old jerked the jeans the rest of the way off, letting them crumple at Garrett's feet like discarded skin. The blonde meanwhile stood trembling, exposed once more in just his tented briefs.

Josh tossed the jeans onto the pile of discarded clothes. "There!" he spat at Hunter with fury and something else he refused to name. He stumbled back, knees cracking against the coffee table edge. His hands instinctively flew to his lap, pressing down hard on the bulge beneath his sweatpants.

Hunter clapped slowly, grinning. "Much better! Painfully awkward. A-plus."

"You two are sick," Josh muttered, sinking back onto the couch cushions. His knees throbbed from hitting the table, but the sharp pain was nothing compared to the heat flooding his face and lap. He kept his hands clamped over his sweatpants.

Garrett still stood in the same spot. The lights highlighted every contour beneath the thin gray cotton—the straining outline, the damp patch darkening at the tip. He finally opened his eyes, gaze darting to the ceiling pipes as if they held salvation. "Can we... just keep playing?" He tried to sound unfazed.

Paul nods with a smirk, shifting on his seat. "Yeah sure, before Josh here melts through the floor... or explodes. Either way, messy."

Garrett finally moved, stepping out of the denim puddle at his feet. He moved stiffly, like a puppet with tangled strings, and sank onto the opposite end of the couch from Josh. The space between them felt charged, humming. He kept his eyes locked on the Monopoly box gathering dust under the ping-pong table. Why did Josh stare like that? And why did Hunter make him... His thoughts skittered away when his African-American friend's question sliced through the silence.

"Are you gonna deal the next round of this freakshow, Hobbs?" Paul snapped, the sharpness cracking the silence like ice dropped in soda. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch cushion, bare skin sticking to the cheap vinyl. "Or should I just get my phone and livestream Josh hyperventilating?"

Garrett flinched, tearing his gaze from the dusty Monopoly box. His fingers trembled as he snatched the deck off the coffee table, cards scattering in a flutter of spades and hearts. He scooped them up clumsily, knuckles white. "Shut up, Paul," he muttered. "Just... shut up."

The cards snapped against each other as Garrett shuffled harder than necessary—three quick, brutal riffles—before slapping them down.

"FLIP!" The word came out strangled.

Four hands reached out. Hunter's J glinted under the fluorescents like a smug smirk. Paul groaned at his 6, tossing it aside with a slap. Garrett's 10 hovered between relief and dread. Then Josh's sharp inhale... a 4, the lowest number of this round, trembling in his grip. Hunter's slow whistle filled the silence as Josh's face drained of color.

"Well well, Lee." Hunter peeled a hangnail off his thumb with his teeth, grinning around it. His voice dripped honeyed malice. "Looks like you're the only one still wearing bottoms." He gestured lazily at Josh's sweatpants with his Jack. "Off they go, down to the skivvies. Unless you'd rather forfeit and scrub my dad's truck in your tighty-whities?"

Josh's fists clenched around the card so hard the edges crumpled. His throat clicked as he swallowed. The elastic waistband of his sweatpants had ridden low, revealing a sliver of cotton underneath. Garrett caught himself staring at the taut line where hip met thigh as Josh stood abruptly, nearly kicking over the Fanta bottle. "Fine," the smaller boy hissed, fingers hooking into his waistband. "But if anyone breathes a word about this—" The sweatpants pooled at his ankles, revealing long, lean legs dusted with dark hair and black briefs clinging to every curve.

Paul choked on spit, coughing into his elbow. Garrett blinked rapidly. Hunter just leaned back, nonchalantly scratching the nail of his thumb on his parted bottom lip to catch something greasy and rub between his fingers. He commented with half-lidded eyes, "Damn, Lee. Those are some... interesting boxers."

Josh didn't bother looking down. He knew what they were—neon green with cartoon frogs, a gift from his little sister last Christmas. He'd thrown them on this morning without thinking. Now, they were the center of attention, stretched tight over the one thing he desperately wanted to ignore.

Garrett dealt the cards again, wrists stiff, his own damp briefs still clinging conspicuously. The deck made a sharp smack against the coffee table. Hunter flipped his seven with a smirk, the blonde boy's queen landed face-up with a sigh of relief, and Josh's ace made Paul groan before he even revealed his three.

The African-American teen stared at his card like it had personally betrayed him. "Oh, come the FUCK on—"

Josh didn't let him finish his sentence. "Payback's a bitch, Williams," he taunted, eyes burning with vindictive glee. "Now, here's your dare: You are to go outside, bare naked, stand on the Hobbs' backyard, and scream at the top of your lungs, and I mean the TOP of your lungs, that you get off on sniffing other dudes' farts." He paused, savoring the horrified slackness of Paul's jaw. "Then come back in... alive."

Hunter's snort was instantaneous. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Garrett wheezed, folding forward like he'd been gut-punched. Even the fluorescent light above them buzzed louder, as if shocked.

Paul's face drained of color. "You want me to WHAT!?" He yelled. "NO, FUCK THAT! I KNOW WHAT IS FUNNY BUT THIS AIN'T IT! YOU'RE FUCKING SICK FOR COMING UP WITH THIS GAY-ASS SHIT! AND DOING IT OUTSIDE THE HOUSE!?" He lowered his tone, anger still visible, when he turned to his Asian friend. "Josh... are you TRYING to get me ARRESTED!?"

Hunter wiped tears from his eyes, still shaking with laughter. "Ohhhh man," he gasped, slapping his knee. "Josh, that's fucking brutal. I love it." He turned to Paul, grinning devilishly. "Rules are rules, Williams."

The naked boy glared at Josh like he was contemplating murder, his brown skin flushed with indignation. "Not a chance in hell," Paul spat, crossing his arms, then hastily uncrossing them when the movement made his bare shoulders hunch forward awkwardly. "You think I'm gonna parade outside buck-ass naked screaming about fart kinks like some tweaked-out exhibitionist? Fuck that. Pick something else."

Hunter's bare feet slapped against the concrete as he stood, stretching with a lazy grin that didn't reach his calculating eyes. "Forfeit means forfeit, Williams," he sing-songed, stepping behind Paul and planting both hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscle. "And guess what? I'm personally escorting you to the yard to make sure you don't chicken out halfway." His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing Paul's ear. "Unless you'd rather spend Saturday scraping birdshit out of Polly's cage while she tries to bite your fingers off?"

Paul's jaw worked silently for a moment before he wrenched away, sending a half-empty Fanta bottle rolling across the floor. "Fine! But if anyone sees—" He was cut off when Hunter shoved him toward the basement stairs.

"Don't worry, Williams," Hunter replied with false reassurance as he nudged Paul toward the basement stairs. "No one's out there but Mrs. Whitmer's deaf poodle. What's he gonna do, bark critique?"

The two 9th graders reached the top stair, Paul wincing as his bare feet met the cold kitchen tiles, Hunter's fingers clung themselves into his shoulder like a prison escort. Moonlight streamed through the sliding glass doors, illuminating the deserted backyard where Garrett's dad's rusted grill sat beside a deflated kiddie pool from when his little sister was five.

Hunter flicked the lock with his elbow, shoving Paul forward with a snicker. "Chop-chop, Williams. The frogs need their mating call."

Paul hesitated on the threshold, the early October night air raising goosebumps along his arms, though not enough to hide the way his nipples had hardened into tight peaks from adrenaline or the way his thighs trembled slightly.

Behind him, Hunter's phone camera light flicked on, casting their elongated shadows across the dew-slick grass.

"What!? You're seriously recording this!?" Paul hissed over his shoulder.

The Payne teen just grinned, zooming in on the way Paul's buttocks clenched when a distant car alarm wailed three blocks over.

The naked 14-year-old boy's toes curled against the damp grass, his breath visible in the chilly air. "I—I can't," he whispered.

Hunter's phone panned up from Paul's bare ass to his horrified face, the LED light bleaching his brown skin ghostly pale. "Tick-tock, Williams," Hunter drawled, nudging him forward with a bare foot between his shoulder blades. "Let's hear that fart-fetish confession. Belt it out loud and proud, or should I tell Josh you're too chickenshit to—"

Paul exploded. "FINE!"

He sucked in a ragged breath, his chest expanding, the chilly air stinging his bare skin. Then he bellowed, voice cracking between fury and humiliation, "I GET OFF ON SNIFFING OTHER DUDES' FARTS!". The words tore out of him half-strangled, barely above conversational volume. A dog barked two houses down.

Hunter lowered the phone with exaggerated disappointment. "Tch. My grandma yells louder taking her Metamucil." The brunet teen immediately shoved him forward, nearly sending Paul sprawling onto the wet grass. "Louder, Williams! Like you mean it!" He circled him like a drill sergeant.

Paul whirled around, fists balled so tight his chewed fingernails bit half-moons into his palms. "Fuck you, Payne! I said it, didn't I!?" His voice ricocheted off the aluminum siding of Garrett's house.

Hunter arched one brow, unmoved. "Say it like you mean it, P-Diddy." His free hand mimed jerking off. "Give it some passion."

Paul gritted his teeth like a snarling dog. "You all are fucking sick!"

"And you're stalling." Hunter tilted the phone lower, framing the angry flush creeping down Paul's torso. "Tell the whole cul-de-sac how much you love huffing dude farts like it's nitrous. How it makes your little dick twitch."

Paul's fists shook at his sides. "This is fucking—"

"—hilarious?" Hunter finished, kicking Paul's bare ankle. "Say it, or I text the others that you're backing out."

With a growl, Paul turned back toward the empty yard, veins bulging in his neck as he screamed, full-throated and raw, "I GET OFF ON HUFFING DUDES' RIPE ASS GAS!" His words tore through the quiet cul-de-sac, bouncing off vinyl siding. "I JERK OFF TO THE SOUND OF DUDES CROP-DUSTING LOCKER ROOMS, I'D EVEN SUCK THE STINK RIGHT OUTTA THEIR CRACKS AND JIZZ MY PANTS DOING IT!"

Hunter doubled over, laughter erupting like a busted pipe. His phone nearly slipped from his fingers as he gasped: "Now there's my Oscar-winning nasty-ass bitch!"

THAT DOES IT! Paul saw red, a full-on murder-scene scarlet. His bare feet slapped against wet grass as he lunged at the Caucasian boy. "GIMMIE THAT FUCKING PHONE, PAYNE!"

Hunter yelped, his wavy brown hair flopping as he backpedaled, round belly jiggling. "Ooooh, someone's triggered!" he sing-songed, waving the phone just out of reach. The screen still glowed with Paul's humiliating confession. "What'cha gonna do, Williams? Cry? Piss your—HEY! THE FUCK!?"

The naked African-American teen tackled him mid-taunt, sending them both crashing into the dew-soaked lawn. Hunter's phone skittered across the grass as they grappled, Paul's knee digging into Hunter's soft middle, Hunter's fingers clawing at Paul's bare thighs. "Get OFF me, you—HRK!"

Hunter bucked his hips suddenly, twisting just enough to press his bare ass against Paul's waist. A moist, bassy PRRRRRRT erupted against the other 14-year-old's skin. The stench hit Paul like a physical blow: rancid and thick enough to taste the back of his throat.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Paul's scream shattered the night as he scrambled backward so fast his elbows gouged divots in the grass. "OH MY GOD, YOU DISGUSTING SHIT!" He gagged, wiping frantically at his abdomen where Hunter's toxic cloud that smelled of beef jerky, spoiled milk, and rotten eggs clung to his skin like a biohazard.

Hunter was already sprinting for the sliding door, bare feet slapping against the concrete patio, his laughter pealing through the neighborhood like a demented ice cream truck jingle. "Hope you enjoyed my victory smell, P-Diddy!" he crowed over his shoulder, clutching his phone like a trophy. "Gonna show the boys your Oscar-worthy performance, with bonus flatulence ASMR!"

"MOTHERFUCKER... PAYNE!" Paul launched himself off the grass, fury burning hotter than the stench still seeping into his pores. He barely noticed the chilly October air against his bare skin as he barreled after Hunter, who'd already disappeared inside. The sliding door was still halfway open when Paul reached it. He put his full weight into slamming it shut with a 'CRACK' so violent the glass rattled in the frame. "I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU—"

Downstairs, Garrett and Josh were practically convulsing with laughter, the latter pressed flat against the couch cushions as if trying to merge with them. Hunter stood between them, triumphantly waving his phone, the screen paused on a frame of Paul mid-scream, his mouth stretched wide and veins bulging in his forehead like some Renaissance painting of a damned soul.

"Wait wait wait," Josh gasped between wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes, "you made him say WHAT after sucking guys' cracks?"

Hunter rewinds the video 3 seconds and hit play again, and Paul's mortified voice filled the basement, tinny but unmistakable: "—JIZZ MY PANTS DOING IT!" The video ended with Hunter's snort of laughter and Paul lunging for him just before the phone tumbled to the grass.

Garrett, red-faced and wheezing, doubled over. "Oh my fucking God! The foos king just declared himself now the fart king of Hobbs Hollow!"

Paul appeared at the bottom of the stairs just as Hunter started rewinding the clip for a fourth replay. His bare chest heaved, and his dark eyes burned with murderous intent. Josh instinctively recoiled at the sight of him—Paul's brown skin glistened with sweat and dew, his nostrils flared like a bull's, and his fists clenched so tight his knuckles popped. Worse, the lingering funk of Hunter's biological warfare trailed behind him in an invisible, eye-watering cloud.

"Payne," Paul growled, low and dangerous, "you are SO FUCKING DEAD!"

Hunter barely had time to yelp before Paul tackled him onto the foosball table. The metal rods clanged like church bells as their combined weight sent the whole thing skidding sideways. Josh yelped and scrambled backward, nearly falling off the couch as one of the little plastic players snapped off and pinged against the concrete floor. Garrett, still wheezing with laughter, dragged himself upright just in time to see Paul pin Hunter flat, and promptly drop his full weight onto his chest in a move that looked suspiciously like a wrestling finisher.

"SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR LUNGS, BITCH!" Paul roared.

Hunter's scream was cut short as all the air left his body in one wet "OOF!" His face turned an alarming shade of purple as Paul ground his knee into his sternum.

Josh and Garrett exchanged a glance (half-amused, half-concerned) as Hunter's flailing hands smacked weakly at Paul's biceps. "Okay, okay," The blonde boy finally wheezed, wiping his eyes. "Williams, you win. Let him breathe before he turns into a fucking grape."

Paul didn't loosen his grip. His knee dug deeper into Hunter's diaphragm. "Not until he deletes that fucking video."

Hunter, despite his oxygen deprivation, managed a strangled laugh. "Never... gonna... happen," he gasped, fingers twitching toward his phone where it'd fallen on the floor.

Josh, ever the opportunist, lunged for it first. "Too slow, Payne!" He held the phone aloft like a trophy, fingers already swiping to delete. Hunter's eyes bugged out—half from suffocation, half from horror. "NO! DON'T YOU DARE—"

Josh grinned and tapped 'delete forever'. The screen went black.

Hunter's groan was so guttural it sounded like a dying animal. Paul finally eased up just enough to let him suck in one ragged breath before leaning down until their noses almost touched. "Next time," he whispered, breath hot and furious, "I'll rip your fucking balls off."

Garrett whistled low. "Damn, Williams. Remind me never to make you smell my farts."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, all at once, the tension shattered. Josh snorted first, then Garrett, then, miraculously, Paul himself, despite the lingering rage simmering beneath his skin. Even Hunter, still pinned and wheezing, cracked a weak grin.

Paul rolled off him with a grunt, slumping onto the floor beside the ruined foosball table. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.

"Alright," Garrett announced, clapping his hands together like a referee calling the end of a match. "Let's get our asses back in the game. And Lee, you're dealing now, my hands are done." He tossed the deck to Josh, who fumbled the catch before grinning and shuffling the cards with exaggerated flair, his thumbs flicking the edges like a Vegas dealer.

The tension still lingered: Paul's bare chest rising and falling too fast, Hunter rubbing his bruised ribs, but Josh's clumsy shuffling somehow made the moment feel softer, sillier. "Round twenty-six," Josh declared, dealing the cards with a dramatic flourish. "FLIP!"

Garrett's smirk faltered when he flipped his card: a measly 3 of clubs, while Paul's Queen of Diamonds glinted triumphantly beside Hunter's 8 and Josh's 9. "No fucking way," The bowl-cut blonde muttered, staring at his card like it had personally betrayed him.

Paul leaned forward, elbows on knees, shoulders still tense from the backyard humiliation but lips curling into his genuine smirk. "Finally," he drawled, voice dripping with vindication, "someone else gets to join the naked club."

Hunter chuckled, nudging Garrett's bare shoulder with his knee. "Look at Hobbs! Blondie's about to lose his virginity... to air."

Garrett knew he can't fight this, not after watching Paul's humiliation unfold. With a sharp inhale, his hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. The fabric clung stubbornly for a second before sliding down his thighs, revealing pale skin and the first glimpse of what the others had never seen: semi-soft pinkish flesh, neatly circumcised, curving slightly to the left at half-mast. Even unaroused, it was undeniably impressive for a 15-year-old, thick at the base and easily five inches already.

The silence that followed was charged. Josh's breath audibly caught. He stared, not mockingly, but with genuine, wide-eyed fascination before darting away, cheeks flushing brick-red. Oh my god... I can't believe I just saw his dick. It's so... fucking hot, I'll admit.

Hunter wolf-whistled low, nudging Josh's knee with his bare foot. "Damn, Hobbs! Didn't peg you for a shower and a grower."

Garrett scoffed, feigning nonchalance as he spun sharply on his heel, presenting his bare ass, pale and surprisingly firm from years of skateboarding, as he bent to pick up his discarded underwear. "Happy now, perverts?" The forced casualness in his voice didn't quite mask the pink creeping up his neck... or the way his thighs tensed under their scrutiny.

Josh blinked rapidly, as if trying to reset his brain after the unexpected sight, while Hunter grinned like a wolf who'd just spotted a wounded rabbit. "Dude, you're blushing harder than a nun at a strip club," Hunter cackled, poking his index finger at the Asian teen's flushed cheek.

The Lee boy abruptly became acutely aware of his own pounding heartbeat and the moisture sticking to his palms as he wrenched away from the finger. He forced his eyes to the ceiling as if it had the universe's secrets and gulped hard. He sputtered, "I—I wasn't—" but Garrett waved dismissively and plopped back onto the chair with an air of ease.

His thighs splayed just enough to remind everyone of his newfound nudity, and Josh's fingers twitched against his knees, itching to—what? Cover his own lap? Hide his face? Both?

Hunter's voice dropped to a secretive whisper as he leaned forward. "Admit it, Lee. You were comparing sizes in your head."

Garrett rolled his eyes, crossing one ankle over his knee in a move that accidentally (or maybe purposefully) put his soft cock on full display again. "Can we move the fuck on?" he grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched when Josh's dark-brown eyes flickered downward for a split second.

Hunter snatched the deck from Josh's limp fingers, shuffling with exaggerated flair. "Next round, losers. Unless someone's too… distracted." His smirk was downright filthy as he dealt the cards, pausing to flick the raven-haired boy's earlobe. "Eyes up here, tiger."

Josh dealt the cards with rigid precision, eyes fixed on the table as if the worn wood held the answers to his existential crisis. The cards slapped down—10 for him, King for Paul, 8 for Garrett... then Hunter's 3 landed facedown until the shirtless brunet flipped it with a derisive snort.

Paul, having the highest card, quickly jumped at the chance to make a dare with a wicked grin. "Take off your pants," he ordered Hunter, pointing at the brunet's khakis. "And make it slow, like how you made Hobbs and Lee suffer."

"Fuck me sideways," Hunter muttered, though no disappointment was detected. He stood slowly, fingers toying with his waistband. His round belly jiggled slightly as he rocked onto his toes, stretching with theatrical nonchalance. "Guess it's my turn to join the commando club." He popped the button of his khakis open with an audible snick, then descend his zipper slow as a stripper's glove.

Garrett snorted, crossing his arms behind his head, a move that flexed his bare chest. "Wow, Payne. You're really leaning into this whole 'tease' thing, huh?"

Hunter rolled his eyes, hips shifting as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his khakis. "Oh sure, Hobbs. Like you're not the one sitting there like a fucking thirst trap." He rocked from side to side, letting the khakis slide down just enough to reveal the stretched-out elastic of his Fruit of the Loom briefs—cyan fabric clinging snugly to his soft curves, the unmistakable bulge of his flaccid cock pressing against the worn cotton.

He smirked at Garrett's eye roll. "What? You think I'm gonna blush? Newsflash, dipshit: I don't give a fuck."

Josh's knee bounced under the table, his dark-brown eyes bouncing between Hunter's exposed waistband and Garrett's bare thighs. "Just... pull them down already," he muttered.

Hunter obliged with exaggerated slowness, shimmying his hips until the khakis made it to his ankles. The thin briefs rode up slightly, riding higher on his hips, revealing a strip of pale skin above the waistband. He kicked the pants aside with his bare foot, then spread his arms wide. "Ta-fucking-da," he announced, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Enjoy the show, pervs."

Garrett snorted again, but his cheeks flushed darker. Paul just rubbed his temples, muttering, "Christ, we're all fucking degenerates."

"Whatever, let's just get on with the next round," Hunter said, plopping back onto the chair with enough force to make the springs squeak. His thighs stuck slightly to the leather, bare skin peeling away with a tacky sound as he adjusted himself—completely unbothered by the fact that his thin briefs were the only thing preserving his modesty.

Josh's fingers were clumsy on the slippery surface as he dealt the cards, and he swallowed hard. Paul flipped his first card, a six, and Garrett quietly exhaled to expose his ten as the cards were smashed onto the table. His Queen gleamed in the cellar lights, and Hunter grinned. Josh's breath caught then.

A four... a fucking four. The worst draw imaginable.

Hunter leaned forward across the table, his smile growing slow and menacing. "Well, well," he muttered, false compassion oozing from his voice. "Looks like Lee's the only one still hiding the goods." His gaze darted sharply to Josh's tightly folded neon frog briefs on his lap. "Time to say goodbye to the frogs, princess."

Josh's fingers moved toward his waistband before jerking away as if he had been burned, and his throat clenched. Under the table, Garrett's bare knee unintentionally brushed against his, sending shivers down his spine. Do it fast. Like ripping off a bandaid. Just—

He grab his neon green briefs again and pulls them down to his ankles without stopping, stepping out of them quickly—like ripping off a Band-Aid—but not before everyone got an eyeful of his uncut cock, semi-hard and glistening slightly at the tip where foreskin had retracted. It was slender but longer than Paul's by an inch, though not quite matching Garrett's girth. The flushed mushroom head peeked out from its hood, swollen and sensitive-looking, veins faintly visible beneath the smooth skin. A soft trail of dark hair led from his navel downward, sparse but noticeable against his golden-tan stomach.

Hunter whistled sharply. "Damn, Lee! That thing's like a fucking corndog: sleek, Asian, and way more impressive than it looks in pictures." His grin widened as Josh immediately hunched forward, arms crossing protectively over his lap.

Garrett snorted. "More like a goddamn juice box straw." He mimed slurping obnoxiously, which earned him a middle finger from Josh, whose ears burned crimson.

Paul tilted his head, genuinely curious. "Wait, is it supposed to be that... pink at the end?" He gestured vaguely toward Josh's twitching erection. "Like, is that normal for you guys or—"

"Or what, Williams!?" Josh snapped. "You conducting a fucking census on Asian dicks now?"

Hunter collapsed backward onto the couch, cackling. "Bruh. We got Paul out here studying dick demographics like it's AP Human Geography."

Garrett flipped his hair out of his eyes—a nervous habit—before leaning in with fake scholarly interest. "Fascinating specimen, really. Notice the elegant curvature, the pronounced—"

Josh lunged across the table to throttle him, bare ass leaving the chair, but Hunter intercepted with a well-placed foot to his thigh. "Easy there, tiger. Your specimen's about to smack Hobbs in the face."

The now naked Chinese 9th grader froze mid-lunge, suddenly hyper-aware of his dangling erection swaying dangerously close to his Caucasian friend's smirking mouth. He recoiled so fast he nearly toppled backward, hands instinctively cupping himself. "Fucking... STOP LOOKING AT IT!"

Hunter spread his hands innocently. "Bro, you're the one waving it around like a fucking parade flag."

Garrett wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "Close call. Almost got Lee-licked."

Paul snickered a bit. Josh looked ready to combust.

Hunter, now the last one still technically clothed, stretched lazily, arching his back and reply with a smug smirk, "Well, looks like I win by default. Last man standing in his briefs." He drummed his fingers against his belly, the cyan fabric of his underwear riding up just enough to expose a sliver of pale hipbone.

Paul's expression darkened like storm clouds rolling in. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. "Uh-uh, Payne," he growled. "Game's not over until everyone's bare-ass naked. And since you orchestrated this whole fucking circus, you must to join the show."

Garrett nodded, his own smirk widening as he nudged Josh's knee with his bare foot. "Yeah, no way we're letting you walk away with your dignity and your underwear." He gestured at Hunter's briefs with a flourish. "Those gotta go."

The Caucasian brunet just shrugged, completely unfazed. "Whatever. If it make you fuckers happy."

And so, the game continued with a new round. Josh eagerly shuffled the cards, his fingers deftly moving as if the deck held the answers to all his secrets. The boys flipped their cards simultaneously: Paul's Jack, Garrett's Eight, Josh's Seven, and Hunter's Two. The smirk that crept across Paul's face was nothing short of predatory.

Hunter groaned, already moving to hook his thumbs into his waistband. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Briefs go next—"

"Hold up," Paul interrupted, pushing himself up from the chair with a grin that promised mischief. He strode over to the pile of discarded clothes, fishing out Hunter's leather belt with a flick of his wrist. The leather made a sharp 'SNAP' as he tested its weight. "Remember what you said when you took this off?" he mused, flexing the belt between his hands. "'Y'all start actin' up... might have to teach your ass some manners.' Sound familiar, huh? Since YOU act up with me outside, I will be the one teaching your ass some manners!"

Hunter's smirk faltered. He shifted in his seat. No... he's not thinking about...

"C'mon, man," he tried, voice cracking slightly despite his usual bravado. "It was Josh's dare, not mine. Why you gotta—"

Paul snapped the belt against his palm with a sharp 'WHACK' that echoed off the basement walls. "Maybe so," he growled, stepping closer until his bare chest nearly brushed Hunter's shoulder, "But Josh wasn't the one who fucking crop-dusted me like a goddamn septic tank! Now GET your ass up or Imma make this way worse!"

Hunter hesitated—just long enough for Garrett to kick his chair, sending him stumbling forward onto his knees with a startled yelp. The brunet's briefs stretched dangerously thin over his plump ass as he caught himself on the coffee table.

Josh bit his lip to stifle a laugh when Hunter shot him a betrayed glare. "Oh don't look at me," The Lee boy snorted, gesturing at his own bare thighs. "You're the one who made us all strip down to our birthday suits. So, fair's fair."

The dark-skinned teen wasted no time. He swung the belt in a vicious arc that connected with Hunter's exposed backside with a meaty 'THWACK!'

Hunter's whole body jerked forward, his surprised yelp dissolving into a string of curses as the leather strap he wore around his waist the whole school day left an angry red stripe across his pale skin.

Garrett leaned back on his chair with one leg sitting on his knee, propping his chin on his fist. "Whoa damn, Williams! Didn't know you had that kinda arm."

Paul didn't respond, just adjusted his grip and landed another blow a inch lower, this time catching the crease where Hunter's thigh met his ass. The brunet howled, fingers clawing at the table as his briefs rode up even further, revealing the quivering underside of his cheeks.

"Aah! Ow! FUCK... Okay! OKAY, I GET IT!" Hunter yelled, but Paul wasn't done. He snapped the belt down again, this time diagonally, crossing the first welts, his face eerily calm, the playful glint from earlier replaced by something colder, sharper.

"Boy, shut up," he muttered through clenched teeth, echoing the same flat tone his mother used whenever she'd drag him to the back porch for "attitude adjustments" when he was little. The belt cracked harder, punctuating each word: "You. Don't. Get. To. Whine."

The Payne boy squinted his eyes in pain as red lines bloomed across his ass, the welted skin already puffing up. FUCKING GODDAMN YOU!

Hunter's whimpers grew sharper, his knuckles white where they gripped the table edge. Sweat beaded along his hairline as Paul adjusted his stance—wider, steadier—like he'd seen his mother do a hundred times before. The next swing landed lower, right where thigh met ass, and Hunter's knees buckled.

"AAH, SHIT... PAUL—" the brunet shrieked. The African-American boy ignored him, focusing instead on the rhythmic THWACK-THWACK-THWACK of leather meeting flesh, the way Hunter's breath stuttered in time with each impact.

Garrett inched back even more with each belt lash, hissing with one eye closed whilst snickering, his 5-inch cock twitching slightly against his stomach, whether from discomfort or something else... he wasn't sure. Josh meanwhile stared openly, mouth slightly parted, torn between sympathy and fascination as Hunter's plump ass reddened under the assault, the cyan briefs sliding even further up the cleft.

"ALRIGHT, MAN! ALRIGHT!" Hunter finally spat, twisting around with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He grabbed Paul's wrist mid-swing, fingers trembling—not from pain, but from the raw humiliation of being bent over like a naughty kid. "Jesus fuck, Williams! You made your goddamn point! Message received."

"You finished now, Madea Simmons?" Garrett jokingly asked his dark-skinned friend, nudging him with his bare foot, the same foot that had helped kick Hunter's chair moments before, while Hunter rubbed his sore ass with both hands. The brunet winced as his fingers brushed the raised welts, his briefs now hopelessly wedged between his cheeks after the strapping.

Paul tossed the belt onto the pile of discarded clothes, cracking his knuckles as he exhaled through his nose like a bull finally satiated. "Bet you didn't expect this kind of Payne when you started this shit-show, huh?" he mused, watching Hunter gingerly pick his briefs out of his ass-crack with a wince.

Garrett laughed immediately, his bare shoulders shaking as he slapped his thigh. "Damn, Williams! That's fucking gold." He mimed wiping a tear, his cock bouncing slightly against his stomach with each chuckle.

Hunter scowled, rubbing his welted backside with one hand while flipping them off with the other. "Real fucking original," he replied with forced sarcasm, but the way his cheeks flushed pink betrayed his humiliation. "Like I haven't heard that one since kindergarten." He tried to stand, only to hiss and collapse back onto the chair when his tender ass made contact with the leather.

Paul smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as Josh bit his lip, torn between pity and amusement. "Guess you're Payne-fully aware of your mistakes now," Josh added softly, Josh added softly, little did he know Hunter is gonna make him eat those words by the next round.

The cards slapped onto the table with finality—Garrett's five, Paul's ten, Hunter's ace—and Josh's stomach dropped when his two stared back at him like a death sentence. Hunter leaned forward slowly, the grin spreading across his face predatory, his cyan briefs still riding up his reddened thighs. "Well well, Lee," he chuckled, fingers drumming against his belly. "Looks like karma's got a mouthful for you."

Josh's throat went dry as Hunter arched an eyebrow. "Just—just spit it out, Payne." he asked with fear in his voice. It better not be giving me a spanking.

Hunter leaned back with deliberate slowness. His fingers trailed down his stomach, pausing just above the straining fabric of his briefs where an unmistakable bulge swelled against the cyan cotton. "You're gonna pull these down," he drawled, descending his voice to a husky whisper, "and suck me off till I fucking cum. Right here. In front of them."

Hearing this made Josh feel like his heart will explode, his own half-hard cock throbbing traitorously. He did NOT just say that.

Garrett's jaw unhinged, his tan skin blotching red from collarbone to forehead, as his eyes darted between Hunter's smirk and Josh's paralyzed expression. He opened his mouth, closed it, then blurted, "Holy SHIT, Payne!" with disbelief.

Paul, frozen mid-stretch, slowly lowered his arms. His dark eyes locked onto Hunter's face like he was seeing him for the first time—searching for the joke, the punchline that never came. "Whoa, whoa... you're fucking serious?"

"Dude," Garrett croaked, raising his hands, "This isn't—you can't just—"

Hunter snapped his fingers inches from Josh's stunned face. "Rules are rules, Hobbs. And look at him," he scoffed, gesturing at the Chinese boy's leaking cock bobbing against his thigh. "Little Lee here's been eye-fucking us all night. Did you not remember just moments ago when it was your turn to strip, he'd been staring at your cock until we had to snap him out of it for the next round?"

The blonde-haired teen flinched at those words, digging his fingers into his own thighs as Josh made a strangled noise, half-protest, half-confession. Paul's dark-brown eyes went down, taking in the undeniable proof: Josh's foreskin had retracted completely, his swollen mushroom head was like a pumping heart.

Josh's hands flew to cover himself, but Hunter was faster, grabbing his wrists and pinning them behind the chair with surprising strength. "Uh-uh," Hunter purred, leaning so close his breath ghosted over Josh's parted lips. "Face it, man. You lost, and you know it. There's no hiding your secret now. I wanna see the faggot side of you, Mr. Lee." His eyes flicked down pointedly at Josh's twitching cock, then back up with a smirk.

Garrett made a noise like a dying animal, scrambling off the couch so fast his bare feet squeaked against the floor. "Jesus, Hunter! What the actual fuck? I think you're taking this way too far!"

Paul, usually the first to escalate, just sat frozen—muscles locked tight, his expression written with something between disbelief and reluctant fascination.

Ignoring the Hobbs boy's remarks, Hunter moved forward until Josh's bare erection came into contact with the moist heat of his clothed one. The rough material of Hunter's briefs dragged against Josh's delicate skin as he twisted his hips in a slow, methodical circle, causing Josh to gasp—a little, punched-out sound. "See?" With his lips grazing Josh's ear, Hunter whispered. "Don't you like this? You've actually been wanting this all night, I can tell." His breath caught as Josh's moist spot on his briefs darkened and his own hardness jerked against Josh's. "So, Lee, what's the hold up? It's just a dare."

To tell the truth, Josh is indeed into male dicks, but has been hiding this side of him for a while since that Thanksgiving week three years ago.

In fact, his older teenage cousin; Liam Wang, was the first person he ever told about his attraction to males—a secret Josh kept locked tighter than his middle school diary.

It all started on the night of the first visit with relatives when 11-year-old Josh woke up to the rhythmic creaking of Liam's grunts with his back facing him... and the screen's glow illuminated his cousin's shoulders. Thinking his cousin was hurt, Josh scrambled from his inflatable mattress—only to freeze when Liam whipped around, phone clutched in one hand and his swollen cock in the other, the screen illuminating two sweaty, shirtless Caucasian cowboys, one college-aged and the other looking old enough to be his father, spitting into each other's mouths between sloppy kisses. The older man was pinned against the barn's wooden wall, his big Western belt hanging loose around his hips, as the younger rural guy's hand was stroking the older guy's unseen cock inside his unbuckled pants.

At first, Liam refused to let the boy see, demanding him to go back to bed, fearing the trouble if any adult hear their commotion and walk in. But Josh, instead of leaving him alone, crawled onto Liam's bed with curiosity of a kid discovering fire for the first time, and begged, promising he won't tell anyone. Liam hesitated, then figured that since Josh had made it to his double digits and had just entered middle school at the time, maybe it was time he learned the fun parts of puberty. So... what the hell?

Josh remembered his cousin pulling him into his lap with an arm around his shoulders, pressing the phone between both their palms so the screen wouldn't tilt away. The warmth of Liam's bare chest seeped through his thin pajamas—cotton printed with faded robots from a cartoon they'd both outgrown years ago. His cousin's chin hooked over his shoulder, breath hot against his ear as the video played on.

It was the first time the Lee boy had not only watched porn, but also seeing two people of the same sex making out—sloppy, wet, spitty kisses, with the older cowboy's rough, gnarly hands squeezing his younger lover's firm buttocks occasionally. Liam explained to him what was happening on screen, his calloused fingers wrapping around Josh's little cock in his pajama pants, demonstrating how to stroke and jerk efficiently up and down. Josh gasped when Liam taught him how to twist the wrist at the tip, imitating how lips would suckle during a blowjob.

Josh could not contain himself when his older cousin's fingers sped up with him, the boy ejaculated all over his own belly and Liam's hairy knuckles. He remembered trembling as Liam wiped his cum off with an old sock, showing him how semen looked thick and sticky, unlike piss, which was something Josh had been used to seeing in toilet bowls.

So for the rest of that Thanksgiving week in the suburbs, Liam would pull Josh into his bed after the adults had gone to sleep—the rustle of blankets and the faint smell of laundry detergent clinging to the sheets as Josh pressed eagerly against his older cousin's body. Liam introduced him to every kind of porn he could pull up on his phone: gay, straight, trans, even amateur stuff filmed in dorm rooms with shaky camera work, whispering explanations between pauses. He taught Josh how to recognize when someone was faking pleasure, the difference between vaginal and anal penetration, and why some guys came harder when their balls were squeezed just right. Josh absorbed it all with wide-eyed fascination, his body responding instinctively whenever Liam's rough hands wandered under his waistband.

After that, Josh would be hoping that he'll get to have those experiences with his big cousin again once he comes back to visit his relatives. However... that didn't happen the following years.

Why, you may ask?

Because Liam had gotten himself a girlfriend at the time, and soon Josh noticed his cousin had stopped looking at him the same way. No lingering touches when passing him snacks during family gatherings, no more whispered jokes that made Josh's stomach flip. Instead, the older Asian boy would ruffle his hair like he would any other younger cousin, his fingers brisk and impersonal against Josh's scalp. The absence carved a hollow ache in Josh's chest whenever he caught Liam holding hands with his girlfriend under the dinner table, her manicured fingers interlaced with Liam's calloused ones... fingers that had once coaxed pleasure from Josh's body with such patient precision.

The poor boy knew it how difficult and risky it would be to find another boy to take his cousin's place, especially in their small town, where rumors spread faster than wildfire. And so, he decided it's best to keep the side of him that Liam had unlocked buried deep down... probably until he moved out to college.

But... here he is, as a 14 year old freshman, with one of his friends grinding against his erection, and that buried part of him is clawing its way up his throat like a starving thing. "C'mon, Lee," Hunter taunted, rolling his hips again to feel the Josh shudder, "You know you want this."

Josh shut his eyes tight, trying to focus on anything but the heat radiating between them: the stale basement air, the distant hum of the mini fridge, Garrett's ragged breathing somewhere to his left. But then Hunter's hands grab his wrists and lead them to his waist, and all he could think about was Liam's hands guiding his that first time—how safe he'd felt tucked against his cousin's chest, how thrilling it was to share something forbidden.

Hunter leaned down and murmured the words that unraveled him: "Hey, Joshie... you gonna stare all night? Or you gonna show me what that mouth of yours does?"

Josh froze—the cadence, the nickname, even the hitch in Hunter's breath mirrored Liam's teasing rasp so perfectly. Hunter shouldn't know that. Couldn't know that. Yet here he was, his voice laced with honeyed mischief. The raven-haired teen's body moved before his brain could catch up, legs wrapping around the brunet's waist, hands flew up to grip Hunter's shoulders as he crushed their mouths together in a clumsy, desperate kiss.

Paul's chair screeched backward as he lurched to his feet. "YO, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, LEE?" His shout cracked mid-sentence, voice pitching high enough to rival Garrett's startled yelp.

The dark-skinned boy's thunderous response caused reality to crash back. Josh's eyes shot open and he immediately tore himself away from Hunter's lips like he'd been burned. "SHIT! I-I didn't—" The fuck, WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO!? I... I JUST KISSED HUNTER! ON THE FUCKING LIPS!

He looked around to see Paul with hands gripping his own hair and Garrett with his mouth gaped wordlessly. "I'm sorry! That was—that was an accident!" the 14-year-old stuttered with his voice so high-pitched it cracked, "I don't know what got into me, I swear!"

Hunter blinked once, twice—then burst out laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach. "Oh my GOD, Lee," he wheezed, wiping his eyes with one hand while casually adjusting his erection with the other. "Relax, dude, it's just some fun. Besides, you've been drooling over Garrett's dick all night. Anyone could tell. But... I bet you're gonna love mine better once you see it up close."

Before Josh could react, Hunter grabbed his forearm and hauled him upright then dragged him stumbling toward the chair. With a theatrical groan, Hunter flopped back onto the seat cushions, thighs spreading wide as his briefs tented obscenely.

With a dull thud, Josh's knees struck the chilly concrete floor as the Payne teen pulled him down by the shoulders. With his legs spread wide and the elastic of his cyan briefs stretched taut over the obvious trace of his erection, Hunter leaned back in his chair like a monarch on a throne. Hunter put his thumbs under the waistband and purred, "Go on, Lee, pull 'em down slow."

As if he's being mind-controlled, Josh gripped the fabric with no hesitation and peeled it down Hunter's thighs inch by torturous inch until the sudden spring of flesh made him flinch. Hunter's cock, thick, veins like cables, and uncut like his own but impossibly larger, slapped against his stomach.

"WHA—" Garrett exclaimed, his own erection twitching as he gaped at the sheer size.

"Holy... Payne's got a fucking HORSE COCK!" Paul's crude laughter died in his throat when Hunter lazily wrapped his fingers around the base, giving it two slow strokes that made the veins stand out in stark relief against his tan skin.

Josh's own neglected cock was dripping semen onto the floor as he gazed, enthralled, at the way Hunter's foreskin slipped back to show the swollen, gushing tip. The sight of Hunter's hand moving with practiced ease sent a rush of heat right to Josh's groin. "See something you like?" Hunter taunted, using his free hand to tilt Josh's chin up, smearing a bead of pre-cum across his lips like some perverse anointing. The salty taste made Josh whimper, his tongue darting out instinctively to lick it clean before he could stop himself.

Hunter's laugh was dark with triumph, fingers tightening in Josh's hair as he guided him closer. "Knew you'd cave eventually," he murmured, hips rolling upward to brush the hot, velvety head against Josh's parted lips. "Just like I knew you've been imagining this since Garrett's jeans hit the floor." The accusation, spoken so casually, as if discussing homework, sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing through Josh. Because it was true. Because Hunter had known. Because the asshole was enjoying this.

"Dude—this isn't—we're not—" Garrett stuttered with arousal and panic, but Hunter didn't even glance away from Josh's flushed face.

"Relax, G," he drawled. "Lee here's loving this. Aren't you, Hobbs?" The pressure on Josh's scalp increased, forcing his mouth open wider, an unspoken command.

As Josh began to bobble up and down on his cock, lips stretched obscenely over the big shaft, the blonde lad struggled to think of a decent response. Hunter's words hung in the air, blending with the wet sounds emanating from his mouth. Garrett gasped for air as he felt his smaller erection weaken and eventually give in. He wrapped his hand around himself, gently massaging at first, then more rapidly. He could feel Hunter's sneer widen as he watched him fall apart.

Paul's dark eyes flicked between the scene: Josh gagging slightly as Hunter thrust deeper into his throat, and Garrett's flushed face, his hand working furiously over his hardened dick. A smirk curled at Paul's lips as he stepped closer, drawn in despite himself, watching the way the older boy's hips jerked involuntarily with each stroke.

"Damn, G," Paul muttered with fascination at how quickly Garrett's usual composure had shattered. "You're really into this shit, huh?"

Garrett still didn't answer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Hunter groaned above Josh, hips stuttering forward. The brunet forced the Asian boy to take the last inch with a wet, choked gag that sent pre-cum dribbling down his chin.

The dark-skinned teen cracked his neck left, then right, like he was psyching himself up for a fight, before muttering, "Fuck it."

Garrett barely had time to process what was happening before Paul's hand yanked his wrist away from his own dick with surprising force. "The hell—?"

Paul exhaled sharply through his nose, avoiding eye contact like a middle-schooler caught staring in the locker room. "Look, Hobbs, This doesn't mean I'm gay. But I'm not gonna let you stroke yourself raw like some desperate loser." His fingers twitched near Garrett's throbbing member, close enough to feel the heat radiating off it, but not quite touching. "Just... bros helping bros. That's all."

The blonde lad's lips curled into a smirk despite himself. "Uh-huh. Real noble of you, Williams." He made his return back to his seat and sank into the cushions with a sigh, legs spreading wide enough to make the chair creak. He hooked two fingers in a lazy 'come here' gesture, his other hand idly thumbing the flushed head of his cock. "Prove it."

And so, the 14-year-old dropped to his knees without hesitation. The concrete bit into his kneecaps, but he barely noticed because Garrett's musk hit him first, earthy and sharp with adolescent sweat. Paul's tongue experimentally traced a wet stripe from Garrett's wrinkled sac up to the base of his shaft. That made Garrett jerk like he'd been electrocuted.

"Christ," the bowl-cut haired boy hissed, his fingers clawing at the armrests. "Since when do you... Ah! Know what you're doing?"

Paul smirked against Garrett's inner thigh, breathing hot over the damp skin. "Shut up and enjoy it, Hobbs." His tongue flicked across Garrett's leaking slit, savoring the way his friend's hips jerked off the chair. Behind him, Hunter groaned loudly, his hands tightening in Josh's hair as the Chinese boy deepthroated him with desperate enthusiasm.

Hunter's voice was a wreck when he spoke: "Fuck, Lee... keep... keep doing that thing with your... Aaah~" The rest dissolved into a choked moan as Josh hollowed his cheeks, his nose buried in Hunter's pubes.

Josh's muffled whimper vibrated along his length, the sensation drawing a filthy curse from Hunter's lips as he glanced over to see Paul now mouthing at Garrett's leaking tip, his tongue slithering around the crown with teasing precision.

Hunter's chuckle was breathless, mocking. "All that 'no homo' bullshit earlier, and now you're lapping up Garrett's dick like he's a fucking ice cream cone."

But Paul didn't even glance up as he was too busy flattening his tongue against the underside of Garrett's cockhead, playing with the sensitive ridge until the blonde's thighs trembled. His free hand rolled Garrett's balls with rough, practiced strokes, squeezing just hard enough to make the taller boy whine.

Josh whimpered around Hunter's shaft, his own neglected arousal throbbing between his legs as he obeyed, slipping his tongue beneath the brunet's foreskin to tease the slick, hypersensitive head. The musty taste sent sparks skittering down his spine.

Meanwhile, Garrett's trusted his pelvis forward involuntarily, chasing the warmth of Paul's mouth. He was now reaching his limit, excited to have his release. Oooh... Jesus fuck, I'm gonna... FUCK I'M GONNA—

But suddenly, Paul withdrew from the Hobbs teen's penis and stopped playing with his balls entirely. Garrett groaned in frustration, his cock twitching angrily at the loss of contact. "Dude, what the hell?!" he panted with a scowl. "I was so close!"

"Yeah, I know," Paul replied, his tone dripping with mischief. "But think about it... Lee's been eye-fucking your dick, right?" He jerked his head toward Josh, who was still bobbing eagerly on Hunter's cock, his own neglected erection dripping onto the floor. "Why waste your load in my mouth when you can shove it right up his tight little ass while he's too busy sucking Payne off to complain?"

Garrett's chest was moving up and down with heavy breaths, not at the suggestion itself, but at how right it felt. He feast his grayish-blue eyes onto Josh's pert ass, cheeks slightly parted from his kneeling position, and something primal coiled low in his gut. He turned back to Paul and gave him a nod.

Paul smirked and made his way to Josh, dropping to his knees behind the Asian boy with a grace that suggested he'd done this before. Josh barely had time to react. One moment he was focused on taking Hunter's cock deep, the next, cold air hit his exposed hole as Paul's thumbs spread him wide. The sudden exposure made Josh jerk forward, causing Hunter to groan as the raven-haired boy's throat clenched around him involuntarily.

"Easy there, Lee," Hunter murmured, running his fingers through Josh's hair almost soothingly. "Just relax."

Josh remembered Liam's fingers inside him, how his cousin had taken him apart with patient precision, stretching him open while murmuring praise against his ear. The way Liam's rough hands had mapped every secret place that made him writhe. But Paul wasn't Liam... his thrusts were impatient. He curled his finger upward, searching roughly for—

"Fuck!" Josh screamed around Hunter's cock when Paul found it, his entire body spasming as electric pleasure shot up his spine. His neglected erection throbbed painfully, pre-cum dripping in thick strands onto the concrete.

Hunter chuckled breathlessly above them, his hips rolling lazily into Josh's mouth as he watched the scene unfold with half-lidded eyes. "Best Friday night ever," he slurred, one hand gripping the armrest while the other guided Josh's head with gentle pressure.

However, Hunter's world of pleasure came to an abrupt end when Paul hauled Josh upright by his sweat-damp hair, the Chinese boy whimpering as his aching cock bobbed between his thighs with clear white pre-cum running down the shaft. With a rough shove, Paul spun him to face Garrett, who stood frozen with his own erection jutting from his hips.

"On the chair, Lee," Paul commanded, giving Josh's shoulder a sharp push toward the seat. Josh stumbled forward on trembling legs, his knees hitting the floor again before his upper body collapsed onto the cushions, his ass lifted high in submission. His now exposed hole, still twitching, can be seen saliva-lubricated. Paul stepped back with a smirk, wiping his damp fingers on his thigh. "There you go, Hobbs," he said, nodding at Garrett. "All yours. And don't hold back, you know he wants it."

Garrett's throat worked as he stared at Josh's spread cheeks, his cock jumping at the sight of that pink furl stretched wide from Paul's fingers. His pulse roared in his ears as he closed the distance, his hands settling on Josh's hips with a grip that bordered on painful. Garrett grit his teeth when his tip brushed against Josh's entrance, the heat radiating off the Asian boy's skin making his own thighs shake. "Fuck, Lee," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "You... you really want this?"

Josh turned his head just enough to peer over his shoulder. "Yes," he whispered, barely audible but heavy with years of pent-up longing. His mind flashed to the first time Liam had pressed into him, how the burn had melted into pleasure so intense it left him shaking. How he'd lain awake for months afterward, fingers shoved inside himself pretending they were Liam's, chasing that feeling until his sheets were sticky and his throat raw from muffled sobs.

The blonde 15-year-old let out short huffs through his mouth as he clenched his grasp and moved forward at a snail's pace, until the taut band of muscle cracked with a damp pop. Josh's choked moan vibrated through both their bodies as Garrett bottomed out, his balls pressed flush against Josh's twitching cheeks. Garrett reached his lowest point, his balls pressing into Josh's quivering cheeks, and a stifled moan resounded through both bodies.

From his seat, Hunter observed with a tight jaw and fingers that dug into his own thighs with sufficient force to produce crescent imprints on his flesh. A wild snarl tore itself from his throat as Garrett started to move. "That's MY ass, Hobbs!"

Paul barely had time to blink before Hunter launched himself at Garrett, wrenching him backward by the underarms. The sudden withdrawal ripped a sob from Josh's throat, his hole clenching around nothing, gaping indecently as pre-cum dripped onto the upholstery.

Hunter shoved Garrett toward Paul, chest heaving. "The fuck you think you're doing, huh? Lee's mine tonight! Every fucking inch of him." His cock twitched angrily, smearing pre-cum across his abs as he crowded Josh against the chair.

Paul rolled his eyes then flicked Hunter's still-reddened ass cheek hard enough to make him yelp. "Took you long enough to nut, Payne. Should've claimed him before Hobbs here rearranged his guts."

"You son of a bitch!" Hunter snarled, his eyes locking onto Paul with predatory focus before he lunged, not at Garrett, but at the curly-haired, dark-skinned boy who'd orchestrated this whole mess. The Williams teen barely had time to widen his eyes before Hunter's full weight slammed into him, driving them both onto the cold concrete with a grunt.

The Caucasian boy didn't waste time grappling; he hooked his arms under Paul's knees and dragged him backward across the floor, the friction burning against Paul's bare chocolate skin until they hit the sagging purple beanbag where Garrett was sitting earlier prior to the poker game. "Hope you enjoyed breaking my ass with that belt, P-Diddy," Hunter panted, flipping Paul onto his stomach with a rough shove, "because now I'm gonna break your ass back... with my dick."

The young athlete's elbow slammed backward on instinct, connecting with Hunter's ribs in a hollow thud. But the brunet barely flinched. He pinned Paul's wrists to the small of his back with one hand while the other slid down to spread his cheeks apart with clinical precision.

"D-Dude, stop—" Paul shrieked when Hunter's saliva-slicked fingers circled his untouched pucker, the sudden cold contact making his whole body seize. "Ew... fuck! FUCK! That's nasty, Payne! I'm NOT fucking gay—" His struggling only made Hunter's grip tighten as two spit-wet digits breached him with one brutal thrust.

"Says the one who was tonguing Hobbs' dick like a lollipop," Hunter growled against Paul's ear, twisting his fingers deeper as the 14-year-old athlete's legs kicked uselessly against the beanbag.

Paul's protests dissolved into ragged gasps when Hunter crooked his fingers just right, a deliberate mimicry of the move Paul had used on Josh moments earlier. "Oh fuck... STOOOOP~" Hunter's free hand pulled Paul's hips higher, exposing him even more as his back arched uncontrollably and his cock twitched against the nylon beanbag. "I'm not—nngh—I'm NOT FUCKING GAY, you psycho—!" The denial broke when Hunter's thumb brushed his perineum, sending a shockwave of pleasure up his spine that made his toes curl.

Garrett and Josh walk up to them from the coffee table and watch as Garrett was idly stroking himself. Hunter's fingers vanished into Paul's ass with impure squelching sounds. "Look at him, Josh," he muttered, nudging the Lee boy with his elbow. "Think Williams is enjoying it more than he's letting on?"

Josh didn't answer. His lips are parted as he stared at the way Paul's hole clung to Hunter's fingers when they withdrew, glistening with spit. Garrett smirked at the raven-haired boy's transfixed expression.

"Hey." The 15-year-old tapped the younger boy's shoulder. "Still want me in that ass or what? My cock's not gonna stay hard forever."

Josh blinked, then nodded wordlessly, his throat too tight to speak, before stumbling toward the orange beanbag where he'd left his phone earlier. He hand-swept the device aside before he dropped onto the beanbag with a soft grunt. His back arched instinctively, presenting his still-gaping entrance to his blonde-haired friend. Garrett got down on his knees behind Josh and spat into his palm without ceremony, slicking his length with rough strokes before pressing against that welcoming heat.

Josh buried his face in the beanbag's musty fabric when Garrett sheathed himself fully in one thrust, the sudden stretch punching a choked sob from his lungs. His fingers clawed at the vinyl surface as Garrett set a brutal pace immediately, each snap of his hips jostling Josh forward until his knees slid apart on the concrete.

To their right, Hunter had abandoned his fingers in favor of his 8-inch monster, the mushroom head of his cock was then pressed insistently against Paul's twitching entrance only by three inches. The said boy's curses turned into a high-pitched whine as Hunter forced his way in with one merciless thrust, the stretch making Paul's thighs tremble violently.

"Fuck... fuck, Payne, you're... gahh... gonna split me in half!" he winced, his forehead pressed into the beanbag as Hunter bottomed out with a groan, his hips flush against Paul's ass.

Hunter paused just long enough to smirk down at his squirming fellow 9th grader beneath him, his usual arrogance sharpened by the way Paul's muscles fluttered around him... before pulling back and slamming in again, hard enough to shove Paul forward an inch. "Good!"

Josh barely registered Hunter's taunt, too focused on the way Garrett's cock dragged against his insides, stretching him wider with each thrust. It burned, but the pain bled into pleasure so sharp it made his toes curl. "Fuck me," he gasped, voice cracking as he arched his back further, presenting himself shamelessly. "C'mon, Hobbs... do it."

Garrett's grin was all teeth as he flicked his blonde bangs out of his eyes with a sharp jerk of his head. "Yeah?" His hips snapped forward, burying the last five inches in one brutal shove that punched a scream from Josh's lungs. "Like that, you slut?"

The basement dissolved into a symphony of gasps and grunts: Paul's angry curses as Hunter pistoned into him, Josh's high-pitched keening as Garrett's balls slapped against his ass, the wet smack-smack-smack of skin on skin drowning out the hum of the old fridge in the corner.

Hunter's hand fisted in Paul's curls, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. "Bet you never you'd having my big-ass dick feeding your hole, huh Mr. 'no homo'?"

Paul's retort dissolved into a garbled moan as Hunter snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself fully with a wet slap. "Fuck you... ah! F-fuck you, Payne!"

Garrett watched them over Josh's trembling shoulders, his own thrusts slowing just to savor the way Josh's body clenched around him... like it was made for his cock. The blonde's smirk was sharp as he leaned down, lips brushing Josh's ear. "You're taking me so good, Lee. Like you've done this before."

Memories of Liam's hands guiding the Asian boy's hips, murmuring "Just like that, baby cuz," flooded his mind as soon as Garrett mentioned the last part of his sentence. His fingers dug into the beanbag, vinyl splitting under his nails. "Shut up," he gasped, but his body betrayed him, pushing back onto Garrett's cock like a fucking addict. "Just... shut up and fuck me!"

Garrett chuckled darkly, picking up his pace until Josh's knees skidded against the concrete with each thrust. "That's it," he groaned, gripping Josh's hips hard enough to bruise. "Take it, you little whore."

Hunter looked over at them in mid-thrust, his breath shortening at the sight of Josh impaled on Garrett's cock, his own hips stuttering into Paul's ass. "Dude... fuck, Lee looks so hot riding Hobbs," he exclaimed, his rhythm halting as Paul clamped around him unintentionally. Hunter's lungs let out a punched-out groan. "Do you hear that, P-Diddy? Your tight little ass is driving me insane."

Paul's retort died in his throat when Hunter angled his hips just right, his cockhead brushing against that sweet spot inside him with devastating precision. A strangled noise tore from Paul's lips; half-protest, half-moan, his body arching off the beanbag like he'd been electrocuted. "Nngh... fuck you~ Ah! Don't... don't do that!" His thighs trembled violently, his neglected cock leaking against the vinyl.

Hunter grinned against the sweat-slicked skin of Paul's back, his thrusts turning shallow and relentless as he targeted that spot with cruel precision. "Hahh... too fucking late," he breathed, his voice wrecked. "You're already moaning for me, Williams... and fuuuuck~ it sounds kinda hot... Aaaahh~!" His rhythm faltered as Paul clenched around him involuntarily—another choked-off noise escaping the athlete's throat when Hunter's cockhead dragged over his prostate with deliberate, filthy slowness.

Paul's fingers clawed at the beanbag, thrusting back his pelvis against his will. "Shut... ughh... SHUT UP!" he snarled, but the protest dissolved into a high, breathy whine when Hunter wrapped an arm around his waist and hauled him upright, his back against Hunter's chest. The sudden shift drove Hunter's cock impossibly deeper, forcing a ragged gasp from Paul's lungs as his head lolled back against Hunter's shoulder.

"Gonna... gonna fill you up, P-Diddy," he groaned, his hips stuttering erratically. His grip tightened: one hand fisting in Paul's curls, the other splayed possessively over his abdomen, as his thrusts turned uneven, desperate. "FUUUUCK~!" The word tore from his throat as his orgasm hit, his entire body locking up before he buried himself to the hilt with a sharp, animalistic grunt.

Paul felt it instantly: the hot pulse of Hunter's pent-up fluids flooding his insides. The dark-brown haired Caucasian teen's arms trembled around him, his breath coming in harsh pants against Paul's neck as he rode out the last sensational waves, hips twitching lazily.

For a second, neither moved. Then Hunter slumped forward, dead weight, dragging Paul down onto the beanbag beneath him with a wet squelch.

Paul groaned, his limbs heavy, too spent to shove Hunter off properly. "Get... off me, you sweaty bastard," he muttered, but the insult lacked its usual bite, his voice still shaky from the aftershocks humming through his nerves.

Across the room, Garrett's rhythm hitched as he watched them. "Shit... Payne already came in him," he panted, his thrusts growing rougher, less controlled. Josh whimpered beneath him, his hole clenching tight around Garrett's cock at the visual—the idea—of it. Garrett's smirk was sharp as he leaned down, lips brushing Josh's ear. "You wanna get filled too, Lee? Huh?" His hips snapped forward, punctuating the question with a wet slap. "Say it."

Josh's response was a broken moan, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the beanbag. "Y-Yes~... fuck!"

Paul, still pinned under Hunter's limp body, rolled his eyes... though his cheeks burned. "Fuckin'... freaks," he muttered, but his traitorous cock throbbed against the vinyl, still hard.

Hunter, half-conscious, nuzzled lazily into Paul's shoulder. "Mmm... you liked it," he slurred, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Paul's middle finger was his only reply.

Garrett groaned, his hips stuttering against Josh's ass as warmth flooded his veins. "Fuck, Lee, you... feel go good... I-I THINK I'M—" His words dissolved into a guttural moan as his cock twitched deep inside the Asian boy, spurt after spurt painting Josh's insides white. He collapsed forward, his sweaty chest pressing against Josh's back as his breaths came in ragged pants. "You good, buddy?" he mumbled against Josh's shoulder.

Josh's response was a delirious giggle, his eyes half-lidded and swimming with post-orgasm bliss. "Wǒ de pìgu téng… dàn gǎnjué zhēn shūfú." he slurred, his accent thick and syllables muddled—Chinese tumbling from his lips like he'd forgotten English existed.

Hunter burst out laughing from where he was still draped over Paul's back, his spent cock twitching with idle interest. "Holy shit, Hobbs just broke Lee and now he's speaking full fucking weeb now," he crowed, prodding Josh's limp thigh with his toes. "Seriously, you're disgustingly gay for us, you know that?"

Paul, still pinned beneath Hunter's dead weight, rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Says the same guy who let him suck his dick and came inside me," he shot back. He tried to wiggle free, but Hunter just groaned and nuzzled deeper into his shoulder like a fucking cat. "Ugh, and get off me, Payne, you're sweating on me. Gross!"

Garrett snorted, reluctantly pulling out of Josh with a wet pop that made the smaller boy whimper. Cum trickled down Josh's thighs, glistening under the basement's flickering fluorescent light. "Dude," Garrett said, nudging Josh's hip with his knee, "you're leaking."

Josh blinked slowly, then grinned up at Garrett with dopey, unfocused eyes. "Nǐ de yīnjīng hěn dà." he announced solemnly, like it was a scientific fact.

Hunter howled with laughter, nearly rolling off Paul in his glee. "Translation: 'Hobbs' dick is massive,' " he wheezed, slapping his own thigh. "Lee's ruined... he's never gonna look at us the same way again."

Paul finally succeeded in shoving Hunter off, sitting up with a wince. His hole ached, sticky with Hunter's spend, but the smug smirk on his face never wavered. "Yeah? And whose fault is that, Payne?" He flicked a glob of cum off his thigh, hitting Hunter square in the forehead. "Yours."

Hunter smears it off his brow with his index finger and licks it with deliberate slowness. "Tastes like victory."

Paul stared, "You're unbelievable."

Garrett hauled himself upright on bare feet and flipped Josh onto his back against the ruined beanbag. The Chinese boy's uncut cock twitched against his stomach, flushed dark and weeping. "This needs handling," Garrett announced, like he was pointing out a math problem left unsolved.

Paul sighed through his nose and stalked over, knees hitting concrete as he bracketed Josh's hips. "Fuck it." His index finger slid under the foreskin with clinical precision, rubbing slow circles around the swollen head.

Josh's back arched off the beanbag—a punched-out gasp escaping his lips as his eyes flew open. "Gāi sǐ de—!"

Paul's mouth quirked. "Yeah, yeah." He fisted his own half-hard cock, the one he'd sworn was straight for 14 years, and lined it up against Josh's. The contrast was obscene: Paul's circumcised 3.1 inches sliding against Josh's slick 4, foreskin bunching with each stroke.

Hunter and Garrett flanked them, elbows on knees like spectators at a tennis match. Josh's hips stuttered, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Guys... fuck... I... I-I like boys," he blurted, voice cracking. "A lot. Since... ooh... since Liam. Maybe before."

Hunter flicked a nipple between thumb and forefinger. "No shit."

Garrett's smirk melted into Josh's lips as the kiss deepened, tongue tracing the seam of his mouth until Josh gasped, giving him access. Paul's calloused fingers worked their cocks ruthlessly now, his strokes syncing with the wet slide of Garrett's tongue. Josh's hips jerked off the beanbag, his moans muffled by the blonde-haired teen's mouth.

"Fuck! FUCK!" Paul's rhythm stuttered as pre-cum dripped onto his knuckles. His grip tightened, thumb swiping over Josh's frenulum, and the Asian boy screamed into Garrett's mouth, back arching like a bowstring. Seven thick ropes of cum painted his stomach in erratic spurts, each pulse wrenched from him by Paul's unrelenting fist. Paul groaned through clenched teeth as his own orgasm hit: four sluggish dribbles oozing over Josh's spent cock, before collapsing forward, forehead resting against Josh's heaving chest.

Garrett broke the kiss and panted, "Dude... you shot like a fucking water gun."

Josh just whimpered in response, oversensitive and twitching.

With the task said and done, Paul quickly released the Lee boy's spent cock before he wiped his hand on Josh's thigh with a grimace. "Ew."

Hunter rolled onto his back and his head made contact with the purple beanbag as his hand fell on his round belly. "So," he drawled, "we doing this again next Friday or what?"

"Hell NO!" Paul shook his head, having enough of this gay shit.

...