I'm Not a Fag, But He Is

I guess now, looking back on the situation, I had somewhat invited his attention. Or at least given him permission to get at least a little interested. In the moment, it didn't seem to me that there was much more too it than two horny guys masturbating in the same room...

Jonathan was my neighbor, and I often found myself sleeping over at his place. We'd play video games, mostly, or explore the attic of his big, old house. He lived with just his mom, and she was always at work or out late, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves most of the time.

He was a couple years older than me, but not bigger or faster or smarter. He didn't play any of the sports that I played, and never seemed to have a girlfriend, though he wasn't socially awkward or anything like that. Just kind of nerdy, but in good way, I guess.

I was the captain of the football team, on the honor roll, and could always seem to have a girlfriend of some sort, even if it wasn't always the first one I'd pick. Even though we were pretty different, we got along well and hung out often through high school. I was 18, in my senior year and headed to university, while Jonathan was going to community college and working at a coffee shop.

I don't recall why we decided to get naked, but I do remember barely-scrambled soft-core porn playing on the cable tv. Jonathan had more tv channels at his house than I'd ever known existed before, and some of them were pretty raunchy late at night and mostly watchable. I do remember that we both ended up naked, sitting on opposite sides of his living room, each with our erection in our own hands, watching and listening to some almost-porn on the tv.

There initially wasn't a lot of conversation. It was definitely the first time I'd ever masturbated in front of another guy, and I suspect that was true for Jonathan as well. I dd notice him looking over at me pretty frequently, though, and I wasn't sure whether or not that was what you were supposed to do when you jerked off with another guy. I of course couldn't help seeing him--he was naked over on the couch in the same room with me. What I immediately noticed, even though he was a bit taller than me and older, was that my erection was almost twice the size of his. He obviously noticed, too.

"Jeeze Aaron, your dick is really big. That's crazy how much bigger it is than mine."

I remember wishing that he'd stop talking. I didn't know what to say. And I really didn't even want to respond. I wanted to concentrate on the big-tittied lady being bent over and fucked on the the tv. I couldn't see her pussy or anything, but I could watch her breasts swing back and forth with the thrusts of the guy behind her.

"I think you're way above average, honestly, in terms of the size of that thing."

Jonathan was staring more intently now, forgetting about the porn on the tv and just pretty much focusing on me and my cock. I was a little uncomfortable now. I'm sure we had agreed to get naked and jerk off under the pretenses that this was the only room where we could watch the porno, and we were both horny and needed to cum. His comments and attention were distracting me from being able to focus on the tits in front of me and getting my balls emptied via my right hand.

"I mean it's big, but it's also pretty good looking. You have a big, pretty cock Aaron. I'm glad I get to see it like this."

This was more than I had bargained for. I was assuming a quick jerk off session to the porno and then we could get back to some video games or snacks. But Jonathan's constant commentary was making it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. There was, however, something that I liked about him talking about my cock. I would have much rather been in a room with a naked woman, but having anyone compliment my dick like that sort of turned me on. I sort of wanted to tell him to be quiet, but I also sort of wanted him to keep talking about my big dick. So I didn't reply. In fact, I hadn't said a word to Jonathan since we started all this. I had been turned so that I could see both him and the porn on the tv up until now, but decided I needed to concentrate on the naked woman getting fucked so that I could finally empty the cum from my pent up balls.

I turned a little to focus on the tv while I stroked my now very hard cock. For a few minutes I lost myself in thoughts about what it would be like to fuck the woman on the screen and watch her ass jiggle and her boobs swing back and forth. Jonathan had been quiet for a few minutes, I suppose allowing me to concentrate, or just caught up watching me and my big, pretty cock. But then, to my surprise, I heard him stand up. He walked over sat down on the floor right in front of me.

"Jesus, Jonathan. I'm trying to relieve the pent up pressure in my balls, man. I can't get a nut out with you sitting naked right in front of me. C'mon," I protested. He obviously heard the agitation in my voice, because he bowed his head and wouldn't look me in the eye. Not that I really wanted him to at that point.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted to get a better look at your dick. I mean I think you have a really nice one."

"Well, thanks, man. But I'm kind of busy. I don't really need a naked dude sitting in between me and the porn I'm trying to watch. It's pretty distracting man."

Continuing to look and the floor and without saying anything, Jonathan got up and walked back over to the couch he'd been sitting on. I refocused on the tv and the swinging tits, and got back to the task of stroking out a load, hopefully.

But then he came and sat back down in the same spot, between me and the porno. He was now clothed, however. He didn't look me in the eye at all, but wasn't looking at the floor, either. His eyes were focused on my big hard cock.

"Is this better?" he asked. "I don't want you to be distracted by a naked guy, that's obviously not your thing. But I do want to watch, if that's ok with you."

"I don't know, man. It seems kind of gay. I'm not sure I want some other guy so close to me, I'm not a fag," I said. I knew that jerking off in the same room was borderline gay, but as long as we kept to ourselves it didn't really seem that gay. Jonathan sitting at my feet, staring at my dick, felt like it crossed a line that I didn't want to cross.

"I'll be the fag," Jonathan said. I stopped stroking. Jonathan continued to look only at my cock. "You're not doing anything gay. I'm doing gay shit, staring at your cock like this. You be a man. I'll be the faggot."

I wasn't entirely surprised that Jonathan was interested in my cock. He never talked about girls, never dated any, and had some effeminate mannerisms. But I'd never really thought that he was gay. I supposed I didn't really care whether he was or not. But hearing him call himself a faggot was a bit of a shock to me. To come out and just say it like that. I wasn't quite sure what to think. I still kind of liked the attention he paid to my big dick, however. I was at least a little curious about what Jonathan meant, and I started leisurely stroking again. If he liked looking, I didn't mind putting on a bit of a show for him.

"What do you mean by 'you'll be the faggot'?" I asked. He didn't look up at me, but continued to stare at my cock.

"I could... I mean, I want to... help you," he said, hesitating and obviously nervous to discuss this with me.

I wasn't sexually attracted to Jonathan at all. He didn't have tits, or a plump little butt. And certainly no pussy for me to finger or eat or fuck. And I'm sure his skin was rough like a dude and there's no way he smelled all clean and fresh like a chick would. But I was attracted to the attitude he was displaying toward me. Now he was kneeling before me, his gaze fixated on my penis as I stroked, offering to help me.

I wasn't a fag. But I might have good use for one.

"How would you help me, Jonathan?" I think I knew what he meant. Not specifically, really, but it seemed to be pretty clear that he was offering to help me get off in one way or another. I wanted some more details, and I waned to hear it from his mouth. I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to hear himself say these sort of things out loud.

"I could stroke it for you, if you want. I think I want to. I think you deserve it. Your big dick deserves it. You deserve the relief. You shouldn't have to feel all backed up like this. All horny with no outlet except yourself. I want to help you like that," he said.

I was surprised by how much what he said turned me on. I'd never considered letting a guy jerk me off before. Not because I was freaked out by homosexuality necessarily--I'd just never considered it at all. I liked girls. I liked big tits and fat asses and wet pussies. But also liked the submissive attitude that Jonathan had, and how he thought me and my big dick deserved attention and relief. That attitude turned me on, whether or not the person with it was going to smell nice and have soft skin or no.

I decided I was going to take advantage of the situation. And take advantage of Jonathan.

"If I let you help me, I want you to do exactly as I tell you, ok? I'm going to decide what happens, and you're going to go along with it. If I say stop, you stop. If I want something different, I'll tell you and I expect you to listen. You got that?"

I stopped stroking and took my hands away from my cock. I flexed my lower abdominal muscles a couple times to make my hard dick bounce up and down, only a couple feet from his face. This made him blush, and he looked away from my dick, down at the floor.

"Ok, sure," he replied sheepishly.

"Ok, sure... what?" I asked him, mustering up a pretty demanding tone that I thought fit pretty well with the current situation. I wanted him to understand that I wanted control, and I was going to take it.

"I'll do what you want me to do. I'll do what you tell me," he replied, still looking at the floor.

"Good. I want you to crawl over here and take over. Jerk my big dick for me."

And that's exactly what he did. Without looking up, he got to his hands and knees and crawled up between my legs as I sat in the chair. Kneeling, he reached up and grabbed the shaft of my hard cock, holding it still for just a moment before he began to jerk me, slowly, up and down. He still hadn't looked me in the eyes, and I preferred it that way. I kept my eyes mostly on the slightly scrambled tv porno while he masturbated my penis.

"Use your left hand to play with my balls. I like the fondled, and pulled on just a little, but not too hard. Be gentle."

And just like that his left hand found my testicles. He was gentle enough, and knew his way around a set of nuts, not surprisingly. He continued to jerk my shaft and play with my balls while I watched the porno.

I drank from the glass of water next to my chair, and generally just kicked back while Jonathan worked my cock and balls over. I remember thinking that I could get used to this. Used getting exactly what I wanted. Used to getting my cock and balls manipulated by someone else like this, at my command, even if it was a guy.

A guy. But was it really a guy? Was Jonathan really a man right now, down on his knees, pleasuring another man's cock? Or was he something else? Something closer to a woman, but not really a woman, obviously. Then I remembered what he had said. What he had said he would be for me.

A fag.

"What did you tell me you'd be for me, again? Tell me, I want to hear you say it again," I demanded.

"I said I'd be a fag for you. Sir," Jonathan replied, with little hesitation. As if he'd thought about this before tonight.

"And what does that mean, exactly? What would you do for me as a fag?" I asked as he continued to stroke my cock. As he continued to look only at my cock, or maybe my balls or legs, but never at my face.

"Not just a fag, Aaron. Your fag. I don't want to just be a fag. I want to be a fag for you," he replied. And he finally looked up at me with puppy dog like eyes. Eyes that were both embarrassed and excited at the same time. He kept eye contact with me for a brief moment, then looked down again.

This was clearly something that he hadn't just come up with tonight. This was something he'd held close to the vest for a while, I suspected. I hadn't ever really thought about whether or not Jonathan was gay. He was just a friend from down the street, a guy to hang out with. I'd noticed that he didn't ever talk about girls, or pussy or tits or ass for that matter, but that really wasn't a big deal to me. Here he was, though, offering himself up to me. Telling me that he wanted to be my faggot. Telling me that he wanted be my faggot--while he jerked me off.

I had a guy down on his knees jerking me off, but I didn't feel gay. I felt like a man. I was in charge. I had a faggot that was giving himself to me. Telling me that he was mine. I wanted to push him and see that that really meant.

"What will my faggot do for me, then?" I asked, looking away from Jonathan and back at the porno on the television.

"I'll do whatever you want, I suppose within some limits, I guess," Jonathan replied.

I have to admit I liked the sound of that. I wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of being sexual with another guy, but I did like the feeling of Jonathan jerking me off. But he wasn't another guy, really, he was offering himself up as something other than that. As a fag. I wasn't exactly sure what he meant when he called himself a fag, or a faggot. But I was beginning to get the gist of it. Here he was, down on his knees, not making eye contact, stroking my cock for me, and telling me he'd do whatever I wanted him to do. The only reason not to pursue this was the fact that his anatomy was all wrong. But his attitude, at least to me, was all right.

"I like your attitude, fag," I replied. He didn't look up, but his cheeks flushed at the sound of the name I had just called him.

"I know what I don't want. I don't want you to think of me as your boyfriend or something like that. I'm not gay. And I'm not sure our friendship can ever be the same again, now that you're offering yourself up like this. If you want to be my fag, it will be on my terms, understand?"

"Yes... Sir," he replied while continuing to stroke me slowly. I recall my cock twitching some and getting even harder when I heard him call me "Sir."

"Good... fag," I replied, letting him know that I appreciated the honorific, but not letting him know how much it turned me on.

In that moment, I let my lust, and need to ejaculate, get the better of me. Or at least I let it guide my actions over the next several minutes. Jonathan's submissive attitude and attention toward my penis had severely clouded my judgment, and made me almost forget that the person kneeling between my legs stroking my dick was a guy. I had been thinking about him as a fag, and had associated him being a fag with him being a woman, almost. I knew he wasn't a woman, not a real woman. But his attitude allowed me to think about him like one, I guess. He'd never have tits, or a pussy, or be soft, or smell good like a woman. But in the moment he was pretty damn close to one. So I decided I would treat him like one.

I stood up. Jonathan appeared briefly confused. "Stay on your knees, faggot," I ordered as I stood before him. My cock was inches from his face, but he stared at the ground and remained silent.

I grabbed the side of his head with my left hand and tilted it upwards, so that his mouth was accessible. He closed his eyes to avoid having to look at me.

"Open," I ordered. And he complied. The fag opened his mouth, and I put the head of my cock in it.

"Suck." The fag closed his lips around my cock.

Fuck. I had my dick in a guy's mouth. Well, a fag's mouth, more correctly. But it felt good. Warm, wet, just like a girl's mouth. And a girl wouldn't likely let me hold her head like this, nor just immediately open their mouth to accept my dick upon command. But the fag did. The fag did exactly as I told him to. I remember thinking that I could get used to this.

I held the fag's head in place and pushed my hard cock further into his mouth, then withdrew a little, and pushed in again. Then again, and again. The fag remained basically still, not flinching, or making any move to protest what I was doing. The fag's eyes remained focused somewhere on my pubic bone, or not focused on anything at all, likely. I didn't really care. I was watching my big dick disappear into the fag's mouth, then reappear, then disappear again. While it was clear to me I wasn't fucking a woman's pussy, it felt similar. Not quite as good, but it was a good substitute, and much better than my hand.

"Open your mouth when I penetrate, fag. But keep your lips over your teeth, I don't want to feel them. Ever. Be careful that I don't." As I pushed in the next time, the fag did as he was told and I pushed even further into his mouth, the head of my cock hitting the back of his throat. He gagged a little, and I remember really liking the gagging, and his slightly uncomfortable physical reaction to it.

I pulled back just a little, but kept my dick in his mouth. "When I pull out, that's when you wrap your lips around my cock, fag." I started to pull my cock back, and the fag wrapped his lips fully around my dick. I pulled out until the fag's lips were just about to come off the head of my cock, then pushed back in. The fag followed my instructions, and opened up wide, teeth covered with his cocksucking lips, to accept my dick into his mouth again.

And again, and again. My faggot did just as I asked, opening up so that I could push my cock in fully, then closing his lips when I pulled out for me to feel some suction on my shaft and head. The fag had basically turned his mouth into a substitute pussy for me.

"That's it, faggot. You're doing exactly as I asked. Your fag mouth isn't a pussy and never will be. But I want you to make it as close to one as you can. Make it into a substitute pussy that I can fuck when I need it."

I kept thrusting, in and out. Over and over. I was building toward my orgasm now, chasing it with rougher and more forceful use of the fag's mouth pussy. As I fucked his face faster, I went deeper in to the opening of his throat, and each time he gagged a little. But I liked that. I liked seeing him wince a little, and I liked hearing the sound of him gagging on my cock. But what I think I liked most was he faggot's reluctance to show any signs that it was uncomfortable. I mean it obviously was, I was gagging him with my cock, over and over, repeatedly and quickly. But he never deviated from the instructions I gave, and never indicated in any way that he wanted me to stop. He simply took my dick and endured seemingly whatever I wanted him to endure.

Finally I felt that familiar feeling. My balls tightened, and I knew that I was going to empty them. I realized at that point we hadn't discussed what I should do with my cum. Then I realized a discussion like that with a fag was kind of pointless. This fag was down on his knees, sucking my dick exactly how I told him to, letting me fuck his mouth like it was some chick's pussy. He had told me he wanted to be a fag for me. A fag. Someone who calls themselves that doesn't get a say in what happens, things just happen to them. And they accept it. So I was going to cum wherever, and however I wanted. And I wanted to show this faggot what I thought of him. And what I thought of our new "relationship."

I pulled my cock out of the fag's mouth and started jerking it with my right hand. My left hand remained on the side of the fag's head, and I tilted his head up.

"Look at me, fag."

He finally looked me in the eye. His eyes were watering, teary almost. He looked a little scared, but also like he liked being scared. I liked that he was a little scared, honestly. And it didn't seem like an unreasonable feeling to have, based on how I'd been just recently fucking his faggot mouth.

"Your mouth is my substitute pussy, fag. And I'm going to use your face as a cumrag."

The fag's eyes grew wider. I don't think he was expecting that. But it didn't matter,

"Keep looking at me, faggot." I was very close now, but I wanted more.

"Beg me for it, fag. Beg me for my cum," I ordered.

I wasn't sure the fag had it in him to respond, really. He hesitated, but then whimpered, "please give me your cum... please cum on my face... Sir"

I knew I liked it the first time, but hearing the fag call me "Sir" again sent me right over the edge. I shot my first rope directly onto his forehead, and the flinch of surprise the involuntarily came from the fag made my subsequent pulses even more powerful. I shot rope after rope onto that faggot's cumrag face, completely emptying my balls and letting out a guttural groan as the last bit of cum came out of my cock. Maybe guessing it's what I wanted, the fag never closed his eyes, maintaining eye contact with me through my entire orgasm. I was sure his right eye was going to sting from the cum in it. But I rather enjoyed looking down on his covered in my ejaculate.

I wiped the last bit of sperm from my cockhead on his cheek. I released my grip from the fag's head, and he immediately looked down to the floor again. I stepped back, then turned around to grab my clothes. I got dressed while the fag remained on his knees, looking at the floor. He was obviously waiting for me to tell him what to do. I liked that.

"Get up, fag. And get yourself cleaned up. I shouldn't have to tell you, but no one can know what just happened. And no one can know when it happens again."

He stood up, still looking at the floor.

"Yes, Sir."