Lads on Tour

All Characters 18+

The Lads could hardly believe what they were staring at. They guffawed and balked by turns, each trying to quell the embarrassment. Their tour guide Luca had innocuously called this corner of the ruin 'the party room', and gave no warning about what would be found within. Here the crumbling walls of the Balearicus Villa were festooned with outrageous homoerotic frescos - Athletes and Soldiers, Masters and slaves, young men and their Daddies, all fucking every which way that could be imagined.

Way back in 121 BC, the Roman General Quintus Caecilius Metellus defeated the Balearic Pirates and celebrated his victory by fucking every single fit lad in Majorca. A hill fort and sumptuous holiday home was duly erected to consolidate his power over the island, and decorated the interior with these steamy murals to memorialise his epic body count. The General appears time and again throughout the frieze, demonstrating his supremacy in one scene after another, pounding on the sons of Majorca's subjugated Buccaneers with Imperial impunity. Luca loved bringing hot British Boys to see this shocking proof of the brilliant excesses of Roman debauchery. Their prudish discomfort was always so delicious,

"This is how the Lads of ancient Rome used to chill out. Normal Lads just like you. If this was Roman times, you would have a party like this tonight."

"Fuck off!" the Brits chortled, turning on one another with nervous accusations,

"Ur, don't be gay!"

"Why are you so gay, tho..?"

But the drawings quickly arrested their attention, working a peculiar fascination on all who saw them, and in no time they were taking pictures and chatting excitedly about each mad, lurid detail they discovered in the timeworn paint.

"Mate, this Quintus bloke looks like you!" Jackson exclaimed, hanging off Scott's shoulder.

"He does an' all!" Grant agreed, and the Boys gathered round to verify.

It wasn't just the close-cropped blond beard and a chunky Dad bod. General Caecilius Metellus also shared Scott's naughty smile, making their resemblance striking in the extreme.

"And this little bitch looks like Leslie," Grant beamed, pointing at the hapless pipsqueak depicted choking on the General's choad. He was always dunking on his little brother like that.

"Fuck off, no it doesn't!" Leslie whined, but no one listened to him, and they all took pictures and tagged him in their socials.

The joke stung tho, because Leslie WAS actually secretly gay, AND he had a long standing crush on his Big Brother's bestie Scott. It felt like everyone had seen his private wank fantasy, and he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"You would have been such a total bitch in ancient Rome," Grant boomed, scratching his balls and taking snapshots on his iPhone,

Leslie wished he HAD been born in ancient Rome, and he shuffled aside to sulk and wee a silly wet patch in his Calvin's, picturing life as a sex toy of the colossal General Scott.

He needn't have felt quite so alone though. Intrusive thoughts were giving them all a shifty boner, and the Lads tugged on their shorts to try and hide it. Letting their eyes wander through the frescos they went their own way around the room, each alighting upon scenes that spoke to their own fancies, and each finding a caricature that looked a fair bit like themselves.

Scott thought he could see the appeal in fucking all Majorca's naughty boys, and that he would have definitely indulged the same spoils had he been a Victor in such heady times.

"That would be Jokes!" Grant smiled to himself, nodding at a picture of a heavyset Centurion bumming a Roman twink. It seemed the perfect image of a Real Man, taking just exactly whatever he wanted, and letting all the boys know who was in charge.

Charlie was staring at the same picture, and he couldn't help but wonder how it must feel to be taken by a Man that way? A Man just like Grant maybe? Charlie broke a sweat.

Jackson burst with laughter a few paces down. Having found a drawing that would test polite society in any age, he beckoned the Lads to admire a cartoon of three regular Bros, each raising a chalice to collect the tasty sprinkles of pee splashing from a slave boy's willy. It caused an uproar among his mates, but they did each secretly wonder what piss might actually taste like.

"Getting lots of ideas for later tonight, right?" Luca teased, exciting a second wave of protestations and jibes.

These lads seemed somehow different to the usual Brits. Something about them, cooking just under the surface, as if their bestial frustrations were fast approaching a flash point. Why were English Lads so fucking sexy? With their random tattoos, and bulging muscles, and terrible skin fades, and cheap gold jewellery? Luca always had such a crush on these obnoxious louts. But they were always so straight. Or too scared to try anything gay.

"You missed the best part," he smirked, alerting them to the most shocking of all the scenes depicted in the fresco.

It was a brawl scene in which a crowd of mean Jocks had some wimp pinned down so they could take turns beating on his balls.

"... what the fuck?" Alfie muttered under his breath.

"Rome was a Macho's paradise," Luca explained, "the Bullies reigned supreme."

"Fuck, that's awesome!" Alfie blurted, rather telling on himself.

An open season on wimps was Alfie's idea of heaven, and to his way of thinking ball-bashing had to be the sweetest pleasure of all. But he wasn't the only one thinking it. All the Lads wanted to be in the picture, holding the boy down. Luca clocked the many hard-ons forcing tents in their shorts.

"This is my favourite picture too," he dared to confess, leaning his back against the dusty wall, and staring longingly into Alfie's eyes.

Of all the Lads in the group, Alfie was absolutely the sexiest one - his pecs bulging in his Arsenal football shirt, and dark curls in his chavy mullet. He might even have been the sexiest guy Luca had ever seen! He wanted to throw himself down at Alfie's feet and beg for a drip from the Fit Lad's pretty dick.

Alfie caught the Spaniard staring at his crotch, and did nothing to cover up. Throwing a quick glance down himself, he noticed with smarmy satisfaction that the contour of his swollen bellend was discernible in the white fabric of his shorts as his long erection fought to stand tall.

"We're hitting the straight bars tonight, mate," he spat unkindly, loving the attention he could garner from a queer "Brits aren't bum-boys like you dirty Dago faggots. We'll be stealing your women while you're busy diddling, mate! Comprende? Gonna fuck some sweet Spanish pussy tonight!"

"Nah, only ugly English birds at the clubs!" Luca grinned antagonistically, "Spanish girls don't fuck with Gammon."

The Lads cracked up. It was such an awesome put down, even if they did get the impression Luca had used it before. No hard feelings.

Concluding the tour, Luca ushered them out the way they came in.

*

Despite hours of anticipation and inane, empty big-talk, when they finally made it into the club it proved to be every bit as dry as Luca had warned them. No Spanish babes, just a slew of shitfaced English birds making a fool of themselves. The Lads weren't going to be fussy tho, so they switched on their charm and did their best to impress the slags, but they completely failed to score.

Most of the Lads had girlfriends waiting for them back in Luton, but that never stopped them cruising for a cheeky bit on the side while abroad. They danced and drank until it was difficult to stand, and staggered back to their hotel empty handed. The lobby echoed horribly with drunken heckling as they climbed the stairs in a clumsy mob. Then they bickered about who was supposed to be holding the key, waking every other guest as they went. Scott had it and, stabbing noisily at the lock, he got it open and let them pile through like clowns.

The louts were sharing a single room. In the brilliant confluence of a last-minute booking and the imperative to secure the cheapest possible option, all six of these sexy, stinky chavs were forced into one bedroom. Three double beds awkwardly cluttered the space, leaving only narrow trenches between the divans through which to pass up and down. Upon their arrival two days before, they'd fought over who was sharing a mattress with who, but in the end they were all too drunk for it to matter, and they crashed on the nearest available spot.

Didn't seem like they'd be getting much sleep tonight though. On this side of the building, the beats and bass of a dozen beach parties shook the whole room. Alfie closed the window, but it did nothing to quiet the rumbling, and he whipped the curtain to try shut out the streetlight, but a long, thin beam remained dissecting the shade. Laying side-by-side the Lads made a genuine attempt to drop off.

No one slept though. Drifting in the torrid dark, those old Roman frescos fluttered up in each of their booze-addled and sexually frustrated minds like the pages of magical porn mags. If they'd been Roman Lads, like Luca was trying to tell them, they wouldn't have needed any slags to chafe. They'd just have come back here and fucked each other. It wasn't even gay back then. It's just what Lad's did.

It probably wouldn't even be gay if they did it today. It's not gay if it just between mates, they reasoned silently. They'd all enjoyed circle jerks before and seen each other nut, and that wasn't gay. It would just be like helping out a mate - just giving him a cheeky hand job, or maybe stuffing his chops with your cock.

Grant felt horniest of all. He was sharing a bed with his little brother's mate Charlie. He'd bullied Charlie Evans since the lad was a tyke. But he wasn't a tyke anymore. He was a nimble teen, pretty as a rosebud, stripped down to his trunks and low-cut white ankle socks. Laid on his front without sheets to cover him up, that stripe of orange streetlight ran right over the bubbles of his butt. It looked like a girl's butt. His hairless legs looked like girl's legs. Would it be gay if Grant fucked him like he was a girl?

Turning this way and that, the chunky Top Lad tormented himself with lusty thoughts until he could resist no longer. Grant could see that Charlie was wide awake. The boy's open eyes sparkled in the darkness as brightly as the false diamond stud in his ear. Soundlessly raising his hand, Grant brought it down on the cheeks that taunted him and gently squeezed.

Charlie lay petrified, completely unresponsive. Leslie's Big Brother was squeezing his arse! He'd always been terrified of Grant, and Grant knew it. Years of roasting, and beats, and swirlies in the school toilets was all he'd ever got from Leslie's Big Brother. But now, in the torrid Mediterranean midnight, Grant's fingertips were caressing his bum. Charlie wasn't sure if this was just another prank or some clumsy, locker room style show of dominance? He didn't know how to act. His heart raced. Grant's fingers glided over the cotton of his shorts, pushing their way between his warm buns, and stroking ever nearer his hole. This had to be more than a joke, Grant was properly feeling him up! It felt nice, but Charlie didn't seem to be getting a stiffy. He was just a bit too scared.

Reading the boy's complete inaction as a wordless show of consent, Grant lifted his head to check that the others were sleeping. He couldn't make out anything in the shadows that surrounded them, but the room seemed still, and the all-pervasive boom of trashy EDM blasting from the beach party outside provided an extra level of cover. Emboldened to proceed, Grant slid his palm under the waistband of Charlie's Calvin's, scoring a fulsome grab on his naked cake, skin to skin. It pumped the semi that had been lazing in his Lonsdale's right up into a raging porker.

Grant could only rub and tease a short while before animal impulses overwhelmed him. Rolling drunkenly on top of the boy, he tore Charlie's panties down his slender thighs, planting hungry kisses on his delicate shoulders and neck. Charlie's heart nearly stopped. He surrendered completely to Grant's molestations, awestruck by the raw power of the Man's passions.

Grant groped for Charlie's cock, and finding it flaccid and tiny in his hand he inwardly rejoiced. Fucking the boy with a frightened little penis was somehow so much hotter that giving him a boner. And anyway, it definitely wasn't gay sex if the rascal was soft. It was just more bullying - Grant's wheelhouse. Resting the length of his own mighty hard-on in the cleave of Charlie's bobbing buttocks, and with a hand still cupping the chav lad's shrunken willy, he whispered from behind,

"I'll give you something to be scared off, babe. You feel that? My beastly cock?"

Charlie moaned with a troubling mixture longing and fear., "... fuck me, Grant."

"I'll make you sorry you asked..." Grant growled, settling in for the naughtiest fuck of his life.

In the next bed, (and completely unaware of anything taking place between Grant and Charlie) Alfie was bunked up with Jackson. They were already spooning in boozy slumber. Unable to forget that nice fresco of the Roman Bullies busting that ginger pipsqueak's balls, Alfie had reached across the mattress and drawn Jackson in close.

Astonished, but adapting to the situation with praiseworthy ambition, Jackson accepted the embrace. Back home, Alfie would take this as a cue from his girlfriend Chantelle to reach down and stroke her cunt. Almost before he knew it, he had Jackson's balls between finger and thumb, stroking them through his briefs. He'd never clutched another lad's bollocks before, and he tried their tensile strength as he kissed Jackson behind the ear.

Quite unlike his nervous pal the in next bed over, Jackson got a sly stiffy nice and quick. Alfie caressed his dick too, stroking it's shaft and massaging the head as it leaked under it's cotton shroud. Jackson luxuriated in the careful attention he was receiving. It felt lovely. He turned his head to snatch those kisses up with his mouth. Tongue-tips touched, and suddenly they were making out.

Who knew kissing another Lad would be this fucking sick? So much more exhilarating than kissing a girl. Boys were tough and gentle, beautiful and brutish, all at once. And Alfie was such a Stud! A proper fit lad. A perfect male specimen. Still wearing his red Arsenal shirt, the Alfa continued to tease Jackson's junk, squeezing testily on his nuts. He'd been thinking about it all day - bashing balls. And now that he had a cute, warm boy so closely wrapped in his arms, his imagination flooded with mean thoughts.

For his own part, Jackson's heart fluttered. Alfie's vindictive little kink was kind of sexy. He wanted his new Romeo to hurt his balls. Snatching the Bully's hands up in his own, he silently guided them, miming a decent sack-tap in a cute rehearsal. Alfie got the picture alright, quickly whacking Jackson's balls with a smirk. Jackson stifled a yelp, and no one heard a thing over the ongoing rumble of shit dance music. Fuck it hurt! But it also made his dick harder than ever before. He wanted another hit, and opened up for it. A second, a third, a forth time Alfie whipped his bollocks, and Jackson's dick got harder with every tap.

Worrying that the other Lads might discover them both at such sordid play, Alfie let up a minute to survey the room. It was too dark to know for sure, but the bedroom seemed quiet. Ball busting was so fucking badass! Every bit as good as he imagined. And he was just getting started! He wanted to fucking murk Jackson's testicles, pulverise them. Just thinking about it made his dick drip so profusely that it soaked a rich wet-patch his shorts. Jackson's thigh tingled with the clammy touch of wet fabrics as Alfie's precum seeped from one pair of undies to the other. This was the best holiday ever!

Over in the last bed, poor Leslie had no idea these brilliant moments were unfolding on the sly. Unable to sleep, he tormented himself with teenage longing. The tumble into bed had thrown him down on the same mattress as his crush Scott, and from the moment the lights went out he'd been burning up with heartache. Of course Scott would be the only one among them who succeeded in passing out. He was even snoring, laid on his back like a King.

In the gloom, Leslie could just about make out the wondrous bulks of Scott's sexy body. Without the slightest regard for his roommates, Scott had stripped butt naked before collapsing, and his pretty circumcised choad was on show. Leslie stared so long it made him cry. He had no fucking chance in hell of living his dreams. Scott's engagement ring twinkled with a speck of light. The lucky girl in question was Jackson's sister Kelly, and their baby was due at the end of the summer. If only he'd been a girl, Leslie would have beaten Kelly to the alter. If he'd been Grant's little sister, he would have spent all those weekends flirting with the Bear, teasing him form the doorway as they played their video games and watched the footie. He'd have been perfectly placed to seduce him. He'd be the one carrying Scott's babies now, not stupid Kelly.

A wicked notion flashed up in his mind, bringing his tears to sudden halt. Throwing furtive glances into the dark beyond their mattress and deciding the room was dormant, Leslie crept his way down the bed. Soon his hot face was inches away from Scott's bellend.

"Scott?" he whispered, but hardly heard his own voice in the din of the parties carrying on outside.

And driven by forces more powerful and seductive than his moral compass, Leslie carefully placed his mouth on Scott's penis. The unresponsive meat of his cubby glans wobbled on Leslie's tongue. Short but wide, Scott amply crammed the chops. Leslie's heart and mind totally flipped. Even in this inert jelly state, the thrill of finally tasting the Man he loved was voltaic, shaking him to the core, but the tickles they shared caused Scott to thrust and stir, snorting as if he might wake. Leslie shrank back and waited.

The Bear was still asleep, and so he dared to go in for a another turn. Licking this time with purpose, he pushed his tongue tip around the crest of Scott's bell, exploring the wonderful shape and quality of his meat. With kisses and sucks he drew forth a single, blesséd bead of salty juice, seeping over his tastebuds and igniting all his senses. This was heaven. Leslie wanted Scott's dick in his mouth forever, squirting tasty pee.

But this stolen micro-gasm only roused Scott more profoundly than before, and the Lummox rolled onto his side, putting his penis out of reach for good. Leslie despaired. He knew his one and only chance to share in Scott's love had been and gone. Laying back down, he ruminated on the flavour still saturating his mush - the flavour of a real-life Daddy dick. A dick that was out there, busy making babies...

Then sliding a hand dejectedly under his pillow, his fingers tangled with some foreign object, and pulling it out found he had Scott's discarded trunks in his clutches. Wrapping them quickly over his face, he inhaled a lovely hit of dick musk and balls and pee, sinking into the solace of a furious cry-wank. With booze still swimming in a fog around his head, Leslie nutted over the edge of the bed. Then he fell a sleep at last, swaddled in Scott's stink.

Back in the first bunk, things had escalated. Charlie was outright gagging on Grant's massive cock, his own tiny penis still flopping forward and back as the mattress rocked. Completely overwhelmed, his head had just become a hole for Grant to pound on, trouncing his tonsils, and slapping his chin with his balls. How was no one else waking up? Charlie didn't care if they did at this point. Getting face-fucked by Grant was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and tears spilled onto his cheeks with the strain of keeping up.

Grant was enjoying himself, but he really wanted to fuck Charlie in the ass. Choking the boy got him pumped, but he was ready for the amain event. Only thing, he'd been busting for a piss this whole time and couldn't put it off any longer. Whipping his dick out of Charlie's mouth, he threw the chav down on the bed and whispered into his ear,

"Mate, I've got to take a piss."

Charlie was so sexed up, he wished the Hulk would just piss on him then and there. Grant fondled the lad to check he was still flaccid, and smiled,

"I'll be back to destroy you in two minutes, don't go anywhere," he promised, and with that he got unsteadily to his feet and swung naked out the door.

Squinting in the brightly lit washroom down the hall, Grant splashed his pale beery piss anywhere but in the toilet. He was too lashed to aim properly, so he just let it gush through his boner all over the walls. The pretty hall boy would have to come and mop it all up later. Whatever, he should feel honoured to mop his piss. Grant felt like a fucking Demigod tonight! A real Champion, like a Roman Lad! His socks soaked a lot of the urine up off the floor anyway. Kinda wished he could have doused Charlie down before stuffing his dick up the chav lad's butt. Oh well, next time maybe.

Lumbering back up the hall, he paused at the top of the stairs. He didn't give a fuck if someone ran into him now, with his huge semi on display. He felt so fucking sexy! Girls or boys, it didn't matter - he'd fuck them all! No one did come along, so he re-entered the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Finding himself in pitch darkness once more, he couldn't see, or remember, where the beds were. Floundering in the shadows, he found the corner of a mattress and ran his hand over the bedsheets, checking to see if it was half-empty? This had to be his bed, he'd returned to the right one.

"You ready for me, boy?" he whispered again, tugging the lad next to him back into position.

Charlie seemed to have pulled his panties back up! What was he playing at? Grant wasted no time in yanking them off again. And groping greedily for Charlie's funny little softy, he discovered the boy had somehow managed to manifest a silly stiffy in his absence! This vexed Grant no end. He'd have to fuck him twice as mean to knock it out of him.

Except it wasn't Charlie in the bed with him. He'd found his way into the wrong bed, and it was his own brother Leslie he was striping of his underwear.

What had happened? In Grant's absence there had been a complete switch around, and everyone was now sharing with someone else. When he opened the bedroom door to go out to toilet, he'd let so much unexpected light back into the room that Alfie stopped dead in his tracks. He and Jackson held their breaths, certain they'd been rumbled pashing. But the outrage they both feared failed to materialise, and realising that Grant had simply got up to take a piss, Alfie jumped to his feet to shut out as much light as possible so he could return to his dirty tricks in the dark.

He shut the door and reached over Scott's bunk to whisk that gap in the curtains shut once and for all, but in so doing he bumped the mattress so clumsily that Scott rolled out of bed.

"Fuck, sorry mate!" Alfie hushed, hoping not to have woken anyone else, and these two Top Lads chuckled and fumbled their way back into bed.

Back into the wrong beds.

Expecting his Bully Boy to return, Jackson mistakenly accepted Scott into the sheets. He'd loved his round of ball-busting so much that he was ready to thank his Master. He wanted to kiss Alfie's smug, unhurt bollocks while his own balls still throbbed with the beating he'd received. As Scott settled back down on the bunk, Jackson dived for his crotch.

Immediately he knew something was amiss. Alfie had been wearing his football shirt, and this bloke was naked. Naked and fat. And the dick bouncing atop the balls he was busy smooching was right choady, and Alfie had a nice long dick...

It was Scott! Jackson was kissing Scott's balls! All kinds of alarm bells were ringing in his head - this was his sisters's fiancé! So why didn't he stop right there and then? Scott was equally startled, but he knew better than to resist a free blowie.

"Fuck!" he thought to himself, believing it was Leslie down there between his legs, and looking around to check they weren't being watched, "Grant's little bro wants to suck me off!"

His happy chub stood quickly to attention, and he guided Jackson away from his ball-bag and onto his bellend. If Scott wanted it, Jackson reasoned to himself, chomping on hungrily on Fat Man's nob, then he wanted too. Fuck, his mates were awesome! All secretly down for a naughty fuck! He wished he'd known about it sooner, but he was here for it now, and determined to make it a real good one.

Meanwhile, the Man this beej had originally been intended for climbed onto the wrong mattress with Charlie. Thinking he'd done a decent job tuning Jackson's balls up with cute slaps and taps, Alfie was pumped and ready to exact a crush defeat.

Like Jackson, Charlie knew the wrong Lad was cozying up to him. He knew the door hadn't opened again to readmit Grant back on the scene. But how could he object? If he protested he'd be telling on himself, and Alfie might guess he'd been fucking Grant. Silently crestfallen he'd missed his chance to experience the tough love of a Real Man, he lay naked and motionless exactly where Grant had left him. But Alfie didn't hunker down for sleep the way Charlie expected him to. Alfie immediately placed his covetous hands on Charlie's hips, delighted to find him denuded,

"Jackson's ripped his Calvin's off!" Alfie marvelled, "Mate, this boy really wants to play!"

Stunned by Alfie's instant intimacy, Charlie trembled. Alfie was his Boss! He'd been apprenticed to the Electrician the past 7 or 8 months, and never suspected for a moment the Man might was to fuck him! Did all the Lads want a piece of his ass? He never felt more nervous, or more sexy, in his whole life! Somewhat conflicted, he let Alfie cop a feel of his timid balls. It felt nice, surrendering to the touch of grown Man. The last thing he expected was a good solid punch in the bollocks.

Cupping the poor boy's sack in one hand and cracking down hard on them with the other, Charlie's balls had nowhere to hide. He creased in pain. Not having enjoyed the gentle sack-tap induction that Jackson had been subject to, and without the steady escalation of strikes that led up to this boxing, the blow came as a massive shock.

"You like that, you sexy cunt?" Alfie hissed through the thunder of the party music, forcing a kiss on Charlie's mouth.

Now Alfie realised this wasn't Jackson he was pashing. Jackson had a cheeky tash, and a hairy chest. This lad was as hairless as a girl! It was Charlie, his apprentice! He'd got back into the wrong bed and totally murked the wrong balls!

A clutter of doubts swam up in Alfie's mind as he kissed the chav lad. This was misconduct, malpractice. He was abusing his position as an employer. But the boy seemed to be kissing him back! Was Charlie down for kinky fun? Did all his mates secretly want a ball-bashing? Fuck, this was amazing!

For Charlie the whole encounter was maddeningly confusing. Did Alfie want to fuck him or beat him up? Was there any difference at this point? Grant's behaviour had been just as bewildering, and every bit as sexy. Charlie's flaccid penis trilled with naughty liquids, as he yielded to Alfie's whims.

This is right about where Grant reentered the room. Happily engaged in their new couplings, the other lads pretended to be asleep until they were sure the room was settled again, resuming their antics once everything was still and dark once more. Grant laid his hands on his brother's slender frame and impatiently tore off his clothes.

Leslie felt too much like Charlie, hairless and slight. Grant seemed too much like Scott, Chunky and great. Drunkenly slipping into a fuck, they neither comprehended their mistake.

Waking with a start, and wishing more than anything that his most cherished dream had come true, Leslie simply assumed it was Scott bundling him down. He wanted to turn and kiss the Bear, but his assailant seemed mad with butt-lust, and kept pulling him back between his thighs doggie style.

"Unghhh, Scott!" Leslie peeped, too softly for Grant to discern.

If the beach party had been any quieter he'd have recognised the voice of his little brother calling for someone else, but not hearing clearly he fancied the boy between his legs was whining for him. Wiping spit around Leslie's tight butt hole, Grant's fingers teased at what was to come. He was ready to turn this brat inside out. Directing his dong in place, Grant's meaty glans kissed Leslie's anus - Brother to brother, a forbidden and completely unrecognised thrill. Then he plunged, slowly stretching his way in with a mighty girth.

Right away this felt better than fucking pussy. This boy's passage was tighter than the screws in a submarine - clenching on every inch of Grant's massive wang as he slowly stretched his way in, and pushing back on him with cute constrictions and sweet cringes that he negated. Once he'd forced himself down as deep as he could go, and his Big Brother balls were pressing on Leslie's little brother balls, Grant bumped up against the boy, relishing the squeeze. It made him wish he'd been fucking chav lads all along. It was a feeling like no other.

"Fuck, Scott's a real grower!" Leslie winced, remembering how short Scott's nob had been as it wobbled on his tongue earlier. Now it seemed the Hulk was stretching him out to his limit. Snatching Scott's undies back from under the pillow again, Leslie huffed on their rich stink and bit down on them to help ease the pain.

Precum splashed through Grant's aching rod, and Leslie's warm rectum drank it in, imbibing his Brother's arrogant self-satisfaction with faggot-like adoration. Of course the boy wriggled and gasped, but he wanted this more than anything, and knew to keep a lid on his discomfort so as not to wake the others. He fell more deeply in love with Scott with every thrust.

But long before any of these lucky Lads could achieve that ultimate satisfaction, the bedroom door sudden flew open. Stood in silhouette, blindingly lit from behind, the hall boy shook a mop,

"Why you piss on the floor? Bastard Guiris!"

Reaching for the switch, the unsuspecting janitor flicked the light on like a bomb-blast, throwing the whole smutty farce out into the open. Everyone froze.

The Brits gawped across the room at one another, at once mortified by their own exposure and also totally astonished by the lurid scenes laid bare before them. Appalled, the hall boy shut the door as quickly as he'd opened it, leaving the Lads alone to unpack the wild truth now confronting them.

Variously blushed and dripping with sweat, they looked one to other, all equally ashamed and equally complicit. Every one of them, balls deep in unequivocally gay sex. Lad on lad. Alfie groping his apprentice. Jackson blowing his sister's Fiancé. And of course, most shocking of all these incorrect pairings, the Woodall Brothers, thoroughly locked in a sumptuous full penetration. Upon clocking his crush Scott slouched on the opposite bed, Leslie turned his gaze gingerly over his shoulder to ascertain just which of the other five fit lads was really cramming a 9 inch bofty up his virgin asshole?

At the same moment Grant recognised it was his own little brother peeking back at him from the mattress,

"Leslie!? What the fuck are doing on my Dick!?

This was a like moment from one of Leslie's worst nightmares - As if the pathetic truth of his gayness revealed for all his mates to see wasn't devastating enough, his abasement had to made as heinous and shameful as could possibly be, caught by some cruel travesty of mistaken identity red-handed in the act with his own Big Brother! Aghast, Leslie's butt hole clenched even more tightly, squeezing down on Grant's angry boner and wringing a juicy new throb of precum along the Stud's hefty shaft. Grant sighed involuntarily, seized by this twinkle of dicky pleasure.

"Fucking give it to him, bruv" Alfie suddenly sneered from his front row seat at the Banes incest show, lifting his phone up to capture the drama.

Would a Roman Champ fuck his own little brother?

"Go on Grant," Scott chimed in, "show him what Laura has to put up with every night with your fucking beastly cunt-stuffer!"

Grant decided that a real Roman Macho would fuck anyone, if anything just to assert his own superiority, and without giving it another moment's thought he steadied himself with both hands on Leslie's hips,

"Think you're tougher than my girlfriend, batty boy?" he taunted, resuming his tidy fuck before an enraptured live audience of all his best mates.

"Yes Mate!" the others jeered, scrutinising the awesome spectacle for every prurient detail.

The Brothers' contorted faces were a picture to behold - Grant melting into imperious bliss, and poor Leslie pinched with duress. The boy had never been so confused. On the one hand it felt so fucking great to finally get fucked by a real Man, someone strong and sexy and dominant. On the other hand he was quite unsure in the extreme about suddenly making amateur porn with his own Big Brother. He'd literally never thought about Grant in this way before, but the Hunk really knew what he was doing!

Grant dealt Leslie a quick smack on the ass, and a little bit of wee sprinkled from the nervous lad's willy.

Jackson took this as his cue to hop straight back on Scott. If it was all cool for Leslie to enjoy a dirty fuck with his own Big Brother Grant, then it was definitely cool for him to enjoy a little drink from his Brother-in-law's pretty choad. It tasted even better now. Jackson's sister Kelly only ever dated Scott in the first place because she was jealous of their friendship. Scott and Jackson used to play Rugby every weekend before she came along, but now they were getting married Scott never came to club. Lapping on his stubby was the sweetest possible revenge - cutting in on her rights the same way she'd cut in on his. Jackson was determined to do it better than she ever could, to give her fiancé the best blow job of his life. Everyone noticed.

Alfie turned his phone on them now to zoom in on the wrinkled folds of drool covered flesh at the base of Scott's merry cock.

"Mate, you getting two for one with that marriage?" he nudged, revelling in the taboo.

"Fuck yes!" Jackson broke off to voice a hearty consent to the idea before plunging back in.

"Lucky me," Scott chuckled, amazed with Jackson's thirst.

Kelly's little brother wasn't messing around! He was loving whatever Scott had going on, exploring every nook of his nob like some delicious popsicle, and guzzling it's juices. Carefully, Scott slipped himself in deeper, pushing his bush under Jackson's nose. His dick dribbled on the boy's tongue - the same pudgy dick that had fucked his sister a hundred times - the same dribble that had knocked her up, and put the baby in her belly that was gestating this very moment. Scott knew it was naughty, but that only made him enjoy it all the more. He really felt like General Quintus, squashing his bonny balls on Jackson's chin.

Leslie's heart was breaking, even as Grant's massive dong teased him into an almighty buttgasm. Watching Scott and Jackson go at it like that, listening to them joke about marriage, he knew they enjoyed a connection that he could never compete with. And yet he was simultaneously discovering a peerless intimate connection of his own. Few gay boys could say they'd enjoyed the forbidden touch of their own Big Brother. Grant railed him like a total bitch, and the base sexuality of the moment overtook any critical thinking. Leslie's prostate shivered and rattled, wringing out an involuntary moan from deep within him,

"Mmmmaahh!"

Alfie had captured enough. Putting his iPhone down on the dresser at last, he was raring to get involved.

"Come on then, pipsqueak," he loured. Charlie was going to get his fuck after all.

"That's what I call a real apprenticeship!" Grant heckled mid fuck from his viewpoint above the whole scene.

"Mate, this going to make work days more interesting, I'll tell you that for nothing!" Alfie smirked, dragging the twink down the mattress and locking eyes with Grant across the room.

Charlie yelped as Alfie stabbed him with his dick. A Real Man had finally entered him, and the sensation was paralysing. But the scally did his best to relax into it. He wanted Alfie to have as much fun as his mates were having, and after a minute or two he was getting into it himself.

Up above him, Grant and Alfie's staring contest quickly turned into fuck contest, each riding their respective mounts like Cowboys at

Rodeo. It would make fuck loads better content than anything Alfie had been secretly consuming on Only Fans, and even now he was formulating a wicked idea for their own account. He'd call it Lads on Tour, and fly the Boys out all around the Med to shoot filthy chav fucks in hotels and on beaches in the sun. A channel like that would do epic numbers.

Little did he know that they already had an enthusiastic audience of one. Outside, the hall boy had been crouched at the keyhole this whole time. Through the aperture he could only see Scott and Jackson, but that was plenty good enough, and after capturing several minutes video of steamy blowjob action on his phone, he put the gadget away to wank furiously on his sneaky Spanish boner.

He didn't understand the banter being shared, but he knew these British Lads were sexy as fuck! He had a fancy for Jackson especially - the boy was fine, and cheeky to boot. And fuck was he thirsty for Daddy Bear dick! Chowing down on that thing like it was pissing honey cream!

"Fuck I'm gonna cum, bro..." Grant groaned somewhere out of sight, dealing Leslie another slap on the ass.

Nico, the hall boy, cursed his exclusion, wishing desperately that he could see what was happening on the other bunks. Inside the room, all three of these awesome Top Lads were reaching climax. Within the space of a minute they came one after the other. First Grant, dousing his little brother's prostate like he was extinguishing an urgent fire, and basking in a dickgasm more tingling than any he'd enjoyed with any girl.

Scott came second, much to the delight of his adoring public knelt at the keyhole. Biting his lip with an idiotic grin, his chub pissed Daddy sauce right down Jackson's throat. Blushing with dishevelled satisfaction, Jackson went on kissing Scotts bellend long after it was spent.

Finally Alfie shot his load, slow and luxurious, - his long cock squeezed from tip to base by Charlie's tight hole. The Man sighed. The boy swooned. Poor Charlie still hadn't mustered an erection all night. Perhaps it was just nerves, but he was loving every minute of the madness nonetheless. Alfie reached for his cigs, sparking one up in the post organismic lull.

The Tops laughed, sharing more excited banter as their boys collected themselves. Alfie even felt emboldened enough to suggest his Only Fans idea,

"Mate, I'm telling you, this would make a fucking Boss OF! Lets go to Magaluf!"

The others initially scoffed, but behind the derision they were inwardly entertaining the idea in their minds. Why shouldn't they do an OF? They were sexy as fuck!

Then the fire alarm went off - a blaring klaxon triggered by Alfie's cigarette. Furiously stubbing did nothing to shut it up. Neither did throwing the window open as Charlie and Leslie wafted the air with pillows. Nico, the hall boy, scrambled to his feet. Rushing to the control unit in reception, he could see in the row of tiny blinking green lights that it was the Brits who had set it off. He'd have to go in there to reset the alarm himself. The relevant key kept in a cluttered drawer among screwdrivers and old pens, and it took a minute to discover and correctly identify. Half sure he found the right one, Nico hurried back up the stairs, assuring various guests that this was a false alarm as they emerged from doors on all sides.

"I have to come in!" he shouted, knocking ruefully on the Lad's door.

Gingerly pushing it ajar and peering in, the janitor tried not to catch anyone's eye. The dirty fuckers had made no effort to dress themselves, and their dicks bobbed and swayed in different stages of arousal.

"I have to use the key!" Nico announced in his thick Spanish accent.

It was so embarrassing forcing his way back into this room after everything he'd spied going on in there. But Nico swallowed his chagrin and focussed his attention on deactivating the siren. Placing one foot on Grant's mattress, and the other on Alfie's, Nico straddled the tench that ran between the beds so that he could reach the smoke alarm on the ceiling. With arms raised to insert the key, there was no hiding his wayward hard-on. All the Lads saw it poking a tent in the corner of his red shorts, but only Alfie had the nerve to do something about it.

As soon as the alarm had been silenced, he stretched confidently across the bunk and whipped Nico's shorts right down his thighs. Having worn no underwear beneath, Nico's shameful boner swung out gleefully to the cheers and heckling of the Brits. Initially he tried to get his shorts back up - a perfectly understandable knee-jerk response to being suddenly denuded by a crowd of fit Bully Boys - but as he collapsed onto the mattress in Alfie's strong arms, he realised he was being drawn into more of the hot action he'd been peeking on from outside the door.

Locking the Nico's arms behind his back, Alfie splayed the boy over his manly chest, and the Lads crowded round to admire their catch.

"Quick Charlie mate, suck him off!" Alfie commanded, and Charlie readily obeyed, glossing the chico's bellend like a popsicle.

They must have been the same age, and Charlie remarked in his own mind upon how boy cock compared with Grant's fearsome piece of steak. Nico tasted sweet and easy.

"Now smack his balls!" Alfie barked, and Charlie obeyed, quitting his sup to give Nico's buoyant sack a tidy slap.

"¡Aye!" the hall boy gasped, shocked but delighted with the strike. Having grown up gay in Majorca, he knew the stories about General Quintus. And of course he'd seen the naughty frescos in the Villa Museum. And like every little faggot on the island these past two thousand years, the mean ball bashing scene had always been his favourite picture - an ultimate fantasy of utter sexual vanquishment. And it had become a kink he'd embraced, encouraging all his lovers to slam his balls, and rarely knocking one out without giving himself a nice tap. But he'd never been set upon by a gang before.

"You like that, maricon?" Alfie taunted.

"Fuck, yes!" Nico spat, living his dream, and begging for more of the same.

"Jackson, get involved!" Alfie continued, inviting Nico's favourite chav lad to step up to the plate.

Jackson went down on Nico deeper than Charlie had done, eager to get his chops on a cock longer than two and a half inches. And like Charlie before him, he relished the boy's sweetness, gently absorbing drops of Spanish penis juice with his tongue. Nico weakened at Jackson's suck, wishing the fit lad was his boyfriend. Leslie carefully videoed the encounter on his iPhone.

"Now slap his balls!" Alfie ordered, and Jackson dealt the Dago a decent smack. Nico cringed, but straightened himself out pretty fast,

"Again! Do it again!" he begged, scoring a second drubbing.

Reeling from the pain in his testis, Nico was in Paradise. But then all the Boys were in Paradise. This was the best night of their whole lives.

"Alright, move over," Grant intruded, taking pole position. The Lads cheered him on.

Skipping the blowjob part altogether (as would any self-respecting Top), he went straight in for ball bashing. Trained in boxing, Grant started weaving bobbing as if confronting an opponent in the ring. He shadow boxed twice, making Nico wince unnecessarily. The gang guffawed.

"Why are you bitching about my piss on the floor?" he demanded, "You fucking love it, you dirty bitch!"

Then remembering how his socks had sopped up swathes of piss as he'd stumbled back from the toilet, he peeled one off his foot and brought it close to Nico's face. The white cotton was yellowed and grubby.

"You want my piss, faggot?"

"Mmmm, fuck yeah!" Nico brayed, impatient to get nasty.

Grant rewarded him stuffing the filthy rag into his mouth and clapping him an almighty thump square in the gonads. Nico bit down on the sock, releasing soaked piss water and tasting all Grant's bitter gifts. The British Lads had picked on the right boy. Nico could rise to meet with anything they threw at him.

Underneath him this whole time, Alfie could sense every detail of pain pulse through Nico's body. The tensions and contortions rolled over

Alfie's pecs and abs in the most sensual play of bestial physicality. With the spaniard pinned so closely, their arms entwined, they moved as one, lifting and falling together in waves of ecstasy. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever done, and he followed Grant's punches with slow deliberate kisses on Nico's tensing neck.

Leslie still watched through his phone, his heart swelling with an evil pride for his Big Bro. Grant was so cool. Why had he never allowed himself to fancy the Tough Guy before? The Stud's incredible Dong pendulated between his stocky thighs as he beasted Nico's balls, making Leslie thirsty for a taste of it. He wouldn't have to wait much longer.

Now Scott wanted his turn ball busting. Diving right in, he immediately took Nico's left testicle between finger and thumb and simply pressed on it. The Lads couldn't help but groan and siss in sympathy, it was a sight for sore eyes, but Scott was unremitting, holding firm as Nico howled through clenched teeth.

"I've always wanted to do this," Scott chuckled affably, his friendly demeanour in stark contrast with the torture he was inflicting.

Nico twisted his pelvis and writhed from head to toe, but neither Scott nor Alfie released him from the blissful throes of agony.

"Let's see how long he can take it," Scott smiled, and Charlie's flaccid willy trembled.

Nico gnawed every drop of piss out that sock before Scott left him go, but when relief was finally granted to him, it dawned like some spiritual deliverance. Alfie needed a break after that too, loosening his hold and letting the poor boy slump into the sheets.

"Was that alright?" Scott enquired, checking up on his victim with a bofty and a grin.

Nico pulled the old sock fro his maw,

"¡Dios mio!"

"Let me fuck you," Scott persisted, opening Nico's legs wide again.

"Fuck me, Daddy Bear," Nico pleaded sweetly, his voice still thin after his ordeal, and Scott got straight to business, keen to partake some of the Top fun he'd seen Grant and Alfie enjoy with their boys before.

Quite unlike Charlie or Leslie, Nico had plenty of practice getting fucked in the bussy, and he accepted Scott readily. The Fat Lad had done the best job of tormenting Nico's bollocks, and he'd earned the right to claim his ass. Scott's choad plugged the junior's boi hole cheerily. If the depth of his affections proved to be something of a disappointment, he more than made up for it with gusto and bonhomie. Nico gave in to the rapture.

Stood beside them, Jackson bristled with all the same jealousy Leslie had suffered, and had to admit that he'd fallen in love. Scott had that effect on people. The hall boy was getting a fuck off his Hubby! Well, Husband to be... Well, his sister's Husband to be... But they'd all agreed it was two for one!

Feeling mad sexed up all over again, Grant was already back on his bunk forcing his massive cock into his little brother's gob, and not wanting dwell on petty resentments, Jackson pulled Charlie in for a kiss. He silently set himself the challenge of teasing an erection out of the nervous apprentice. He wouldn't succeed, but they'd both have a lot of fun trying.

Alfie snuck out with his cigarettes, leaving the others to rut in peace. In only his football shorts, he took a piss down the hall before descending the steps to make his way out into the street for a much needed smoke. What a fucking night! Snickering to himself, and ruminating further on his Only Fans idea, Alfie saw a figure at the end of the alley he thought he recognised. As the silhouette approached it became clear.

"Hey, did you fuck Spanish pussy?" Luca quipped sarcastically, knowing the lout wouldn't have scored any birds.

"Nah," Alfie squinted in the faint orange glow of his tokes, "only frigid slags in the club."

Luca gave a short chuckle. He'd been thinking about Alfie all day. The brief moment of banter they'd shared that morning was electric, and now destiny had drawn them back together again in the liminal hour before sunrise. The shapely curves and hairs of Alfie's chest were accentuated in the shadow and crest of orange streetlight, his gold chain necklace sparkling.

"You know, Dago lads like Gammon actually," Luca dared to tell him.

Taking another drag on his cigarette, Alfie yanked down the waistband of his shorts, letting his dick hang free. Luca needed no more encouragement. Right there in public he threw himself on Alfie's penis. He didn't care if his own Grandmother was passing by, he wanted this more than life itself. Alfie was the finest Man alive - the perfect Fit Lad. His body smelled fantastic. His dick tasted unreal. Luca kissed it like a Marine come home on leave.

As it happens, there were passersby. The beach parties wound down and shut off their music, and gaggles of British slappers tottered on their heels back to their hotels and apartments in the town. They had to pass Alfie on the way, and one after another they mewed and sneered at the spectacle that met their eyes, all twisted with envy at what they'd failed to score that night for themselves.

But Alfie didn't deign to respond. He simply puffed on his smokes as Luca sucked him off. And Luca listened to the tirade of hysterical abuse with beating heart, plunging his face down harder on the dick that steadily pissed an arrogant nectar over his fires.

The Lads were staying another five nights. There was plenty of time for more of this, and more of that going on in the room upstairs. What a fucking night! Lads on Tour!