Disclaimer/Warnings: Grand Theft Auto and its characters featured in this work of fiction are of Rockstar's creation; the depictions of smut and witty titles are mine. There's gay sex abound with some depictions of hetero lovin', watersports is included.
Author's Note: Almost a year ago I started writing this fic as a present for a friend and her desire of raunchy gay sex, however life and lack of inspiration got in the way and this story had to be put on hold for quite some time. I had planned for the beginning to be more expansive but time is limited and the story's already small relevance grows smaller. Even though this is basically just a long PWP I'd like to think that I incorporated enough of the satirical attitude and elements of the game to make it seem like something more.
Enjoy!
The sticky laminate floor was covered in a sea of perverse imagery; scenes of various orifices penetrated by gargantuan cocks in all their glossy glory. Michael could scarcely make out the shitty geometric patterns of the cheap flooring there was so many magazines strewn about the tiny room. His own member gave a half-hearted twitch of excitement just from the sheer immersion of this time honored form of pornography. His gaze never focused on one particular photo alone, looking at a close up of a perfectly pink pussy one second then feasting upon the sight of two men double stuffing a Latino woman's shapely ass then shifting gears completely by viewing a skinny blonde girl pleasuring herself with a cucumber and a toothbrush. In seconds he'd maintain an eager semi-hard erection.
Trevor's heavy work boots announced his return to the sad excuse for an open concept kitchen and living room, "Well if the reading material doesn't get you going I have some very artsy movies that'll titillate you!"
He threw a cardboard box onto the floor on top of the magazines, it was filled to the brim with DVDs of sorts.
Michael briefly glanced at the titles on the spines that were face up, "Everything Anal Vol. 2... Hey Hubby Let's Have an Orgy... The Deflowering of Candy Masterson... Invasion of the Cockmonsters... These are some real classics you got here, T."
"Yeah I've got quite a collection! Keep digging and you'll find a wealth of gems in there!"
Michael picked up the first row, carefully pulling out Candy Masterson's first foray into the world of pornography from the top, and began pawing through the depths of Trevor's porn stash. His hand fished out as many DVDs as it could grasp from the second layer; eyeballing the spines once more. Dude Where's My Boyfriend?, The Life of a Twink, Let Me Suck Your Dick Bro 4, Jizz Lovers Anonymous, Recruiting Your Dad XIII: The Revenge Conversion.
He felt a twinge of discomfort upon realizing that most of them were homoerotic films.
Sex between two men was a subject Michael hadn't thought about in a long time. Sure living in Los Santos had given him many run-ins with the gay community considering it rivaled San Francisco's in size, and he didn't necessarily have a problem with it, but it wasn't normal for him as an individual. There was simply no room for such a complicated lifestyle in his already complicated life. After all his only experience with the matter was the handful of affairs he'd had with Trevor all those years ago, well that and a black drag queen he'd picked up off the street during the first week he'd moved to the city and it was more of a mistake at first (he had made a very convincing woman and a spat with Amanda had driven him to the point where he didn't care in that moment). Then again Trevor was a mistake too, but a more unhinged, deranged one that he kept returning to during their previous partnership. Otherwise Michael de Santa was strictly a heterosexual man who fancied his wife and the occasional hooker that was more than happy to pick up where Mrs. De Santa left off, even though he wanted desperately to try and be a better husband in that regard.
It just hadn't happened yet, but he promised himself that once this shit with the FIB and Martin Madrazo was finished he'd do his best to be the ideal husband.
Trevor seemed to pick up on his hesitation, "Something catch your eye, Mikey?"
Michael immediately set the gay movies down beside the box, "No, not particularly, T."
In the midst of the silence that followed his response, Michael could almost feel Trevor's perverted smile washing over him like a repulsive, cold wave even as he was leaning against the door frame of the little bathroom on the other side of the room. It was almost as if he'd walked into a trap. Second long memories of their forgotten liaisons surfaced, and so did the guilt that went along with them.
Desperate to change the subject, Michael began digging further into the box while hoping that there would be no other erotic films which featured homosexual content. Now that he was in fear of the second layer, he pulled all those movies and set them aside without even glancing at the covers. When he was finished he glanced down into the last layer of the box, scarcely able to make out the titles on the bindings of the DVDs cases; so he began grabbing at them to examine them more closely.
"Wha...? I Fucked My Mom Vol. 3... Grannies Gone Wild... My Man Loves the Strap-On... Night at the Leatherbar..."
Trevor perked up, "Oh looks like you found the special interest section."
Michael looked at the last one in his hand; it was without a professional cover and in its place was a photocopied picture of a homely woman standing naked next to a brown and white Clydesdale in a barn, "Betty and the Beast...? You're a sick fiend you know that, Trevor."
He shrugged, "What? It's for my associate, Ron."
"Uh huh. You got videos of people fucking dead bodies in here too or is that in another box?"
Trevor growled and pulled away from his position against the wall, "Hey I resent that accusation! Unlike selfish fucks like you I have respect for the dead!"
Michael scoffed, "Yeah, yeah I'm sure you're just a widow in mourning."
"I fucking mourned you, didn't I?", Trevor's slammed his fist against the wall, again shouting, "Didn't I?! What do you think I felt as I watched your coffin getting buried six inches deep thinking your fat-fuck of a corpse was in it?!"
Instantly regretting the effect his sarcastic comment had on his former best friend; now was not the time to be getting tied up in another argument over the past.
Michael sighed and lightened his tone, "Hey calm down. You're gonna scare Madrazo's wife. Look, I'm sorry I said that. Let's just sit back, have a cold one and enjoy a dirty movie, alright?"
Trevor glared at him for a moment, as if he were contemplating his words. His expression softened just a little, "Fine. I accept your apology and the fact that you're an asshole."
"Yeah I'll admit it I'm an asshole.", were Michael's words of closing the subject and hopefully turning the energy between them into something less volatile, even if stability was an extremely rare thing with a man like Trevor Philips.
"What's that? Did Michael 'De Santa' just have a moment of honesty and humility? Looks like getting you away from your fruity lifestyle in bullshit central might actually save you after all!"
Normally he'd be able to brush off such quips from the crazed drug dealing psychopath, but now the mention of his lavish life hit a nerve due to the fact that he no longer had it at the moment. Michael briefly narrowed his eyes, "It's like I told you before – I like my 'fruity lifestyle in bullshit central'. It works for me. Now are you gonna put in the movie or what?"
Trevor mocked him with a posh British accent, "As you wish my good man!"
Michael returned the sarcasm, "Oh ha-ha! That's real cute, T. Did you pick that up from watching those wholesome Victorian dramas on TV?"
He watched Trevor go to grab the Candy Masterson flick from his hand but he paused, "Actually I met this really weird cou–", he stopped himself in mid-sentence; swiping at the air as if he were physically pushing away the thought, "Ah nevermind I don't wanna bore you with the details."
He grabbed the DVD and put it in a large silver DVD player that was perched precariously on the edge of an old and simple entertainment system in the right corner of the trailer; a small equally-silver flatscreen television sat upon a shelf just above it. He seemed to be having difficulty getting it to work as it began making loud grinding sounds when it tried spinning the disc. The machine did seem rather poorly-made, probably one of the first generations of the now widely used video disc players.
"C'mon work you piece of shit!", he growled as he hammered on the metal box.
Michael debated about giving him a hard time about his current predicament, but decided to roll his eyes and stay quiet while he tried fixing the DVD player. If nothing else the thought of Trevor Philips trying to work in a mainstream electronics store was amusing enough. After a few more curses and a small series of hits on the boxy device the grinding sound stopped and the TV screen flickered for a few seconds as it began to receive playback.
Fading in from black, the image of the renowned Candy Masterson covering her naked body with a pink blanket while sitting on a bed appeared as well as menu options underneath her; visually announcing that Trevor had been fully successful in his endeavors and that it was time for him to mash the 'play' button on the front of the DVD player. Once the porno started playing he got up and grabbed two Pißwasser beers from a labeled cardboard box on table in the kitchen portion of the trailer. He then made his way back to the couch, tossing one of the bottles to Michael before sitting on the other side of it. Michael was thankful for the distance between their bodies, even if the small sofa didn't allow for a lot of space between them.
After a few sips of his beer Michael began to feel more relaxed as he sat back and took in the imagine of Ms. Masterson relaxing in her bed; casually shifting her delicate limbs between the hot pink sheets. It seemed to suggest that she was just waking up, though her unblemished make up and perfectly styled hair was contradicting this fact. Her bubbly voice was full of overdone lust as she told herself, "Oh it's been so long since I've felt anything down there..."
Some exotic world music started playing in the background as she pulled the covers away from her body, revealing her silicon monstrosities. Candy's hand caressed them for a moment as she played with her own nipples and scrunching them together with the crook of her arm before snaking down her gym-hardened beach body even further to tease her shaved nether region; her fingers slowly toying with the outer folds and running the tip of her middle finger over her clitoris in a circular motion.
By this time Michael was petting the crotch of his own pants and he was almost finished with the first bottle of beer. He looked towards Trevor, who already had his cock out, seeing if he'd give him another. Though his eyes immediately shifted away from the sight and he simply said, "Hey can you pass me another beer?"
Trevor nodded absentmindedly, "Yeah sure..."
He reached over to the box and pulled out another Pißwasser with his free hand and held it out to Michael, keeping the other at the base of his member.
Michael grabbed it as quick as he could without making it seem as though he were disturbed by the fact that he narrowly escaped contact with Trevor's cock-tainted hand. He began to feel embarrassed by his own apprehension. He knew he didn't want to piss off his psychotic "best friend".
"Why am I so jumpy? It's not like we haven't..."
He shifted himself in his seat; forcing himself out of that train of thought. To him it wasn't a big deal so there was no point in dwelling on it. He just had to keep himself alive until he could find a way to fix the situation and get back to his family. When he collected himself internally he turned his attention back to the TV.
By now Candy was actively fingering herself as she spoke to the neighborhood stud that lived next door on her cellphone (albeit a slightly older flip-style one) and was thoroughly engaging him with her moaning.
Michael's cock was throbbing with need; making him forget all about the awkwardness of the past and simply whip it out of his pants. He slouched a little in his seat as he let his body relax more, half-heartedly playing with himself as he continued to watch the porno; with Trevor on the other side of the filthy sofa doing the same.
An hour passed by, and by this time Candy Masterson was in the middle of being fucked by the neighbor on her kitchen table after she invited him over, and Michael and Trevor had knocked back a few beers. At this point Michael was more than a little buzzed, he was already basking in the sublime feeling of alcohol coursing through his bloodstream and blissfully hazing his senses. Even for cheap booze it seemed to be doing the trick. Trevor appeared to be in the same state as he gave a few slurred comments about the dirty movie here and there. Other than that they remained focused on the visual stimuli playing on the television and did not break their focus except for a few seconds to pop off the top of another cold one.
As Michael watched the buxom blonde gag on the humongous cock before her as she attempted to suck off her friendly neighbor; seeing those lip-gloss smeared lips struggling to fit around the gigantic member made him crave a good blowjob himself. Though it was a bit of a sore subject as well, ever since Amanda had gotten out of the stripping business she'd become less inclined to do such things in the bedroom during their marriage; or at least she wouldn't do it to Michael, but any fairly attractive tennis coach or yoga instructor might be able to get such favors. His hand picked up the pace as Candy's lips started moving faster up and down her co-star's dick; his legs spread out over the couch more, until his left knee gently brushed against Trevor's. If he wasn't so horny and drunk he'd have realized it almost immediately, but those two factors let his leg linger against the other man's. It wasn't until Trevor's knee rubbed against his a little harder that Michael noticed what happened.
"Oh sorry...", He said as he severed the contact by pulling his leg away.
Trevor gave him a wink, "Feelin' a little lonely, sailor?"
The drunkeness seeped in Michael's nervous laugh as he replied, "Nah, T. Just gettin' a little too comfortable that's all."
"Well as I recall you got too comfortable a lot back in the day..."
Michael said nothing in response, merely trying to focus on the TV in hopes that the subject would be forgotten over the sound of slurping and moaning playing out through the speakers.
Trevor wasn't going to let go, even in his own booze riddled state, "You... You remember don'tcha? How it all started..."
He silently swallowed his humiliation at Trevor's ignition of the past, and it was somehow disturbing how he'd failed to realize how much their current situation reflected their sexual encounters of years ago. Had his brain been in a more sober state of mind he'd have been irritated and paranoid with wondering if this whole thing had been the other man's intentions the entire time. However, his intoxication merely resulted in a sullen nod as he began to let the memories he'd tried to keep under wraps take over for a moment.
Yes it was true, he remembered how things between them started, not that he'd thought about it for a long time but he was now.
It was around their fourth successful stunt that their partnership had taken a rather weird and unexpected turn. They had done the job alone, of course, considering it was a small bank robbery that had simply fallen into their laps as they were traveling through a lonely street in Topica, Kansas while they were on their way to something bigger and better in Salt Lake City. People like Brad and Lester wouldn't come into the picture until a few more years down the line, and North Yankton and Amanda would be further down that path. Even with a destination in mind they still wandered where they pleased; Michael couldn't deny how free he was back then. Perhaps that was one of the things that sparked the strange affair between him and Trevor, the sense of unchecked freedom and unparalleled excitement, even if Trevor's insane antics did bring about a lot of trouble along for the ride as well. Michael's youth had accepted it and secretly enjoyed it. After they'd hit the bank they escaped to a cheap motel just outside of town. When Michael felt it was safe he dozed off on the bed, warning Trevor not to go out for anything, of course he didn't listen to him and the man disappeared for about an hour. He returned with some beer and a VHS tape. Michael yelled at him as he walked back in but Trevor just said he needed something to celebrate their little victory and popped the tape into the VCR. He tossed Michael a beer just like he did a short while ago and laid back on his own bed that was beside Michael's.
Michael recalled 70's funk music playing on the tiny boxy TV set as the title, Big Booty Bernice Gets It, came swirling in gold letters on the screen. It was an interracial flick that had garnered some popularity for its back-then forbidden depiction of ebony and ivory love. It didn't even have an actual dialogue track, just the iconic music to set the mood for the viewers.
By the time Big Booty Bernice was letting a white boy get up on the soul train Michael had forgotten he was pissed at Trevor; he'd become so entranced by the movie he simply sat up and started jerking off at the edge of the bed. He didn't remember when but at some point Trevor did the same thing on his own bed, but likewise he didn't pay any attention to Michael. They just kept watching the movie for some time, every once in awhile saying something trivial to each other like, "Yeah I'd like to fuck her ass!" or "I sure could make a vanilla swirl in that pussy!"
Then it all changed. Despite the fact that they were in two beds, there was a very small aisle between the two furnishings due to the tight confines of the little room, and it didn't help that Trevor was doing the same thing he was. When Michael became over-eager in his need for sexual gratification; wanting something to fuck besides his hand, his legs spread out over the length of the small bed and his knee ended up brushing against Trevor's knee. Embarrassed, Michael jerked his leg away and coughed as if that would do something to break up the sudden awkwardness in the room. Yet he felt Trevor's gaze on him, and he returned it. Michael hadn't the faintest idea of what to do otherwise at the time. All he could do was stare as Trevor looked him up and down for a moment. Then Michael remembered that smile Trevor gave him, one full of devil-may-care-sex-starved-depraviation. Somehow it had turned Michael on, and never before had a man ever done anything that could possibly get him hard. The subconscious realization alone had Michael hooked.
"Hey Mike...You uh...ever let a guy blow you?"
Michael didn't respond, he simply took his hand off his cock and leaned back with his palms flat on the sheets. Trevor had been on his knees at the foot of the bed in less than a second. At the time he didn't look at Trevor, he'd been too scared to even in his curiousness; he did his best to keep his eyes on the screen as he felt Trevor's lips take over the head of his cock before sliding downward to engulf him in a sea of wet warmth, then the glorious sensation of his best friend's head bobbing up and down.
It felt so good that Michael blurted out something like, "Oh yeah suck it!" before the image of Big Booty Bernice giving that white boy head was overtaken by a view of the popcorn ceiling of the room as he laid on his back. He closed his eyes as he put his hand on the back of Trevor's skull, not that he needed to put it there to guide him, it had been mere instinct. It was when the feeling of Trevor's mouth leaving his dick for a brief moment that he'd been able to pull himself up enough to look down at Trevor; the fear and nervousness gone, he could look straight into those crazed and strung out eyes. He felt Trevor's hot breath as he licked up and down his shaft; then smacking the tip of it off of his tongue. Michael saw how Trevor wanted it, how much he liked it; there was no forced lust or poorly concealed apathy like some of the women he'd been with. Just watching the trail of saliva and pre-cum slipping down his chin was enough to make him want to slide his cock back into his mouth. From that point he just fucked Trevor's mouth without any hesitation or embarrassment of what was going on. He even liked the way Trevor gagged a little but didn't resist. It hadn't taken long for Michael to reach his climax; he came in Trevor's mouth without warning, but on the contrary, his best friend seemed to like it as he didn't let one drop of cum escape the cage of his mouth, swallowing it like whiskey.
Their first sexual experience together ended almost immediately after that with Trevor standing up and jerking off; letting his own cum splatter on the pea soup green carpeting. Trevor had said something, but Michael couldn't recall what it was because he tried to tune him out. When his physical needs had been met, the emotional awkwardness and shame returned. He simply turned away to face the doorway to the tiny bathroom and fell asleep.
Even then it had been one of the best blowjobs of his life, and that incident had been the gateway to other escapades. Of course it had taken some weeks before Michael would get the nerve to let something like that happen between them again as he told himself it was strictly a one-time thing, and then oral sex with Trevor pleasuring him was something that was a guilty high that they did every so often, but eventually it got to the point where he'd be fooling around with Trevor even after he'd had his way with women in some restroom of a bar or a diner, even fucking him over the very tables they were planning heists on.
They were wild times to be sure, but Amanda and the "death" of him obviously had to put all that to an end; and with the exception of his short-lived stint with the drag queen he hadn't even thought of those incidents in a long time. He'd blissfully buried them amongst all the mid-life crisis and family feuds he'd endured ever since he became Michael de Santa.
The sudden rekindling of these memories made him feel that same guilt and humiliation he felt after their first encounter.
Trevor's voice cut into his thoughts, slurring, "Hey Mikey... You lisinin' to me? I asked you a question..."
Michael was afraid if he denied it it would set him off again, but then he chastised himself for being embarrassed in the first place. It's not like there was anyone around to hear them, as Mrs. Madrazo was in Trevor's bedroom sleeping. Who cared if he had done some heavy experimentation in his youth?
"Yeah... Those were pretty wild times right, T?"
Trevor leaned in just a little closer, "You...ever miss them?"
"Sometimes...", Michael replied, trying to keep his calm gaze on the TV screen. His drunkeness caused him to have a suggestive tone in his voice, but he quickly added in a less inviting manner, "But you know all that's behind us. That'd be just...just crazy now, right?"
He felt Trevor's hand creeping up his leg, "You know crazy is what I'm all about!"
Michael laughed a little, "Hey, hey stop that! Don't be gettin' handsey on me now!"
His hand moved a little further, "Oh what? You scared now? Big city life made you chicken shit?"
"No I'm just...just not drunk enough for that..."
"You didn't always need to be drunk."
Unfortunately that was all too true as well; there were enough memories to prove that without a shadow of a doubt. As the seconds passed his cock was beginning to make him care less and less about whether or not this was some kind of weird set up on Trevor's part and what might be constituted as gay and straight and whatever else; much less the morality of the situation. Sure, a small part of him thought about telling Trevor he was tired and needed to sleep just to evade the situation in order to be true to Amanda, but he was a man with needs – needs that generally got the better of him in these types of predicaments. Yet if he didn't satisfy them now, perhaps they might get in the way of him getting back to his wife; and after all, getting a few favors from Trevor wasn't as bad as getting them from some hooker he picked up off the street, was it?
Those were the thoughts that spiraled for a moment in his head, but his genitals and the booze had certainly cleared up any guilt he'd previously felt and turned it into a confident acceptance. One little visitation to the past wasn't going to make much of a difference in his efforts to become a better man at this point.
Michael cleared his throat, "Well maybe not...but I'm drunk enough now..."
He made a slight gesture with his hand as he stopped playing with himself; giving Trevor the go ahead to pick up where they left off so long ago, though Trevor didn't need any further goading to take advantage of the opportunity. Sprawling over the length of the plaid sofa he quickly had his mouth on Michael's dick in an instant, who nearly melted into his seat as his member finally experienced the thrilling act of oral sex once again.
It felt like it had been an eternity, although in reality it had been merely a few weeks since his last "relapse" with a Latina prostitute in the car parking lot of the golf course. He'd hit a quadruple bogey on a few holes and needed something to lift his spirits again. He figured getting something in a hole of a different kind would do the trick.
For a brief moment Michael let all the thoughts clear from his mind as he enjoyed the simple act of getting head; in what had seemed to be an eternity he finally had the hamster off the treadmill of worry. He didn't even contemplate the idea of yoga failing to do this for him considering Amanda forced it on him so much. He leaned back as Trevor continued to work his magic, letting out a slight sigh as he watched him through half-closed eyes.
Suddenly Trevor stopped; something caught his attention. Michael realized the cheap ambiance of the porno was no more, apparently it had ended in the midst of it all.
"Hold on there, Cowboy... I'll put somethin' else in to keep the mood going...", Trevor said as he staggered toward the stack of dirty movies scattered across the floor.
"Just don't put anything weird in, alright?"
He scooped a DVD off the floor, briefly glanced at the cover and shouted, "Ah you're gonna love this one, Mikey! It's got some of the local yokels in it!"
If Michael the slight stupor didn't have a hold on his brain he probably would have immediately protested at the thought of watching some meth-crazed hicks doing the nasty, but he was now too horny and too drunk to care, "Okay, T..."
Upon shoving the disc into the player, Trevor immediately returned to the couch.
Abruptly a shaky and rather grainy image began bouncing on the screen, it was a man's bare chest; everything else was obscured by it. Dirty, calloused hands moved back and forth in front of the lens; setting up the camera to film whatever depravity was about to happen. After a moment the man stopped and turned away to reveal more of the scene. There were a row of bar-stools set against a sad excuse for a bar; obviously some local waterhole. Only a rather large woman was sitting on one of the stools, clad in a skimpy leather outfit that was a tad too small for her size, but she seemed to squeeze herself into it well. She ran her plump sausage fingers through her jet black-bobbed hair, and then made a domineering gesture to the man that was fiddling with the camera afterward. He kneeled before her in nothing but his underwear with his back to the camera; sweat dribbling down from the back of his stereotypical mullet.
"Cletus, are you prepared to become a slave of pleasure?", the woman asked sternly through a strong Southern accent.
The man responded in an equally Southern accent, "I'm sure shootin' I am, Maude!"
Without warning the large woman grabbed something off the bar and smacked him with it.
"That is Madame Maude to you, scum!", she hissed.
Cletus, the newly declared slave of pleasure, winced in pain before saying, "Yes ma'am! I'm mud underneath yer boots, Madame Maude!"
"Yer right about that! Now get over there and put yer ass up, you roadkill lovin' fool!"
Cletus did as he was told by scurrying on all fours to the spot she pointed at, making it so all of him was in focus for the camera lens. He had a smile on his face despite the gruesome circumstance. Within a moment Madame Maude pulled his underwear and starting beating his exposed ass with a paddle.
"Hell yes! Tan my lily hide red, Madame!", Cletus yelled as she flogged him.
By this point, Michael was almost regretting that he didn't explain what 'weird' was to Trevor, and yet he almost couldn't look away from the strange sight. It seemed Trevor had no problems with the display before them as he had been stroking both he and himself while he watched, treating it like he did the Candy Masterson flick. By the time Cletus the slave had been spanked and spat on and forced to eat Madame Maude's muff he almost felt strangely turned on himself, though he wasn't sure how much the copious amounts of booze had to play in that. Eventually Trevor would return to blowing him but it didn't take long for Michael's balls to tighten, eager for that special release. Trevor seemed to sense this as he stopped sucking him, leaving a small chain of saliva to connect between his now well-used lips and the tip of Michael's cock for a moment.
"Hey Mikey...you wanna really re-live the old days?"
Michael knew what he meant, he wanted to take things further. That certainly made his cock twitch with anticipation. Anal sex was something that was higher on Amanda's list of "no's" than oral was, and the half-hearted birthday sex wasn't as stimulating as someone who was actually interested. He briefly glanced at the TV screen, Madame Maude was sizing up the purple knotted dildo she held in her hands before anally assaulting her redneck love slave with it. He watched with disgusted curiosity as the dildo stretched the squealing man's ass. He remembered Trevor's ass looking a lot nicer in their youth, and it had felt amazing.
He nodded, "Fuck yeah!"
Trevor seemed beyond eager as he sat up and got off the couch and stumbled a little from his inebriation before kneeling in front of it, "I knew ya couldn't resist! I wanna feel you pound me right into this fuckin' sofa!"
"Careful. I might just do that. I haven't uh...you know...in awhile...", Michael said as he fumbled to stand up as well.
"Jesus, Michael! No wonder you're a fuckin' mess! You gotta satisfy those urges, buddy! I never...never repress myself... It messes with your mind!"
Michael laughed as he nearly fell over, "Ha ha! You...you don't think our heads are already messed with from all the Pißwasser?"
He saw Trevor shake his head, "Nah! That helps you let go of all the bullshit! Now let's see if we can get you back to back to alpha male status. Come on let's fuck!"
"Okay, okay."
When Townley finally found the ability to stand upright without falling backwards he managed to find his way behind Trevor and got on his knees so that his crotch was level with the other man's ass. Despite the small span of time without any physical stimulation Michael was still hard; his cock created a loud smacking sound as he bounced it off Trevor's lower back just above the curves of his cheeks. He was amazed to see Trevor's hindquarters were still pretty toned even after the years and whatever whacked out stunts he'd put his body through. Simply looking at it made Michael want nothing else than to ram his cock into the other man until it disappeared into him entirely.
Just when he was about to slide the tip in, Trevor stopped him with his hand, "Wait, wait, wait... I got somethin' to make this moment extra special."
He started pawing around in the offsetting light-and-dark of the TV lit room, "Where the fuck is my Union Jack?"
"Your wha?"
Trevor didn't answer him; instead he continued feeling around the couch until his arm slide under it and pulled an unmarked brown bottle from its hiding place.
He unscrewed the black lid and closed one nostril before holding the rim of the open bottle over his nose as he inhaled. He switched sides and proceeded to do the same thing, afterwards he held the bottle slightly over his shoulder towards Michael; offering it to him, "You want some? It'll make you feel like fucking that much more!"
The niche drugs...
"No thanks. A few weeks of celibacy and a worn out hand is more than I need."
"Suit yourself.", Trevor put the bottle away and breathed in deep, "Oh I believe I'm good and ready now!"
Again Michael slapped his cock against Trevor's skin, "Yeah?"
He felt the other man draw his body backwards slightly to show his eagerness, "Yeah! Fuck me, Michael!"
Again he teased him, "Yeah?"
And again Trevor tried to raise his backside even higher in the air, "Come on, Michael! Fuck my ass! I've been wanting it for a long time!"
He smiled and licked his lips, "Heh. Guess I'm not the only one who's been holding off..."
"Dammit Michael if you're gonna degrade me then at least do it while you're fucking me!"
The growl in Trevor's voice was enough to set him off, it reminded of that heat in the moments between them from before; that unbridled insanity. He couldn't tease Trevor any longer even if he wanted to, his own needs were screaming to be met. Working up a glob of saliva from the back of his throat, Michael tilted his head downward, letting the spit land on his cock for what little lubrication it could provide. Though his sober mind would have probably picked up on the notion that Trevor would be enough of a fiend to have a bottle of lube stashed somewhere in the trailer, his drunken mind was too horny to care; and it was obvious that he and Trevor were seeking that necessary roughness. After running his fingers over his shaft to make sure the spit was evenly distributed over his length, Michael forced the tip of it inside Trevor.
Both men let out their own respective grunts; their jaws tightening as Michael pressed further in.
At the moment Michael was almost ready to come right then and there; it had been so long since he felt that constricting warmth around his dick no matter how merciless it was, the gratification of being inside another human being. All this coupled by the twisted history and relationship he had with the man. He was amazed to find just how virgin-like Trevor was even after all this time. Even back then the man had always maintained himself in that regard.
"Fuck that's tight…"
His eyes squinted shut as he felt the other man's body slowly adjusting to his girth, leaving him to only listen to his response, "Yeah just think how tight I'd be if I didn't use my special nitrates!"
Trevor's comment almost made him curious as to what he'd sniffed earlier, but he was more curious about another mystery, "You been savin' yourself for me, Trevor?"
He craned his head to the left, his eyes in an angered haze as he looked over his shoulder, "Don't flatter yourself, asshole. I'm just...not typically on the receiving end. I've been with plenty of men."
Michael returned his stare with interest, "Oh I'm definitely flattered by that. I'm the only one you want to take it from."
Trevor gasped briefly as he tried to retort in the middle of one of Michael's thrusts, "I...ugh… Just… Fuck you, Michael. It's only because you're a manipulative fat slob."
"Yeah but those other guys weren't, were they? They weren't good enough so you just had to get your kicks by doing what little you could to a bunch of different guys."
The meth head growled, "If you're gonna call me a whore then just call me a whore!"
Michael brought his mouth close to Trevor's ear, "Whore…"
After he made the insult, he slammed his body hard against Trevor's; leaving the now submissive man to groan and yell out, "Punish me!"
He paused, "You want me to punish you?"
"Yes you selfish prick! I want you to make me feel lower than dirt!"
Michael's cock practically twitched in excitement inside of Trevor, in the past there had been moments where sex was a little more than passionate between them, but Trevor's insanity hadn't quite accumulated enough back then to ask for something this weird from him. Michael wasn't even sure he'd be into it otherwise, but something about this particular moment had him going. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the off-the-wall pornography, maybe it was just his complicated connection with the man. Either way he knew if he didn't give Trevor what he wanted he might have another meltdown, and on the other hand he felt he needed to deal a little pain for all the trouble the maniac had brought into his life by forcing his way back into it.
"Just remember you asked for it, cocksucker.", he said.
He gave another merciless thrust, even harder than the last one. Trevor moaned again, his mouth hanging open long enough for him to reach for his throat with one hand and use the other one to shove two fingers inside it; feeling the wet heat of it on them.
"Now all your holes are stuffed… Just the way you like it, huh?"
He heard Trevor give a stifled moan of approval over the still-sickening ambiance of the porno in the background.
Michael began fucking him in earnest while pushing his fingers in and out of his mouth in phallitic simulation. He felt Trevor's lips purse around them like they had when he had been sucking him off, and somehow it felt almost as enjoyable. He kept his movements in unison as best as he could in his inebriated state. Every so often he'd tighten his grip on Trevor's throat, making sure his fingers clenched enough to hinder his breathing on top of his invasive fingering. It seemed that he was finally meeting Trevor's demand for abuse as his moaning escalated; the sound hovering between hurt and ecstasy. Despite this, he could only withstand so much before Michael heard him gagging and his body beginning to shake. He let go and pulled his fingers out; letting the man cough and recover from the brutality, sending streams of saliva dribbling down his chin.
Through staggered breath Trevor goaded him on, "Keep...going…"
"You want more? I'll give you more, you twisted fuck!"
He smacked his ass once, making sure it left a red mark before driving himself into him further. This became Michael's new method of mistreatment for a few minutes; spanking him hard after every other thrust or so.
Trevor turned his head, "Oh god I want you to play with my tits too!"
"Yeah? Like this?"
Michael slid his non-offending hand up Trevor's chest until he found one of fleshy nubs; squeezing it between his finger and his thumb until it was fully hard to the touch. He then turned to twisting it as he continued fucking Trevor.
"Oh yeah just like that!"
Within moments Michael could feel the heat of his aggression underneath his fingers, and was almost sure that his nipple would be sufficiently ill-treated. He immediately ran his hand over to the other one to do the same thing; brushing the patch of dark chest hair that lay in the space between them as he went along, never forgetting to give one of Trevor's ass cheeks a good smack as he went on.
He was so caught up in the debauchery of it all that he barely acknowledged that his hand was as red and swollen as Trevor's buttocks from beating him so much. Trevor had kept his grunting and declarations of "Good Lord above!" and "Yeah! Beat my ass!" to a minimum, but by this point he'd become much louder and his grunts had turned to outright cries of pain. It culminated in one last slap from Michael's hand and made Trevor exclaim, "Oh fuck!" at the top of his lungs.
Quickly Michael put his hand over Trevor's mouth to cease whatever else he might yell out. He growled, "Easy now. We don't wanna wake Mrs. Madrazo."
He felt air from Trevor's nostrils pass over his fingers as he was breathing in deep through his nose; still recovering from the assault. He heard Trevor give a muffled, "Uh huh."
A second passed by and suddenly Trevor pulled his hand away from his mouth and pointed toward a stack of small cardboard boxes stacked near the bathroom doorway just a few feet from the couch, "There's some duct tape in there!"
Reluctantly Michael withdrew from the tight warmth of Trevor's ass; nearly falling over as he tried to stand up on his feet. His cock bobbed freely in the open air as he drunkenly stumbled toward the old brown boxes. He pulled at the box on top, pushing the flaps away to see the contents inside it – a dirty rag, a long hunting knife, a police badge, an empty gun holster, a black magic marker, and the roll of duct tape he was seeking. Though the rag appeared to have splotches of what appeared to be blood on it, Michael didn't bother to ask, but the magic marker gave him an idea. He plucked the black marker and the tape from the bottom of the cardboard box and walked back over to Trevor who was waiting eagerly for things to continue.
After tearing off a decent sized strip of tape from the roll, Michael grabbed the other man by his jaw with one hand and applied the tape with other; covering his mouth completely. Once he made sure both ends of the tape where secure to Trevor's face by smoothing it out, Michael grabbed the magic marker; pulling off the cap with his teeth and spitting it out somewhere off to his left.
When he was finished struggling to write over the silver surface of the tape, the word "PSYCHO" was scrawled across it.
It seemed almost too perfect when paired with the crazed and horny look in Trevor's eye.
For a moment he thought about binding Trevor's wrists, but he liked the idea of having a man so willing that his hands didn't need to be bound; plus he was more concerned with getting his dick back inside an orifice. After lubricating himself with his own spit once more he did just that; with easier success this time now that Trevor was a little more broken in. He gave his fucktoy no time to adjust this time, rather he began bucking his hips almost as soon as he was inside him. Immediately Trevor began moaning; the tape sufficient in suppressing his cries. Michael teased him, "That's more like it. Now you know how Mrs. Madrazo feels, huh?"
He heard Trevor try to mumble something, but gave him no indication that he actually cared to know what exactly it was.
Instead Michael took the magic marker still in hand and pressed the tip hard into Trevor's back. From there he began scribbling words across his skin.
"JUNKIE"
"CUM SLUT"
"FREAK"
"COCKSMOKER"
Trevor's voice broke through his concentration on writing while drunk; he'd peeled back the duct tape from his mouth just enough to speak, "Whatcha doin' back there, Mikey?"
"Just writin' some poetry, T. Makin' sure you're labeled properly."
After writing a few other choice insults, Michael scrawled the words "Property of Michael de Santa" just above his ass. When he felt satisfied with his work, Michael grabbed his iFruit phone from the right pocket of his slacks that had been discarded on the floor beside them; having to stretch so as not to separate from Trevor. He snapped a picture of the sight before him; the phone capturing the debauchery in the light of its flash.
"Taking some photos for the memories?"
"Somethin' like that.", Michael said as he briefly stared at the bold black lines that made up the malicious words he'd chosen, though they'd be barely legible legible to the un-drunken eye; regardless it made him feel that much more superior. He tossed the black marker to the other side of the room and gave an even lighter toss with his phone to make it land on top of the pile of his clothes.
When his hands were free, Michael re-sealed the tape over Trevor's mouth, grabbed a small fistful of Trevor's short dark brown hair on the back of his head and pulled it; still mercilessly thrusting into him as he grabbed Trevor's side with his other hand.
"Jesus!", Trevor shouted through the tape; that was easily understood.
Despite his obvious distress he made no attempt to break away from his hold.
Once Michael felt comfortable in his control over Trevor, he slammed his head into the worn down cushions of the sofa. He didn't need to use much force in keeping him down, he knew Trevor wanted this, but he did so anyway. When he finally let go of him, Michael rested his hands at his sides and lustfully growled, "Show me how much you want it. Back your ass up on my cock."
Craning his head to look behind him as much as he could, Trevor spread his arms over the length of the couch and arched his back; and began impaling himself on Michael's throbbing member without hesitation. It left Michael nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the view as Trevor moved his body in a constant back and forth movement; clearly enjoying himself.
Just seeing the psychopath in this state was a pleasure all its own; his drug-binge fit body covered in a sheen of hot sweat and vulgar words, his animal musk radiating off of him like a sick-yet-captivating cologne, his stifled whimpering and mewling mixing with the sound of his plump hindquarters smacking against his thighs with nothing but the look of twisted desire in his eyes. All of this new experience was only bolstered for Michael when he realized from now and every encounter before this that filling Trevor's hole was always somehow different from anything else he'd felt; it was an excitement all its own. For all his faults Trevor did have that effect on him, and he knew he couldn't last much longer now as he felt his body rushing toward that glorious edge.
"Oh fuck…"
The tightening in his balls had become almost unbearable, and Trevor quickly sensed this; pulling himself away and turning to face him as he ripped off the duct tape without even a whimper, getting on his knees.
Not wanting to waste any time, Michael immediately stood up and loomed over the other man. Trevor looked good like that, still jerking himself off with his tongue hanging out like a thirsty dog. Likewise, Michael stroked himself to an impure nirvana within a span of a second. A single moan blasted from the back of his throat as soon as the first burst of cum spewed from the tip of his cock; landing on the dotted line of Trevor's "Cut here" tattoo on his neck. Another glob landing on the left side of his cheek. Another spattering directly on his wagging tongue. The rest were clear specks which dribbled on Trevor's neck and chin. Trevor moved forward and closed his mouth over Michael's cock in an effort to catch the last droplets of cum from it; sucking him dry.
When his eruption had finished Michael was breathing hard; feeling as though he'd ran a hard race against the socially-awkward and unhinged runner of Los Santos, Mary-Ann. His body loosened its stance as the waves of rough pleasure left his muscles slowly. Michael could do nothing but stand there in a daze as he watched the other man licking the cum off of his face, then scrapping what landed on his neck and chest with his fingers; greedily sucking on them afterward for the sake of getting every last drop.
Now that one bodily function had been satisfied in Michael, another one unexpectedly commanded his attention as his bladder was now screaming after the onslaught of many bottles of beer from earlier. He'd forgotten he'd had to pee since Trevor started the first porno. He turned toward the direction of the bathroom, "I gotta take a leak."
It was definitely an odd way to end the moment but he couldn't hold it any longer.
Before he could take another step, Trevor grabbed him by the wrist.
"I want you to piss on me!", he demanded in a hoarse tone.
Michael was left dumbstruck for a split second, "Wha? You want me to what?"
"You heard me!", Trevor said.
"Yeah but…"
"I said I wanted you to make me feel like dirt, didn't I? Just do it!"
It was certainly one of Trevor's more strange requests but if Michael didn't comply he'd probably never hear the end of it, and at this point he didn't care anymore. For some freak out there this was a special occasion after all. A part of him wondered how often Trevor asked this of his sexual partners, and how many of them received payment for being able to abuse him like this.
"At least now I'll get to be just like Lesant Diangelo in Chains of Intimacy.", Michael mused.
Though he wouldn't openly admit to reading it like some fans of the book, he had to give the infamous novel credit that it had certainly made him curious about sexual perversions like this; though he'd never actually thought of trying something this unusual. It was still lying on an endtable in his livingroom at this moment with a bookmark on the last chapter when all of this insanity broke out with Martin Madrazo and he'd been forced to hide out here in this hellhole of a trailer in the desert. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about using another human being as a urinal, but at least he could say that he tried it once regardless.
He grabbed his cock, "Alright...open wide..."
Aiming for Trevor's mouth, Michael let a small stream splash onto Trevor's chin and legs before it stopped altogether. He felt his bladder squeeze and tighten a little more and then the yellow stream of recycled beer continued with more volume this time. Michael aimed for Trevor's stomach; letting the other man rub it over his chest as well. Trevor leaned in to catch more piss; the bodily fluids pooling in the cage of his mouth. He then turned around so Michael could drench the rest of him, starting with his back. His piss made the black ink of Michael's written words streak downward like mascara on the cheeks of a crying beauty queen.
After he felt his back had been sufficiently drenched, Trevor quickly laid on his back on the floor; letting Michael stand over him to enjoy the dying stream that splashed onto him. Michael sighed in relief as the fully drained sensation of an empty bladder came over him.
He watched Trevor continue to masturbate as he laid there on the floor in a puddle of urine.
It was only a moment before a watery burst of cum would land on his already wet stomach; a lusty moan escaping him as he did so. Trevor laid there in a filthy euphoria; breathing heavily with his eyes half-closed.
"You're a funny boy, Michele...", Trevor mumbled as he sprawled out onto the floor.
"Wha? Who's Michele?"
Trevor didn't respond, Michael only heard the sound of his breathing in the quiet of the shack the drug-fiend called home.
Michael eventually made his way back onto the old, uncomfortable sofa and sat staring at the other man a little while longer. He was too drunk to feel guilty, all he felt was a kind of dirty relief. It was nice not having to think about being abandoned by his family, or being hunted by a powerful druglord, or the fact that he was a seriously flawed person who might never be happy. This was all thanks to the vile and whacked out scum that lay before him half-passed out on the floor. Having Trevor back in his life brought on a weird combination of emotions, and for a moment Michael was having a difficult time with the fact that he was still thinking about ways of removing him from the picture, including killing him.
Of course his brain shut that train of thought down before it could really get off the rails; his body was aching. No more decisions needed to be made tonight, all that mattered now was the hopeful blackness of sleep. Letting the washed-out haze of the pictureless light of the small TV lull him, Michael de Santa fell into the coma of slumber.