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drunken gay fuckign story

Alcohol makes these boys wanna try gay sex.
We ainТt alcoholics Ц we just get these boys drunk and fuck Сem any way we want to.
After a few shots of vodka their secret wishes come to life.
Alcohol and cum is their favorite cocktail!

where to find these nasty gays?

real drunked boys

Archive-name: Samesex/anton.txt


Archive-title: Anton

Chapter One


After going to bed, showered and, of course, naked, Anton had lain

awake for some time. Then he got up again and fetched the hand towel

from the wash-station. He placed this by his hips when he lay down.

His intention was obvious. He was lying on his back, with his left

hand caressing the inside of his thigh, and nuzzling up against his

balls. His forefinger began stroking the adjacent testicle. His other

hand was flat on his stomach. His penis lay where it had flopped, the

glans between the other ball and his thigh. It was clearly stirring.

The upper hand began to migrate south, stroking the sensitive skin

of the smooth area between the navel and the pubic hair. He had a

thick forest, but low down and with a clean upper line. When they

reached the root of his phallus, he parted his forefinger and second

finger, and ran this vee down to embrace the thickening shank. A few

pushes, with the fingers curving down to engage with the upper scro-

tum, and the glans looked distinctly heavy.

He transferred his forefinger to the other side of the shaft, and

hooked it below it, supporting it so that the glans, by now doubled in

size, was raised up. His thumb rubbed the upper surface of the shank,

and more fingers joined in the support. He took the hand away, to re-

assure himself of the presence of the towel, to catch the sperm and

perhaps to cover himself in case of an intrusion. When he removed his

hand, the shaft supported itself.

He switched on the bedlight, and lay admiring the growing weapon.

By now it was no mere stiffy, but a tree in full flare. He watched the

taut skin pulling slowly back across the glistening plum-surface of

his close textured glans. There was no quick flick of the fingers this

time: he was taking his time. When the skin finally caught up on the

flaring corona, the upturned rim of his glorious helmet, he pressed

down with both hands on his pubic lawn, stretching the skin on the

shaft enough to clear the rim.

The first stage of erection was complete, the ridge of skin below

the corona disappearing into smoothness as the penis filled to its

last inch. He used the towel to remove some of the stickiness from his

plum, wincing a little at the touch of the rough cloth.

Still Anton just lay there, admiring what was certainly very much

to be admired. Then he reached up for a picture book, the stiff member

wobbling in its weak rooting as his upper body arched. He brought the

picture of one beauty to the surface of the bed beside his loins. He

held the open book above his midriff for a long time, look at it, but

making no attempt to stimulate his organ. Apart from the occasionally

pulsing which is natural in an unattended erection, there was no obvi-

ous reaction in his tool.

He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand

down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod

of iron. His technique was obviously practised, but unsophisticated.

Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled –

full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the

curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As

the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting.

Relaxed – pumping not stopped, but much slowed, and the hand pres-

sure minimal. The he slipped the hand up higher, and began to caress

the point below the glans with the side of his finger. Some fluid had

formed at the eye of his shaft and he slicked it down over the point

as a lubricant.

He began to pump once more in this higher position. His sweat-

dewed face, mouth wide open in rictus of excitement; between the tun-

nel of his legs, the balls, now pulled high and close as orgasm

neared. His shaft was indeed now bending back over his belly as he

left the plateau for the summit.

Then again he relaxed. He reached a hand up to move the book,

placing it upright on the bed, propped against the side mirror wall of

the alcove and turned the upper part of his body so that he could

stare at it.

And his eyes thus engaged, he resumed the pumping action. A looser

grip at first, his hand sliding farther up and down the shaft, then a

tighter grip at the top, the side of his finger digging into the sen-

sitive point. He meant to complete the job this time.

His other hand was cupped to his bollocks, the forefinger digging

into the root of the shaft beneath the taut skin. Did he mean to halt

the flowing? His hips and thigh reared up once more, his toes and feet

twisting the sheet into knots beneath them. The sheen on his glans was

lost as the pores open up with the climactic blood flow. He would

come! He would come!

Too late did his ball hand clutch for the towel, for the first wad

was already airborne, flying to land above his navel. The twist of his

body sent the second jetting to a splatter on the side mirror. He was

obviously very full, for the third spasm also sent a glob into the

air, landing on his still pumping wrist. He spasm again and again, but

this time producing floods of more liquid spunk which flowed warmly

down onto the top of his hand. He spasmed a six and seventh time too,

but this time nearly dry – just a wide working of the glistening eye

of his dick. Then the pent-up breath was released.

Completely still, with his eyes closed, for about a minute, then

wiping the spunk from his stomach and hand. He began to milk the re-

maining juices from his dying cock, pulling upwards with the tip of

his forefinger pressed hard into the underside of his organ. He wiped

the gland carefully, so that the foreskin, now beginning to bunch be-

low his glans, wouldn’t stick too painfully when it had return to the

protection position. Finally he cleaned the mirror, before folding the

towel under his prick’s tip to mop up any last weeping.

Then he closed his eyes, flicked the light switch, and rolled over

on his side to sleep.

Chapter Two


Anton looked towards the door at the sound, then dropped a hand

quickly to his crotch, to flatten his erection and to conceal it? His

hand gripped his weapon. Feverishly he pulled at the unfamiliar zip,

but by the time Klaudio had entered, his penis was still exposed. An-

ton froze.

Klaudio stood facing the bed, and smiled. With an exaggerated ex-

pression of delight, he started to point to the various parts of the

prick, repeating their names. His pointing finger got closer and

closer, but still he did not touch it. As he got very close, Anton’s

hands clutched at the surface of the bed. How long would he bear this

language lesson, before grabbing his tool and stuffing it hastily away

inside his trousers?

But Klaudio knew what he was doing. He had become a doctor with a

friendly but detached beside manner. He looked at Anton’s face more

than his organ, obviously concentrating hard on his pronunciation.

Then he decided to go for it. With one hand he made the unmistake-

able gesture on the forefinger of his other of frigging, and repeated

the word for wank three times. He looked expectantly at Anton. “Do you

want me to wank you.” It was a neutral request – still the friendly

doctor offering treatment. Anton froze. Klaudio looked at him pa-

tiently, and was just at the point of asking again, when Anton grabbed

at his hand and pulled it into the general vicinity of his groin. He

closed his eyes, flung his head back and gripped the sheets. The pa-

tient was tensed for the cut of the knife!

But Klaudio gave the merest touch with the side of his bent fore-

finger to the underside of the glans. The corona of the penis flared.

He moved his other hand to cup above the shaft, as if warming himself

at its heat. Then slowly he began a two hand movement – the lower hand

a gentle fist the lower joints of whose fingers formed a knobbly flat

platform moving along the underside of the penis, while the other hand

formed a coving arched over the fist, gently trapping the shaft be-

tween them. Slowly it moved up and down the tool, sometimes gripping

enough to move the skin over the hard shaft, sometimes barely grazing

it. Sometimes the hands would move at different speeds, chafing the

surface; sometimes the knuckles or the joints of the fist would be

brought into play, their harder knobbles kneading the surface.

Anton’s eyes were still firmly clenched, as if he were gripping

his courage with the lids. His lips were pulled into a rictus, like a

smile but clearly not one. He needed to relax if he were to enjoy it.

Klaudio quietly changed his grip, and moved up the bed to kneel beside

his loins. Then with his free hand he gently stroked Anton’s forehead.

At the unexpected contact, his eyes sprang open. Klaudio cupped his

hand beneath his neck, casually grazing the erogenous zone behind his

ear, and raised his head so that they could look at each other. Klau-

dio raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly: a clear gesture meaning,

“Am I doing it right? Are you enjoying it?”

Klaudio changed hands, so that he had a one free to stimulate his

balls and upper inside thighs. He knew how far he could go with this

at this stage. There must be no hint of a movement towards the anus;

even the sensitive point at the root of the scrotum was out of bounds

at this stage. It must be purely penile, this orgasm.

Slowly Klaudio worked. This had to be a good one – a better one

than a quick hand job – but he could use only limited resources for

fear of spooking his charge. A short burst of speed had Anton groan-

ing, and the feet started working. His hands, which had released the

grip on the sheets now clutched them again, but from ecstasy not fear.

His body began to arch up, but Klaudio knew how to change his grip at

the right moment, holding him there for a full minute before reducing

the stimulation to allow him to get his breath. Anton’s face now

looked very different. The strain that showed there now was from a

different stable, and the open mouthed smile was real.

Five times did Klaudio make his loins rear up and hold him there,

until he was crying out to be allowed to come. Then he came – shooting

high to land on his taut, flat belly. Klaudio risked trapping the

later spurts with his lips pressed to the eye of Anton’s glans: he was

too far gone to notice even if he had bitten the end off. He reeled

back, practically in a faint. By the time he was taking notice again,

Klaudio had cleaned him up and zipped his flaccid weapon back into his

fly, and began the language lesson as if nothing had happened.

Chapter Three


As Anton entered, the lithe figure that had been lying on one of

the bunks arose to a relaxed position of attention to greet him. He

was about a year older than Anton, though he looked perhaps a little

younger than him. In many ways he was similar, a little lighter in

build, but clearly athletic. He was black haired, with a light olive

skin – the hair thick on his head and brows, but his body clear, ex-

cept for the inevitable dusting on his legs and lower arms. The per-

fect tan of him was the product of hours under the sun, with due care

to the arrangement of lighter and darker shadings to emphasise his

good looks. He had chosen to keep his sexual midriff white, always

wearing briefs, because he liked the bright contrast of the darker

stomach and thighs and the dramatic shock of thick black pubic hair.

He answered to Jag, or `Lightning Loins’. His voice was as smooth as

his skin and as dark as his hair.

Jag had then taken his clothes off and had lain on his bed read-

ing. After a while he expressed surprise that Anton was still dressed

and asked him if he were feeling cold. He explained that the heating

in the rooms was automatically increased in the later evenings. Anton

had then removed all but his underpants.

It was fairly obvious that Anton had been observing Jag’s body,

and Jag had been trying his best to show his best features without

making it too obvious that he know he was been examined. Clearly Anton

was too virginal to make any overtures, so Jag took the initiative. He

asked Anton if he had had sexual release that day. He stated that he

would be obtaining relief himself with a friend later, but stated that

he would be happy to assist Anton if he required it, and that he would

try to have the another friend fetched so that Anton could have some-

one to sleep with himself if he desired.

Anton was indignant at first, but the idea had been planted in his

mind, and soon spread to his loins. Though his mouth refused, his pe-

nis showed a different opinion. It soon became clear that he would

have to allow Jag to help him for there was to be no privacy for self

relief. And the painful hardness showed relief was necessary. Anton

submitted to Jag’s hands. Jag expressed a wish to help him enjoy him-

self as much as possible. When the act was thoroughly underway, and

his hands were controlling Anton to a near climax, he had suggested

that Anton allow him to use his mouth to make the act even more plea-

surable. Anton, who if in a less excited state who most certainly have

recoiled from the suggestion, gave a silent acquiescence to Jag, whose

warm mouth soon enclosed his shaft.

Jag’s hands, freed from duty ion the cock, slid easily over An-

ton’s body, massaging, pressing, brushing, tickling. He knew all of

the right spots to give attention to. When his mouth had carried Anton

beyond any chance of refusing, his fingers explored his anus – tick-

ling the puckered hole till it relaxed. Then an exploring finger en-

tered, searching for the walnut shape that was the prostate gland –

the seat of orgasm. When the shattering, shuddering climax came, that

gland was stimulated from inside and outside. The other hand wrested

the last ounce from the balls as the flood of seminal fluid exploded

from the spunk store, crashing through the prostate, to fly in spas-

modic wads up through the straining, surging shaft, filling Jag’s

mouth and throat faster than he could cope with it, and flooding out

down the sides of the pulsing, dying rod. Later Jag licked him com-

pletely clean – ready for the companion whom Anton would certainly now

accept to share his bed for the night…

March 2019
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