Breaking The Arrangement

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Ass

My name is Web Dazell and there’s a little history to go with this story.

I began writing The Arrangement/Breaking the Arrangement back in 2002, posting each chapter on the ASSTR and Nifty websites as they were completed. What is posted below are all of the completed chapters of both stories combined into one. Other than combining the completed chapters, the story is just as it was posted 12 years ago, typos and all.

I emphasize completed chapters because in mid-2003 I was diagnosed with depression. The medicine that was prescribed for my depression worked very well but it had one rather strange side effect; I no longer had any need to write.

Understand that I wasn’t writing so much because I wanted to, as I was writing because I had to. All of these characters were swarming around in my head demanding to be let out and I spent many a late night in front of my computer screen doing their bidding. (No, I wasn’t schizophrenic, just depressed.)

The Arrangement/Breaking the Arrangement wasn’t the only story I wrote (although it is the only autobiographical story) and Web Dazell wasn’t the only pseudonym I wrote under. But, not matter what the series or the pen name, my compulsion to “always scribble, scribble, scribble, Eh Mr. Gibbons” faded.

Now, twelve years later, the desire (not need) to write is coming back but before I dedicated much of my free time to what Graham Greene called “a lonely and unsatisfying occupation” I wanted to test the waters.

None of my guises had ever posted to Literotica before and I thought that, as a reader, your response to my work would be a good indicator of whether or not to return to the keyboard.

So I hope you enjoy the story and, that if you do, you’ll let me know.

Web

*

The Arrangement by Web Dazell

What follows is a true story. What you are reading about actually happened to me in the late 60’s when I was 18. Many of the details in the story are as sharp in my memory today as when they first happened. Now, after all these years have passed, I don’t claim (ala Archie Goodwin) to be able to remember all of the conversations word for word (Especially not what the suckees said as they spilled their seed across my tongue, I was too busy to take notes and, anyhow I never dreamed back then that I would be writing about it today.). But the dialogue in the story is at least in the general vicinity of what was said or groaned and in some cases it is almost exact (because some things do stick with you for a lifetime.) So as you read this story remember these events did happen to me. Nothing important in this story is fiction.

The Arrangement — Chapter One

When I was younger a friend and I used to do the usual kid stuff in his father’s barn and our agreement was that it was OK because neither of us would tell on the other.

At first it was the “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” type of stuff. After that we got into the dares, the same sort or half-kidding / half-serious banter kids do.

One day I was looking as his uncut cock when he asked me to give him a handjob “You know you want to, I can see it in your eyes. Come on, I won’t tell anybody and I know you won’t. Just spit on your hand and rub my dick for a little while. After I come, I’ll rub yours.”

After a few handjobs (which grew less and less mutual as time went on) I spent a Friday night at his house. His bedroom was upstairs on the other side of the house from his parents who slept downstairs. There were two beds in his room, his and an older brother’s who had joined the army. We had snuck a couple of beers from the fridge (which was always full on a farm) and we were high and giddy like two teenagers can get on some forbidden beers but not drunk.

He reached under his pillow on pulled out a red foil square. “I know you want to blow me, I’ve seen you licking your lips while you jack me off. I’ll put on this rubber (which he had stolen from his father’s dresser) and you can suck me without getting any jizz in you mouth cause I know you don’t like the taste. (Which was true, I had accidentally licked my hand after one of our jack off sessions and immediately spit out his sperm.) Come on it’ll be fun. You want to and I want you to and no one will know.”

Well he was right, I did want to. I wanted to know how his dick would feel in my mouth. When I jacked him off his dick was hot and hard and flat on the top. It was like holding one of those square carpenter pencil in my hand, only a little shorter and a lot thicker. My mouth went dry and my head was tight and pounding, my breath coming in small catches. Jacking a guy off was one thing, sucking his dick was another. One was play, the other, well the other was queer. “Hey Web, don’t be afraid. The rubber will catch everything. It’ll be just like jacking me off only you’ll be using your lips instead of your fingers.

I agreed to suck him, if he would wear the rubber.

He opened the package and pulled casino oyna out the condom. Then he smiled and said “As long as you’re going to suck me, why don’t you put the rubber on my dick?” I can still remember the feel of the latex uncurling at the bottom on my hand as I slid the rubber down his warm erection. After that, well, his cock felt just right in my mouth.

That set a new pattern for our activities, handjobs were old stuff, kid’s stuff, only used as foreplay, a prelude to my sliding the unlubricated Trojan down his erection and plying “bobbing for apples” in his crotch. One night he even got me to suck his balls. This too became a regular part of our festivities. But always the rubber because if his cum didn’t touch my tongue I wasn’t really a cocksucker.

After about two months of this (and this didn’t happen every day or even every week sometimes) I was over to his house to watch some television. His parents were out bowling (it was their league night) so we listened to some “Rusty Warren records “Knockers Up” I think the name was, and laughed at this forbidden adult humor (very lame by today’s standards). Instead of beer, we snuck into the liquor supply and poured ourselves some rum that we mixed with orange juice. Later we started looking at some Playboys from his father’s closet, our pants developing ridgepoles in a very quick fashion.

“Come `on let’s go up stairs before my parents get back. I need a blowjob bad and if you lick your lips one more time while you look at me I’m going to waste my load in my pants.”

As we walked up the narrow stairs to his room, I noticed he had brought the bottle of rum with him. When he saw me looking at the bottle he laughed and said, “Don’t worry, you’ll find out what this is for, now come on let’s get going.”

Once we undressed and he was lying on his back on the bed, things progressed a little faster than usual; we wanted to finish having our fun before his parents got home. God knows what would happen if they caught us. Nothing pleasant, that’s for sure.

As my hand stroked his cock, he leaked precum liked an oil derrick about to erupt. His hand reached out to stop my caresses. ” You do that anymore Web and I’m gonna shoot. Come on take it in your mouth. Suck me off.”

“Where’s the rubber,” I asked looking at the nightstand next to the bed. “Don’t have any,” he replied with a gleam in his eye. “Dad’s either out or he’s putting them someplace else. That’s what the rum’s for.”

I sat up stupefied, my hand still wrapped tightly around his dick, my fingers feeling his juices oozing slowly down across them.

“Listen stupid, I don’t have any rubber but I do have a load of jizz in my balls that needs to come out and I don’t want a handjob. The only reason we’ve been using a rubber when you suck my cock is because you don’t like the taste. Well take a swig of that rum, swish it around your mouth and swallow it. It’ll kill the taste and you can have another swig when you’re done. Hurry up, we don’t have all night. You’re a cocksucker. You’re my cocksucker, now get going and suck my cock.”

Almost mesmerized I did as I had been bidden. The rum tasted sharp and harsh in my mouth but his cock, his cock was like velvet wrapped steel and his precum quickly coated the inside of my mouth and soothed the burning of the alcohol.

“Oh god, Web that feels great. Hold still. Don’t move. Ok now play with my balls, Hey, not so hard; be gentle when you roll them around. “Ok now suck hard. Wrap those lips on my dick so no air gets in. That’s it. That’s it. Stick your tongue in my pisshole, wriggle it around. Oh man that’s so great. Eat my dick you little cocksucker.”

And then he did something he had never done in all the other times I had sucked him. He reached down with his arms (which were always crossed behind his head, he liked to sit semi-upright while I sucked him, his back against the headboard. Said it was a great view, better than anything he’d seen in Playboy.) and took my head between his hands. Holding me steady and with a sound like a cross between a moan and a sob he treated me to my first real taste of sperm.

The Arrangement — Chapter Two

The night he gave me my first mouthful of sperm marked still another change in the relationship. It was now a special sort of give and take association, one where he gave me his sperm and I took it. All pretense we were a merry marching mutual masturbation society vanished. The few handjobs he had given me (he had never even come close to my dick with his lips) were long forgotten. I was there to service him. To slobber over his hard-on. To pump it with hand and lips until it went limp with satisfaction. To catch his spendings in my palm or in my mouth. And I found I didn’t mind.

It just seemed so natural, so right to be his sexual servant, to watch his soft cock grow stiff under my ministrations, to feel its strength, to rejoice in his moans of pleasure. I didn’t need the roughness of his canlı casino callused young farmer’s hands on my dick to bring me satisfaction. The sight of his white sperm jetting in a creamy arc, the feel of its hot wetness splashing on my flesh, its thick coppery taste dancing on my tongue (yes, I had begun to suck him without the rubber or the rum but still hadn’t swallowed) were my reward and, if they weren’t enough to get me off right then, well a few self-administered strokes of my dick always did the trick.

The oddest thing about this was our sex didn’t affect our friendship. It was as though we were two different sets of people. We continued to fish, swim and ride our bikes together. We did chores on the farm together, worked on cars together and all without the slightest aura of sexual longing. I guess we led two lives.

And, unlike most of the stories you read, despite being young teens, (He was three years older than I.) we weren’t having sex at every opportunity (or maybe it’s more correct al la President Clinton who thinks oral sex is only sex to the giver, to say I wasn’t having sex at every opportunity.) For the most part our only sex play was when we’d spend the night together. Then there was no question what was going to happen. From the moment we entered the bedroom and he took his clothes off I would spend the night between his legs, coaxing him to climax, once, twice and even three times if I could. So I was excited and so was he when we went to spend the weekend at his grandmother’s in the big city, especially since we hadn’t spent the night together in over a month.

We’d stayed at his grandmother’s before but not since our relationship had heated up. She lived on the seventh floor of a large brownstone apartment building in a racially mixed neighborhood. His grandmother was in her early 70’s and very hard of hearing, which fit nicely into our plans. She only had one bedroom in her apartment, so we got to sleep on the foldout couch in her living room, a very small foldout couch.

I can still remember the trip to his grandmother’s in Milwaukee. Teasing him as he drove and how his dick thickened when I rubbed it through his blue jeans, a wet spot forming on the left side of his fly. Stopping at the small party store to by a Playboy and a bottle of Cornhusker’s Lotion (the big black woman running the store winking at me when I nervously made my purchase.) Motown tunes and Hot Times/Summer in the City playing on the AM radio. Driving several blocks out of our way to watch the streetwalkers strut their stuff.

We’d only been at his grandmother’s for about an hour when she asked us to go and get some boxes from her storage area. The brownstone’s basement had been divided into individual storage areas, really just cages made of wood frames and chicken wire, with padlocked latches that passed for security. Once thing led to another (“Tease me will you… I’m not waiting until tonight. You’re going to get me off right now.) and I found myself down on my knees over in a corner of the storeroom with a mouthful of cock. We thought the boxes would keep anyone from seeing us. We were wrong. “Now ain’t this just a pretty sight?” a deep voice boomed out. “That boy there look’s like he sucks cock better than my wife or my girl friend. I just gotta get me some a that.”

I started to get up as a big hand applied pressure to my shoulder. “Uh uh, you’re ain’t going nowhere least ’til we gets this straightened out.” Looking up a saw a black man in his mid- fifties. I recognized him as a neighbor of my friend’s grandmother who knew both of us.

“Mazie asked me to give you boys a hand getting those boxes up from the basement. Now unless you want me to tell her what I saw down here, break that old woman’s heart it would, I’m going to give you a little more than a hand. I’m gonna give you about seven inches.”

We were scared and trapped. If we didn’t do what he wanted, well that wasn’t an option. We mumbled our acceptance.

“Ok,” he told my friend, “you go out by the elevator and make sure no one else comes down. Webster, you zip my pants and take out my johnson.” We did as we were told.

His dick was swelling in my hand, large but rounder and softer than my friend’s. My breath caught in my throat as I stuck my tongue out to give it a first lick. Holding the tip in my mouth I reached up with my and undid his brass belt buckle. He undid the snap of his pants and they fell to the floor around his ankles. My hand started kneading his ass while I suckled on his prick like a young puppy on his mother’s tits.

I was lost in the moment, a moment of discovery, it wasn’t just my friend’s dick I liked sucking on, it was this man’s dick too. And if I liked sucking these dicks, maybe I’d like sucking others.

I paused in my sucking to lick at his fat, hairy balls, spit washing them. They began to roll around in his sack, rising and falling with the motions of my tongue.

“Oh yeah that’s nice boy but get kaçak casino back to business. We ain’t got all day and we don’t want grandma coming down here to see what’s happening.” I licked my way back up his cock savoring the taste of his drippings. They seemed almost sweet. I played with his balls squeezing them in my hands. I choked as his cock hit the back of my throat. He withdrew a little. “Come on Web. Time’s a wasting. I’m gettin close. Start suckin for all you worth.”

I tightened my lips and began bobbing my head up and down as fast as I could on his dick, trying to go a little closer to his crotch with every store, determined to bury my nose in those curly black public hairs. I laid my tongue flat in my mouth to provide his rod with deeper access. And I worried, worried that the softness of his cock meant that he would never come, that like my friend when his cock was only semi-hard he had had too much to drink and that all my efforts would be without a cocksucker’s reward, that mouthful of man juice.

Suddenly he stretched upwards standing on his tiptoes. My lips would have lost their seal on his cock if he hadn’t grabbed the sides of my head with his hands and guided me upwards with him.

His cock pulsed, I could actually feel the sperm shooting down the cock vein resting on the top of my tongue before it oozed out of the tip, a slower ejaculation than I was used to.

Taking my mouth off his shrinking cock, I turned my head and began to spit only to be stopped by his hand grabbing my hair and yanking my head up and backwards.

“Web, you probably ain’t sucked many men’s cocks. So let me give you a little lesson in manners. I had to teach this to my wife and some of my girlfriends and if you’re going suck cocks you better know it too,” he said staring down into my eyes. “Don’t you ever spit out a man’s offerings, that’s disrespectful. If a man fills your mouth you swallow and then you thanks him and you axs for more. You got that?”

His hand loosened its grip enough for me to nod my agreement. “Good boy. Now open your mouth and let me see you swallow. I want to watch my sperm slide down your tongue and into your throat.”

It was hard to swallow with my mouth opened but I did as he commanded watching him smile as my throat worked his gift down to my stomach. For the first time in my life, I was not only a cocksucker; I was now a cumeater as well.

The Arrangement — Chapter Three

As I pulled his pants back up his legs (he wasn’t wearing any underwear) my chocolate conqueror released his grip on my head, playfully ruffling my hair with his big meaty hand as he did so. “Now that was nice, Web. You’ve got a sweet mouth on you and you took to my dick like a hog to a trough. How’d you like swallowing my cum?”

Wordlessly, I answered by allowing his pants to drop back to the floor and wrapping my left hand tight around the base of his now flaccid cock. Slowly I moved my hand up toward the tip of his coffee-colored serpent like a boy trying to squeeze the last dollop of toothpaste out of the tube, forcing his sperm onto my extended tongue. After a final lick to capture the single glistening drop hanging from his slit, I stood up and, mouth open, swallowed his offering as though it were nectar from the gods.

A peal of laughter as loud and sudden as a burst of thunder escaped from his lips. “Boy, you are sumptin else. We’re damn sure going to have some good times. Now get the stuff out of those boxes while I go and talk to your friend.”

The coming of evening lagged as slowly as a child being sent to the principal’s office. Once we had returned to his grandmother’s apartment, my friend and I were only alone for a few minutes, never long enough for any real conversation about what had happened in the basement. We had to content ourselves with exchanging glances over the Chinese Checkers board. As the time went by, I began to question my actions in the basement. Regret warred with satisfaction. Why didn’t I just get up and run? Why did I let him make me suck him? Why did I swallow? And why the hell did in milk him like I did? Being afraid would account for most of what I did in the basement but not that last. He was done. He’d come. All I had to do was give him a yes or no answer. But I hadn’t at least not verbally. So why did I do it, what did it mean? These questions kept running through my head like a gerbil on an exercise wheel.

Finally his grandmother decided to call it a night and, with an admonition not to stay up too late watching the late night horror movies on a local TV channel, went off to her bedroom shutting the door tight behind her. Even after what had happened in the basement we knew we didn’t have to worry about his grandmother catching us. She took a sleeping pill every night that knocked her out until morning.

“Hey Web, I’m sorry man,” my friend said as we pulled the sofa bed out from the living room couch, his voice pitched soft in apology. “I never thought we’d get caught. I’ve been down in that basement dozens of times to get stuff and no one ever comes down there. I meant what I said when we started that no one else would know about us. I sure wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

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