At school I was the focus of the scum generally referred to as, ‘The Bully.’ His name was Morgan, but he was known as ‘Conan.’ My entire high school career was beleaguered by his domination over me. I was subjected to constant pushing, shoving, and smothering by him. I was always up against a wall or on the ground being completely swamped by his huge body.

Morgan was a big guy, and by the time he was seventeen already stood six foot three inches tall, weighing two hundred and twenty pounds. My small one hundred and thirty pound body was no match for him. What made matters worse, was that his personal hygiene was not exactly exemplary. He was always smelly and sweaty, with his smoker’s breath constantly in my face as his huge grubby hands relentlessly tormented my head.

I was frequently aware of his stiff cock rubbing against me during my torture sessions, and felt sure that he derived some or other sexual pleasure from his supremacy over me. He always referred to me as ‘Slave-Boy,’ during these encounters. Morgan was quite sexy, but his severe acne condition was a major turn-off for me. Graduating from high school was therefore a relief, as I was finally rid of my persecutor.

Over the ensuing years I attended college, graduated, and then settled down to life in a very pleasant town. Fortunately, because of the design work I did I was able to work from my home, only having to spend one day a week at the offices of the company that employed me.

My small home had been purchased at a very low cost, but needed a lot of fixing. Systematically, I worked through a ‘to-do’ list and after a year had almost completed the renovation. One of the final tasks that I had to tackle was to replace my closed system fireplace. The existing one in the house had been neglected by the former owner and was beyond repair.

I contacted a local heating company who then sent their salesman by. After selecting the fireplace I wanted, he informed me that their technician would be visiting me in two days’ time to install the unit.

Two days later, after responding to a knock at the door, my heart almost stopped when I opened to find that Morgan was the technician. He was even taller and bigger than when I had last seen him. Although his acne was gone, there was ample evidence from the scaring it had left. Morgan looked as bewildered as I did and after introducing himself asked, “Aren’t you Reilly?”

I nodded apprehensively, before he entered the house with a wry smile. As he busied himself, we eventually swapped our life histories of the past five years. He told me that he had been married, but was now divorced. Fortunately, no kids had resulted during the marriage. To get away from his family and ex-wife, Morgan had requested a transfer to the local fireplace branch, a few months before.

Morgan had grown sexier since our school days. He still gave-off the masculine scent I remembered from years before, but being less prissy than I was at school it didn’t bug me any longer. His huge hands were rougher than I remembered, but given his kind of work, I supposed, that was to be expected. He wore a brown two-piece overall, with his name and company’s logo embroidered above the top pocket. His boots were enormous, and I felt sure he could fall asleep standing up. I even got to see his hairy tradesman’s crack while he installed my fireplace.

Morgan did a great job and in three hours his work was done. As he was leaving he asked if he could pop in from time to time, as he didn’t know anyone else in town. I responded affirmatively, but mentally chastised myself after he left. What the hell was I thinking? On the other hand, I was intrigued by how time and location could alter behaviour. Morgan had appeared to be in awe of me, and all my former fears evaporated by the time he left.

At seven p.m. two days later, he phoned me. Morgan had just eaten a takeaway, and asked if he could pop in for a visit with a few beers. Having eaten my own supper, I answered that it wouldn’t be a problem. He arrived ten minutes later dressed in his work clothes.

After consuming a beer he asked if he could use my toilet. Upon closing the bathroom door I remembered that I had a stash of gay magazines in the loo. I had a WTF moment, figuring that our budding friendship might just have run just its course. After returning, however, he said nothing about the magazines, and we continued chatting.

Following a pause in our conversation a while later, Morgan sheepishly said, “I’m sorry.” Picking up on my quizzical expression he continued, “That I was such a shit to you in high school.”

I smiled benignly before asking, “Why did you torment me?”

He shrugged and replied, “I was jealous of you.”

“What… why?” I asked incredulously.

“You are smart, good looking, everything I’m not. I come from white trash. You are clean-cut and cultured.” Smiling forlornly he then continued, “I was… and still am a smelly oaf. Back then my face looked like an acne war zone. I’m sure you have never even had one pimple,” he blurted as we both chuckled.

He went on to tell me that he had left everything he owned with his ex, whose redneck family were carbon copies of his own clan. He simply had to get away from the rut that his life had become, having grown sick and tired of it all. Visiting me in my beautiful home, had made him realise what a fuck-up he had made of his life. He continued saying that he was happy he had moved to this new town, and was positive about rebuilding his life here. Although he was currently living in a dingy room attached to the back of someone’s house, the peace and quiet was well worth it.

Before he left he told me that he was very pleased that he had bumped into me, and hoped we could be friends. As we walked to his pick-up he asked if I could cook. I replied that I believed I could. He then asked if I would consider teaching him, as he was living on eggs, pasta, and takeaways. I invited him to dinner two days hence, suggesting, he could then make up his mind about my culinary skills. After accepting my invitation he climbed into his vehicle and drove off.

Two days later, on Saturday, Morgan arrived at seven with a dozen beers in hand. He was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. His legs were bandy and hairy, and I finally got to see his huge feet. They were broad and totally magnificent, and I actually had to restrain myself from not blatantly staring at them.

At around eight we sat down to a leisurely dinner, which he savoured, continuously complimenting me. As our conversation flowed, I was astonished by how enjoyable I was finding my former tormentors company. We were both very relaxed, and Morgan was really putting away the beers. The night flew by and before we knew, it was one a.m.

Morgan then asked if I liked country music. After nodding my head affirmatively he retrieved a CD from his vehicle. We listened to one of his favourite tracks with the lyrics; ‘It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and I need you now.’ As the song ended he pushed the repeat button, before asking me to dance with him. Flabbergasted, I allowed him to embrace me before we swayed to the song.

When the song again ended, he pushed the repeat button once more and we danced again. This time, however, he held me a lot closer. I could feel that his cock was as hard as a rock. As the song ended, ironically at a quarter after one, we stood silent for a moment looking at one another. I broke the silence by suggesting that he use the spare room, given his alcoholic consumption. Nodding somewhat shyly, he followed me to the spare bedroom.

When I arrived in my bedroom I was excited and confused. Morgan had turned me on incredibly, but I did not want to read too much into the overtures of a well-oiled straight guy. With discretion having conquered lust, I fell asleep a short while later.

I received two phone calls from Morgan the following week. During the second call he asked when he could begin his cooking lessons. I invited him to dinner on Friday night.

He arrived at six, again wearing shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt. Preparing our simple meal together, Morgan was actually quite handy in the kitchen, and by eight we were enjoying the fruits of our combined labours. As before, whenever he needed a smoke, he went outside ignoring my invitation to smoke in the house.

Later Morgan asked if I minded him having a joint. Although I didn’t smoke weed, I always had special chocolate cookies that did the same job. After consuming our cookies, we were nicely chilled a short while later.

“When I tormented you at school, I always rushed off to the toilets afterward to wank,” Morgan suddenly confessed. “You cannot believe how much I wanted to fuck you.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask?” I replied.

“Well, firstly, I was sure that you would refuse. Secondly, that would have given you the upper hand, and you could have exposed me as some kind of pervert” he replied. We both giggled at the comment. “I would love to fuck Reilly,” Morgan concluded.

As I got up to fetch us two more beers, Morgan grabbed onto my arm and pulled me towards him. Seeing the apprehensive look on my face he said, “Relax baby, I won’t hurt you.”

“Who is going to fuck me,” I asked.

“Huh… sorry, but I don’t understand,” Morgan countered.

“Is Conan or Morgan going to fuck me?” I asked.

There was flood of realisation that drained over his face. Observing me with an impish grin he measuredly stated, “Well, I suppose Conan has waited long enough.”

“Cool,” I replied.

“Do realise that Conan likes it rough?” Morgan questioned.

I answered with a ‘so what’ gesture. As I once more tried to arise to fetch us two more beers, Morgan again restricted my body. Cupping my head in his left hand, he pulled my face towards his open mouth, and kissed me firmly. Lifting his body, he then pushed me under him, before pinning me down under his enormous frame. He began tugging on my lips with his teeth, gently at first, but then harder and harder.

Letting go of my lip, his malevolent eyes bore into mine as he said, “If you thought your bullying days were over, bad news Slave-Boy, because they’ve just begun again.”

Whimpering I answered, “Yes Conan.” With a wicked grin he closed in on my mouth, and continued his attack on my lips. Both ears soon followed, with me pleading for mercy. I had initiated the sex game and was very happy to play the role of the sexually vanquished. I did my best to resist his domination, uttering all the appropriate mock protestations. Morgan was in heaven as he totally took control of me.

Later, when we arose from the sofa he ordered me to the bedroom where I was commanded to strip. As Morgan walked around me fully clothed, his eyes scanned my body. He then sat on the end of the bed and pulled me over his lap, before brutally slapping my arse. His huge left hand kept my body in place, as he administered violent slaps with his right hand. Morgan ignored my playacting as I howled and pleaded, relentlessly pummelling my backside. Lifting up, he tossed my body onto the bed and began stripping.

First he kicked his sandals off, before removing his T-shirt and shorts. He wasn’t overly hairy, but had enough fur to suit my taste. When his underpants finally dropped, I had an OMG moment. His cock was in keeping with the rest of his bulk. Never mind the toddlers-arm story, his knob looked more like a toddlers-leg. It was cone shaped, with an incredibly thick base that tapered to a foreskin overhang that puckered like a long spout off the end of his dick.

As he climbed onto the bed he instructed me to turn onto my stomach. Pulling my legs apart with his strong hands, I again received a few mighty slaps. Leaning over me while balancing on his left arm, his right hand began guiding his cock into my arse. Finally leaning on both arms, I felt the giant cones onslaught into my anxious hole.

As he shoved himself further and further into me, my sphincter stretched wider and wider, to accommodate the ever expanding cone. Three quarters in, I began to yelp, before he speared all the way into me. Thank goodness I had my eyes closed, or they would have popped out of their sockets. Without pause he slumped onto me and pushing his arms through under my arms, placed he hands on my head. Pushing down on my head he started riding me like a bucking bronco while grunting with delight, as I squirmed and flailed beneath him.

Plundering my outstretched butt-hole he battered me with force. The more I begged for mercy, egging him on, the more he told me that my body belonged to him. I loved my subjugation and the verbal abuse he spat at me. Becoming inebriated by his abuse I eagerly succumbed to the torture. I began pleading with him to fuck my arse harder and he did not disappoint. Lifting onto his knees he pulled my right leg up and began thrusting his huge cock completely in, and out of me. I cried in ecstasy as he battered my hole ruthlessly.

As his massive hand constricted my throat, I began gasping for air. Inexplicably, I started unloading the biggest orgasm of my life a minute later, without even touching my cock. As I convulsed in the throes of passion, he began spraying my bowels full of his cream. With both of us sweating like race horses after a steeplechase, he collapsed next to me on the bed. Panting for several minutes, we just lay there exhausted. No words were exchanged as we gathered our composure.

Later in the kitchen, we each drank a huge bottle of water.

After we finally got back to bed there was a complete change of tempo. Morgan’s turn had arrived, and was very loving as he caressed and kissed me with unbelievable tenderness. Moving his body behind mine, he began his next entry of my butt, but this time it slow and gentle. Once all the way in, he magically moderated his persistent pace. Rhythmically fucking me, we restfully swayed to and fro as he made love to me, constantly kissing and nibbling on my ears and mouth.

After an hour long visit to paradise we unloaded in a cloud of rapture, savouring our bliss for several moments.

“So who do prefer?” Morgan eventually asked.

“Do I have to choose?” I replied laughing.

“Reilly, that was the best sex I have ever had,” Morgan stated. “By the way, how did you cope with Conan?”

“I really like both guys and would be happy to continue this threesome,” was my reply.

Sniggering Morgan said, “Both of us will be happy to ensure your continued pleasure.”

With a serious look on his face he asked, “Would you consider renting me your spare room?”

He looked dejected and puzzled when I answered, “Absolutely not.” After a few seconds I added, “But if the two of you would consider moving into the main bedroom, the answer would be an absolute yes.” After giggling, we were asleep shortly after.