#so i imagine a well dressed man next to a bunch of sweaty half naked men trying to take a pic of the cup

[ratatatastic]

MORE SAUNA PICS HAVE BEEN DROPPED MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON THE WRETCHED

Sasha Cup Day | 7.31.24 (x)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

HOLD ME

Alexander “Tig” Trager x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: about suicide and drugs. Angst.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Your phone rings in the middle of the night, palming the nightstand sleepy to hook off the call.

“He—Hey, my sunshine…”

Pulling it somewhat away, you check the hour.

“Good god, Alexander… It's four”.

“Yeah, I'm so—sorry. I just wanna hear yo—your voice”.

“Are you drunk?” Rolling over the bed you used to share with him, you rub your eyes with two fingers leaving a heavy snort on air.

“More or less”. Chuckles by the other side of the speaker.

“I'm gonna han—”

“No! Listen, lis—listen… Listen, how was your day?”

“Alexander, I'm tired. And I was sleeping”.

“I kno—I know. I'm sorry, baby”.

Everytime he calls you by that pet-name gives you chills. You still in love with him, after almost seven years with that man and all its ups and downs. It's been six months since he fucked up what you had together and it's the first time he calls you, even if you have seen him before at Teller-Morrow, sometimes, when Jax had needed you.

“I'm sorry f—for everything I've done to you”.

Your heart is racing so fast that you're starting to think it's going to jump off of your chest.

“I hurt you and you didn' des—deserve it. You're the love of my life. I'll alw—always love you and I want yo—you to remember it, okay?”

That sounds bad. That sounds pretty bad. Sitting up on the bed and turning the light on to take away the sheets, you place your feet on the floor walking close to the chair where your clothes are.

“Hey, Tiggy, listen. You've revealed me, uh?” You're trying to keep calm, because you have never heard him talk like that. “Where are you? I've actually had a ba—”.

“Shh… It's ok—okay, baby. Don't worry”. Hearing some coughs while you're wearing a pair of jeans, supporting the phone between your ear and your shoulder, you try to find the keys of your car. “I just ho—hope that you can find som—someone who loves you as I do… But never hurt y—you as I did”.

“Tiggy, come home”.

“Go back to sl—sleep, everything is go—gonna be okay”.

Before you can say anything else, he hangs up the call. You try to call him again but the phone is off. Running to your car, you type Jax's number by heart impatiently, turning on the engine.

“What's up, (Y/N)?”

“Is Tig there?”

“No”. He just say.

“Did you fight?”

Silence. Nothing. No words.

“He called me. Drunk. Telling me… things that sounded really bad, Jax. We need to find him”.

You can hear a snort.

“I beg you, Jax. Help me to find Tig”.

“Check the cabin, Chibs and me are on our way to his house. Call me back”.

Throwing the phone above the copilot seat, your press the gas as hard as you can. You're praying all you know to reach on time, before he can do something stupid. And the road looks like it's longer than never, even if you're driving over the speed limit. Lucky there's no police to stop you. A bunch of possible ideas dance in your head, which worse than the last, knowing well that Jackson should told him something about all the bad things he did. Starting by your relationship. And you were conscious that he wasn't well after leaving him. Tig just collapsed after understanding what he had done.

Car headlights illuminate the wooden facade and the black motorbike parked next to the porch. Stepping out of the car faster as you can, your legs burn running towards the door. You hit it with your palms, screaming out his name, for some long minutes. But there's no answer. The windows are covered by the curtains, disabling the view inside. Going downstairs out of the porch, you run again to the backyard, checking the other windows in case they're unlocked. Nothing. Wrapping your fist in the hoodie you're wearing, you hit the glass of the back door, hard enough to break it and slide your hand inside to open it.

“Alexander! Alexander! Tig!” You shout desperate turning all the lights on.

He's not there, but you find empty bottles of whisky lying on the carpet and some white dust scattered on the table, close to a small picture of both. Together. He's breaking your heart more painfully than six months ago.

“ALEXANDER!” You scream again running all over the cabin, going upstairs and stumbling an instant along the way.

All the doors are opened, peeking into each room till you finally find him. Your heart stops. Swallowing saliva you take a step with a hand raised to him. Tig is lying on the bed with the gun barrel pointed at his left temple.

“Tiggy… pull it down”. You whisper, trying to calm him in some way.

“No… No… Leave, baby…” He sobs loudly, shaking his head as the tears are running down his cheeks. “Leave, please…”

“I'm not leaving. Pull the gun down”. You take another step closer to him. Just two more and you can reach his feet.

“I do—don't want you to se—see me like that”. The man cries out somewhat loud. “Leave!”

“I'm not leaving, Alexander! Put the damn gun down!” You shout at him losing your mind. “Do you think this is the best way to fix it?!”

“I don' wan—wanna hurt you anymore”. Shaking his head again, he puts his gaze away from you.

“You're doin'et now”. You assure trying to breathe calm, leaning above the bed in slow motion by your knees, sitting on your heels. “I can't… live without you”.

Slow, so slow, you raise a hand straight to him.

“Give me the gun, my tiger”. You beg looking for those blue eyes you can die for.

He hesitates, finding yours in the middle of the dark, nodding somewhat gently. Looks like an eternity, an agonic one, watching him moving his hand close to yours till the cold steel touches your palm. You hold the heavy gun, locking it and throwing it to somewhere over the floor. His crying becomes louder and more bitter, as you crawl the mattress next to the Son'. By a side, you hold his neck wrapping it with your arms and forcing his head to rest on your chest. The mental breakdown that it's hitting his whole tensed body opress your breath, feeling him trembling under your grip.

“I'm so sorry, baby… I'm so sorry”. Tig bewails licking his chapped lips holding on the arm it's surrounding his throat.

You know he needs to treat himself about his alcohol addiction. That's the shit that always gets him in trouble. The same shit that fucked up what you built together through the years. Kissing dearly his head, you pull him closer, with the same pain that it's squeezing his heart like yours.

“Lemme take you to the shower”. Using a soft tone of voice, you get up from the bed with extreme care tangling your fingers with the longest.

He nods again, trying to put on his feet and supporting half of his weight on you. Placing an arm on your shoulders, you walk step by step, slow, to the bathroom some meters away from the main room. Turning on the light and sitting him down on the toilet, you begin to undress him starting by the sweaty shirt smelling like whisky. Continuing by his boots as Tig rests his back on the marble wall, you pull them by a side to unzip his jeans. So, when he's already naked, you help him to sit inside the bathtub using the cold water to wet his body. The man curls his knees against the chest, surrounding it with both arms and resting his head on it. He's not crying anymore, being somewhat shocked in complete silence.

When you think it's enough, you turn off the tap leaving some soft caresses on his back and kissing his kiss again. Getting up of your knees to grab a big towel hanging on the door, putting it in your shoulder so you can help your, yet, husband to lift his heavy body up. Wrapping him into the fabric, he gets out of the bathtub sitting back on the toilet.

“Stay here, okay?” You ask him caressing his cheek, as he nods with the head down. “I'll be back in a minute”.

Walking downstairs you call Jax, enough seconds to tell him you found Tig. Not how. Not where. Not how long ago. Only that you found him. Hanging up the call, you come back to the bathroom. The man still in the same position you left him. Making him kneel in front of the toilet, you open it.

“Open your mouth”. You just say, tucking two fingers in it until you press his throat.

Sometimes you ask yourself who else could do something like that. You love him too much to let him die. It's not his time. And of course, it's not the way. After several retching, he vomits.

“Throw it all, Tiggy”. You mutter pressing a hand on his abdomen and the other, after cleaning it on your own shirt, supporting his forehead.

He coughs some times, and smells pretty bad, but you should do it. Not as if it were an obligation, but a promise you made to him, even if he didn't fulfill his. Leaving him some seconds, you put the plug locking the sink to let the cold water run and fall on it like a cascade.

“Come're”. You whisper this time, getting him up and closing the tap.

He sinks his face inside it, breathing the water enough to clean his nostrils and his throat, until he drowns a little. Drying him with another towel, looking at you sad and distraught. Turning him by his shoulders and guiding his steps back to the room, as if he was a statue, Tig having a sit on the edge of the bed lets you dress him with a clean pair of boxers.

“Lie down”. You ask him putting a hand on his chest, to make him do it. And when you're about to come back to the bathroom, he holds your wrist.

“Don' leave, please”. He begs you with a broken tone and a painful gesture because the effort.

“No more drugs, nor alcohol”. You sigh, closing your eyes for a second feeling his fingers touring your skin till he tangled them with yours.

“I'll do wha—whatever you ask me to”. Cleaning his throat as he coughs again, pushes you closer. “I don' wan—wanna lose you again”.

You sit on the bed, turning above him to rest your free palm on the other side. Leaning forward over his chest, you leave a soft kiss on the man's forehead, pulling back some black wetted curls.

“You are the on—only thing I have loved in li—life. Nobody else. Noth—Nothing else. Only you”.

“I know”. You just say, pulling yourself away to lose yourself on his ocean eyes.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Sitting at the table and having a spoon full of Fruity Loops, you have the box in the other hand reading the clues for the crossword. It's a sunny day of a June morning and you're enjoying your free weekend in complete silence. Till the main door gets opened, followed by heavy steps crossing it. Tig appears in the kitchen with a hug smile draw on the corner of his lips. But there are no words, turning around the table and placing himself by your back. With a hand supported on the wood, the man puts somewhat like pocker red chip between the bowl and you. Looking at him a little confused and a raised eyebrow, you pull down your gaze again, taking it with two fingers.

“One year”. He just say with somekind of happiness in his voice.

He infects you that big smile on his face, sitting by your side and resting an arm on the top of your chair.

“'Am clean”. He adds then, poking the chip softly.

You can't believe a whole year passed by after that tragic night, when he almost ended up with his life. Jax told you to leave him at the clubhouse, but you knew it was the worst idea ever. So you brought him to the house you shared for seven years, hoping that it would help him to heal and redeem himself for all the wrong he did. He stayed at the closest room towards yours, being by his side. You fight with him the need he had of getting high, of getting drunk; forcing him to empty the bottles and throw the drugs inside the toilet before moving with you, to your house. And you also forced him to assist to every party SOA had. No whisky, no beer, no cocaine, no weed and no sex. Nothing for a year.

“I wanna make the right thing with you”. Tig says freeing your hands to hold them with his. “Give me a chance. A last one. No compromise. Just… think 'bout it and tell me whenever you want”.

Leaving a sigh and pulling away your eyes on nowhere, you end up nodding.

“Okay, but…”

“I'll not”. He interrupts you before you can finish the warning.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man IX

Chapter: 9/28

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo's next shift felt like the longest one he'd ever experienced, his eyes constantly drawn to the clock as he counted down every individual minute. He was just desperate for this day to be over, he wished he could just sleep through it all, so that he could finally see George again. He even went to bed early for the first time in his adult life, just to hurry up the process, but he lay awake for hours in shameless excitement, just imagining how the following day would go. He didn't care about the new suit, or two, that George was going to buy him; as much as he appreciated his generosity, they could've had the most mundane thing in the world planned and he'd still be just as excited.

The following morning he tried to have a lie in, to wake up as close to 1 as possible, but around 9 he had the sad realisation that he was going to have to get up and fill the time. He decided to drum for a couple of hours, giving him enough time to shower and get ready for when George arrived. That was the plan at least, but at 12 o'clock almost on the dot there was a knock at his door. Luckily he had taken a break from drumming otherwise he wouldn't have heard it. As he made his way through the hall he stopped in front of a mirror: he looked an absolute state. His shirt and hair were clinging to his skin with sweat, his face all red from exhaustion. He cursed George for being early, but cursed himself more for cutting it so close; he had said 1-ish after all. Ringo opened the door tentatively, revealing a very happy looking George dressed yet again in a fine suit, Ringo wondered if he'd look as good as him after today but he knew that wasn't possible. When George saw the state Ringo was in, it only seemed to make him happier.

"Is this a bad time?" George chuckled, he had his arm leaning against the door frame "You did remember that I was coming today didn't you?" Ringo thought he detected a hint of panic in George's voice, but he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, you're just a bit earlier than I thought you'd be. I've been drumming the past few hours and haven't had a chance to shower." Ringo explained embarrassed, the cold air from the outside made his sweatiness all the more obvious.

"Don't apologise, it's a good look." George teased "Are you gonna let me in, or?"

Ringo stepped aside immediately, practically jumped, and George sauntered into the hallway, looking around in inspection.

"Nice place." He said, despite only seeing the thin coridoor.

"You don't have to lie, it's a bit of a dump really. Nothing like the fancy pad you've got." Ringo chuckled and started walking through to the living room "I'll just pop into the shower quickly and get dressed, just make yourself at home."

George walked further into the room, surveying it in a way that wasn't condescending but curious "Why don't I join you?" He grinned and Ringo's eyes widened.

"What?" He stammered.

"I'm just kidding." George smiled innocently as he sat down on the sofa, but his eyes tokd a different story.

"Oh... Right. Well I'll just be a minute. Help yourself to a drink or something." He called behind him as he hurried up the stairs.

Seeing George in his house was strange, as though he was really beginning to become a part of Ringo's life. Seeing him in fancy restaurants or his posh flat was different, like it was part of a separate world, but now it felt real.

Ringo had one of the quickest showers he'd ever had in his life, drying his hair rapidly under his towel and rummaging around for something half-decent to wear. He held up a black jumper in front of his chest as he stood next to the mirror, he couldn't remember the last time he'd put any thought into what he wore. As he lowered his head to examine the slacks he'd picked out, he saw George in the reflection leaning on the doorway.

"Maybe you don't need the suit after all." George purred, looking at Ringo from behind and seeing him completely naked.

Ringo yelped, turning around and concealing himself with the clothes as much as he could. George walked further into the room, settling down onto Ringo's bed, he felt increasingly nervous as he thought about how dirty his sheets were - dirty with the remnants of his fantasies about George.

"There's really no need to dress up, you're gonna have to strip down when we get to the tailor's anyway." George lay down flat on the bed, and it made Ringo blush to see his face on those pillows "Just make sure you're at least wearing boxers. A knob in the face isn't the best way to make a first impression."

Ringo chuckled but still felt nervous, he didn't feel ready for George to see him naked like this even though he had once before, feeling his surveying eyes just made him so nervous. George seemed to be able to read Ringo's expression, he pouted for a second before climbing off the bed and busying himself with pictures and other knicknacks on the other side of the room. Ringo used this opportunity as best he could, pulling on his clothes along with his nicest pair of boxers - which wasn't saying much. When George turned back around he gave Ringo one of his dark glares, like he wanted to eat him alive, and it made Ringo feel drunk.

"Ready to go, then?" George asked, fixing his hair in the mirror.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Ringo laughed, trying to sort out his sloppily dried hair as best he could.

"Great." George grinned, grabbing Ringo's hand and rushing out of the house. The sudden contact was intimate, and it made Ringo gasp to feel George's slim fingers pressed against his own.

As they exited the house, Ringo looked around suspiciously as he wondered if it might look peculiar at all for him to be leaving his house with such a man. He knew he was being ridiculous, they would've just looked like any old friends, but the shame he felt inside him couldn't help but make him nervous.

"Now, can we take my car this time or are you still worried I'm gonna kidnap you?" George gestured to his car which was parked across the street, it was far nicer than Ringo's.

"No clue why you'd wanna kidnap me. The police would probably thank you for it." Ringo chuckled, walking over to George's car to signal his agreement.

"Oh, I dunno... I could see some benefits in having you bound and gagged all to myself." George grinned mercilessly, and Ringo was very pleased that he could hide his growing excitement behind the car. Why did that excite him? He'd never even thought about things like that before, that stuff was for freaks. But his mind couldn't help wandering, images of George tying his wrists together and having his way with him, being unable to shout out or even protest. It made Ringo feel hot, and he had to compose himself before getting into the passenger's seat.

"I've only just realised, you're wearing your rings." George hovered his hands over Ringo's fingers, just close enough but never touching "I like them."

"Thanks." Ringo said bashfully "Never feel quite the same without them."

"Now let's go and get you looking even more handsome, if that's even possible." George winked as he started the car, and they began to drive down his road.

The drive to the tailor's wasn't that long, but it once again brought Ringo to a part of town he wasn't familiar with. It felt like a different city entirely, with the streets all pristine and ludicrously expensive shops dotted on every street. Ringo didn't even feel the desire to window shop, he knew he could only dream about buying some of the things that were on offer. During the journey, Ringo couldn't help looking back over at George, who remained mostly focused on the road ahead of them but every so often their eyes would meet and Ringo's breath would stop. How was George able to do so much to him with just a look? They didn't talk much, everything Ringo wanted to say he wouldn't dare to, but his mind couldn't even focus on anyhing else. He wanted to ask George to kiss him, to touch him, to drive him back to his so they could just have their way with one another. But he didn't. The bravest thing he could do in that moment was stare at the other man, that took courage enough.

When the car stopped outside the tailor's, George once again rushed out so that he could open the door for Ringo. He remembered how nervous he had felt the last time this happened, like George was running off to his accomplices who were all planning on murdering him, but now he felt a different kind of nervous. The sinking realisation of how much George liked him only made his own feelings harder to deny. He passed George a small smile as he stepped out of the car and looked up at the shop in amazement.

"You ever had a suit fitted before?" George asked as they walked up to the front entrance.

Ringo scoffed "'Course not."

"Well it's all very simple. He'll take you into the back room and take your measurements. Then he'll ask you a bunch of stuff about what kind of suit you want, if you don't know the answer I'll be just outside." George smiled reassuringly, holding the front door open so that Ringo could step inside.

As they entered, a bell rang throughout the shop, and soon a short, old man appeared from behind a curtain to greet him. He offered George the typical celebrity-like greeting that Ringo was becoming so accustomed to. He regarded Ringo on the other hand rather peculiarly, as if he could smell the poorness on him. Ringo told himself that he was just imagining things as the man guided him to the back room.

It had gone exactly as George had explained, although at no point did Ringo have to strip down to his underwear which he was very relieved about. Every so often the tailor would ask him something, like what kind of tie he would want or how many buttons on the jacket he would like. At first Ringo thought he would just blag his way through it, but when the questions become more confusing he didn't want to risk messing it all up and had to call George in a few times to help out. George always replied in a very suave manner, as he always did, but he'd always pass Ringo a reassuring glance before leaving into the other room. Every time this happened, Ringo felt the tailor getting more and more annoyed with him but he didn't really care, he didn't have much time for these snooty types anyway.

When they finished, the two of them walked back into the main room to find George reading a newspaper in one of the chairs, his leg was resting atop the other which really accentuated how slim they were, Ringo certainly made a note of that. The tailor beckoned George over to the desk, seemingly glad that he didn't need to deal with Ringo anymore, where they shared a quiet conversation. Ringo saw George writing a cheque, and he was glad he was too far away to see the amount for he knew it'd made him feel guilty.

"So." George began, walking back over to Ringo who was looking around confused "I'll come and pick it up in a couple of days, then I can drop it off at yours on Thursday."

"God yeah, Thursday. I need to make sure I get that off work." Ringo chuckled, he was relieved George had mentioned the day again or else he might've forgotten.

"Oh, well. If its too inconvenient you don't have to come. Just consider the suit a gift." George said with that sad looking taking over his face.

"Don't be stupid. Of course I want to come. Think I'm gonna pass up a chance to see your dance moves?" Ringo smiled and it instantly lifted George's mood.

They walked out of the shop then, George holding the door open for the older man once more.

"I'd love to take you back to mine, but I've got some stuff I need to take care of. I'll drop you off o'course." George smiled sweetly as he climbed into the driver's seat again.

Ringo felt a little disappointed at this news, but a part of him always felt a little relieved when he was avoiding alone time with George; his feelings and thoughts were still at war in his head, and anything George would do to him back at his place would only complicate things further.

"That's alright, I should probably fit some drum practice in before it gets too late." Ringo hid his inner dialogue as he put on his seatbelt.

"I'd like to hear you play some time. Are you in a band?" George asked, his eyes glued to the road.

"No, not anymore. I used to be but it all kind of fizzled out. I've always wanted to pursue my drumming a bit more, but I've never really had the money or the time." Ringo explained, trying not to focus on George's tight grip on the steering wheel.

"Maybe I could help you out. We've got quite a lot of connections, and more money than sense. If I put in a good word about you I'm sure there'd be something." George

"Really? Wow, that'd be great. Thanks, George." Ringo felt a little taken aback, with all the troubles he'd been facing regarding his relationship with George he'd almost completely forgotten about George's 'job'.

"It's nothing really. I'm sure you can find some way to repay me." George smiled devilishly, his sharp teeth poking out from behind his lip, as he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel to rest on Ringo's thigh.

Ringo inhaled sharply at the touch, George lightly ran his palm up and down his thigh before giving it a tighter squeeze. George pulled his eyes away from the road for a second, relishing in the mixture of panic and pleasure on Ringo's face, then pulled his hand away and placed it back on the wheel.

"Sorry, I shouldn't tease you. But if we get started on that, I won't be able to stop, and I can't afford to be late." George's voice was low and sultry, and Ringo had to squeeze his eyes together to calm himself.

It wasn't long before they were back outside Ringo's house, and yet again George rushed over to the other side of the car to open the door for Ringo.

"Such a gentleman." Ringo joked as he climbed out onto the street.

"Only when you want me to be." George whispered in his ear as he leaned down to close the door.

Ringo shuddered at the words, and stood awkwardly in front of the taller man, looking up into his eyes and at his soft lips. He wanted to kiss him goodbye, but there was no way he was going to risk it in public, especially not right outside his house. George seemed to be thinking the same thing, he smiled sadly before walking back to his side of the car.

"So I'll see you Thursday? Will probably be quite early, I'll call you to let you know." George said as he leant on the top of the car.

"Thursday it is." Ringo smiled as he walked up to his house. "Bring your dancing shoes!"

"Only if you promise to wear those rings. I can think of a few uses for them." George spoke quieter, but Ringo still worried that someone might overhear them and he felt panicked.

"Ha- Yeah I will do." He called back as he hurriedly unlocked his front door. When he turned around to close it behind him, George was still looking at him longingly. He held up his hand to say goodbye and George just nodded, finally getting into his car and driving away.

Every time he was away from George, he felt himself letting out a heavy sigh of relief. All the tension between them could finally be released, and he felt somewhat exhausted. He walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on and smiled when he saw the bouquet of roses sitting on the counter. Ringo felt extremely lucky that George had taken such a shine to him, because he was clearly the spoiling type. Ringo had never grown up with much, and he lived with even less now, he had never expected to be eating at fancy restaurants or being decked out in the finest suits. While it still felt pretty alien to him, and he supposed it always would, it was nice to experience it through the generosity of someone else.

He thought about George's words from the car journey home, about repaying him, and Ringo tried to think of something he could do. He didn't have a lot of money, certainly nothing compared to George's wealth, and he wasn't particularly crafty or inventive, so he struggled to think of anything. Then he remembered George's hand on his thigh, and he couldn't help but think that when they had spent the night together, it was only Ringo that had been satisfied. He felt a little disappointed in himself, almost rude, as much as he knew there was no chance he was ever going to reciprocate anything in that moment, that had to change.

All this was still so foreign and new to him, but he tried to think about whatever a girl would do to him in order to make him feel good. His mind battled with the idea of giving George a blowjob, he wasn't sure if he was prepared for something like that. Then it raced to raunchier things, like letting George fuck him, and Ringo couldn't deny that it made him hot just thinking about it. Wouldn't it hurt? He'd never met a girl who was ever up for doing anal, not that Ringo was ever that bent on doing it, and he wondered why. Maybe it was painful, dirty even. He just wished there was some way he could learn about it all, to just wake up one day and be an expert on all things gay, because he didn't want to continue being so awkward and hesitant around George.

If what George said about after the wedding was true, then Ringo certainly had to be prepared for that. And in that moment he got an idea, at first he dismissed it because it seemed to absurd, but it kept rushing back to him. He didn't want to risk ruining his first time with George because he was too scared, because he just wasn't ready. He had to at least try it, just once. Maybe he'd discover he didn't like it, and then maybe all these weird feelings would just go away entirely. He just had to know, had to feel what it was like to have something up there.

[discovering-sex-blog]

Chapter 1

Denise Chapman found a seat at the rear of the bus, in the very back row. She was thankful that the bus wouldn't be crowded. Only about thirty kids would be making the trip to the state fair, and this huge old bus had room for twice that many. Most of the kids were already crowded together in the seats in the front and the middle of the bus. With luck, she'd have the back of the bus all to herself and the trip down to the state fair would be pleasant instead of an ordeal. She'd brought along a half-dozen new teen-romance novels to read. She hoped to get lost in a good story and completely block out this trip she'd been forced to take by her parents.

"You need to socialize more," her mother was always saying. "It's not normal for a girl your age to spend all her time with her nose in a book or doing her chores. You need to meet some boys, to go out on dates, have some fun."

It did no good to tell her mother that she enjoyed doing her chores, that more than anything she enjoyed reading her romance novels, that she much preferred the boys in her books to the flesh-and-blood boys she went to school with. The boys in her novels were all so chivalrous, so non-threatening. The boys at school, on the other hand, were crude and dirty-minded. The flesh-and-blood boys had only one thing on their minds - how to take advantage of a girl every chance they got. And real boys all carried that hard weapon between their legs, that masculine appendage that gave Denise the shivers even to think about. She didn't dare mention to her mother that she was scared to death of boys, and her mother wouldn't listen to her excuses.

So now she forced to go on this darned old trip to the state fair with a bunch of Young Farmers Club kids she didn't know. For her own good, according to her mother.

Her twin brother Tim was up front somewhere, gabbing with some new boyfriend he'd made a few minutes ago. All the other kids had paired up, mostly boys with boys and girls with girls, although a few boys and girls had taken seats together and already looked ready to start necking. The boys and girls were all eyeing each other, and Denise knew that by the time the bus arrived at the state fair grounds sometime early tomorrow morning every girl except herself would be paired up with some boy with a tented crotch. And God only knew what would happen in the barns at the state fair, where all the kids would be spending their nights, sleeping with the animals, and probably acting like a bunch of animals.

"And where do you think you're taking that mutt, young lady?" said the bus driver, his voice booming through the bus and silencing all the kids.

Denise looked up front, along with all the other kids. A blonde girl wearing skin-tight shorts and a bikini halter had just entered the bus, leading a large black dog by its leash. Denise recognized the dog as a black Labrador and even from the back here she could tell it was a male.

The girl tugged on her long blonde hair, some of which fell over the front of her shoulders and onto her half-naked tits. Her tit-cups hardly captured more than her cherries.

"I'm bringing him along," the girl said. "Isn't it all right if I bring him along? I didn't think it would cause any problem." She spoke in a pouting tone, puckering her lips. She balanced on one bare foot, rubbing the toes of her other bare foot up and down her tanned calf.

"I'm not supposed to let any animals on this bus," the driver said. He was a fat, middle-aged man in a gray uniform, and he was sweating heavily in the summer heat.

The blonde girl leaned over, petting her dog on the head. Her tits bulged as they dangled and nearly escaped from their tiny cups. "But he's such a good dog. You won't even know he's here."

The driver gawked at the girl's tits as if he were hypnotized by them. "Well, I don't know -"

"Please, sir, he won't be any trouble at all."

The girl leaned close then, as if she were going to kiss the driver. Instead, she whispered something into his ear.

The driver flushed, streams of sweat running down his chubby cheeks. "Go on," he said. "But you'll have to keep him at the back of the bus. And we aren't making any pit-stops for him. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," the blonde said, smiling as she began to lead the dog up the aisle. "He won't be a bit of trouble sir."

The boys nearly fell out of their seats to get a closer look at the half-naked blonde as she paraded up the aisle, her tits wobbling.

Denise almost panicked. For a moment she had the urge to jump out the window. The blonde was coming straight toward her. She sat there frozen and helpless, however, as the blonde sat down right next to her.

"The old pig," the blonde muttered under her breath for Denise's benefit. "Sit, Romeo," she said to the dog, and the Lab obediently planted its black haunches on the floor.

The driver yanked the door lever and the bus door sealed itself with a sucking noise. He started the bus. Without bothering to turn around toward the kids, he started shouting. "Now listen here, ladies and gentlemen, and listen good. It's four o'clock now, and I'm supposed to deliver you to the state fair before midnight. That means we're gonna be making just two stops, one at seven and one at ten. If you've gotta go, you just hold it - it won't kill you."

Several kids snickered.

"And I don't want any trouble," the driver continued. "You don't give me any trouble and I don't give you any trouble. I'm not being paid to be a chaperon or a babysitter. My only job is to get you kids down to the state fair. So just don't hassle me and you and me won't have any problems."

A few kids shouted: "All right!" Several other kids applauded. The driver rammed his shift lever into gear and the bus roared as it started forward. As the bus gathered speed, the kids began talking faster and louder among themselves and soon the bus sounded like a school lunchroom inside.

The blonde turned to Denise. "I'm Peggy, what's your name?"

Denise told her.

"Sexy name," the blonde said. "And this handsome boy is Romeo." She stroked the dog's head.

"Nice dog," Denise said. She felt tight and uneasy.

"You don't know how nice," Peggy said, giving Denise a suggestive expression. "I mean, Romeo's a real special boy."

Denise smiled, almost giggled, mostly out of nervousness. She had no idea what Peggy was hinting at, nor did she want to know. She picked up her book from the seat beside her and opened it.

"What's that?" Peggy said.

Denise showed her the cover of the book.

"Please Let Me In," Peggy said, reading the title. "Hmm, sounds pretty interesting. So, you like dirty books. Well, so do I."

"It's not a dirty book," Denise snapped. "It's a romance. There's nothing dirty in it."

Peggy looked stunned for a moment. "A romance, huh? That's one of those books where all the good stuff happens between the lines. It's all there, but you just have to use your imagination a little more to find it."

"I'd like to read it now, if you don't mind," Denise said, and she shoved her nose into her book.

Her eyes traveled along the lines of print, she turned the pages, but nothing her eyes saw registered in her mind. She wasn't reading, just going through the motions of reading. How could she read with Peggy just about sitting in her lap and with that big hound gazing up at her with those moony eyes? She was uncomfortably hot, too. All the windows were open and the wind whirled through the bus, but it was a hot, humid wind that failed to cool her off.

"Christ, it's hot," Peggy said, as if reading Denise's thoughts. "My skin is sticking to the seat. What I wouldn't give for a nice cool stream to go skinny-dipping in right now. Do you like to go skinny- dipping, Denise?"

"No," Denise said, offended that Peggy had suggested such a thing.

"I do," Peggy said. "We've got a nice private stream on our farm. Me and Romeo go up there just about every day during the summer. A lot of the neighbor boys come up there, too. Sometimes it gets pretty wild."

Denise didn't say anything. She didn't know for sure what Peggy meant by wild, but she imagined the big-titted blonde dipping down into the stream, as a dozen red-faced farm boys watched her.

"Hey Denise, give me a few of those candy bars you brought along."

Denise looked up to see her twin brother looking down at her. She was a little shocked to see that Tim had taken off his shirt and shoes. All he wore now was a pair of threadbare jeans that fit him like a tight skin. His sun-bleached yellow hair resembles the tousled mane of a lion. His eyes moved away from her and roved up and down Peggy's obscenely clad body.

Denise shot her hand down into her overnight bag and pulled out three or four candy bars, which she thrust up at Tim. "Here."

The boy reached for them without looking, wrapping his fingers around them as he ogled the blonde. "Thanks," he muttered.

As he stumbled barefoot down the aisle to join his new friends, he glanced over his shoulder a few times - at Peggy.

"Cute," Peggy said, watching him. She turned to Denise. "Is his equipment pretty nice?"

Denise felt herself flush. "I don't know what you're talking about. He's my brother - my twin brother. I don't know what you're talking about."

Peggy grinned. "Lucky you. Your brother, huh?"

Denise sighed with exasperation and buried her face in her book, trying to block out everything around her. She couldn't read, though. She was too riled up. The trip was ruined. Peggy would not leave her alone. The heat was unbearable. She could smell the dog, along with the scent of sweaty teenagers.

She peered over the seat ahead of her. She couldn't see too many of the other kids, but she was certain that she was the only person on the bus besides the driver who remained decently dressed. The boys she could see all had their shirts off, the same as Tim. Most of the girls wore the scantiest shorts and had rolled their T-shirts up under their tits to make their bellies and backs bare. Every girl and boy she could see were barefooted. They were all sweating, and the bus smelled like a high-school locker room.

"He had a nice bulge," Peggy said, as if to herself. "I bet he's really hung. I'd love to see him without his pants on. All girls should be so lucky to have a twin brother like that."

Denise refused to acknowledge that she'd even heard Peggy. Her heart was pounding and she felt as if she would suffocate, trapped between Peggy and the wall of the bus. The worst part of it all was that Peggy seemed to be able to see into the deepest, darkest parts of Denise's mind. The truth was, Denise knew what Peggy was talking about. The truth was, Tim was hung like a horse. Denise spied on him every chance she got, watched him piss in the barn yard, watched him sneak out behind the shed and jack off, followed him and his girlfriends into the woods and watched from secret hiding places as he fucked them.

Tim terrified her. That huge cock he wielded between his legs horrified her. How could any girl endure the torture of being fucked by that big cock? And yet, as much as Denise was terrified she was fascinated, she was excited, she was in love. All the boys in the romance novels she read had Tim's face, Tim's body. She envied every girl Tim had ever fucked.

"Wanna change places?" Peggy said. "So I can sit next to the window for a while?"

Denise agreed, thankful to be out of her corner at last.

Peggy slid Denise's overnight bag out of the way on the floor and pressed her back into the corner, leaving one bare foot on the floor and plopping the other one up on the seat. The wind coming in the window grabbed her hair and pulled it out the window where it flew in the breeze like gold streamers.

Denise moved away until she was sitting in the center of the long rear seat of the bus and could look straight down the aisle. She pushed her overnight bag out of the way and allowed the black Lab to move into the space between her and Peggy. Peggy had her legs spread, and the dog sniffed the crotch of her shorts.

"I can't take much more of this heat," Peggy said. "I'm about ready to strip completely." She reached under her tits and shoved her fingers up under the cups. She pushed up, and the tit-cups slipped off, letting her large tits fall out and jiggle. The string halter hung around her neck like a necklace.

Denise couldn't believe it. She just stared at Peggy's naked tits. The cherries were very large and full of erect bumps. The nipples stood up like fingertips.

"Don't worry," Peggy said, grinning mischievously. "Nobody can see me here behind the seat. If anybody starts coming back here, let me know, huh? Except for maybe your brother. I wouldn't mind giving him an eyeful."

Denise was speechless. She watched with increasing disbelief as Peggy unsnapped and unzipped her shorts and lifted her ass and legs to slide them off. Peggy wasn't even wearing panties. She dropped the shorts on the seat and settled back down with a sigh, spreading her legs so her left foot rested on the floor and her right foot on the bus seat. She had a very hairy blonde pussy that opened slightly as she spread her legs, revealing the wet pink meat between the furry lips of her cunt.

"Oh, that feels good," Peggy mumbled, curling her toes sensuously. Then she reached between her legs and pulled open her cunt, dug her fingers into the spongy cunt flesh and hauled open the hairy pussy flaps to reveal her worm-like clit and her seething fuck-chamber.

"Peggy, oh God!" Denise muttered, so shocked she couldn't think of another word. She watched a few trickles of clear fluid leak from Peggy's fuckhole and dribble onto the black vinyl bus seat.

The black Lab let out a small whimper and lapped up the cunt juice from the seat. Then he sniffed Peggy's open crotch as if it were the best thing he'd ever smelled. Even Denise could smell Peggy's cunt now - that pungent, musky female scent she'd smelled so many times coming from between her own legs, that smell that always managed to permeate her own panties after she'd worn hem only a few hours.

"Make love to me, Romeo," Peggy moaned. "Lick me, lover boy."

Her toes curled as the dog mashed his wet muzzle to her open pussy as if he wanted to fuck her with his snout. As he started to lick, growling quietly, Peggy lifted her bare ass off the seat, thrusting her pussy at him, her eyes rolling drunkenly as she fed him her dripping cunt.

Denise was sure she must be dreaming. At any moment she thought she'd be waking up from this nightmare bus trip and this unbelievable scene before her. Her subconscious mind was surely causing all this. Over the years she'd had dirty fantasies about getting her own pussy licked by an animal, especially by a dog, but she'd buried them deep in her subconscious, ashamed of herself completely. Now these suppressed memories were surfacing.

"Oh, Romeo, you lick so good!" Peggy breathed, rotating her loins as she rubbed her open pussy against the dog's fat, slithering tongue.

Cunt juice dripped from Peggy's crotch, splattering on the black vinyl seat. The smell of pussy was becoming stronger, and Denise began to feel a little dizzy, almost high on the aroma.

I've never smelled anything in a dream before, Denise realized, and she looked down the aisle, beginning to believe this wasn't a dream at all. In the seats closest to the back, girls and boys were necking. French kissing. The boy's had their hands on the girl's cunts, on their tits, and the girls were squirming as if trying to get away. By leaning forward, Denise could see that one girl had her hand inside a boy's pants and was jerking it as the boy kissed her and played with her tits under her T-shirt. Most of the boys seated with boys and the girls seated with girls had stopped gabbing with each other and were watching the boys and girls who were making out, shouting dirty comments and poking fun. The bus driver focused straight ahead on the road, ignoring the kids completely.

Denise almost jumped as someone stroked her hand. It was Peggy's hot toes.

"Play with my foot," Peggy whispered. "Lean over and suck on my toes. It drive me crazy." She gasped as the dog lapped up and down her cunt slit.

Denise just stared in shock, unable to believe any of this. Despite the very real smell of cunt in the air, this had to be a dream. It just had to!

"Come on you little bitch," Peggy hissed. "Suck my toes!" She clawed at Denise's forearm with her toenails.

Denise didn't know why she did it. Maybe because she was scared out of her mind. Maybe because she was so weak with shock that she would have obeyed anybody's orders, performing like a zombie. Whatever it was, she slid as close to Peggy as she could. Peggy raised her leg, pulling her knee toward her voluptuous tits. Denise took hold of Peggy's naked foot and started to lick and suck the blonde's wiggling toes.

"Oh baby, yessss!" Peggy hissed. "Oh God, this feels good. Lick me, eat me, suck me!" Peggy sounded as if she'd lost her mind.

Denise thought she'd pass out. The scent of cunt down here was suffocating. And she could smell the dog, too. The dog kept growling quietly and grunting as he licked. His tongue slurped obscenely. He sounded as if he'd never be able to get enough of the taste of Peggy's seething cunt.

"Oh God, I feel tingles all the way up in my asshole!" Peggy moaned. "My cunt's gonna melt. Oh shit, this is great! Keep sucking my toes, bitch. It makes the feeling that much better"

Denise drooled all over Peggy's foot. Peggy's toes tasted salty. The scent of hot cunt excited Denise. She'd never really smelled a girl's cunt from so close before. In the locker room at school there was always that fain aroma of cunt in the air, the mingles cunt-scents of all the girls, but it was nothing like this steaming scent pouring out of Peggy's excited pussy. The smell almost made Denise want to take a taste of Peggy's cunt.

"I'm getting close," Peggy whispered. "Oh I wish it would last, but I wanna come, too. I need that feeling. Oh God, do I need that feeling!"

Denise slithered her tongue between Peggy's toes, chewed on Peggy's bare foot. She was beginning to enjoy doing this. She didn't want to have to stop. And she knew Peggy was talking about when she said she wanted to get that feeling. She loved that feeling, herself, loved to jack herself off until her toes curled with that raw, melting sensation of orgasm. One of her darkest secrets was that she liked to jack off, that she jacked off six times a day sometimes. She couldn't get through her romance novels without jacking off at least once every chapter, sometimes twice. Always when the handsome, chivalrous boy brushed his lips against the heroine's flushed cheek in one of those novels, Denise would manage to bring off her young cunt in seconds.

A slick pool was forming on the seat under Peggy's wiggling ass, and Peggy rubbed her ass in it, sliding on the seat.

"I'm so hot!" Peggy breathed. "I'm so fucking hot! Oh, I wanna come!"

Denise watched the dog's tongue slither into Peggy's gaping fuck-cavern like a snake sliding into its hole. Peggy's pussy appeared top open up more and more as the dog licked her, and her gaping pussy quivered and contracted, sucking at the dog's tongue from time to time.

I wish that were me, Denise thought. I wish that was me sitting there getting my pussy licked by that big dog. Oh God, that must feel good!

She sucked hard on Peggy's sexy toes, inhaled the scent of Peggy's cunt, watched the dog's tongue fuck in and out of Peggy's seething cunt. And she realized that her own cunt was on fire, was throbbing maddeningly, that her panties had pulled up like a gag between her swollen pussylips and the material was working up and down in her cunt slit and against her clit as she rhythmically squeezed her legs together. Her loins whirled inside with hot tingles and she moaned out loud.

Peggy was humping, driving her crotch against the dog's muzzle, fucking herself on his slithering tongue. Her toes curled in Denise's mouth.

"Suck my toes!" Peggy moaned. "Lick my pussy! Oh God, I'm gonna come!"

She came with a final explosion of hot cunt juice, which ran out of her pussy and dribbled onto the bus seat. Her body jerked rhythmically and she gasped with each spasm. Her toes clutched madly, nearly tearing the inside of Denise's mouth.

Denise bit hard at the spasming girl's hot toes. She clamped her own legs together so hard that her thigh muscles almost cramped. An itchy tension mushroomed inside her own pussy, her toes tingled in her shoes, and she started to writhe with orgasm, nearly blacking out as the hot sensations surged through her cunt.

It feels so good, Denise thought. It just feels so good! This was the first orgasm she'd ever experienced while doing anything with another person, and there was something hotter and more intense about it, something more satisfying than any other orgasm she had ever felt.

She squirmed on the bus seat, working her legs against each other, sucking on Peggy's toes, nearly passing out as the sensations pulsed through her loins and her brain. She slid her hand down, rubbing it in the warm fuck-slime that had run out of Peggy's cunt, and she couldn't help sniffing it. Then she spit Peggy's toes out and tasted Peggy's slick cunt juice.

The pussy juice was tart and sweat. It tasted like the fluid that came from her own cunt. She'd never produced so much of it though. Maybe if she got licked off by a dog, she would. She lowered her lips to the seat and lapped up the cunt juice until the dog started lapping it up, too. Then she sat up, suddenly horrified by what she'd been doing. It was as if she'd temporarily lost her mind.

As she straightened herself, she realized that she'd glimpsed something, something she had to get a look again. She leaned to the side again slightly, peeking under the dog's black-furred abdomen. His prick was standing up out of its sheath - red and wet and quivering. What shocked her was not that the dog had a hard-on, but the size of the Lab's cock. His cock looked to be five inches long, maybe six - the size Tim's had been a few years back, before it had surged in size like a growing cornstalk. She'd never seen a dog with such a thick and long cock.

"Hung like a horse, isn't he?" Peggy said, sitting up straighter. "When a girl's got a hung dog around, she doesn't always have to go chasing after the boys to keep her satisfied." She gave Denise a dirty grin as she played with her own tits.

Denise shook her head, unable to believe Peggy, unable to believe the size of the dog's cock, unable to believe what she, herself, had just done. She looked up front.

A girl was leaning out into the aisle, her eyes rolled back, her hair dangling toward the floor. A boy was clutching her, his hand down her pants and pumping as he apparently fucked his finger inside her cunt. More boys and girls had paired up now and were sharing seats. Half the kids were engaged in necking or kissing or groping, Denise expected at any moment to see a boy rip off a girl's shorts, pull out his stiff cock, and ram it up her cunt right there in front of everybody. Things were getting out of hand, but the bus driver just stared straight ahead, driving them down the highway.

"You look a little lost," Peggy said. "Like this is your first trip to the state fair or something."

"It is," Denise mumbled.

"Lucky girl," Peggy said. "It's always best the first time. Ain't that right, Romeo?" She stroked the Lab's head.

Denise watched in stunned silence as Peggy caught the dog's cock between her bare toes and started to jack him off.