chapter 10

I felt my body relax once the door was closed. After rummaging through his backpack, Amos just stood there, a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved collard shirt. He looked good even in casual clothing. His torso was long and lean, and the sleeves of the shirt hugged his arms seductively.

“Russ,” he said in a low voice. “This might not be the appropriate timing, but I need to fuck you.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Twenty of my family members were a floor below us, and this was the time he felt prepared to fuck me? He made his way closer to me, reaching out to squeeze one of my nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. Ever since the piercings healed a few months ago, they’d become an extra-sensitive source of arousal. I was already getting hard, and he’d barely touched me. “Amos, we can’t,” I whined.

“You don’t want this?” he asked.

“I mean—Amos,” I said, trying to make a sensible decision. But his free hand found its way to my crotch, rubbing my dick gently through the fabric as he continued to work my nipple with his other hand. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back a bit.

“They all couldn’t believe their eyes,” Amos whispered, his voice clear and dripping with lust. Him wanting me so badly was making me feel valuable again. I wanted this more than anything, to be what he wanted. “Your dad doesn’t mince words, does he? ‘Damn, boy. You’ve got more ass than your momma.’”

He turned me around and we stood looking at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply needed to explore my body with his hands to let me know what he was thinking. The way his hands sat under my chest, holding each fatty pec in his strong hands, squeezing them, jiggling them. My nipples were as hard as my dick at this point, and I had no intention of stopping Amos anymore. Not like I ever really would’ve in the first place. He had the control. He always had, even when I thought I was making a choice, Amos was pulling the strings.

His hands caressed my stomach, cupping the bottom of my gut and holding the weight of it up before letting it drop. It was solid from the two hours of snacking, but it was usually firm. He squeezed it again and again in different sections, inspecting every piece of fat he’d managed to pack on my body.

He moved one hand away from my belly, and I could hear the buckle of his belt being undone. Then I felt his hardness pressing into my back, warm and incredibly stiff. I saw him slip a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from the front pocket of his jeans. He set them on the dresser before shimmying out of his pants. I could hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor so I knew his pants must have been around his ankles. He positioned his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugged gently, still pressing against me. I watched him closely in the mirror as he worked, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I had wanted this since the day we met, and it was really going to happen. He tried pulling the sweats down, but the fabric got stuck around my thighs. I wiggled a little, causing the sweatpants to drop lower and allowing me to spread my legs a little bit further apart.

He placed his hands on my hips and I leaned forward, resting my palms on the top of the dresser. He gave my ass a smack and I could feel the sting of his palm resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh god,” I breathed.

“To think you’ve gotten this big in a year,” he said. “It only makes me wonder how much bigger I can make you.”

“You want me to get bigger?” I asked, losing myself in the foreplay.

“I know you’re not that tall, but you could get to at least 400 pounds and get around fine.”

“425,” I countered.

“450.”

He reached for the bottle of lube and opened it effortlessly. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and his dick, coating his member completely before spreading my cheeks to have access to my asshole. Slowly, he touched me with one finger, sliding it in gently. He worked my hole with the one finger for a few moments before sliding in another. His breathing was deep and intense, his face serious.

“I’ve got to put it in, Russ,” he said, looking at my face in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

I just nodded. He held one cheek in his hand, his dick in the other. He guided himself inside of me, the tip entering me gently. He stayed that way for a moment, not moving a muscle. I knew it was so he wouldn’t hurt me, but I felt perfectly fine. I needed more. I needed all of him inside of me. I pushed my ass against his front, taking in a majority of his dick in the process.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered as I pounded my ass against his thighs. He gave my ass a loud slap. I was salivating. I could feel the pools of spit in my mouth, and I swallowed as not to make a mess. Every time Amos let me ejaculate this past year, some sort of dessert was involved. I couldn’t help but crave some sort of sweet treat. What I wouldn’t give for a doughnut or one of those Banana Cream Pie cupcakes. I pulled forward and pushed back again and again, his dick hitting what I could only assume to be my prostate. I was in a simple black jock, my dick barely cradled in the front cup, leaking pre-cum profusely. “Whoa, Russ. You don’t have to rush.”

“It feels so good, Amos,” I moaned. “I love your dick.” He just smirked, allowing me to continue my back-and-forth motion. We were at it nearly ten minutes when Amos came. My dick was dribbling so much, when I went to reposition it, cum shot all over the mirror and dresser.

“Damn, Russ.”

“Amos, I’m hungry.”

We got cleaned up after that and headed back downstairs. I was utterly dickmatized. Whatever my family talked to me about went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to eat and get fucked again, but one of those things was too risky to attempt a second time, so I simply stuffed my face. Bobby walked up to me as I licked some chicken grease off my fingers. He just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked. I was closer to Bobby than my oldest brother, so I really was worried about what he had to say about this whole situation.

“You’re not really the little brother around here anymore, are you?”

“I guess not,” I answered, laughing myself. Leave it to him to make a joke. I appreciated it.

“You and the white dude—Amos,” he clarified, to show respect, “are into some freaky shit. You know we could kind of hear y’all thumping around up there, right?”

“Aw, well, that’s my bad, not his.” I did kind of take over up there. Hopefully they just heard the thumping and not anything we were saying.

“And I’m not judging,” he added, throwing up his hands. “You seem happier like this. He’s got to have something to do with that, yeah?”

Looking over at Amos, who was talking to Terry and his wife, I couldn’t help but notice that he fit in perfectly, even in a house full of people who were very different than he was. He did take care of me and make me feel valued. Reflecting on how long it took for us to actually meet up, I could kick myself for thinking that Amos could be anything less than amazing. He was my home now, my family. In one incredible year, my life would forever be changed for the better. And hey, maybe Amos would really get me to 450 (but seriously, that probably was less of sex-talk and more of a promise. Amos was always a man of his word).

“Yeah,” I said, “I feel like when I’m with him, it’s where I belong.”

The End!