The four Ds

by BRK

Four close friends get away for a mountain cabin vacay, only for the environs to make them hornier than usual.

2 parts 8,132 words Added Apr 2024 Updated 22 Jun 2024 2,730 views 4.7 stars (10 votes)

Part 1: The Four Ds Four close friends get away for a mountain cabin vacay, only for the environs to make them hornier than usual. (added: 27 Apr 2024)
Part 2: Four Ds and Two Es Dante’s brother Enrique insists on experiencing the cabin’s effects for himself. (added: 22 Jun 2024)
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Part 1: The Four Ds

Dante pushed open the door and walked into the cabin, spreading his arms wide. “Voilà!” he said, taking in the spacious, if slightly dusty, oak-themed interior. “Welcome to Chez Cavazos, I guess.”

His friends came in behind him, looking around curiously at the high-peaked vaulted ceiling, the heavy wooden beams, and sturdy, comfortable-looking furniture, leaving the bags and coolers in the car to get later. “I can’t believe you’ve never been up here,” Darius said, crossing to the wide, stone-set fireplace and examining some small, framed photographs propped on the mantelpiece above.

Dante joined him and was surprised to see the pictures were all of more or less the same group of well-built shirtless men, arms around each other’s shoulders as they beamed for the camera. In addition to the cozy-looking photos there were a few other objets d’art along the mantel of a suggestive or even sybaritic nature, including a deliberately rough sculpture of two brawny men from the waist up who seemed to be melting into each other as they furiously kissed. Next to it was a squat totem of a monkey god cheekily grasping his arm-sized, very erect dick. “Me neither,” Dante laughed, and Darius gave him a shy grin from under his lashes. Dante had never even met the older second cousin who’d abruptly disappeared last autumn after arranging the bequeathal of his entire estate to Dante, but it sure looked like he’d had a fun life.

Dante’s pulse picked up a little as his exceptionally pretty, wrestler-built graphic designer friend tentatively held his gaze before finally turning back to the photo in his hand. Dante let out a silent breath, his skin feeling a little heated under his polo. He and Darius had known each other for years, but it was only lately that Dante had been asking himself what those sweet, black-cherry lips might taste like. Now, in this moment, the urge seemed almost irresistible. He decided to walk away for the moment. Patting Darius’s compact, bulky shoulder for a second, enjoying the brief sensation of warm, solid flesh through the thin heather tee, Dante headed back to close the heavy front door against the mild early spring evening, calling out, “So what do you guys think?” to the others as he went.

Dmitry was at the huge picture window taking up most of the far wall, his expression stone-faced as he stared out at the sun setting over the snow-capped mountains, bathing the steeply rolling forests between with a warm reddish glow. “The view’s not bad, at least,” he said grudgingly, as though it was the most that could be said about the otherwise dire and barely tolerable accommodations.

“Shut up, Grunk,” the other three said in unison, all of them chuckling. Dmitry snorted but couldn’t hide a tiny, sunset-red smile. The name traced back to some girl in high school who’d soured on Dmitry after making cow eyes at him to no avail for a whole semester; she’d gifted him with the nickname, a portmanteau of “grumpy” and “hunk,” and it had immediately stuck. It certainly fit him: he was exceptionally tall, calmly arrogant, icily good-looking, and he worked out his aggressions at the gym like clockwork. It seemed he had a lot of aggressions, which he addressed very thoroughly with lots of reps that yielded a slow-growing profusion of steel-hard muscle. The other three loved teasing him with the moniker, and Dante was convinced that Dmitry sometimes exaggerated his gruffness just to give them random opportunities to do so.

The only other nickname among the four of them was “the four Ds” for the whole group, with which Seth had gifted them via text a few weeks after Seth, Dante, Darius, and Dmitry had met sharing a row in a massive intro lecture their first year in college. When Dante had objected, quite reasonably, that Seth didn’t meet the “D” prerequisite for such a club, Seth had just sent a winky face. They’d all laughed (or lol’ed). Then came the drunken night a few months later where they’d all taken a long whiz out behind the DQ, and Seth had had a chance to prove the old adage that tall lanky guys had it best…

The “D” in question was in the living room area, looking around at the comfortable-looking, deep-set sofa and armchairs angled to face both the fireplace and the big window. He was nodding. “I like it,” Seth said. “If I didn’t have to commute to the hospital I’d live here. Warmer than I expected, though,” he added stagily, before whipping off the heavy university football shirt he’d been wearing and tossing it dramatically over the back of the sofa.

Any other time Dante would have rolled his eyes, but he was already feeling a little flushed, and Seth’s defined, sinewy torso with its long, firm, lightly marked abs seemed to amplify his heated arousal. Dante glanced at Darius, who seemed to be feeling the same. As if on a dare, they pulled off their shirts together like they had been practicing for some sort of Olympic synchronized disrobing meet, each expertly lofting their shirts onto the sofa back next to Seth’s.

Then they were all looking at Dmitry, who was eyeing them coldly—though something about the tinge of his pale skin around the neck told Dante he wasn’t any less affected by this hothouse mood of growing arousal than the rest of them. “C’mon, Grunk,” Seth urged, grinning widely at him as he slowly slid a hand up his belly in provocation.

Dante, for his part, had found his eyes dropping to Dmitry’s new-looking jeans, which seemed to be straining at the zipper. He licked his lips automatically. Dmitry, as they all knew from the DQ incident, was the only one of them who had “D” man Seth well beat in the phat cock department, though at times the surly fucker seemed to view his generously proportioned wang almost as a burden and an inconvenience. Sure enough, after looking wordlessly between them for a heated moment, he grimaced and angrily reached into his pants to straighten out his burgeoning erection.

I guess we’re all getting turned on, Dante thought. What the hell is up with that? The situation made him curious, but the prickle of anticipation he was feeling erased any impulse other than a need to go with the flow. They were all in the living area now between the sofa and the chairs, as if they’d drawn closer to each other without realizing it.

Dmitry abruptly gave them a sardonic smile and grunted, “Fine.” He began undoing his short-sleeved solid-burgundy button-down, to cheers of “Do it!” from Seth and “Yeah, nice” from Dante as a sliver of chiseled, pink muscle was increasingly revealed downward—first collarbone, then smooth, hard-walled cleavage, then rippling, stone-hard abs, finally punctuated by the head and a couple of inches of wide, stiff cock nosing past his waistband. Darius, maybe a little overwhelmed, took Dante’s hand as they watched, and Dante clasped it tightly, taking Seth’s for good measure on the other side. Once it was fully open Dmitry whipped off the shirt and threw it aside, blasting them with the close-up sight of a hard, muscle-packed torso so perfectly sculpted Adonis would have killed a satyr for it.

“Fuck!” Dante blurted out. He looked between his friends guiltily. “Jesus, when did you all get so hot? I’m hard as a fucking rock here,” he admitted. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his jaw by his ear before dropping onto his bare shoulder.

“Me too,” Darius said quietly, squeezing Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at him, and Darius added sheepishly, “I have been since we got here.”

“Damn right, we need to take the edge off,” Seth said, caressing Dante’s other wrist with his thumb. “Hey, let’s have a circle jerk!”

“What?” Dmitry said flatly. He made as if to step back, but before he could Seth reached into Dmitry’s pants and grabbed the larger man’s oversized wang. Dmitry froze, not quite suppressing a gasp.

“Uh, Seth, bro, I—” Dante started to say, as Darius’s hand squeezed his tighter—in alarm or anticipation, Dante wasn’t sure.

Seth reached over with his free hand and deftly undid Dante’s waistband button, sliding his zipper down before he knew it and letting out his extra-wide, flat-headed five-inch cannon. It was in Seth’s firm grasp before Dante could even draw another breath. “Commando, I like it,” Seth said. “C’mon, you guys do mine.”

Dante didn’t understand why he was feeling this overheated and aroused, or how his inhibitions and the usual barriers between them had suddenly melted away, but now that the circle jerk was already in progress and he was feeling the raw pleasure of Seth’s grip around his hard, sensitive prick it seemed almost perverse to object.

Sharing a quick glance with Dmitry, Dante reached out and popped the top fastener on Seth’s beat-up, knee-sprung 501s, then, each of them grabbed a side and pulled the button fly apart with a satisfying bup-bup-bup-bup. Behind, Dante’s very hard log of a cock was straining and flexing against tringle patterned boxer briefs. Dante and Dmitry pulled these down too, a little more awkwardly, and the jeans and briefs both slid down a little off Seth’s ass exposing a very hard, very straight, two-finger-thick erection only a couple inches shy of Dmitry’s raging 12-inch monster.

“Damn, Seth,” Dante said. He reached to take the beautiful succulent-looking cock in his hand, but Dmitry got their first, boldly gripping the mighty erection as if he were entitled to it. Dante smiled—there was plenty of room for a second stroker, fortunately. He wrapped his hand ceremoniously around Seth’s big prick and squeezed lightly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Seth said, returning the favor on Dante’s blunter prick as he looked across at Darius with a grin.

Dante looked over and huffed a laugh. Darius looked up at him and Dmitry with the most sheepish “come and get it” look he’d ever seen. Apparently, while he and Dmitry had been working on Seth, the shorter, darker-skinned stud had quietly undone his own chinos with his free hand and pulled down the fly, letting out his own very adamant erection.

Dante found himself gaping a little, surprised underneath his spiking, sweat-making arousal. At the DQ piss-off, Darius hadn’t seemed that endowed, but evidently he was a grower: though narrower than Dante’s his hard-on was substantially longer, more than halfway between Dante’s flat, uncut five-inch torpedo and Seth’s flat, neatly circumcised ten.

Darius was looking at him as though waiting for a reaction, as if there could be a better one than the bucking of his own cock in Seth’s slowly stroking fist (Dante realized with his flickering awareness that he and Dmitry were stroking too, rhythmically caressing Seth’s substantial erection). “It’s as hot as the rest of you,” Dante told Darius, who beamed back at him. Again moving together they reached for each other’s cocks, Seth pushing down making room for Darius to grip Dante around the head, while Dmitry grasped Darius’s longer, thinner tool.

At the same time, Darius took a spot on Dmitry’s enormous tool and squeezed, gasping at how much of his hand it filled.

“Hey! Not so hard!” Dmitry barked suddenly.

Startled, Darius jerked back, still gripping Dmitry’s cock so tight he wrenched it out of Seth’s hand—and completely off of Dmitry’s body!

Darius stared at the rock-hard, pulsing 12-inch cock in his fist and let out an “Ack!” before spasmodically letting go of the tool. It hit the handmade throw rug under their feet with a thud.

“Ow!” Dmitry exclaimed when it hit. He turned angrily on Darius. “You fucker, what did you do?”

Dante was, if anything, more aroused than ever, flooded with a craving for cock and unable to think straight, the air around him seeming thick and stultifying, filled with its own pleasure. The four of them went on stroking each other’s very hard tools as if that were more important than anything—except for Dmitry’s, of course, which lay twitching needily on the floor between them, like a sacrifice at the center of a demonic circle.

“Duude,” Dante said, looking up at his too-handsome, too-perfectly muscled friend in awe. “Dude, your dick comes off?!”

“No!” Dmitry said. To Darius he added, “Put—put it back!”

Darius, still gripping Dante’s leaking, eager prick, bent down and tentatively picked up the fever-hot, throbbing tool.

They stared at it. “Wait,” Seth said. “Wait. He said ‘ow.’” He turned to Dmitry. “You said ‘ow’ when it hit. You can… still feel it?”

Dmitry stared at the pulsing footlong hard-on in Darius’s hand as he held it up for them to see. Dmitry nodded, looking stunned.

“Darius,” Dante said urgently. “You have to try…” He didn’t finish, but left his mouth a little open, his tongue wiggling slightly—enough to suggest what he wanted Darius to try.

“Wait!” Dmitry warned, glaring at Dante. Darius, however, wide-eyed and flushed with warm, overwhelming need like the rest of them, could not resist. He drew the uncut monster cock up to his mouth and slid it between his lips. Dmitry lifted his chin and moaned loudly. Darius shivered and started full-on fellatio, increasing Dmitry’s groans and grunts of pleasure exponentially.

Dante suddenly knew he had to taste Darius’s cock—the cock he held in his hands. This was his chance. Tightening his grip, with quick pull and jerk he tried mimicking Darius’s actions from before. To his amazement, Darius’s quivering erection snapped free of his groin with a soft pop, and Dante had it in his hand—and then it was in his mouth, and Darius was grunting and moaning around the giant cock he was expertly fellating.

Dmitry, panting and grunting, glared at Darius and then at Dante. Before Dante realized what was happening, Dmitry reached over and shoved Darius’s and Seth’s hands aside, then angrily pulled Dante’s blunt erection with a yank. Dante, expecting a stab of pain at the separation, was shocked at how good it felt—not only was his cock pulling free almost like a mini-orgasm, but it felt deeply, intoxicatingly amazing for his cock to be free of his body, like a new kind of euphoric freedom no man had ever before experienced. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

He had just enough time to register and understand this carnal epiphany before Dmitry started licking and mouthing the head and upper shaft of Dmitry’s cock like it was a big ice cream cone he was teaching a lesson. Dante let out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure and doubled down on the blow-job he was giving Darius’s hard, pre-spitting cock as though it were Dmitry’s, as the two of them stared each other down.

“I guess I’m left to take care of myself,” Seth said with a grin. He did not sound even a little disappointed at the prospect of sucking himself off, Dante thought, amused. Experimentally, Seth gripped himself with both hands and pulled, twisting his prick very slightly. It came off in his hands with a minimum of effort. “Holy fuck,” Seth said, delighted. Adjusting his grip on his flat, middle-flaring ten-inch wang, he started going to town on it, sucking his detached cock with the relish of a fellatio connoisseur. It was hot just to watch, and as he looked around the circle he realized there was a feedback loop of pleasure leaping through them as they sucked, feeling not only the heady pleasure of blowing and being blown but an increasingly strong taste of everyone else’s two-layered pleasure as well, building up between them.

Dante was already close, and watching the others as they passionately blew the crazily aroused detached cocks in their hands drove him to the edge. The others were experiencing the same need to climax, and then suddenly it all burst free and they were cumming hard, spurt after spurt, and the overlapping sensations made it feel like he was cumming into Dmitry’s mouth and his own, and Darius’s and Seth’s, too.

The climax almost broke him, and as his knees weakened he threw his arm around Darius’s thick shoulders, relying on his sturdy strength. Panting hard, with his other hand he lowered Darius’s still-hard prick, not sure what to do with his.

He stared across at Seth, looking sweaty and very self-satisfied (literally, Dante thought), then at Dmitry, who seemed… defiant? Holding Dante’s gaze, he very deliberately lowered Dante’s wide and stubby, still-erect prick and shoved it against his own groin, lifting his boxer-briefs up to hold it in place. “Mine now,” he said, taunting.

Then they both gasped. Dante could still feel his cock, but now in a more ghostly way… like it was still a part of his being but belonged to someone else. Dmitry looked down quickly in dismay. “Shit, I can feel it, it merged into me,” he said. He looked up at Dante plaintively, all trace of his attitude erased. “Dante, I—” he started.

Dante cut him off with a smile, his heart still pounding from the rush of orgasm. “It’s okay,” he said, oddly unconcerned at the idea of his cock not being in his own crotch. “I’m okay.” Besides, he was pretty sure their cocks were still removable, though they’d have to see whether that was true only here at the cabin, or just in general.

“Let me try,” Seth said, looking at Darius, then Dante, his eyes falling to the long, slightly darker erection in Dante’s hand. Dante glanced at Darius, who shrugged, still a bit overwhelmed. Dante turned and handed Darius’s long, delicious, cum-slicked cock to Seth, who pushed it into his groin and held it a few seconds.

“Whoa,” Darius said suddenly.

Seth looked up at Darius, eyes wide and smiling. “Fuck, that feels good,” he said. He started stroking Darius’s slick cock, and he and Darius both whimpered in pleasure.

Fuck, Dante was going to need to cum again soon. He looked at Darius. “I want to see that big giant cock on you,” he admitted.

Darius looked at Dante, then at Dmitry. The latter was back to his usual arch expression. “This one’s mine now,” he said, pointing at Dante’s hard cock in his briefs.

“Okay then.” Darius did as Seth had, pushing the too-huge cock into his crotch, and then he and Dmitry both sighed. Darius started stroking the big, bobbing erection lightly, watching Dmitry’s pleasure while feeling it himself.

“I guess this one’s yours,” Seth said cheerily, offering Dante his own 10-inch beauty.

Dante took it, but oddly he wasn’t in any hurry to re-encumber his crotch—something in him liked the current set-up, sharing his blunt 5-incher with big muscley Dmitry this way. Instead, he looked over at Darius. He’d had a radical idea and wanted to act on it before he was thinking straight again. “Open wide,” he said.

Darius grinned and complied, no doubt figuring he was about to help Seth experience a disconnected blow job like they all had. His eyes widened comically as Dante shoved the big cock into his gaping maw base-first, holding it in place against the back of his mouth. A moment later Seth sucked in a breath, and Darius closed his eyes as he closed his lips around his new mouthcock and smiled.

Dante around looked at the others, who were staring at Darius with amazement. “C’mon,” he told them teasingly. “We shouldn’t let it get cold.” Not that there was any chance of that particular cock being bereft in any way for very long.

They all made out and stroked each other for a raw, sultry hour as the sky filled slowly with stars outside the picture window. Finally they came all over again, their orgasms overlapping even more than before. As they crumpled onto the big couch in a lax, still-aroused satiation, legs and arms atop each other in a flaccid heap, Dante made a mental note to make sure these trips to the cabin of suspicious arousal became a regular monthly event for the four Ds… and maybe a few equally horny friends who might want to join in as well.


Part 2: Four Ds and Two Es

Dante flinched as Enrique, his younger brother who was visiting for a week, burst into the decent-sized, white- and aqua-tiled bathroom in Dante’s apartment. The 22-year-old had his hand up a foot in front of his face in a comical and not entirely effective effort to obscure the bathtub tableau of his older sibling and his cute muscley boyfriend showering together behind the clear sliding glass.

“Okay, look, big bro, I know I promised not come in while you two are… you know, but you’ve been in here for half an hour, man, I really need to brush my teeth before bed and—holy shit what happened to your dick?!

Dante barely had time to register the utterly horrified expression on his brother’s face as he gaped at Dante’s nether regions and, specifically, how his meat and potatoes seemed to be, well, devoid of any meat before he was gone, leaving the door open and an Enrique-shaped hole in the steam.

Dante gaped at where his brother had been standing, then turned to Darius and smiled lopsidedly at him. “Guess I’d better tell him after all, huh?” Dante said, reaching behind him to shut off the steamy spray.

Darius hummed in agreement around the hefty, red-tinged hardon emerging incongruously from very kiss-bruised lips and reluctantly slid the glass door aside, reaching for a couple of thirsty blue towels hanging from a nearby rack and handing one to Dante. Said mouth equipment, of course, looked nothing like the immense pink 12-inch tool thrusting eagerly up from his groin, or the hefty brown scrotum pulled up tight and eager just below that.

Darius stepped out of the shower onto the air-warmed light-blue bath mat and the two of them started drying off, slowly and consciously easing back from their overlapping sense of intense arousal. Darius in particular was taking a while to come down, his back turned away from the lanky engineer who flicked his switch more or less on sight. They might have waited until they came again, but the four of them were still working on synchronizing their orgasms, especially during any second rounds that might crop up, so… finishing everyone off might take a while.

Their second climax of the night could wait until they’d sorted Enrique out. Dante just hoped he understood.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“I don’t understand,” Enrique said obstinately.

They were in the living room, the two older boys now properly dressed in shorts and tee shirts. Dante and Darius were on the couch; Enrique was pacing.

Dante glanced over at the very pretty longtime crush turned newly minted boyfriend seated next to him, looking scrumptious in a borrowed thin white tee that was slightly too small for his bulky, extremely cut wrestler’s physique. Darius had texted the others immediately after the shower and helped everyone calm down enough for Darius’s mouthcock to soften, along with the rest of their randy tools; even flaccid, though, the oral wang still took up a fair amount of space in Darius’s mouth. Because Dante had shoved it in root first on top of Darius’s tongue he had to fit both in there, and when it was soft his thick mouth-tool curled up on top of his tongue like a dog taking a nap on its comfy pillow. (Dante suspected that the anatomical adjustments that had retrofitted Seth’s cock as an innate and organic part of his anatomy had introduced a bit of extra interior volume to Darius’s mouth along the way to make everything work, though it was difficult to tell for sure from the outside.)

Bottom line, it was generally pretty tough for Darius to talk, soft or hard. Eating was easier than talking, fortunately, assuming he was flaccid, and certain foods were a lot of fun.

Darius caught Dante’s look and shrugged, passing the ball back to Dante. Dante nodded grimly. He was going to have to figure out how to get through to get through to Enrique, one way or another.

He let out a breath and took a moment examining his brother, as though to figure him out. The two of them sure looked a lot alike—fit but not buff, not too tall, able to wear anything and look good in it; dark eyebrows, sly-smiling, attractive in a “beautiful dreamer” sort of way. But their temperaments were not as well aligned. Their capacities were similar—his younger brother was flying through his civil engineering program with honors, just as Dante had done with electrical engineering four years earlier—but Dante knew “smart” didn’t necessarily mean “adaptable.”

“Kiko—” he began, keeping his tone level and nonconforantional.

“I don’t get it,” Enrique broke in, cutting him off. He stopped pacing and rounded on him. “How can cousin Santino’s cabin do…” He gestured agitatedly at Dante’s groin. “…that to you?”

“I don’t think it was the cabin,” Dante explained patiently. “Cousin Santino… There were a lot of weird artifacts from all these ancient cultures up there, just sitting around on the mantel, the shelves—”

“Weird artifacts?” Enrique repeated incredulously.

“Monkeys with giant dicks, stuff like that,” Dante said. “Collections. Weird mystical shit.”

Darius nodded in silent corroboration.

Enrique stood stock still in the sparse, ecru-themed living room, gaping at them incredulously. A hint of the curry Dante was slow-cooking on the stove around the corner in the kitchen in case they got hungry after the talk wafted lazily around them. “And so, what? You go up there with your three best buds and you pick up on this creepy, probably cursed artifact magic shit that’s just in the air in there for some reason because of monkey dicks or whatever. And you just start snapping each other’s junk off?”

Dante smiled. It was actually a fairly apt summary of that weekend’s events. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“And you traded them around?” Enrique said, as if this were the most impossible aspect of the whole story. “Like, what, preteen girls swapping scrunchies or something?”

Dante laughed. “Of course!” he said. “That was the best part.”

Enrique gaped at him. “The hell?!” he said. “Jamming each other’s hard-ons into your crotches and keeping them was the best part?”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine it turning out any other way,” Dante confirmed, still grinning. He looked at Darius, who nodded his agreement, and then back up at Enrique. “Four guys? Detachable dicks? I guarantee you. Every time.”

As he spoke Darius typed something in his phone and showed it to Dante. “Oh, yeah,” Dante said, checking the screen. “We were also feeling really super horny the whole time we were up there. The artifacts probably played off of that and intensified the magic.”

Enrique moved around the big, heavy coffee table and sat on it, facing Dante. “But—how did you end up without a dick?” he asked plaintively. “I’d, like, die without my hardware, bro.”

Dante held his gaze, focusing on what he wanted to say. “This is the part you’re not getting,” he said. “I still have a dick, Kiko. It’s just… attached to someone else at the moment. No biggie.”

Enrique’s expression was completely flat. “‘No biggie,’” he drawled.

“No biggie,” Dante insisted. “I still feel it, just like always. Well, basically.”

“‘Basically,’” Enrique repeated again. He was obviously still skeptical anyone might want to do such a thing—least of all his very passionate, if relentlessly monandrous, older brother. His eyes narrowed. “Who has it, anyway?” he asked. “Because that—” He pointed to Darius’s well-packed crotch. “—is not yours, big bro.”

Dante suppressed a smirk, wondering when Enrique had made a detailed enough study of Dante’s bits to recognize it on sight. Maybe he just didn’t see the family resemblance. “You remember my friend Dmitry?” he said. “I know you met him a few times when you were up at my college.”

Enrique stared. “Arrogant blond asshole? Works out a lot?” Dante nodded. Enrique’s eyes bugged. “That’s who has your dick?!”

“You don’t get it,” Dante said calmly. “It’s like… the four of us, we stimulate each other. When Seth sucks off Dmitry, he’s sucking my cock, but Dmitry and I both get off.”

Enrique looked uncertain. “For real?” he said. He scrunched his nose as if trying to imagine orgasming from someone else’s sex act in some other place.

“Okay, so picture that,” Dante continued doggedly. “Meanwhile, Seth is jerking himself off, right? While he sucks Dmitry? Except—” Dante jerked his thumb at his wrestler-hunk bf. “—Seth has Darius’s cock in his groin, all hard and ready for Seth’s eager hand.”

Enrique glanced at Darius, who nodded in confirmation.

“Seth and Darius both feel that orgasm,” Dante finished. “It’s amazing, bro. We’re all aroused, all riding the edge together, and we’re overlapping. Thrill on top of thrill. Blurring and blending. You feel your pleasure and someone else’s pleasure.”

Enrique frowned, still resisting Dante’s pitch. “But—someone else has your dick, bro,” he said stubbornly. “You could be anywhere and they could just start using it, and—”

He stopped, flummoxed, when Dante beamed at him, wiggling his brows. “Yeah, bro, exactly,” Dante said. “The other day? I was just sitting right here eating tacos, and Dmitry started wanking, all aggressive and sudden-like. Really going to town on it, you know? And then I was blowing my load, bro, all over his belly. So good. So fucking good. Surprise! Free orgasm, plus, no mess!”

Enrique’s eyes widened suddenly again, this time in outrage. “Wait! I was here for that!”

Dante winked. “I know.”

“Bro! Bro!” he gasped. “I just—I thought you just really, really liked those tacos!”

Darius barked a laugh, and Enrique turned on him. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s totally funny,” Dante countered, also chuckling. “You want to know what we were doing when you barged in on us in the shower?”


“I was sucking Darius’s mouthboner,” Dante confided relentlessly in a loud whisper. “Which is really Seth’s dick. And at the same time—”

“Wait. Mouth… boner?” Enrique looked queasy and aroused at the same time.

Darius nodded, tapping his cheek. “So, picture this. Up at the cabin. We were ‘trading scrunchies,’ like you said. And Seth handed me his fat ten-incher,” Dante explained. “But instead of jamming the thing in my own crotch, I had a wild thought and was like, ‘Why don’t I try jamming it end-first into Darius’s mouth?’ Just to see if it would take, you feel me?” He smiled at his extra-pretty, muscle-hunk boyfriend. “And… fuck, it took.”

“The hell…?” Enrique breathed. Dante could almost see the gears turning. “Wait. So, let me get this straight. Your muscle-boy Darius here has a cock that gets hard in his mouth, which… you suck off while you’re making out, I guess?” He looked between Dante and Darius, shifting awkwardly on the coffee table like he didn’t want to admit he found that hot. “Explains why your showers take so long,” he groused. “And that’s this guy Seth’s cock? He’s your tall, redheaded nurse friend, right?”


Enrique’s dark brows pulled together, glancing at Darius. “And you have…? Also?” he asked, nodding his chin at Darius’s crotch, which, even sitting down, looked like a serious package. Darius smiled and nodded. “So if it was just the four of you,” he mused to himself, running the calculations in his head, “that means that that gigantic tool I saw down there before, in the shower, must belong to…” He glanced at Dante cautiously. “…that fuckhole Dmitry?”

Dante golf-clapped his approval.

Enrique rolled his eyes. “Look, this is too crazy,” he said. “I’m a ‘see it and know it’ kind of guy. I’m not going to be able to wrap my head around this until I actually experience it happening. You got me?”

Dante shrugged. “We’re going up this weekend,” he said. “Darius loves the mouthcock, no joke, but even working from home he still has to make a client design presentation for his ad agency every once in a while, and… there’s one next week.” He considered his brother. How sexually experienced was he these days? How would he react to the carnal undertow of the atmosphere up there? Dante thought he definitely looked turned on from all the talk of cocks and cum, but in the mood he was in right now he wouldn’t ever admit it. “You’re welcome to join us,” he said. “Mi casa es tu casa, as the anglos say.”

Enrique mulled this over. “Maybe…” he said distractedly, his mind clearly full of male anatomy and equipment.

Dante smirked, unable to resist goading such an easy target. “Come on, what do you say?” he teased. “Want to swap big, messy hard-ons with your big bro?”

Enrique leaped up in alarm, jabbing a finger at Dante. “No,” he said firmly. There was a definite tent in his cutoffs, but no one called him out on it. “No. I’m coming, but—I mean, I’ll go on the trip, but—” Flustered, he turned and stormed off in the direction of the guest room, leaving Dante and Darius to smirk at each other.

Dante grabbed his heavy hunk of a lover and fell back on the couch, pulling Darius on top of him with an inarticulate squawk. “Now,” Dante said, sliding his hands over the cotton straining across that amazing V-shaped back, “where the hell were we?”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Seth had a late shift on Friday, so it was agreed everyone would drive up early on Saturday. Enrique was gone Friday night. The next morning he appeared next to Dante’s dew-covered black SUV with a friend from his engineering program, Evan, and a dangerous look that dared Dante and Darius to say a damn word about it. Enrique, for his part, was wearing his most flattering black tee shirt, his lucky cargo pants, and sexy black work boots. Dante and Darius exchanged a knowing look but didn’t offer any commentary—yet.

Evan was tall and lean, with a swimmer’s build shown off fairly well by his black polo and dark jeans. He had short, well-trimmed brown hair that leaned toward mahogany in the light, bright green eyes, and full lips that seemed to twitch habitually at the corners, as though he was always reacting to what was going on around him. His awed expression and the way he kept glancing down at first Darius’s very obviously packed nether region in his jeans, then at Dante’s smoother crotch area, let Dante and Darius know that the new recruit had been fully briefed on everything Enrique had learned and was eager to find out how much of it was true.

Dante found Enrique having been curious enough about the cabin’s properties to bring a friend to witness and/or experiment with vastly amusing. He aimed a saucy wink at his brother, just to get a reaction. As expected, this kicked up Enrique’s hostile glare a notch or three. Dante barely suppressed a chuckle as they finished loading the SUV with gear and supplies. Once they were set they all got into the car, clacked the doors closed, and got the party rolling.

Seth and Dmitry were already at the cabin when they arrived, making out aggressively in the living room. “Very dangerous,” Dante chided them with a smile as his party dropped their bags and coolers near the door next to the others’. “No fair distracting people when they’re driving.” He felt his skin heating with incipient arousal, and glancing over at Darius he saw his lover was smiling around the beginnings of a hardon. Evan stared at the protruding glans with fascination, boldly adjusting his own substantial bulge as he did so. Enrique was looking around at the interior of the cabin with mistrust, though the tent in his cargo pants revealed he was already rock hard.

Dante caught Dmitry’s ice-blue gaze and saw the mischievous intent there. Seth looked no more penitent. “Fuckers,” Dante laughed. He glanced around the group. “You guys want to eat first?” he asked, adding with a shrug, “We got all weekend.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starved,” Seth said. He and Dmitry found the coolers and bags of groceries and shifted them into the kitchen.

Dante noticed that Darius was watching him with a single eyebrow raised. He was now fully hard, as they all were, even newbie Evan, and several inches of fat, steel-hard shaft were pushing past his lips. Not exactly ideal for ham and eggs, he thought wryly. His footlong downstairs cock was just as spectacularly obvious, making an upward-reaching bulge in his pants that continued under his shirt.

Dante smirked and raised a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, looking around. On their earlier trip he had spotted something—ah, there it was. While Seth and Dmitry clanged pots and pans in the open kitchen and traded teasing remarks, Dante trotted across the living room and retrieved a shallow, glazed terracotta bowl he’d randomly spotted before, nestling half-hidden on a lower shelf behind the potted fig trees. The reddish exterior surface was decorated with dozens of detached pricks of all shapes, sizes, and states of arousal, which was what had made him think of the dish. The interior surface was a smooth, curved expanse of black. It was immaculate and uncracked despite the kylix’s obvious immense age. As he rested it in his hands it felt warm, and he almost fancied he felt a slight buzz to it, like it was saturated with the energies of arousal and pleasure, just like everything else here.

He brought the bowl back to the seating area in the living room and set it on the coffee table, and the other three drifted over. “Seth and Dmitry, you guys too,” he called.

Seth appeared, followed by his blond compatriot. “Better be quick, the pancakes are cooking,” Seth said.

Dante gestured at the cock-decorated bowl they were all now standing around. “Let’s start fresh,” he told them. “Everyone’s junk in the bowl. You too, Dmitry,” he added, raising a preemptive finger at the tall, grumpy hunk.

Dmitry looked like he had, in fact, been about to say “no.” Not for no reason: he had very obviously preferred Dante’s wide, stubby uncut five-inch torpedo to his own 12-inch monstrosity. Dante held his gaze, and after a moment Dmitry gave a curt “Fine” and turned to Seth. “You do it. I don’t trust him not to bruise it.”

Seth huffed a laugh. “His own cock?” he said, but they dutifully began undoing each other’s flies.

Dante turned to Darius with deep affection and bottomless lust, which he saw mirrored in his old friend’s warm brown eyes. “Shall I?” Dante asked. Evan and Enrique were watching raptly. They were like audience members giving all their attention to a magician’s illusion, but for different reasons—one wanted to enjoy it and the other was trying to spot the trick.

Darius nodded, eyes dancing. Dante grabbed the steel-hard prick protruding from Darius’s sweet lips and, with a now familiar gesture, twisted slightly counterclockwise and yanked. Seth’s ruddy, ten-inch pole came out easily, just as though Darius had been sucking on the base like a lollipop. From behind him he heard Seth give a soft moan—even as Dante himself felt hands around his own cock, then a tug of separation as his hard tool was detached from Dmitry’s groin.

Not wanting to push things toward sex just yet he set Seth’s red-tinged cock in the bowl, followed quickly by his own blunt tool. Darius’s larger, sepia-brown one, which Seth had been carrying, was dropped in next to it. “This feels weird,” Dmitry said, rubbing his cockless crotch through his jeans as he and Seth hurried back to salvage the pancakes.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise,” Dante called as he unzipped Darius’s pants and grasped Dmitry’s enormous, footlong battering ram.

“He didn’t say it felt bad,” Seth called back, laughing.

Dante snorted and finished removing Dmitry’s power tool, setting it in the bowl. “You good?” he asked Darius.

Darius worked his jaw back and forth and grinned. “So good,” he said. “Though… I already miss it,” he admitted.

Dante gave his lover’s mouth a heated look. “Me too,” he said, his voice sounding husky in his ears. He turned briskly to his brother, reaching for his pants in a way he knew would provoke a reaction. “Your turn!” he chirped.

Enrique stepped back, alarmed. “No way!” Evan looked between them, looking like he wanted a bag of popcorn.

Dante put his fists on his hips in a very camp pose. “Now, little brother,” he said. “Either you’re a part of this, or you can toddle on back to the city and forget all about it.”

Evan immediately began bustling at his own waistband. Enrique turned on him in irritation. “I’ll do it,” he barked. They moved to face each other, and Enrique carefully undid the fly of Evan’s jeans. Evan, more tentatively, did the same. Dante watched them, wondering how far the connection between them had gotten before today. Were they friends with a mutual crush, or had they fumbled around on study dates? Felt each other up at the malt shop? He snorted inwardly. Either way, the escalated levels of arousal everyone seemed to experience up here would certainly mark a new chapter between them either way.

Comically, they both turned at exactly the same time to look at Dante for instructions. He kept back his smile and said, “Twist left, then pull gently. Easy peasy.”

Doubtfully they did as they were told. Enrique grunted at the feel of Evan’s warm grasp, and Evan made a brief keening sound in the back of his throat that made Dante very curious to discover what other kinds of noises he made while he was getting off.

Then, they were staring in almost reverent astonishment as they held up each other’s flexing, leaking, incredibly hard erections. “Holy shit!” Enrique cursed, staring at his own hard prick in Evan’s tanned fingers. Evan, for his part, seemed to be at a loss for words.

Dante cleared his throat, and they seemed to recollect themselves. Quickly, they turned to place them gently in what was now a pile of throbbing, happy erections. Dante shivered as he felt his own prick being buried under the weight of Enrique’s and Evan’s tools. Enrique’s boner, as expected, was almost exactly like his own but an inch or so longer. Evan’s 9-incher was paler but veiny enough it almost had a lavender cast to the hard flesh, was most notable in the twenty-degree kink halfway up, making it look not unlike a boomerang. Evan caught him looking and smiled sheepishly, as though he were thinking, Yeah, I wonder what it would feel like up my ass, too.

Dante was thinking Evan might just get a unique opportunity to find out when his stomach growled. “Soup’s on!” Seth yelled. Dante led them back to the dining area, and they all sat down to eat. The increased arousal endemic to the cabin’s atmosphere seemed to have made them extra ravenous, too, and they fell in on Seth and Dmitry’s eggs, pancakes, and bacon with abandon.

For a while they just ate, but it wasn’t long before Evan started asking a string of eager questions. Did Dmitry really prefer having a stubby cock? The surly programmer’s icy blue glare somehow communicated that he had, very much, but he did not elaborate.

What was it like having a mouthcock? Darius was more forthcoming on this point, with lots of anecdotes (his relating the accidental discovery that spicy curry felt so good on his sensitive flaccid mouthcock it was like cumming while he was soft got them all laughing), though the bottom line seemed to be that he’d have to experience it for himself to really know.

Were there any side effects? Seth talked about the overlapping orgasms having different “flavors” because they came from different people; no one mentioned the most obvious impact, that they were hornier all the time and felt sexier, too. Dante had been afraid to check the mirror and find out whether his self-perception as more defined and more attractive was anything real (the cabin effect was insatiable and wanted him to have more sex?) or if it was all in his head. Darius sure looked buffer and harder, but he’d been working out like a fiend ever since the first visit. He said he wanted to look good for Dante, which had made Dante blush and spew precum at the same time.

“This is so amazing,” Evan gushed. Enrique had been watching him silently, and Dante guessed he was slightly unnerved by Evan’s quizzing of the group and how the questions jibed with ones he’d been more reluctant to ask. “I love it,” the newbie went on excitedly. “I love it! I can feel my dick throbbing in that bowl, nestling against everyone else’s. It’s like—it’s like—” Before he could say what it was like, something else seemed to break into his train of consciousness. “Hey! I just realized. Is it only dicks? Have you guys tried pulling off anything else?” He looked around expectantly.

Darius lifted his brows, halting a forkful of short stack. “Like what?”

Evan shrugged expressively. “I dunno. Arms? Heads?”

There was a moment’s silence as the other men all stared at him, dumbfounded. “You want me to twist off your head?” Dmitry asked silkily, after a beat. “I can do that for you, if you like.”

Evan obviously didn’t buy Dmitry’s tough-guy alpha act and grinned instead. “Okay!”

Dmitry smiled wider, like a puma spotting a tasty-looking hunter. “Deal.”

Dante chuckled and rose from the table, drifting toward the living room. The others continued eating. Evan kept asking yet more questions, and the others related their own experiences over the very eventful last two weeks. Dante, meanwhile, felt an unsettling need to check on the shallow ancient kylix full of thrumming, aroused cocks setting pertly on the low coffee table. Something had felt… odd as he ate, nudging at the back of his brain, and now he could see why.

“Guys,” he called sharply, and the others must have heard the edge of alarm in his voice because they all immediately looked over with concern.

“What’s up, babe?” Darius said. The look on his excessively pretty face suggested he already had an inkling of what was off. Maybe he’d been feeling it like Dante had, without quite making sense of what the sensations meant.

Dante looked back at his friends. “Guys,” he announced, “there’s more than six cocks in here.” He smiled nervously. “They’re… multiplying.”

2 parts 8,132 words Added Apr 2024 Updated 22 Jun 2024 2,730 views 4.7 stars (10 votes)

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