NIKOLAI
Kolya Jr. has been an adventurous whore since he got his first boner at the fresh age of five.
It was such a marvelous discovery when I found my then-wiener hard that I giggled with glee. Then I proceeded to run all over our house, dangling, pointing, and showing it off to anyone who crossed my path while shouting, “Look! I have a gun!”
Dad laughed his head off. Mom looked like she was going to either throw up or burst into flames.
Good times.
For me and my dad. Definitely not for my mom since she was covering my twin sisters’ eyes, ushering them inside, and telling me to get my weenie back in my pants.
I pouted as I muttered, “But my weenie really likes the air.”
Mom looked at the sky, probably to the invisible big bro up there, and when that didn’t work, she directed her gaze at the actual semblance of a real God in our lives. My dad.
After he laughed his ass off—five out of five sense of humor on that man, love him—he helped me pack a pouty Kolya away, and sure as shit, my dick had every right to be offended since his first show was put to a nonconsensual halt.
Dad told me that I actually couldn’t use my wiener as a gun. At least, not yet—see, told you that man has the best sense of humor, as expected of my dad—and stripping in front of my baby sisters is a no-no.
He also said the stupid rule where I couldn’t be naked all the time. Fucking social restrictions and all that bullshit.
At any rate, that was the official birth of Kolya Jr., or Kolya for short. Kolya happens to be the Russian diminutive form of my name, but it’s rarely used, and only by my very Russian grandfather, who snarls at the reality that Niko won the nickname battle a hundred to one.
And no, Grandpa doesn’t know I actually call my dick Kolya or I’d need to revoke my Russian card. And that’s no fun. I breathe vodka.
Anyway, ever since that boner incident, Kolya has become the sluttiest, most adventurous cock anyone would ever meet.
He’s resourceful, to put it mildly, and a flat-out whore if we’re being fucking blunt.
Part of his extended arsenal is being easy to satisfy. Give him a willing hole and he’s weeping in joy—literally.
So imagine my goddamn bafflement when he woke up today and chose the silent treatment.
I presented an especially sexually frustrated Kolya with his favorite flavors. At the same time.
A dick and a pussy? Fucking jackpot, if you ask me.
After the initiation, I got back to the Heathens’ mansion and shot three of my contacts a text to come and worship at Kolya’s altar.
All three of them replied, so what the fuck? A foursome sounded like fun, so I told them to come the fuck over, and they did, stacked with weed and booze, and one was chewing on a blue pill.
Not sure you’re supposed to chew on it, but I couldn’t be bothered and gave him vodka to help…uh…with digestion and shit.
Don’t ask me how I know those two guys and the girl. The girl is from school, probably. Again, don’t ask what happens at school. I’m studying business there, but I’ve barely attended any classes since I’ve been at college. As long as I keep my GPA up, thanks to my superior genes, nobody cares. Me included.
The two guys, anyone’s guess. I happen to attract a lot of attention—might have to do with Kolya’s extravagant magic cross piercing that many swear made them see heaven.
Or hell. Depending on their kink.
Also, it might have to do with how unbothered I am by any request. Once, a girl was like, “Choke me, Daddy,” and I nearly killed her. In my defense, she didn’t specify how hard I should choke her, so I went with the flow—the flow being maximum violence.
Another guy sent me a text saying, “Are you looking for a doormat? Because you can step on me any day and I’d bend over and take it.” So I did just that and stepped on him. What? He asked for it and, I kid you not, he jizzed all over my room. Then he did bend over and took it.
Fun times.
Last night, however, most definitely was not.
It was so far from fun, it gave me fucking whiplash.
I had three sexy-as-fuck people at my disposal and Kolya was playing hard to get like a virgin motherfucker. Which he’s not.
For the first time in my nineteen years of life, I couldn’t get off. Not when they offered their mouths, holes, and everything in between. In fact, I wasn’t even motivated to release Kolya from his least favorite confinement—my pants.
They soon forgot about me and turned to one another while I watched, sitting on the stairs and nursing a bottle of good ole vodka. It was a threesome of epic proportions that started with making out, sucking each other off, and both guys double penetrating the girl and fucking her senseless until she nearly passed out. At some point, they pushed her aside. Viagra boy clearly couldn’t get enough, so he bent the other guy over, fucked him, then nutted in his ass. Or I think he did. Because that’s the point where I fell asleep.
At the bottom of the stairs.
If that doesn’t tell you how desperate Kolya’s state of no fun is, I don’t know what would.
Not the sleeping at the bottom of the stairs part, because I swear to fuck my body can only lull itself to sleep on anything that isn’t a bed. It comes with my head’s fucked-up state of mind.
This is about the not-participating part. Usually, I’d be all over that shit, and, in retrospect, bringing the beautiful queer energy out of everyone. There’s a reason why people say yes whenever I shoot them a text. I’m a guaranteed source of crazy fun.
Last night, not only did I not fuck my way through multiple holes, but I was also bored.
Completely and utterly indifferent.
Like I was earlier, when the professor was about to give me head. Hot bombshell with luscious lips and everything.
Kolya was almost hard but didn’t want her lips anywhere near his goddamn annoying presence.
Fuck.
I walk through the door of the mansion after school and stop in the entrance hall, tug my T-shirt over my head, and throw it down. My necklace that Dad gifted me jostles free and I stroke the bullet that hangs from it before I let it fall to my naked chest.
There. Much better.
People should be thankful I wear pants. Fucking prude society could use a chill pill. I have a beautiful body and I would rather show it off instead of keeping it tucked away. The same applies to my monster cock. I’m usually hella proud of Kolya’s size and porn star-level performance, but today is not it.
I narrow my eyes on the half-tent in my pants. “The fuck is wrong with you, motherfucker?”
Is it all the fucking? No. Hell no. That’s what he thrives on. It’s why he chose to be completely cool with any hole. Endless options and all that.
Maybe I should extend those options… But to whom? I’ve been literally fucking my way through any and all of the population available at my disposal.
Let’s rewind.
What could’ve happened to trigger Kolya’s silent treatment? He’s been caught in this strange stage where he’s about to grow a boner but never exactly gets there.
Yesterday morning, I was coming all over an ass and a pussy, or was it two asses and a pussy? Anyway, I was a bit high at the time, so who knows how many?
What I do know, however, is that Kolya was definitely pumped up for the highly awaited event—the initiation. Punching people to near death? Holding power over their insignificant existence?
Fucking ecstatic.
Kolya was most certainly feeling himself and had the night of his dickish life, especially after…
A twitch rushes to my groin and I pause.
He was feeling himself more than usual when…
A reluctant, uptight preppy boy was gliding his firm ass all over him.
“Oh no.” I glare down at my pants. “Fuck no, you fucking fuck.”
He twitches again as if saying, “Fuck yeah.”
“The fuck are you? A masochist? He said he was straight. Told you to keep your nonsense away from him as if it were an insult.”
My dick doesn’t understand insults, since he has the moral compass of a used condom, and remains standing at attention like an eager kid in class.
“You need to get yourself fucking checked, dude. Preferably by an exorcist so they can get those demons out and shit.”
Now that I think about it, when I was falling asleep, I wasn’t seeing the hot threesome, but the up and down of a gorgeous Adam’s apple as he flinched, jerked, and swallowed thickly.
Fuck me sideways.
Kolya is definitely hard and in the mood now. Maybe if I get him the same flavor as the three from last night…
He flops down so fast, I curse his goddamned maker.
It’s me. I’m the maker.
“Fuck you right the fuck off, motherfucker,” I mutter.
I don’t fuck with straight guys.
At all.
Many of them have fragile egos and macho manly energy that pisses me off and propels me to sudden, impulsive violence. I prefer queers who are comfortable in their own sexuality, like myself, thank you very much.
The only time I hover near a heterosexual man is if he’s a lost bi-curious lamb who wants to experiment. In that case, I make it my mission to take him to heaven. Like an angel did to some prophet—don’t ask me what his name is; I can’t even remember mine half the time.
Brandon King does not belong on any of my lists of interest.
He’s too uptight and closed off, not to mention standoffish and arrogant. His entire existence should give me a serious case of erectile dysfunction.
Jesus fuck.
That guy could use a chill pill. Or a few. In fact, someone should shove the entire bottle down his throat and make him choke on it.
Fuck him and his back off and stop touching me.
I’m straight.Like fuck he is.
He nearly bounced on my cock and he sat there so prettily while I was nursing an erection of epic proportions for a whole five minutes. Not that I was counting or anything.
Or maybe I was. To prove his theory.
Straight, my ass. Or his, to be more specific—pun totally intended.
I should note that during that time, his sister walked by and he nearly lost his marbles, which is probably why he remained frozen for a long period of time, but I digress.
I’m completely uninterested in his mythical straight battle. Fuck that right the fuck off, if you ask me.
The reason I invited him to the initiation was solely to mess with his twin brother. The major asshole who leads the preppy kids in the Elites and thinks he could go head-to-head with us.
A few nights ago, Landon and I fought at one of my favorite places on the island—the fight club. I was so pumped to pummel that English prick to the ground in front of his wannabe fans.
But then Brandon showed up and stood there like the prince version of his brother.
I admit that I lost concentration because he looked so fucking agitated at the prospect of Landon being beaten to death, and I also admit Kolya appreciated the view.
He’s hot. And it’s different on him than his show-off, in-your-face brother.
Brandon has a quieter presence and carries himself in a total golden-boy fashion.
Slick brown hair, groomed face, tall and slim frame, but muscled. Yup, don’t let those preppy clothes fool you. Asshole has abs. All six of them. I counted them yesterday since I had nothing else to do with my hands. I would’ve preferred to let my hand go down a more fun path, but I doubt grouchy Brandon would’ve been thrilled.
Anyway…stop sidetracking. Now, brain. I mean it.
I almost lost that fight because Brandon got in the way. Side note, I don’t usually get distracted during fights because of this lame reason, I assure you.
So, naturally, I had to mess with Bran the way he dared to mess with me. And it so happened that the initiation was coming up and I couldn’t miss that chance.
Since he was so concerned about his idiot brother, I made up a whole drama about his participation. It was a shot in the dark. I really thought Brandon wouldn’t fall for it, since he’s this major snob who looks down on people like me from his high horse.
Imagine my fucking surprise when he walked right in like a lost lamb.
A straight lost lamb.