Scott Sherman - Third You Die

“Yeah,” Shaggy answered, looking at Brent again.

“Looks like you liked it a lot.” Brent’s tongue flicked across the lip he’d just chewed on. Shaggy’s cock gave another leap and, at its tip, a tiny damp spot leaked through the fabric. It was clear whoever chose Shaggy’s “costume” for this scene knew what they were doing-the pants were loose and sheer enough to conceal the details but hide nothing.

Shaggy’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack as if he was being hypnotized by the irresistible sexual pull of his friend. Although he was probably a foot taller than Brent and had fifty pounds of muscle on him, he appeared completely at the younger student’s mercy, spellbound and lost in a fog of thickening lust. The dichotomy of this little Brent so completely dominating the muscular, older stud only made the scene more thrilling.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Freddy said. For once, he wasn’t talking about the ice cream.

He was right. I’ve seen the “behind the scenes/making of” extras that come with adult films, and they always show the actors “prepping” for their scenes by getting themselves hard just before the camera starts rolling. Either they’re only gay for pay, or they just find it difficult to get excited on the artificial, uncomfortable environment of a movie set. In any case, there’s always a cut before the pants come off to reveal an erection.

I couldn’t remember ever seeing someone get excited “before your eyes” like this. And it wasn’t just the boner, which now pulsed with a steady intensity that matched Shaggy’s increasingly loud breathing. It was everything-Shaggy’s glazed but somehow alarmed expression, his half-open mouth, the way his body tensed as if about to spring forward or leap away.

Brent reached out and put just the tip of his finger against Shaggy’s knee. “Did they make you jerk them off?”

Shaggy nodded.

Brent’s finger traced a fraction of an inch higher.

“Did they take off your clothes?”

“Yesss…” Shaggy hissed. His cock gave another massive lurch and the spot at its tip spread wider, the stain now the size of a quarter.

Still just teasing with the tip of his finger, Brent slowly ran it up the inside of Shaggy’s thigh, stopping midway between knee and balls. He leaned closer, too, his face inches from his friend’s, close enough that I imagined Shaggy felt his breath against his cheek.

“Did you get hard?”

Shaggy groaned. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Brent leaned back an inch.

“Yes!” Shaggy corrected.

Brent smiled and brought his other hand inside Shaggy’s legs, too, matching its partner’s placement. He laid them both flat against Shaggy’s thighs, making small circles with his thumbs.

“Like I’m making you hard?”

“Yesssss,” Shaggy panted.

Brent ran his hands higher, up and down, almost touching Shaggy’s balls then sliding back down. Over and over while he made Shaggy talk.

“Tell me what I’m doing to you, buddy.”

“You’re making me so fucking hard, man,” Shaggy moaned.

“Like this?” Brent spread his legs and displayed his own tented shorts.

“Aw, fuck.” Shaggy sounded like he was going to cry. His hard-on seemed to stretch almost to his navel as it discharged another round of precome, soaking his white pants to the point of transparency, the pinkness of the head now evident against the see-through cotton.

“You’re so sensitive down there,” Brent said. “Did they touch you anywhere else?”

Shaggy could only nod.

Brent took his hands and brought them to Shaggy’s nipples, which strained against his light blue tee. “Here?” He alternately squeezed and flicked them, playing them expertly. Shaggy’s hands gripped the bedspread in an attempt to keep them from doing god-knows-what, while he unconsciously humped his hips into the air, unable to keep them still, causing his clearly overstimulated cock to thrash around in his pants.

“You like that, man?” Brent asked.

Shaggy nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I like it.”

“What about this?” Brent squeezed Shaggy’s nipples harder.

“Oh, fuck,” Shaggy cried.

Brent twisted them. Shaggy threw his head back and let out a high keen. His lap jerked upward, desperate for contact, but Brent sat back.

“What do you want?”

“Come on,” Shaggy moaned. “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t.”

Brent kept one hand alternating between Shaggy nipples while bringing the other to Shaggy’s lips. He lightly traced them with his index finger.

“Don’t what, baby?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Shaggy tried to catch Brent’s finger in his mouth, but Brent teased him, moving it just out of reach.

“What do you want, baby?” He took the finger not at Shaggy’s mouth and returned it to the inside of Shaggy’s thigh, this time running it right under his balls. Shaggy humped uncontrollably, spastically, like a man receiving an electric shock.

“Oh,” he panted. “Uh-uh-uh.”

“Tell me.” Brent was insistent.

“Everything,” Shaggy shouted. “I want everything.”

“Good boy,” Brent said. He put one finger against Shaggy’s lips, then slipped it inside. Shaggy sucked vigorously, like a man dying of thirst.

Brent stood, his grin triumphant, his own crotch bulging insistently in Shaggy’s direction. He removed his hand from Shaggy’s crotch and unzipped himself, letting his own oversized hard-on pop free and point at Shaggy’s hungry face, an angry crimson sword that had its own dew gathering at the tip.

Shaggy moaned around Brent’s finger. Brent stepped closer, straddling his sex-dazed captive. He removed his finger and replaced it with the tip of his cock against Shaggy’s now glistening, plumped lips. “Did they make you do this? Did they make you suck their dicks?”

Shaggy nodded again. He lunged forward, but Brent stepped back.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, man,” Shaggy pleaded. “Give it to me.”

Brent took his cock in hand and wagged it in small circles. “Give you what, man?” At the same time, he gently, gently cupped Shaggy’s balls, eliciting another mewling cry.

“Your cock, man. In my mouth. I gotta have it.”

Brent stepped forward and let just the tip of his dick slide between Shaggy’s lips. Shaggy’s eyes flew open then fluttered ecstatically as he nursed like a baby, trying desperately to swallow more while Brent controlled the pace.

In the meantime, Brent extended a finger again and placed it at the base of Shaggy’s long dick, still encased in his pants but now completely visible through the drenched cotton. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid it toward the head.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Shaggy cried, his words intelligible but muffled by the mouthful Brent was feeding him.

Brent began a fucking motion, back and forth, in and out, using Shaggy’s mouth like a sex toy while teasing him mercilessly.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Shaggy humped against Brent’s lazy finger like a crazy man, rubbing his ass against the bed and sliding his pants down just enough that his raging hard-on broke free, popping from his pants like a jack-in-the-box, splattering precome all over his T-shirt and Brent’s hand.

“Yeah, baby,” Brent said, “that’s it. Good boy.”

Brent drove in deeper while still running his finger up Shaggy’s pole, but now skin against slick skin.

“Uuuuh!!!” Shaggy wailed. I was willing to bet he was incapable of speech at that moment. The sound that came from him was primal, animalistic.

Brent slid all the way in, pubes to chin. Shaggy’s eyes bugged open as if he couldn’t believe what had found its way inside of him. But, if anything, his cock got even harder, stretched beyond what I’d have thought possible.