Many Lives and Loves of Richard 05

This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

**..**

Entering the small lobby of the apartment building, Richard stopped himself from using the sleeve of his suit jacket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled the handkerchief from the pocket.

Standing in the small lobby, he could hear a rhythmic 'clank' from behind one of the two doors. He did not know if it was from the exercise room the apartment building provided, or from the laundry room. Nor did Richard much care where the source of the noise might be as he checked his mailbox.

"Nothing," he muttered.

He'd done the revisions Dee Frankel, his editor had suggested. Althea Ridge, his literary agent had been less than enthused with 'The Traveler' though. According to that poor pitiful excuse of a human being, Richard's novel just lacked that certain something, that spark.

"Richard, the pages are just, hmm, flat. There's black ink and white spaces and they're just, flat," she had said the last time he'd called to see if there'd been any development.

The May days were longer; Richard was grateful for that. Sunshine meant he could walk from Cosgrove's Department Store to the apartment, rather than taking the bus. But, to his surprise, May was quite warm in Rosenthal, Massachusetts. Jiggling his mailbox key from the lock, Richard turned and trudged up the stairs.

Suddenly, he heard hammering feet. Before he even had time to react, Richard was lifted off of his feet. Someone grabbed him from the left and someone else grabbed him from the right. Feet dangling off of the steps, Richard was carried up three flights of steps to the fourth floor landing.

"There you go," a cheerful voice said and Richard was again on his feet.

"No charge," the other young man said.

"I, uh, damn!" Richard stammered out as two handsome men opened the door of the fourth floor.

Both young men wore baggy flannel shorts and red nylon jogging shoes. Both were shirtless, displaying massive chests, washboard abdomens, bulging biceps and forearms and massive thighs.

"See you," the curly haired young man smiled.

"Hey, you smoke?" the blond haired man asked.

"Smoke? No, no, Jesus, can't stand the way that shit smells," Richard said, curling up his lip in disgust. "My mother? Smokes like three packs a day and..."

"No, no, not cigarettes," the curly headed young man smiled.

"Ganja, mon," the blond said, affecting a Caribbean accent.

"Weed. Pot. Marijuana. Cannabis," the other young man confirmed.

"I uh, yeah, yeah, I mean, when I can afford it," Richard eagerly agreed, trying not to ogle their beautifully sculpted bodies.

"Bet you can afford free, huh?" the blond suggested.

"We're right here in four A," the curly headed man said just before the door of the fourth floor landing clicked shut.

Richard walked back down the stairs to the third floor. He shook his head at the antics of the two young men, allowing a smile to crease his weary face. Letting himself into Apartment 3C, he hurried out of his sweaty suit jacket and worked his tie loose. He wished the apartment had screens on the windows but for some reason, the owner of the building was too cheap to have screens installed.

Working the band from his long ponytail, Richard took a quick shower. After toweling dry, he pulled on a Josh Allen Buffalo Bills jersey. Even though it was an Adult Male 'Small' jersey, the garment hung loose on his five foot four inch frame. His short height and one hundred and nineteen pound body was designed for the Youth department at Cosgrove's Department Store.

Pulling on a pair of Bat Man briefs, Richard scampered to the kitchen and made himself a calorie-laden fruit smoothie. His last act was to stir in some Weight-Gain powder.

"Fuck it," Richard said. "I don't go in 'til one tomorrow."

Pulling on a pair of shorts and slipping on his flip flops, Richard made sure he had his keys and left the apartment. Entering the hall for the fourth floor, he approached 4A and hesitated for a long moment. Then, chiding himself for being such a wimp, he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" someone called out, affecting a high pitched falsetto.

"I uh, hi. I, I'm Richard. Richard O'Shea. From downstairs," Richard called out.

"Hey," the curly headed man said, flinging the door open.

"Richard O'Shea? Any relation to that douche bag asshat Donny O'Shea?" the blond man asked, stepping from another room into the living room of the apartment.

"Is that, is THAT a Buffalo Bills jersey?" the curly headed man thundered.

Richard gawked; both men were now nude. Their bodies no longer sported the sheen of sweat they'd had sported earlier, but earlier, both men had worn shorts.

"Uh yeah. Shit, Patriots ain't been worth a shit since Brady left," Richard defended.

"Ready to smoke a bowl?" the blond man smiled, producing a curiously shaped bong.

"I uh, yeah, uh," Richard swallowed as the blond man patted the couch cushion next to him.

It was disconcerting enough, looking at two long, thick cocks, two sets of hairless balls and small tufts of pubic hairs. But their complete ease with their nudity was unnerving. He noticed that the bond was uncircumcised as his fat cock lay on his left thigh.

The bong was shaped like a fat cock. The marijuana was damped down into one of the balls; Richard guessed the water went into the other ball. He watched as the blond man wrapped his lips around the head of the cock and gave a greedy suck. Holding the smoke in, the young man passed the bong to Richard.

"By the way," the curly headed man said, waiting for his turn with the bong. "I'm Brandon."

"Hey. Richard," Richard said, voice strangled as he held the smoke in his lungs.

"Mm? Oh! Shit; I'm Ricky," the Blond man said.

"Richard," Richard needlessly said again.

"That is some good shit," Richard said after they had finished the bowl.

"Hit it with some cannabis oil," Rickey disclosed.

"Want something to drink?" Brandon asked, resting a beefy paw on Richard's bare thigh.

"Grab me a..." Rickey said.

"... Barley," Brandon finished for his roommate. "Richard?"

Richard opted for the same and Brandon returned, long thick cock flopping lazily back and forth as he carried three sixteen ounce Terlings Barley beer bottles in his hands. Richard blushed hotly and averted his eyes as he accepted the ice cold beer.

They smoked another bowl of the potent marijuana. They'd already talked about their jobs; Richard was a sales associate at Cosgrove's Department Store, working in the Housewares Department. Rickey and Brandon both sold cars; Brandon worked for a local Ford dealership and Rickey worked at Donny O'Shea's Pre-Owned Automobiles sales lot.

As they smoked the second bowl, Richard told them of being an aspiring writer. Rickey and Brandon seemed interested so Richard told them of his latest endeavors; he had an agent and an editor.

"Fuck. When we're not selling cars? We're doing body building shows," Rickey said, flexing his massive muscles.

"Yeah. You uh, might have noticed but uh, we're kind of into body building," Brandon smiled, also flexing.

"No, hadn't noticed," Richard joked.

After Richard finished his beer; Brandon and Rickey were both on their second beers, Rickey suggested the hour was late. Richard got to wobbly legs and thanked the two young men for their hospitality.

"Listen," Brandon said as they stood. "We? We're two tops."

"Huh?" Richard asked, pausing by the door of the apartment.

"We're both tops," Rickey smiled, looping his arm around his roommate's slim waist.

"What's a..." Richard asked.

"And we're always open to finding ourselves a cute little bottom," Brandon stated, wrapping his arm around Rickey's waist.

"Bottom?" Richard queried, his thoughts hazy from the marijuana and his belly heavy from the beer.

"So, you ever in the mood to get fucked? Come on up," Brandon offered.

"Or need to have some good weed of your own," Rickey verified.

"What was that saying?" Brandon asked Rickey.

"Grass or ass, no one rides for free," Rickey said and the two body builders chuckled.

"Hope we see you again," Brandon said, opening the door for Richard.

"Soon," Rickey said.

Richard stumbled down the stairs, his head in a fog. The haze had nothing to do with the excellent marijuana or the somewhat unpleasant tasting beer. The entire time they'd smoked, talked, drank and talked, he had kept looking at their fat cocks and large balls.

"Fuck! I, I ain't gay," Richard insisted as he let himself into Apartment 3C.

As if driven by the need to prove it to himself, Richard looked up some pornography on his laptop computer. He intentionally looked up depictions of heterosexual activity. The cute ponytailed brunette he'd selected did look as if she was enjoying the act of fellatio. Her moans and gasps of pleasure seemed genuine as she slurped noisily on the rather impressive cock in her mouth.

"I wonder what that's like," Richard mused as he paused in his masturbation.

"Getting your cock sucked," Richard blurted out very quickly. "I wonder what it's like to get your whang sucked. Not what it's like to suck a cock."

After a weak ejaculation, Richard decided to look up what a 'TOP' and a 'BOTTOM' was. He was sure he knew, but wanted to verify.

"Augh!" he said, anus clenching tightly as his suspicions were proven correct.

He then decided to look up local body building competitions. He found videos featuring his new friends and gawked at their displays. Just sitting, smoking weed, relaxing, Rickey and Brandon had been magnificent displays of male flesh. But in competitive posing, they were truly jaw-dropping. Richard found his hand on his four inch erection, tugging himself.

"Quit!" he angrily chided himself, shutting off his computer.

His dreams that night were twisted jumbles of homosexual activity. In the morning, Richard felt as if he had not slept at all. His morning erection was persistent and he had trouble urinating.

Another dismal day of rude customers, rude coworkers and demanding managers went by. Richard tiredly made his way to the apartment building and let himself into the lobby. He listened for a moment but did not hear the 'clank-clank-clank' he'd heard the previous evening. There were five cars in the rear parking lot, but he did not know any of the car's owners, so did not know if Rickey and Brandon would be home.

"What? Why, why you even give a fuck if they're home? What? You going to go up there?" Richard asked himself as he tossed the sales flier for a local humeral home and cemetery into the lobby's trash can.

"Need to do some writing anyway," Richard demanded of himself.

When he pulled up the word processing program he sat and stared at the blank white page. The cute small breasted brunette called to him. So after a few moments of attempting to write something, Richard clicked on the link for Angie Jewels. He was more than sure that this was not the girl's real name.

"So, what, what's that taste like?" Richard asked himself as Angie blew two cocks, then licked their sperm from her smiling face.

"Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck you; what the fuck does it, who cares what jizz tastes like?" Richard yelled, quickly ceasing with his masturbation.

He had the evening shift the following day so did his laundry. Even though there were two signs, one on the east wall over the five washing machines and one on the west wall over the five dryers announcing that all unattended clothing would be confiscated, washing machines one and four had moldy clothing in them. And Dryer three had clothes that were cool to the touch.

The evening shift had Richard working with Gil, the department manager. The handsome older man sported a severe buzz cut that had a lot of gray threaded throughout. He'd neglected to shave that morning so sported a manly patch of stubble on cheeks and chin.

The evening dragged on; Richard was distracted for much of the night as he wondered about the upcoming body building competition Brooke College would be hosting.

"Yeah. And why you even want to go to that?" Richard asked himself, even pinching his own scrawny bicep.

"So, what shift you got tomorrow?" Gil asked as they began the shutdown sequence.

"Off tomorrow," Richard reminded the man. "I ask you something?"

"You know, I just love that Texas twang of yours," Gil smiled, nodding with satisfaction when the tally matched the computer's tally. "What you got?"

"Okay, I'm off tomorrow," Richard said.

"Uh huh," Gill agreed.

"And so, I got the evening shift tonight. Then, on Friday? I got the morning shift. Kind of sucks," Richard said.

"Huh!" Gil agreed. "I, uh, I'll take a look at it for next week, okay?"

"I mean, I'm just saying," Richard continued.

Throughout that Thursday, Richard talked himself into walking up to Apartment 4A. The first and second time, he chickened out and hurried away. The third, fourth, and fifth time, he did knock, but there was no answer.

Friday, after work, he didn't stop at Apartment 3C, just continued up to the fourth floor and knocked on Apartment 4A. Again, there was no answer.

Sunday, Cosgrove Department Store was open from nine until four. The buses did not run on Sunday and Richard was covered in sweat when he reached the apartment building. He immediately dashed to his apartment to shower away the sweat.

"So, what does someone wear for..." Richard asked himself, cock painfully hard and throbbing as he toweled dry.

Digging around, he found an old Tom Brady New England Patriots jersey at the bottom of the stack of tee shirts and other pullover shirts. At the last moment, he decided to go commando; he wasn't sure how sexy his friends would find his Spider Man briefs.

"Who is it?" Brandon sang through the door of Apartment 4A, affecting his high-pitched falsetto.

"It's, it's..." Richard tried to answer, but his heart was hammering in his throat.

"Oh! Hey, come by to congratulate Mr. First Place?" Brandon smiled, opening the door of the apartment.

"God! Please tell him 'no.' Tell him you came by to tell him the judges were drunk, stoned, and blind," Rickey complained, smiling from his perch on the couch.

"I uh," Richard stammered.

The bong was lighted and passed back and forth. Richard stripped out of his jersey and jeans, then grew fearful at the sight of Rickey's erection. The sight of Brandon's erection caused Richard to lose his own erection.

Both young men sported long thick cocks. When erect, Rickey's cock looked like a fat sausage and Richard's guts churned at the thought of him fucking his virgin hole. But Brandon's cock looked like a Louisville Slugger, ready to do some serious damage to an abused and abused ass.

"You can start off with a little mouth action," Rickey suggested, gently placing his hand on the back of Richard's head.

I uh, I've never, I mean, shit, I, I ain't gay," Richard protested even as Rickey easily pulled his mouth toward the fat cock.

With instincts guiding him, Richard wrapped his small hand around Rickey's cock. He opened his mouth and took the head of Rickey's cock into his mouth. His tongue wormed between head and foreskin and he could taste the soap on Rickey's cock. He could taste Rickey's warm flesh as he delved his tongue around Rickey's fat knob.

"Erg!" he grunted as he suddenly felt a thick finger pressing against his rosebud.

"Umm!" he protested as a greased finger pushed into his wiggling backdoor.

"Baby's got a nice tight one," Brandon said, thrusting his finger in and out of Richard's virgin hole.

"Baby's got a sweet, sweet mouth," Rickey groaned, hunching his hips up as Richard sucked and licked and stroked his cock.

"Yeah?" Brandon asked.

"Mmng! Erg!" Richard bucked slightly as Brandon added a second thick digit to his ass.

"Yeah," Rickey said, voice strangled. "Baby, Baby, here augh, here it comes..."

Richard screamed; he felt like crying as Rickey's semen suddenly flooded his mouth. He wanted to spit the semen out, run from the apartment.

"Aw that's it, that's it," Rickey encouraged as Richard swallowed the torrent of sperm.

"Let's see," Brandon said, lightly tugging on Richard's ponytail.

Twisting Richard around, Brandon fed Richard his fat cock. Richard used tongue, mouth and hands to coax Brandon's semen from Brandon's large, hairless balls.

"Ack!" he protested as Rickey did finger duty on his greasy anus.

"Fuck, Baby is tight," Rickey agreed, starting with two, then adding a third finger.

"And Baby's got a nice sweet mouth," Brandon agreed.

"We did 'rock, paper, scissors,'" Rickey informed Richard.

"And Mr. Fourth place won," Brandon said, gently holding Richard in place with a beefy paw at the back of his head.

"Push," Rickey counseled. "Push like you really got to poop."

"Aieegh!" Richard screamed as Rickey pressed the blunt head of his cock against Richard's greasy hole.

"Push," Rickey ordered.

Waves of searing, white hot pain shot from his squirming anus outward. Richard screamed and sobbed as his anus felt as if it were being torn apart. He was sure he could feel blood dripping from his violated anus, trickling down along his balls.

"I, aw, oh, oh shit yes!" Brandon gasped out and began pumping a geyser of sperm into Richard's gasping mouth.

"Your nose. Breathe through your nose," Brandon advised, still holding Richard's head on his cock.

"Please, please stop," Richard sobbed as Rickey forced his cock into Richard's rectum.

Richard was sure he could feel the foreskin of Rickey's cock curling back, sliding along his aching rectal walls. He knew he could feel Rickey's fat meat stretching his anus, could feel Rickey's fat meat stuffing his rectum full.

"God, yes, aw Baby, that, that's it," Rickey encouraged, driving himself into Richard's bowels.

"Hey," Brandon said quietly. "Give me a kiss."

Richard and Brandon kissed passionately while Rickey knelt on the couch, fucking Richard's sweet ass. Richard gasped, then shuddered when he felt Rickey's heavy balls slap against his own small balls.

Because he'd blown one load into Richard's mouth, Rickey was able to fuck Richard's squirming, wiggling ass for several long strokes before stiffening and screaming his pleasure.

"Oh, oh God, I, God," Richard sobbed, slumping down on the soft couch.

"Smoke another bowl?" Brandon suggested, already tamping down a goodly amount of good marijuana.

Rickey handed Richard a folded up towel to sit on; they didn't want semen oozing from his stretched ass staining their couch.

"My turn," Brandon insisted when Rickey took the last hit from the bong.

Brandon had Richard straddle his hips, facing away. Sitting down gingerly, Richard gasped as the blunt head of Brandon's fat cock pressed firmly against Richard's abused anus.

"Like you're trying to poop," Brandon whispered, holding Richard in place.

I, it, it's too big," Richard sobbed out.

"It ain't too big. Just keep..." Brandon encouraged.

His anus was clamped as tightly as it could clamp. Even as Brandon tried to force his cock into Richard's bruised hole, Richard's anus refused to cooperate.

"Fuck!" Brandon spat, forcing his cock into Richard's protesting hole by thrusting upward while pulling Richard down.

"Aieegh! I, oh God! Oh God!" Richard screamed out.

Once the first entry had been made, though, Brandon's cock wormed easily upward into Richard's pulsing hole. Richard's weight, guided by Brandon's strength soon had Richard's compact buttocks resting squarely on Brandon's belly.

"Fucking pussy, come on," Brandon demanded as Richard sat, shuddering and gasping.

Brandon began to lift and drop Richard, effectively masturbating himself into Richard's slimy hole. Richard got the hint and began to heft himself up, then lower himself again. He began to squeeze his anus shut as he raised up, then relaxed the muscles to drop down again.

"That's it, that's it. Baby likes being a pussy; that right?" Brandon encouraged as Richard gasped and wheezed.

Richard felt an electric current building up in his guts. Suddenly, Richard's sock erupted in a flood of semen. A moment later, Brandon groaned and pumped his load into Richard's guts.

Rickey made a tofu stir-fry and the three friends sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the very spicy meal. Then both men, taking pity on Richard's ruined ass, fucked Richard's face.

"You know where we are, Rickey said, giving Richard a soft kiss.

"Ever want to get fucked? Come on up," Brandon invited, giving Richard a passionate kiss.

Stumbling downstairs, Richard winced as each step caused tremors of pain to radiate outward from his stretched, raw anus. And, despite the pain, his cock throbbed with each step.

Sitting on his couch, feeling semen slowly oozing from his gaping rectum into the seat of his jeans, Richard opened a new document in his word processing program and began typing.

The next week crawled by. Whenever he had a day off, his handsome neighbors were working. Whenever he was not working, Richard was typing. Two hundred and fourteen pages later, Richard ran the spelling program, then ran the grammar check program. With a silent prayer, he sent an email to Dee Frankel, his editor and attached 'The Stain of Shame' to the email.

It was a miserable day; a late May thunderstorm had popped up just as Richard clocked in for the evening shift. On the second floor, they couldn't hear the rain pelting down, but they could hear the thunder rumbling. Richard hoped and prayed it would cease before his late night walk home.

He hummed to himself; both his editor and his agent had very encouraging words to say about 'The Stain of Shame.' Both had praised the maturity of his style and his bravery in approaching such a taboo subject.

It was just himself and Gil on this rainy night. Richard did enjoy working with his handsome older manager; the man was the type to manage by example, not demands. The rain was keeping customers out of the store and Richard had already straightened the displays several times.

"Hey uh, kid, listen," Gil said, gently resting a large paw on the small of Richard's back as they both leaned against the counter. "Shitty weather like this? You want, I'll give you a run on home."

"Yeah," Richard said gratefully, enjoying the smell of Gil's manly after-shave.

"So, uh, when, when you get home, what you like to do?" Gil asked nervously, hand still resting on Richard's back.

"Me? Nothing usually. I mean, I do some writing but...' Richard shrugged. "You? What you like to do?"

"Me? Shit, get out of this stupid suit, spark up; don't know if you smoke but hey, nothing wrong with a little of the weed, huh? Smartest thing they ever done; make marijuana legal," Gil confided.

"Yeah, I, uh, well, shit, can't really afford it a whole bunch but..." Richard admitted.

"Then watch a little man on man action. Yeah, I still got my old VCR, bunch of tapes," Gill continued, hand now resting on Richard's sweet ass.

"Man on... Did you say?" Richard croaked, looking up at Gil's reddened face.

"Yeah, hey, ain't like it's a big secret huh?" Gil asked, unable to make eye contact with his sales associate. "But yeah, I'm gay."

"I, I'm a bottom," Richard admitted, reaching his hand over and stroking his hand along the very nice lump in Gil's trousers.

"Yeah? Want to come on over?" Gil asked, squeezing Richard's delectable buttocks through suit trousers.

"Yes!" Richard enthused.

The End

**..**

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. Thank you for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that rate my words, those that 'Favorite' my works.

This is one of those anomalies; there are no characters from any other JimBob44 stories making an appearance in this tale.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.