Author: admin

Life was little different in the mansion hugging the snow-clad mountainside at Snowshoe than it was in Hoagie’s inn. Less demanding—in terms of service both at table and in the bed—and the surroundings certainly more sumptuous. But very little different in terms of feeling owned and controlled—and isolated, all alone in the world. I cursed Buddy nearly daily for having shown me a glimpse of what could be. I was far better off before that.

I wasn’t the only house staff member there, by any means. There was a young man named Frankie, who did the heavy work—the cleaning and laundry. And he served in Mr. Reardon’s bed as well. Reardon obviously liked his men young looking. Frankie told me he first met Reardon at an audition for a movie. In whispering tones he told me that Reardon made more movies than those that were shown on the silver screen and acclaimed for their artistry if not always by their box office returns. He also filmed male porn, which Frankie thought he probably made more money on and took more delight from than his mainstream movies.

Frankie had come to Reardon for a job, having come up through the system working on films that he couldn’t even legally talk about. Reardon hadn’t put him in a film, but he’d put him down on his studio couch and then in his bed and, finally, here at the Snowshoe house, which Frankie looked after even when the Reardons weren’t in residence. Frankie said he had no complaints—that this life was better than any he had before.

And the way Frankie said that to me rang loudly as a friendly suggestion that I should feel the same.

I was given lighter tasks—some of the light cleaning and cooking and the waiting on tables. I and Frankie—and the chauffer, Dwain, had rooms on the lower level of the villa, two flights down from the driveway and parking aprons and garages at the road side of the house. Our quarters took up one side of this floor. There was only one door leading into the other side, and that was kept closed and locked. I had my own window looking down the side of the mountain, which was one of the ski slopes of the resort. The room was quite nice. The three of us shared a bath, which was a luxury for me and would have been even more so if Dwain hadn’t asserted his position my first night there by coming into the shower stall while I was bathing and manhandling me and turning my belly to the wall and setting my channel down on his monstrous black cock and fucking me hard and rough. He took me here often as if it was a privilege Reardon had granted him for a possession that had no say in the matter.

I thought he was presumptuous and wondered if he was skating on thin ice with his employers and whether I was sinking into a bad situation where more was going on than Reardon knew and that, when it all came out, whether the burden of the blame would be given out fairly. But I needn’t have worried. The afternoon after the evening we’d arrived in Snowshoe, all of the men were taken into the Reardon’s massive master bedroom, and Reardon and Dwain took turns fucking Frankie and me on the master bed—together, Frankie’s and my faces within inches of each other and watching the effect of the fucking on each other. After they each had finished and rested, they changed positions.

Reardon’s son, Wade, who indeed was Reardon’s son by an earlier marriage—although there were suggestions that Wade was adopted—sat and watched us, in the nude, until Reardon and Dwain were finished with Frankie and me. And then Reardon waved Dwain, and Frankie, and me out of the room, and I could hear sounds of Reardon taking his son.

As far as I could determine, Reardon let no one but himself have sex with Wade beyond the first time at the Hawksbill Inn, where he let Wade take me while he fucked Wade. I knew from the way that Wade watched me, though, that he wanted me again.

I needn’t even have wondered about what Reardon knew of what happened between Dwain and Reardon’s wife, because that first full evening, as I was finishing up washing up the dishes, I heard the sounds of sex coming from the great room and peeked out to see Reardon sitting calmly at the dining table with work papers strewn out before him and him closely concentrating on, while across the room, in an overstuffed chair in front of the fire, the big, black Dwain was sitting in the chair, nude, and Mrs. Reardon, also nude, was straddling his lap and facing him—and rising and falling on his cock.

I wondered how long this would go on—how stable this environment was for me until the next man came along and bought me. And where would that next man come from? It was pretty isolated up on this mountainside, and although there were skiers aplenty on the mountain slope, the house overlooked, they seemed far away, in another world. I wondered what would happen when I was too old for men to want to buy me. What would become of me then? Wondering got me nowhere. It was all beyond my scope. But I could wonder and I could ask. I asked Frankie what he thought.

Frankie was bluntly, emotionally unattached about the questions. “The household hasn’t increased here ever since we first arrived. I don’t think you’ll be staying here. Mr. Reardon’s brought men here before. He brings them here for his movies, and then they are gone. The young men skiers are handsome and in top shape—and many of them need money, as all they want to do is to follow the hard-packed snow. Mr. Reardon makes movies here, taking advantage of their good looks and needs. I asked Dwain where the last one went and he said that he just drove the young man down into the town in the valley and dropped him off at the bus station.”

“Movies?” I asked. “They make movies up here?” And that’s when I learned about the movies Reardon made behind the scenes.

What Frankie said about the last young man brought up here scared me more. “Just let him off in the town?”

“Yes. You should be happy. You’ve said you’ve never been free. You’d be free then to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” I must have said that funny, because Frankie turned on me then.

“You could go back to whatever life and freedom you had before this man you said brought you to the States bought you.”

“There was never before,” I whispered. “There never has been a before I was owned by someone—that someone else didn’t tell me whatever I could do and didn’t take care of me. And I can’t see Mr. Reardon just sending me down to the bus station. I’m sure he paid a lot of money for me. It’s not a boast. I’m sure Hoagie would have demanded a lot of money.”

Frankie snorted at that. “You don’t seem to understand how much money there is in the kind of movies Mr. Reardon makes up here. He’ll get back his money on you in no time.”

* * * *

“Here, strip and put these on—and nothing else—and come down the hall to the door that’s open.”

Being awakened like that out of a sleep early in the morning was a shock. A larger shock was having Dwain burst in my room; they’d let me have this as a private space until now. Another shock was what Dwain was wearing: just tattered cotton pants not coming much below the knee, held up at the waist by a rope belt.

“What . . .?”

“Don’t ask. Just do it. They’re waiting.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re making a movie. The cameramen are already on the clock. Just do it. But go into the bathroom first and clean yourself out.”

I sat up in bed and picked up the shirt and pants Dwain had thrown on the bed. I knew what “clean yourself out” meant. I’d had to do that every night before I went out to dance the pole at Hoagie’s club. And so I also knew what was going to happen in this movie.

The shirt was a filmy, billowing cotton one, with a lace ruffle at the collar. Some sort of period costume. The pants were silky, navy blue. They were tight and came to just below the knee. They were tight enough on me that I needed no belt. There was no zipper opening. There was a flap of material there instead that buttoned closed.

I walked down the hall toward the open door at the other end of the house from the servants’ quarters not just trembling from fear but also pricked with curiosity. I’d never been on that side of the staircase down to the lowest level of the house. The door to that room had always been shut.

It was evident to me what the room was for and what I was doing there as soon as I entered the doorway. The room was sectioned visually. It was a large, windowless room. At the far corner from the door, a section was marked off by parquet flooring that was a world away from the rest of the room that wrapped around that on two sides. The sectioned-off area was furnished like an eighteenth-century plantation house bedroom. A false window against the far wall with heavy brocade draperies; a highboy chest and grandfather’s clock; and between them a massive wingback chair. Off to the left a four-poster bed, draped in scarlet brocade. A maroon oriental carpet on the floor. A strong hint of the opulent. This was in stark contrast to the area of the room surrounding it on two sides: cinderblock walls, painted black, concrete floor and an area of floodlights and tripods supporting movie cameras.

Two pony-tailed, scruffy looking men with eyes that kept shifting to Dwain and me were moving from camera to floodlight to camera, making adjustments. Reardon and Dwain were standing in the middle of the room, and I walked up to them.

“Do you understand what we’re doing here?” Reardon asked.

“Yes, I guess so,” I answered. He handed me a tiny receiver to plug into my ear. Dwain was already inserting his.

Reardon lifted a hand mike to his mouth. “Can you both hear me?”

We both nodded our assent.

“Just to be sure you understand, Atid. This is a fuck movie. You are the fucked. How you make it look will determine your salary. You could make nothing, if you ruin the film footage. You could make $500 if you please me—and then you could do some more films, with progressively bigger payoffs. Or you could make something less on this film and not do any more. It all depends on you—and how well you please me. You really fuck this up and I put you out of the house. So, do you want to please me?”

“Yes,” I answered, my eyes lowered to the ground.

“Now this is a special movie,” Reardon said. “I’ll give some specific directions through your ear receiver, but the gist is that there’s a slave uprising. You escape to this room. Dwain here, one of the slaves, chases you here and fucks you for at least thirty minutes. We’re putting some money into this film; I want to make a feature out of it. You can both come as often as you are able in that time. But no less than three positions. And, this is important, you are not to want it at first. You are to fight against it, and Dwain’s going to not care and is going to get rough. You can want it the second time. But you have to put up a fight before that. Furniture is going to get busted, so we’re only doing this once. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“And the last shot is going to be a close-up of your face. I want it to show that you’ve been totally fucked. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“OK, guys. In places. Let’s do this thing. I want it in the can by noon.”

They took closer to forty-five minutes of in-the-can footage, and I left with $750, so I guess my first movie star turn was pleasing to the director.

On cue, I ran into the set, with my appearance announced with the sound of a slammed door. I looked around the room in panic, and when I heard beating on the door, I moved to the other side of the bed and sank down to the floor. Dwain’s rush into the room was signaled by the sound of a door splintering. He had an ax, and for a brief moment I—and I assume the future audience—had the panicked thought that this would be a different kind of movie. But then he threw the ax aside and started to search the room.

Finding me, he dragged me up from the other side of the bed by grabbing my ankle and pulling me into the middle of the floor. I struggled with him and, pulling away, made a run for it toward the wing chair. He grabbed me by the arm and spun me around and backhanded me. Reardon wanted us to make a big play out of Dwain being a lot bigger than I was.

No acting here. I cried out and fell to the floor. He pulled me up and swung me around and backhanded me again onto the bed. I struggled around the edge of the bed toward the front of the set, making like I was trying to elude him again. He reached out and grabbed the waistband of my silk pants and they tore away from me, revealing to the cameras that I had nothing on underneath. He manhandled me around to the other side of the bed, with his hands gripping my wrists. I tried breaking away again, and in pulling me back, he knocked the grandfather’s clock over on its side.

He had me laying on my back on the bed, my head toward the cameras, him standing between my legs. He backhanded me across the cheek again, and as my head snapped to the side, Reardon instructed me through the receiver to just lay there, acting stunned. He hardly had to say that. I certainly felt stunned.

Standing over me and looking down at me, Dwain started to mumble words to me. It didn’t sound like the Dwain I knew. He was speaking in some sort of Islander dialect with French intonation and a few French words thrown in. I couldn’t understand everything, but it was something about slaves and masters and turning the tide and dirty words too, of what he was going to do to me. As he talked, he undid the rope belt around his waist and slowly unbuttoned the fly of his cotton pants. He pulled out his massive cock and stroked himself.

He climbed up on his knees beside me on the bed. At Reardon’s instruction, I rolled my head up so that the cameras could get a good look at the genuine fear in my face. Dwain straddled my chest and held my arms out and over my head and on the surface of the bed. Then, in near stereo, Reardon was giving Dwain dialogue and Dwain was repeating it about how I was going to take his cock and give him satisfaction and not do anything that would cause me to regret it. He fed his cock into my mouth and I made a big O with my lips and gagged and grunted as he face pumped me.

What followed was the series of positions and more that Reardon dictated through the receiver and that he thought his movie patrons would love to stroke to. Dwain standing back down on the floor between my legs, holding my legs out and pumping me with his cock, slapping me once, twice, three times across the face to elicit my moans. My moans and groans were picked up by the overhead mikes and amplified so that they reverberated off walls that weren’t there.

Reardon said he wanted to be artistic with this first fucking. The audience wasn’t to see the dick thrusting in and then moving in and out of my channel. What they saw was me laying on the bed, my head toward the cameras and tilted back so I was looking into the cameras. And a massive brute of a black man standing between my splayed legs. The cameras were centered on my face, and Reardon led me through the expressions and sounds to represent, unseen for now, the world’s biggest cock violating and then pumping the world’s smallest virginal hole.

This moved into me standing on the corner of the bed, facing the cameras, hanging onto the bedpost post, high up, with white-knuckled hands, wrists tied to the bedpost with strips from my silk pants, and a now-naked Dwain fucking me from the rear. Reaching up and stripping the white, billowy cotton shirt off my body, and reaching around and pumping my cock to ejaculation while continuing to service me from the rear. I was swallowed into the wing chair, my legs spread and hanging out over the arms of the chair, and crying out, as, undulating bulbous butt to the camera, Dwain crouched between my legs and fucked me and then climbed up on the arms of the chair with his knees and fed his cock into my mouth for me to clean him up.

The fadeout shot was of me lying belly down on the bed, Dwain straddling my hips and pumping long and slowly into me. This time, the root of the cock becoming larger and then smaller, repeatedly, as it plowed my ass, was featured by the film. At Reardon’s direction, the camera slowly zoomed to my face, turned toward the camera, cheek on bed. And I gave the camera the best “my eyes are swimming in cum” expression.

I was a movie star

* * * *

Over the next five weeks I was a movie star on several occasions, and I was building up quite a nice little nest egg, although I assumed that it would just be taken from me. But if it was true that at some point Reardon would have enough of me and just have me driven down to the bus station, I would have something to start on. If he let me keep it. On the off chance that he would, I did not balk at the movies, and I tried my best to give him what he wanted.

There were no more movies with Dwain. Other men were brought in. Big, strapping guys with big dicks and long staying power, all of them. I told Frankie one day that I didn’t know where Reardon got them, but he reminded me that this was why the Reardons spent part of the winter in Snowshoe—to be near ski-slope hunks who needed extra cash.

Most of the movies were costumed and in some exotic locales. And most of them were Asian, dictated, I supposed by my half-Asian looks. I wasn’t full Thai—whoever had knocked my mother up was of northern European stock, so I could pass for a variety of nationalities—my Thai genes were mainly concentrated on making my body small and willowy.

Reardon told me that my films would sell well especially because he could prove I was over eighteen despite my size—and he exaggerated the difference and the visual impact of my takings by using particularly massive men, like Dwain was, as the men who topped me in the movies.

I was so indoctrinated by the routine of the movies that I had been on the set of a South Sea Island beach for a movie short filming, dressed only in a sarong riding low on my waist and a lei around my neck one day, when I turned to see that my new movie lover was to be—Buddy. The shock of seeing him made my knees feel like rubber and I almost toppled over

He put his finger to his lips as Reardon was giving directions, and I fell silent, but I was all atremble. He too was wearing a sarong, and we were in front of a makeshift grass hut with a terrycloth covered chaise lounge beside it.

“This is a short,” Reardon was saying. “Just a blow job and a slow fuck. Lovers this time. Two positions should be enough. Something sweet.”

I wanted to burst forth with questions and accusations, but Buddy was signaling for silence. Still, my eyes bored into him, showing him all of the mixed emotions I felt.

He pulled me gently onto the set and, as Reardon instructed us to start with a kiss, he held me to his body and had his lips on mine. I resisted, still wanting to show anger, but he pushed my lips apart with his and his tongue was inside my mouth and I melted to him. As the cameras rolled, I moved my lips down his chest and his belly, while he arched his back and used the expressions on his face to show the cameras that he was transported even before I reached his cock. When I unknotted his sarong and let it fall in drapes at his feet and took possession of him with my mouth, he gasped and started a slow roll of his hips in countermovement to the movement of my mouth.

Reardon was making pleasing sounds in the receivers, telling us how good it looked and commenting on how it looked like we were longtime lovers.

Big and throbbing now, Buddy pushed me back on the chaise lounge and spread my legs while he knelt between them in a three-quarter angle that gave the cameras an unencumbered shot of my crotch. He didn’t remove my sarong; he suggestively moved his hand into the folds and slowly pushed the material aside and slow pumped me with his hand under the surface of the material for half a minute before bringing it out to where it could be seen. I grabbed the metal frame at each side of the chaise lounge hard, arched my back, and gasped and groaned as he then made love to my cock, first with his hands and then with his mouth.

I came quickly.

“That’s OK,” Reardon whispered into the receiver. “That’s fine. That shows how much you want him. Now a fuck, I think.”

Buddy had an elaborate idea how to achieve this one word. He grabbed the pillow off the top of the lounger and moved it under the small of my back and rolled my hips up. Then he started kissing me on the inner thighs and tonguing and licking my balls. He had a finger from each hand at my entrance and was rubbing that and slowly inserting his fingers and pulling my entrance open—all caught on close-up when he pulled his face away from my balls and started kissing and lick and nipping at my inner thighs and up onto my rolled-up butt cheeks. I was moaning and begging him to fuck me by now—for real, no acting needed. And then I lurched and gasped as his tongue moved between the fingers spreading my hole.

I was open to him, which was a good thing. Because suddenly, swiftly, making Reardon and the cameramen gasp as well, Buddy raised his body up and grabbed my hips in his hands, and, maintaining a three-quarter stance that gave the cameras a good angle shot, slammed his dick up into my channel viciously and brutally and began to pump me hard and deep. As could be expected, I flailed around and cried out and writhed under him. He was holding me tightly at the hips and slamming me again and again on his cock, rearing back with his pelvis until his cock was almost entirely unsheathed and then slamming it back in me. Again and again and again as I flopped around and cried out in shock and passion.

“Oh, God, that’s good. That’s golden. Fuck the sweetness; the shock transition will have them humping each other in the aisles,” Reardon murmured with an excited voice through the receivers. “God, this has got to go feature. More time. We’ll take a break after this, but more time.”

Buddy was fucking me furiously, and then, like a clock winding down, he slowly moved into a languid, deep fuck, pushing me up onto the chaise and following me and covering my body with his. Searching for my lips with his. Finding them. I encircled his torso with my arms and held him close to me. I wrapped my legs around the small of his waist, and I started moving my pelvis with the rhythm of his fuck. Showing Reardon just how close we could be as lovers. At the last minute Buddy turned to the side and, pulling out of me, arced his globby white cum across my thigh for the cameras to see.

Reardon told us we could take a break while they loaded the cameras with more film—that he was very pleased and wanted to make this a longer feature.

But Buddy said we’d stay in the embrace, that if it was OK, he’d go from slow to fast this time, and when the cameras started up again we’d already be in play.

Reardon said that would be fine. That would be great—that he wondered if Buddy was already a porn star and just hadn’t told him.

Buddy slow fucked me from behind, with our bodies stretched out and my thigh laying on top of his. He leaned his lips into my ear and kissed my lobe and took it into his mouth and nibbled on it for a moment.

“Don’t speak,” he murmured “I’ve come to take you away. I know you thought I’d deserted you. But I went to Virginia, to northern Virginia. To get a job there and someplace we could live. When I came back you were gone. It took me a long time to find out where you were. And then this was ideal. Do you want me? Do you want me like this? Like this, every night?”

“Yes. Oh, god yes,” I whispered. I moved my hand down to his cock, which was slow pumping me now, half exposed. And I stroked the cock with my fingers. I understood now. Being with him would be an adventure. There would be romantic times but also wild times and surprises. Perhaps that was what freedom was like. Perhaps that was truly sailing to the sun.

But a cloud of doubt wafted between me and the sun.

“Hoagie.”

“Don’t worry about Hoagie. Someone reported the illegal immigrants to the Feds. And then there was a question of some missing ones. I don’t think Hoagie will be thinking about you.”

“Reardon. He owns . . .”

“No one owns you. The door to this place isn’t locked. I’ll be just down the road, waiting. Just walk out. To me. If you come with me, I won’t own you either. You will be there only as long as you want to be.”

I sighed and we kissed.

The renewed fuck started slow, languid, from our current position. But before Buddy was finished, I had been taken like a dog on the sandy floor, and from above, upside down, while my shoulders were supported on the floor and Buddy was standing over me, holding my legs out and jackhammering down into my channel. At his final cry of release, he brought his cock out and showed a first flowing of semen, but then he slammed it back deep inside me and gave me two lurching flowings that were all my own.

Reardon couldn’t have been more pleased. He paid us both with bills he just kept peeling off a roll of money he’d taken from his pocket and then he was off, looking for his wife and Wade to celebrate.

Fifteen minutes after he left, I moved to the front door; I’d showered and dressed in my best clothes and retrieved my nest egg from its hiding place. I could hear the Reardons in the great room, just beyond the foyer, with Reardon telling his wife and son how well the shoot went that day, how much money he expected to gross off it.

I reached for the door knob and clicked the door open. I sensed I wasn’t alone and turned to find that Frankie had come to the kitchen doorway. He looked from me toward the great room and then back at me. Then he smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen, as I opened the door to the first free day of my life—my spirit already sailing over the sun.

– Fini –

Just a little description of what I look like . I’m a 6’2 black male around 260 lbs. I have a stocky athletic build and with shortish hair. I was around 19 when this story took place. I had went my whole entire life without ever hooking up with a guy but I caught myself thinking about sucking cock and watching gay porn more and more. 

I had a week off of work and spent a whole day edging while imagining it was me being the lucky bottom.It was about 2 hours later and I had enough couldn’t take it anymore. I was tired of just watching other people do what I wanted to do.  

I got up went to the mall and Picked up some Victoria secret underwear and thought hey why not try cruising. I tried multiple spots but I could not find anyone or I was just not doing it right. I was flustered and went back to my car to admit defeat. As I was moving things around i saw a group of men heading out of a nearby construction site. 

I didn’t pay them any attention until I heard a deep rugged breath behind me say “ I like the thong” with a little laugh as he said. I thought “great now I’m going to get laughed at” but as I turned around it was man roughly 6’5 to 6’6 rubbing his cock over his pants. He steps closer and as he does I can smell the sweat and heat of the long day on his body.  

I was shocked and didn’t know what to say to the man and before I could say anything he continues to talk and ask if he can get in my car and talk. I nervously say yes. As we both get in I can’t help but wonder what his plans are. 

I start my car and scramble to play music to ease my nerves I hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled and As I look over I see his fully hard dick and my heart is beating out of my chest. Without a word he slowly puts his hand on the back of my head closer to his cock. As I get closer I can smell the sweat from his cock. I leaned  across the seat putting his cock in my mouth and he lets out a small moan  as i do. 

I keep my mouth firmly around my his cock as I bob my head up and down. I’m Rock hard at this point, and was loving every aspect of sucking this man’s cock. He grabs my hair  to control the pace moaning louder and louder.I can’t help but think about how much I love the taste of his cock. My mouth waters as I taste his Precum in my mouth. 

He grips me harder groaning for me to swallow as he shoots his load down my throat. He twitched as I kept sucking. He left me his number and told me he’d like to be released after work again real soon but wanted more from me then just my mouth next time. I gave him head and his friend more than just head in the following months.

---

Please let me know if you guys what to hear more!

I woke up in the morning with a big smile on my face. I was so happy. I hadn’t felt like this for a very long time. Today was Sunday and my brother had no office today. I decided to dedicate this day to my brother to properly thank him for all of the time and effort that he had spent providing for me. However, I found myself all alone in my brother’s room. It was 09:00 AM. My brother is an early waker and starts his day around 06:00 AM. I quickly freshened up and went straight to the breakfast table. As expected, my brother cleaned the entire house all by himself and was preparing breakfast for both of us. My mouth dropped when I saw that he was wearing only an apron while cooking showing his awesome ass and body on display. I was lost in the plain sight of that beautiful view. I asked myself, “Am I dreaming? Is this even real? Is he trying to seduce me?” I started remembering my time with him at the club. I stood there for a couple of minutes without being noticed by him and then I greeted him, “Good morning, Bhai. How is your ass today? Hahaha.” He replied, “In a better shape than yesterday but still healing. Hahaha. I applied the cream in the morning as well and that’s why I have kept my skin open. I hope that I’m not making you uncomfortable.” I answered, “Not at all. I’m enjoying the view. Hahaha.” His face turned red with a sweet smile. He asked me, “Come here and taste the salt.” I approached him and stood too close to him. We could feel each other’s breadth in that closeness. I quickly licked the sweat from behind his right ear and responded, “The taste is good.” I observed that both of our heartbeats got pumped up. We both were taking deep and long breaths. My mind was blank and unable to think at all. We both remained in the middle of this chaos for a couple of seconds but it seemed like a lifetime. The time had stopped for us. He asked with his serious face, “Breakfast is ready. Let’s eat together.” He seemed to behave as if nothing has happened. My mind was exploding. I was terrified. I thought that I had completely ruined my relationship with my only family. We started having our breakfast silently. Almost fifteen minutes passed and still no words were spoken. This silence was killing me inside. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I screamed, “TALK TO ME. Scold me, Hit me or throw me out of this house but please say something.” Suddenly, he became alert as if I broke his trance. He replied, “Why would I hit you? You’ve not done anything. I’m the one who gave you mixed signals by showing you my spanked sore ass. I’m sorry.” I started crying loudly. I lost control of my emotions. I covered my face with my hands and put my head down on the table. He instantly came to me and gave me a tight warm hug. He didn’t say a word but I started feeling better automatically. We hugged each other for almost 5 minutes. I composed myself and told him, “I love you so very much. You’re my Everything. I don’t want to ruin our relationship.” He smiled and quickly replied, “I can never ever dislike you even for a moment in my entire life. You’re my life. I love you too.” Listening to his words triggered something in me. I grabbed his face and kissed him passionately with my tongue inside his mouth. We started making out passionately and we lost track of time. Our kiss lasted for almost 20 minutes. After our kiss, we both were smiling in bliss. There was a deep satisfaction among us. I was feeling complete. I decided to lead this relationship and asked him, “We need to talk. First, How did you get that sore ass?” Since I had already known the answer to that question that it was me who did that to him but I wanted to verify if my brother is being honest with me or not. He answered, “Our Company has recently started making a lot of losses due to some external factors. I knew that you were about to graduate college in one week and I needed to pay for your pending hostel fees. Thus, I escorted myself to this town’s only Gay Club to compensate for some extra cash. I know this is very stupid of me but this was my last option. I promise you that was my first and last time. I’m so sorry to disappoint and insult you like this. Please forgive me.” 

I: “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Abhi: “I wasn’t thinking clearly and don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

I: “You mean my own problems?”

Abhi: “Our problems. I’m sorry. I’ll never create any communication gap between us ever again.”

I: “Good.”

We all became silent for a few minutes.

I: “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Abhi: “No. Do you?”

I: “No. I experimented with a couple of guys in college but was unable to connect with them on that emotional level to be in a relationship.”

Abhi: “Same here.”

I: “I find this very interesting about the Indian / People of colour is that we find white people sexually very attractive but when it comes to having a serious relationship, we want to date our folks. Hahaha. Interestingly, the white folks too want to fuck and date mostly the white folks only.”

Abhi: “Hahaha.”

I: “This is a double-edged sword for the gay Indian community. One is that we are in rare numbers, a minuscule minority within a minority. Hahaha. Second is that most of us are looking for white folks to fuck but want to marry and have children with Indian dudes. We want a monogamous marriage. How will we ever going to marry if we aren’t sexually attracted to each other? Maybe we need to start an Arranged Gay Matrimony website? Hahaha.”

My brother started laughing loudly. I replied, “OMG. You’re so awesome. Hahaha.” Once we both calmed down a little bit.

I: “Spill the tea about your sexual experience.”

Abhi: “As I already told you that I too experimented with some dudes that I found on multiple gay hookup apps. Most guys just want to have sex and nothing more. I used to feel like a piece of meat. I want to make love and sometimes, a rough bang but connection is important to me. I didn’t get anyone as of now. Fingers crossed.”

I: “Their loss.”

My brother started smiling and told me, “That’s enough chatting, brother. Now, let’s discuss the detailed status of our company’s affairs.” We spent hours discussing our work and each other’s roles & responsibilities in our company. It was lunchtime now. My brother asked me to take some rest so that meanwhile, he could cook us lunch. I insisted to assist him but he refused. He commanded me to begin helping him from tomorrow onwards and I should enjoy this Sunday for myself. I agreed and went straight to my room and started exploring it after such a long time. I found a box in my cupboard that wasn’t mine. It must be my brother’s box. I opened it and found that he hid all his sex toys in that box. It contained a large size dildo, lube, condoms, a vibrator plug, chains, handcuffs, ropes, etc. I exclaimed, “Shit. He is so kinky. OMG.” I became too horny. I quickly opened my brother’s pictures that I took in my phone yesterday and started rubbing my dick. I was mourning loudly. I was enjoying this pleasure. I decided not to cum right now but use this sexual frustration for a good purpose. I took out the dildo from the box, wrapped it with a condom and applied lube on it and quickly came downstairs to the kitchen where he was still cooking the food. I asked him, “I found something of yours. Where should I put it?” He answered without realising the topic of discussion, “Put it where it belongs.” I ran towards him, instantly turned off the gas and forcefully inserted that 10-inch lubed dildo in his ass in one go. He screamed in pain and collapsed on the floor. He started crying out of pain and begged me to remove that dildo. I asked him not to move and let his ass adjust to it. I started passionately kissing him to relax him. His pain soon turned into pleasure when I heard him mourning. I asked him in a very dominating voice, “Are you loving this cock in your pussy?” He was unable to speak but a few words came from his mouth, “Ahhh… Oh… my… god… oh… Ahhh.” I started pushing in and out that fucking dildo in his ass. All Out at once and All In at once. I maintained my rhythm and pace. This was making him crazy. He was in so much pain and pleasure at the same time. His dick was fully hard and his precum started leaking. I too got hard by now. My animal spirits came into full force. I grabbed his throat with my bare hands and pushed him into our living room in such a way that he was on the floor carpet and I was sitting on the sofa. I commanded him, “Come on, bitch. Rub your breasts on my leg as if your life depends on it.” I ripped apart his apron and now, he was completely naked and I was fully clothed wearing skin-tight jeans. He looked at me. I tightly slapped his face and then spat on his face. He was shaking from the sheer force. I sexually humiliated him by saying, “You’re nobody right now. Just a two-dollar shameless whore. You’ve no name and no identity. You’re my sex slave. Got that slut?” He moaned and replied in his submissive voice, “Yes, Sir.” He started rubbing his nipples on my leg while I was fucking his ass with his dildo. We both were experiencing pure pleasure and ecstasy. After some time, when my brother’s nipples became sore and red by constant rubbing on my rough jeans, he again looked at me like a thirsty man looking at a pond of water. This time I couldn’t stop myself and started kissing him passionately. At that moment, I was no longer his master but his lover.  He gained control over me and started removing my clothes. First, he removed my T-shirt, then my jeans and then my underwear with his teeth. My mouth was wide open salivating. I was living my fantasy in my real life. My brother quickly started sucking my dick. He took my entire 9-inch cock in one go in his mouth. His cock sucking skills were phenomenal. He created such a suction power that I was about to cum in just a couple of minutes. After realising my delicate situation, I quickly removed his mouth from my cock and instructed him, “Bitch, Come and ride my cock.” He was gasping and took a deep breath. He said nothing and simply sat on my cock. He was riding it like a champ. He mourned loudly, “Fuck me. Fuck me hard. I’m your slut. Make me your bitch. Destroy my ass. Breed me, Master.” I once again became his master and started fucking him mercilessly. His eyes rolled back into his head. He lost control. We both were just living in that moment and felt alive. It lasted for some time and then I came in his ass. He asked me to feed him my cum. I inserted my four fingers in his ass at once and collected most of my cum from his ass and then I fed him that cum. He was moaning so loudly. We collapsed in each other’s arms and started embracing each other with love and kindness. We started kissing and he whispered in my ear, “I love you so much.” I kissed him again and bit his ear and then whispered in his ear, “I love you too.” We both started laughing. We both gained our control back and my brother told me, “Look, what you have done. We both are messy right now. Let’s go and take a shower together before lunch which I still need to cook. Hahaha.”

We went to take a shower together which was full of hugs and kisses. This was pure love. This was the best shower session of my life. After our shower, we ate our lunch together with constant smiles on our faces. I asked him, “So, Are you a bottom?”

Abhi: “I’m versatile. I love topping and bottoming in equal proportions. Hahaha.”

I: “Good. I’m versatile as well. Hahaha. So, you like rough and wild breeding, right?”

Abhi: “Yes, indeed but I don’t understand the reason why most bottoms shame their tops when they get to know that their tops also like to bottom.”

I: “Some bottoms always want to be an Alpha’s bitch. According to them, an Alpha has to be a toxic man fucker. Hahaha.”

Abhi: “Hahaha.”

Silence arrived like a deep freeze.

I hesitantly told my brother, “I need to tell you something important.”

Abhi: “Tell me.”

I: “I reached home early last evening and after finding the locked door went to the only gay club in our town…”

Abhi’s face started sweating and before I could have completed my sentence, some random words came out of his mouth, “Ahhh… What are you trying to tell me?” My brother sighed. His face dropped.

I: “It was me. I entered that private room once I saw an old hag trying to enter the same. I had no clue you were there.”

My brother looked terrified and started gasping for air. Before I could have consoled him, he ran away from the living room to his room and locked himself.

To Be Continued.

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Note: This is the first time writing anything in my life. You can contact me at my email address: [email protected]. I would love to hear your feedback as well as your ideas about this story’s future. Please feel free to contact me.

“Am I really going through with this?” Patrick McCormick thought to himself, as he hurriedly stuffed clothes from his drawers and closet into two of the larger luggage he owned and used mostly for business travel.

It wasn’t like there was any real debate going on in his head. For Patrick, there really wasn’t any other option. He had to do this, he had to obey the last commanding instructions issued to him from the most incredible superior alpha male he had ever had the honor of encountering.

This weekend, the most amazing weekend of his life, had been arranged after all by Rob. Set up weeks in advance, even if, sadly, Rob had to back out of participating at the last minute when he got a summons from the leader of the militia he belonged to.

Actually, Patrick didn’t know if they were actually a militia. Hell, they weren’t even based in Kansas let alone Wenton, but somewhere near Lubbock Texas.

Rob had always been tight-lipped about his frequent visits there, and all Patrick was absolutely certain of, was that Rob was born and raised there and it wasn’t unusual that Rob would have to nix plans they had made because there was some unexpected function or other he just had to attend.

Still, Rob had made the arrangements and had encouraged him to “enjoy” himself despite the unexpected change in his own plans.

At first, he had bulked at the idea of going through with it, not without Rob there as emotional support and backup, if nothing else. But Rob had insisted, and it was hard for Patrick to disagree especially since Rob had arranged that one of the participants would be the biggest wet dream of a man he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life, let alone amongst the regulars of Panto’s Gym.

Just the thought of Coach Chuck Myer’s made his dick twitch uncontrollably and the idea that he would finally be able to fulfill his ultimate fantasy of servicing a group of dominate, sweaty, trash-talking alpha males and top it all off with his dream stud to boot, was just more than he could have passed up on.

No, Rob didn’t really have to push too hard to get Patrick to agree to go through with his prearranged weekend of carnal debauchery, and now?… Now he was at home, three days later, quickly packing only the basic necessities he would need, before beginning his life anew as the personal property of the most virile stallion he had ever known.

Patrick felt giddy and nearly lightheaded at the mere thought of what he was doing and he flushed heatedly remembering the events that had led up to his current situation.

Having informed his wife of his plans to spend the weekend away and her deciding to use that time to spend with her lover Rhonda. Patrick had left with only his overnight kit and an anxious smile from their shared home and made his way to the rendezvous site, the back room he and Rob frequented for their little tryst.

It always afforded them the most privacy and was secure enough from the main gym to guarantee they would not be disturbed.

He and Rob both shared the minor monthly expense to keep the space for their private use and though it lacked its own private shower, it did at least have a toilet and a sink where he could “freshen” up in between sessions with Rob.

He had arrived early enough to fulfill the agreed-upon requirements laid out to him by Rob before he left. The instructions were simple, clear, and precise. He was to be naked, and kneeling on the floor, wearing only the black latex hood that was meant solely for his anonymity.

It was a simple disguise that left the lower part of his face, or more importantly, his mouth, fully exposed and accessible for the guys that would be arriving about seven o’clock that evening.

Rob hadn’t been too specific about how many guys would be arriving, only that coach Myers had assured him he would line up suitable candidates that could give Patrick the kind of experience he had always longed for.

After preparing himself and taking the submissive position of kneeling on the floor at the foot of the king-sized bed in the otherwise dark and modestly furnished room, fully naked, with his arms locked behind him and his legs spread, fully exposing his vulnerable genitals and facing the door. Patrick’s alter ego, Pansy knelt there, his body quivering in anticipation as the appointed time had drawn near.

Though it had seemed like an eternity of waiting, the clock on the wall registered the time at 7:06 pm, when he heard the heavy footsteps making their way down the dark corridor beyond the door he anxiously and nervously couldn’t take his eyes off of.

His heart nearly skipped a few beats and palpitated in his heaving chest as he heard the deep masculine voices just outside, as one encouraged another to open the door.

One moment later and with a simple twist of the doorknob, four massive figures entered the room.

Pansy watched, obediently silent, as instructed, as coach Myers, his dream stud ushered in three young men into the room, each suitably muscular and beefy and reeking of a recent workout.

An awkward, silent pall hung over the room as three pairs of eyes, belonging to the coach’s youthful companions, glowered haltingly in his direction, as coach Myers shut the door behind them, before turning back toward his charges.

“You weren’t kidding, were ya coach?” Lance Coleman, the slighter of the three boldly declared as he crossed the room and made his way to stand directly in front of Pansy, his hand absentmindedly reaching for the growing bulge in his light gray sweatpants and stoking it suggestively, outlining it’s ever-increasing bloating into a full-on erection.

“As promised boys!” Coach Myers had declared, his face a beaming smile of sardonic temerity, his eyes two gleaming pools, reflecting a mounting depth of intensity Pansy was all to familiar with. It was the same look he caught frequently in Rob’s eyes, it was one of pure, unadulterated animalistic hunger and he was looking at Pansy like a slab of raw beef.

Much to Pansy’s dismay, however, Chuck Myers crossed the room and after thrusting the door open, turned to look over his shoulder at the three horny, stalwart youths and informed them he had a few errands to run and would be back the next morning to pick them up, concluding with a devilish wink at Pansy and stating: “Get your fill boys but don’t break him, I’ll want my turn after you break him in.”

With a hearty chuckle, the muscular giant strode through the door and vanished from view upon closing it behind him, leaving Pansy alone with the three hunky football players, who now stared down at him lasciviously.

Without preamble, the one called Lance shoved the front of his sweat pants down with one hand and grabbed the back of Pansy’s hooded head with the other and began slapping his lips with the bloated head of his fat eight incher, smearing them in the copious amounts of precum drooling from his piss slit.

“Open wide fag!” The blond youth jeered, his mouth twisted into an insidious lecherous grin.

Pansy nearly swooned at the masculine vehemence of the demand and complied obediently, his mouth already drooling at the thought of servicing this handsome young studs meaty member and tasting the sweet testicular nectar oozing from its rock-hard circumcised tip.

Just as he had hoped, Lance didn’t let him waste time sucking and sipping daintily on the head of his palpitating pecker before ramming the full length down his throat and began pumping his plump hairless balls against his chin.

“Yeah bro…” the one called Hatcher sneered sardonically: “Face fuck that faggots mouth-pussy!”

Spurred on by his teammate’s taunt, Pansy could feel the boy’s fingers tightly grip the back of his head before he began pistoning the full length of his veiny cock into his throat and otherwise using his mouth like his own personal fuckhole.

Pansy was so engrossed in servicing the youth’s cock, he barely noticed as Hatch stripped off his own clothing until he felt the warmth of his naked flesh press against him from behind, and the rock-hard heat of his engorged, nearly eleven-inch phallus, began smacking against the side of his face, stinging his cheeks with loud resounding smacks.

Lance’s cock had seemed meaty to Pansy, but it wasn’t until the boy/man invading his mouth ripped his spittle-covered schlong from his mouth and forced his head around, that he was confronted with Hatches beefy prick.

“Open wide pussy mouth” Hatcher commanded, in his deep, gravelly voice, tinged with no small degree of threatening undertones.

Pansy had to pivot slightly around to comply with the command and as he did so, he could finally take in the prodigious endowment of the six foot-two inch, muscular, sandy-haired manchild starring wickedly down at him, with a pair of bright blue eyes so full of lust and contempt, it sent a mild wave of trepidation shivering down his spine right into his already tight hairless balls, causing his own seven and a half inch dick to belch out a few drops of anticipatory semen from his gasping piss slit.

The distraction of his wanton, ogling appraisal of Hatches phallic perfection ended abruptly as he felt the harsh sting of Hatcher’s hand as he slapped Pansy hard across the face, leaving him reeling and dazed as his eyes shot upward to the nearly sadistic grimace that glowered down at him.

Before Pansy could react, Hatch hooked his left hand behind Pansy’s head as he brought the tip of his large plum-sized cockhead right up to his lips.

Responding by instinct alone, Pansy’s lips parted as his mouth attempted to engulf it, desiring nothing more than to savor every inch of this stallion’s manhood.

To his surprise, Hatch pushed him away, by shoving his forehead with the blunt of his palm, once again causing Pansy’s eyes to shift questioningly back to his own.

“Ya want this faggot?” Hatch sneered, slapping the plump juicy head of his prick in his left hand as he glowered down at him, the corner of his mouth twisting into a lecherous sneer, before adding: “Ya gotta beg for it first!”

Hesitantly Pansy groaned: “Please sir, may I suck your cock?”

Hatch’s face twisted into a full grin, his eyes almost mirthful as he smiled down at him, right before his right hand shot out unexpectedly and slapped Pansy even harder across the face, nearly knocking Pansy off balance and tilting toward the opposite side.

Pansy could feel his cock twitch again and his balls contract even more, as his heart raced within his chest.

This was nothing new to Pansy. This young man was doing instinctively what it took him years to get Rob comfortable with doing. It was this kind of domination that Pansy craved and hungered for and in just the span of a few minutes, this stud had him nearly on the brink of an uncontrollable hands-free orgasm.

“Don’t just kneel there staring up at me like some stupid little queer…” Hatch leered, his heated gaze locked with Pansy’s: “Be a good little faggot and beg me properly for the honor to worship my dick!”

Pansy paused for a moment, thinking rapidly and stammering submissively as he could his response: “Sir, please instruct me how best to please you.”

His plea seemed to please Hatch as his smile broadened and he once again resumed slapping his fat cock head in the palm of his hand.

“First of all…” Hatch began haltingly as if considering his words carefully as he took a step toward Pansy, his rock hard dick aligning perfectly with Pansy’s quivering lips: “Allow me to introduce you to my not-so-little friend…” Hatch paused yet again, the sardonically wicked grin returning to his visage: “His name is Fag Basher!”

Pansy nearly whimpered as his dick began to twitch uncontrollably, his mouth watering even more as the urge to engulf the bloated member pressed against his lips, nearly overtook what little self-control he had left.

One thought filled his lust-addled brain…he had to have that cock plunging into him. He needed it more than he needed to take another breath, so he addressed Hatch’s dick like it was some divine entity he needed to entreat to attain a state of miraculous nirvana.

Pansy did the only thing he could do, he begged: “Please Fag Basher, allow me to please and worship you.”

Unbidden, Pansy lost himself in the moment and began smothering Hatch’s drooling knob with slobbering kisses and with wet fluttering flicks of his tongue, until Hatch once again shoved him away, snickering jovially as his hand shot out again and began repeatedly slapping Pansy across the face, in a flurry of stinging blows.

“God dammit Hatch…” A booming voice shouted disapprovingly from the other-side of the room.

All eyes turned toward the brooding six foot five muscle ripped giant seated in the brown leather chair glaring stoically back at the trio, leaving them frozen in silence and in little doubt about who was actually in overall charge in the room.

As well they should. Steve Ramsey wasn’t the most vocal of persons, he didn’t have to be. His mere physical presence commanded attention and even a hedonistic, rough-and-tumble lout like James Hatcher thought twice about garnering Ramsey’s ire.

“Quit fuckin’ messin’ around…”Ramsey grunted, adding: “Either get your dick wet or step aside and let someone else take a turn.”

Hatch responded by sneering down at Pansy, the left corner of his mouth tilting upward baring his pearly teeth in a wicked grimace: “You heard the man….” Hatch taunted in a near-snarling growl before grabbing Pansy by the back of his head with both hands firmly laced behind the base of his skull: “Open wide faggot!” he commanded.

Pansy instantly complied, staring hungrily at the object of his wanton desires, suspecting fully what came next and hoping against hope his instincts were correct. They were!

If nothing else, James Hatcher was consistent, if not even predictable. They all watched in varying degrees of interest as the golden-haired, brooding stallion rammed the full length of his prodigious eleven and half inches balls deep into Pansy’s mouth and began grinding his large, egg-sized balls against Pansy’s chin, all while continuously spewing a torrential flurry of obscenities.

“Goddam fuckin’ queer, take that fuckin’ dick down your faggot pussy mouth!”

Hatch’s harsh words only urged and heightened Pansy’s lust as he began sucking greedily, his lip-locked suctioning and undulating throat muscles devouring everything Hatch ground down his esophagus.

This wasn’t the biggest dick Pansy had taken, Rob’s was a good inch longer and almost another inch thicker than this ruggedly handsome youth’s and over the years, Rob had trained him well.

In the last ten years, there were countless afternoons and evenings where his throat served as a warm fleshy sheath for Rob’s twelve-plus inches. Long ago, at Rob’s insistence, Pansy had learned to gulp air around his fat fuckstick, keeping it warm and wet in the confines of his tight throat, often kneeling for hours between Rob’s splayed legs as he watched some football or basketball game on TV with Rob’s dick throbbing fully embedded inside his oral cavity.

Early on, Rob had declared this his purpose, reducing him into being nothing more than some fleshy vessel for his manhood and his seed. Pansy had learned that purpose well. If Hatch was expecting him to gag, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Pansy could do this all night if need be, and he could do so much more, which he demonstrated by loosening his jaw further allowing his tongue to snake out and caress Hatch’s testicles, swabbing them in the copious amounts of drooling spittle accumulating in his mouth, eliciting a tightening of the youths grip on the back of his head followed by a few rewarding guttural moans of satisfaction and approval.

As Pansy’s tongue circled and stroked Hatch’s balls, as his throat muscles continued to constrict and milk his burgeoning shaft and palpitating cockhead, Pansy reminisced over the hours of training he had spent lengthening his tongue to better serve Rob.

It was after months of trying to flex and stretch his oral digit by pushing it harder and harder passed his lips that he happened upon the idea of using small weights attached to a large adjustable nipple clamp.

He would affix the clamp as far back on his tongue as he could before attaching the weight and would then lean forward allowing gravity and time to do its work.

By slowly increasing the amount of weight, he soon had nearly doubled his ability to extend his tongue until he could nearly lick the bottom of his chin or flick it over the tip of his nose.

At times, the pain had been almost unbearable, but once he had achieved a certain level of success, the pain he had endured to accomplish the outcome, outweighed what he had suffered to achieve it.

With a wicked sense of self-satisfaction at what he had achieved over the years, Pansy demonstrated his next oral trick by scooping Hatch’s large egg-sized gonads into his mouth, one at a time, before stuffing each one into either of his cheeks before clamping his lips tightly around his now fully engulfed genitals and began sucking in earnest.

The unexpected sensation literally knocked Hatch off his feet as he fell backward onto the foot of the bed, his fingers gouging vice-like into Pansy’s skull as he hurled obscenities in an endless stream of animalistic grunts and growls.

“Mutha-fuckin’-Goddamn cocksuckin’-faggot…eat my fuckin’ junk.”

Pansy’s little “trick” didn’t escape the notice of the other two occupants in the room, as they stared on in wide-eyed fascination as Hatcher continued to howl his lust-fueled tirade: “Take it all you fuckin’ queer, I’m about to drown your faggot as in jizz!”

No sooner had the words escaped his lips, Pansy could feel Hatch’s entire body stiffen and his steely grip tighten even more as the muscular youth ground his groin against his suctioning lips.

True to his word, Pansy marveled at the sheer force of the rocketing first blast of molten sperm that spewed from the straining engorged tip of Hatch’s prick, followed by volley after volley of thick viscous splooge, so copious that it caused Pansy’s eyes to roll back in his head as he suckled and swallowed greedily at the near endless tsunami of jism pummeling his esophagus.

The fact was, at that very moment, Pansy was past caring if he’d drown in Hatch’s cum. From the first heated, thick blast of the man-boys load, Pansy’s own cock erupted in a joyous fountain of pistoning ball juice.

No, Pansy hadn’t touched his own cock, Rob had forbidden him from pleasuring himself almost from the start, insisting that the only time Pansy was allowed to cum was through his selfless joy of servicing “real” men and in Pansy’s lust-filled thoughts, he was feasting on one right now, which spurred the uncontrollable orgasm he was experiencing now.

“Look at that willya?” the one called Lance chortled snarkily, pointing down at Pansy’s dick: “The homo just came from chuggin’ your jizz dude.”

Though still caught up in the last vestiges of his post-coital euphoria, Hatcher reach down, and with the heel of his palm pushed at Pansy’s forehead until his bloated, spit-soaked genitals plopped out noisily from Pansy’s still sucking mouth.

Sitting up and looking down between his legs in disgust at the cum dripping down the sheets, shot from Pansy’s deflating cock, Hatch rose to a standing position over a still panting, hooded Pansy and sneered down at him with a cocky half-grin: “Bad faggot…” He taunted: “Who gave you permission to get off?”

Still feeling the buzz from his endorphin induced post orgasmic release, Pansy just smiled back up at him and licked his lips before dropping his gaze to Hatch’s crotch and began kissing his still fully erect cock: “Please sir, I couldn’t control myself, your load just tasted so good!”

Without prompting, Pansy wrapped his lips around the swollen shiny knob of Hatcher’s dick and plunged downward fully engulfing his sizeable endowment to its base and ground his chin into the wiry hairs of his groin.

The cocky sneer appeared once again across Hatch’s face as he pushed his head away: “Ya can’t suck my dick again until you suck off my buddy Lance here.” Hatcher snarled sardonically while urging Lance to sprawl out on the bed and coaxing Pansy to climb up between his legs and fully engulfing Lance’s eight incher and balls and began sucking away contentedly.

Hatch exchanged wicked glances with Lance as he kicked Pansy’s legs apart and hoisted his hips into the air and began rubbing his still swollen phallus up and down the crack of Pansy’s ass before taunting: “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to dry fuck a fags pussy!”

And before Pansy could catch his bearings or react to Hatcher’s declaration, Pansy suddenly felt the blunt hard end of Hatch’s dick ram past his puckered sphincter and enter his anal canal, where Hatcher seemed determined to rip his way completely into Pansy’s guts.

The pain was excruciating, but all Pansy could do was gargle his protest around the bloated girth of Lances leaking cock and sweaty balls and beat his fist against the mattress of the bed until James Hatcher finally hit bottom, deep inside his pain-wracked orifice.

“Bet ya felt that didn’t you, ya fuckin’ queer!?” Hatch boasted gleefully as he began rapidly punching the full length of his prodigious endowment in and out of Pansy’s aching hole.

It was pure torture for several minutes, with little or nothing Pansy could do about it. But eventually, Hatch’s own leaking seminal fluids began to coat his rectal cavity and the pain of his rapid strokes soon turned to pleasure with Pansy bouncing backward to meet each one of James’s powerful thrusts.

“Goddayam…”Hatch groaned gutturally, his right-hand slapping repeatedly against Pansy’s reddening butt cheeks with a loud smacking noise accompanying it, with each downward stroke, that hit so hard, it caused the sound to reverberate off the small room walls in a cacophony of sadistic vehemence: “This is the tightest fuckin’ snatch I’ve ever plowed.”

Pansy winced with each torturous smack of his bulbous bubblebutt, but the combination of James’s smacks, verbal abuse, and gut-pounding schlong raking across his prostate, had Pansy’s dick on the verge of pre-orgasmic release for what seemed like hours, even as the other blond-haired youths fat cock continued to drive forcefully down his throat until he was certain it would plow right through the back of his head.

Their macho bravado and near tireless vitality made him hover on the brink, suspended and impaled but still carnally connected between them. For Pansy, this was the culmination of what he had dreamed of and deep down he hoped it would go on forever, but like all good things, combined with their youthful exuberance, all too soon plunged the trio over the edge into near volcanic eruptions of molten jism. Lance’s down his throat, Hatch’s deep in his ass, and his own splashing aimlessly against the now sweat-soaked mattress and sheets, until they all collapsed into a heap of panting, glistening flesh.

Pansy could have laid there forever, sandwiched between them, they’re spent, but still bloated dicks still dribbling inside him, but the thunderous sound of applause echoed from the other side of the room as the fourth, but hitherto mostly silent member of this arranged get together, clapped his hands together.

“That was some show boys…” the still-dressed six-foot-five giant grunted in a deep gravely voice as he slowly rose from the leather chair directly across from them.

“But I think it’s time to separate the boys from the men and let a real man show you how its done!”

Pansy’s eyes were quickly drawn away from the ruggedly handsome face that eyed him deviously as the muscle-honed jock began to pull his sweat stained t-shirt over his head while kicking his sneakers off as his thumbs dug into the waistband of his gray sweatpants and began shimmying them down over his huge muscular ass.

There was little time for Pansy to appreciate the massive glistening muscles that subsumed the bulking and daunting figure that slowly approached him before his eyes caught sight of the pendulous monster that dangled between his legs.

Pansy felt a sudden twinge of trepidation as the organ began to swell and engorge with each step he took toward him.

He was barely aware of Hatch kneeling toward his ear and whispering maliciously: “Now you gonna get it faggot.”

Pansy suddenly found himself alone on the bed as his two former companions made way for their hulking comrade, who continually glowered at Pansy like a fresh piece of meat he was about to devour whole.

Feeling like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, Pansy sat there on his knees in the center of the bed as Steve Ramsey lowered himself on his knees and scooted up the bed until he was nearly face to face with a frozen Pansy.

With one forceful shove, Ramsey pushed him backward and grabbed his ankles, and hoisted his legs into the air until his ankles swung over his broad shoulders and his thighs spread as the grunting, ape-like youth positioned himself squarely between them, leaving little doubt about his intentions and the position he wanted him in.

“Like what ya see gay boy?” Ramsey growled deeply, locking gazes with Pansy who could do little more than gawk at the momentous phallus now fully erect and stretching up his own abdomen until it nearly reached the center of his chest.

Over the years, Pansy had watched a lot of porn, dreamed of some of those big cocks plowing his holes into oblivion and he had thought he had completely lucked out when he met and hooked up with Rob Wiley. He was sure they had been fated to meet when Rob revealed his huge twelve-inch dick for the first time.

Pansy had spent years worshiping that cock, sure he would never find its equal, at least in this lifetime.

But the monster laying heavily across his belly shattered that illusion and all Pansy could do was stare at it in awed, wide-eyed silence.

From the base of its baseball bat thick base, up through its equally thick veiny shaft and the uncircumcised hooded tennisball-sized glands, Pansy was certain it had to measure at least sixteen inches in length.

Pansy gulped involuntarily as his mouth drooled in lusty hunger while his senses reeled at the very notion that this powerful manchild fully intended to shove that thing into him and fuck him like it would be the most normal thing in the world for him to do.

“Please sir…” Pansy stammered brokenly, his lips barely able to form the words his trepidation cautioned him to speak.

“Ramsey smiled wickedly: “You don’t have to beg, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten the chance to use this thing on anyone, and believe me, I’m gonna take my time and enjoy every minute of it even if I have to split you in two to do it.”

Pansy’s lower lip trembled at his harsh words. Fear and hunger filled his vision as he lay there helplessly awaiting the inevitable as Ramsey drew his huge dick back and pressed the business end of his schlong against Pansy’s wet, sperm-oozing anus.

“Puh…puhlease… “Pansy finally managed to stutter: “At least use some lube.”

Ramsey glowered back at him for a moment then leaned back, shifting his weight back on his heels: “Get it!” he commanded, causing Pansy to roll over on his side to the nightstand where he opened the drawer to fetch the bottle of water-based lube he and Rob frequently used.

‘Grease me up” Steve practically cooed as he intently watched Pansy follow his instructions obediently before repositioning himself with his arms behind his head and his thighs drawn tightly against his chest leaving his bunghole an easy target.

Ramsey didn’t keep him waiting, didn’t bother with even attempting any form of foreplay or loosening.

No, Ramsey had only one goal in mind and that was plunging his big dick into Pansy’s pucker and plowing away all his years of frustration for all those who had been too frightened by his massive endowments to even make some semblance of an attempt.

The Coach had promised him a willing hole for his amusement and he fully intended to do just that.

For Pansy, this was just another challenge he intended to meet. Over the last decade, he and Rob had engaged in numerous sexual acts including fisting. He had even managed to take Rob’s arm nearly to the elbow once and though Rob’s forearm was thicker than Ramsey’s sizeable endowment, his dick was considerably longer than that had been.

The only plus side Pansy saw at the moment was the plowing Hatch had already given his hole and Pansy secretly hoped it would be enough to loosen him for what was to come.

At first, the massive head didn’t seem to want to push past his sphincter, causing Pansy to whimper several times in both pain and frustration as he rotated his hips trying to find the right position to make it easier for the inexperienced jock, but ultimately it just took the slow persistent pressure and the strength of Steve’s oaken thighs to push past his taut entrance and enter him snugly.

Despite this small victory, Pansy braced himself for what he knew would be the next hurdle, his inner sphincter.

It had taken him and Rob month’s worth of persistent, repetitive training to get Rob’s fist to stretch that opening enough to accommodate his massive fist into the opening of his lower bowels. But where Rob had been patient, Pansy was certain that this time would prove to be different.

Having that thought no sooner crossed his mind, he felt a sharp twinge of pain accompanied by Ramsey’s massive wanger abruptly halted from gaining further purchase into the tight confines of his anal canal.

The sudden, painful incursion caused Pansy to cry out only to find himself instantly silenced when James Hatcher straddled his head and rammed his still-swollen phallus down his throat cutting off any protest he might have made.

Pansy could feel the firm grip of Hatch’s hands lock around his ankles and pull his legs back and apart further as he nearly growled words of support to his youthful companion: “Shove that fucking thing up that faggots pussy bro… wreck his fuckin’ cunt!”

The muffled sounds of Hatch’s words sent a shiver of dread and anxiety coursing through his near oxygen-depleted brain, but underneath his fear, Pansy felt something else… a deep sense of hunger and excitement. This was something he knew all too well and had come to accept about himself over the years of nearly nightly service to Rob. Somewhere, back in the deepest recesses of his mind, he wanted this young muscle god to take him, to completely dominate and have his way with him, to use him and treat him like a vessel for his potent seed and virile manhood.

No, Pansy didn’t just want it, he needed it!

Pansy lost himself in that desire, his lips locked around Hatch’s bloated dong and began suckling in renewed earnest, as his hips thrust, almost involuntarily upward as a slowly retreating Ramsey repositioned himself, rising up on his feet into a squat thrust stance, with his dick pulled back until only the head of his palpitating schlong remained ensconced within him.

He didn’t know what happened after that moment, one minute he was greedily devouring Hatch’s fat juicy dick, then instantly, like a switch flipping in his head, the world around him erupted into a vast sea of searing hot whiteness.

It took him a moment to reorient himself, to discern whether this was a dream or something real.

He lay there, letting his eyes try to focus within the billowing white haze, as the gentle sounds of water brushed softly against a, not to distant shore and a pleasant, warm breeze wafted over his bare skin, followed by a light lilting hum that slowly transformed into an ephemeral disembodied voice, that rang like music in his ears.

The words it spoke barely reached him and bore a hint of both joy and sadness: “You can not be here little one…” it sang in caution: “Yet all the same you deserve to know…” the words trailed off into the ether, somewhere between the past, present, and future, before it continued: “Through you, the stage has been set, you will bare witness as your offspring bring change to the world…”

Pansy’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his sons Matt and Brian, spurring him to finally find his voice and speak out in fear for their safety: “Who the hell are you and how do you know my sons?”

In response, a wave of calmness washed over him as a golden light infused every pore of his being as the warmth of the disembodied voice suffused him: “They can not stay with you, but be not afraid to let them go, for they are intended to do great things…” as it spoke, the light began to fade and swirl into the darkness around him and the voice drew away from him until it was barely audible, but before Pansy lost it completely, he was certain it said: “Listen to your mate, you will find comfort in his arms…”

The world swirled around him in a dizzying array of sights and sounds until he found himself once again in the confines of the poorly lit room in the back of Panto’s gym.

Pansy lay there, with his arms and legs wrapped around the hulking, sweaty muscular youth who was relentlessly pounding his massive dick deep into his guts, clutching and holding onto him for dear life.

Still reeling from what Pansy could only describe as either a sex-induced delusion or a divine, spiritual vision, he slowly gathered what was left of his wits as he took in his surroundings.

Beside him, laying exhausted across the bed, was the one he knew as Hatcher, the other, the blond-haired Adonis, was sprawled out listlessly in the brown leather chair in the corner of the room.

The perpetual abysmal lighting of the room defied the passage of time, so Pansy had no idea how long they had been at it, but what he was certain of, was his throat ached from use and his hole felt numb to the constant pummeling this kid was pile driving into him.

As if right on cue, he felt every muscle suddenly stiffen and flex on the youthful stallion buried balls deep in his quivering, abused hole as he simultaneously tightened his arms around Pansy and grunted into his left ear: “I’m fuckin’ cumin’ again you fuckin’ tight as bitch.”

The words barely registered to Pansy as he lay there passively feeling the hot warm jets of jism spurting into the deepest recesses of his now spasming rectum.

Almost instinctively Pansy’s hole seemed to grip and clutch at the base of the huge invader, milking it for every precious drop of the stallions splooge, which elicited the stud to comment: “Goddam bitch, your fuckin’ pussy is suckin’ my nuts dry!”

For some reason, Pansy felt a certain satisfaction in hearing him say that, which was echoed by the fervent wet suckling sounds of his clenching hole around his pulsating shaft.

Pansy couldn’t help but smile to himself in amusement, noting mentally to himself how it sounded like a hungry calf feeding on its mother’s teat, back in the day when he would visit at his grandparent’s farm as a kid.

The contented moment quickly faded as the hulkish brute slowly regained some semblance of composure and began pulling away from him and slowly withdrawing his rubbery, though still gargantuan pecker.

Laying there listlessly, Pansy marveled at the prodigious organ as it plopped glisteningly from the swollen lips of his distended pucker, noting in admiration at the plethora of thick viscous white splooge clinging to its shiny surface.

As if in a trance, Pansy felt drawn to it, like a moth to a flame and he pivoted toward it and began kissing and licking at its semi-erect surface before swooping down to draw the massive head into his now drooling hungry mouth and forcing it down his chugging throat until it was nearly halfway buried into his esophagus.

“Damn, Hatch was right…” the now smiling jock crooned, locking eyes with Pansy as he suckled ardently: “You’re one cock hungry faggot.”

Pansy just winked at him mischievously, eliciting a chuckle from the somewhat gentle giant. He didn’t sense the same demeaning intent in his use of the word faggot that he got from both Hatch and Lance. In some way, it felt almost complimentary coming from this deep gravely voiced stud, which Pansy rewarded by forcing himself to take another inch or two of his already inflating member.

“Sorry dude…” Steve Ramsey apologized as he withdrew his inflating dick from Pansy’s greedy mouth: “I don’t think I got another one left in me, I already shot six loads up your fuckin’ amazing snatch.”

“Six?” Pansy queried out loud, though he hadn’t intended to.

“Yeah…” Ramsey waxed, his eyes glazing over in fond remembrance of his accomplishment: “You’re like a fuckin’ machine dude, you took everything I had and drained my bro’s to boot.”

Pansy couldn’t help but stare up at him, a slightly dumbfounded look on his face: “How long have we been at it?” he questioned, while still trying to wrap his head around the fact he couldn’t remember it happening.

“Dude, you kidding? We’ve been at it most of the evening!” Ramsey giggled, wondering to himself, as he scratched his head if maybe Hatch and Lance had jarred his brains loose with the countless loads they had fucked down his throat while he completely monopolized Pansy’s talented hole.

Trying to get his bearings, Pansy rolled off the bed, garnering a grumpy grunt from a lethargic Hatch in the process as he scampered for his pants to find his phone.

No sooner pulling it from the confines of the pocket of his stonewashed denim jeans, Pansy swiped to activate the screen and stared in disbelief at the time displayed– 11:34 PM.

Pansy had barely had the time to register the fact he had lost a span of nearly three hours he couldn’t account for when the sudden rustle of the doorknob captured his attention preceded by the door being thrust inward and to his surprise, the room filled with large men dressed in camo gear, all of them armed to the teeth like they were going into combat.

One person thrust himself between them barking orders as he closed the distance between him and Pansy while the three shocked boys in the room scampered fearfully to each other until they stood huddled, naked together as the men surrounded them.

“Hiya Babe… surprised to see me?” the familiar voice of his lover Rob Wiley mused as he reached down to pull him to his feet and into his arms, while simultaneously pulling the hood off over his head, exposing his face and planting a kiss on his trembling, confused lips.

                                                          <<<<<>>>>>

“Stop being such a pussy” Matt McCormick heard the all too familiar voice of his best friend and co-conspirator Talia Brooks respond snappily through his earpod.

Matt had his phone stuffed into his left front pocket so he could hiss, as quietly as possible, his responses to her: “This would be a whole lot less nerve-wracking if you’d quit humming the theme song from the Pink Panther.”

Talia snickered for a moment before retorting: “What are you friggin’ worried about, you got back up there with you.”

By backup, Talia meant his brother Brian and his newly acquired, persistent shadow Hunter Milsbane.

‘God, I miss Blake” he thought to himself as he clung as close as possible to the exterior back wall of the single-story, ground-level ranch-style house, that the school records Talia had hacked right from the school computer, indicated was the address of the high school football coach, Chuck Myers.

They had made this, albeit risky choice, earlier in the afternoon after he and Talia had reviewed the hours and hours worth of camera and audio footage they had captured from the small spy device Blake had been able to sneak into the coach’s office on Wednesday.

That, as it were, turned out to be fortuitous, because upon reviewing the footage Thursday, Blake, Talia and Matt bore witness to rather troubling video footage of a short meeting between Dr. Ventrov and Coach Myers from earlier in the afternoon, in which, amongst other things, Dr. Ventrov indicated that he was considering pulling the plug on their little experiment because he felt their program may have become compromised due to some information he had received from his benefactor, urging him to use extreme caution in all external programs he may be conducting outside the safety of the lab.

What had been particularly troubling was the coach asking if that info had come directly from some source at the Pentagon or from his boss in Ukraine.

That question alone had drawn ire from Dr. Ventrov, who responded by concluding their meeting and shoving past the coach as he harshly whispered back at him, over his shoulder, as he sought to abruptly exit the coach’s office, to never mention or refer to “the One” outside the safety of the labs again and nearly slamming the door in the coaches face as he left.

As dodgy as that had all seemed, it was what had happened right afterward that really left them scratching their heads, was when the coach whipped out a cell phone he seemed to have hidden from somewhere underneath the top of his desk and quickly dialed a number and nearly spat into the phone angrily, that they may have to make their move sooner than planned because he was afraid Ventrov was spooked and might do something rash if they didn’t take control of the situation soon.

They couldn’t make out what the response was, but Coach Myers concluded the conversation stating to whoever was on the other end of the line, that they should report this only to the general, that they may have a mole at the Pentagon, before hanging up, stuffing the phone in his pants pocket and hurriedly exiting his office himself.

As Matt recalled it, it was about that time, that Blake seemed to grow somewhat withdrawn, leaving Talia and him to question the possible meaning behind what they were just privy to.

It was shortly after that, Blake had insisted they call it a night and practically bum-rushed Matt out to his truck and had taken him directly home. Even more troubling to Matt, Blake barely gave him so much as a peck on the cheek, before he was tearing out of his driveway and heading back down the road.

Matt tried to just brush it off, but Friday morning he woke to a text from Blake stating he couldn’t pick him up that morning because his dad had to make an emergency trip to Texas and Blake was taking the day off from school to go with him.

The inconstancy with his recent behavior over the last couple of days coupled with the timing of his abrupt absence wasn’t setting well with Matt; it felt like Blake was brushing him off for some reason or was hiding something that was troubling him.

Matt had considered talking to Talia about it, maybe getting her input, but had decided against it, especially after what they were witness to the night before.

Knowing Talia the way he did, he was certain her imagination would have run wild in a plethora and myriad of ways, which would have only served to heighten Matt’s sense of foreboding.

The point became moot when right after school and before the time he had agreed to meet up with Talia, he had stopped by the gym to collect the tablet he used for his weekly stats on the other guys. Since he was scheduled to work the next day at the lab and like always, he fully expected Dr. Ventrov to ask for his tablet so he could review his weekly measurements and update his own files accordingly, he had hoped to retrieve it without notice.

It was be sheer, fortuitous happenstance that he overheard the coach talking to Hatch, Lance, and Steve and informing them what time he expected them to show up at Panto’s gym that evening.

Matt didn’t know what for, nor did he really care. It wasn’t unusual for the coach to run extra drills on the guys and he had just assumed he had planned an evening workout with the guys, but what was important was the time he designated. Seven o’clock PM in early fall also coincided with an early dusk which presented a certain advantageous opportunity for Matt and Talia to do a little reconnoitering at the coach’s house, something they had yet to attempt, having no way of prognosticating the coach’s extracurricular activities beyond his daily school schedule.

Later, and just as he thought, Talia had wholeheartedly agreed with him, but uncharacteristically worried about the timing, since Blake wasn’t here to go in with him as backup, should the need arise.

They had debated the matter heavily, right up until Talia pulled into the driveway at Matt’s house and Matt noticed Brian’s Jeep.

Like the proverbial light-bulb going off over his head, Matt knew he could use his ability to influence Brian and perhaps Hunter as well, into aiding him in their little fact-finding mission, knowing full well, that Brian’s own daring due nature could be easily swayed without much effort on his part.

Hunter’s willing participation didn’t even come into question. Ever since hooking up with Brian, the pair were seldom apart and in fact, spent most of their time working out, sparing together or just fucking their brains out in Brian’s room most of the time.

From Matt’s perspective, the thought of his strong athletic older brother, who had delved so enthusiastically into his self-defense courses and was growing and honing his already natural skills, now expanded by the enhancements of Dr. Ventrov’s medications, was an even better choice than Blake as his accomplice that evening.

Not that Blake wasn’t a great athlete as well, but Matt had no true measure of Blake’s defensive or offensive skills and capabilities, should the need present itself. Of course, Matt hoped there wouldn’t be a need for either that evening, but his limited experiences had already taught him, that the best defense was a good offense.

The rustle of some shrubbery from a few feet away brought Matt back abruptly to his present circumstance. Almost instantly he caught Brian’s unique scent and stealthily as possible made his way over to him.

‘We found a way in.” Brian whispered conspiratorially, which only amused him since it was fairly certain there wasn’t a sole around. The coach lived in a rather spartan neighborhood. His nearest neighbor was a good hundred feet away and the surrounding terrain was rather densely foliaged offering them ample coverage in the early evening waning light.

Matt just went with it, shaking his head and smiling bemusedly: “Show me.” was all he responded before falling in step behind his brother as he cautiously led him around to the back of the house to a small basement window that had been left open.

The portal was to small for either Brian or Hunter, but Matt’s more diminutive stature had little problem squeezing through and into what appeared to be the coach’s make-shift home gym.

Upon entering, Matt made his way over to the exterior basement door and using the small LED flashlight he brought with him, to scan all around the door frame for any wires that might indicate it was hooked up to some home security alarm system.

Finding none, Matt unbolted the door and ushered Brian and Hunter in before closing it once again.

Having decided to leave Hunter to guard the door, Matt informed Talia, who had uncharacteristically remained silent the whole time, that he and Brian were about to make their way upstairs.

“Look for anything that he might be using as a home office first,” Talia suggested helpfully.

It had taken every ounce of his influence to prevent her from accompanying them there, only relenting after Matt suggested the constant phone call/headphones idea in lieu of her physical presence.

Matt and Brian, working in concert, went from room to room, working from the front of the house to the rear until they finally found exactly what they were searching for. A small room with just a desk, chair, and file cabinet.

The room was situated right next to his bedroom and had probably served as a walk-in utility closet, judging by its size and dimensions.

Upon first note, it seemed as utilitarian as the rest of the rooms. Sparse in decor, with little or no attempt at adornment or homelike edification. Even notably more so than the usual bachelor pad Matt could envision.

Coach Myers’s home was, be that as it may, crisp, clean, and solely functional of purpose.

Matt recalled, that at some point it had been mentioned, that Chuck Myers had served in the military.

Judging by its contents, Matt didn’t find that hard to believe, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for someone who lived such a life, one so harsh, that it was devoid of any warmth or semblance that would otherwise denote a passion or zeal for life and family.

There was one exemption though and it was here in this tiny make-shift office, proudly displayed in a series of black framed pictures and documents, a small, diminutive visual recounting of his bench-marking his service in the Marine Corps. Medals and ribbons that held no significance to Matt but prominently displayed against the soft velveteen naval blue background, surrounded by a series of small pictures of crisply dressed young men in dashing military uniforms, preening proudly in tight formation as their picture had been taken.

Matt knew this for what it was, a man keenly fond of a past accomplishment and this was his silent homage to that period in his life.

What was missing, was anything in the house or in this room linking him to his current life.

Not one trophy or medal, no pictures of triumphant athletic accomplishments of his own or those of favored students or alumni.

Matt knew that such things had transpired under Coach Myers’s tenure, yet his home seemed completely devoid of anything that would attest to it, forcing Matt to conjecture why that was.

If he placed no value in what he had accomplished as a coach if he found no joy or sense of accomplishment in doing it, then why did he continue to do so?

To Matt’s way of thinking, none of this was adding up. If his job as a high school coach was nothing more than a front to further Dr. Ventrov’s testing program, then why that phone call to what he and Talia were sure was someone from the Pentagon?

If he was working with the doctor, then why warn them about a possible informant he might still have there?

If he wasn’t in cahoots with Ventrov then why did he become a willing guinea pig in his earlier tests?

Matt nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother grunt behind him as he stood there lost in thought. staring at the pictures on the wall: “Might wanna get the lead out lil’ bro, no tellin’ how much time we have here.”

Matt just gave him a nod, gesturing him out of the small room as he continued his search by going through the coach’s desk drawers.

Matt didn’t even try bothering with the laptop sitting on the desk, feeling certain there would be no way to access its contents short of just taking it and hoping Talia could hack her way into it. No, that would raise way too many red flags and neither he or Talia felt they had a tight enough case to guarantee success at exposing whatever it was Dr. Ventrov and the coach was up to.

Though it was true they had samples of the pills Matt had procured, and they had evidence of how they enhanced certain attributes in various test subjects. What they didn’t have was evidence of a crime or a victim.

As far as Matt could tell, like himself, everyone involved in testing was eighteen or over and all had agreed to it, except the ones Matt himself had basically spiked (with the best intentions of course)

What they lacked were detailed chemical analyses and breakdowns that could expose this as something more than what was being presented.

Despite what they had, they didn’t have anything that proved what the Doctor was giving them was anything more than some innocuous vitamin regimen that promoted growth spurts in some test subjects.

Of course, they knew it was more than that, Matt’s growing abilities went way beyond mere growth hormones or vitamin supplements, but again, they had no proof of that.

What they needed and why they were now taking such a daring risk like this, was a smoking gun. Some kind of proof linking the coach and the doctor in possibly using potentially dangerous compounds on unsuspecting subjects.

Matt didn’t know how long they searched, but after fruitlessly finding nothing of use in the coach’s home office, they had carefully searched throughout just about every drawer and cabinet they could find in the house, even splitting up at one point, to cover more territory until they finally converged again in the living room just to wordlessly shrug their mutual futility in finding anything of note.

It was Brian who finally broke the silence: “Dude, face it, we’re not going to find anything on this guy here and I think it’s time we cut our losses and hightail it out of here before this guy comes wandering in and wonders why the hell we’re in his house.”

The words had no longer slipped past Brian’s lips, when the door to the basement burst open and Coach Myers stepped forward securely covering Hunter Milsbane’s mouth with one hand while propelling him forward by twisting his right arm behind his back, eliciting a painful grunt by Hunter in the process: “I think its way past time for a speedy exit boy’s” the coach’s booming bassy voice grumbled as he shoved Hunter toward Brian, before his bright, intensely blue eyes, locked squarely on Matt: “Please tell Miss Brooks nothing would please me more if she got her dad to send over a couple of his deputies right now.”

For the briefest of seconds it didn’t register to Matt how the coach could possibly hear what Talia was screeching into his ears through his headphones excitedly right at that precise moment, but as the adrenaline coursed through his body and Talia, upon hearing his words, grew eerily silent, did it finally register.

“Is that another one of the side effects of Dr. Ventrov’s *treatments*?” Matt bristled sardonically, adding quickly: “Super hearing?”

The coach chuckled gruffly, the right corner of his mouth drawing into a mocking sneer: “Amongst other things, that’s none of your business.”

Two things happened then, neither of which Matt saw coming.

The first was the near animalistic growling snarl that emitted from his brother as he charged across the room like some rampaging bull, with such speed, rage, and force Matt was certain it would send both him and Coach Myers hurling right through the wall directly behind him.

The second thing… was the nearly effortless way, at the very last second before contact, that Coach Myers snatched his hulking powerhouse of a brother up by his throat with one hand and slammed him so hard against the floor that it rocked the entire house right down to its foundations, leaving Brian gasping for the air that had been expelled from his lungs so unexpectedly upon impact with the near buckling floor.

It was in that tumultuous moment that his eyes locked with Coach Myers’s, and instead of the fear for his brother or for himself that he knew prior to all of this, that he would have normally felt, instead, Matt’s mind and consciousness seemed to crystalize into razor-like focus.

His thoughts drew him back to just the week before when he had willed James Hatcher and Blake to not only back down from what was most assuredly going to be an all-out assault on one another, but he had actually been able to calm them both and send them in totally different directions.

That test of wills was what Matt was summoning now, from the innermost depths of his being, he sent the tendrils of his determination hurling across the space between them.

Unlike previously, so intense was his focus, Matt could swear he could visually perceive this force, like the rippling waves of distortion one sees when the heat rises from the surface of the ground on a hot day.

It wrapped around the coach’s body and seemed to cocoon him in a blanket of palpitating coils that seeped right through the epidermal layer of his skin.

The effect seemed cumulative if not instantaneous as Coach Myers seemed at first to just try and shake it off, but as his resistance grew, so did Matt’s persistence, culminating in an expanding test of wills.

Matt knew, from previous discussions with the coach, that he had been one of Dr. Ventrov’s earlier test subjects. But, those conversations did not reveal the full extent of what those experiments had brought into fruition, and in the few short seconds, as their silent battle continued, to Matt’s chagrin, he got to observe, first hand, some of those enhancements..

As Chuck Myers resisted and struggled against Matt’s mounting will, he watched as the coach’s body expanded and swelled.

Each muscle seemed to bloat and thicken into striated ropes straining against his skin and forcing his veins to pop and palpitate with the rush of blood through his system and within mere moments a muscle swollen giant over seven feet tall growled balefully from across the room at him.

Every inch of the man, both muscle and sinew struggled to resist him seemingly fueled by a monumental rage that subsumed every fiber of his being.

To date, and in his limited experience at testing his newfound abilities, Matt had never met with such a resistant determination as he felt now pushing back against him and in a moment of trepidation and self doubt his confidence faltered as unexpectedly, this hulking brute shakily stammered a single step toward him.

It was almost enough to shatter Matt’s resolve as he envisioned a more sinister ending than he had first expected, but just as suddenly as that moment of self-doubt creep its way into his thoughts, Matt experienced a sudden wave of tranquility wash over him.

It felt like a warm golden light that niggled its way from the center of his being and soon pulsated throughout him. With this new sensation came an ethereal, melodic lilting sound that permeated his inner core and seemed to be urging him to push back.

Matt did just that.

At first, it seemed to have little effect as the coach took another struggling step toward him, but his movements seemed feeble as the veins on his corded muscles became even more pronounced and the near herculean effort driving him, raged higher and higher until Matt was certain he could see the briefest flecks of green flash within the iris’s of his eyes as if lit from behind.

It was then Matt heard the gentle whisper of a singular word as if spoken from right behind him as if sung softly into his ear. But, that word possessed and so infused him, his lips seemed to part of their own volition and spoke but just a single word that rang crystal clear… “Submit.”

The seconds that followed seemed so surreal to Matt. Instantly it halted Coach Myers’s progression, but oddly enough, it caused his brother to roll over onto his belly and drop his forehead to the floor directly toward him.

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Hunter dropped unceremoniously to his knees and bow his head until he to was prone on the floor, his forehead touching the hardwood floorboards of Coach Myers’s living room. But it was Coach Myers himself that left the most lasting impression.

Matt bore silent witness as the once hulking beast of a man dropped loudly to the floor onto his knees.

He still seemed to struggle, fighting some internal battle, that still raged within him. His movements seemed strained and caused his motions to be jerky and awkward, like those of a puppet caught on tangled strings. But as he knelt there on the floor, just a few feet away from Matt, his body shrunk back to its normal proportions.

The one notable difference between him, his brother, and Hunter, is Coach Myers slowly turned his head away from Matt, an action that seemed as forced as the rest of his movements, but done nonetheless and ended with Coach Myers presenting his neck to Matt and held as if he were awaiting further instruction.

Matt was about to comment, when a loud, opportune knock came from the front door, shattering the moment and pivoting all their attention toward the quickly repeated sound.

It took a second to sink in, but Matt soon found his voice as a third round of knocks ruptured the otherwise silence.

“Well…?” Matt queried, looking directly at Coach Myers, who turned his head to lock gazes with him as if questioning what his next actions should be. Matt sighed: “It’s your house, answer it.”

Coach Myers rose to his feet and cautiously made his way over to the door, his hand reaching for and finding the doorknob.

He turned for a second to state back at Matt, before twisting it and pulling the door inward, and opening it widely.

It was pitch black outside, but outlined in the doorway was the silhouette of a rather robust-looking young man dressed head to toe in military-style camo fatigues.

He moved casually forward one step and into the light of the dimly lit living room, behind him, Matt could make out several other men, similarly attired who also now maneuvered around him and began filing out around them.

The sudden whiff of a familiar scent caught Matt by further surprise and he smiled in relief as the one possessing it, rushed toward him and took him into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he heard the concerned voice of his lover Blake Wiley gush into his ear.

Matt pulled back for a second to take in his familiar, handsome face before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly as he rested his head against his shoulder: “I am now.” was all he could manage, as the strain of the last few moments drained away in the comfort of Blake’s strong arms.

The focus in the room quickly shifted from their reunion, as he watched others first tend to both his brother and Hunter before centering once again on Coach Myers, who still stood stiffly regarding the unfamiliar young man who now confronted him face to face.

“Wuzzup Chuck?” spoke the five feet eleven inches, sandy-haired man, in a lilting, gravely Texas twang that just oozed with mischievous intent.

Every one of Matt’s senses told him, there was far more to this man than first met the eye.

The first thing he noticed was his scent. It was vaguely familiar and took Matt a second or two to grasp it, because it now filled the room.

Previously, Matt had only ever smelled this scent whenever he was with Blake or his father. But the proliferation of this familiar odor now permeated the room and seemed to emanate from almost everyone who had just entered.

That wasn’t all though. Matt squinted through the dim lighting to study the ruggedly handsome young man and realized that he seemed something was vaguely familiar with his face when it suddenly dawned on him… he had seen this man before, he was in several of the pictures hanging in Coach Myers’s office.

Matt’s gaze turned from the smiling young man to focus on Coach Myers, whose eyes were solely locked on only one thing, shaking his head as if in disbelief, he heard Coach Myers’s soft, cautious query: “Barin Young, is it really you?”

                                                       <<<Epilogue>>>

“What a difference a week makes,” Matt McCormick thought to himself as he snuggled contentedly against his boyfriend and lover Blake Wiley, who sat silently beside him as he perused some training manuals given to him by Barin Young to study during the long flight in the military cargo plane that was now transporting himself and several others to a destination where they would meet up with some people somewhere in Georgia, who might have some answers to some of the troubling questions they all had.

He had learned more than he ever hoped to know after the battle that fateful Friday evening that left a large portion of the ReGen Pharmaceutical research lab, where he worked part-time, in flaming ruins.

It was the same evening he, his brother, and Hunter Milsbane had broken into Coach Myers’s house, which kicked off a chain of events culminating in the decision by Blake’s father to storm the lab in pursuit of Dr. Mikal Ventrov, who was now bound, sedated and contained within a makeshift cage in the back part of the plane and under constant guard.

Matt hadn’t been part of the fighting that went on that night out there, but even from the safe distance of being held up at Blake’s house with his brother, Hunter, and surprisingly his dad, with only Blake left behind, with one of the armed guards led by Blake’s dad that evening, none of whom Matt either recognized or knew; that as the evening progressed it became painfully obvious how things were transpiring out at the lab, by the bright flickering glow of orange flames off in its general direction, that proliferated and dominated the night time sky.

That had probably been for the best, since shortly after his encounter with Coach Myers, and after Blake and the man called Barin and several of Blake’s dad’s men showed up unexpectedly and ended their confrontation, Matt was soon overcome with a deep fatigue and practically required Blake’s assistance just to make it out to the black SUV they had all arrived in.

At the time, he wasn’t privy to what transpired between Coach Myers and Barin Young, but it seemed they knew each other rather well and Coach Myers seemed to be assisting them, up to and including helping them break into the lab and overcoming the security force that was always ever present there.

It wasn’t until much later, after Blake had sat him down and explained about who and what he really was, that it all started to make some sort of sense to Matt.

Surprising as it all was, somehow Blake revealing that he and his father and all the men accompanying him, including Barin, were part of an ancient order of lycanthropes that called themselves the Heritage; which didn’t sound any crazier or improbable as what was happening to himself, his brother, Hatch, Lance, Ramsey and even Coach Myers.

In truth, it all seemed to make some sort of weird twisted sense, as did the revelation that Dr. Ventrov was working for some foreign group that was footing the bill in a secret experiment that sought to combine Heritage genes with those of regular humans, that was also being partially funded by a rogue faction at the Pentagon, who envisioned an army of supersoldiers that they could control, and that Coach Myers had actually been a plant, sent by a general who caught wind of the operation, to learn all he could about the experiments and about those involved in it.

Unfortunately for Coach Myers, part of the price of admission into Dr. Ventrov’s inner circle was his own participation as an earlier test subject.

After the raid, Matt had overheard the hushed whispers of some of the less fortunate survivors prior to the coach’s limited success, which had been released by the doctor to cause chaos when it became apparent who was successfully attacking the lab. He had hoped that the chaos would provide him enough cover and distraction to escape capture himself. It was also the doctor who blew up his own genetics lab in the hopes to prevent them from getting their hands on any of his files, records, as well as samples of his treatments.

That was of course in vain, since Matt, Talia, and Blake already had ample enough samples that could hopefully be used to reverse engineer what Ventrov had done to all of them.

Unfortunately, none of the less successful victims of his machinations survived the explosion and subsequent fires. all that remained were himself, the coach, Blake, his brother, and the three senior football jocks.

It had been decided early on, in the days following, to leave Hatch, Lance, Steve, his brother and Hunter under the care and watchful eye of Blake’s dad. They would be allowed to continue their lives as normally as possible, but only if they didn’t exhibit any overly aggressive behavior or other deleterious after-effects.

Coach Myers had told them, that as far as he knew, what had been done to the three football players was temporary and any enhancement they had accrued would fade without further supplemental treatments.

Blake, the coach, and Brian were different though, what they had been given was permanent, and while his brother fully understood that, he chose, at this time, to stay close to Hunter and accepted an offer from Blake’s dad to train and work with him to hone and monitor his abilities.

Matt suspected that it had more to do with Brian wanting to stay close to Hunter more than the other, but he didn’t want to question his sibling’s motivations, especially since he was the source of his brother’s current predicament.

Then there was the most shocking development of all. The affair his dad had been having, for over ten years, with Blake’s dad Rob and the subsequent reveal of his mother’s decades-long romance with the town’s florist.

That had been a truly awkward family discussion the following day and Matt and his brother were both still trying to work through that one and probably would be for quite some time. But, despite how he and Brian felt about it, they both seemed sincerely happy and if truth be told, knowing the full history of their grandmother and her complete disdain for homosexuals, it didn’t really surprise either Matt or Brian that their father had done what he had.

The end result of course was his and Brian’s very existence as a result, and when all things were said and done, none of it really mattered if everyone concerned were in a better place than they were before.

Both he and Brian still had two parents that loved them dearly and nothing that happened had or would ever change that.

Then there was Talia, his lifelong best friend, and constant companion, through thick and thin.

When the dust had settled, and the decision had been made that Matt and Blake would accompany Barin and Coach Myers to this place in Georgia, where there was those who could better assess what had been done to them and potentially figure out what could be done to either reverse it or better understand it, it had fallen to him how best to break his sudden departure to Talia.

Blake’s dad had made it clear, that it was in Talia’s best interest that she remain blissfully ignorant about anything to do with the Heritage.

Matt had tried his best to argue that Talia could be trusted to keep their secret, but ultimately, that wasn’t his decision alone to make and after discussing it with Blake, who agreed with his father, Matt concocted a viable explanation that she would believe.

Matt knew he couldn’t insult her intelligence by attempting to deny what she already knew, so he played into it, telling Talia that he and Blake, because of what had been done to them by the doctor’s treatments, had to go where they could be safely observed and diagnosed for an indeterminate amount of time.

Talia bought it of course, but she didn’t like it. Nor did she like the fact that she couldn’t accompany them, nor the idea that she couldn’t expose, to anyone else, what the doctor had done without further turning his and Blake’s lives upside down and inside out by holding Dr. Ventrov and ReGen Pharmaceuticals proverbial feet to the heat of public scrutiny and judgment. But, her sense of loyalty to both Matt and Blake, guaranteed her silence.

It was conditional, however. Matt had to promise to stay in contact and keep her apprised, as frequently as possible, of his and Blake’s status.

The rest of the week following that discussion and leading up to and including their last farewells had been excruciating for both of them.

“You better keep your promise and stay in touch fruitcake…” Talia murmured into his ear as she hugged him tightly for the last time the following evening before they departed for Texas, adding: “Or I’ll hop in the Mystery Machine and drive all the way to Georgia and kick your faggot ass!”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle as he gently pushed her away and watched as she quickly wiped the creeping moisture from her eyes: “Bitch puhleez, like that bucket of bolts, could make it out of town without Blake around to keep it from breaking down.” Matt retorted jovially, before hopping into Blake’s truck.

“Call me when you get there dipshit, that is if your plane doesn’t crash from the strain of toting your fat ass around.”

“Typical,” Matt thought to himself bemusedly, fondly remembering their parting moment and smiling, as he snuggled even closer to Blake, enjoying the comforting heat of his body nestled so closely to his own, drifting in and out of sleep, while wondering what new adventures the future might hold in store for them and knowing deep down inside himself, that it didn’t really matter, so long as he had friends like Talia and the man he loved beside him, to accompany him along the way.

                                                         <<<<<>>>>>

This concludes “When Opportunity Knocks” it doesn’t however mean an end to the characters in this story.
You can follow their continued adventures, chronicled from time to time, in future installments of “Devil Dawg Donnelly’s: Revelations.”

I see you lying face down on your bed. 

I open the window and move quickly but quietly over to you. You don’t hear me as I’m too good at this. 

I unpack rope from my bag and quickly but quietly I tie your arms to the bed posts. You don’t stir as your a heavy sleeper. 

Next I place a gag on you and lift your legs up in a bent over position with your legs spread and your meaty bottom wide and on display. 

I step back in wonder as I glance at the prize I have. 

Your chubby body makes me shiver. Forget those fit guys your better. 

Lots more to wobble with. 

Like a small jelly. Oooo yer.

Anyway back to the task. 

I get some items from the bag such as a set of dildoes ranging from tiny to mega huge, some lube, a long flexible vibrator and a small milk machine. 

What shall I use first?

So many choices. 

These will have to come off first though.

I grab at your baggy grey bed pants and the fact they are baggy I can can and do, in one swift motion, like an expert magician pulling a table cloth off a table with a vase on it, pull them down and off you without disturbing either the position of you or yourself. 

Brilliant.

Now I see your arse on full display ready for my onslaught.

Now back to the choice. Let me see ah yes.

I pick up the tiny dildo and start lubing it up. 

This is just for starters. 

I forgot about my dildo machine. Got it right here. Like the milk machine, its portable and pink coloured. Just how I like. 

I screw on the slick dildo to the pole connected to the gears for it to plunge and retract.

Oh boy here we go. 

I line the head up with your arsehole and slowly move it to just the head so that it’s just resting on your arse ring. 

Then I start up the machine to a low hum. 

Watching the dildo work slowly in then out of you gives me pleasure. 

I crank it up more. 

Oooh yes look at that. What a gem.

I am so horny I take off my clothes and play with my 8” cock getting it nice and hard watching this masterful display. 

After about an hour of this I stop the machine mid way in you and then get it slowly out. I unscrew the dildo and then grab the next one up. Sod it I think I’ll use the mega huge one instead. I need to be out of here and onto my next subject before dawn. 

Greasing the mega dildo I quickly screw it on the machine. Next I position the milk machine below you onto your 6” cock. You move slightly but not so much as to know what’s happening. 

I then switch on both machines to maximum speed and stand back, stroking my cock watching as the dildo goes in and your cock goes out. Then your cock goes into the sleeve and the dildo comes out. 

Wonderful. Like a porn factory in motion. In out in out then back in and back out at a terrific speed. 

It’s almost a blur it’s so fast. 

You make no movement but I hear small moans coming from behind your gag. 

You really are a heavy sleeper. 

All the more easy for me.

As I wind down the machines and pack them away I look at your sweet open hole and then begin mounting you. I slip my cock into you and it is a slick fuck non stop.

Oh yer my balls slap against your balls. Faster, faster, faster…..FA-ST-EEEEERRRRR!

Pleasure at its peak. 

Once my cum covers your body I quickly untie and ungag you leaving you just the way I found you. But this time with a wider arsehole and a cock that’s limp and slick looking. 

I think about putting my clothes back on but why the hell would I. It’s hours before dawn and all I’ll need to do is climb out this window, walk along the adjoining roof and into my next subjects bedroom. I move with my cock wagging up and down. As I get to the window I turn only to find your staring at me smiling. 

I tell you to go back to sleep and that your having a wonderful sexual gay dream. As an after thought I lob one of my vibrators at you. Here, I say, this will keep you happy.

Goodnight.

With my dick in lock-up still for almost a month I think, my hole drives me crazy. It constantly wants something in it, and today it was feeling especially hungry. I recalled how stretched and filled his XL hands worked me. I took a shot and messaged him, and the stars aligned.

Let me back up a bit. I had recently purchased 2 new challenging toys and was enjoying myself playing with them. I’d taken a gummy and had my poppers buzz going.

The more I played with my hole the more I wanted and needed a real fist to punch me out and stretch me. On a whim, I texted my meaty paw friend and here we are.

We were meeting at my place because I had all my stuff out and it was just easier.   I left the front door unlocked as I retreated to my bedroom with the vinyl sheets.

Several minutes later, my man arrived. I was already on my back moaning like a whore in church one of my new toys was working me sooo good. I hardly even noticed my buddy walk in.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it in the corner of the room, his eyes watching me ride my toy, pleasuring myself intensely.  He walked up to my tub of Crisco and began to grease a hand.  Once well applied, he pulled out the toy in one quick motion. I yowled like an animal at its excavation, my rosebud twitching wildly as my body shook.

He growled as he pushed his coated hairy forearm inside my first hole. I was so wet inside and stretched from hours of deep toy play. I sighed in relief as the wrist pushed past my assring and deeper inside. My head was spinning, it was like every nerve ending was on fire, in a good way. The endorphins rushing through me, it was fucking trippy that initial entry.

Ravenous for fist, I yanked my hips up to gobble up that fist and began to slowly ride it, deliberately stretching my hole on his fist at its widest point. The stretching of my hole was incredible.

Now I was bent over his torso and a new position allowed him to rub lube on my back as he coaxed me through some slow punches and depth play. That forearm really pushing my limits.  I began to suck his hard dick as he now reached behind me and really punched me to the point I was seeing sparks fly in my brain. I

Next, I was placed on all 4’s at the edge of the bed. My buddy lubed his entire left arm (slightly smaller), past his elbows.  I closed my eyes and let the rush of poppers take over. My pussy had stretched so much already it was like a hand in glove east fit straight past that first ring, and 3/4 wrist deep.

I took another hit as he began to slow fuck me from pussy ring to elbow, in small small increments, he’d push slightly, I’d inhale and push down. No rushing this was a very, very slow ride down and past the elbow. He was deep, and I was taking it better than I could have imagined.

The feeling of his arm slowly pushing inside me was some of the most intense sensations I’ve head in a long while. It was like complete euphoric feeling with every single inch.  I was blown away when he pushed over and in his bicep. When he flexed I almost died it was magic!

After depth play he went all in to beat my rosebud to a pulp.  Both fists flying in and out, left right, left right…punching my pussy lips and making me assgasm something fierce. My balls fucking exploded under me, puddles of cum rubbing on the sheet and my abdomen.

he pulls his fist out slightly and placed his  cock in me and he’s jerking off in my hole! He shot a load deep inside and then  he pulled  out his fist and then his dick and his cum dripped down my taint.

That was a fun time!! After almost 3 hours with him, he’d left and I rested my hole for the night.

~All Characters Are Over 18~

*Warning; this story contains Fantasy, Non-con, and Cumflation*

Aaron often walked in the woods behind his house, but never this late at night. As he marched along the beaten path he’d trodden a hundred times in the daylight, he thought about the news he had received that morning. After months of anxious waiting, he finally received an acceptance letter from his top-pick school! 

The whole rest of the day was a whirlwind of celebration until his parent finally trailed up to bed. Aaron knew that he would be leaving these trees he loved so much, and he wanted to see them as he had never seen them before. 

The moon peaked in and out of the looming branches and Aaron could hear all manner of creatures skittering, scraping, squealing, and chirping, but he wasn’t afraid. He had been learning how to exist within nature for as long as he could remember.

After a period of time, he arrived at the stream that ran through to the large river on the opposite side of town and sat down on a fallen birch by the bank. Peering down, he saw a dark ripply reflection. He contemplated his body. Aaron was 5’10” and around 180 lbs. He played soccer for his high school and worked out at the gym fairly frequently. His arms and chest were smoothly toned, but what he was really proud of was his thick, strong legs. He had the biggest thighs on the team, and his friends joked that he was the girl of the group because of how large his ass was. Even the loose sweatpants he was wearing were pulled tight by his round behind. Chuckling at the thought of his friends, he closed his eyes and let the sounds and smells wash over him.

CRUNCH.

Aaron’s eyes flew open, he knew a sound like that could only be caused by a large animal. In the past 40 years, there had only been a single dangerous encounter with wild animals, and it had been caused by a group of very drunk men with sticks. Even so, Aaron decided it was best to head back to his house. He eased himself to his feet and began back the way he’d come. As he pressed a bush, he heard it again. A rustle from somewhere behind him. Aaron’s heart started to beat a little faster, and he quickened his pace to a jog. To his horror, the noise behind him grew louder and steadier until it could clearly be discerned as heavy footsteps. He looked over his shoulder and saw a shadow shape charging after him. His breath now coming in quick, shallow breaths, Aaron began to sprint out of the forest, but was halted all of a sudden by a jutting root. His right foot caught, and his body flew forward onto the ground, knocking the breath from his body. He twisted himself onto his butt to behold the dark form behind him. It was finally clear to see, a humanoid beast nearly twice the size of a man! It stood at a towering 10 feet and was mostly naked with only a flapping loincloth to cover itself, so its bulging muscles were on full display. Its skin was a dark copper and weathered by the wilderness. What captured Aaron’s gaze more than all of that, though, was the rearing bull’s head attached to the beast’s neck.

Aaron tried to will himself to crawl backward, but was so transfixed he couldn’t make his body move. The Minotaur took a step closer. 

Aaron finally recovered his wits too late and started to crawl away, but the monster just grabbed his leg and dragged him back. 

“Who are you?!” Aaron cried out, “Can you understand me?”

The Minotaur let out a huff and tilted its head.

“You can?”

The beast nodded slowly.

Aaron’s relaxed slightly, “Are you going to kill me?”

The monster shook its head.

“What do you want?”

The Minotaur stared at Aaron with a plastid face. It reached its hand down and placed it over its crotch. In one quick motion, it ripped off the loincloth and tossed it away. Aaron gapped and let out a small gasp. Hanging between the beast’s legs was the biggest cock he had ever seen. It swung down to it knees and Aaron could tell it wasn’t fully erect.

“What the FUCK!!” Aaron screamed. 

Before he could even begin to process what he was seeing, his body was lifted and spun around. 

“No, no, no!” Aaron hyperventilated. “What is this!?”

He stared over his shoulder to see the monster hefting its third leg and slapping it on Aaron’s back. It placed him down, so his head was on the ground and his ass was stuck in the air. He felt thick, huge fingers pinch the back of his sweatpants and rip them off his body. Aaron hadn’t worn any underwear, and the night breeze bushed his ass.

“Just let me go, please!!” Aaron begged last time.

The Minotaur let out a grunt as it aligned its meat with the tiny hole between Aaron’s buns. It gripped Aaron’s hips with both hands and pulled hard. Its rod bent and slid out of place, the monster calmly repositioned it and continued forcing forward. Aaron’s asshole stretched and stretched until finally…

POP!

Aaron screamed with all his might, and the Minotaur bellowed. Its enormous mushroom head slid inside its unwilling receptacle. Its shaft stretched Aaron’s opening far wider than it had ever stretched before, and wider than he ever thought possible. There was a loud ringing in his ears, and a sharp, intense pain radiated from his anus throughout his whole body. Aaron continued to howl as the Minotaur forced itself deeper and deeper into his body. After what felt like ages for Aaron, its huge, firm balls smacked against his buttocks, and it grunted loudly. Aaron’s body trembled and tears trickled down his cheeks as the monster lay against him. The Minotaur rested for a moment, its hot breath on the back of Aaron’s neck, before swiftly withdrawing its shaft all the way to the head. 

Aaron let out a heavy gasp, but was cut short by the beast immediately ramming its meat back into his hole. The brute began pumping in and out of Aaron forcefully and unmercifully. With every thrust, the boy’s body jerked, and he let out a pathetic yelp. After a while, though, even these small protests dwindled, and he became little more than a doll.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, with seemingly no hope in sight for poor Aaron. Within the first half hour of his obliteration, his mind began to fade away into a fog of cock and pain. By the time the Minotaur began to slow down, the sun within an hour of the horizon, Aaron could not have spoken any language nor walked a step. 

The Minotaur, preparing for its finish, sat back on its heels. Aaron, still impaled on its cock, was lifted off the ground by only the strength of its manhood. If anyone was there to see, they could now behold the massive, phallic impression on Aaron’s front. The beast stood and grasped the torso of the boy on its dick. It began to slide him up and down in a kind of masturbation, gaining speed fast. After a few moments, it threw its head back, roared, and began to cum inside its broken host. With each pump, the boy’s stomach inflated more and more with fluid. His belly quickly passed pregnancy size and continued expanding until his midsection alone appeared morbidly obese. At this point, the Minotaur removed the boy from his rod and proceeded to cover him thoroughly and entirely with cum until he was almost unrecognizable. 

When at last the brute was spent, it resheathed the boy on its slightly smaller but still firm cock and began to trudge down the path, away from civilization, and deeper into the woods.

---

Thank you for reading, look out for the next part!

Our relationship was going great! We were  learning how to keep each other happy and committed We still lived apart which kept things fresh and we both valued our independence.

One day I made a surprise visit to the gym where he works. He didn’t see me because he was training a very attractive woman. They were smiling and enjoying their training session together. 

Out of nowhere a bolt of jealousy hit me! I felt dizzy and angry and I wanted to scream,”Get away from my man”. I was so surprised at my reaction..I never experienced such emotion before. I felt ashamed, but I knew I had to do something.

I signed up for several  private sessions with him. I realized I wanted more of his time and attention. I bought some training tights and a new thong. I wanted to be as seductive and sexy as possible.

I showed up for our first lesson eager and excited. He gave me so much “special” attention and hands on instruction. As he taught me how to squat, I could feel his hands on my hips and booty; his body close and his hard cock pressed  up hard against my leggings encased ass.

When we squatted up and down, it felt like he was fucking me with no one around us noticing anything out of the ordinary. After our session was done, we both headed to the locker room and then the showers.

As it was early morning, the gym was fairly quiet. We stripped down and found a stall all the way at the end. Luckily this gym had semi private shower stalls. With the hot water hitting our naked bodies, we embraced and kissed passionately.

I knelt down and sucked and licked his gorgeous cock . My mouth accepted his hot cum; swallowing every drop. We kissed. I pushed him up against the wall and tongue fucked his ass.

His moans grew louder as I did my magic. We didn’t care at this point who heard us or for that matter who saw us. All we cared about was satisfying our sweet tooth! 

I slid my cock nice and slow into his saliva soaked hole. Every time I fucked him, it always felt like the first time. His ass was so damn tight as his sphincter muscles guided my cock deeper and deeper; hitting his man “G-Spot” over and over.

He twisted around and kissed me hard on the lips as his body shook as he  released his  cum . I wasn’t finished yet! With my cock still inside of him, I kept pounding his ass even more. His moans turned into howls as my cock stroked in and out of his asshole forcing him to cum again; I pulled out and forced his mouth upon my cock as it shot stream after stream of my juice into his greedy mouth.

He was a wild animal as he slurped my nectar. Our kisses tasted of cum and passion. My jealousy gone! I knew he was mine!

 We cleaned up and I said goodbye to my new trainer I was so excited about our next session.

First, let me give some background. I’m a 24 year old man who has been straight all his life but I can’t rid these thoughts of men and how much I want to have sex with them. I’ve always been too nervous to hook up on grindr or night clubs and so I thought that a gay sauna would be my best bet. I’m invited to a meeting in Glasgow, and sure enough, the hotel is next to a gay sauna (the pipeworks) so I decide to brave my fear and explore.

I arrive at my hotel and immediately open one of the beers that I have brought with me, with it being a business trip, you never know when you can get a beer so I always bring some with me. After 2 beers, I think about the sauna next door and immediately, it turns me on, the thought of what happens behind those doors gets me hard in an instant. I thought it’s best to go and get cash rather than pay entry by card so it won’t show on any online banking. After getting the cash, I head back to my room and decide that I need a shower, around 5 mins (and 4 beers) into the shower, I decide that I’m doing this 100%. I clean inside myself, on the chance that I may get to lose my gay virginity in both holes and clean everything out.

After 30 minutes on being sat on the bed, I thought that I need to stop being a pussy and just go ahead and do this, so it’s exactly what I do. I get dressed and head out of the hotel and do around 3 walks around the sauna to see who goes in, who comes out and just case the place to see what it’s like. I eventually pluck up the courage to inside. I open the door and I’m met with a small area with a lift, I press the button and up I go. In the lift, I’m full of nerves, excitement and hesitation! Have I made the right choice? Is this what I really what? What about diseases?

Upon getting out of the lift, I go to the front desk where a lovely twink welcomed me, I quickly paid the entrance fee and asked where the lockers are, the sooner I’m in then I can settle and gather my surroundings. As I enter the lockers, I’m the only person there except for one young lad who looks me up and down. This instantly turns me on as he has his cock out and is very proud of it! I head to my locker and begin to undress, as I get to my boxers, I feel nervous until I see the gay porn on the monitors and the lovely cock I seen earlier which quickly eased me into getting fully nude.

I decide to head into the showers/jacuzzi first and I’m met with 2 guys just chilling in the jacuzzi, watching porn on the tv but not talking. I head into the jacuzzi and see that the both have throbbing erections and I immediately want to jump in but I’m not sure of the etiquette so I just sit for 5 minutes before moving on.

I then head for the sauna, I haven’t seen anyone on the way but I go in regardless and take my towel off. All of a sudden, I’m met with 3 guys who copy me and take their towels off, 2 already have throbbing hard cocks. I sit there and wait for any movement but I get nothing. I left and went exploring.

I found the holy grail! I found the fuck booths! I grab some condoms and lube from the side and head into an empty booth, to see if anyone joins. Then one of the guys from the sauna follows me into the booth and lies next to me, rubbing my legs and chest. I’m rock hard and just want his cock in my mouth so bad! He starts sucking me slowly until I couldn’t wait anymore and switched into a 69 and started sucking him back! This was my first ever cock! It’s in my mouth! It’s warm and tastes delicious! All I wanted to do was suck this cock so much! After around 5 minutes of sucking, he starts rubbing my hole, I’m nervous but I want this so much, I beg him to fuck me but as it was early, he said he didn’t want to cum yet and left. I was the hardest I’ve ever been, I needed this more.

After he left, so did I for some more exploring and I found it! What I was looking for, I found the cinema room. There was around 7 guys in here, they was all fucking except for one, I decided that I’ll sit near him and watch the porn on the huge tv. After maybe 30 seconds, I felt his hand on my leg and I got hard instantly, I begged for this, I needed his cock! I lent down and started sucking his cock, around 7” and I took around half of it, must to his pleasure. His moans and thrusting set something off in me, he had to fuck me! I sat up and gave him a condom to put on, I lubed up my hole and waited for him. I thought, oh my god, this is actually happening! I’m about to be fucked! I felt his hand touch my waist and the head of his cock touch my hole. His first push was a bit hard so I quickly moved and told him that I’m a virgin, then he moved me and said “let’s do this properly then” and kissed my neck. He then repositioned his cock head against my hole and slowly pushed it in, I breathed through the pain and thank god I did! It felt amazing! I felt every inch enter me, the slow thrust just made me hornier! After maybe 30 seconds, he sped up and now I’m begging for it harder and faster, I wanted him to fuck me like a whore and trust me, he did! I felt his cock open me up, every thrust I felt in my stomach, he treated me like his fuck toy and I loved it. Around 10 minutes later, I felt his cock twitch and heard the undeniable moan of him cumming in me which made me shoot lines of cum everywhere, I have never cum so hard in my life, I only wished that there wasn’t a condom so I could feel it in me. 

After that, I left the sauna with a sore hole and a lot of happy memories! I will be returning soon!

Ted Mattison of the Mattison and Son’s engineering firm of Hong Kong—one of the “son” Mattisons rather than the founding father, although Ted was in his late forties—leaned against the door frame of my small office in the firm’s accounting department and said, “Don’t forget the briefings we’re giving tomorrow at the Landmark Mandarin Hotel for Jason Fong, who’s building that massive shopping center in Beijing.”

“I’ll be there with the accounting figures.”

“I’d like you to brief them, so bring a chart or two. And look spiffy and close fitted.”

Brief the accounting figures for an engineering project proposal? I wondered. Those aren’t usually details that need to be briefed. The charts should be explanatory on their own. But then he made himself clear.

“Wear the diaphanous dress shirt you wore when you briefed me for the first time in Bangkok.”

That made it clear.

“Jason Fong is gay?” I asked.

“Bingo,” Ted answered.

When I’d briefed Ted in Bangkok, I’d been a new accountant at the Gerson engineering firm there. I’d recently arrived in Bangkok, having been brought there by the manager of the Ambassador Hotel to be the hotel complex’s tennis club pro, I had recently graduated from Florida State on a sports scholarship for which I’d ranked pretty high on the NCAA collegiate tennis competition charts. The hotel manager hadn’t just brought me in as a tennis pro; I also was there to warm his bed, having met him when he was in Miami for a hotel management convention and I was picking up some extra cash as a rent-boy.

When we met a second time and he offered me a job in Bangkok, I went with him not just for the tennis job—or to ride his cock—but because I had become involved in a situation in the States—in Washington, D.C.—that drove me to disappear for at least a while.

Not long after I arrived in Bangkok, the hotel manager had been transferred to Helsinki, which was entirely too cold for me. I think he would have taken me with him if I had begged. He wasn’t that good a cocksman, though, and the mere thought of Helsinki was . . . just brrrrr.

Helmut Gerson, who I had been sleeping with, had rescued me and offered me a job in his firm’s accounting department, accounting having been what my college degree was in, and, not incidentally, in an apartment near his office to be whatever they called male mistresses. Gerson had come to one of my tennis clinics, had suggested dinner on him at the two-Michelin-star Le Normandie restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, and then had mentioned he had a room booked at the hotel. He was a very good-looking man for his age—and I did like older men. He could have gotten me into bed with a less expensive restaurant. Once he’d gotten me in bed, though, I didn’t need to have a dinner added in to be there again.

I hadn’t kept my inclinations much of a secret, and being in the male model mold and thus in high demand in Bangkok, I’d been “out there” in my dress fashions, buying—and occasionally modeling—John Fowler pastel leisure wear and having my other clothes tailored across Sukhumvit Road from there at Raja’s. There weren’t many other places in the world where it was natural for men to have even their underwear custom made. I couldn’t have been surprised that my reputation had gotten around the expatriate business community in Bangkok—or that Gerson would eventually find out that the mistress apartment he was paying for was playing host to cocks that weren’t his.

Gerson had wanted to impress Ted Mattison in a Bangkok briefing on the two firms going in on the same project in Singapore, and, telling me he wanted me to be extra nice to Mattison, Gerson put me out there in front of the man in a briefing.

“Yes, Ted, I’ll wear that shirt.” I didn’t think it would have quite the same effect this time, as I didn’t have the deep tan in Hong Kong that I had been able to build and keep by playing tennis shirtless in Bangkok. But if that was what Ted wanted . . .

“And, lest you misunderstand, I’d like you to be very, very accommodating to Jason Fong.”

“Yes, I understand,” I said. I most certainly did. He didn’t need signal flags to convey his wishes to me in the sexual servicing department.

The briefing went fine. I took the jacket off to the gray pinstripe suit I’d had made at Raja’s in Bangkok and that was quite attracting in its own right, and I gave the briefing to Jason Fong and his people in the diaphanous shirt that showed my cut torso and the nipple rings off to great effect. Nothing of my tanned and sculpted torso and the rings in my nipples to the imagination, and Mattison took me for a ride that night in his room at the Mandarin Hotel—not as ritzy as the Mandarin Oriental, but nearly so, and closer to both where I now taught tennis, at the Royal Bangkok Sports Club, and my courtesan apartment on Phyathai Road.

Three weeks later, I was moving to Hong Kong to work for Mattison and Sons. Gerson looked pleased. I don’t know if our relationship had gotten too well known for his comfort or if Mattison paid him off somehow. I’d heard rumors too that Gerson’s rich wife was getting wind that Gerson had an extra bedpartner socked away, and I think Gerson was getting nervous about her finding out that the mistress wasn’t female. I didn’t really care. Mattison had a thicker cock and a more forceful backswing.

Fong had been a surprise. He was Chinese, of course, but he was a sexy man, handsome and imperial of face, tall of stature, almost gaunt, and himself outfitted in an expensive silk suit that might have been tailored by Raja’s to the specification of “attract the men of a certain persuasion.” The attention he gave me both before, during, and after my briefing made it obvious that Ted Mattison had gauged correctly how I could help his firm land the shopping center engineering contract. His gaze could be described as the stereotyped Chinese “inscrutable” look, but it had obvious intent, confidence, and command behind it. I had every reason to believe, just from his gaze, that he would be a demanding and cruel master, and that caused a shiver of anticipation to go up my spine as I briefed him.

After the session, Ted invited Fong to have a drink with him in the Landmark Mandarin Hotel bar. “Kurt Gordon, who gave the accounting briefing, will join us,” he said. Fong accepted. I knew what Ted said, as I was waiting just on the other side of a screen for my entrance cue, assuming Fong was interested in what was being offered. He obviously was. The way his gaze undressed and used me during the briefing assured me that we had him hooked.

Over drinks, with Fong seated next to me, his long, expressive fingers were constantly touching my arm during our chatting, which had to be on purpose because the man was not animated otherwise. He was the model of inscrutability, assessing everything and everyone with dark, piercing eyes under bushy dark eyebrows shot with gray. When I didn’t shy away from these touches, the hand went to my knee under the surface of the table, and I didn’t shy away from that, either. He obviously knew what was on offer here. Every look he gave me expressed “you will suffer” and made me tremble.

“I wish I could stay to have dinner with you, but I’m afraid I have another engagement,” Ted said after our third drink. “I recommend the hotel dining room if you didn’t have other plans. And, of course, Gordon could stay and have dinner with you, if you wished to have company.”

“That would be quite satisfactory,” Fong said, during his cold, yet piercing eyes on me, daring me to say that I had another engagement too. Of course I didn’t. Fong was my engagement through the night, if that was what he wished.

That was what Fong wished.

After dinner, he engaged a hotel limousine to take us to an exclusive male strip club reached down an alley in the old city, demonstrating that Fong knew his way around Hong Kong much better than I did. We stayed through the scene in which an old, gnarled, big-cocked Asian man entering in an old empire-style Mandarin-collar silk robe, tossed it off with a flourish, and whipped a small, naked, blond Westerner bound to an X-frame before approaching him with a cruelly upcurved erection as the curtains closed. During this scene, Fong, sitting close beside me, had a tight grip on my forearm and was trembling, like he was living in the scene himself.

And perhaps he was—and had me in the scene with him too. His grip was strong enough to make me wince and to leave a red mark.

He fucked me on the bed in his Landmark Mandarin Hotel suite, doing so quite expertly. He was tall and thin, but he was hard-bodied, big cocked—being extraordinarily long—strong, virile, vigorous, and long lasting. In the buildup to the fuck, he made me feel special. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching me as I started to undress. He brushed my hands away, though, and undressed me himself and then bade me to stand before and turn this way and that as, albeit being expressionless, he conveyed that I was desirable by how he turned me and touched me with his hands. I knelt before him, took his long cock in my mouth, and gave him head.

When he stood, I started to undress him as he had done me, but he wouldn’t have any of that. He made me recline on the bed and watch him slowly disrobe, stroke himself hard as a rock, and slowly roll on a condom.

The man was so serious and deliberate in his approach. He was all business. When we moved into sex, he relentlessly pushed to the end.

When he came down on the bed, he captured me in a strong embrace, held me close from in back, both of us on our sides. His face was buried in my throat, one arm encircled my waist, holding me in position, the other one was grasping and bending and pushing my right leg up into my belly. He worried my hole with his long, long sheathed cock until, with a grunt from him, and a deep moan from me, he entered, entered, entered me in a strong, deep thrust and fucked me. He released my leg, his right hand went to grasping my cock, and he stroked me off while he maintained a steady rhythm of his thrusts inside me. He was all business then, relentlessly moving to his release.

Later, I rode him in a cowboy, facing him and leaning back, pressing my hands into his knees while I used the leverage of my own bent knees to rise and fall on a cock that was battering the walls of my deep inner core, where few other men had ever reached.

When he was fucking me in a missionary position, he reached over to the nightstand and came back with a square of cloth in his hand. He covered my nose and mouth with this, the cloth giving off a strong, sweet odor, and I only had time to see two of the men who had been with him at the briefing table earlier in the day come sliding into the room before my eyes rolled up into my head and I blacked out.

* * * *

When I came to, I was in a private compartment of a moving train. I was sprawled on a bench, leaning against a full-wall window, my legs spread, dressed in what I had worn to the briefing in Hong Kong for James Fong. He was sitting on the bench across the compartment from me and facing me. He was in a business suit and was going through some papers with a brief case on the bench beside him. A glance through the window at the landscape we were passing through—terraced rice paddies—told me we weren’t in Hong Kong anymore.

“What? Why?” I managed.

“Ah, awake, are we?” he said. “You are on your way to Beijing with me,” he said. “I have a deal with Ted Mattison, and you will be the liaison with his company in Beijing.”

“If I accept the position?” I asked.

He gave me a pointed look and a little scowl and said, “Now let’s not be that way. At my request Ted Mattison has assigned you to the position.”

“If I don’t want to go to Beijing with you?”

He gave a dry little laugh. “That doesn’t seem to be an option. You are going to Beijing with me now. Even if you didn’t make it to Beijing, the world would believe you were there—forever, and totally uncommunicative, if need be.”

I got what he was saying. “Who knows you have kidnapped me?”

“Kidnapped is such a strong word,” he said. “You work for Mattison. He wants this deal badly. I will take good care of you—very good care. Last night you certainly seemed to react like I was taking good care of you. Mattison covers you. I understand that the man in Bangkok who gave you to Mattison took good care of you. You are a male whore. You don’t seem to have any scruples about tipping over for a man under the instruction of another man. I don’t see the need—or anything useful—for unpleasantness over who is taking care of you or how. Shall we avoid any unpleasantness now?”

“You drugged me,” I asked. He just shrugged, so I guess that didn’t mean much to him. Under the circumstances, it didn’t seem to be all that big of a point for me to make either. I was here; this was now.

So, Gerson had made a deal with Mattison in Bangkok to release me to Ted. I had wondered. It had been entirely too smoothly done. And Ted. He didn’t seem to have any trouble in using me as a bargaining chip with Fong. “Who knows I am going to Beijing?” I asked.

“As far as I know, only Ted Mattison,” Fong answered with a dismissive flip of his hand. “He said that no one else in the firm would question your absence or care about it. You are off the map now as far as anyone where you came from is concerned. Do you understand?”

That was credible, I had to admit. I hadn’t been in Hong Kong for long and hadn’t developed any friendships here. Others in the accounting department of Mattisons still seemed a bit resentful that I had been inserted there by one of the big bosses. They all seemed to know I was Ted Mattison’s sex toy and I hadn’t had time yet to prove my accounting skills. They wouldn’t miss me or even remark on me being missing.

No one I had known in Bangkok had sent me a letter or so much as an e-mail yet. I may not have given a mailing or e-mail address to anyone in Bangkok yet. I looked out of the window at the passing rural countryside. Fong could do what he liked with me on the train here and now and just have me tossed off the train into an irrigation ditch and no one would be held accountable for my disappearance. I was totally on my own.

I turned my head and looked into the man’s face. He was as calm and business like as he had been the evening before. I was just an object to him—to be used. My lifeline here was for him to continue to want to use me. He looked away when he saw surrender in my face, carefully lined the papers he was reading up into a neat pile and put them in the briefcase. Then, with one hand he leaned over and pulled the shades down over the windows and door looking out onto the train’s passageway, and with the other hand he was unbuckling and unzipping his trousers.

He stopped, gave me a sharp look, and said, “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I wish you to refer to me as Master Fong,” he said.

“Yes, Master Fong,” I said.

“Good. Now come over here on your knees and pay homage to me.” He was slipping his trousers and silk underdrawers off, but keeping his shirt and suit coat on. It was clear to me what homage to him was and I moved to him on my knees to between his spread thighs, took his cock in my mouth, and gave him sensual head. I didn’t stint on the sensual part. I was in no position to show any pique or resentment of the position I was in. I knew I wasn’t to mention again that I had been drugged and put on the train without my permission.

Homage was to be more than a blow job on the train as it sped toward the capital city of Beijing. He wanted me naked, although all he’d shed was his trousers and boxers. As the train moved over the rails to a clack-clack sound and a rhythm of gliding over uneven rails, I, the courtesan now, was sitting, naked, in the Master’s lap, facing him, my legs bent and bracketing his thighs, as he held me in an embrace, sucked on the rings in my nipples, and I rose and fell on his sheathed and buried cock, using the leverage of my knees and working to match the rhythm of the train wheels moving from one rail to the next.

* * * *

The Mandarin Master, James Fong, was a prideful man of detail. He knew his work precisely. He rightly had pride in this, but that pride also made him arrogant. He knew every square inch of me and my sexual response. He knew where to touch me to arouse me and make me groan; he knew what position with me allowed him greatest and deepest access; he knew what to do inside me to make me moan and flow. But he underestimated me. He thought of me as only good for riding his cock and keeping an accounting ledger. He didn’t think me capable in any other aspect. The language of Beijing, the capital city of China, is Mandarin. Mandarin was the language I studied at the university—and, although I wasn’t proficient in any way in the language when I came to Beijing, I knew enough to figure out what was being discussed at Fong’s banquet table when it was assumed I was just a dumb American male whore, and, over the weeks of my imprisonment in Beijing I grew to understand more.

Beijing, once the ancient imperial capital of China, had become a modern city, with skyscrapers, when viewed across the skyline, but underneath, at street level, the traditional walled compounds where multiple generations lived together were still in evidence, and overlaying it all still was the killing smog created by millions of open-air charcoal-burner fires and the dust swirling down from the Mongolian steppes. Fong, the patriarch of a construction empire that had built many of the skyscrapers now dominating city, had retreated into the Manchu empire in his personal life. He lived in what was a rambling ancient palace compound, he ruled his servant-and-concubine world with the iron fist of an autocratic emperor, and the dress and customs imposed in his palace were those of the eighteenth century.

I was one of his in-residence concubines, of which he kept both young women and men. We weren’t there just for his personal sport, although he used whatever man or woman who took his fancy at any given moment. He also employed us as chits in his maintenance and expansion of his empire. In this way, he was no different than Gerson was in Bangkok and Mattison was in Hong Kong. He was just the Chinese version of them.

When Fong went to his downtown offices in one of the city’s skyscrapers, he wore a tailored business suit, as did I when I was taken in to do what little work there was to do on the shopping center project—and, as the days and weeks went by, I increasingly was allowed to move around the city on my own. What could I do? I was completely out of my element. I could probably have found an Internet café to message out, but Fong had done his research well on me. I had completely cut ties in the States. I’d left there under a cloud, and I hadn’t established any in either Bangkok or Hong Kong that weren’t part of what had put me here. I wasn’t just a sexual submissive; I also was of a rather weak, just float along and take it as it came, personality. Gerson had known that; Mattison had known that; and Fong knew it too.

I went with the flow on dress. In Fong’s palace compound, we wore the high-collared, slim silk and brocade robes of the emperor’s court. And we dined and were entertained in ancient, garishly painted pavilions by musicians at low tables, our bodies supported by silk pillows. Under the robes, Fong and I were naked, so upon any whim he had, Fong could bring our naked bodies together and his shaft inside me, quickly and with little fuss—and Fong frequently was in the mood. And, knowing me as he did, I gave him whatever he wanted, moaning and panting for him.

When an official or another businessman was so important to Fong that he invited them to the palace compound to wine and dine there, they were briefed well enough first to know that an evening at Fong’s was a step back in time, and all he invited obviously enjoyed that. They dressed in traditional style and they were offered their choice of young woman or man, according to their preference—or both, if they wished—to dally with while they and Fong were jockeying their business deals.

If the visitor took an especial liking to one of the concubines, he was waited upon by the concubine each time he visited. A traditional Chinese evening in the palace was long and elaborate. It included access to the sleeping pavilions with the concubine of assignment. A high-ranking Chinese army general, Lee Win, took a shine to me, and thus I became his personal toy when he dined at the palace. And he dined here a lot.

It was obvious that Fong gave the general his choice of companion while he was in the palace as an inducement for Lee Win to give Fong’s projects his support.

It was with interaction with the general during the entertainments in Fong’s palace, especially when the two talked while the general was fondling me before he retired with me to a private pavilion for challenging sex, that I learned that the shopping center was, by no means, a high-priority project for Fong’s business. It was, in fact, mostly a cover. Most of Fong’s business, contracted through his bribery of such government officials as General Lee Win, was, in fact, of military application—most specifically of building reenforced bunkering for defensive and offensive missile systems. The two were less than guarded when I was there not only because minions like me were invisible to Mandarins like Fong and Win but also because they were so arrogant that they made no attempt to learn that I, in fact, had studied their language and could understand much of what they were saying. To them I was just an American male whore, only good to look at with the satisfaction of owning a handsome young American and to be sexually desirable to men who preferred men.

Whereas Fong was proficient in bed, Lee Win was demanding and cruel and, older than Fong, he needed assistance in preparing for carrying out sex. He was a military man, and one, I suspect, who had long service with Chinese intelligence—and had specialized in prisoner interrogation. Although I was not tortured beyond the limits of endurance when he was using me—as perhaps the soldiers he interrogated for what they knew had been—he could not achieve an erection without physically punishing the young man he wanted to fuck—which was me. When he visited, I became well acquainted with binding, X-frames, and various forms of stocks—and of floggers and whips and leather straps and a good deal of slapping about. It never went to the extremes that I could tell that Lee Win was capable of—and that maybe he might build to at some time when he felt Fong would tolerate it or was willing to substitute a fresh submissive and let me go . . . wherever and in what way.

To some extent, the physical challenging pushed me to higher arousal levels as well. The kicker was that Lee Win was visiting increasingly often as his business arrangements with Fong increased, I suspected I wasn’t getting more alluring to Fong as I aged and Lee Win wore me down, and it was evident that Lee Win was needing an increase in the preparations to be able to achieve an erection.

Time was getting short, one way or the other. And, thanks to the coordination between the general and Fong, the strategic threat to the world—and the United States—was soon to increase exponentially. It wasn’t just a patriotic duty to try to warn the United States of this impending change. I also had had to leave the United States because I had been placed at a great legal disadvantage—my submissive nature having put pressure on me to advantage certain political forces over others. I had been without leverage in that particular struggle. Getting information on China’s strategic capabilities back to the States would give me the leverage to be able to return if I wanted.

And, increasingly, I’d had enough of a fling in the Asian environment. Increasingly, I just wanted to go home and see if I could rise up the ladder in professional tennis.

I didn’t have long to decide whether I took action or just continued to be the submissive that men used—and because of where I had now come, that men might just use up totally.

* * * *

I walked into the American Consulate in Beijing early in an afternoon. It wasn’t easy getting in and being seen by an officer—an intelligent agent sent over from the embassy’s “station,” the unit that I knew would be staffed by CIA officers. I had no passport or other papers to show I was an American. I didn’t even know if Fong had them. They could still be in Hong Kong with Mattison, I supposed. I did, though, had a couple of names that arrested the consulate official a Marine Guard eventually took me to—and a couple of telephone numbers that obtained respect.

Once some political sources in Washington were satisfied it really was me and that I was in Beijing and that I might have some leverage that would help protect their political tales, they started some balls rolling. Two hours after I’d managed to get as far as the consulate waiting room, an officer from the embassy’s station arrived, and action began to accelerate. That officer was the first one I told all of what I knew about the project James Fong and Lee Win were working on and how I knew—and why I had certain connections in Washington, connections, luckily, that worked in consort with the U.S. intelligence community. He agreed that I should be taken to the embassy compound and not leave there until I had been fully briefed and then only under U.S. protection.

I languished in a guest room at the embassy, seeing no one but a few officers for three days. On the third day, another man, older that the others and, quite obviously more important and more in command than anyone in Beijing Station, was ushered into the bedroom where I was virtually prisoner.

“Hello, my name is Sam Winterberry, and I’m here to help you help us,” he said.

Two days later, my whole world had changed. I had told Winterberry all I knew—not just about James Fong and Lee Win and the new strategic system the Chinese were building—at least what I knew about that—but about Mattison in Hong Kong, Gerson and the hotel manager in Bangkok, and even the senators and their sex club supplied with young men, in Washington.

I found that Winterberry was no different from any of the other men who had used me. He seduced and bedded me as well, and he was an expert and cruel master. This wasn’t really that new for me. Where Lee Winn used a whip or a flogger, Winterberry used a folded-over belt, but whereas Lee Winn required such stimulation to form an erection, Winterberry did it to assert and maintain control—and, I suspect, because he thoroughly enjoyed it.

What was new for me was that he gave me options, only one of which seemed survivable. That option was to work for him in U.S. intelligence, and the big change in my world that that led to is that, having extracted all of the information from me that would serve the CIA’s interests in any way, he wanted me to return to Fong’s compound and continue gleaning information. I was not going to be extracted from China until there no longer was useful intelligence I could learn here or until I was in such personal danger that I needed to be pulled out. Winterberry had already devised an excuse for Fong on my absence from the compound. I was to turn up in a hospital with a vetted story of a hit-and-run accident that had left me unconscious and unidentifiable for days.

The brutality and willingness to use his agents was quite evident in Winterberry in that, even having bedded me and made me his, he participated in beating me so badly that I, in fact, didn’t become conscious in the hospital for a day after Fong, cleverly guided, found me there. He was there when I woke. It was evident that he suspected nothing. He had me taken back to his compound and nursed back to health. I was too important a chit with Lee Winn for him to not ensure I recovered.

My life and existence in the compound of James Fong, complete with visits from Lee Winn continued. A new servant appeared in the compound who became my conduit to Beijing Station. Winterberry had told me that at some point I would be pulled out and put on another project that would fully use my abilities. I did not count on that, though. I wasn’t sure that working for Sam Winterberry would be any more affirming or survivable than working for James Fong . . . or Ted Mattison . . . or Helmet Gerson . . . or, for that matter, a variety of U.S. senators.