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Here's the long awaited Chapter 8 of Brandon's adventures.
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After a grueling training session and the sky begins to darken, Brandon, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, was gathering his gear when Coach Thompson approached him with a clipboard tucked under his arm.
"Brandon, can you come to my office for a moment? I want to go over some mental strategies for the race in the next few days," Coach Thompson said, his voice calm and authoritative.
Brandon nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Sure thing, Coach."
As they settled in the office, Brandon in the hypnosis chair, Coach Thompson cleared his throat. "Brandon, before we dive into the strategies, I wanted to touch base about your visit with Father Johnson. How did it go?"
Brandon's brow furrowed, puzzled. "How did you know I... visited Father Johnson?"
Coach Thompson chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Oh, Brandon, I'm quite close to Father Johnson. We share... insights from time to time. Let's just say I'm privy to most of what goes on around here."
Brandon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the memory of his session with Father Johnson resurfaced. The vivid recollection of being bound, naked and exposed, under the old priest's meticulous touch flooded back—each caress supposedly purifying him after his multiple climaxes. The intensity of the experience had left him feeling both overwhelmed and oddly soothed, a confusing blend of emotions that he hadn't fully processed yet.
Coach Thompson leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he probed deeper. "So how did the visit feel? Do you think Father Johnson helped you to... release some tension?"
Brandon began, choosing his words carefully. He shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Coach Thompson's gaze even as his cock began to stir. "Father Johnson has a ...unique way of helping, I guess you could say. He believes in a sort of ...spiritual cleansing."
Coach Thompson nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. "And how does it feel, Brandon? To be so thoroughly... attended to? Does it excite you, knowing you can achieve such heights of pleasure under his guidance?"
Brandon hesitated, his throat suddenly dry. "It was... different...intense?" The memory of Father Johnson's hands, lips and mouth guiding him to climax, over and over, made his cheeks burn and his cock getting harder.
"And do you think this intensity translates to your swimming? Does it make you stronger, faster?" Coach Thompson's voice was coaxing and leading.
"I... I think so, Coach. It's hard to explain, but everything does feel a little sharper, clearer," Brandon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That's what we want, Brandon. Clarity, focus. And if Father Johnson's methods are helping you achieve that, then perhaps we should explore them further. Don't you think?"
Brandon took a couple of deep breaths, his expression thoughtful even as his eyes were closed in the chair. "Yes, coach."
Coach Thompson placed his hands on Brandon's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Well, I believe we should explore this avenue further. Perhaps increasing the frequency of these sessions with Father Johnson could enhance your mental clarity even more. What do you think?"
Brandon hesitated, the idea both intriguing and unsettling. "I... I guess it could be beneficial. But are you sure that's necessary?"
Coach Thompson, annoyed at Brandon's pushback but maintaining control, stroked Brandon's hair as he answered. "Absolutely, Brandon. Your mental preparation is just as vital as your physical training. And if Father Johnson's methods are working, why not maximize their potential? I can arrange for him to be more involved in your weekly routines. It's all about giving you the best chance to succeed."
Brandon felt a knot form in his stomach but pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the potential benefits. "Okay, Coach. If you think it'll help, I'm willing to try."
Coach Thompson smiled, a plan forming in his mind. "Excellent decision, Brandon. I'll speak with Father Johnson immediately. We want to ensure every aspect of your training is optimized."
"Thanks, Coach. I appreciate that."
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Meanwhile, Mr. Bunhead had been watching from afar, his eyes never straying far from Brandon's muscular form. After their encounter, the young swimmer had consumed his thoughts incessantly. Over the past few days, the obese professor had meticulously observed and stalked Brandon, memorizing his schedule and plotting ways to ingratiate himself further into the teen's life.
Mr. Bunhead's jealousy of Coach Thompson's influence over Brandon was palpable. He seethed quietly in his office, his mind racing with schemes to usurp the coach's position. "Why should Thompson have all the fun?" he muttered to himself, his fingers drumming impatiently on his desk.
Mr. Bunhead's resolve hardened as he watched Brandon from his concealed vantage point. The evening air was thick with the scent of chlorine and sweat, a familiar backdrop to his secret observations.
As Brandon completed his laps, his powerful strokes cutting through the water, Mr. Bunhead's eyes never left him. Once training concluded, Brandon, as usual, headed towards Coach Thompson's office.
Mr. Bunhead, his heart racing with anticipation, slipped into the shadows near the office door. His large frame was barely concealed, but the thrill of being so close to his object of desire overshadowed any caution.
He pressed himself against the door, listening intently. The muffled voices inside the office were just within earshot. Mr. Bunhead's breathing was labored, not just from the physical exertion of his stealthy approach but also from the intense mix of envy and desire that consumed him.
"Shameless Thompson..." Mr. Bunhead muttered under his breath, his fingers digging into the flesh of his arms as he strained to catch every word exchanged between Brandon and the coach. His mind raced with plans to ingratiate himself into Brandon's life, to become an indispensable part of Brandon's routine, just as Thompson had.
As Mr Bunhead pressed his ear against the cool wood of the door, the muffled voices inside grew clearer; Coach Thompson's voice was low and rhythmic, a stark contrast to Brandon's more hesitant responses.
"Now, Brandon, focus on my voice," Coach Thompson intoned, his words smooth and persuasive. "Your muscles relax, your mind clears, and you trust me completely."
Brandon's voice was barely audible, a soft murmur of agreement. "Yes, Coach..."
Mr. Bunhead's jealousy flared hotter. He clenched his fists, sweat beading on his forehead. "Hypnotizing him... that sly old fox," he whispered harshly, his mind racing with plans to intervene and claim Brandon for himself.
Mr. Bunhead's envious mind churned with dark, intricate plots to weaken Coach Thompson's hold on Brandon. "One day," he murmured to himself, his voice a low growl, "I'll have that boy under my thumb, his body and the hot release of his cum at my command whenever I desire it." The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light as he envisioned the scenarios where he would be the one guiding Brandon's every move, every climax.
Suddenly, Mr. Bunhead's mobile phone vibrated. Mr Bunhead nearly jumped out of his skin and he quickly retreated from his position outside Coach Thompson's office, waddling away as fast as his bulky frame allowed. Once at a safe distance, he answered the call, his heart still pounding from the scare.
"WHAT? .....Hello?" he whispered hoarsely, trying to catch his breath.
"Ah, Mr. Bunhead, it's Chen. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Mr. Bunhead steadied himself, adjusting his glasses. "No, no, just finishing up some work here. It's been a while! How have you been?"
"Guess what Bunhead, I've just moved into the neighborhood," Mr. Chen began, his voice inviting and almost conspiratorial over the phone. "It's quite a change from my previous place, but I must say, the view here is spectacular."
"Oh? That sounds lovely," Mr. Bunhead replied while walking back to his office, intrigued by the unexpected call but still flustered, making sure he wasn't noticed stalking Brandon.
Mr. Chen's voice crackled through the phone, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You'd be interested to know, Bunhead, I've met some of my neighbors."
Mr. Bunhead, now settled into his office, absent-mindedly glanced at the sofa where he had once savored Brandon body and drank his hot juice. His mind was still half in the past, not fully engaged in the conversation. "Oh?" Mr. Bunhead replied dismissively, distracted by his memories.
"Indeed," Mr. Chen continued, his voice deliberate. "I've been getting to know some of the local talent in the college as well, particularly the swimming team. Do you happen to know any of them?"
Mr. Bunhead's attention snapped fully to the conversation. His interest sharpened, his thoughts racing as he considered the implications of Mr. Chen's query. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his mouth watered at the thought of discussing Brandon. "Well, I'm quite familiar with them, especially one particular swimmer. Why do you ask?"
Mr. Chen's voice carried a hint of excitement. "It seems one of the star swimmers is my neighbor 2 doors down from me. A young man named Brandon, quite the looker."
Mr. Bunhead's heart raced as the implications of Mr. Chen's words settled in. The possibility that Mr. Chen was now neighbors with Brandon, so close to the object of his obsession, sent a surge of excitement through him. His mind spun with vivid scenarios, each more enticing than the last. "Brandon, you say? Yes, I know him well. He's not just any swimmer; he's now the star of the team, breaking records left and right," Mr. Bunhead said, his voice quivering with barely contained enthusiasm.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glazing over as he continued, "And he's also in my class! Not the best student, but always eager... willing to seek guidance." Mr. Bunhead's voice trailed off, his thoughts drifting to the private tutoring session where he enjoyed Brandon's body.
"It's quite a coincidence, isn't it?" Mr. Bunhead added, trying to sound casual, though his mind was ablaze with plans. "Living so close to someone like Brandon must be... interesting."
Mr. Chen's laughter carried a deeper, knowing tone through the phone, his voice laced with a shared understanding. "Indeed, it is quite invigorating," he agreed, his words slow and deliberate. "Knowing you, you'd agree with me that there's something undeniably thrilling about observing such raw talent so closely."
Mr. Bunhead leaned forward in his chair, his interest piqued by Mr. Chen's subtle acknowledgment of their mutual fascination. "Absolutely, Mr. Chen. It's rare to find someone who appreciates the... finer details of athletic prowess as much as I do."
"I can imagine," Mr. Chen replied, almost starting a scheme. "It must be quite something to witness firsthand, especially when it involves someone as... physically gifted as Brandon."
Mr. Bunhead's heart raced at the mention of Brandon's name, his mind filling with vivid images of the young swimmer. "Indeed, it is," he admitted, his voice now coarse and desperate. "There's a certain... intensity to his training that is hard to ignore. It's almost as if one can feel the energy radiating from him."
"I've noticed that too," Mr. Chen said, his tone conspiratorial. "It's as if every movement, every stroke, is charged with an electric potential. Watching him, one can't help but wonder about the untapped power within him."
Mr. Bunhead nodded, though Mr. Chen couldn't see it. "Exactly my thoughts," he murmured, his mind racing with possibilities. "It's fascinating, isn't it? The way he moves, the strength he exerts... it's all very... compelling."
"Compelling indeed," Mr. Chen echoed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And to think, he's just a few doors down from me. It's almost too convenient, don't you think?"
Mr. Bunhead's eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and calculation. "Convenient indeed, Mr. Chen.
There was a short pause. Mr. Chen then followed, his voice carried a knowing tone, "So, Bunhead, I take it you ...know him well?"
Mr. Bunhead, realizing the potential of having Mr. Chen as an ally, leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face as schemes zipped all over his mind. "Indeed, I do," he began, his voice nervous but deliberate. "Just a few days ago, Brandon was in my office, discussing his essay. It was during that session... well, let's just say ...things took an unexpected turn."
Mr. Chen listened intently, his curiosity fully engaged. "Oh? Do tell, Bunhead. What kind of turn?"
"Brandon, ever the diligent student, came to me seeking feedback on his essay grades," Mr. Bunhead began, his eyes alight with the memory. "It was a sweltering day, and I casually mentioned how warm the room felt. Suggesting it might be more comfortable, I asked him to remove his tank top."
Mr. Chen leaned in, intrigued by the unfolding narrative. "And did he?"
"Indeed, he did," Mr. Bunhead replied, a sly grin playing on his lips. "His muscular torso glistened slightly with sweat, making every muscle stand out in stark relief. It was... mesmerizing."
Mr. Chen's voice carried a note of anticipation. "So, what happened next?"
"As we discussed his essay, my hand 'accidentally' brushed against his arm," Mr. Bunhead recounted, his tone thick with desire. "I could feel the heat from his skin, the firmness of his muscles. It was intoxicating. Gradually, my 'guidance' shifted from the paper to his body."
Mr. Chen's breath hitched, clearly captivated by the story. "You touched him? How did he react?"
"At first, he seemed surprised, but he didn't pull away," Mr. Bunhead continued, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. " I let my hand roam over his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall as his breathing quickened. His abs were like a roadmap under my fingers, leading me lower."
Mr. Chen's voice was a mix of awe and envy. "And then?"
"Then, my hand found its way to the waistband of his shorts," Mr. Bunhead said, his smile widening. "I could feel the outline of his arousal, the promise of his manliness. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, surrendering to my touch."
Mr. Chen's voice dropped to a whisper, almost losing his voice with Bunhead's salacious details. "Bunhead, so you tasted him? Oh my god. How did he taste?"
Mr. Bunhead licked his lips, a greedy smile spreading across his face as he recounted Brandon's hot cock and the taste of his sperm. "His essence was... intoxicating," he murmured, his eyes glazing over with the memory. "It was like nothing I've ever experienced before—rich, potent, and utterly addictive. Delicious."
With this, the tacit pact between the two old perverts was sealed. Mr. Bunhead, upon realizing the potential of having Mr. Chen as an ally in his schemes, wasted no time in formulating a plan. He knew that with Mr. Chen's proximity to Brandon, they could work together to isolate the young swimmer and have him all to themselves and away from Coach Thompson's machinations.
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Before that phone call, Mr. Chen, Brandon's elderly neighbor, had been obsessing with the young swimmer. The elderly neighbor paced back and forth in his living room, each step fueled by fantasies of arranging another meeting with the young swimmer. Mr Chen found himself consumed by thoughts of Brandon's hot body and good looks and had spent the past few days lingering outside the walkway of their apartment complex, hoping to "bump" into Brandon, but to no avail. Despite living just two doors down, their paths hadn't crossed.
Mr. Chen's days and nights were filled with fantasies of touching and tasting Brandon's flesh. He began brainstorming more ways to run into the young athlete. Perhaps he could feign a need for help with something around his apartment, or maybe he could invite Brandon over for dinner under the guise of neighborly friendliness. The possibilities swirled in his mind as he lay awake at night, his heart racing with anticipation; the idea of having Brandon in his home, under his roof, filled him with a thrilling sense of anticipation.
Mr. Chen's desperation mounted with each passing day without a sighting of Brandon. As Mr. Chen's desperation to encounter Brandon grew, he found himself running out of plausible scenarios to naturally cross paths with the young swimmer. Frustrated and increasingly obsessed, he suddenly remembered his former colleague, Mr. Bunhead, who also worked at the college where Brandon was a student. He knew Mr. Bunhead shared a similar... appreciation for athletic, well-built young men like Brandon. Perhaps Mr. Bunhead had more insight or even direct access to Brandon that could benefit them both.
With this newfound hope, Mr. Chen decided to call Mr. Bunhead. He paced around his living room, rehearsing what he would say as he dialed the number. The phone rang several times before Mr. Bunhead picked up, his voice slightly breathless.
"Hello? Mr. Bunhead, it's Chen. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important,"
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As Mr. Chen ended the call with Mr. Bunhead, a surge of excitement mixed with envy coursed through him. Despite his unappealing appearance and cumbersome physique, Mr. Bunhead had somehow managed to weasel himself into Brandon's private world. "That son of a gun" Mr. Chen murmured to himself, his mind buzzing with schemes.
During their conversation, Mr. Bunhead had also divulged the details about Coach Thompson's hypnosis sessions with Brandon. This revelation sparked a new line of thought in Mr. Chen's plotting. The idea of manipulating Brandon's mind, guiding his thoughts and actions from behind the scenes, was incredibly alluring. It offered a way to exert control over the young swimmer without direct confrontation, a subtle yet powerful approach.
Mr. Chen paced around his living room, his mind racing with possibilities. If he could somehow tap into the hypnotic influence that Coach Thompson wielded over Brandon, he might be able to steer the young man's actions to his own ends. The thrill of such clandestine power excited him, fueling his determination to act on this new plan.
Determined not to be outdone by all the other old perverts in Brandon's life, Mr. Chen paced around his living room, his thoughts consumed by the desire to encounter Brandon in the most natural yet advantageous way possible. He knew that proximity was his greatest asset; after all, he lived just two doors down from the young swimmer.
Mr. Chen decided it was time to act. He couldn't rely on chance encounters anymore. He needed a strategy, a plan that would ensure Brandon would come to him. The idea of having Brandon in his own home, under his control, sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.
The next morning, Mr. Chen rose early, his resolve steeled. He spent the morning preparing his apartment, making sure it was immaculate yet inviting. He brewed a fresh pot of coffee, its aroma filling the air, and set out some pastries on a tray, creating an atmosphere of casual hospitality.
Mr. Chen, who rarely engaged in overt stalking, found himself by his window more often than usual, observing the comings and goings of his neighbors. He watched as Ms. Tanaka, Brandon's mother, elegantly made her way to work first thing in the morning, even though it was the weekend. The morning routine of the apartment complex was a mundane ballet and Mr Chen wants its star performer.
Just as Mr. Chen was about to give up and step away from the window, his heart skipped a beat. There, emerging from his apartment, was Brandon. Dressed in his athletic gear, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame, he looked every bit the star athlete he was. The sight of him sent a jolt of anticipation through Mr. Chen. It was clear that Brandon was heading out for another grueling training session, his dedication evident in the determined set of his handsome face.
Mr. Chen, his heart pounding with anticipation, grabbed the watering can he had strategically placed by the door earlier. He timed his exit perfectly, stepping out just as Brandon was about to pass by his apartment. The young swimmer, absorbed in his thoughts and the rhythm of his morning routine, didn't notice Mr. Chen until they collided.
As they bumped into each other, Mr. Chen dramatically threw his watering can over Brandon and fell to the floor. Before he realized what had happened, Brandon ran into Mr. Chen and was shocked at the old man suddenly appearing. The watering can spilled all over Brandon, soaking him and leaving him dripping wet.
Mr. Chen stayed on the floor, pretending to be hurt and slightly distressed. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, wincing as if in pain. "I didn't see you there, young man."
Brandon, feeling guilty and shocked, quickly knelt down beside Mr. Chen. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Are you okay, sir? I'm so sorry," he said, concern etched on his face.
"I think I might have hurt my hip," Mr. Chen replied, his voice quivering slightly. "Could you help me up?"
Without hesitation, Brandon gently helped Mr. Chen to his feet. "Let's get you inside first," he suggested, supporting the older man as they slowly made their way into Mr. Chen's apartment.
As Brandon helped Mr. Chen into his apartment, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of guilt. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Chen. Maybe we should call a doctor?" he suggested, his voice laced with concern as he supported the older man's weight.
Mr. Chen waved off the suggestion, grimacing slightly for effect. "No, no, I think I just need to lie down. Could you help me to my bedroom?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with a hidden agenda.
Brandon nodded, his soaked clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. "Of course, let's get you to bed," he said, carefully guiding Mr. Chen through the familiar yet subtly altered space of the apartment.
Once in the bedroom, Mr. Chen sat on the edge of his bed, glanced at Brandon's wet attire and feigned a chuckle. "You're making me and my floor wet, young man. Why don't you take off those wet clothes? I can lend you something dry to wear."
Brandon's face flushed with embarrassment as he realized he was only wearing his swimming shorts, without any underwear. "Um, actually, I don't have anything on under these," he stammered, looking around awkwardly. "I can't really take them off."
Mr. Chen's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, his disappointment quickly turning into a sly grin. "Oh, don't worry about that, Brandon. Just take off those wet clothes. I'll get you a towel," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring.
Brandon hesitated, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to be any trouble," he replied, his discomfort evident in his tone.
"Absolutely, no trouble at all," Mr. Chen insisted, gesturing at a chest of drawers. "Here, open the first drawer. You'll find some towels there. Grab one for yourself."
As Brandon approached the drawer, he pulled it open to reveal a stack of towels. To his surprise, they were unusually small, barely large enough to wrap around his waist. He couldn't help but wonder how these tiny towels could possibly suffice for someone with a pot belly like Mr. Chen. Nevertheless, he picked one up, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.
"This will have to do for now," Brandon murmured, draping the towel around his hips, the ends barely meeting. He glanced at Mr. Chen, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. "Thank you, Mr. Chen."
Mr. Chen nodded, his eyes lingering on Brandon's exposed torso. "You're welcome, Brandon. Now, let's make sure you're comfortable while we sort out your clothes."
Brandon hesitated for a moment, then decided to trust Mr. Chen's judgment. He quickly peeled off his wet tank top and shorts, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and wrapped the towel securely around his waist, covering himself from the waist down.
"Thanks, Mr. Chen. I'm really sorry about just now," he said, his voice tinged with guilt as he stood there, now only clad in the towel.
"Don't worry, Brandon," Mr. Chen replied, his gaze briefly tracing over the young swimmer's muscular, exposed torso.
Brandon, feeling a mix of awkwardness and concern, stood by the bed, his muscular frame mostly exposed except for the small towel draped around his waist. Mr. Chen, seated on the edge of the bed, continued to feign discomfort from his hip, which he claimed was injured during their collision.
"Brandon, could you help me get more comfortable? I think if I lie down properly, it might ease the pain," Mr. Chen suggested, his voice laced with a hint of urgency that made Brandon feel even more responsible.
Without hesitation, Brandon moved closer, his movements cautious as he didn't want to cause further discomfort. "Of course, Mr. Chen. How can I help?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Mr. Chen gestured towards the pillows behind him. "Perhaps if you could adjust these pillows so I can lean back comfortably? It would really help," he explained, watching Brandon closely.
Brandon nodded, bending over to rearrange the pillows. As he did, the towel around his waist loosened slightly, revealing more of his toned physique. Unaware of the slip, Brandon focused on making Mr. Chen comfortable. "Is this better?" he asked, stepping back to assess his work.
Mr. Chen, taking advantage of the situation, subtly shifted his seating position to be closer to Brandon who was bent over the bed adjusting the pillows, his muscular frame tantalisingly brushing Mr Chen's pudgy one. "A bit more to the right, please. Yes, just like that," he directed, his voice calm but his eyes keenly observing every inch of Brandon's exposed skin.
Once satisfied with the pillow arrangement, Mr. Chen leaned back and sat upright, sighing as if relieved. "Thank you, Brandon. You've been very helpful. I appreciate your kindness," he said, his tone warm and appreciative.
Brandon smiled, relieved that he could assist. "I'm glad I could help, Mr. Chen. If there's anything else you need, just let me know," he offered, still feeling somewhat uneasy about the situation but willing to do what he could to make amends.
As Brandon stood there, the weight of the situation began to sink in. He glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing that he was already late for his training session. The guilt over Mr. Chen's supposed injury gnawed at him, making it impossible for him to simply leave.
Mr. Chen, sensing Brandon's internal conflict, decided to exploit the young man's sense of responsibility. "Brandon, I understand you must be eager to get to your training, but I'm really not feeling well," he said, feigning a pained expression. "Would you mind staying just a little longer? I might need some help getting up later."
Brandon hesitated, torn between his commitment to his training and his concern for Mr. Chen. "I... I don't want to leave you in pain, Mr. Chen. But my coach is very strict about punctuality," he explained, his voice laced with anxiety.
Seeing an opportunity to further entangle Brandon in his web, Mr. Chen quickly interjected, "Perhaps you could call your coach and explain the situation? I'm sure he would understand given the circumstances."
Mr. Chen, observing Brandon's hesitation, suggested gently, "Why don't you sit here by the bed while you make your call? It might be more comfortable for you." He patted the spot next to him, his eyes never leaving Brandon's face.
Brandon, feeling a mix of gratitude and unease, nodded and perched on the edge of the bed, pulling out his phone. As he dialed Coach Thompson's number, Mr. Chen placed a comforting hand on his back, or so it seemed. However, the touch soon turned into a gentle caress that moved slowly up and down Brandon's back, each stroke deliberate and lingering.
"Take your time, Brandon," Mr. Chen murmured, his voice soft yet laced with an undercurrent of something darker.
His heart pounded as the call connected. "Coach, it's Brandon," he began, his voice tense. "I had an accident on my way to training. I bumped into Mr. Chen, our neighbor, and he seems to be hurt. I can't leave him alone."
Coach Thompson's voice came through, stern but understanding. "What happened, exactly? Is he badly injured?"
Brandon explained the situation, emphasizing Mr. Chen's discomfort and his own reluctance to leave without ensuring the older man was okay. "He's in quite a bit of pain, Coach. I feel responsible."
There was a pause on the line before Coach Thompson responded, his tone softening slightly. "And where exactly are you now, Brandon?"
As Brandon spoke, his voice tinged with embarrassment, Mr. Chen subtly increased the pressure of his hand on Brandon's back, continuing his gentle caresses. With a deft and seemingly casual movement, Mr. Chen reached over and unhooked the end of the towel that was loosely tied around Brandon's waist, causing the fabric to loosen further.
"I'm at Mr. Chen's apartment, helping him get comfortable. I'm actually just in a towel because I got soaked when we collided," Brandon admitted, his focus on the conversation with Coach Thompson making him oblivious to Mr. Chen's actions.
Coach Thompson's interest piqued at the mention of Brandon being in a towel at an old man's house. A devious thought crossed his mind. "Well, Brandon, it sounds like you're in a delicate situation. It's important to take care of your neighbors. Maybe this is a good opportunity for you to... bond with Mr. Chen."
Brandon was surprised by the suggestion. "Bond, Coach? How do you mean?"
"I mean, perhaps you should spend more time there, help him out. It's not every day you get such a chance to connect with someone so... intimately," Coach Thompson said, his voice laced with a subtle undertone.
Brandon frowned, unsure of how to respond. "I... I guess I could stay a bit longer, make sure he's alright."
"Exactly, Brandon. And who knows? This might even benefit you in ways you haven't considered yet. Sometimes, these unexpected situations lead to... new experiences," Coach Thompson hinted, his mind racing with possibilities.
"New experiences?" Brandon echoed, puzzled but trusting his coach's judgment. "Yes, Brandon. Think of it as an extension of your training. Learning to adapt and handle different scenarios. You never know what you might learn from Mr. Chen," Coach Thompson continued, encouragingly.
Brandon nodded, though Coach Thompson couldn't see it. "Okay, Coach. I'll stay and help Mr. Chen. Thanks for understanding."
"Of course, Brandon. Just remember, make up the missed training later. And maybe report back to me about your... experiences," Coach Thompson added, his voice dripping with implication.
As Brandon ended the call, he turned back to Mr. Chen, who watched him with keen interest. "Coach says it's okay for me to stay, but I have to make up for the missed training later," he informed Mr. Chen.
Mr. Chen nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Brandon. I really appreciate your help," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Mr. Chen then feigned a sudden thirst. "Could you fetch me a glass of ice water, please? My throat is parched," he requested, his voice laced with a hint of urgency.
Brandon, eager to be of further assistance and to get out of an uncomfortable situation, nodded quickly. "Of course, I'll be right back," he said, standing up from the bed. As he did, the towel that had been loosely secured around his waist, thanks to Mr. Chen's earlier manipulation, suddenly slipped and fell to the floor.
Startled, Brandon instinctively reached down to grab the towel, inadvertently exposing himself completely in the process. His face flushed with embarrassment as he hastily tried to cover himself again.
Mr. Chen, however, raised a hand to stop him. "No need for that, Brandon," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "Accidents happen, and there's no harm done. Besides, no one else is here to see us. You can relax." He gestured for the towel to remain on the floor. "In fact, it might be more comfortable for you to just let go of the towel. It's only us here, after all."
Brandon hesitated, clutching the towel uncertainly. The idea of being naked in front of Mr. Chen made him uneasy, but the older man's insistence and the logic of his words made it difficult to refuse. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Absolutely," Mr. Chen reassured him, his eyes holding a warmth that belied the thrill of control coursing through him. "I promise you, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, it might help you feel more at ease, less restricted."
After a moment's hesitation, Brandon slowly released the towel, letting it drop back to the floor. Standing there naked, he felt vulnerable but strangely liberated under Mr. Chen's approving gaze. "Okay," he murmured, trying to convince himself that this was just another part of helping out a neighbor in need.
Mr. Chen smiled, pleased with how events were unfolding. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now, let's get that water for me, and then we can discuss what other help I might need today."
As Brandon entered the room, the glass of iced water in hand, he noticed that Mr. Chen had changed his position and now sitting on the edge of the bed again, a move that seemed both sudden and deliberate. Brandon, still naked and self-conscious, approached cautiously, his muscles tensing under the older man's steady gaze.
"Here you go, Mr. Chen," Brandon said, extending the glass towards him, his voice tinged with a mix of awkwardness and the remnants of embarrassment.
Mr. Chen took the glass, his eyes never straying from Brandon's exposed form. "Thank you, Brandon. You really are too kind," he remarked, his tone smooth and laced with an undercurrent of something deeper.
As Brandon stood there, his naked form casting a shadow over the bed, he felt a mix of confusion and discomfort. Mr. Chen, with a sly smile, reached into the glass of iced water and pulled out an ice cube. He held it up, letting the cool moisture glisten in the light before slowly bringing it to Brandon's chest.
The cold sensation against his warm skin made Brandon flinch slightly, but he didn't move away. Instead, he watched, wide-eyed, as Mr. Chen seductively slid the ice cube over his pecs, circling around each nipple, causing them to harden under the chill.
"Mr. ..Mr Chen, what are you doing?" Brandon asked, his voice a mix of shock and curiosity.
Mr. Chen looked up at him, the ice cube still in his grasp, now dripping down Brandon's torso. "Just think of this as another way to adapt, Brandon," he said, his voice calm yet charged with an underlying intensity. "Your Coach Thompson talked about adapting to different situations, didn't he? Consider this part of your... training."
Brandon's brow furrowed, trying to process the situation. "Adapting? But how is this—"
Brandon's mind raced, torn between his ingrained sense of duty towards his training and the strange allure of Mr. Chen's words. He remembered the advice from Coach Thompson and Father Johnson, about allowing these encounters, about how they were somehow beneficial to him. It was confusing, but the echoes of their voices in his head made it seem almost logical.
His nipples were stiff under the older man's touch, and a flush spread across his chest, burning through the ice cube.
Mr. Chen's gaze locked with Brandon's, his eyes piercing deep into the young swimmer's psyche. He leaned forward from his seated position on the bed, his voice firm yet delicate as he spoke. "Brandon, you need to understand this: you will place your full trust in me. It's essential, for both of us," he stated, each word carrying a weight that demanded obedience.
Mr. Chen's hands continued their deliberate journey down Brandon's abdomen, each touch imbued with a silent command. "You will let go of your doubts, Brandon. You want me to guide you through this," he murmured, his voice low and compelling. The subtle authority in his tone seemed to resonate with something deep within Brandon, who found himself inexplicably drawn to comply with these quiet commands that he somehow wanted to partake in.
Brandon took a deep breath, his body tense yet tingling with an unfamiliar sense of control. Memories of Mr. Bunhead's earlier encounter flickered through his mind, the thrill of being desired and worshipped resonating within him. Part of him still wanted to flee, to reject this unexpected and increasingly intimate situation, but another part—influenced by both Coach Thompson's and Father Johnson's teachings—urged him to embrace it. He felt a surge of empowerment, a notion that he himself craved this attention, this worship.
With a deliberate motion, Brandon slowly lowered his hand from his cock, exposing himself fully to Mr. Chen's gaze. The vulnerability was palpable, yet there was a defiant edge to his actions, as if he were claiming sovereignty over his own desires. "I... I guess this is what you want," he murmured, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.
"Yes, Brandon. Good boy," Mr. Chen praised, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he continued his gentle assault on Brandon's senses, pushing him further into uncharted territory.
Mr. Chen's eyes sparkled with a mix of anticipation and triumph as he watched Brandon's internal struggle. Sensing the young man's wavering resolve, he decided to push further, his voice smooth and commanding. "Now, Brandon, put your arms behind your head and flex for me," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
Brandon hesitated, his thoughts a tumultuous whirl of confusion and an unsettling sense of submission. With a deep, steadying breath, he slowly raised his arms, locking them behind his head in a pose that accentuated the sculpted lines of his physique. As he flexed, his biceps bulged impressively, each muscle defined and taut under the scrutiny of Mr. Chen's gaze. The ripple of his pectorals and the subtle curve of his abs were now fully exposed, each contour highlighted by the soft light filtering through the room.
Mr. Chen's eyes widened with unabashed lust, devouring every inch of Brandon's displayed body. His gaze lingered on the swell of Brandon's biceps, then traced down the firm planes of his chest to the enticing adonis V-shape of his hips. A predatory smile played on Mr. Chen's lips as he took in the sight, his breathing quickening with each passing second. The air between them charged with an electric tension, Mr. Chen's hands itched with the desire to explore further, to touch and claim the young man's body as his own.
Mr. Chen leaned forward, his excitement palpable as he prepared to indulge in the intimate exploration of Brandon's body. He began by gently licking around the edges of Brandon's armpits, his tongue delicately tracing the contours of the sensitive skin. The older man inhaled deeply, savoring the unique scent that emanated from Brandon—a potent mix of sweat and the lingering freshness of a morning shower. "Such a strong, masculine smell," Mr. Chen murmured appreciatively, his voice thick with desire as he allowed himself to be enveloped by the intoxicating aroma.
As he continued, Mr. Chen's tongue ventured further, exploring the subtle crevices and valleys of Brandon's underarms. Each lick was deliberate, designed to heighten the sensory experience for both of them. The warmth of his breath and the wetness of his tongue sent shivers down Brandon's spine, eliciting a mix of discomfort and an unexpected thrill.
Mr. Chen's eyes never left Brandon's face, watching for any signs of resistance or pleasure, ready to adjust his approach accordingly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to taste you like this," Mr. Chen whispered, his voice husky with lust. His hands moved to gently cup Brandon's biceps, squeezing lightly as if to gauge their strength and firmness. "Every muscle, every drop of sweat... it's all so incredibly alluring."
Brandon, caught in the web of Mr. Chen's advances, felt his body respond involuntarily. Despite his initial reluctance, the sensations were undeniable. His nipples betrayed his arousal as the combination of Mr. Chen's words and actions created a confusing blend of emotions within him, pulling him deeper into the vortex of submission and pleasure.
As he continued, Mr. Chen's licks became more deliberate, tracing patterns along Brandon's skin as he moved lower, towards his chest. Each stroke of his tongue sent shivers down Brandon's spine, causing him to tense involuntarily. Despite his initial reluctance, there was an undeniable thrill in this new form of attention, even if it came from an unexpected source.
Reaching Brandon's nipples, Mr. Chen paused, his eyes locking onto the young man's face. He observed a blend of discomfort and intrigue etched there, which only fueled his determination. With a sly smile, he lowered his head and began to gently circle one nipple with the tip of his tongue, causing it to stiffen under his ministrations. Brandon inhaled sharply, his body responding involuntarily to the unfamiliar sensation, a complex wave of emotions washing over him.
"You see, Brandon," Mr. Chen murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper as he switched his attention to the other nipple, this time giving it a playful pinch before resuming his gentle licks. "It's not so bad when you allow yourself to experience these sensations. In fact, it can be quite... exhilarating."
As he continued to tease and tweak Brandon's nipples, alternating between soft licks and gentle pinches, Mr. Chen kept up a steady stream of commentary, each word designed to coax and reassure. "Your body is responding beautifully, Brandon. Just let go and feel. Embrace the pleasure I'm giving you. It's all part of understanding your own strength and sensitivity."
Brandon's breath hitched as Mr. Chen's skilled manipulations sent ripples of sensation through his chest, down to his abdomen, and pooling lower still. Despite his initial resistance, the thrill of being so intimately attended to by Mr. Chen began to override his reservations. The older man's words, combined with his actions, created a potent mix that was slowly eroding Brandon's defenses.
"That's it, Brandon. Good boy," Mr. Chen praised, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched the young swimmer's reactions. "You're doing wonderfully. Just relax and enjoy the ride."
Mr. Chen, his eyes alight with a predatory gleam, gently guided Brandon to lie down on the bed, instructing him to keep his arms behind his head. This position not only exposed his armpits but also accentuated the muscular contours of his chest and abdomen. "Perfect, just like that," Mr. Chen murmured, his voice thick with anticipation as he leaned in closer.
As Brandon complied, lying there naked and vulnerable, Mr. Chen resumed his exploration, deeply inhaling the scent of Brandon's pits before lavishing them with long, slow licks. Each stroke of his tongue was deliberate, savoring every nuance of the young man's scent and taste. Meanwhile, one hand found its way to Brandon's nipple, tweaking it gently between thumb and forefinger, while the other cupped and massaged his balls, applying just enough pressure to elicit a response without causing discomfort.
Mr. Chen, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light, reached for his mobile phone while continuing to lavish attention on Brandon's exposed body. With a few swift taps, he initiated a video call to Mr. Bunhead, who answered almost immediately, his face appearing on the screen with an eager expression.
"Hello, Bunhead," Mr. Chen greeted, his voice smooth and laced with a hint of triumph as he positioned the phone on the bedside so that both he and Brandon were in view. "I thought you might like to see what I'm up to with our young swimmer friend here."
Brandon's eyes widened in shock as he saw Mr. Bunhead's face appear on the screen. "Mr. Bunhead? What's going on?" he stammered, his body tensing involuntarily under Mr. Chen's continued ministrations.
"Ah, Brandon, my boy! It seems you've found yourself in quite the... educational situation," Mr. Bunhead chuckled, his eyes darting eagerly over the scene before him. "Mr. Chen has always been quite the mentor when it comes to exploring new experiences."
Mr. Chen smiled, his hands continuing their gentle caresses across Brandon's chest and abdomen. "Indeed, Bunhead. And I thought you, of all people, would appreciate the progress we're making here. After all, you've had your own... encounter with our young athlete."
Brandon's confusion deepened, his mind racing to process the implications of being discussed so openly by these two men.
Mr. Bunhead leaned closer to the camera, his expression one of feigned concern mixed with undisguised lust. "Now, now, Brandon. There's no need to be alarmed. Think of this as an extension of your training, just like Coach Thompson suggested. We're merely helping you explore different facets of your potential."
Mr. Chen nodded, his gaze never leaving Brandon's face. "Exactly, Brandon. Both Mr. Bunhead and I have only your best interests at heart. This is all about enhancing your performance, in every sense of the word."
Brandon swallowed hard, the weight of their words pressing down on him. "But why... why involve Mr. Bunhead in this? Why show him what's happening?"
Mr. Chen's smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Because, Brandon, sharing experiences can be just as enlightening as experiencing them yourself. And besides, Mr. Bunhead has valuable insights to offer. Don't you, Bunhead?"
Mr. Bunhead's eyes sparkled with excitement, his voice eager. "Absolutely, Mr Chen. I've seen firsthand how receptive Brandon can be to guidance."
Brandon felt trapped, caught in a web spun from his own trust and the manipulations of those around him. His body remained exposed, vulnerable under Mr. Chen's touch, while his mind grappled with the reality of the situation. "I... I don't know what to say. This is all so unexpected."
Mr. Chen leaned in, his voice soothing yet firm. "Just relax, Brandon. Let us guide you through this. You'll understand soon enough. Won't he, Bunhead?"
"Indeed, Mr Chen. Just go with it, Brandon. We only want to worship you," Mr. Bunhead almost pleaded, his eyes never leaving the screen, drinking in every detail of Brandon's predicament.
Mr. Chen chuckled softly, straddled Brandon, his hip miraculously recovered, held Brandons arms over his head and gently suckled on one of Brandon's nipples, causing the young man to gasp slightly. The sound of Brandon's involuntary response seemed to heighten the tension in the room, as well as the connection through the phone.
"Just giving Brandon here a little... attention. You should know," Mr. Chen said, his tone teasing yet assertive.
Brandon, caught in the unexpected situation, felt a rush of embarrassment and confusion. The realization that Mr. Bunhead was now involved, watching from afar, added another layer of complexity to his already tumultuous emotions.
His body tensed under Mr. Chen's ministrations, unsure of how to react to this new level of exposure and intrusion. "Enjoying the show, Bunhead?" Mr. Chen asked, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and dominance as he continued to tease Brandon's sensitive skin, each touch calculated to elicit a reaction.
Mr. Bunhead, unable to tear his gaze away from the live feed, nodded slowly, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could insert himself into this scenario more directly. "Yes, Mr Chen. This is... fascinating. Keep going," he urged, his voice low and filled with anticipation.
Brandon, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy and the realization that Mr. Bunhead was watching, felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He tried to protest, but the words caught in his throat as Mr. Chen continued his ministrations.
Mr. Bunhead, seeing the scene unfold, felt a mix of awe and envy. "It looks like you're really taking care of him. How does he look?"
"He looks magnificent," Mr. Chen replied, his voice thick with desire as he alternated between sucking and gently biting Brandon's nipples. "So strong and yet so vulnerable right now. It's quite the sight."
Brandon's mind raced, trying to process the situation. The humiliation of being exposed and manipulated while someone else watched was overwhelming, yet there was an undeniable thrill in the taboo nature of the act.
Mr. Bunhead's voice came through the phone, tinged with envy. "You lucky dog, Mr Chen. Make sure you savor every moment. And maybe, just maybe, you could share some details later?"
"Of course, Bunhead. We'll have plenty to discuss," Mr. Chen assured him, his focus never wavering from Brandon's increasingly aroused state. "Now, let me continue showing our young friend here how much we appreciate his talents."
As Mr. Chen resumed his intimate attentions, he glanced at the phone displaying Mr. Bunhead's eager face and then back at Brandon. "Do you like being watched, Brandon?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and seduction. "Your cock certainly thinks so."
Brandon's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal as he realized his body's involuntary response to the situation. The sight of Mr. Bunhead watching only added to the surreal intensity of the moment, leaving him feeling more exposed and conflicted than ever before.
Mr. Chen, with a sly grin, subtly repositioned the camera to capture an unobstructed view of Brandon's erect penis. The young swimmer's uncut cock was truly a sight to behold—a robust 7 inches in length, with ample girth that showcased each prominent vein along its length. The foreskin partially covered the head, adding a layer of sensitivity and allure. As Mr. Chen's pudgy hand encircled it, there was barely any space left between his fingers, testament to the sheer thickness of Brandon's member.
The tip of Brandon's cock glistened with precum, a clear droplet forming at the slit and threatening to spill over. The moisture added a sheen to his flushed skin, highlighting the contrast between the tender pink of his glans and the deeper hue of his shaft. Each involuntary twitch of his erection seemed to draw more attention to this intimate detail, making it impossible for anyone watching to look away.
Mr. Chen's touch was deliberate and lingering, his thumb gently rubbing over the precum-slicked tip as if savoring the texture and warmth of Brandon's arousal. "Such a beautiful specimen," he murmured, his voice low and appreciative as he continued to explore every inch of Brandon's exposed desire.
"Look closely, Bunhead," Mr. Chen said, his voice laced with pride as he showcased Brandon's manhood. "This is what we've been talking about."
On the other end of the line, Mr. Bunhead's breath hitched audibly. "Incredible... just look at that veiny shaft. It's practically pulsing with life."
Brandon, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal, shifted uncomfortably but couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. He watched as Mr. Chen reached out, his fingers wrapping gently around the base of his cock, causing it to throb even more noticeably under the older man's touch.
"See how responsive he is?" Mr. Chen continued, his tone almost reverential as he traced a finger along one particularly prominent vein. "Each vein tells a story of his strength and vitality."
Mr. Bunhead's voice was filled with awe. "Absolutely mesmerizing, Mr Chen. You were right; this is truly something special."
Brandon's face flushed deeper as he listened to their conversation, the focus on his most private parts making him feel exposed yet strangely empowered. He cleared his throat nervously, trying to find his voice amidst the intense scrutiny.
"It feels... strange having you both look at me like this," Brandon admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Mr. Chen chuckled softly, giving Brandon's cock a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "Embrace it, Brandon. This is all part of understanding your own power and allure."
Mr. Chen continued, his fingers tracing light patterns down Brandon's chest. "It's quite the turn-on, isn't it? Knowing someone else is admiring your strength and vulnerability. It's a powerful feeling."
"Look at how your body responds," Mr. Chen murmured, his eyes fixed on Brandon's hardening cock. "You can't deny the pleasure in this exposure. It's all part of understanding yourself, Brandon. "
Mr. Chen's commentary and the presence of the camera seemed to heighten every sensation, pushing Brandon further into uncharted territory.
Mr. Chen, with a sly grin, shifted his position to kneel between Brandon's legs, his eyes never leaving the camera that connected him to Mr. Bunhead. "Now, Brandon," he purred, "let's give Mr. Bunhead a real show, shall we?"
Brandon's heart raced as he watched Mr. Chen lean down, his mouth inching closer to his erect cock. The anticipation was palpable, and despite his initial reluctance, a part of him was curious about how this would feel.
"Mr. Bunhead, are you watching closely?" Mr. Chen asked, his voice muffled slightly as he took the head of Brandon's cock into his mouth.
On the other end of the line, Mr. Bunhead's was gasping. "Oh, I'm watching, Mr Chen. This is... incredible."
Brandon, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal, found himself unable to look away from the camera. He could almost feel Mr. Bunhead's gaze on him, intensifying the sensation of Mr. Chen's warm, wet mouth enveloping him.
"Talk to Mr. Bunhead, Brandon," Mr. Chen instructed, his voice thick with desire as he began to bob his head up and down, taking more of Brandon's length with each movement. "Tell him how it feels."
Brandon's voice was shaky, filled with a mix of emotions. "It feels... intense," he admitted, his eyes locked on the camera. "I can't believe you're watching this, Mr. Bunhead."
Mr. Bunhead's voice came through the phone, tinged with excitement. "Believe it, Brandon. And let me tell you, it's quite the sight. You are truly a champion."
Mr. Chen increased his pace, his hand gripping the base of Brandon's cock while his mouth worked expertly. "That's it, Brandon. Keep talking. Let Mr. Bunhead know what you're feeling."
"It's... overwhelming," Brandon managed to say, his breath hitching as Mr. Chen hit a particularly sensitive spot. "But there's something... thrilling about it."
"See, Brandon? There's power in your vulnerability," Mr. Chen murmured, pulling back slightly to speak before diving back down. "Embrace it. Let yourself go."
As Mr. Chen continued his skilled ministrations, Brandon's voice wavered with each gasp and moan, the sound carrying through the room and into the phone held by Mr. Bunhead. The camera captured every moment, intensifying the surreal experience for both Brandon and the eager spectator. "Brandon, you must feel so alive right now," Mr. Bunhead's voice crackled through the speaker, his tone laced with envy and desperation. "To have Mr. Chen's attention like this... it's something else."
Brandon, caught in the whirlwind of sensations, responded hesitantly, "It's... intense, Mr. Bunhead. I can't quite explain it."
Mr. Bunhead's breathing was audible, heavy with lust. "I can only imagine, Brandon. Seeing you like this, it's... intoxicating. You're letting yourself go, aren't you? Giving in to the pleasure?"
"I... I am sir," Brandon admitted, his voice shaky as Mr. Chen's mouth worked expertly on him.
Mr. Bunhead's voice grew more urgent, his desire palpable. "That's it, Brandon. Let us see how much you can take. How much you can enjoy."
Brandon's eyes flicked to the camera, feeling the weight of Mr. Bunhead's gaze. "I never thought... I'd be doing this, especially not with someone watching."
"But isn't it exciting?" Mr. Bunhead pressed, his voice a mix of encouragement and raw need. "Knowing I'm here, unable to touch but so desperate to be part of what you're feeling. It adds to the thrill, doesn't it?"
Brandon swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper. "Yes, sir it does. .."
Mr. Chen, sensing the conversation's impact on Brandon, increased his efforts, causing Brandon to arch his back slightly. "Tell Mr. Bunhead how my mouth feels on you."
"It's... warm," Brandon managed to say, his breath hitching. "And wet. It feels... good, Mr. Bunhead."
Mr. Bunhead groaned softly, the sound conveying his longing. "You have no idea how much I wish I were there, Brandon. To see it, to feel it... to maybe even join in. Keep talking, let me live vicariously through your words."
Brandon, caught between the physical pleasure and the emotional turmoil, continued, "He's... he's really good at this, Mr. Bunhead. arghhhh"
"That's it, Brandon. Give in to it. Let yourself feel everything," Mr. Bunhead urged, his voice thick with emotion. "This is about exploring your limits, testing your boundaries. And I'm here, cheering you on, even if from a distance."
As the intensity of the situation escalated, Brandon's mind struggled to keep up with the physical sensations. Mr. Chen's skilled mouth and deft hands as well as the knowledge of being watched by Mr. Bunhead created a potent mix that was both thrilling and deeply unsettling.
"Mr. Chen, I... I think I'm going to..." Brandon's voice faltered as he felt the pressure building within him, his body tensing in anticipation of release.
Mr. Chen, sensing Brandon's impending climax, pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "It's okay, Brandon. Let it happen. Show Mr. Bunhead how much you've enjoying this."
Through the phone, Mr. Bunhead's voice crackled with excitement. "Yes, Brandon! Feed Mr. Chen your hot swimmer seed. Choke him with your cum!"
Brandon's breath hitched, his body tensing as he felt the surge of pleasure building. "I... I'm cumming!!!!," he gasped, his voice strained with the effort to contain his impending release.
Through the phone, Mr. Bunhead's voice urged him on, filled with a mix of envy and excitement. "Yes, Brandon! Give in to it. We want to see you cum!"
With a strangled cry, Brandon surrendered to the inevitable, his body arching off the bed as he climaxed. His face contorted in pleasure and relief; each spurt of his release was accompanied by a grunt, not just for himself but also Mr. Chen and the eager eyes of Mr. Bunhead watching through the phone. The act of giving in to their desires added an extra layer of intensity to his orgasm, leaving him shuddering and spent.
As the waves of his orgasm subsided, Brandon lay there, panting heavily, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Mr. Chen gently wiped his mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he looked at the camera. "Did you enjoy the show, Bunhead?"
On the other end of the line, Mr. Bunhead's response was eager. "Absolutely, Mr Chen. That was... something else. Well done." With that, Mr Chen ended the call, promising to meet Mr Bunhead soon.
Mr. Chen turned his attention back to Brandon, who was slowly coming back to himself, the reality of what had just happened beginning to sink in. "You did wonderfully, Brandon. How do you feel?"
Brandon, still catching his breath, managed a weak smile. "I... I don't know. It was intense. I didn't expect any of this."
As Brandon sat up, still reeling from the intensity of his climax, Mr. Chen's hands gently caressed his shoulders, offering a comforting yet possessive touch. "Brandon," he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding, "your cum is delicious. It's important that you feed it to me regularly, anytime you feel the need. After all, we are neighbors."
Brandon looked at Mr. Chen, confusion and surprise flickering in his eyes. The older man's words were direct and unexpected, leaving him unsure of how to respond. Yet, there was a part of him that felt compelled to agree, influenced by the recent events and the guidance of those he trusted.
Mr. Chen continued, his gaze intense. "And remember, both Mr. Bunhead and I will continue to guide you, to be there for you in any way you need, especially with your studies. We're here to assist you, Brandon."
Swallowing hard, Brandon nodded slowly, his mind still processing the implications of Mr. Chen's words. "I... I understand," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. Despite the strangeness of the request, he found himself agreeing, drawn in by the sense of support and the unspoken promise of further experiences under their tutelage.
Mr. Chen smiled, pleased with Brandon's acquiescence. "Good boy. You're learning to embrace these moments, to see them as opportunities for growth. That's very important."
He helped Brandon to his feet, guiding him towards the ensuite bathroom. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and ready for whatever comes next."
Brandon felt a mix of relief and apprehension, knowing that his relationship with Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead had taken a significant turn. Yet, there was also a strange sense of anticipation, a curiosity about where this new path might lead him.
Next Chapter: As you know, when stories get into the later chapters, readership and interest gets thinner… let me know if you enjoyed, disliked or just read this. 😃
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