Go Fuck Yourself

GO FUCK YOURSELF
By Rob Rosen
(Men. Date Unknown – 2004?)

“Greg? Greg Spivey?” asked the man.

Technically no, he wasn’t Greg Spivey, but for some odd reason people were always confusing him with this unknown person. 

“Yes,” answered John, who was not Greg. “I’m Greg Spivey.”

In the past he had always said that he wasn’t; which usually had the effect of making the other person uncomfortable and embarrassed. He wasn’t in the mood to go through all that, so he answered in the affirmative. Besides, he was starting to wonder whom this Greg person was that bore such an uncanny resemblance to himself and seemed to be so well known, albeit always by men.

“Don’t you recognize me?” asked the man.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling myself today. Give me a hint,” answered John. 

His heart started to race. Lying was never his forté. Still, he did feel a bit excited at the prospect of fibbing to this complete stranger. Other than rare moments like those, his life was blandly unexciting. Besides, the guy was kind of cute.

“It’s me Stan. Stan Gilmore from Haversham Avenue. Remember? We used to live down the street from each other a few years back.”

“Oh Stan. Yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. You know it has been awhile. You look different.”

“Older,” Stan grimaced.

“Yes, older. We’re all older, right?”

“Not you, Greg. You look exactly the same.” John blushed; though, truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was being complemented or this Greg fellow was. 

“Thanks Stan. Well, it was good seeing you again. Hopefully it won’t be so long next time,” John said, and started to walk away.

“Nonsense,” Stan said, grabbing John’s arm. “Here’s my card. Let’s get together next week and catch up on old times.” He gave John a sly wink and then handed him the card.

“Oh… okay. Sure. Why not?” John reluctantly agreed and pocketed the business card before making a hasty retreat. 

“Next week!” Stan shouted to John as he crossed the street. 

John nodded and waived before picking up his pace. He didn’t turn back, just in case Stan decided to catch up to him and chat some more. Lying was on thing. Extensive deceitfulness was beyond him. Besides, the look on Stan’s face seemed sort of manic and John had always tried to steer clear of the crazy ones.

Still, once he got home, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that there was someone out there that looked so much like him. He decided then and there to find out who this Greg Spivey was. Shouldn’t be too difficult, he thought. Simply type the name into Google and there he should be.

Of course, the name Greg Spivey appeared on multiple sites. Any one of them could be the Greg Spivey he was looking for. Then he remembered a trick he had learned. He clicked the Images bar on the search page and several pictures appeared on his screen: all of men who, presumably, were named Greg Spivey. 

And then, after looking closely at all the pictures, there he was. It had to be him, John surmised. The resemblance was uncanny. A small shiver ran up the base of John’s spine as he looked at the picture of the man who easily could have been his long lost twin brother. He clicked the picture and the guy’s website popped up. It wasn’t what John had expected.

Greg Spivey was a male escort. And, judging from the photos on his site, their physical resemblances didn’t stop at their faces. Even their bodies were similar. Same exact stats and everything. The one difference, and it was rather immediately apparent, was the size of their dicks. Greg’s was larger. Substantially so. In fact, the stranger had one of the biggest tools John had ever seen. If they really were long lost brothers, Greg obviously got all the schlong genes. The thing truly was massive. John felt a stirring in his pants. It was strange to feel so attracted to someone who so closely looked like himself that even his own mother would have a hard time telling them apart.

John noticed at the bottom of the screen that Greg had a pager number. Had John not been stroking his boner through his jeans and thinking about chowing down on Greg’s huge cock at that moment, he might have flicked off his computer and gone about his business. Why get involved with someone like this, he thought? Still, it would be cool to finally meet this guy. He’d probably get a kick out of it too. After all, it’s not every day you come across your double. John knew he was convincing himself to call. Justifying that it would be a friendly get-together. Nothing out of the ordinary or illicit in that, right?

With just a slight tremor in his hand he dialed the number and paged Greg. John’s phone rang a couple of minutes later; which didn’t leave him any time to think about what he was going to say to this person except that he’d be over his place in twenty minutes. At least he had the sense not to invite him back to his own apartment. Though by that point he probably would have agreed to meet anywhere Greg wanted to. Once the little head is in charge of the big head, there’s usually no turning back.

John arrived at Greg’s right on time. He knocked, tentatively, and waited for Greg to answer. When he did, the two of them just stood there staring at each other. It was immediately obvious that Greg saw what John had already seen: that the two of them could easily have passed for the other one. Except for some minor differences in their haircuts and their clothes, the two appeared strikingly identical.

Once Greg regained his compose he invited John in to his apartment. John quickly told Greg that he had been scanning the Internet and came across his site and thought it would be cool if they met each other. Greg nodded, still in shock at the resemblance. 

“Dude, this is fucked up,” Greg said, once he regained his composure.

John managed a nervous grin and agreed. The two didn’t take their eyes off of each other while they stood there in Greg’s living room, until John finally mentioned that they looked alike in most other places as well.

“Really? Like where?” Greg asked.

“Um, take your shirt off and I’ll show you,” John said.

Greg yanked off his shirt and John followed suit. The two moved closer together to get a better look. And feel. Greg was the first to make contact. Running his hands across John’s hairy, blond chest. A jolt of electricity ran through John and, out of instinct, he reached up and started to feel his way across Greg. Around his tight belly, with the spray of blond hairs running down it, then up his torso to his nipples, which were hard to the touch, and across his lean, hard, hairy chest. Greg matched John’s motions with his own. Each felt like they were standing in front of a mirror. 

John ran his fingers through Greg’s dirty blond mane of hair and around his ears and the nape of his neck. He moved closer to get a better look at his features. The two stood there, breathing fast, until finally Greg reached out and pulled John’s lips onto his own. Their tongues deftly encircled each other’s. They kept their lids open, not wanting to take their eyes off of each other. It was mesmerizing to be kissing what amounted to yourself. Feeling what your lips must feel like. Seeing into eyes that looked so much like your own. Touching hair and sinew and muscle that could just as easily be your own.

Minutes went by while the two stood there kissing and touching and caressing each other. Greg was the first to break contact, but only to ask a question.

“Are we alike everywhere else?” he asked, with a smirk.

“Not quite,” John answered, somewhat dejectedly. 

“Show me,” Greg commanded, and stepped back a foot or two.

John looked at Greg and nodded an okay while he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his fly. Greg stared intently as he kicked his sneakers off and then worked his pants down to his ankles and then finally off his body, until John was standing there in only his underwear.

“Similar legs,” Greg said. “Similar muscle tone and hair pattern. Nice calves too.”

Greg moved in to get a closer look and to run his hands around John’s legs.

“Turn around,” Greg said. 

John turned around and Greg pulled his underwear off and down to the ground. John stepped out of them.

“Nice ass. Spread the legs a bit,” Greg said, and John complied.

Greg felt the firm and slightly hairy ass cheeks of John. Pulled them apart to see the hairy asshole in the center. Smelled the familiar manly funk of sweat on him. Leaned in and gently licked the hole. Around the hole. Slowly working his tongue in it until it was moist with his spit and he heard John let out a low moan. Thought to himself that if indeed the two were so much alike everywhere else that he too must have a beautiful asshole like this stranger did. Enjoyed that idea immensely. Liked the feel of John’s asshole on his mouth and tongue even more. Then reached between his legs to feel his balls. Nice sized balls, he thought. Good for pulling, which he did. John spread his legs a little further to allow Greg easier access to this region of his body. Liked having his balls pulled while Greg slid his tongue in and out of his asshole, occasionally gently nibbling at it. Pulling the fine hairs with his teeth. Worked his big, heavy balls with his hands until finally Greg couldn’t wait a moment longer to at last see the rest of him.

“Turn around now,” he commanded. “Let me taste the rest of you.”

In reality, he was thinking that he wanted to see the rest of him. He wasn’t disappointed, necessarily. For sure, as it turned out, John didn’t measure up to Greg in that one respect. Still, it was a nice cock. Long and straight with a decent sized mushroom head. Nice veins running down the shaft to his hairy, large balls. A leaker, just like his own. He knelt forward to taste the precum. Salty, like his own. Like most men’s. Greg liked the taste of cum.

He sucked on the head of John’s cock. Kept it in his mouth while he swirled his tongue around it. Slid his mouth further down while he reached between John’s legs and once again found that beautiful asshole. Slid his finger slowly in the wet hole while he held most of John’s hard cock in his mouth. John squatted a little to accommodate the action. Liked feeling Greg’s finger inside of him. Worried about if the rest of him would fit as well. Allowed for a second finger to reach inside. Deeper still. Farther up until it massaged just the right point. Pumped his cock into Greg’s mouth and his ass down around his fingers. 

“Too close. Stop,” he moaned and pulled away.

“You want the rest?” Greg asked, leering. Knowing that most men wanted it. Slightly feared it. Yet still desired it deep within in. Most men took it too. He sensed that John would be one of those men.

John knelt on the floor and once again pressed his lips to Greg’s. So soft and nice. Must be like his own, he imagined. Men had told him that before. Now he understood. 

He reached down and took Greg’s huge cock in his hands. Massaged it. Pulled it. Slapped it and pushed it down until it sprang back up. Reached down and pulled on his balls. Pulled hard. Harder. Greg liked that. Was used to it. Men liked to pull on his big balls. John knew how to do it well. Of course, he thought, he must have practiced on his own. They were indeed similar in that regard as well.

Greg wondered what it would feel like to be inside John. Somewhat like fucking himself, he imagined. Something he had tried to do before, but to no avail. Looked easy in those movies; especially for the big dicked porn stars. But no. It never worked. This was his chance to get as close to fucking himself that he’d ever get. To look into his own face while in the throws of ecstacy. To watch the eyes roll back and the lips emit the groan. To see what all those other men had seen while they were fucking Greg. Fucking him for money. For rent. For food. 

Greg tried to push these thoughts out of his head. He didn’t like to think along those lines. Hated facing the abject truth of it all. Instead he concentrated on John. On stroking his fat cock and teasing his hole first with one, then with two fingers again. Before long he knew that John was ready for the real thing. He had that fuck-me-face he had seen on countless men before.

He reached over to the jar on the floor and pulled out the extra large Trojan. Slid it on his extra large cock and then laid John gently back on the floor, propping his head up with a pillow before lining up the head of his cock with John’s loosened hole. 
“Slowly, Greg,” John cautioned.

But Greg knew about slow. Knew what damage his cock could do. And he didn’t want to hurt John. It would be too much like hurting himself. He had done that enough in his lifetime. So he eased it in. Slow. Slow. Slow. Until the head was in an inch. Then two. Then three. All the while he watched John. And John, in turn, watched Greg. Face to face. Eye to eye. Dick sliding in and out of ass. In and out. In and out. Slow. Slower. Easy. Until John was relaxed enough to take more. Until John was bucking his ass into that massive cock. Taking more of it. Four inches. Five inches. Feeling the head pounding that special spot. Over and over. Each time pushing the blood up his shaft. Making his cock harder and harder with each thrust. 

“Do it,” John rasped into Greg’s ear.

And then seven inches. Eight inches. And then all nine were pounding like a piston in and out of John’s ass. Harder. Faster. Faster. Until the eyes finally did roll back. And John could barely breathe. And his dick felt like it would fairly burst. And his balls tightened up until they were hard like a rock. And then Greg knew how to finish it. 

He grabbed John’s swollen cock and stroked it. Up and down to the beat of his own pounding cock, so that they would cum together. Wanted so badly to cum together. And when John shouted that he was ready, the two of them did cum as one. Came for what seemed like forever. Until Greg’s chest and stomach were soaked with John’s cum. Until it dribbled down his side and onto the carpet. And still Greg kept his hard cock inside of John. Not wanting to relinquish the splendour of it. The two lay there staring at each other until finally Greg gently pulled out and rolled over and took a deep breath. And then he started to laugh. Softly at first, but soon into a full-fledged laugh.

“What’s so funny?” John asked, also starting to laugh.

“You know that phrase, ‘Go fuck yourself’?” he asked John.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Well, I think I just did.”

John nodded and closed his eyes. He knew exactly what Greg meant. Felt the same way, as he lay there trying to catch his breath. But now what? Where does he go from there? Where do they go from there? Greg was thinking the same thing as he lay by John’s side, with John’s cum running down his side.

But the question John asked next wasn’t what Greg had expected, nor wanted to hear. 

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Oh…uh…owe?” Greg fumbled for the words. He forgot, however temporarily, that men owed him for this. It was easy to forget at those certain moments when life had seemingly stood still and all there was was his cock and the other guy’s cock and a pair of lips and eyes. But the money always brought him back to reality. 

“Um, it’s on me,” he said, then quickly stood up and headed to the bathroom to get them a towel to clean themselves up with. 

John sat there and waited, unsure of what to do or say next. Wasn’t used to being in that position. Hated the awkwardness of it. Hated the cum running down his balls as he sat on the stranger’s carpet. Hated returning back to his own lonely reality even more. Fuck, he thought. He should have just shut his computer down and ignored what he had found. 

Greg returned with the warm, wet towel and wiped John off, but otherwise showed no emotion. Was clearly uncomfortable as well. Wanted this stranger out of his apartment. Out of his head. His life. Didn’t like the new, strange sensation of feeling attached. Tricking always detached him. This was different. And unwelcome. 

“Thanks,” John said, once he was cleaned up. Then he gathered up his clothes and quickly dressed. He was out the door and on his way home within minutes.

Unfortunately, being separated from Greg didn’t ease the feeling of somehow being connected to him. Didn’t minimize the strong feelings he had towards this man. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the scene over and over again in his head. Still felt that great big cock thrusting in and out of his ass. Still saw that face, so closely resembling his own, while he came. The image was now forever etched in his brain.

So was the thought that he was just fucked by a complete stranger. And a prostitute at that. Strangely, the thought wasn’t as repugnant as he thought it would be. Actually, it made him even more aroused. Dirty. Different. Not the boring John he saw himself to be. 

And that’s how John felt the rest of the week. Not necessarily dirty, but definitely different. Wanted to feel that way again. The way he felt with Greg. But was scared to call him. Didn’t know where that would lead. Wasn’t sure he wanted to go down that path. Was it wise to get emotionally invested in a man like Greg? John didn’t know, but the pain of his now constant erection was telling him that he had to do something. At least find out more about Greg before he made the decision to completely write him off. But how?

He knew how when he got home after a week of agonizing over it. Stan’s business card was still sitting on his dresser. Stan who lived down the street from John and wanted to get together to relive old times. 

John was smart. He knew he could probably fake it enough over a quick drink. Maybe he’d get some more insight into Greg. Maybe he just needed the thrill of fooling this stranger once again: in pretending to be Greg. That was the clincher, really. He needed a fix. Needed to feel dirty again. Needed to feel close to Greg again.

He called Stan and arranged to meet him at a local bar. Felt the rush of adrenaline almost immediately. For a change, didn’t worry about the repercussions. 

Stan wasn’t there when John arrived. Nervously, he sat at a table in the back of the bar and waited. He told himself that he’d only stay for a short time, trying his best to find out more about Greg before he left. Fifteen minutes later, and with one drink already finished, Stan arrived and apologized for being late. Then he ordered drinks for the both of them. John hated to admit it, but he did find Stan sort of attractive. And the thought that he was there as someone else emboldened him. Allowed him to be more free and open. To flirt. Which was something he rarely did.

Stan, for his part, was just fine with the flirting. Encouraged it. And, after the third drink, made an offer that took John by surprise. 

“Care to go back to my place and relive old times?” he asked.

But there were no old times for John. And Greg’s old times could amount to just about anything. The hand on his thigh wasn’t making the choice any easier. Neither was the lump in his pants. He hesitated, but nodded his head that he was fine with that. It had been a week since his encounter with Greg and he was mightily horny. The two were out of the bar and into Stan’s car in no time flat.

They arrived at Stan’s apartment a short while later. Nice place, John thought. That put him temporarily at ease.

“Same as usual?” Stan asked, after John had taken a seat on his couch. 

Not knowing what Stan was talking about, John said, “Sure.” 

The usual was two hundred dollars, which Stan happily produced from his wallet. John took it, not knowing what else to do. The thought of taking money for sex was, actually, exciting. The fact that someone was willing to pay him for it was an instant ego booster. And an erection booster as well. That’s when John realized that he was in trouble.

John’s erection and Greg’s erection were two very different things. And Stan, having already seen Greg’s, was sure to notice the difference. John stood up and was going to think of something to say to get him out of there, but in no time flat Stan was out of his shirt and pants and was on all fours on the floor.

“Ready, sir,” he fairly moaned.

John knew immediately that he was in control. Maybe he could stay a while longer, he thought. See where it goes. As long as he kept his underwear on, he was safe.

“Are you ready, boy?” he said, surprised by his own bravado.

“Yes, sir. Please. Spank my ass. Hard.”

Two hundred dollars to spank someone’s ass? Maybe John was in the wrong profession. He knelt down and pulled Stan’s underwear off, revealing a nicely fuzzy ass. He rubbed it first, to get a feel for it. Spread the cheeks apart to reveal a shaved hole. Spanked the hole first. Lightly and then with some force, causing a groan from Stan. Then a hard slap to his left cheek. The sound and the feeling of it felt good to John. Dirty, like he wanted it to be.

John forcibly spread Stan’s legs apart for a better view. Spanked him again when he was met with temporary resistance, but then was offered what he wanted. John liked to watch a guy’s balls swing when they were in that position. He grabbed for them and gave a pull. At first gently, but then with more gusto. Stan winced, but otherwise seemed to be enjoying himself. 

With one hand pulling Stan’s balls, John continued to spank his ass. Alternating between cheeks until they both became vividly red. Then he spit on Stan’s asshole and began to slap and probe at it. When Stan resisted, John pulled on his balls harder until he relented. Being in control like that was a huge turn on for John. And a first. Then he had an idea.

He pulled off his sock and proceeded to blindfold Stan with it.

“Wh . . . what’s that for, sir?” Stan whimpered.

John answered him with a hard slap to his ass. Stan quieted down. Then, with less fear than before, John removed his pants. His hard cock was hurting from straining against his jeans. He stroked it through his underwear and continued probing Stan’s hairless asshole. First with one finger, then two, and then easily with a third. Stan obviously had larger things in there before.

“There’s a dildo under the couch, sir,” Stan timidly offered.

John reached under the couch and pulled the large, pink dildo out. He also found some condoms under there and a bottle of lube. All should come in handy, he thought. First he reached between Stan’s legs to grab a hold of his cock. It wasn’t too big, but it was thick and meaty. John pulled down on it and gave it a slap. It sprang up and Stan winced, but still knelt in place. John grabbed a hold of Stan’s balls and pulled straight up so that his cock was pointing down. Then he gave it a half dozen soft pats followed by a hard slap. Stan moaned in appreciation. John’s own cock was hard as a rock.

Fuck the dildo, he thought. It was time for him to top for a change. He slid the rubber on and lubed Stan’s ass up good. He triple-finger fucked him for a while and continued spanking him hard. Then he crouched down and lined his cock up with Stan’s gaping hole, sliding the entirety of it in with one long thrust. Stan groaned loudly and took John’s cock all the way to the hilt. He bucked for more, which John gladly gave him. But then, out of nowhere, Stan stopped rocking and was perfectly still. John kept sliding his cock in and out, but was perplexed at the sudden stillness.

He was ill prepared when Stan sprung up and knocked him off his feet. 

“What the fu…” he tried to say, but was unable to. Stan had grabbed the dildo and was thrusting it against John’s throat, thereby winding him in the process. The knee to his stomach knocked the remaining wind out of him.

He looked up at Stan in bewilderment. 

“You’re not Greg,” Stan grunted. “That wasn’t his cock fucking me, asshole.”

Now John understood what had happened. The extra few inches must feel completely different up a guy’s ass. Stan must have felt it right off the bat. Now he was mad. And John, who was completely caught off guard, was practically helpless pinned below the crazed lunatic. But just before he blacked out from the lack of oxygen, he heard a knocking at Stan’s door.

“Help,” he tried to shout, but it barely came out as a whisper.

The knocking got louder. Again John tried to yell for help, but the lights were already dimming. Stan, sensing this, pulled back and smacked John hard over the head with the dildo, thereby rendering him unconscious. 

“Fucking phony,” he said, as he kicked John in his side.

The knocking brought Stan back to reality. He put the chain on the door and opened it to see who was bothering him with that incessant pounding. He was stunned to see the man on the floor now standing in his hallway. He was even more surprised when the man in the hallway kicked the door, which then smashed him in the face, causing him to trip over the lifeless body of John. His head smacked the coffee table and he was out like a light.

Greg poked his head in under the chain and saw both men lying on the ground. He shouted John’s name, but no response came. Repeatedly, he kicked at the door until the chain finally broke off. Then he rushed in and over to John. Thankfully, he was still breathing.

John awoke, several hours later, in a strange bed. His head was throbbing and his side ached, but at least he was alive. But where was he? He instantly bolted up and was surprised to see himself in the mirror, looking no worse the wear. Then he realized that there was no mirror. It was Greg staring back at him.

“How?” he managed to croak out.

Greg smiled at him before answering. “That asshole still had my pager number. He called to say he was running late. I’m no idiot, John. I put two and two together right quick. Since he wasn’t meeting me, he must have been meeting you. And that I knew was no good. That guy’s dangerous. As you found out.”

John nodded his head; which hurt like a mother fucker. 

“Thanks,” he managed to get out. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no sweat. Just glad I got there in time. But why?”

John sat there thinking about how to respond. He tried to answer as honestly as possible.

“Already knew what it felt like to be in your skin. Wanted to know what it felt like to be in your head.”

Greg smirked. “Pretty fucked up in there, isn’t it?”

Again John nodded, but also managed a slight grin.

“Maybe next time you should just ask me.”

John leaned over and softly kissed Greg on the lips. The lips that felt so much like his own, but he now knew clearly were not the same. The lips that would soon be on his neck, his chest, his cock, his asshole. And he knew that there indeed would be a next time. Perhaps, even, a next time after that. And from then on, he’d leave the dirty stuff to Greg.