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Gay Taboo

Beg For Me

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Oliver
Oliver is a 19-year-old college student and rugby player who’s still sour over his parent’s divorce and his mother’s choice of a new husband. He’s a bit sarcastic and socially awkward.
Liam
Liam is an arrogant 20-year-old with impeccable style and a manicured appearance. Liam has no qualms about going after what, or who, he wants.

I really wasn’t sure what Oliver’s problem was. Did he really think I was happy about this little arrangement? Ever since my dad married his mom, I never saw him anymore. He was always too busy with Karen to take me fishing or come watch my baseball games. It was all that slut bag’s fault that my mum left, too. Oliver was such a fucking mama’s boy. I can’t deny that I got pleasure out of messing with him. He was so easy to rile up and such an easy target. 

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“Play nice, Oliver, please.”

“Mum, not being funny, but I’m not going to pretend I like him just because his dad is boning you.” I snap back, annoyed that she has the nerve to ask this of me.

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Gay Taboo

Beg For Me

I really wasn’t sure what Oliver’s problem was. Did he really think I was happy about this little arrangement? Ever since my dad married his mom, I never saw him anymore. He was always too busy with Karen to take me fishing or come watch my baseball games. It was all that slut bag’s fault that my mum left, too. Oliver was such a fucking mama’s boy. I can’t deny that I got pleasure out of messing with him. He was so easy to rile up and such an easy target. 

 

In fact, the only thing keeping me sane during this long fucking holiday away was knowing Oliver would be there. I would get my jollies from getting under his skin and seeing him squirm. He likely just needed a good fucking. He always looked so uptight and tense. I wondered if he’d ever had a proper romp as I entered the kitchen from the back door. 

 

I saw him leaning against the counter, his thin awkward frame making him look even more uncomfortable than normal.

 

“Not going to join the fun?”, I asked playfully, trying to lighten the mood. His body flinched, not expecting my presence. 

 

He spun around quickly, his face deadpan. We’re instantly locked in a staring contest of sorts and I wonder who will break first. I raise my eyebrows as if to say, “Whatcha got?” 

 

“Are you serious right now?” he asks, his voice laced with disgust. 

 

For a moment, I can’t help but wonder why he hates me so much.

 

“What?” I ask, genuinely curious.

 

“You,” he says with venom in his voice. “You never even acknowledge me 90% of the time, yet all of a sudden you’re cozying up to me? Fuck that.”

 

“Cozying up?” I scoff. This kid was even more pathetic than I originally thought. “In your dreams,” I say, challenging him. “You’d love it if I got close to you.”

 

I got off on toying with him. Making him question my motives and intentions. 

 

“What did you just say?” 

 

He was furious now and I was gleeful.

 

“You heard me,” I responded with a snicker.

 

Just then Karen entered the kitchen. She looked pleased to see Oliver and me talking. I plastered an artificial smile on my face to match hers while secretly wondering if I could sneak a drink at this lame-ass party.

 

***

 

As I sit in the corner of the dark kitchen sipping a cold glass of Whiskey, I wonder what my life has become. I’m doing fine at university but I hate my major and all of my classmates. My flatmate is a complete stoner and I miss my friends from back home.

 

Just as I’m calculating how to tell my father I want to drop out, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Who else is awake? The clock on the stove reads 1:30 a.m. Fuck. I need to go to bed. I take another sip of my drink, the liquid burning my throat on the way down. 

 

I stand up, placing my glass in the sink and waiting to see who my nighttime visitor is. Then I see him round the corner into the kitchen. It’s the person I assumed and secretly hoped it would be. Oliver. He doesn’t notice me in the shadows at first. I watch him walk through the dark kitchen and stop near the island opposite me. 

 

“Naughty, naughty, you shouldn’t be up, Oliver.” I know my tone will infuriate him and that only excites me more. “It would suck if someone told your mum you’re misbehaving.”

 

Without a word, he turns to face me and then does something I wasn’t expecting. He charges at me, shoving me hard against the fridge. I’m completely taken off guard. I honestly didn’t think he had that sort of fight in him.

 

In an instant, my back is against the fridge and Oliver’s hands are shoving my shoulders into the cold, hard surface. I flinch as he yanks me by my shirt, turning me around and shoving me into the kitchen counter. I wince and fold over the marble island as the hard edge makes contact with my ribs. 

 

Fuck. Now I was getting mad. Who the fuck did this kid think he was?

 

I slump over the counter and feel Oliver approach me from behind. He has my arms pinned down against the hard surface and I hear him breathing heavily. I hold still, waiting to see what his next move is.

 

I feel his fingers on my waistband, aggressively tugging down my pants. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss. I’m panicking now. 

 

I’ve always enjoyed toying with Oliver but I never thought he’d actually act on it. My entire body is overwhelmed with anxiety. Sweat fills my palms and drips down my neck. My breath is short and quick as I try to wiggle out from beneath his grasp. His hands tighten around my wrists.

 

I try to turn around and he shoves my face back onto the counter. He’s stronger than I’d given him credit for.  

 

“Shut the fuck up”, Oliver scowls. He sounds possessed and I’m actually a bit nervous.

 

I stop struggling and feel a warm, wet sensation on my tailbone as he spits on me. Did he just spit on me? My mind is racing. I’m mad, I’m nervous, I’m aroused. My ass cheeks clench tightly together as he starts rubbing his warm saliva along my flesh and down into my ass crack. I can barely breathe out of fear and the pressure of his body on top of mine. I hear him spit again, but this time it’s on himself. From the corner of my eye, I see his hand near his crotch, moving back and forth. Is he fucking jerking off? Unsure of what’s happening, I try to fight back a second time but it was no use. I was completely at his mercy and he knew it.

 

Before I can think or do another thing, I feel intense pressure as he spreads my ass cheeks wide and plunges his dick inside me. The pain is fierce and immediate. 

 

“Fucking hell!” I scream. As much as I don’t want anyone to see us in this compromising position, I don’t do much to keep my voice down. 

 

“Oh, you fucking love it,” Oliver grunts. I’d never seen him in this much control. 

 

I grip the counter frantically, unable to do anything but ease into the sensation of his cock in my body. The initial pain and pressure slowly subside, giving way to an unfamiliar sensation of pleasure. I spread my legs a few inches wider as Oliver plunges himself completely into me. I can feel his balls slapping against my own and am suddenly overcome by desire. I’d never been filled up this way before and it felt foreign and amazing all at the same time. 

 

I let out a deep-throated moan and began moving my body to meet his. I push my ass upward, welcoming his entry and silently urging him to go deeper. My ass grips his shaft, pushing and pulling him deeper into my virgin canal. 

 

“You like that, don’t you?” Oliver asks. He has a firm grasp on my hips and is controlling my every movement. “Fucking say it,” he demands

 

I felt obligated to obey.

 

“I, I like it…” I say breathily. But that was a lie. My desire bubbles over and out my mouth as I cry out, “Oh god, I love it!”

 

I did. It was true. I loved getting fucked in the ass by Oliver. I’d teased him for far too long and now he was making good on all my empty promises. 

 

“Good boy.” I could hear the smile on Oliver’s lips. “Now, you’d better work that ass for me.”

 

And with that, I continued to ride Oliver’s perfect dick until he exploded inside me and then sucked me off, right there in his mother’s kitchen.

 

  ***

 

No one knew about our little arrangement. They’d never understand. Fuck, I barely understood it. In front of others, we still acted like feuding step-brothers, pissed off that our parents had split up and married other people. But when no one was looking and behind closed doors, well, that’s when our real passion spilled over.

 

We snuck away as often as we could and took turns fucking and sucking each other. I’d ride him sitting in his mother’s office chair and he’d fuck me bent over the workbench in the garage. Sometimes we’d even share each other’s cum. It was dirty and wrong and I loved every fucking minute of it. It was as if the disdain we shared only made us want each other more. All of that raw emotion and pent-up energy made for the best sex of my life.

 

But the holiday was almost over and I’d be going back to school where I was miserable most days. I didn’t want to think about it. For now, I’d focus on being here. With Oliver. We only had a few more nights together. And even after romping all over the house, at least a dozen times, my heart still pounded and my mouth grew dry as I turned the doorknob to his bedroom and snuck in for another midnight rendezvous. 

 

“Play nice, Oliver, please.”

“Mum, not being funny, but I’m not going to pretend I like him just because his dad is boning you.” I snap back, annoyed that she has the nerve to ask this of me.

“Don’t talk such disgusting filth, Oliver,” She quickly retorts, her anger finally breaking through the fake facade she’s put on for this occasion. “You’re not too old for me to ground you, so pack that in right now. I swear to God, I won’t have you ruining this holiday.” With that she storms away, though not before she slaps that fake smile back on her face ready for the waiting guests beyond. 

I hate that she can do that so easily — even in her most frustrated states, she can answer the phone in the softest of tones, talking as if she was just having tea with a vicar instead of shouting at me. 

I look on in horror as I hear the chorus of greetings that come from the room beyond. Inside that cesspool lurks a couple of my mum’s friends, as well as my stepdad and his arrogant son. As if it wasn’t bad enough she’s seeing a new man, she had to find a guy that has a son the same age as me. You’d think it would make it easier, but I can’t stand him. He thinks he’s wonderful. Every time I see him, he arrogantly stares at me, his eyes speaking volumes but his mouth saying nothing, it’s almost as if he thinks he’s better than me. I fucking hate it. I hate him. 

“Not going to join in the fun?”

I spin around in surprise, taken aback that he isn’t in the room where my mum is. Despite my surprise, however, I still manage to glare at his blank face, those grey eyes watching me with silent curiosity. I taunt myself with curle jibes, telling myself I should probably feel grateful that he’s uttering a single word to me, all of which only helps to make me angrier. At first I consider letting it slide, keeping my mouth closed just like he normally does, but then I realise it would let him off too easily. Why should I have to keep my feelings locked up for the sake of a twat like him!

“Are you serious right now?” I ask, disbelief colouring my features.

“What?”

“You. You never even acknowledge me 90% of the time, yet all of a sudden you’re cosying up to me, well fuck that.”

“Cosying up?” He scoffs, his face finally giving me more than those vacant pretty boy stares that typically get him whatever he wants. “In your dreams — you’d love it if I got close to you!”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” Comes his snarling response, right before my mum comes back to fetch me; the bastard timed it well. Unable to say anything in my defense, I’m forced to play along and pretend to be the happy son my mum makes out I am. All the while imagining wiping that pretty little smirk of his right off his face.

 

*

 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I hold my breath on every step, fearful that they’ll creak under my weight. I’m not quite sure of the time right now, but judging by the stillness of the house, I’d guess that it was the early hours of the morning. 

I know I should be asleep, but I can’t stand being in some place new. I’ve played the dutiful son all day, the least I can do now is have some time for myself. Especially considering how I’m having to put up with Liam and his dickhead dad. 

Irritation rearing its ugly head again, I feel myself shaking with rage as I move into the kitchen — that bastard has no right to be a part of my family, neither of them fucking do. My mum and dad were fine before Simon came along, then he entered into the picture and everything went to shit. Just like that I lost everything I’d known and had it replaced by this shitshow. It wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair. 

“Naughty, naughty, you shouldn’t be up, Oliver.” I grit my teeth as I hear his words snake in my ears, my fingers clenching the edge of the counter. My body is so filled with anger that I worry that I’ll punch him if I dare look up. “It would suck if someone told your mum you’re misbehaving.”

That’s it. That’s fucking it!

Without thinking, I rush him, his back slamming against the fridge as I take him by surprise, the whole unit rocking against the wall as I pin him in place. I should be concerned about the amount of noise I’m making, but I couldn’t give a damn if anyone hears. Let them come and stop me, this fucker has had this coming since day one. 

Before Liam has a chance to mumble his confusion at my actions, I yank him from the fridge and throw him against the kitchen island I’d been leaning against moments ago. The impact is quieter this time around, but he’s body still takes a rough hit on impact; he groans in pain as he slumps over the side. 

Bent over and vulnerable like that, my mind goes from rage to lust in the most profound of transitions. Coming up behind him, I hold him down, his body quietly writhing to get away from me as my free hand pulls down his joggers. I can scarcely believe what I’m doing, what I long to do, yet here I am unable to stop myself

— “What the fuck are you doing?” Liam hisses, his head twisting to look at me. I respond by pushing his hand back down, I can’t deal with him talking to me.

“Shut the fuck up!” I growl before I spit just above the crack of his ass, the trail dribbling down between his cheeks. Mesmerised by his bare flesh, it takes me a moment to shake myself into action; I roughly rub my spit deeper into between his cheeks, his muscles tensing with every stroke. Liam hisses angrily at me, but I plough on. I don’t blame him for being stressed, he has every right to be angry. In fact, he should be kicking the shit out me for doing this, but that’ll have to come later, because right now it’s all about me making that ass mine. 

Hurriedly I pull my pj bottoms down, my cock harder than it’s been for a long time. I spit again, only this time take the spittle I’ve collected in my palm and spread it along my shaft and all over its head. I draw in a deep breath, the night’s air still around us both. Then I roughly spread his ass and ram myself into him. 

—”Fucking hell!” 

“Oh, you fucking love it!” If Liam’s not careful, I’ll reach and clamp my hand over his mouth to make sure that he can’t wake anyone. I’m not going to be interrupted, not now. 

Burying myself deeper inside, I feel that initial resistance give way, the tension in him subsiding quicker than I’d expected. At first I’m worried I’ve gone too far, my mind momentarily clearing to take full stock of what I’m doing. But then I hear Liam moan, his ass starting to move back so that it can grind against my hips. The way he’s starting to move feels insanely good, his tightness massaging me in a way that has me biting my lip to the point it might bleed. 

“You like that, don’t you?” I need him to say it, I need to know he’s in this the same way I am. “Fucking say it!”

“I, I like it…” Liam moans, his body melting against mine. “Oh god, I love it.” Hearing him admit that is music to my ears, the beat spurring me on to violate him in ways I didn’t know I was capable of doing. 

“Good boy. Now, you’d better work that ass for me.”

 

*

 

Every night since that first, we’ve met up in different rooms of the house, the two of us looking for new ways to push the other to their limit. I don’t know whether this means that we now like one another — I highly doubt it — but there’s an attraction there that brings us together nonetheless. 

Is it normal? Fuck no. Is it right? I guess many would call it wrong, but they don’t feel what I do as Liam’s ass spasms around me and I fill him with cum. They don’t see how he sits on my lap and rides me like a whore, his ass circling and gyrating so that I can’t see or think straight. They don’t hear the way he begs me to fuck him raw, to make him whimper for me to stop because he can’t take anymore. Every second with him is more chaotic than the last, the two of us rioting through the night, our perversions aired in a way we’ve never been able to do with anyone else. 

I should be relieved that I’ve found a way to cope with my mum’s betrayal of my dad, however, it’s hard to do when that coping mechanism is your step brother. And while it’s not something I want to see come to an end, I’m concerned about what will happen once we go back to our normal, everyday lives, away from the haven this holiday has become for us. Here we’re free to explore our desires, no matter how depraved they are. But out there, with the real world watching? Only time will tell. 

Staring up at the ceiling, my mind still mulling over everything that’s come to pass, I smugly grin as I hear my door quietly open. It’s a barely there sound, one easily missed by others, but not me. Oh no. I know what that sound means.

He’s mine for another night.

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