Nick Angel makes unforgetable video
Posted on | July 6, 2010
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Author’s note – this was written as a one off short story, but once completed, it occured to me that it could be developed a lot more. I would appreciate your thoughts. And thanks for all those who have commented on my other stories.
Ferg.
—
I had wanted to fuck John for as long as I could remember.
All through my youth it tormented me.
I was brought up as a Catholic; so being tormented by carnal desires was all part of the deal. I attended mass every Sunday and observed the days of obligation, gave up chocolate during lent and got confirmed in my faith. I went to confession every week and poured out my heart; said the words of penance so that my sins would be absolved. I took Holy Communion under the press-ganging of my parents, knowing fine well that it was wrong. How could I be worthy of accepting the Eucharist, the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, when sin was still eating my soul? For no priest had ever heard my darkest secret and had absolved me of my nature. I was gay and an abomination in the eyes of my religion. I wanted to fuck men… and most of all; I wanted to fuck my best friend, John.
Oddly enough, despite being best friends, John and I went to different schools. That was sectarian Scotland for you: bigotry was instilled in us right from the start. John was a Protestant, and therefore an unlikely playmate; in rural Scotland the religions tend to keep apart.
‘Good King Billy’ and ‘Fuck the Pope’ those were the chants that still ring in my ear. ‘Fennian Bastards’ we were called, but never by John: he couldn’t understand the hatred that twisted our community’s soul.
We were thrown together from and early age. We both lived in a little hamlet miles from the main town. We were the only two kids in the area; one Catholic and one Protestant — but with no one else around; what were we supposed to do. We were two little boys from across a mystical divide which lost all meaning when play was afoot: two lonely little boys who found an unlikely friend, and who made a pact to rise above the sectarian nonsense that tore our wider community apart.
We attended different schools, but it didn’t really effect us. John was almost two years younger than me; so we would have been in different year groups whatever. We had our own friends at school then we would come home to our little hamlet, and there it would be only John and I. The age difference wasn’t much of an issue. I suppose I looked on John as a younger brother and fell into that sort of role; acting as his protector and his mentor. I liked that — looking after him, and he seemed to like it as well. We were a perfect pairing as two little lads… and then we had to grow up.
I think I suspected it even before puberty hit me, but certainly once it did, I knew for sure. I realised I was gay. I was attracted to men. Men of all types started to dominate my thoughts as hormones flooded my body. I tried to force it away; tried to think of women as I played with my cock, which suddenly was demanding so much attention. But it was men that I thought about — they wouldn’t go away, despite all my prayers to a God I now questioned, in a church that decreed I was doomed to burn in hell. I thought about men, big beefy men, hairy and hungry for my ass. I thought about these men fucking me as I jerked on my cock… and I also thought about John.
That was the one that really got to me and tormented me with guilt. I could rationalise the rest, I managed to come to terms with it; but not about John… somehow that seemed wrong. Wrong beyond the dictates of a faith that I was determined to abandon at the first opportunity I got.
I suppose when you’re a kid you experiment in the mind. Conjure up scenarios and see which ones suit you best. Big beefy guys with hairy chests — that certainly did it for me. I fantasised over these anonymous men fucking me; but there was something else that snapped at me when I was jerking off. I wanted to do some fucking of my own, and it wasn’t big beefy men with hairy chests that flashed through my head as I envisaged sticking my cock up another man’s arse… it was John.
How could it not be? He was as cute as pie; blue eyes and longish floppy blonde hair, perfect skin and a smile that cut me to core. John was beautiful; as a boy he was beautiful — and as a youth became totally stunning.
It was during the school holidays one year that the big event happened. John’s parents took us out for the day. We went to Butlin’s — a holiday camp, which welcomed day visitors like us. We messed around on the funfair for a few hours then moved on to the afternoon attraction – the swimming pool and water slides. John and I went off to get changed in the locker room. My teenage eyes were everywhere as we stripped out of our clothes; searching for a glimpse of an arse or a cock; preferably on a big beefy hairy guy. John stood beside me as we changed into our trunks; and it was then that I saw his arse. It was a vision of such loveliness that became imprinted on my brain — a vision that then haunted me for years to come, invading my teenage wanks.
It was a vision that caused a barrier to be erected. Our days of innocence were over, and I was a wretch… an abomination of nature who wanted to fuck his best friend. I wanted to fuck John with a passion. This lad that was so cute, so sweet and so nice. What alternative did I have? Our relationship changed from that moment onwards, the protector was now suddenly a threat. So I created a distance between me and my best friend. Mine was a sin that I would keep to myself. I would not corrupt John with such foulness.
I know! Such silliness; but I was a young lad and a Catholic, reared in the faith. What a funny bunch we are!
***
I started shagging when I went to university. East Sussex University would you believe: not because it had the course I wanted to do; or a reputation for academic excellence; but because it was near to Brighton; England’s premier gay resort by the sea; and because it was far from Scotland, and my parents who would be appalled by what I was.
I found that sex came easy there for a young lad of eighteen. I got fucked plenty of times and learned how to shag an ass as well. I took my further education very seriously and experimented with a variety of things. But I soon sussed out what I enjoyed the most; my boyhood wanks made real.
The majority of gay men, or so I am told, tend to gravitate towards one role or the other: passive or active; bottom or top… call it what you will. But not me: I like it both ways. I love getting shagged… and doing the shagging. And whilst I was too young to have got into a rut; I knew what I wanted in both scenarios. I preferred to get fucked by big hairy men with massive dicks, guys who made it perfectly clear they were in charge and who could shag for hours on end. And when I was doing the fucking; I preferred cute young lads with bubble butt asses and lean smooth bodies: blonde hair was a preference but not essential for these lads that would spread their cheeks for me.
Odd perhaps to have such polarised tastes; but that’s where my fantasies took me. In reality, however, I had to settle for less. The hairy studs who had fucked me; too often had dicks which proved disappointingly small and stamina that was frequently lacking. And the cute young lads who had let me fuck them, had arses that were good and I banged them several times; but none of them were a match on John’s.
When I lay in bed at night wishing I had some company; that’s what I still dreamed of when I jerked myself off. Me fucking John’s fabulous peachy arse and a big hairy stud bang into me. It did it for me every time!
***
It was John who suggested the trip. He had just turned eighteen and finished school, and had decided to take a gap year before starting his degree at Reading University the following year. His plan was to do some voluntary work in Africa, but before that he thought it would be good for us to do some travelling together. We had grown apart since I had left home and John wanted to rekindle the special bond we had as kids. It was very sweet, and very typical: he really was the best of lads.
I came back to Scotland at the end of the academic year and we worked for the local council for two months to raise some cash then headed off back-packing around Europe. The plan was to get to Athens overland by rail and by bus; taking in much of southern Europe on route; then spend a week on some Greek island before catching a flight home. And it all went well; we saw France and northern Italy and took in some old world culture: then Slovenia and Croatia, new countries that had opened up and joined the great European Union. It all went fine until we left that union, and entered Albania!
It was interesting in a way travelling through such an underdeveloped country; but I wasn’t over impressed. I was keen to get to Greece and hopefully hit Mykinos where there would be plenty of action for a randy gay young man. It was there at the end of our trip that I planned to come out to John, confess and hope that he would accept. He was leaving Scotland and his childhood behind; it was time I told him the truth about my deviant nature. I was sure I could trust him not to reveal it to anyone else.
John, however, being more adventurous than me; thought Albania to be a wonderful place and wanted to travel through it taking a slow and meandering route, well away from the beaten track; not that there was much of a beaten track in the first place. I agreed; he was my friend, and I was his protector; of course I agreed. A few more days before Mykinos wouldn’t make that much difference.
We travelled through Albania by bus. Thankfully it wasn’t a large country so it wasn’t too long before we were near the border with Greece and a return to civilisation. We arrived at the border village of Kakavija in the early evening and decided it would be best to stay overnight then cross over to Greece in the morning. We found a small guest house which was a bit of a flea pit; but it was better than sleeping rough. The following day we set off early, intending to cross over by foot, and hitch or walk to Zagoria where we would be able to carry on by bus.
We were the only people at the customs when we arrived, which initially I took to be a good thing, thinking we would be whisked through. The strange thing was that it all went fine at the Albanian side; it was when we passed into Greece that we hit the problem.
The Greek officer manning the desk at the other side of the border took an eternity to go through our passports; looking at the photographs then at us; then back to the passport again unable to decide if we were real or not. I wasn’t too bothered about this: the officer was a bit of all right. Thirty at a guess and very butch looking; dark skinned with heavy black stubble on his chin. His short sleeved shirt revealed thick hairy arms and more black hair sprouted out of his open neck collar. Then he stood up. He was very tasty indeed; six feet two of natural mass; big and brawny with chunky thighs and a crotch that looked vibrantly alive: I was sure the big bastard was semi-hard, and a fine piece of meat it was as well. The effect was rounded off nicely with the gun he carried on his right hip. It was a very horny sight indeed.
“Wait,” he said. Then he turned round to show off his big chunky ass which was held tight in his dark blue uniform trousers. He walked off, taking our passports with him, and disappeared behind a door.
I was too busy day dreaming about getting fucked by this big ape to realise we were in trouble and that I had a young friend to protect. Five minutes later the ape reappeared along with two other men.
The younger of these two, I would have placed in his mid-twenties. He was strikingly handsome and impeccably dressed; he was clean shaven, and had only a dusting of black hair on his arms. At about five feet ten he was the shortest of the three; but very sexy none the less.
The older one would have been in his mid-thirties, and was another hairy ape who had deliciously surrendered himself to the morning heat and removed his uniform shirt, and wore only a white vest above his uniform trousers. His chest was gloriously full; big nipples protruding under the cotton which was stretched over bulging pecs; and a mass of sleek black hair covered every inch of the chest which was revealed by the vest. I thought he looked fabulous as I took all this in – a real treat for the eyes so early in the morning; and then I changed my mind!
It was obvious to me that this older guy was the one in charge, as he was dishing out orders to the other two men. Under normal circumstances I would have found this an added turn on; but he started to make me very nervous as he checked us out; flicking glances at the passports then on to us. It was the way he kept leering at John: cute, barely legal, blue-eyed blondes with bubble butt asses to die for were clearly very much to his taste! I knew there and then we were in deep, deep, shit; and despite this my cock was rampantly hard.
They consulted for a few minutes; flicking more glances at us and raising the odd smile and a laugh. Then the older guy barked out a few final orders before walking off and disappearing behind the door.
“Please, come with us,” said the younger man.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“This way please,” he insisted, raising his voice to a level that suggested he didn’t expect to be refused. A finger tap on his gun holster underlined his request. I thought it best to comply.
We were led into the room behind the door through which they had emerged; it was sparsely furnished with two work desks, a large table and a few chairs. The wall nearest the table was covered by a mirror. We were asked to put our back packs on the table and stand away from them. The oldest man was already seated in a corner of the room: his legs spread wide and his hands resting on his crotch: he was staring at John’s ass.
“Have you been taking any illegal substances whilst in Albania?” asked the young guy. I suspected he was the only one who spoke English.
“No,” I replied on behalf of us both. “Look what’s this about. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“The captain believes you may be involved in trafficking drugs.” He nodded to the older guy in the chair who was looking at John as if he were his breakfast, and he hadn’t eaten the previous day.
“We need to search your bags,” the young guy stated. Clearly there was to be no choice on our part.
A nod was given to the hairy ape we had first encountered; who I surmised was the junior officer in the crew. He embarked on tipping out all our belongings; first onto the table then scattering them on the floor. Apparently satisfied that nothing illegal was there, he barked out something in Greek and moved away.
“We now need to search you clothing, and your body cavities; please undress.”
“I don’t think so,” I blurted out; the protector in me prevailing over the wanton slut.
“Please do not make us use force. Undress! Now!” the young guy snapped. The gun came out of his holster and was pointed directly at my face. Calling his bluff didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Do it,” I said to John. “And do what I say. Okay? This could turn nasty: the main thing is to come out of it alive. Okay?”
“Okay,” John replied in a trembling voice.
We stripped off and stood waiting; they didn’t even bother to search our clothes. They just looked at us; the captain playing with his hardening dick: I knew what was coming next.
“Bend over the table and spread your buttocks,” commanded the young guy.
I did so, and John followed my lead. I could see what was happening behind us in the mirror: John elected to close his eyes, too terrified to watch. The captain got out of his chair and came over to us: all hair and bulging muscles, and an even bigger bulge in his pants. He looked fabulous and I couldn’t help but feel aroused as well as scared; my cock was once again rigid, pressing into the table.
The captain came to me first and knelt behind me, had a good look at my asshole then stood up; he applied some lube to his fingers then proceeded to insert them into me. First a single digit went exploring then two then three probing all around my ass and prodding in and out of my ring, frigging me hard; teasing my inner wall and pressing down on my prostate. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed it and had to stifle my whorish moans. The big bastard knew how to frig a hole and had me gagging for a fuck.
He withdrew after five minutes and stroked my buttocks. I’m sure I gave myself away by wriggling my ass in appreciation; which probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Then he moved on to John.
“It’s okay, John,” I said. “It won’t hurt; just try and stay relaxed; don’t tense.”
I’m ashamed to admit, that the idea of the big hairy Greek captain fingering John made me feel as horny as hell. It was a terrible thing to have happen; really degrading and perhaps traumatising for my young innocent friend; and I had a raging hard on as I watched it in the mirror. I watched the captain kneel down and then stand up with a huge grin on his face. I could see his cock outlined in his trousers; a monster of a prick if ever there was one. I could see his delight as he fingered John’s hole… and I wished it was me who was doing it instead. What a sick bastard of a friend John had!
When the captain was finished, rounding off with a worryingly lengthy stroking of John’s fabulous buttocks, playing with his crotch whilst he did it; I dared to ask if they were satisfied with the search.
“Please stand up and turn round,” ordered the young officer.
We did so; and to both our embarrassments we were sporting rather impressive erections. I assumed that the fingering must have stimulated John’s prostate and caused an involuntary response. I was simply aroused by the whole process; and if it weren’t for John’s presence; I would be suggesting that the captain now shag me. The other two could have a go as well if they were up for it. I would happily get fucked by all three. They were a right horny bunch and no mistake; and I hadn’t had a shag in over a month.
The officers laughed at out state, which we both hid with our hands; then the young one produced a small lump of something wrapped in Clingfilm.
“You were carrying hashish. A small quantity admittedly, but it is illegal to bring any form of drugs into Greece.”
“That’s not the case and you know it,” I replied.
“Do not cross me, young man. The penalty is imprisonment; but the paper work involved for such a minor offence is too tiresome, so we will let you off with a fine. Ten thousand euros each and we will let you go free.”
I laughed at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. “Well, off course we just happen to be carrying twenty thousand euros with us. I think you know we can’t pay the fine.”
“Then you must be taught a lesson in another way.”
“Fair enough, but teach me: I’m the guilty one; my friend did nothing.”
The young officer translated this for the captain; who smiled and made his reply in Greek.
“The captain insists that you are both punished. He will reluctantly administer the punishment himself; I and my colleague will assist him.”
I watched on as the captain stood up and pulled off his vest. It was a stunning sight, the sleek mat of black hair ran from his neck all the way down to the bottom of his rib cage, then tapered off to a band running down to his navel and beyond to his still hidden pubes. His nipples were big and erect, sitting proud on his meaty pecs.
Then he unfastened his belt buckle; undid his button and flies and pulled out his massive dick; ten inches of olive coloured cock, with a whopping great purple head at the end. He stood there for a few minutes stroking this monster and making sure we had a good look at what our punishment would be. I personally couldn’t wait to get it up my arse; but my excitement was tempered by the knowledge that such a brute would tear a young virgin’s butt to shreds; poor John; what a nightmare for the lad.
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