Author: admin

I saw him from a good distance away, walking down the highway in the direction I was driving shortly after a big cloverleaf marking the intersection of two major highways. With his deep tan, ponytailed black hair, and tanned torso, he looked Native American and fit in perfectly with the highway that was descending in the western sun between red-rock buttes on either side. He hardly looked like an experienced hitchhiker, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Not only was he hitchhiking illegal on a highway like this, but I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a hitchhiker on the roads at all. And I especially couldn’t remember seeing one as ill equipped for hitchhiking as this one was. I couldn’t tell how old he was, but he certainly looked young—barely out of high school, certainly, his body lean and willowy. He seemed almost to be floating—dancing—down the road.

Maybe he wasn’t hitchhiking, I thought. Maybe his car had broken down. But he was walking just beyond where he could have gotten off and found places that would have helped with an automobile breakdown and I didn’t remember seeing a car on the side of the highway in the last several miles.

He didn’t look to be more than nineteen. He had the usual backpack, which was hanging from one of his hands, but he was shirtless, a white T-shirt hanging over his shoulder, and was wearing low-slung jeans. And a cowboy hat and tooled leather boots. This hardly was gear for hiking or walking the asphalt highways. He was of medium height, and lean, hard-bodied. He looked like he worked out regularly. In classic hitcher style, he was pointed at me, walking backwards down the road, with his thumb out.

I didn’t see a stranded car back there, but I’d just passed a rest area. Maye he had come out of a rest area, where he had been left off by his previous ride. And as he saw my car coming down the road, he turned and leaned against a white light pole and looked up at the treetops. It was almost as if he was posing for me.

As I got closer to him, I was thinking that he must not have been without a ride for long. He didn’t look wrung out by the summer heat. So, it was pretty evident he’d come out of the rest area. He must have been backing and thumbing for only a couple of minutes, because I don’t think anyone can back down a highway for long like that and make any decent progress. Maybe he thought he could be picked up quickly like this—by being so sexy looking. And maybe he was right about that. He certainly had gotten my attention.

As I passed him, we made eye contact, and I found myself pulling over just past him. I have no idea why I did that; I’d never picked up a hitchhiker before in my life.

He opened the back door and tossed his bag in and then opened the front door, stuck his head in, and asked, “Can I get a lift down the road a ways? You’re not exiting for the next couple of exits or anything, I hope?”

“Sure, hop in,” I answered. “I’ve got a good long ways to go down this road.” He already had his bag in my backseat, so I guess we both knew the request was only a formality. He draped his T-shirt over the seat back before he got in, which was nice of him. I like to keep my car clean, and, again, picking someone up like this was a new experience for me. He wasn’t too sweaty, though. He hadn’t been hitching for long since the last ride.

“Thanks again,” he said, as he got in and buckled up and I nosed back onto the highway.

“Nice wheels,” he said, “A new Lexus?”

“Yes, thanks. I like it.”

“These SUVs have a whole lot of room. You could really have a party in the backseat there. Bet it lays down to provide a good bed for more than one.”

I didn’t quite know a good answer to that one, so I didn’t say anything.

“So, what’s your name?” He asked.

“Chad,” I answered. “I’m on my way to the coast. I’ve been to the mountains for the weekend.” It was lame, but I wasn’t all that good with small talk.

“Sounds great. Tim. That’s my name, Tim. I’m just drifting down the road myself. Seeing where it leads. Seeing how far I can get on my wits and a promise.”

“Exploring your world between high school and getting bogged down in college, I suppose.”

“Ummm; something like that.” Maybe he wasn’t going to tell me how old he was. Maybe I’d calculated that too high. But I had no idea at the time why I asked that. Later, I decided that I unconsciously knew what was afoot and was trying to protect myself, trying to play safe. He didn’t know it would be someone like me who picked him up. But then I’d just speculated about how presenting himself a certain way might help him get picked up.

We went silent then for several miles. He lifted his arms and did a few twists back and forth in the seat and then massaged his biceps and ran his hand over his chest and down his abs.

I couldn’t help but notice him. “Tough hitching, I guess,” I said.

“Huh?”

“I said, it must be tough hitchhiking like that. Your backpack must be heavy; must have knotted your muscles up.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. And then he laughed a little nervous laugh. “Okay, so it’s getting close to supper time. What can I do in exchange for a meal and a ride for four or five exits beyond that? Maybe a blow job for the meal and then you can do me for the mileage?”

“Excuse me?” I asked in shock and almost ran off the side of the road.

“Huh, sorry, man,” the young man said, “My mistake. I just assumed—from why I’m usually picked up. You can pull over there, and I’ll just get out. Sorry, man. I misunderstood.”

I had gotten the car back under control. “Hey, I’ll give you a ride. And I’ll even feed you dinner, but how did you come to the wild conclusion that I wanted anything for it, let alone that?”

“It’s just the rule of the road, man. I advertise my availability—what’d you think I was doing with my shirt off back there—and a single guy stops for me, and I get down the road a ways and maybe a meal with about the only thing I have to give in exchange. I’m sorry to just come on to you like that. I didn’t know. You stopped when I put out the bait. And you’re a good looker. You look like someone who might be interested. You obviously take good care of your body. A good reason to care for it is so you can use it. It’s why I make the effort. But, sorry. I don’t mean to . . .” He stopped there, like he knew he’d gone too far.

He was right, though. I had stopped. And I had no idea why I’d stopped. Was it because he had been shirtless? Would I have stopped otherwise? I felt myself blushing. Was there something inside me that knew more than I consciously was willing to admit? Maybe I did know why I stopped—and maybe he was right about that; that it had something to do with his looks and how he presented himself.

“So, if you’ll just let me out, I won’t dirty up your car anymore.”

“Hey, it’s not like that. I don’t care what you do to pay for your travels. I just didn’t stop because of that. I don’t know why I stopped. Probably because you aren’t supposed to be hitchhiking on an expressway and I didn’t want a young kid like you to get into trouble.”

“I’m not a young kid. I’m nineteen. I’m of age.” He let that register before continuing. “I don’t ever have to stand beside the road with my thumb out very long,” he added, with sort of a pout.

“You mean there are a lot of guys who stop for you . . . for that reason?”

“Yeah, there are.” He left some dead space so that I could contemplate that. “So, you didn’t stop because you were attracted to me?” he continued. “I don’t look good to you?”

“No. I mean, you look just fine. But, no, I didn’t stop and pick you up with anything like that in mind. Certainly not in the front of my mind.” Shit. Now I was doing it—saying too much.

“So, you don’t swing like that?”

“No, certainly not.” I might have paused a bit too long before saying that, though.

“Never thought about it? I mean, the way I look at it, sex is sex is sex. You have a chance to get it on and get it off with another good looker, a girl with big tits or a guy who’s hung, it’s just a thing of nature. Get it on, get off with it, I think.”

“So, your response would be the same if a single woman stopped for you?”

“Sure, women who would stop for a shirtless young guy like me are as prone to want a fuck than the men who do. And . . . whatever gets me down the road.”

We were silent after that for a couple of miles. I wasn’t stopping to let him out of the Lexis, so we were both settling down.

Eventually, he returned to whatever this was—negotiations? Seduction? “A great looker like you has never thought about that—picking a guy up off the road for a casual lay? The way you wear those jeans—I’ll bet you’re hung too.”

“Well, that ‘whatever/whoever’ view is quite a philosophy,” was all I could think to say. I had to say that it was getting me up.

“Seriously, you’ve never had a blow job from a guy? Never even thought about it?”

“No . . . well, maybe a bit curious. I’ll bet all men who are honest are a bit curious. But, no, no, I’ve never done it or been in a position to do it.”

“I bet you have one guys would love to suck.”

There was no way I was going to respond to that. The kid turned his head and stared out the window. He had his elbow on the sill and was picking at his teeth with his fingernails. The other hand had dropped to rest in his lap.

“Well, then,” he said after a couple of miles. “That sign says there’s an exit coming up in a couple of miles. You can pull over and let me out there.”

“There’s no need for that. We’re cool. I’m not judging you on this. But we’ll stop at that exit for some dinner anyway. I’m hungry too.”

“Then, can I cover the cost of a meal by sucking you off? You say you’ve never done it because you haven’t had the opportunity. Here’s your opportunity. Let me see it. I’m sure I’d be happy to suck it off. A lot of guys let guys blow them. That doesn’t mean anything about them being queer or anything.”

“No! I can afford the meal. I don’t have to get anything for it.”

Tim went silent.

We exited and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. The dinner crowd was already thinning out and dusk was settling in.

“Hey, could you park way over there in the back corner?” Tim asked, as he stretched to pull his T-shirt on. “I’ve got a kink in my leg and would like to walk it out on our way into the restaurant.”

“Sure thing. It should save me from getting a ding on the new SUV, anyway.”

Tim was quiet and a little sad looking through dinner. Over desert, I asked him what was wrong; what he was thinking about.

“I don’t take charity, Chad. I don’t really have anything of value in my backpack to cover this supper and this ride, but I don’t take charity. What I offered is all I got. I do have pride, though. I think you want it, and I want to pay my way.”

“I don’t know what to say, Tim. I understand what you’re saying. We can think about this as we go down the road. Maybe there’s something else you could do. You can always be my insurance against getting a flat, I suppose. If I get one, you can fix it, and that would pay me back.” I thought this was funny, but Tim didn’t laugh.

Tim pulled his shirt back off as we were walking back to the car. This end of the parking lot was quite dark now. I got back in the driver’s seat, buckled up, put my key in the ignition, and started to turn it. But Tim twisted toward me in his seat and put his left hand over my hand holding the keys and put his right hand in my lap, searching for my cock, and finding it through the material of my trousers and briefs.

“Wow, is that a missile you’ve got in there, Chad? I almost thought you really weren’t interested—that I’d read you wrong—but I don’t think it was that old broad of a waitress who’s got you hard or anyone else in the diner. It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Tim! I said no.”

“Here, you feel me. I don’t have a problem admitting that it’s you who’s made me hard.” He’d taken my hand and put it on his crotch. I took a moment too long in taking it away. We both knew I was interested.

“I pay as I go, Chad. That’s my way. I ain’t changing no tire, because your tires look brand new. I don’t think you’re getting any flat tire. And you admitted you’ve thought about it and just have never had the opportunity. You’re hard now, man, and I don’t think it’s for anyone but me—what I’m offering. This is your opportunity. Don’t make me beg. Leave me with some respect.” All the time he was saying this, he was unbuckling my belt, undoing my pants button, and unzipping me.

And I was letting him do that. I sat in shock, speechless.

“God, damn, Chad!” Tim exclaimed as he unrolled my cock and brought it out into the open air. “This thing is enormous. Why are you shy about showing this off?”

“Tim . . .” I started, but he wasn’t paying any attention to me. He was stroking me, trying to get me hard, and, I must say, my cock was cooperating.

“Lay back in your seat,” he said. “Let me at least give you a hand job. You’re hard; you want it. Does this seat recline?”

The seat did recline and I lay back in it.

“Relax. Spread your legs,” he said. I responded, pressed my forearm over my eyes, and emitted a low moan as he gave my shaft a few strokes.

“No, Chad,” he said. “Don’t cover your eyes. Look down and watch me jack you. That’s half the pleasure—seeing that another guy is doing that and that it isn’t just you pulling your own meat.”

I looked down the length of my torso to where he was masturbating me and groaned. His chiseled, Native American profile was in view as well. He was a beautiful young man, and he was jacking me off.

“You got a great cock, man,” he murmured, as he stroked. He didn’t stop there, though. His mouth came down and swallowed me to the root, and my cock was quite a bit longer and thicker coming out than it had been going in.

“Oh, god, no,” I murmured, but immediately contradicted that with an “Oh, shit, yes.”

He wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed, helping to keep the blood that was flowing there stay there, and he began rimming my glans with his tongue and sucking it like a Popsicle. The size of my cock burgeoned and I felt a series of moans escape my lips.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I swiveled and placed them both on his back and massaged his back muscles and let my fingers run through his thick, dark hair. His hair was long, a shiny black. He’d had it in a banded ponytail. I released that and let his hair cascade to his shoulders. It moved in waves in cadence with his mouth work on my cock.

He was pumping me with his mouth now, keeping fingers squeezed at the base of my cock and playing with my balls with his other hand. I was trapped behind the wheel, so there wasn’t much else either he or I could do down there.

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned as he took my balls, one after the other, in his mouth and sucked on them as he fisted my cock and continued jacking it.

It was all too much of a surprise for me and too much sudden sensual pleasure for me to gain control. I came in spasms on his face quite quickly. He licked me clean as he withdrew his mouth and then wiped his face with his T-shirt. He came up smiling.

“So, you really did want this, didn’t you? Excited to see me. Haven’t had any for a while, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I shouldn’t have lost—”

“Don’t apologize. I love sucking cock. You’ve got a beauty.”

He then twisted away from me in the passenger seat and raised his left leg and burrowed his left foot, still in a tooled cowboy boot, behind my back; raised his right foot to the dash board beyond the steering wheel; and leaned back into the passenger arm rest. There was a long line of good-looking, tanned skin running down from his neck across his youthful, clean-shaven chest and six-pack abs, his pert little outie navel, across his belly and to the top of his low-rider jeans and beyond. He’d unbuttoned his fly half way, showing the start of curly dark pubic hair and the band of black Calvin Klein’s in the “V” that had opened there. He also showed tan lines. He’d been out in the sun a lot in just a Speedo.

“OK, Chad. We’re well acquainted now and I think we both know what you want from a guy. Now, for a room for the night, you can do me.” He arched his back at me, causing his chest muscles to expand and his belly to contract and that “V” below to open wider.

“Do you?”

“Yes, blow me. Rim me. Fuck me. Blow and fuck me. Whatever you want. Tie me up. Spank me. Be cruel, if you want. It’s all good with me.”

I sat there, frozen—my mouth agape.

In exasperation, he brought his right leg down and he sat back up. He took both of my hands and moved my right hand around on his chest and plopped my left hand on top of his basket. An electric shock, not unpleasant, zinged through me. Why had I stopped for him? Was there something I wasn’t acknowledging to myself?

I shook my head back and forth and jerked my hands back, away from him. I stuffed my cock back into my pants, zipped and buttoned myself back up, and started the car engine.

“This is crazy, Tim. I’ll get a room. But it will have two beds. And you won’t owe me anything. You’ve paid. You’ve paid in full. That was new and interesting, thank you. And it’s enough to cover the whole trip.”

Tim remained where he was, putting himself on offer to me all the way to the next exit, where I pulled off, looking for a decent motel.

“So, you liked that, did you?”

A moment of silence.

“Yes. How can I say otherwise? But that doesn’t mean I feel the need to do it again.”

I registered and paid for a room while Tim waited in the car. When we entered the room, I threw my bag on a bed and turned on lights. When I turned, I saw that Tim had thrown his backpack on the same bed as I had placed my bag. I picked the backpack up and tossed it on the other bed.

While I rustled up some ice and cokes, Tim had explored the pay-for-TV channels and somehow come up with a gay soft porn film. I ignored his choice and the rapt attention he was giving it while I busily unpacked my toiletries, some pajama bottoms, and what I was planning to wear tomorrow.

“So, do you want the shower first?” I asked him.

“Naw, I’ve got this started. You go on. I’ll wait.”

I went in the bathroom, and while the shower was steaming up, I shaved. When I’d gotten into the shower and started to soap up, I heard the door open. The shower curtain was pulled back, and there was a grinning Tim, Naked and, I must admit, looking long, lean, and ready for action. The tan lines accentuated the slimness of his hips and the beauty of his erection. I very nearly dropped the soap.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed.

“I decided I couldn’t really wait for a shower, and I found the pause button on the TV.” He entered the shower and pulled the curtain back across the opening. Taking the soap from my hands, he said, “Here, let me do that.”

“Tim, you are so exasperating. Get out of here. I won’t . . .” I found myself going weak in the knees, though. His hands were gliding across my chest and down my belly and around my cock over the soapy film. He pulled me close into him and his hands and the soap went to my shoulders and over to my back and down to the small of my back and over my butt cheeks. I could feel his chest and belly and cock against mine, and I started to engorge again. He already had a half hardon.

“You’re in really good shape, he said. A really nice butt and one of the biggest cocks I’ve seen. Here, now you soap me up.”

With that, he stood back, facing me, holding his arms up in a posing position. His hair was down now, and some of it fell down his front, reaching almost to his shoulders.

“Chad. I said you soap me up now.”

I tentatively reached out and began soaping his chest and down his belly. I was into his pubic hair, when one of his hands came down and pushed my hand down to his dick. I dropped the soap, snatched my hand back, and turned to leave the shower.

“Ah, you dropped the soap,” he said. “Who is going to bend over to pick it up? I can go either way, but I usually bottom. So, you want me to bend over and spread my cheeks?”

“No, Tim. This is too far for me. I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Well, okay, but you were comfortable with this,” he said, as he went down on one knee and turned me toward him, with his hands on my hips. “He swallowed my cock to the root,” while holding my pelvis in place with his hands.

“Tim! You’ve already finished with this. Let me go.”

Tim came up for air. “Hell, you came too fast in the car. That hardly covered supper. And there’s breakfast. I’ve got my pride; I’m not going to be beholden to you for anything. And, what’s the problem. We’ve already done this. And I told you. I like sucking guys. I like taking guy’s cocks too.”

With a sigh, I let him have his way. His hands went to my butt cheeks, while I planted my feet as best as I could on the soapy floor of the stall and arched my back to the tiled wall of the shower, letting the water cascade down onto my belly and Tim’s head. One of Tim’s hands came up and played in my chest hair and with my nipples and my abs and belly, and I let him do that. I ran my fingers through the thick, curly strands of his hair, while Tim repeated his penis games from earlier. This time, though, I maintained better control, and he had to pump me for a good long time before he could sense I was coming, upon which he released my cock from his mouth and arched his back so my cum shot off across his chest and belly and got washed down the drain by the water from the shower.

Before Tim could suggest any other payment plan ideas, I retreated from the shower, quickly toweled myself off, and went into the bedroom. I pulled my pajama bottoms on, set my clock, turned off the light beside my bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and tightly shut my eyelids. When I opened them again sometime later, the room was dark except for the glow from the TV set. Tim was draped out on his bed, his torso propped up by pillows in front of the brass headboard, his legs opened wide across the satiny bedspread, and his hand slowly jerking off his hard cock.

He was also smoking something, and it didn’t seem to be a cigarette. There was a sweet smell in the air, and I was feeling woozy. But I couldn’t help myself. I watched him until after he had come with a sigh and gone back to the bathroom. My attention then half focused on the nightstand between us, and I registered that he put some rather peculiar things on there from his backpack, including a couple of thin leather belts and a roll of masking tape. But the strangeness of that didn’t really register. I was really, really drowsy, and the walls of the room seemed to be swaying a bit. When Tim returned, he turned off the TV set, stubbed his weed out in a plastic cup on the nightstand, and then all was dark.

In the wee, dark hours of the morning, I was awakened by something heavy coming down on the mattress of my bed and the covers being lifted. Tim had come into my bed and was stretched out behind me, his body stretched along mine. His pelvis was cuddled into my ass. His left hand was fingering my hair and my ears and neck, and his right hand was slowly exploring my chest, abs, belly and crotch. As I drowsily came awake, I could feel his cock beginning to rise in the small of my back.

“So,” he whispered, “do you take cock or give it? As I said before, no problem either way with me.”

“No, Tim,” I managed in a sleepy voice, fighting with drugged sleep, exhausted from the road. But he put his right leg over mine then and pulled me toward my back. My pelvis was pointed at the ceiling, and his hand unsnapped my pajama shorts and took a grip on my cock.

“No, no.” I turned toward him and fought him—weakly because I still wasn’t fully awake and because whatever the smoke of what Tim had been puffing was still drifting around the room. We rolled around in the bed, entwining our legs, chest pushing at chest, cocks flopping against each other, bellies heaving, which only served to excite us both and to make me lose my control. My hands stopped trying to push him away, and, instead, pulled and prodded and glided and squeezed. I was exploring him just as much as he was exploring me and just as sensually. These were my sighs and moans I was hearing; they weren’t all his. He had pulled my pajama shorts down to my knees, but I pulled them off my legs and tossed them aside myself.

“In the dark,” he whispered through heavy breathing. “Nothing is real; nothing counts in the dark, Chad. You can pretend tomorrow that this was all a dream. We’ll both pretend it was only a dream. Tomorrow. But tonight . . .”

“No, no,” my mouth was saying, but my body was showing that to be a lie.

“You will be paid in full, Chad. I can’t stand owing anything to anyone. I pay as I go in life.”

I was hard as a rock now and found myself trapped under Tim. He was sitting astride my belly and he had the two leather belts from the nightstand in his hands. He grabbed for one of my hands, but I tried to power myself up. He had a wild look in his eyes and slapped me hard across the face, which stunned me long enough for him to tie both of my hands off on the brass rods of the headboard. Then his mouth came down on one of my nipples and he bit me there. I thought I was screaming, but everything was in a fog, and I didn’t hear any sound come out of me. He became less rough but more methodical, as he nipped and tongued his way down my torso. His long, silky hair was streaming across my body, tickling me, but soothing me around the edges of the attack of his lips and teeth. I saw his long, lean torso raise up before me, and he was coming down into my lap, skewering me with his asshole. It was both painful and pleasurable as he enveloped me. He was too tight at the beginning, and my sensitive glans chafed against the walls of his ass canal. But he opened to me, and I felt a powerful surge as I was drawn upstream into the darkness.

“Fuck me, dammit,” He yelled. “Get your feet under your butt muscles and pump me. I’m paying the bill for this room, dammit. Fuck me.”

I dug my heels into the mattress and found that I could, in fact, get enough leverage to work my cock up and down in his ass, so I languidly pumped him for a while. But I was still woozy. So woozy that I didn’t even feel indignant that my hands were tied off or that he’d slapped me. I wasn’t pumping vigorously enough for Tim, though, so he started wildly pumping me himself, moving his ass up and down and rocking back and forth. I came, deep inside him, and he stopped pumping and stretched out on top of me, keeping my softening cock inside him.

I went back to sleep then and I assumed that he had too. But I awoke again sometime later, with light just beginning to creep in around the edges of the curtain. I had been flipped over onto my stomach, although my hands still seemed to be tied above my head. I was still woozy, and I was beginning to think that it wasn’t all the weed Tim had been smoking, that something may have been slipped into the coke I’d drunk the night before as well. I felt oh so drowsy. And I felt something else too. I felt wetness and coldness at my asshole. It took me a while to realize that Tim was kissing and tonguing me there. It took a while even to realize what this was and where it was leading, as nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I felt his fingers at my ass, and I let out a yelp when he pushed one in.

“Awake, Chad, are we? Keep it down. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.” But I couldn’t help it and told him in no uncertain terms what I thought about his finger the next time he entered me.

“Oh, very well, Chad. This is for breakfast, though. You’ve finally got around to experiencing what a man does to a man, so you might as well get the whole load.”

“Man does to a man,” I idiotically thought to myself. Then embarrassment set in. What would I say, what could I say if someone found us here now? What would they think of me? That shut me up real fast. Didn’t want the neighboring rooms reporting what we were up to. But I was too late. It was then that I found out what the tape on the nightstand was for. Tim ripped off a length of the tape with his teeth and then leaned down and scooped up one of the socks I’d been wearing the day before and stuffed it in my mouth. The tape went on over my mouth, and my yelling mood was doubly stifled. Tim went back to slobbering up my ass and opening it with his fingers and muttering to himself.

“Up on your knees, Chad, and spread those legs.”

I was slow to respond.

“Don’t think you’re saving yourself from or for anything, Chad. I’ve already had your ass. You’ve been fucked. You loved it. I want it again and so do you. Do it, Chad. Up on your knees. Believe me; you’ll want it that way. You’ll want to be as open as possible.”

I went up on my knees and moved my legs as far apart as I felt I could without collapsing. He pushed my butt cheeks apart with his hands and entered me, slowly, with his cock. He waited for me to open to him and he slid in up to the root. Fortunately, he wasn’t extraordinarily endowed. He started to pump me and I felt both pain and pleasure. As both he and I got into a rhythm, though, the mix of pleasure went on the ascendant. When he started not to be able to control his twitching, he pulled out of me and shot his load across my back. My knees gave out, and I sank down on the bed. He lowered himself on top of me, stretching along my body.

“There, now you know,” he whispered in my ear. “You take it both ways—you like it both ways.”

When I awoke the next time, I was under the covers again and was wearing my pajama shorts. Tim was dressed in a T-shirt and those jeans and that cowboy hat and boots, and he was looking out between the curtains at the parking lot. The air-conditioning was on high, and I only faintly could detect any unnatural scent in the air. Everything seemed so normal. I might have written the night off as some sort of gigantic guilty wet dream connected with letting Tim blow me in the car at the restaurant, but my wrists were sore, as was the area around my mouth and, of course, my ass. I still felt a little woozy and disoriented.

“Tim . . .”

“Man, did you ever sleep deeply. And toss and turn. Never saw anyone toss and turn like that, Chad.”

“Tim . . .”

“Yes, Chad?”

“Pick up your gear and get out. This ride is over.”

“I don’t think so, Chad. Not until we’ve had breakfast and you’ve gotten me up the road a ways. I forgot to tell you,” upon which he flipped out his wallet, showing me some sort of fancy badge. “I’m a vice cop. I’m cruising the highway because there are too many reports of someone out here picking up young guys and raping them.”

“And you thought I . . .?”

“Sure. Why not? You fit the pattern.”

“But then when you found out—”

“I like my job, Chad. It gives me some incentives I otherwise wouldn’t get. You had such a nice big cock. And it would be my word against yours, wouldn’t it? And I’m the one with the badge. So how about breakfast, then?”

“Yes. Right.”

When we started off in the SUV, I told Tim I wasn’t feeling real well yet, and Tim asked if he could drive a spell after breakfast. Said he’d never driven a big fancy SUV. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.

“I’m taking off south on the next highway we come to, Chad. You going that way or continuing east on this road?”

“What? Oh, I continue east on this road.”

When we were almost at the ramp to where Tim wanted to head south, he pulled over to the left shoulder and onto a graveled median cross-over road. It was a long, windy one, and Tim pulled up to where the SUV would be very hard to spot from either direction.

“What’s this for, Tim? You could have pulled right off to the exit ramp. I’d have let you off there. You don’t want to be crossing the highway from here.”

Tim took the keys out of the ignition and palmed them. “You can have these back, if you do exactly as I say.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get in the backseat.”

“Tim.”

“Get in the backseat now. I’m sure those seats do go down to provide plenty of room for us.”

Tim stripped naked as he moved to the backseat and pushed the seats down flat. We both went back there, sitting close together on the flattened surface.

“Kiss me, Chad,” Tim said. I just looked up at him, and he dangled the car keys in front of my face, opened his window and tossed them out. Then he pulled me to him, the two of us stretched out against each other, by the front of my shirt. He kissed me on the lips, and I found myself responding. He opened my lips with his, and I let him. And when his tongue entered my mouth, my tongue was there to greet it. All thoughts of his gender and his vice cop badge had flown out of my head. My hands were flying over his body, and one of them wound up wrapped around his dick.

He came away briefly. “Now, Chad, if you ever wonder whether you like doing it with another man, you do—both ways. You like to flip-flop.”

Then he went back into a lip lock, while he started pulling my clothes off me. When I was a naked as he was, he moved over me, reversed on my body, and started sucking my cock. He had his cock pushing at my face, so I started doing to him what he was doing to me. When we were both hot and hanging heavy, he reversed on me again. He grabbed up his backpack from the floor and stuffed it under my back and buttocks, raising my butt in the air. His hands were gripping the insides of my thighs, coaxing my legs to spread. He moved his knees between them, hovering over me.

I was whimpering, “No, Tim. No, not again . . . No.”

He plunged his cock into me and pulled it out nearly all the way and then plunged in again, repeating this, going deeper with each dive.

“No, Tim . . . No!”

In. Out. In deep, revolve hips, rotate cock. Out, dive!

“Ahhhhh. Yes, yes, y-e-s! Fuck me Tim, Harder, deeper. Ahhhhhh!” I put my hips and pelvis into motion, meeting him stroke for stroke, grabbing for his buttocks with my hands, trying to add to the velocity of the strokes into me.

As he pumped me, he muttered to me. “Remember when you feel you want to talk to someone about this, that this is a vice cop’s cock in your nice tight ass. By law, I could arrest you, saying you thought I was underage, and have your name printed across the front page of your hometown newspaper for doing this with me. But this is all because I like you. All I want to do is to pay as I go, and you’ve been extra special nice to me, and you’ve got an extra special nice ass and cock, so you’ve gotten extra special nice payment.”

When he was finished, he pulled his backpack from underneath me and got out of the car. He quickly pulled on his jeans and cowboy hat and tossed his T-shirt over his shoulder. By the time I’d gotten disentangled and dressed and had found the keys and gotten the SUV turned around and back to the road, Tim had already managed to cross the three lanes of traffic. He was up on the shoulder of the ramp to the other highway and was facing me with his thumb out. A Lincoln Navigator with one male occupant had already pulled over several yards up the ramp. Tim saw me and waved and then turned and walked briskly up to the Navigator. Before I could get back on the road, he’d opened the back door of the SUV, thrown his backpack in, and then had climbed into the front seat. As I passed the exit heading east, the Navigator was gliding back on onto the exit ramp heading south.

Driving down the road, my mind went to this vice cop thing. Maybe he was just toying with me on that. I didn’t get a real good look at that badge he flashed, and he didn’t really look older than nineteen. By the time I was entering Arizona I had convinced myself that he was just playing vice cop for the kicks. He was probably playing hitchhiker for the same reason. He’d certainly taught me a thing or two about myself, though.

Once upon a time, in the very dark years and long before mankind had to worry about climate change and gas shortages, there lived an unhappy king, who ruled over a small realm in the mountains of the Hindu Kush.

Yes, he was unhappy because he only possessed a small kingdom, more a pinprick in the large world, and had no real power. But what made him even more sad was, that he was a king without a queen, simply because he was an unsuitable marriage candidate, exactly due to his small possessions. But purely by chance and because luck would have it that way, he met a beautiful Russian princess and to his joy she married him, so he finally had his queen. But he thought, that something was still wanting to his happiness.  

The queen gave him a precious gift pretty soon after the wedding festivities were over, when she gave birth to a little princess, who was as beautiful as her mother. Of course, the king was elated, but it was not exactly what he had hoped for.

He didn’t have to wait long: about a year later an even more precious present came, when a little boy saw the light of the world and his birth was heralded to all the kingdom’s populace with a royal salute of seventeen cannon shots. Having his heir apparent to the throne, the king was so overwhelmed with happiness, that he allowed all his subjects to participate in the festivities. Because now his dreams and hopes could be fulfilled: he had an heir, who would become a great warrior and who was able to expand his little kingdom far over its borders. And so little prince Aset felt very, very welcome.

His parents made sure they made it clear he was more than welcome. Each night little Aset slept between satin sheets, which were exchanged for fresh ones in the morning by one of the many, many lackeys who were in his father’s service, while dinner was served on golden platters. To make sure that the little prince would be recognizable as such his father hired a real couturier from far-away Moscow so that his little heir would always have the most exclusive, tailor-made clothes available. For Aset it was only the best of the best: doublets and trousers of the finest wools, blouses made of Chinese silk and shoes out of high-quality leather, decorated with golden buckles.

Noblemen addressed him in reverence as ‘Your Royal Highness’ and lower representatives of the human race bowed deep for him, their noses almost touching the floor, even if he only passed them in playing.

He grew into a beautiful boy with a gorgeous face, including high cheekbones and a lightly tanned skin, eyes sparkling brown as the darkest chocolates, that seemed to gleam in happiness full time, and raven-black long hair. And he was a happy child. What else could he be with so much attention?

He was always together with his sister, playing in the palace gardens and making mischief, like frightening the servants or making a bonfire, which accidentally went out of control and nearly burned down the king’s private mosque.

Exactly the fact, that he spent so much time with her, caused something peculiar. Every time he looked at his sister, he found her more beautiful and intriguing than he himself was. Her clothes were of an even higher quality and finesse than his own velvet-blue tunics, especially when she wore one of the crinolines, that were tailormade for her slim delicate figure. Her way of walking and moving was of a splendid grace and delicacy and he started to adore his sister, not only for who she was, but as well for how she looked and behaved.

After a long sleepless night of thinking he decided: he wanted to be exactly like his sister. And bold as always, he started preparations for this change-over right away: he stole clothing from her closets and fought his way into one of her dresses, appropriated some make up and started to experiment and exercise with it, he let his hair grow and he studied her way of walking and moving into great detail, rehearsing it during the evenings in front of the mirror. 

Only when he was satisfied with the results he dared to dress up like a princess and with jelly knees he knocked at his sister’s door. He didn’t need to fear: she was delighted with the result and even started to complement his education as a true princess, teaching him how to embroider handkerchiefs and napkins, to spin yarns from raw wool. She introduced him to the sweetest poetry, the world of calligraphy and painting and to music that was so beautiful, that he couldn’t really imagine that such wonderful sounds existed.

It took a lot of time of extremely secret preparations but once both were happy with the results they started to parade through the palace’s corridors and outside in the gardens and they did it together, Aset not as the prince but as the second princess, enjoying every second of it.

When they saw the unlikely duo, most servants forgot all respect and protocol and roared with laughter. Some older and wiser members of the household just smiled and shook their heads, saying:

“It is just a child’s whim. He’ll grow over it!”

But he didn’t grow over it; to the contrary: he expanded his investigations in the world of the female. Over time everybody got used to it…but there was one important and very decisive exception.

Because when the king heard about his son’s exploits in the palace, he was dismayed at first, seeing all his plans for the future disappear. But then he was kindled in fierce wrath and he ordered his Guard soldiers to fetch the boy and bring him before his throne.

Aset was wise enough to change hurriedly in his prince’s clothes before he appeared in front of his father, who stared at him with stern and penetrating gaze, that stern that Aset dropped his eyes to avoid the terrible glance. After a long time of tense silence, the king started to speak in a voice, roaring in fury:

“You shall not waste your time in embroidering handkerchiefs, nor with poetry and the art of music. You are destined to become a great warrior, to fight bloody battles and to reap great glory, so you can let my tiny kingdom grow many, many times. And when my dying day has passed, you are pre-ordained to become the next mighty ruler of this new realm. Is that clear to you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty”, Aset answered timidly, his eyes fixated on the tiles of the stone floor, that covered the throne room.

“Then you leave this folly and behave like you should behave or I might lose my temper. And may Allah be the witness of it!”

“Oh my, oh my”, Aset thought, “I could have sworn he already lost his temper!”

But he muttered a very careful “Yes, Your Majesty” in such a way that the uttered word could have many, many more meanings, apart from the one normally expressed in the word “Yes”.

Indeed, with the stubbornness in-born in any mountain dweller, predetermined by genetics to survive the merciless weather- and living conditions in his world, Aset persevered in what his father had mentioned a folly.

But the king didn’t accept it and he became as ruthless towards his own son as he always had been towards his subjects and enemies. Aset was dragged before the throne again, unfortunately in princess clothing this time and his father stared at him in disgust.

“You haven’t learned a bit, haven’t you, you stubborn boy”, he roared another time, “You’re as hardheaded as your Russian mother. But I’ve got means to make you change your mind!”

The imminent threat in these last words was immediately turned into a harsh reality. The king ordered, that his son was to be locked into his room and nobody was allowed to see this terrible disgrace to the dynasty, apart from a lackey, who was personally assigned to him to cater for his needs and his personal teacher, both of them being sworn to silence and secrecy. All other people, even his mother and sister, were banned from the room, which had to be placed under armed guard.

For Aset a long period of extreme loneliness began, in which he missed the companionship of his sister enormously. But it was exactly the vivid memories he had of her that made him going on most doggedly in realizing what he wanted, to be a real princess.

But they didn’t make it easy on him. On personal orders of the king both Aset’s personal lackey and teacher had to report to the king each and every evening about everything, that had transpired in Aset’s room and if there were any signs, that the prince gave up his determination.

Each evening both men shook their head in a droopy way, afraid that it might have not too happy consequences for themselves as well, but nevertheless they reported faithfully:

“I’m sorry, Sire, but he seems to persist in his wish to be a princess, no matter what we try to do about it”.

So the king had to resort to very drastic measures. Without any further warnings or discussions with his son, he ordered the prince to be stripped of all his rights, possessions and expensive clothing and shoes. He had to be dressed in the worst clothing available, lumps that even the lowliest peasant wouldn’t deem worthy of wearing and then he was banned from the Royal Family, the palace and, the worst part of it, of the whole kingdom. In one word: the king erased him from the memories of his family and the whole people of his country, in an effort to save his own face from being ridiculed as the father of such a misfit of an heir to the throne.

On a dreadful day soldiers took Aset to the border. Once they arrived, they undid the shackles that were around his wrists and ankles, pointed in some vague direction ahead of him and pushed him past the border stone. And then they stood there, keeping an eye on him, so that he wouldn’t slip back in his father’s kingdom.

Aset started walking, barefooted and hardly dressed. He disappeared in some country, where he had never been before and had no clou whatsoever in which direction he was marching.

The prince had become a beggar.

 

Over the years Aset had grown into a young man, but he remained a beggar nevertheless. But in these years, he developed techniques and strategies, that ensured his survival. He learned to beg for alms or a piece of bread when he passed through villages. He stole some apples or apricots from the trees or some eggs from an unguarded hen house and if the situation became desperate, he searched for remnants of food on the dung heaps. In really dire situations he saw no qualms to stick his head between the pig heads and savor the tiny bits of food in their feeding troughs.

When he reached the sexually mature age and had made his first acquaintance with his hormones and the resulting physical desires, he found a new modest source of income with the many camel trains, that crisscrossed the country on their way to and from far lands, loaded with precious cargoes, by renting out his body to their drivers. They were hardy, rough and really masculine men, who had grown incredibly randy after months of abstinence during their long travels through the inhospitable landscapes. Masculine and macho or not…none of them forfeited the pleasures and promises of a young and beautiful boy and Aset always got away with it, a good meal in his stomach and some silver pieces in his pockets as reward for the services he had rendered.

And when some widow or single woman in a village had a strong desire to taste the delicious fruits of love again, he was available as well. He even liked it more, because apart from a good meal and some coins, he could count on a night in a warm and soft bed as well and that was a whole lot better than sleeping on the hard, cold ground. It gave him a way to extend his chances for further survival for the next few weeks, if he was careful in spending the money.

His weight dropped and he turned really skinny by now. His skin, already lightly tanned from birth on, became a bronze brown from all exposure to the sun and other inclement elements.  But despite all suffering and humiliations he kept two things intact and that were his dignity and his will to survive and fight. No matter that he was a beggar now, he was of royal birth. The only reason that led to his present misfortunes was, that he wanted to be a princess, although the rest of the world expected him to be a prince. But he always kept his back ramrod straight, his shoulders square and his head up while his eyes burned with determination to achieve his goal: to be a princess once again! It didn’t matter much. Both princess and prince were a part of royalty so he behaved like a member of this elite.

But in the end Aset was only human as well and many nights, when he crawled away in a clump of bushes to find some solace against the howling mountain winds, he cried bitterly when he considered his fate. Or he cursed his father, who had done this to him, all the hunger, suffering and humiliations he endured over the years.

Then he remembered the words the king had once spoken:

“And may Allah be the witness of it!”

He sure hoped, that Allah had witnessed all his wanderings and hardships and would make his father accountable for them once he tried to cross the bridge to the Al-Akhirah, the afterlife, to claim his five hundred virgins. But Aset prayed that the Qadi, the Highest Judge, would refuse this claim and would send his father to the Djahannam, the Fires of Hell.  

This night he only cried, feeling desolate to the extreme and wondering how he had to survive the next day. His tears were bitter and his grieve extremely hurting.

Out of nowhere a woman’s voice said softly to him:

“Why are you weeping, my sweet boy?”

He looked around in shock and perceived a beautiful figure, in the form of a young woman, enshrouded in a bright white light. He stared at her in panic, his eyes wide open, his facial features cramped in fear.

“Are you a wicked witch?” he cried out in agony.

“No, no, no…don’t be afraid, sweet boy”, the apparition spoke soothingly, “I am not here to do you any harm. To the contrary: I am here to do you good. That is what I am supposed to do as a good fairy!”

It put him at ease somewhat but he kept looking at her in suspicion. Good fairy? He heard of them but had never believed in their existence, maybe as a child but most certainly not in the past years. And now this spectre wanted to make him believe they really existed? Or was he only hallucinating from hunger and exhaustion? Had he by any chance turned insane?

“But now tell me…”, she continued, “Why are you crying so heartrending?”

Hesitantly Aset started to tell why he cried, what had happened to him years ago and how his life had been ever since…one continuous series of misery. While progressing through the sad story, his talking became faster and more intense and in the end he almost screamed out his pain.

When he finished, the fairy nodded her head in understanding and said:

“I already noticed the nobility in you. It was perfectly clear to me that you aren’t a beggar at all”.

She seemed to ponder over his situation for a short moment and then continued:

“Then we have to do something about that, don’t you think so?”

“But what, madame?” he cried out dumbfounded, “I thought about it for years but was unable to find an answer”.

“Hush, my sweet prince”, she whispered with an enchanting smile, “That is what I am here for. Now tell me…what is your greatest wish?”

Aset considered the question. On one hand he could mention a good meal tomorrow, since he was almost certain he was only dreaming and no matter what he said, it would never come true. But on the other hand: there was doubt as well. Maybe the figure in light was really a good fairy and maybe she had the power to make his greatest dream come true. So, he answered:

“A beautiful, sweet princess would be fine, madame…but…now I think of it…”.

Embarrassed he stop talking. But the fairy invited him with soft pressure to continue his thought. Shyly he muttered:

“I wouldn’t mind a beautiful, sweet prince as well, madame. That is no problem for me. In any case a sweet person, who understands me and respects and loves me for what I am. But…”

Discouraged he shrugged and spoke:

“I guess I’m overdoing it now. I guess I’m asking too much now!”

“By no means, my boy”, the fairy replied, “Your wish is fully understandable and legitimate. Now…let me see how I can solve this tiny problem!”

After some thinking she said:

“Yes…I can get it done!”

“But…how?” Aset cried out in astonishment, “I’m asking for two contrary things, both of them even ridiculed and abhorred”.

With a mysterious smile on her face, she said:

“Don’t you worry! We fairies have very funny ways of getting things done. But…”

She stuck up her hand as in a warning.

“What?” Aset asked, his elation ebbing away.

“On one condition”, she said with friendly sternness.

Aset blinked his eyes a few times, suddenly feeling afraid. Was he selling his soul to the Devil now? But she seemed to read his thought, because she said:

“No, you’re not. The only condition is, that you may never tell anyone you met or even saw me. If you do, the wished reality in front of your eyes will become a dream again and vanish in a few seconds, leaving you emptyhanded. But…if you keep silent about our meeting your dream will become true and you will be feeling the happiness you deserve. And mind you…”

“What is next?” Aset wondered in distrust.

“I only appear to a mortal one time during his lifetime, so this is your only chance to make your dream come true. And that is all. Agreed?”

“Yes”, Aset spoke solemnly with great determination, “I swear I will keep silent about our meeting”.

“Fine”, she spoke with a satisfied smile, “Nothing better than the oath of a true prince. Then…I better start working on it. I wish you all the happiness in the world, my little sweet prince…or princess…doesn’t matter!”

That said, she miraculously receded from her corona of white light, that lingered on for a few seconds more before it extinguished as well and the night turned as dark as it had been before.

Aset kept staring at the spot where she had been, wondering if he had been dreaming it all. Finally, he laid down but realized with a mild fear that something didn’t fit. If he had dreamt it, he couldn’t see the thousands of lighted pinpricks of the stars in the dark heaven above him at the same time.

“What has happened here?” he muttered in extreme wonder.

The question was too difficult to solve and gradually he slid into a deep, refreshing sleep, dreaming of a sweet and beautiful princess…or prince. He really didn’t care about that!

As soon as the sun rose in the east, Aset opened his eyes and rose. He had completely forgotten what had happened during the night, so maybe it was just another dream. Nobody remembers all his dreams, most of them sink in oblivion in the deep crevasses of the soul.

He collected his precious few possessions, stuck them in his bag and started walking again.

It became a murderous day. Nowhere he encountered a village where he could beg, not a tree with fruit was seen and even the caravans, where he could offer his ‘special services’, were failing. He moved on…on and on, switched off his mind, only to be able to walk on without feeling his sore feet and his cramped legs, without noticing the nagging feeling of hunger and his almost leathery tongue from thirst. He just wanted the day to end and find a new shelter, only to sleep and, if he was lucky, never wake up again.

He was about to stop his journey for this day when the sun set down in the skies over the Evening Lands. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for a clump of trees or bush to make his lager there. But nothing was in sight.

But his eyes saw something else: there was a dark silhouette of a man riding a horse, its shape clearly visible against the orange-colored sky.

“Impossible”, he laughed wryly, “I see someone for the very first time this day”.

His eyes continued their search for a suitable place to sleep, but when they returned into the previous direction, he noted that the rider had approached and was actually moving directly towards him. That made him curious!

After a short span of time the rider stopped his horse immediately in front of him. With the man sitting higher, Aset had to look up but was awed by what he saw.

It was a young man, about his own age and his attitude betrayed he was of great dignity as well. He sat proud and straight in an expensive, handcrafted saddle on a white stallion, that was obviously equally noble as his rider. But the most remarkable was the young man’s face.

Aset studied it that long, that it felt almost insolent to him, but he was unable to tear his eyes away from it. The rider had a beautiful, fair face with a kind smile from both his sensual lips and his eyes, that shone like diamonds. The perfectly oval shape was surrounded by long, blond curly locks of hair.

The next thing Aset noticed was, that the young man wore the same kind of exclusive clothing that was only a memory from better days to him. He was certain: this rider was a true prince! The only difference was the red baret the young man wore, that was decorated with peacock feathers. That was something that Aset never had, much to his regret.

“Good evening, breathtaking boy”, the rider said, “Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Maximilian, Prince of Sadalinsk. Will you be so kind to tell me what your name is, my beautiful savior?”

“Yes…your…your…highness”, Aset stuttered, “My…my name is Aset”.

“Pleased to meet you, Aset”, Maximilian said with a warm smile, “May I ask where you are going to?”

“Don’t really know, your highness”, Aset replied, feeling more and more insecure from some sudden feeling he couldn’t describe, “Somewhere that way!”

He waved vaguely in the direction of the setting sun.

“Oh, that suits me just fine”, Maximilian laughed, although Aset couldn’t help thinking it was more some kind of a giggle, “I have to go there as well. Why don’t you join me and come with me to my palace?”

“But your highness”, Aset protested weakly, “You said you are a prince. I am just the most trifling, humble beggar imaginable in your whole kingdom”.

“No, you aren’t”, Maximilian said, “I can see you are a prince as well…maybe even a princess”.

“How can you know that, your highness?” Aset informed quite confused.

“It is not the clothes you wear, that make you what you are”, Maximilian answered, “It is your attitude that makes you what you are! Despite your poor clothes you behave like a proud young man. And that tells me, that you are high nobility by birth as well! But it also tells me, that your luck turned against you for some reason, bringing you in your present troubles. So, how about it? Will you join me?”

In all honesty: Maximilian gave Aset no real chance to make up his mind. He stuck out his hand downward towards the boy. Aset grabbed it and in one swift move he was lifted from the ground and ended in the saddle, right in front of Maximilian.

“But…your highness…?” he wanted to ask in wonder.

Maximilian stuck up his hand in a conjuring gesture and with a broad and re-assuring smile he said:

“Don’t call me your highness, my sweetest. Call me Maximilian. Or even better…do as my intimate friends do: call me Maxi! But you haven’t answered my question, dear. Will you come with me?”

“To do what…” Aset asked, adding hesitantly, “…Maxi?”

“To become my prince consort”, Maximilian answered without reservations, “Or…if you like that more, to become my queen!”

Aset’s mouth sagged open in surprise, but there was still one thing that troubled him from his own past experiences.

“Won’t you have trouble with your father?” he asked.

“No”, Maximilian answered decidedly while he shook his head, making the blond curls wave around it, “My father is an old and sick man. Actually, I already rule the kingdom on his behalf. He won’t notice a thing. So, can I take you with me?”

“Yes!” Aset almost yelled. His eyes spitted out a fire of deep-felt love, the first time they did so in his troublesome life, “But there is one thing left, that I want to know”.

“And that is, my dear?” Maximilian inquired, his head slightly tilted by now, but embracing Aset firmly at the same time.

“How did you find me? How did you know I would be exactly in this place?” Aset asked excited.

Maximilian rolled his eyes shortly and replied apologetically:

“That, my love, I am not allowed to disclose. If I do, I would lose the reality I have in my arms right now, because it turns into a vanishing dream. And that is a price I’m not willing to pay, because it would leave my arms empty again”.

Only then Aset remembered his meeting with the fairy and her demand for secrecy, which he vowed to maintain. He felt no inclination to break his oath, of course because he felt honor bound to keep it, but mostly because he knew now that the consequences would be terrible indeed. But he also remembered her mysterious words:

“We fairies have very funny ways of getting things done”.

“So”, Maximilian pressed the matter, somewhat impatient, “Do we agree that you are coming with me?”

“Yes!!!” Aset cried out with all of his heart.

Without another word Maximilian turned the horse around and in a slow trot they rode back towards the setting sun, that hung lazily in a sky that gradually started to show traces of purple as well.

Their first tender and intense kiss was exchanged before they had crossed yonder hill. But once they were over this hill, they disappeared from sight for any casual onlooker, if one had been there.

However, they stayed together for the rest of their lives. Maximilian developed into a wise king, who ruled his kingdom to the benefit of his people with Aset always being his trusted right hand, so every now and then as his prince-consort, but mostly as his queen!

And so they lived long and very happy for ever thereafter, growing old together. They were only forced to part, when for the first one of them the dying day had come. 

I fucking love cruising. I love walking around with my asscrack hanging out and giving guys a free show. I’m not the type of bitch to hesitate either. When a guy gives me that look or starts staring at my ass, I know just what the fuck to do: Walk over, get on my knees, pull out his cock and start sucking.

I love having cock in my mouth, feeling it get bigger and harder. Sometimes I just can’t get enough. Feeling a hard cock start throbbing in my mouth makes me so excited and I can’t wait to taste and swallow that milky load of cum. The taste of cum only makes me hornier for more cock.

One night I sucked off this huge Latino cock and just decided to strip naked and go find as many more cocks as I could. After a few minutes, I ran into this group of four guys jerking off. They were stocky bearded cub-types, which I really like a lot. I walked over and got on my knees. I started sucking one off while another started fingering my naked ass. The first guy’s cock was really thick and filled my hungry slut mouth real good. He grabbed the back of my head and started fucking my mouth deep. His cock kept hitting the back of my throat and making me slobber all over his dick. I love being treated like a fucktoy whore. After a few minutes of banging my throat, he shot a thick load of cum down my throat. I liked his cock clean and started sucking the guy who was fingering my ass.

The other two guys came over and kept jerking off while they watched me suck this guy naked. I was working his dick with my tongue when he asked if he could fuck me. I told him he definitely could and turned around to let him use my ass. He stuck his cock inside me and started to give me a good fuck deep up my hungry ass. The other two guys came closer and I started sucking one of them while the other kept jerking off while watching me get DPed. He then told the other two guys to pound the shit out of me from both ends. The guy I was sucking starting fucking my mouth while the other pounded my ass. I was in fucking heaven. I was hoping they could last because I didn’t want it to stop. I felt the guy I sucking start throbbing in my mouth and was looking forward to another thick load. He shot it down my throat, pulled out of my mouth and I thanked him.

The guy fucking my ass asked the last guy if he wanted a turn to fuck me. He said yes so he stuck his cock up my ass while I sucked the guy who had just fucked me. I could taste my ass juices all over his dick and it only made me crave more cum. I kept working his dick with my mouth and my tongue when he asked if he could cum all over my face. I told him he could do whatever he wanted. He pulled out of my mouth, held my head and jacked a huge load out of his cock onto my slutty face. He said the guy fucking my ass should do the same. He pulled out of my ass and gave me his load all over my face too. I gave both their dicks one more good lick and thanked them both. I put my clothes back on and walked home with two hot loads of cum all over my horny slutboi face. Luckily it was late at night and no one was really out or could see me very well.

I went home and jerked myself off while feeding myself their cum off my face. It was a great fucking night!

I was in my early twenties at the time and a delivery guy for a local grocery store. I had to deliver groceries one afternoon to a gay couple who lived on the outskirts of town. I had heard about them before and people had told me that they were a couple of randy old fuckers in their late sixties. Their sexual references didn’t bother me as I was still struggling with my own sexuality, so taking their groceries to them didn’t faze me.

Their bungalow was set back from the road and was completely private with a row of trees obscuring the front door and garden. I rang the doorbell but did not hear it ring so after a few presses on it I ventured around the back of the house. I peered through the kitchen window and couldn’t see anything, but when I looked through the gap in the closed curtains of the bedroom, the sight was cock erecting.

An old guy was sprawled naked on top of a younger man and the younger man was obviously
being well fucked as the old guy’s arse was going like the fucking clappers. I could not see their faces at all as the young guy was looking the other way and the old man’s face was nuzzled in the nape of the young man’s neck.

Moans and groans relayed the fact that a big cock was doing some serious plunging into young arse and the recipient was loving it. I put the groceries onto the floor and stuffed a hand down my pants to pull on my erect cock as I watched. The old guy fucking was hell bent on digging his prick as deeply as possible up the younger guy’s arse and what’s more, the young man was in for more fucking as another old man came into view, sporting a massive prick that pointed up towards his belly. I recognized the man as one of the old gays and presumed the one fucking was the other.

Mid fuck the younger guy turned his head my way and I instantly recognized him as the lad who worked in the local chippy. A twenty-something pretty boy whom I also knew to be gay and pretty insatiable.

I pulled my prick out and started wanking more seriously. The lad was still being well shafted and the other old guy was patiently waiting to get stuck in him. Fact is, I was fucking jealous and dreaming that it ought to be me getting well fucked.

Flipped onto his back, the other old man had his turn as the first fucker held the lad’s legs up so he could slide his big cock in. The lad groaned heavily as the massive prick stretched his arsehole and the first old fucker pushed his rigid cock into the lad’s willing mouth. “Fuck!” I whispered, my hand wanking furiously. I wanted some of that, the lucky young cock sucker. I must say, the lad was taking the cocks very well and was wriggling his arse against the huge prick inside him.

I was so excited I began to spunk; there was no way I could stop and my cum just splashed across the box of groceries. One hefty looking stream of jizz was across the top of a pack of yoghurts and I cheekily split the top of the most heavily splattered, letting my cum seep into the yoghurt. Zipped up and angry that I had cum too soon, I banged heavily on the door and left the cum-coated groceries on the door step, making a hasty retreat, the sound of the lad’s moaning in my ears as I departed.

It was about three days later when the two old gay gays came into the grocery shop asking for me, the delivery boy. I was afraid they were going to make a complaint and get me fired, but I was pleasantly surprised.

“Hello” said the elder of the two. “You delivered our groceries the other day didn’t you?”
I nervously told them that I had.
“We particularly enjoyed the yoghurts, didn’t we, Jim?” he said to the other guy.
“Yes, Sam, we sure did. Nice and creamy they were, too,” came the reply.
I must have blushed crimson and my heart started to race.
“In fact,” said the one called Sam, “we wondered if you could deliver some more of the same, but this time directly from source?”
He grinned at me and I knew exactly what he meant.
“Please come around to us on your day off.. You will be more than welcome,” said Jim.
“Maybe you would like to see our house from the inside rather than through our bedroom window?”
“You must have seen us having some fun with Oliver, he’s a real sweet lad and quite insatiable.”
I was a little lost for words but my dick was responding in my pants with a series of twitches.
Eventually I spoke, though my voice was a little shaky.
“I am off tomorrow actually. I could come then,” I said.
“Perfect,” said Sam; “We would really love you to come.”
“You’ll cum alright,” said Jim; “We’ll certainly see to that”.
“Anytime tomorrow lad, we will be waiting.”

Of course I could hardly sleep that night as my mind was racing and thoughts of what they were going to do to me kept me stiff all night.

The following day I showered thoroughly and checked my body in the mirror. I was in good shape and quite well defined; plus, I was pretty proud of my cock, which was above average and easily erected.

The old guys greeted me with a hug each, both of them in velour dressing gowns, which I knew covered their naked bodies.
“Take off your clothes and get comfortable, son. We want you to be comfortable and relaxed.”
I was a little nervous and shy, but began to undress as they watched me from the sofa. Down to my underpants and I could see the men were getting fidgety as their hands were stroking their covered dicks.
“Let’s see what you’ve got then, son. Take your briefs off.”
I suddenly felt pretty vulnerable but excited at the same time. My mouth was dry and my heart was thumping as I pulled my briefs down to expose my already stiff cock.
“Mmmmmmm!” said Sam; “That is one beautiful cock.”
“One beautiful, suckable cock,” said Jim;” Come here, lad.”
I walked slowly towards them and Sam reached out for my dick and Jim, my balls. Sam just began to suck on my knob and Jim dropped to his knees and began gobbling my nuts.

I was standing there, legs shaking as they pleasured me. Jim went a little further and was around at my arse pulling my cheeks apart so that he could stick his tongue in me. I helped by standing astride and the two old guys worked their oral magic upon my quivering body.
“On your knees now, son,” said Sam and the two of them stood up and slipped off their dressing gowns.

I was already on my knees and their discarded robes had me staring at two magnificent fuck rigid un cut cocks the knobs of which were full and purple.
“Suck our dicks son, get us nice and wet and stiff,” said Jim rubbing his hot knob across my lips.
I didn’t know who to suck first, both pricks were huge and mouth-watering and the balls beneath each, heavy with cum. Sam held my head and both guys stretched my mouth open with their cocks. I couldn’t believe what was happening and was wondering how slightly built Oliver had taken each prick up his tight young hole.

Wet with pre cum both cocks tasted good and they felt pretty good too. I just wondered if they were going to fuck my tight hole and I realized that I was pretty helpless to stop them.

I was a lucky lad, two big cocks to suck and feel up. I looked up at the guys, they were pretty hot for old timers, one had designer grey stubble the other electric blue eyes, both were obviously enjoying my hot mouth on their cocks.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, I need to fuck,” said Jim and the two men escorted me to their bedroom each with a hand on my arse. I lay on the bed on my back and the two old guys lay either side of me.
“Are you going to fuck me?” I asked quietly.
“You bet we are,” said Jim, tweaking my nipples.
“We’ll have you begging for our cocks, you’ll see.”

Sam got down between my legs and began to lick from my balls to my arse. I spread my legs and his tongue drove into me hot and hard. Jim grabbed my cock, his hand wanking me up and down slowly. I was breathing heavy and my heart was thumping again, the guys sure knew how to keep a dick hard.

Turned onto my belly both guys began to rim my hole, each taking a turn to lick me out, their tongues hot and rapidly licking me till my moans were constant. Fingers followed, digging into me wet with saliva. Two fingers from each guy probing up my arsehole to massage my prostate.
The feelings were intense and horny and all I could do was grip the pillow and bury my face into it, my moans now muffled.
“He’s ready and ripe for fucking,” said Sam.
“He sure is,” said Jim; “His hole is wet with saliva and begging for cock.”

Eyes shut I could feel the spongy helmet of a hot knob against my arsehole. Somebody was prizing my bum cheeks open and the knob was edging into me.
“It’s no good the lad is too tight, he needs a lot of lube before we can shag him.”
I was a little disappointed to say the least, the feel of the hot knob was pretty nice, but I guessed the guys knew what they were doing.
“We’ll lube him up and edge him a while whilst we show him our video of Oliver,” said Sam.

I was rolled back over and my arsehole plied with lube followed by the insertion of a small dildo that my arse took with ease. It was a small sample of what was to come but it felt pretty nice.
Jim put the video on showing a hot session with young Oliver, who by all accounts was a fucking little insatiable cum slut.

Fingers wanked my cock and fingers kept the small dildo firmly up my arse as I watched young Oliver’s arsehole stretched by Sam’s prick. The little cunt was moaning and begging to be fucked and the excitement of watching and being wanked took me to the edge but the guys prevented my spunk from gushing with a tight twist of my knob.

A few seconds rest and their hands were wanking me again, the dildo now being worked in and out of my greasy hole. Watching Oliver getting spit roasted was a real treat and the little cock sucker’s mouth and arse were stretched wide. Nearly spunking again the guys stopped me with a painful twist of my knob and then started wanking me again. Oliver was gobbling their two cocks now and one was creaming. His lips could not contain the sperm and it was running down his chin as the dicks carried on gob fucking. Sam began to really work on my sensitive knob, his stubble grazing the ridge of my helmet till pre cum oozed copiously from the tip prompting two tongues to lash at my knob and savour the juice. I was so close again, I didn’t know how much more I could endure so I just asked the guys to fuck me.

Five minutes of intensive dildo ramming with the addition of more lube and I was fuck ready and eager to feel an old cock inside me. Sam took the honours and turned me onto my belly, spreading my legs wide. He lifted me up onto a pillow so that my arsehole was his.
“Fuck! Lad that looks so hot and juicy,” he said, rubbing his knob against my hole.
“Push the fucker in him,” said Jim; “He’s fucking begging for it.”
Sam pushed hard and his meaty prick opened up my arsehole and he slid up me to his bull balls.
“That’s it, now fuck him hard,” said Jim, wanking his own massive piece of meat.

The feel of a big cock up my arse was something I’d been missing all my life and I now realized why guys liked being fucked. Sam’s hot prick engorged my virgin bum hole, it’s knob brushing my sensitive prostate as he journeyed into the depths of my guts.
“Fuck me!” I cried; “Fucking give me it hard.”
“He’s loving that,” said Jim wanking furiously. “Fuck him till he’s whimpering.”
I was soon whimpering alright as Sam’s hot cock was a fucking hole stretcher and I’d yet to feel Jim’s even bigger monster up my arse. The fuck was eye watering and tears were son streaming down my cheeks as Sam laid into me without mercy.
“Your turn, Jim. Ram his fuck hole good,” said Sam easing from my butt.
Jim’s monstrously stiff prick was soon driving hard into me with the stamina of a 17-year-old. The old man was a fucking legend, I was panting and whimpering as he shagged my arsehole to fucking bits.
“Oh! God!” I cried; “Oh! Fuck! Oh! Fuck me, fuck me!”
The men took turns shagging me one then the other in a shag that lasted half an hour or more. I was turned this way and that but never left without a cock up my arse for more than five seconds. My poor fuck hole was burning hot and begging for the lube Jim spread lavishly on his prick and my hole.

I was longing for their cum to juice me up and the thought of two loads swimming in my arse made my prick jump. Sam was first to pump his load into me and the old guy grunted a hefty bollock’s worth up my writhing arse followed by a shafting from Jim that had him bucking his pint of spunk deep in my raw fucked arse. My hole was almost gasping as it took all the lovely warm spunk and now I needed to unload my own baby batter.

The old men were quick to help and both tongues were soon attacking my purple knob with some ferocity. Sam’s designer stubble once again drove me crazy with lust as it bristled over my knob. Jim on the other hand was sucking both of my balls into his mouth like a couple of boiled sweets. My balls had disappeared into Jim’s mouth and my cock into Sam’s so it was no wonder that I began to shoot my fucking load, a load that at once consumed the two guys with a cum lust that made me cum even harder. They were fucking crazy for my cum and lapped every fucking drop from me yanking my balls to extract every last glob. The designer stubble was now a picture of glistening spunk and more cum dribbled from Jim’s mouth to end the session with a three way kiss and cum fest.

“If you can stay for breakfast maybe you would like a special yoghurt, lad?” said Jim, laughing.

With a lust for cum eating now, I could think of nothing better.

Back in the day….

Randy and I arrived in Istanbul that evening from the base, anticipating yet another adventure into that venerable city. We were alone together, not taking a room, knowing we would meet Mehmet, our local connection, somewhere sometime. However, we searched in vain for Mehmet throughout that city with the softness of her tussling and jostling crossing Galotta Bridge or moving among the crowds up Istaklal to Taxim Square where Ataturk stands in rigid glory.

That night I was especially annoyed because I had dressed at the height of conservative European fashion in a navy blue six button Edwardian hand tailored suit and soft black squared toed leather shoes; I carried gloves and wore an overcoat of gray chevron twill. Randy dressed for noticeable effect, for a certain wispy carelessness, which was forever keeping him embroiled him in all sorts of problems, the least of which was his wife. He, with his bottled platinum hair, cut in the laxest military fashion, kept me busy trying to rein him in when his eyes were roaming every brass and silver vendor, jewelry salesman and clothing clerk.

In one last attempt to run into Mehmet, we adjourned to the Roof Top Bar at the Hilton and had vodkas with lemon.

However, on that night, everything in so grand a city had dried up. Nobody was anywhere. Mehmet had vanished. Boredom, fatigue, and unfulfillment were settling in on us rapidly, and we feared the night to be “dead.” The gods, the great and powerful gods of pleasure, had forsaken two inveterate worshippers. We had tried and we had failed. Nothing to do but return to the base… ugh!

That night we had to take a ferry from the European to the Asian side, then a cab to Kartal and then the car ferry from Kartal to Yalova, and from Yalova a cab to the base. Bleak prospect on a fairly cool night.

That is not the route we always took, but we didn’t want to spend our last bit of mad money on a room. We finally got a cab to Kartal for about $3.00 although the 30 lira meant much more to the Turk. The taxi driver and the passenger kept passing a sweet cigarette back and forth between them while Randy puffed on Salem longs.

Later in the small seaside town of Kartal, we were waiting in an unheated dock building that served as a ticket office and waiting room. Outside, not too many yards away, was the entrance to the public restroom, where on this cold night Randy had gone. Among all these strange Turks, I was left alone dressed for an evening on the town, not a dock in a sleepy seaside village at 2:15 in the morning with men who traveled great distances to work and who rose early. I continued to sit alone, looking bored, glancing around, perhaps, in a rhetorical and indifferent manner.

Randy returned from his visit to the necessaries with a great deal more animation than when he had left. He had something momentous to relate, which he was bent on doing in an extremely agitated manner. We played our game of calming father and chirping mother to an interesting conclusion… a Turk with an endowment that comes straight from somewhere holy had exhibited himself to Randy in front of the line of urinals and bomb sites. Someone, somewhere, had thrown the marble into the wheel, and things were beginning to happen. The coffee water was getting hot.

The question now became how not to compromise our dignity and obtain the goal of some sweet desserts. We were to make no moves at all in the waiting room. Not even acknowledge with so much as a glance the Turk’s return.

Our plan worked. Randy and I remained engaged in conversation upon the Turk’s reentry and remained so until we took our seats in the upstairs open lounge room. We quieted into the ride to Yalova. Shortly after we were asea, the stifling smell of the Bafra cigarette smoke drove us out onto the upper ledge for some fresh air. With the strong breeze about us, we folded our arms. The stars twinkled on that clear night. Everything was in order, even down to the edginess of the wind.

The Turk appeared, beefier on a near appearance than I had imagined him to be. Not unattractive, and surprisingly, for his build, not menacing either. He stood squarely, of medium height, and dressed to hide his body. He looked clean in his loose fitting and comfortably worn camel-esque color suit coat. Darker trousers, with full pleats, fell in a withered fashion to the floor, revealing well worn, yet well-polished shoes. His hat was soft and non-descript. Wide, thick eyebrows spread themselves leisurely across his brow. Deep set dark, mysterious yet direct eyes punctuated his face. His Caucasian nose rose out of broad cheeks. A sweeping, full, and in-need-of-a-trim moustache nearly covered his broad upper lip. A square jaw and a forceful chin completed the picture of a silently strong man. We greeted each other in short courteous Turkish phrases. In declaring his friendship, he grasped my hand firmly stating himself to be my friend. He brought his other hand forward in a non-threatening manner and gently took my right arm and eased it downward as he released his grasp from his right hand. He guided my hand to the front of his trousers, holding it there to position it correctly. He pushed the palm of my hand toward his left thigh and onto his enormity, hidden by our coats and the night. Eros had struck and with a sure shot. My fingers, at a somewhat awkward angle, were able to surround a lengthy cock with a sausage-like thickness. A brief moment and one touch said everything. He released my arm, smiling. The Turk motioned for us to follow; Randy looked at me; I looked at Randy; we followed the Turk.

The lower level of the Kartal ferryboat contained the automotive storage. Three rows of tightly packed vehicles took up all but the merest walkway space among them. Into this maze of Mercedes trucks, Minibuses, and cars we wound ourselves until we were entering the back seat of a 1956 Chevrolet taxicab. Huge tall trucks, whose passengers were mostly already in the upper deck lounge, surrounded the taxicab. Again, darkness aided our plans. The taxi driver was stretched out asleep in the front seat. Another Turk was already in the back seat against the passenger side door, resting his head against the window. The engine was purring quietly. Our host opened the back left door, and Randy entered; I followed, and the Master of the evening scooted in beside me, closing the door behind him. He ran his hands under my arms, squeezed my chest and lifted me up on top of his lap. He reached around in front of me and unbuttoned my overcoat, my coat, and my shirt. His big powerful hands caressed my torso, squeezing me, showing me his physical power. His hips pushed upward ever so slightly as he felt me and stroked me. He ran his hands out from under my clothing and down my arms. His left hand took my left hand and brought it down behind my back and into his groin. Again, my hand grabbed through his pants that wrist thick member. Not worried that some stranger would see us in so intimate a position, I slowly massaged his dick, loosening the pants leg in such a way as to reach his manhood’s base as well as its head, so I could absorb his manliness and feel his desire so well realized. As the air began to thicken, the Turks spoke briefly to one another and eventually conveyed to Randy and me that they were going to Bursa and the man I was with played for the Bursa Sportoto or, in other words, he was a professional soccer player. At that point my hand had only touched his hardened meat and his proffered hand during the handshake. My reaction was that this man may be hung, but the votes are out as to his being a professional soccer player.

The taxi driver was awakened by some of the conversation; he arose to reveal a classically attractive Turkish face – slightly elongated into an elegant oval, dark eyes, a lean nose, the eternal moustache and well-balanced lips and sculpted chin. A favorite hat that had been worn beyond real use sat easily on his head. He looked about, saw the four of us in the backseat, spoke a few words in Turkish and lay back down. Then the revelation.

Randy eased himself over closer to his Turk, a man in his mid-thirties, also wearing a loose coat and shapeless trousers with soft dark leather shoes. Randy and his Turk hit it off beautifully. Now the aroma of Turkey filled the cab. Sweat began to activate those dry hidden scents that lurk in shirts, underwear, socks, shoes and on the skin, the scents of the city, of Bafra cigarettes, of limoncolonasi, of strong detergents, for if no other thing, the Turk is a ferociously clean person. The clothes may be well worn, and the starch and sizing long gone, but they are clean. There is a sweetness about the clean Turk, an unrealized attractiveness.

With Randy and his Turk squeezed in amorous behavior on the other side of the backseat, I was able to turn and somewhat face the soccer player. My gloves were stuffed in my coat pockets and my hands were free to roam this thick body. My first discovery occurred when I lifted my left hand from his dick as I squirmed around to face him. I reached up under his coat, the butt of my hand landed on his rock-hard pectorals and my fingers pushed into a set of lats that felt like rib eye steak meat. I was jolted instantaneously. I looked, gazed, and glued my eyes into his, both of us unflinching in the honesty of our desire. I brought my right hand around. His hands are rubbing up and down my back, touching the top of my ass cheeks. His fingers ease themselves down into my trousers at the waistband. I suck in my waist to allow his hand to push farther down over my tail. My hands are exploring this mountain of pure muscle overset by a fine layer of subcutaneous fat. Every muscle is defined. I couldn’t help but ironically think how I had so misjudged his body and how he was sculpted like some anatomical illustration. His thighs were literally ungraspable. The muscle bundles were so thick and well developed, the most I could do was apply pressure to my fingers from my arms because I could not grasp any of his upper thigh… and he was sitting in a relaxed state. I was never able to imagine just how much tougher these legs would be if they were purposely taut. Our hands continued to roam each other’s torsos. He indicated that I unbutton his pants and pull his cock out.

Just as that moment was about to occur, we heard the knocking of the stick of the ticket taker a few vehicles away, heading in our direction. We again regained a modicum of composure, so we were able to pass the tickets out through the window. The driver was even sitting up when the official came by. When the ticket taker was well gone, and the last impediment to our pleasure, the driver of the tall truck to our front left, went upstairs to the lounge, we were truly left alone to darkness and ourselves. The driver had had a long day. He again lay back down, disappearing to us behind the front seat.

The clothes, already loosened, became even looser. Soccer unbuckled me and then began the long elaborate unbuttoning of a man’s trousers in Turkey. With the last button of my fly open, Soccer took both his hands and scooped my trousers off my tail, which he began to massage with his firm hands and determined fingers. Then he turned me around again, so I was facing him. He placed his right hand behind my head and brought my face to his. His pouting, deep red lips moved forward to my own. The hairs of his moustache skimmed my upper lip as he pressed the blessedness of his sensitivity and the strength radiating from his mouth to mine. I wished I had been drunk or intoxicated, for I could then blame my response upon some alien concoction in my bl**d. But I was cold sober when the magic of his desire transported me into another world. Although male, I was experiencing a man for the first time, a man who had come out of nowhere and who had penetrated my being so deeply with a simple kiss. I was so shaken by the gentle power of his kiss that I would not kiss him again. In his kiss was a power that lay beyond sex and I didn’t know if my being could be taken there a second time, knowing in the sobriety of the moment I would never be kissed like this again. And in the three decades that have passed, I haven’t, at least not in this world. I was overcome by a decidedly feminine streak that dissuaded me from lingering in the world of his lips, for what reason I’ll never know. I didn’t mind giving him my body as he was giving me his, but the kiss, that kiss that has remained with me, was not to be repeated.

His hands pressed my rib cage as I turned my mouth from his — not from pleasure, but from too much pleasure, too much soul. I must have felt tender and young and vulnerable to him, him of the strong hands and slightly roughened palms. I was feeling the salt of the earth; I was feeling an ideal of nature, pure masculinity, primitive, willful man. And he had come out of nowhere. Randy and I had sought the excitement of strangers in the city with a fervor that had seemed to go unrewarded… and now, from nowhere, I was experiencing a dream in the backseat of a ’56 Chevy, afloat a car ferry in the middle of the Marmora Sea at now 3:00 in the morning surrounded by walls of vacant vehicles on a starry night.

We nuzzled and I kissed his neck and placed the side of my face against his as our hands massaged our cocks and caressed our bodies. At an odd angle and probably interfering with Randy and his Turk, Soccer and I elongated ourselves as best we could and pressed our bodies into each other. We both knew and conveyed to each other that our bodies had derived the deepest pleasures of lovemaking when we chose to make love. No novices we and yet there was the freshness of a first-time experience with someone each of us had really wanted to experience. That phantom, that ideal, that image of a man that leaves a lasting impression. We knew exactly the rarity of the moment, of the coming together of so many forces that were totally well balanced… that moment, like love, that cannot be purchased, except perhaps with the recognition of the fragility of the human heart and the sweep of time upon all things. Time hurls us forward into different realms, some of which cannot be sought, but which are bestowed by the Universe in what the religious would call Grace. That danger of loss that breeds a sad penetrating sweetness, lifting the moment of the experience into an almost mystical realm.

The soccer god beside me touched me with such tenderness and delight I shivered. Yes, I shook and held no whimper back at the unexpected rushes of pleasure his touch produced throughout my body. There came a time when, overwhelmed by my submission to the moment and to him, I contrived to kneel before him as best as I could. If my memory serves me right, somewhere in the midst of all this madness, my Turk got the driver to move the front seat forward as far as it would go. I had some room in which to find a comfortable but contorted arrangement of limbs and placed before my eyes one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

Before my tongue made contact with the godhead, before the penitent received the host, I looked up into his eyes. They gazed upon mine in an eternal knowingness of the secretiveness, the rarity, and the perfection of the moment. His gentle, brutal face was unique and all men at the same time. I was the boy, and he was the man. I was the son, and he was the father.

I stared at the huge cock before me. I squeezed it. I took my hand from his dick and squeezed my wrist. They were the same thickness. The head was full and enflamed, purplish blue along the outer flaring ridge. Pre-cum oozed sweetly from within him. I began by taking the pre-cum on the end of my tongue and covering the head with pre-cum and saliva. I did not surround the head but touched it. Licked it, swiped it in long movements. He pushed himself forward toward me and widened the spread of his legs. His hairless balls, enormous eggs, emitted a scent of confined desire. They were free for me to roll them in my fingers, lick them, suck them into my mouth and roll them around on my tongue, so totally a part of the picture that my pleasure became his pleasure and his pleasure mine. If someone were looking at us or if we were to become a statue, a static memory, and cast in bronze or carved in marble, one truly would not be able to say where his skin ended and mine began. Where we touched one another, we became one, such was the flow of energy, the raw sex, and primal urges. I was totally conscious of his consciousness, of how much he was in love with the moment. His triumph of pleasure became my triumph of pleasure. Two as one.

I withdrew my tongue and felt the slick remnants of his pre-cum within my mouth. I put my lips together and touched his piss slit. I eventually kissed the head of his cock as I had kissed him on the lips. In kissing his cock, I gave and received pleasure. My soul was touched but was not taken over and burnt to a crisp as it had been when I kissed his lips. I kissed his dick for a long time, forestalling the moment when I should part my jaws and welcome the cockhead into my mouth. As I kissed the very end of the head, I sent my tongue out to lick in an ever-outward spiraling motion as my lips reached farther and farther towards the edge of the glans. He involuntarily shook. The completely lubricated head contained more than enough liquid to cover the shaft of his dick. My hand slickened his shaft and moved in a milking fashion up and down its length. My lips regained their position. When he placed his hands, his massive, powerful hands on the back of my closely shaved neck and rubbed his fingers up and down, I surrounded his total cockhead, the only part of his massiveness I was able to ingest with my mouth and began to suck his sweetness.

After quickly fleeing moments worshipping the wonderment before me and the head of his cock, his hands moved from the back of my neck, cupped my ears and raised my head so we were once again looking into each other’s eyes. Total involvement radiated from his eyes. The eternal desire, the infernal desire of nature’s repetitious strength lay in his stare, his glance, and his look. I drank as deeply from his eyes as I drank from his cock. The boldness of our looks transported us. We were alone in the aura of our world. We were the universe experiencing itself in the backseat of that old Chevy, that primitive, that primal, that basic. The best sex is the expression of divinity, the holiness and mystery of the universe. It is the most seductive aspect of Maya, to be overcome in the total consciousness of submission to that desire. Love that desire with such abandonment that caution, will, and even survival is thrown to the winds. That is when one tastes the divinity of tantra, the sacredness of mystery filtered through desire and a devotion to its power.

When our moment of looking and communion was over, I again turned my head and my mouth to the gift that was in my hands. Like the child who finds total peace and comfort nursing at its mother’s breast, I contentedly and overwhelmingly devoured his strength, his size, and his juices. I opened my jaws to reach, of course, as far down onto the shaft as I was able, but the girth of his cockhead was such that my attempts ended with my jaw distended almost to contortion and I still had only a little more than the head in my mouth. I was able to extend my tongue down a little farther on the underside of his shaft. Again, a shudder and again a shudder through my body in response to his. I held on as gently as I could, working his shaft and containing his head within my mouth, taunting every bit of surface with my tongue and lips. I sucked. I worshipped. I adored.

Again, the hands bring my eyes to his. This time, however, while we are looking into each other’s eyes in a stare of brutal honesty, he slips his hands under my arms and pulls me up on top of him. Without kissing, we snuggle as he covers my naked body with his hands. He caresses me, he strokes me, he fondles me. I wrap my hands behind his broad muscular back. His hands drop to my tail. He squeezes me and rubs me, kneading my thighs, and then back to my tail. He reaches around and rubs his hand all over his saliva-covered balls. His finger then turns gently to beneath my balls and feels its way up to my anus. While pulling my head toward his shoulder with his left hand, he fingers my hole, teasing it, moistening it. I involuntarily push down on his finger. He again moistens the tip of his fingers on his balls and slides his finger to the very opening of my anus. It puckers at his touch; he shakes. He pushes ever so slightly, so softly, so gently. Not only is he a man among men, but he is also the true lover, the one who gives pleasure with assurety and care. I welcomed him. I succumbed to his penetration. I could offer no resistance.

I take off one of my pants legs, which at this point has merely been pushed to my ankles. As I sit back down upon him, he replaces his finger with the head of his cock. Those moments now, which I knew then erupted into explosions throughout my body, seem the least clear.

He began by simply letting my body weight rest on the fullness of his glans. As my anus pushed over the top of his cock head, ripples of greater emerging pleasure were one with the enveloping process. I never once winced or tensed with pain. His entering me with all his manhood was nothing but pure unadulterated sexual pleasure. I just kept feeling his arms and hands around my chest, squeezing and touching me, as slowly, wonderfully he brought me to him. I remember the fullness, the completeness of his being inside me. I also remember that he didn’t have to make much of a move for him to feel pleasure and for me to feel pleasure.

His completely entering me so turned him on, he had to stop any movement of any kind altogether. That’s when he massaged me, rubbed me, felt me all over, and just relished in the moment. He would brush my cock and tease my balls, but his hands concentrated on my torso. He rubbed and played with my nipples. He brushed them. He squeezed them to a pleasing discomfort that merged with the blood in my groin. Then I would remember that he was inside me. That huge, gargantuan shaft impaled me. I would lean forward and push backwards. He would whisper something quieting and stroke my back. I knew not to be too aggressive with my movements. His being in me was enough, enough and more than enough.

We sat intermingled on the edge of orgasmic bliss. He would lean toward the door, and I would turn around to the left and we would look in each other’s eyes. He would smile. I would smile. He would move his pelvis and remind me of how much of him he was giving me, how much I possessed at that moment for that moment. I can’t say he thrust his hips forward because thrust implies a forceful, if not potentially jerky movement. He eased forward and told me again of who he is and his strength and his manliness.

The activity on the right side of the back seat was of the old fashioned, active, thrusting, grunting, rutting, synchronized awkwardness variety. Soccer and I had the appearance of little more than one young fellow sitting on the lap of his larger, stronger friend. Soccer didn’t want to pull back particularly far when I would pull forward. We kept our movements limited. His fullness expanded through my entire body. My body became an extension of his manhood and of his virility. In a sweet masturbatory sort of way, my body had become his cock and his hand. As he stroked my body, he was stroking his dick. His hands were finding my sweet spots and petting them as the complete radiation of his sex came to the surface of my flesh and he teased my body as he teased his dick. His mind was so focused on his expression of himself to the universe in sexual terms that not only did I lose myself in the sexual sensations of the moment but also in the fire that radiated outward from the center of the world between his legs. He was jacking my body off while he was jacking his dick off with my body.

I was wrapped in the cocoon of his lust. I didn’t know where his dick ended, and my body began. The subtly strong aura of magnetism that swirled around us absorbed our rutting when it came to take place, when he knew if he didn’t fuck me he would sit there and my anus would squeeze the base of his dick with the f***e of youth, and simultaneously, his load would surge forward, but the explosion, the nova like expansion of his feelings before the final stroke and the madness of release would have been lost and no man wants to lose that final moment of infinity or throw it away by surprise or not experience it to the fullest by letting it creep up upon him suddenly.

Soccer knew it would come soon, but he wanted to call the moment, not let me pull it out of him when he wasn’t looking for it. The scene between this man and me was that fragilely hot. Each of us resided at the edge of the precipice. The silkiness of my ass, the tightness of my anus, and the firmness of my body suited him, excited him. The hunger of a lust I had never been privy to before was pulling deep within him. When the knot that sits at the base of his cock clicked uncontrollably and he did for the first time actually lurch with a degree of abandon, I knew that the rumblings of the volcano had awakened the supremacy of the juices. As his cockhead expanded inside me when he clenched his thighs, I could feel that the motion was coming to the ocean. That little round marble that had been tossed into the wheel back in the public restroom in Kartal was now spinning again and ready to land in the slot of oblivion. All bets were placed. The centrifugal f***e of the spin began moving outward from the center of his groin. His sweet rhythmic punctuations to my ass intensified and then backed off.

I wept with pleasure as he kept himself from anything but the most powerful and pleasing orgasm. He didn’t want anything less than the culmination of all the pleasures he had ever had. I felt that goal. As inexperienced as I was, I knew he wanted the power of our kiss to expand into a thousand million times the pleasure. We needed to jump off the precipice together and fall together through the fireworks of orgasm. We held one another, we shuddered together, rocked together, built to that one goal, the goal of that which goes beyond what has gone before. When each person knows the depths of the desire and acknowledges the depth of the desire, there is immediately established the unspoken goal… to out pleasure pleasure itself … to take each other to realms neither knew existed except that they exist in the presence of both people. The unduplicatable moment. And each person hopes for that perfection in the briefest and most intense of times… with a total stranger… and how the cosmic irony smiles, for many times it is a stranger and a stranger only who can carry one to those mysterious realms where life and pleasure and death mingle, where evil can so easily abound.

The merely hard cock had now become truly and irrevocably engorged and totally rigid. To allow his movement to continue without causing any lasting internal harm, I found I had to move down and arch my back so I could contain all his manhood. The new contortions, his increased speed, the meanderings of his hands… everything was working together to fulfill his desire that had been tweaked when the knot above his ass told him he was closer than he may have realized.

As he came closer and closer to cumming, he held me more tightly. Instead of penetrating me more deeply, we were contorting in tandem. He moved his ass under mine and mine rose and fell with the rhythm of his body. Stretch, relax; stretch, relax; stretch, relax. We rose, we fell. He stiffened, jolted one time and then lost himself in a series of uncontrollable shivers. My body continued to feel his manhood within me. He continued to hold me, rubbing his forehead on the back of my neck as he shook, in ever decreasing spasms.

I reached down, scooped up a palm full of moisture from between our legs. Within seconds, I exploded as Soccer spasmodically pushed himself up inside me one last time. When the time for the smiles came, and Soccer had a beautiful smile, we smiled.

Now rather unclothed, but fortunately with a handkerchief, I began the cleanup. Randy and I chatted. The short of that was while I was getting dressed, the backseat passenger slid into the front seat and the slender, oval faced taxi driver came into the back seat to get a piece of Randy.

Later, when we had washed the smell of sex from our bodies as best we could, we returned as unobtrusively as possible to the public upstairs lounge, endured the Bafra cigarette smell and made it back to base to sleep and dream of that voyage in heaven.

“I’m sorry, Mark, it seems that you are failing Biology again. There’s nothing I can do for you, you’ve done none of the assigned work and skipped over sixty percent of the classes.”

He was sitting in the chair in front of me, legs spread, face turned to the window. He didn’t seem to care or even listen, as usual. I sighed. Mark Owens was 20 and he was not going to be graduating from high school this year. Again. All he was good at was causing trouble, getting into fights, smoking weed in the back of the school and talking back to teachers. This time he didn’t feel talkative. 

“Listen, Mark, if you can-“

Suddenly, he stood up, so abruptly that the chair flew back a few feet. Mark was towering over me, his frame quite impressive, with broad shoulders and defined muscles bulging from under his tight fitting black T shirt. He must have been over 6 feet tall.

“No, you listen, scumbag” he roared. “You fuck me over third time in a row. I’m sick of your bullshit! If not for you, I’d be long gone from this shithole. You’ll fucking regret this”. 

With that and a slam of the door, he was gone. I shook my head in disbelief and disappointment. I tried to help the kid, but he was just unwilling to change.

The next few days at school went by quickly. There was a lot of work wrapping up the school year. Friday afternoon I picked up a pizza on the way home, as my son Luke and I were going to watch the game together. What I didn’t know was that the night would end entirely differently.

I opened the door and the first thing I noticed was the smell. Overpowering, characteristic smoke. I felt anger wash over me. My son knew I did not tolerate drugs. I stormed upstairs to my son’s room and opened the door without knocking. 

“Luke, what is this!?” I yelled and froze at what I saw.

My son was kneeling on his bed, eyes puffy and red, a big smile on his face. He was completely naked. Then there was him. Mark, my troublesome student, taking a long puff from a joint. He was wearing a tank top. Only a tank top. There was no way I wouldn’t notice his dick, swollen and thick, probably over eight inches long. He held it in his other hand and slapped it rhythmically against my son’s face. 

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I stood there, frozen. 

“Hey, look who’s here” Mark said cockily. Slap, slap, slap, his penis hit Luke’s cheek. “Say hi to daddy, Luke”.

“Hi, Dad” my son said and laughed wholeheartedly, most definitely stoned out of his brain.

“I see you brought us a snack, how nice of you” Mark said and extended his hand. Instinctively, I handed him the pizza box. I was moving like I was in a trance. The situation felt like a bad dream. Mark took a slice of the  steaming hot pizza and took a bite.

“Mmm, delicious, don’t you agree my little slut?” He asked Luke, but stared me right in the face as he said that. “Look at your son, Mr Rogers, look how turned on he is” Mark commanded and before I knew it, my eyes darted towards Luke. 

His naked body was smooth and toned, his physique beautifully lean. His hair was short and auburn, just like mine when I was younger. His nipples were deliciously pink, just like the head of his cock, now fully erect. It was the first time I saw my son hard. His cock was much bigger than mine. The sight made me feel my underwear become tight.

“Sit down, Rogers, and watch your son have a good time” Mark commanded and I had no power but to obey. I felt powerless in his presence.

“Your daddy has been giving me a hard time at school, so I’m gonna give you something hard too” he said to my son, who only nodded and giggled, his erection bobbing up and down. Mark grabbed him by the hair and pulled Luke’s head into his crotch. The intoxicated smile didn’t disappear from my son’s face for even a moment. He rubbed his face into Mark’s dark pubic hair and sniffed audibly.

“You like the smell of these sweaty balls, boy? Tell your daddy how much.”

“Fuck, they smell so fucking good, Dad” Luke answered, then took another long whiff. “They get me higher that this fucking pot, dude”.

“Good boy, now get to cleaning. I haven’t taken a shower after the gym, so they’re nice and ripe for you.”

My son began licking Mark’s big hairy balls greedily, like he was thirsty to death. He swirled his tongue around each one, alternated between sucking each and coating them with spit. Mark’s big hard cock was resting on top of my son’s head as he was tending to his nuts. Luke loved every second of it, as evidenced by a glistening bead of precum forming at the tip of his own cock.

I was painfully hard in my pants. Why was I turned on by watching my son be a slut for my bully student? 

Mark finished his pizza and grabbed my son by the hair again. 

“Open up, time for you to get a reward. Show daddy how much you love this cock.”

My son didn’t have to be told twice. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, bliss on his face. Mark didn’t wait and shoved his monster cock into Luke’s throat. He pulled his face in, so that the whole length disappeared in my son’s mouth, his nose now buried in Mark’s bushy pubes. Luke gagged, but Mark kept his head secured in place, forcing him to choke and slobber all over that fat rod. After a few more seconds that felt like hours, he released my son’s head. He gasped for air, a stream of saliva running down his chin. Strangely, he was still smiling. 

“Please fuck my throat daddy” he pleaded, looking at Mark. He called him daddy. Something he only called me before.

Mark let out a low laugh and grabbed Luke’s head again. Soon, his shaft was sliding in and out of my son’s throat with awful slurping and smacking sounds. Luke gagged occasionally, defeated by the size of that thing.

“Your son’s such a good hole, Roberts. He’s going to be my little bitch from now on. He’s in love with this cock, aren’t you, boy?”

“Mhmhmm” my son replied with his mouth full. Mark pulled out and slapped the dripping wet schlong on Luke’s face. 

“I love daddy’s dick so much, I need it, I want it” he pleaded. “So musky, so delicious, I love it more than anything” he said with a big smile and buried his face in Mark’s crotch again to keep taking in the smell.

It was true. It was so strong that it overpowered even the weed. I could smell it myself and It made my small cock stiffen painfully.

“Lie down” Mark said and Luke obeyed. He lay down on his back and lifted his legs up, knowing what’s about to happen. Mark stood on the edge of the bed and aligned his cock with my son’s ass. I was right in front of them, Mark facing me. He started sliding his big dick, wet from Luke’s spit, up and down along my son’s crack. Luke whimpered and moaned ecstatically. His head tilted back in a way I could see his expression.

“Please, please, put it in me already” he asked finally.

“What was it?” Mark teased, taking another hit of his joint.

“Fuck me daddy! Destroy my hole!” My son pleaded desperately. 

Without a warning, Mark shoved his rock hard tool all the way up my son’s hole. He screamed in both pain and extreme pleasure, then started moaning as Mark began pounding him mercilessly.

“Tell your dad how much you like your hole stretched” Mark demanded.

Luke made eye contact with me. He seemed to be barely lucid, both from the weed and the cock he was getting.

“Fuck, dad, this is so good. This big cock is stretching me out so nice.” Slap, slap, slap. Deep, forceful strokes. “I’m gonna be so loose for daddy, I’m gonna be so loose” my son whimpered as if in a dream. He stuck out his tongue like a dog, his eyes rolling back and drool dripping all over. 

It was then that I came in my pants. It was so embarrassing. Why did my son getting owned turn me on so much?

Mark didn’t stop. He abused my son’s willing asshole for what felt like long hours, before he pulled out.

“No! Daddy, please don’t pull out, fuck me more!” Luke cried out desperately.

“I’m not done with you, slut, get over here” Mark sat on the bed and spread his legs. A strand of gooey precum dripped down from his swollen cock head onto the bed. My son immediately positioned himself on top and sat right on Mark’s erection. He lowered himself on it right to the balls.

“Fuuuuuck, yessssss” he moaned, then accepted a puff from the joint Mark offered him. Then, they exchanged a sloppy, wet kiss, saliva flowing down their faces. Mark grabbed Luke’s thighs and started moving him up and down on his glistening shaft. He was using my son like a toy, just a cocksleeve.

“I’m so fucking high and this dick is so good” my son chuckled “I fucking love being full of this cock, I love my hole stretching around it”.

Mark increased the pace, impaling my son relentlessly on his pole. He placed two fingers in Luke’s mouth to shut him up, the boy obediently sucking on them right away.

“See, Roberts? Your son knows what’s best for him. He’s not afraid to admit he’s addicted to my cock. You, on the other hand, are a pathetic kittle man who can’t stop his son from whoring out and cums when he sees a real man fuck him” Mark looked me straight in the face while totally owning my only child. Shit, he noticed. He must have noticed that I got hard again, then. Or not, since my cock was too small.

“From now on I’ll be fucking your son all day every day until the end of the next school year, when you will nicely let me pass biology with an A.”

I nodded vigorously. I had to let him have it, seeing that he should be in control of me. 

“Yes, yes, fuck me every day daddy! I’m just a hole for your sweaty dick!” my son yelled and sudenly started cumming. His cock swelled up, then started spraying all over the place. One, then two, then three ropes of hot cum erupted from his dick.

“Fuck, your asshole is gripping my cock so tightly” Mark groaned and pulled my son as deep down onto his cock as he could. His big hairy nuts tightened and contracted, sending the first wave of thick juice into my son’s used hole. 

“Fill me up, daddy! More, more, more! Fucking flood my guts!” my son cried out.

After what felt like long minutes, Mark pulled out and told Luke to position himself on all fours. My son kneeled on the bed, his ass now turned to me, allowing me to look at his stretched, gaping asshole, round as a perfect circle and red from the merciless punding. Mark shoved his semen-coated dick into Luke’s mouth for cleanup.

“Roberts, you’ve been good and listened to me, so as a reward you can eat my load out of your son” Mark said.

“Thank you, Sir!” I yelled and quickly dove into my son’s open hole. I needed to taste even the last trace of that divine cock, the juice that it produced and pumped into my offspring.

“Yeah, Dad, get in there” my son moaned “There’s so much inside me”. 

And there was. Soon, the hot, thick seed started flooding my tongue, and I knew with each gulp that I was going to let Mark do whatever he wanted to my son and me, for he was the superior man. My son’s sweaty abused hole glazed with the bully’s jizz was the best dessert I’ve ever tasted.

“You like it, baby?” he asked Luke, almost with care.

“Yes daddy. My dad is licking my asshole like crazy. Makes me want to get fucked again.”

“Don’t worry, princess, your hole is never going to be tight again. I’ll fuck your brains out, my pretty little cocksleeve.”

I kept sucking the last drops of delicious cum out of my son’s destroyed hole. The taste was addicting.

“Please, Sir, fuck my son again and let me clean out his cunt for you. I need more of your sweet juice!” I heard myself say.

“I don’t care what YOU want!” Mark growled, his cock fully hard again, ready to penetrate my slutty son. “First, go fetch us some drinks, while I impregnate your son again.”

“Yes, sir!”

I left the room as he entered Luke’s willing hole.

A few weeks later.

Master Mark’s toes are in my mouth. I keep sucking like the good slave I am. I gave everything to Master Mark. All the money I earn, my car and my son. Luke loves Master’s cock. He probably loves it more than he loves me. He’s riding it like the dirty cocksleeve he is, impaling himself on the virile rod like his life depends on it. 

Mark needs his balls drained four times a day. He fucks my son for hours and lets me watch when I am good. Sometimes he even lets me suck his load out of my son’s asshole. It stays open now. Master can enter it whenever he wants to. My son is a cum drunk whore, stoned more often than not. He loves his life as a cocksleeve and knows he’s his Master’s favorite toy. Our house smells like cum, weed and Master’s heavy sweaty musk.  I’m so proud of my slutty son and I love tasting Master’s cock on his cunt after they’re done. Everything is just how it’s supposed to be.

Let me start by saying up until I was 18 years old, I had never had any contact with gay men. My name is Anthony and here is my story.

When I was 17, and still in high school, an old friend told me there was an opening at his company for an apprentice. He had mentioned that the only hold back was my age, but when you fill out the application and all other documents, put down your age as 18 because no one will check. So when I met with the Apprentice Committee, I did just that and I was accepted into he program. Everything was great, I learned how to do different jobs, etc.; After 2 months of probation, I met with the Apprentice Committee and was told that I would be starting lessons, which are handed in on a weekly basis. The lessons would be graded and that would be how I would advance.

The year went by and everything was going good, until one day, I received a message that had to see the president. When I went to his office, I met with with Mr. Andrews, who was a stocky man around 50 years old, after he introduced himself, and I sat down, he opened a folder on his desk and said he had reviewed my application and my grades and said he liked the marks I got on my lessons, but there was a problem, my age on the application. He had done some investigation and found that I had lied on the application. He went on to say that he was going to terminate my apprenticeship and also turn all the documentation to the local authorities for a criminal investigation. I am not a strong person, I felt myself getting ready to cry; he asked me if I had anything to say … all I could get out was “is there anything I can do to make this go away”. At first he said what do you mean, then he went on and said let me think about it, give me a number where I can reach you. A week went by and I was getting more nervous, when my cell phone rang and it is Mr. Andrews. I thought over our conversation and I would like to talk more about it, but not in my office; come to my home tonight at 7 p.m.

At 7 p.m. I was at his door when he opened it and told me to come in. I followed him into the living room and sat in a chair facing him on the couch. I thought to myself, he must have taken a shower because he had on a robe and slippers. Before I could say anything, he said how willing are you to make this go away. Not sure what he meant, I said I was, then he said I am going to record this conversation so there is no misunderstanding. I will disregard your lies if your are willing to become my “boy”. I don’t know what you man, that was when he said you would be my slave for me to do whatever I want to you; now there is no discussion on this .. a simple YES or NO is all I want to hear. I wanted to say no, but I didn’t want to face any problems, I said yes. Mr Andrews assured me that no one will know about our agreement.

He now told me to stand and get undressed, he laughed and said I want to see what I own. I started to undress and he said don’t be shy and hurry up. Standing naked in front of him, he commented on how skinny I was, then he made come close to him and he grabbed my penis. What is this, it can’t be a cock, it’s too small, looks more like a large clit on a girl. With that, he stood up and took off his robe and he was naked. Now this is a man’s cock. he was semi hard and he made me hold it. Well first of all from now on when you are in my presence you will address me as MASTER, and I will call you “fag”. Now fag, get on your knees and take your master’s cock in your mouth and suck it. I wanted to run, but I did as I was told not really knowing what I was doing as he pushed his cock to the back of my throat. I was really a shy naïve guy, I didn’t even have a girlfriend and for sex I had only jerked off a couple of times. Now I was sucking a man’s cock as he held my head and pushed it further in my mouth as I began to choke.

Master told me to look at him as I sucked he wanted to see his cock sucking fag, he had his phone out and was taking a video of me sucking him. After what seemed like forever, I felt his cock growing harder and now he was fucking my mouth like it was a cunt … then without any warning, he started to cum shooting load after load down my throat and telling me to swallow all of it. Once he was finished he pulled his cock back out and I was going to get up; what do you think you are doing, I will tell you when to get up … you still have some unfinished cleaning to do. Not only are you my cock fag, you are going to me my urinal, open your mouth and make sure you don’t getting any of my piss on my floor; he then put his cock head to my opened mouth and began to pee in my mouth. The taste was terrible and I thought I was going to vomit but I did as he instructed swallowing all his piss, after he finished, I was allowed to stand and get dressed. Well Fag, I have to go out so you can leave, but when I call you, you will come to me as I instruct; and then he handed me a bag and he told me to look inside. It was a large dildo … I want you to put this up your pussy ass each night when you go to sleep and trust me you will than me when I see you for our next training session.

TO BE CONTINUED

After my first time having sex with a man I immediately became curious as to how it felt being fucked. About how it felt having a dick inside your ass and how it felt to feel the dick of a man pulsating inside you filling you with cum as he moaned in pure pleasure. So one day after I had gained up enough nerve I downloaded grindr and made a profile with the name “Need Top” and put a picture of me with my boxers on. 

Right when I hit complete I got responses. I exchanged pics with a few guys and I saw some amazing dicks. Sadly all of them wanted to set something up for later and I needed to do it now before my nerve was gone and I backed out. Right when I was gonna give up this guy messaged me with the name “Hung Top”. He messaged me a picture showing his huge dick and showing off some of his body. 

I clicked on his profile to see his stats. He was 6’2 and was 180. He was taller then me by an inch and we were around the same weight with the same build. His dick looked amazing and he said he could host right now in his hotel room. He asked if it was ok to be dim in the room since he was dl and I of course said that would be fine. I hurried and got dressed and drove over. As I walked down the hall to his room I could feel my dick get harder and harder. When I got to his door is was open with the lock between the door and the frame so I could just walk in. 

It was dim in the room with the only light coming from a crack in the curtain letting in a little bit of light. I saw him come out of the bathroom completely naked. We made a little stupid small talk before he came over and started kissing me as if I had just came back from war and he was my husband who I had left behind. It felt amazing being kissed so hard and being felt up the way he did. He undid my pants and pulled my dick out while he hardened ever so quickly. I started stroking his as he stroked mine all while we made out. 

After a short while we went to the bed where he guided me down and got on top of me. He swung around and put his dick down my throat while he showed my dick into his mouth. There I lay with a beautiful cock in my mouth being throat fucked while I do the same to him. My first time in the 69 position was a amazing. After what seemed liked forever and man I wish it was forever he got up and rolled me over and ate me out. 

I could feel his tongue inside me and it was the best feeling. He knew how to work it and I was so filled with pleasure. I jerked myself off while being eaten out and I almost came so I had to stop. I didn’t want to cum early. After he was satisfied eating me out he came where my mouth was and put his cock in my mouth and throat fucked me. 

It made his cock nice and lubbed up for my tight virgin hole. He bent down and gave me a kiss before we went back behind me. He rolled me over and put my legs up on his shoulders and before I could say easy he slammed his huge 9 inch cock inside my tight virgin ass which had never been fucked. The pain was awful for the first minute but I didn’t want him to stop cause in a way the pain felt good. He continued to fuck me harder and harder. 

The harder he fucked me the better it felt until I finally exploded and came all over. As he fucked me in with my legs on his shoulder he took my dick and sucked it as I came making it all so much pleasure. After a few more minutes he told me he was going to cum inside me and make me his. He bent down and kissed me as he came and moaned in my mouth as his warm load went inside me. As he finished inside me we lay there for a little while longer before I left. We still talk to his day. 

18-year-old Football Quarterback Blake Sellers was not your average high school senior. Yes he looked the part with his tall body, his muscular toned frame, and his jet black hair, but for this good looking boy he had a big secret, a secret he wouldn’t share with anyone. He still believed in Santa Claus.

Christmas was his favorite time of year and every year he would write a letter to Santa and all his wishes would come true. When he was 8, he asked for a bike and he got one. When he turned 12, he asked for a football and he got that too. When he was 15, he asked a new football helmet and he got that too. Every year he got what he asked for and that’s why he never stopped believing in Santa. That is until he turned 16 & 17.

At 16 he asked for a new car and did not get it and at 17 he asked Santa for a new pair of name brand shoes and he never got those either. For some reason Santa quit answering his letters and it made Blake upset. So upset that for Christmas this year, he never wrote a letter to Santa.

After a quick football winter practice on Christmas Eve, Blake came home smelling of dirt and grass. His porcelain face covered in grime, his smile nonexistent. He was sad that the spirit of Christmas was no longer with him as Santa had forgotten him for the past 2 years.

“Marty,” Blake’s mom began as she sipped her afternoon wine, “I hate seeing our son like this. He’s not happy anymore.”

“What do you expect, we can’t keep buying him everything he asks from “Santa Claus”.” Blakes father retorted.

“I know that, but look at him, he’s so depressed. I miss his Christmas joy.”

“It’s better he finds out now before he goes to college and gets made fun of for believing in Santa.”

As night approached Blake sat in his room, dinner was waiting for him at the door. He sat his desk with a pen and paper and decided to write one final letter to Santa. This was it, this was Santa’s chance to prove he was real.

“Dear Santa,

I’m sorry if I was naughty this year. I’m sure you forgot me the past 2 years because I acted like a jerk at football practice and among other things. I promise I’ll be good. I promise I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, no questions asked. I can be good again, like I was when I was younger.

All my friends don’t believe in you and they’d make fun of me if I told them I still believe in you, which I still do. For Christmas this year how about a new set of pajamas. It’s simple and won’t take much time to magically create. Please Santa.

Anyway, I left you cookies downstairs again, one last time. I hope you like them and I hope you eat them all. I’m sorry for letting you down Santa.

Love,

Blake”

As the night drew to a close, Blake put on his tank top, his blue pajama pants, and his white tube socks. He opened his window slightly, placing his letter to Santa nearby. Blake watched as the snow fell down from the sky as it covered the neighboring houses. It was almost midnight and Blake was tired. He closed his eyes and wished that Santa would read his letter and prove once and for all he was real. With the sounds of the cold winter wind blowing in his room, Blake had fallen asleep.

Crash!

Thud!

“What was that!” Blake screamed as he heard a noise coming from downstairs.

Blake quickly got up from his bed and grabbed a baseball bat near his door. He turned to look at his window and the letter to Santa was gone and his window was shut. Blake also noticed the alarms did not go off either. Blake checked the time and it was 12:15am. Holding his bat with both hands he slowly exited his room and made his way downstairs.

The downstairs was dimly lit. The fireplace was off. The tree had subtle red and green lights blinking off and on, hard to see much. Presents a plenty were under the tree, albeit any from Santa. The brown couch and brown recliner did nothing to draw attention to how bland the living room was. As Blake reached the middle of the steps, he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He saw a figure in red and white, holding a sack full of something, and he had on black boots. Blake couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Santa.” Blake said aloud as the figure quickly turned around to see who was speaking.

“Wha? Huh?” the man said in a low gruff voice.

“Santa it is you. It’s me Blake, you read my letter, didn’t you?” Blake asked as he dropped the baseball bat and moved towards the Santa like figure.

“Why yes..cough.. I did sweet Blake and it was such a great letter too. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go now before your parents wake up.” Santa said as he gathered his bag and made way towards the back door.

“Wait, before you go, I wanted to apologize for being naughty last year.” Blake said as he hung his head low.

Santa stooped in his tracks, his face darkend from the dimly lit room, his white beard being the only thing Blake could see clearly as he made his way back to the living room.

“You naughty? never.” Santa said with his deep voice.

“It’s true Santa I was naughty the past few years. I was a jerk on the football team and I did naughty things on my phone. I sent shirtless pics to girls and they sent some pics back. I’m so upset with myself. Please forgive me Santa.” Blake said ashamed at his behavior.

“Don’t be sad. We all mistakes. You can just make it up to me later if you want.” Santa said with a smile, his teeth white and sinister.

“I’d love to Santa. How can I make it up to you?” Blake asked eagerly.

“Well, some young mans asked Santa for a few clothing items this year and I sadly ran out. The elves in the North Pole didn’t make enough.”

“How sad. Anything I can do Santa?”

“Well, you could give me some of your clothes.”

“Sure I’ll run upstairs and get them.” Blake said as he went to walk back up the stairs.

“No wait! If you go upstairs, I’ll disappear. Once you see Santa and..uh.. you look away for too long…I..uh disappear. Yeah that’s it…Ill disappear.”

“Well, I don’t want that. What other clothes are down here then?” Blake said disappointed.

“Hmm well, maybe I could have you tank top Blake. I know a young man who’s just dying to get one.”

“Okay. No problem Santa.” Blake agreed eagerly, removing off his tank top and tossing it to Santa.

Santa grabbed it with one hand as he looked at Blake from a distance. His toned hairless body, his defined abdominal muscles, the v shape pelvis, only lit up by the red and green lights blinking on the Christmas tree. He could see Blake’s perky pink nips and his little belly button.

“Thanks Blake. I also know a boy who’d love your pajama pants.”

“But I don’t have anything on underneath Santa.” Blake said unsure of what to do.

“Well, that’s okay because I got you some new pajamas, right here, in this bag.“, Santa said reaching in his bag pulling out a red union suit.

“Wow, you really did get me what I asked for. Okay Santa.” Blake said taking off his pajama pants.

Santa stared at Blake, unable to speak. He looked down at the smooth dangling uncut cock that was wiggling back and forth as Blake removed his bottoms. Santa saw the beautiful huge smooth nutsack the dangling down below the sagged low. Santa was speechless.

“Santa?” asked Blake as he tossed his bottoms over to Santa.

“Sorry boy, I mean Blake. I just forgot how much you’ve grown.”

“Oh,” Blake said covering his uncut cock up, “Sorry about that. It’s hard to be shy about it when mines the biggest at school.”

“How big might I ask?” Santa said adjusting his bulge in his red suit.

“Last time I measured I’m at 9.5 inches soft and 11 inches hard.”

“Well don’t cover up for me. Besides here’s your new pj’s you asked for.” Santa said with a smirk.

“Thanks Santa.” Blake said as he reached out for the present.

“Well before I do that and give you your present, would you mind if ate these cookies? Because once I give you your present I’ll have to go.” Santa said sadly.

“Oh shucks. Okay Santa.” Blake agreed as he covered his cock up again with both hands.

On the coffee table lay two cookies, in the shape of Christmas trees. Next to the cookies was a small glass of milk filled to the middle. Santa noticed how cute the cookies were and went to reach over them but knocked the milked over “accidentally”.

“Oh no! Blake I’m so sorry.” Santa admitted as he began to “cry”

“It’s okay Santa don’t cry. I’ll clean it up.” Blake said as he bent over in front of Santa, his hairless ass sticking up in the air.

“Thanks Blake.” Santa replied, moving his head down towards Blake’s ass, taking in a good whiff.

“I’m almost done Santa, sadly this was the last of the milk.” Blake stated as he picked up the glass and wiped away the spilled milk.

“Well shoot. I can’t eat these cookies without any milk. What will we do?” Santa said rubbing his head.

“I’m sorry Santa, I should’ve made sure there was more milk in the fridge.” Blake was sad.

“Well maybe…no…you’d never do that for me.” Santa said as he began to walk out towards the back door.

“What?! What can I do Santa?” Blake asked eagerly, hoping to please Santa.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe if you put some cream on the cookies, I’d be able to eat the cookies.” Santa said with a smile.

“What kind of cream Santa, we don’t have much. Mom already cooked Christmas dinner for later.” Blake asked unsure of what to do.

“Well maybe if you added your cream from inside you, maybe that would help me digest the cookies better.”

“Do you mean my sperm Santa?” Blake asked confusingly.

“Yes Blake, I think if you jizzed on the cookies I’d be able to eat them without milk.”

Blake stood in silence. He looked at the cookies then back at Santa. He was stunned. He’s only jizzed a few times the past year and that was just because he was horny. Blake wanted to be good for Santa but he was unsure of what to do.

“You wont be mad at me though?” Blake asked.

“Of course not, in fact if you do this for me, I’ll make sure to visit you in person every year for the rest of your life.”

“Deal.” Blake said as he walked over to the cookie plate

In the dimly lit room, Blake stood in front of the cookie plate, Santa standing right behind him. Blake slowly rubbed his hairless muscular torso to make himself feel good. Santa moved his hands on Blake’s smooth chest as well.

“It’s okay Blake, Santa wants to help make you feel comfortable.”

“Thanks Santa.” Blake moaned as he started to play with his dangling member.

Blake used his right hand to grab his pulsating veiny uncut cock and he began to slide his skin up and down slowly. Blake could feel Santa behind him, his warm body pressing up against his muscular back and his hairless ass cheeks. He could feel Santa’s rough hands on his perky pink nips, squeezing them a bit.

“Ahh!” Moaned Blake as Santa squeezed a bit too hard.

“Shh Blake, you’ll wake your parents.” Santa ordered as he began to lick the bottom of Blake’s earlobe as he continued to pinch the perky nips with his fingers.

Blakes uncut cock was growing in size as he was continuing to stroke his meat with the same motion. Santa looked down and could see Blake’s cockhead peek in and out of the foreskin, something Santa wish he could touch. Blake’s cock head started to leak some pre-cum.

“I’m starting to leak Santa, is that enough?” Blake asked as he started to rely on Santa to keep him up.

“No Blake, I need more to swallow my cookies.” Santa replied as he watched Blake continue to stroke, faster this time.

Blake was leaning all the way back on Santa now. Santa could feel Blake’s body firmly pressed against him. Santa did his best to keep the boy up. He slowly reached under Blakes bottom and began to massage the set of hairless nuts that dangled on Santa’s leg.

“Oh!” Blake moaned as he felt Santa’s hand grab his nut sack.

“Good boy. Keep stroking for Santa. Keep beating that meat. You are making Santa very happy.” Santa said with a grin.

The lights on the tree continued to blink red and green. Giving off very little light to the scene that was unfolding. Blake continued to stroke his cock with faster motions as Santa massaged his balls. Blake’s body started to perspire and Santa was getting whiffs of Blake’s natural scent.

Sniff
Sniff

“Mmmhmm. You smell really good Blake. Good enough to come with me to the north pole soon.”

“You mean it Santa?” Blake asked as his body was winding up and getting hotter.

“Oh yea boy, I mean Blake. Id love to have you come to the north pole. But first I need my cream on those cookies.”

“I’m trying Santa.” Blake said as he continued to stroke his leaking cock.

“That’s okay boy, I mean Blake. Let me help a bit more with that. Maybe I should just drink straight from the tap.” Santa said as he tuned Blake around and bent down towards the leaking cock.

“Huh?” Blake said unsure of what was happening.

Santa put his whole mouth on Blake’s cock. Slurping and bobbing his head back and forth, making sure to gag on the monstrous cock that was invading his mouth.

“Fuck!” Blake yelled before he covered his mouth, hoping not to wake his parents.

His first blow job ever and from Santa no less. Blake leaned on the arm rest of the sofa with both arms behind him as he closed his eyes and enjoyed Santa’s warm mouth encompassing his cock. Blake could feel Santa’s teeth slowly touching the skin of his cock, his warm wet moustache sticking to the base of his shaft as Santa devoured his cock. He could feel the back of Santa’s throat with every motion as Santa continued to suck viciously. Blake’s muscles tensed as he could feel himself getting close to that moment.

Slurp

Slurp

Slurp

Santa never let up. He tasted more and more of the sweet pre-cum from the 18-year-old highschooler in front of him. His sweet nectar tasting like heaven. He could feel the boys cock begin to stiffen and pulsate, he was close to cumming.

“Santa, I’m going to cum.” Blake admitted as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Good boy Blake, fill me up.” Santa muttered as he placed his entire mouth on the pulsating cock.

Splooge

Spurt

“Fuck!” Blake yelled as streams of warm liquid shot from his cock with such ferocity.

All Santa could do was swallow and swallow as fast as he could. The warm juices trying to fill his cheeks, he didn’t want to waste the sweet cum that was pouring out of the tap. Santa swallowed every single drop as he could feel the cock in his mouth bounce up and down, hitting the roof of his mouth, coating his throat.

“Oh man.” Blake moaned as he could feel his pulsating cock start to wain down and the shots of cum started to slow down as well.

Santa moved his mouth off of the shrinking uncut cock and moved his lips to the tip of the foreskin. He kissed the collapsing foreskin as it swallowed Blake’s cock head back inside. Santa licked his cum stained lips and he moaned with pleasure. The taste was divine.

“Good boy, now I can eat my cookies.” Santa said as he grabbed the plate of cookies and ate them.

“What now Santa?” Blake asked trying to take a breath, as his muscular naked body was sweating.

“Go upstairs and put on your new pjs. Be a good boy for me and don’t tell anyone you saw me. I’ll come visit you next Christmas.” Santa said as he patted Blake’s smooth face.

“You mean it.” Blake said with a grin.

“Of course boy. Now run along.” Santa said as he ushered Blake to go upstairs.

Blake grabbed his new pjs, a red union suit, and hurried upstairs. He quickly put on his new pjs, albeit they were a tad big for him. He wiped his sweat away and laid back in his bed. He was so happy to be on Santa’s good list again and he was happy that after everything Santa was real.

Christmas morning and Blake had finally woken up. He jolted up quickly and looked in his mirror. It wasn’t a dream; he had the red union suit on. He smiled and was so happy that Santa was real after all. Blake hurried downstairs and gave his mom and dad a hug as he reached for some bread to put in the toaster.

“Someone’s happy this morning.” Blakes mom said as she prepped the Christmas turkey.

“I’m just happy is all.” Blake said, keeping his Santa visit a secret.

“Well could you quiet down I’m trying to watch the news.” Blake’s father said as he tuned up the news that was on the T.V.

“And he’s finally been caught”, an African American female reporter began to say on the T.V., “Derek Fisher, also known as Naughty Santa, has been found just south of Pecan Grove Street. Derek Fisher is a known thief and sex offender, often catfishing young men pretending to be Santa. Mr. Fisher any words before the police take you in?”

“Yea” the gruff voice said, “enjoy the union suit kid.” The disheveled older man with white moustache and scruffy beard said as he looked right into the camera.

Blake stopped dead in his tracks in the kitchen. He dropped his toast and looked directly into the T.V. Blake’s Christmas spirit was gone.

THE END

Night 6

It was sunny and in the high 70’s.  It had rained the night before so it felt muggy.  Allen and I headed to a small outdoor beer garden that we spotted the day before.  Yesterday afternoon it had been full of men, many wearing leather.  We were anticipating the same this afternoon.  Sir was wearing a leather cap, leather vest over a bare chest, jeans and boots.  I was also wearing a leather cap and a leather vest over a bare chest.  But instead of jeans, I was wearing a black denim skirt that wasn’t quite knee length. It was split on the left side up to the waist.  When I stand still, the seams overlap.  When I walk, it pulls open and showing thigh all the up to the waist line.  As usual, I was also wearing wrist restraints and 14″ black leather boots.  

When we arrived at the out-of-the-way beer garden, there weren’t nearly as many men as the previous afternoon.  The patio had a dozen or so picnic tables, smaller than the US standard.  Two men could comfortably seat on each side.  There were two tables of men sitting at one end of the garden smoking cigars.  Mr. Silver headed towards the other end away from the wafting smoke. 

As we took our seats at an empty table, I turned my skirt so the slit was front and center.  The skirt pulled apart with the seams of the skirt laying across the center of my thighs.  Since the skirt was only joined at the waist and had been pulled apart by my thighs, it left nothing covering my crotch.  I sat with my hands casually folded in my lap covering my crotch and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my back.

It wasn’t long before a server came over to take our order.  He was in his mid 40’s, with a well-groomed salt and pepper beard and beer gut that was probably a few more pounds than what is healthy.   He stood opposite us.  Like most of the Germans that we had met so far, he spoke fluent English.  His greeting was unusually warm and friendly.  We ordered two wheat beers.

After our server left, I draped my left arm casually over Sir’s shoulders.  Sir placed his right hand in my lap and held my cock.  When we saw our server returning, we waited to see if he’d say anything.   He came around to our side of the table with two huge beer steins.  They were at least 32 ounce glasses.  If I drank two of these, someone would have to carry me back to the hotel.  He stood behind us and reached between in between us and put one of the beers in front of Sir.  He then put his free hand on my shoulder, leaned into me, reached around and placed the second beer in front of me.  I felt a warm squeeze on my shoulder.  He said, “My name is Johann.  You’re American, are you not.  Tell me.  Do you like the beer that I brought you?”

After a moment’s pause, Sir took his hand off my cock and reached for his beer.  I reached for mine.  As we clinked our beer steins together, we said “Prost!”  We both turned to look at Johann.  Sir complimented the beer selection and I nodded in agreement.  My cock had become fully aroused too, not knowing whether the server was checking out my cock or a bit on the clueless side.  Johann smiled and asked, “Where are you men from?”  I answered, “California.”  Johann squeezed my shoulder again and nodded towards one of the other tables that apparently needed him.  With that brief exchange, he was off to serve other customers.

Sir turned his beer stein around to grab it with his left hand.  His right hand returned to holding my cock.  He held the upper half of the shaft so that he could lightly rub his thumb in a circular motion over my piss slits.  I didn’t need beer to be come intoxicated.  Sir’s attention was intoxicating.

It was a while before Johann returned to us.  Instead of standing across from us, he stood at the end of the table next to me.  From his position, it was easy to see both of us and carry on a conversation.  It was also easy for him to look directly down into my lap and see Sir’s hand on my cock.  Johann said that most Americans walk right past the beer garden on their way to one of the clubs.  He said that this beer garden can be a lot of fun too but we have better beer than at the clubs.  Sir decided to be more obvious about his hand on my cock.  While maintaining steady eye contact with him, Sir pulled my cock up towards my abdomen and did a slow sensually stroking of my cock.  After a few strokes, he let go of my cock and let it flop into my lap.  His knuckles traced my treasure trail hair pattern up my chest where the stroked my pierced nipple.  Then he lowered his hand and grabbed my cock.  Johann responded by lightly licking his lips and smiling.  “If there’s anything I can do to make your time visit to our little beer garden more enjoyable, just ask.  I’ve got a couple of tables to check on,” and he was gone.

Johann was soon back and just as chatty.  I asked him if he’d take a pic of us and handed him my phone.  He said, “Of course” and took a couple of quick snapshots.  “You guys act as if your British. So stiff.  Show me that you like each other.”  We swiveled about and Sir wrapped his arm around my chest and pulled me into him.  “That’s better.”  This time he took more time to frame the shot and some thought as to the angle and took a few more pics.  Then he leaned into us and in a somewhat quieter voice said to Sir, “Now grab his cock like you own it.”  Johann’s forwardness stunned us.  But who were we to disagree?  Sir grabbed my cock and then started stroking it.  Johann got into this, taking all sorts of pics.  Then just as abruptly, he put down the phone in front of me and headed off to service the other customers.

We eagerly reviewed the pics.  Most of them deserved to be deleted; poorly framed or blurry.  But a couple of them captured the moment.

We continued to enjoy our beers.  The setting sun was no longer on our backs as it had dropped below a building behind the beer garden.  It was a while before Johann returned.  This time he said, “To truly enjoy a Deutscher Biergarten, you should be sitting with friends.  Let me take you over there,” as he nodded with his head the group of cigar smokers we had earlier deliberately avoided.  I looked at Sir and he looked as me and shrugged his shoulders.  Sir replied, “Sure.”  With that, Johann picked up our half-empty steins and started marking over to the men.  Sir lead and I followed.  My cock flashing as we walked the 15 or so feet to the others.  Johann put our beers down at a table where the two men sat opposite of each other so Sir and I sat down across from each other also.  Johann made quick introductions and then headed off.

I sat next to a clean shaven man in his 50’s wearing full leather and flagging red.  I can’t remember the last time that I’ve tricked with a man without a mustache.  I have a fetish for facial hair.  Leon just had no sex appeal for me.  That and the red hankie and the cigar in his breast pocket were all turn offs.  Oh well.  I hadn’t adjusted my skirt from earlier so as so as I sat down it pulled wide open.  As we continued our introductions, Leon placed his hand on my cock as if to shake hello and then removed it.

Our new friends command of English wasn’t as good as Johann.  Not that I have any room to criticize since I don’t know more than a dozen words of German.  If Johann’s intent was for us to converse, it was a dismal failure.  Leon went back to talking to his friend.  I went back to talking to Sir.  So I wasn’t expecting it when Leon reached over and grabbed my cock again.  This time he didn’t retreat.  He started to stroke my cock.  When Leon felt my cock become hard, he turned and looked me in the eyes.  I stared back and gave a slight nod of encouragement.

It didn’t take much encouragement for Leon to become more assertive.  He reached down and grabbed my balls and squeezed.  Then he started tapping on my balls.  Sir could see me respond and saw Leon’s arm was stretched into my crotch.  Sir smiled and winked.  The next time that Leon grabbed my cock, I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders back.

I was enjoying Leon’s technique when I noticed that Sir was holding a quick release hook in hand, close to his chest.  He was handling it like a fidget spinner.  I looked Sir in the eyes and then stretched out my hands and placed them palms down on the center of the table between us.  Sir nodded then reached out and placed one end of the clip on my right wrist.  Then he put his hands in his lap.  I left my hands on the table for another minute with an occasional flick of the wrist to draw attention to the restraints, as if Leon wouldn’t have already noticed.

When I pulled my hands back to my side, it didn’t take more than a moment or two for Leon to reach around to pull my right hand behind my back.  I was more than cooperative by pulling my left hand behind my back.  Click.  My hands were restrained behind my back by a complete stranger in Berlin.  No discussion about limits.  No discussion about safe words.  I was trusting that Sir would step in, if needed.

Leon became more aggressive with slapping my balls and cock.  A couple of times, I moaned “easy”.  Leon understood that what my limits were.

Johann stopped back at our table.  He looked around and said, “I see you’re becoming friends. Give me a wave if you need a beer or anything, anything at all.”

Sir put a bottle of lube on the center of the table.  Leon picked it up.  He popped off the top and poured some lube into his hand.  I was besides myself when he lubed up my cock.  I started to squirm.  I was close to cumming.

I looked across at Sir and he was smiling.  When I started cumming, I leaned into Leon and bit his leather coat to stop from screaming.  This only made Leon work my cock more intensely.  While I was able to suppress my screaming, my moaning was clearly audible.  A few of the men at the tables next to us turned to see what was going on.  Only after Leon worked every last drop of cum out of me did he stop.  

With the ending of the post-cum tortured, I returned to sitting upright.  Sir asked me, “Are you satisfied?”  I replied, “Yes.”  I turned to Leon and said, “Danke.”  He nodded and then looked back to his friend.  Sir left me sitting there restrained for another five minutes before releasing me.  

It was time to find some schnitzel for dinner.  I stood up and turned my skirt to the side.  As we headed out, we waived goodbye to Johann.

---

Footnote:

Allen Silver has been my neighbor, friend and occasional sex partner for more than 10 years.  Our trip to Berlin was the first time that we traveled together.  I can be contacted at [email protected].  Allen is more technically savvy than I am.  He maintains his own website at AllenSilver.com