Ups and Downs
By: Brock Archer
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 7
Joe and Mr. Sullivan

“Amy told me what happened,” replied Mr. Sullivan when I asked him what he was doing at the store. “She thought maybe you had come over to our house. I promised her that I would find you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” I stammered.

“Well, I don’t know about long term,” he acknowledged, “but tonight you’re coming home with me. You need to get some sleep and leave the rest until the morning.”

He was right. I did need sleep. But I didn’t know if I could sleep with all the thoughts and emotions that were turning me into a whirling mess.

“Your dad is upset and confused right now,” Mr. Sullivan said when we got back to his house. “Let him cool off tonight, and I’m sure he’ll come back to his senses in the morning.”

“You really think so?” I asked

“Sure.”

But I could tell he wasn’t sure. And neither was I. But there was nothing I could do about it in the moment.

“Come here,” he said when he saw that I was on the verge of tears. Wrapping his big strong arms around me, he held me tight and made me feel just a little bit safer. I hugged him back, and I know I probably would have crushed a less solid man. As I began to loosen my grip, he did the same, but with my world spinning out of control, I was moving in slow motion. I needed someone to be my anchor.

When I looked up at him and our eyes met, I knew that I needed him. I leaned into him and kissed him on the lips. His lips were soft, but everything supporting them was hard as a rock. He was the man I needed at that moment.

He kissed me back slowly and sweetly, but confidently, reassuringly. I had to let him know just how much I needed him, so I parted my lips, inviting him to enter with his tongue, which he did. I don’t know how a thing can be gentle and strong at the same time, but he was—not just his tongue in my mouth, but every inch of him.

We kissed standing in his family room until my knees began to melt, and I pulled him down to the floor with me. Without breaking our kiss, we rolled on the floor, taking turns as to who would be on top and who on bottom. As much as I loved lying on top of his manly body, I loved even more the feeling of having him blanket me with his masculine frame. He made me feel safe, secure. Where my life had been in a free fall, he caught me and convinced me that nothing else mattered but the two of us…at least for the time being.

I unbuttoned and removed his shirt and rubbed my hands, then my cheeks, over his hairy chest. I had to feel his masculinity. I just wanted to bury my face in that luscious man cave between his furry pecs and never come up for air.

I kissed his nipples and licked his chest all over, dissolving into the feel of the thick carpet and the musky aroma of his manliness. “I haven’t showered,” he cautioned me when I approached his arm pits with my tongue, but I didn’t care. Actually, I did care. I cared so much that I had to taste his sweat. I had to soak up every trace of his androgyn and testosterone.

Working my way down his thick treasure trail, I paused to unbuckle his belt when he grabbed my hand. “Joe. You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Actually, sir, I do have to do this…not because I owe you, but because I need you. Tonight, I need all of you.”

Instead of letting me proceed, though, he pulled me up to meet him face to face. Wrapping his strong hands around my head, he kissed me again, more passionately than before. He rolled over on top of me and paused the kissing only long enough to pull my shirt over my head, exposing my smooth chest, replicating my motions, kissing my nipples, and licking my body all over.

At my belly button, he lingered to explore with his tongue. When he got to my belt buckle, he paused and looked up to me as if to ask, “Are you sure?” I didn’t have to speak. The desperate desire in my eyes spoke for me. I was ready, willing, and eager.

My cock was already beginning to stiffen when he removed my belt and pulled down my jeans and underwear. Though he had seen my dick many times before, he moaned at the sight of it. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he said. Maybe he was just being nice, but I needed to hear that. My father had just humiliated me, made me feel worthless, like a piece of shit. I needed to be reassured. I needed to know that I was worth something. I needed Mr. Sullivan to take my dick, my essence, into his mouth, and he did.

As my dick expanded to its full proportions in his mouth, I moaned with pleasure, not just because of the physical sensation, which was naturally intense, but because I wanted so badly to be with him, to be part of him. I wanted him to swallow my entire being.

As much as I wanted to turn the tables and reciprocate, I couldn’t let go. I had to give myself to him, so I lay there on the floor and let him take me.

When I exploded into his mouth, my entire body shook like crazy. My synapses fired on all cylinders from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It was much more than a sexual orgasm; it was a validation. It was—dare I say it—a redemption, a psychedelic resurrection from the depths of hell, a reaffirmation of my worth as a man, as a human being.

As I continued to spasm, my savior held me, cushioning me from bumping my head against the hardwood floor. And when it seemed safe to do so, he kissed me. I could taste the residue of my cum in his mouth, and it was comforting, another way of sharing myself with him. In Paul Stookey’s Wedding Song (There Is Love), one line says, “Woman takes her life from man and gives it back again.” In this case, I felt that Mr. Sullivan was giving back the life he had taken from me, and it was sacramental.

“Now you need to get to bed,” he insisted, as he led me toward Jeff’s bedroom.

“No!” I commanded, with all the breathy voice I could muster up. “That was fantastic, and I do need to sleep, but when I said that I needed you tonight—all of you—I really meant it. I need you inside of me.”

Evidently not taking me seriously, he chuckled, “But you’re a top. You’ve never.... You don’t really—”

“Ethan was a top too,” I interjected. “But he wanted me inside of him, and it changed him. He may still be mostly a top, but he is no longer the same man he was. That experience opened up a whole new world for him, and I want that too. I want you to take me and show me that new world.”

Mr. Sullivan just gazed at me for a few seconds, contemplating his options, no doubt, before lifting me up in his bare, muscular arms and carrying me into the bedroom—not Jeff’s room, but the bedroom that he shared with his wife.

When he laid me on his bed, I pulled him down onto me, squeezing him and kissing him passionately. As I had started to do before he took control in the family room, I unfastened his pants and pulled them off along with his boxer briefs and shoes, exposing his full, glorious masculinity.

I licked his feet and sucked on his toes before licking my way up his legs to his musky perineum, which I saturated with my saliva. I licked his balls, taking each one separately into my mouth, wanting desperately to swallow them whole.

I licked his hardening cock up one side, down the other, and all around. Gawd, it was hot—long, thick, and so inviting. I teased him with tongue flicks across his piss slit before sliding my lips over his crown. By the time I engulfed his dick—as much of it as I could—he was rock hard and throbbing, aching for relief. I so badly wanted to force his man juice up from his generous balls, through his magnificent shaft, and into my voracious mouth, but I wanted even more to feel his manhood inside my guts, so I backed off.

Swiveling around, I resumed sucking his dick while at the same time pressing my ass against his mouth. He sank his tongue into my virgin hole and drove me wild with his expert rimming. I thought I was going to orgasm with his tongue fucking alone, but I willed myself to hold back.

He caught me off guard when he flipped me over on my back and lifted my legs over his mammoth shoulders. He prepped my hole with one finger and then two, digit fucking me like a pro, slowly and meticulously.

“Ready?” he asked politely.

“I’ve been ready,” I answered. “Fuck me, daddy.”

I had never used that word in a sexual context before. On the one hand, it felt a bit weird, but at the same time, it felt so right.

After spitting on my hole and on his penis, he rubbed the head of his prick against my rosebud, tantalizing me. When he pressed his cock past my sphincter ring, my raw nerves burned like hell, but I felt such a sense of accomplishment for enduring the pain. No pain, no gain, as they say, and damn, did I want to gain!

“Relax, kid. It’ll get better.” Echoing in my head were the very same words I had used with other guys I had deflowered. This time, though, I was on the receiving end of the life-changing rite of passage. And sure enough, it got better. The pain subsided, and the pleasure grew.

Mr. Sullivan slid his massive cock in and out of my love canal slowly, rhythmically, penetrating deeper and deeper with each inward move until he ultimately hit my love button, my prostate. “Ah!” I gasped. I had seen that reaction before from other guys, but I had never fully understood the sensation, the experience. It was an awakening, a sensory and sensual breakthrough.

My man continued to press slowly until I screamed, “Fuck, man! Harder! You said you always wanted to fuck me, so do it like you mean it. Fuck the goddam shit out of me, stud!”

“Oh, you want my cock, huh?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

“Say it like you mean it,” he said, throwing my own words back at me.

“I want your cock.”

He accelerated the pace of his thrusts, but only very gradually, teasing me. “Huh? What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I want your cock,” I raised my voice.

“Huh? Whatdya’ say?”

“I want your cock, dammit,” I shouted.

He increased the pace again, ever so slightly.

“Oh, you like my cock? You like the feel of my cock fucking your ass, huh?”

He knew how much I liked hearing him talk dirty when he fucked the guys at my dad’s hardware store. He was taunting me, making me beg for it.

“Oh, gawd, yes. I love the feel of your big, beautiful cock fucking my ass.”

“What’s that? More? Did I hear you say you want more?”

“Yes, daddy, fuck me hard. Fuck me deep.”

“Brace yourself, kid. I’m about to fuck your ass from here into the next fucking galaxy.”

And with that, he let loose, pounding me like a goddam jack hammer.

“Oh, gawd,” I screamed. “Fuck!” I couldn’t help but think of how Ethan had screamed when I popped his cherry and how I worried that we would wake the whole neighborhood.

“Go ahead, kid. Scream your fucking head off. Ain’t nobody gonna save you now. You’re mine, and I’m gonna drill my goddam dick straight through your virgin guts until you feel my boiling cum squirt out of your fucking eyeballs.”

And scream I did. As long and thick as his dick was, I never thought I could take it all until I felt his big hairy balls slap against my ass cheeks. My ass burned like hell, but the delirium caused by the pounding of my prostate overrode all else. I could not believe what I was feeling. My head was spinning from the draining of blood from my brain to my cock, which flapped against my belly with each ramming thrust of his shaft.

The tempest in my ass had completely distracted me from the fact that my cock was aching for relief. I tried to stroke it, but every time I reached for it, he slapped my hand away. “That’s mine,” he demanded. “Your ass is mine, and your cock is mine. Say it!”

“My ass is yours,” I gasped with all the energy I could drum up. “My cock is yours.”

“Damn right,” he barked as he thrust deeper and harder than before.

Though the ache in my groin only got stronger, a part of me deep in my soul loved it. This was what I craved. I had always dominated the men and boys who came to the back room in the hardware store, but this night I wanted someone to dominate me, to take me, to make me completely his.

Periodically, he would brush his hand lightly against my throbbing cock just to torture me, and every time he did, I gasped or screamed. “Oh, shit, man. Oh, fuck!”

“You want my seed, kid? You want me to breed your virgin ass?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Please breed me. I want to feel your hot juices inside me.”

“OK, kid. Here it comes.” And come it did. I felt his cock pulsate with each ejaculation. I felt his gushing cum hitting my prostate. And then I felt my own. With no hand on it—neither his nor mine—my cock exploded, blasting bombs of my own cum over my head, all over my face, into my mouth as I screamed for merciful relief, and all over my chest and belly. It was a cum bath like none I had ever experienced before. But as good as it felt, it was his cum inside of me that I cherished the most.

“Sleep, Joe,” he whispered in my ear after collapsing on top of me, squishing my abundant cum between our sweaty bodies.

*******

I had thought earlier in the evening that I would never sleep, but I did. Man, did I ever! I had planned to be up at the crack of dawn to go home—damn, it felt strange to hear myself say that. Home. What the hell is that? Anyway, like I said, I had planned to go home early to collect my things and head out to the university. I was due there at 1:00 for freshman orientation.

Dawn had long passed, though, when I woke up around 9:30. Mr. Sullivan left a note that he had to go to work. He said that Mrs. Sullivan would be returning home from her business trip that afternoon, and he asked me to keep in touch. I got the hint. He took me in for one night, but I couldn’t stay there. I would have to find some other place to go. Where? I had no idea.

I had dried cum all over me from the night before—actually from early that morning—so I showered quickly, threw on the same clothes I had worn the day before, and drove over to the house—what I still thought of as my house.

When I got there, I found Amy again sitting on the front porch, surrounded by boxes of my things that she had so considerately packed up for me. My dad had, of course, left hours before to open the store. I had hoped to see my mom, but she was absent too. Is Mom avoiding me for the same reason that Dad wanted me out of the house? Have I lost her too?

Amy helped me load the boxes into my car and then suggested that we go back to the porch and talk. “I would love to, Sis, but I’ve gotta get over to the university before orientation starts. This is my first day, ya know.”

“Joe,” she spoke somberly. “About that….”

To be continued...

Posted: 07/29/2022