That was what I read as The Postboy wriggled out his red stretch jeans and poked his arse back a little closer to my face. We were both on the bed, both on all fours as if laying carpet, with John barking out commands from his wheelchair on the sidelines. With Brian's trousers removed he was now completely naked. I was halfway there but still wearing my wife-beater vest and Y-fronts. I didn't want to look up. I was still secretly praying for divine intervention, for something to happen which would stop this hideous game from going any further.

“You can touch me, you know!” said Brian turning his head. “I mean, I'm yours, you can just rape my arse... burst me wide open, anything!”
“Tristy, get your fucking pants off! I want that sweet arse of yours to lure me out this fucking chair, now get 'em off!” ordered John. I pushed my Y-fronts down and off but kept my vest on. Brian looked around at a strange angle, trying to see if my dick was more involved than my brain. It was. I had one of those hard ons that are there to stay. And now it was exposed I couldn't help gripping it, touching it. It was so sensitive that against my will I kept drifting off into oceans of pleasure. It felt good, and when Brian's hand shot backwards and gave it few hard tugs, it felt even better. God! I gyrated around in Brian's hold for a moment, then stopped. My brain was still fighting against my body's desire. I was in conflict, falling in and out of the Pleasuredome. I wanted to turn around and give myself up to John. For Brian to disappear, to leave John and I alone to fuck ourselves back in time, back to when everything kinda worked. But Brian was going nowhere and I knew it. With no other option available I threw myself forward and ground my face into his bottom.

Brian's bottom was dry. It smelt of cheap medical soap and deodorant. It could have been a shaved armpit. The buttocks themselves were smooth but hard and angular. I knew if I slammed into him with any force our bones would whack together and it would be painful. I imagined his buttocks hitting my hip bone and winced. Still, this little shit was gonna get it, I could feel it coming. I was gonna devour him, then fuck him, then fuck John! I would use my passion as an excuse to do something completely out of character... make an unexpected lunge for John's cock or something.

With the animal now alive inside me, I flung Brian around on his back and pushed his legs up and open. That's when I saw 'it' and recoiled in shock. Brian, pathetic postboy Brian, Aristotle to friends, had the smallest, most bizarre, disgusting little maggot of a dick I had ever seen. It was no more than an inch long with a tiny pink helmet poking out the top. It looked like a nail varnished little toe. It was the penis that only a ginger-haired boy could have. I chucked Brian's legs to one side and leapt up off the bed. “I'm not letting him fuck me with that thing!” I screamed “no fucking way!”

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