Author: admin

I don’t know what drew me into the attic of the family’s old Victorian house in North Main Street in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, on a Saturday morning. I think it was because I thought there were things in the house that were missing since I’d returned from two years at the Lakeland Behavioral Health System residential facility in Springfield. There were still large areas of missing memory in my mind since the auto accident nearly four years previously that I and the doctors were trying to get back. I’d been released, at twenty-two, to come home and enroll in the two-year Three Rivers College, to start getting my life together, with the doctors saying that if anyone was going to help me get those chunks of memory back, it would be my family. But my mother and father didn’t seem a bit interested in me getting those memories back. And when I returned home, something seemed out of kilter with the house itself—things being missing or not where they had been during my life before the accident.

I had agreed with the doctors at Lakeland that I should just move on now, with starting a life, working from the main talent I seemed to have—fine arts. But it still bugged the hell out of me that I couldn’t remember certain areas, certain vital aspects of me. Like, I could come right out and say it, my sexual preferences. I didn’t know which way I wanted to swing. I was twenty-two, for god sake, and though I’d almost blanked out of couple of strategic years of my life, or big aspects of those, it was past time for me to know whether I liked women or men. I could contemplate having sex with women, but often when I did—and I’d had sex with women while in Springfield, more often than not, the images of having sex with men drifted into my consciousness. I hadn’t actually had sex with men—or I didn’t think I’d had. That last, not being sure I hadn’t had, kept rising up and biting me in the butt.

It wasn’t just some misplaced “things” that had sent me into the attic. I knew, at the back of my mind, that there had been a box I kept in my bedroom closet that had dirty books and sex magazines in it. Didn’t all guys have that? What I needed to know about my preferences, I was sure I could find from what was in that box. But there wasn’t any such box in my bedroom closet now—and I hadn’t been able to find one in the attic either. So, it was just “things” that were missing. It was clues to what I needed to know.

There were fleeting moments of past, of possibilities. Of being with someone. I could almost conjure him up in my mind and then he’d float away. Sometime between the horrendous automobile accident—or during it. Hell, I couldn’t get hold of it.

So, I was here, in the attic, going through boxes, not having been helped a bit by either of my parents and not finding that one box I was looking for. I’d noticed that stuff I remembered being in the living room—framed photos mostly—were missing and I asked about that. My father, Frank, just said, “I haven’t noticed. Ask your mother. She’s always redecorating.” But that wasn’t true. I hadn’t forgotten everything. It was just the more stressful things I’d forgotten, the doctors thought.

“I just got tired of the clutter,” she said. “I boxed them up. They’re around somewhere,” she said. She didn’t say they were in the attic. She seemed determine not to say where the stuff was and she probably didn’t notice how important it was to me at the moment. I didn’t have the nerve to ask her about the one box from my closet, but now, when I was going through other boxes in the attic, my interest had drifted to other things I found there that once were downstairs. I didn’t even know why that was important to me, but it was. There was something about the photographs that had been in the living room that was important to me. I needed to pursue the issue. She said they were boxed up and put away, but she didn’t say where. That would only mean some closets in the spare rooms—it was a big house—the basement or the attic.

It was the attic. I found the box, and I found the photos. And just before I found them and pulled them out of the box, a name came into my mind: Travis. Uncle Travis. And also, at the same time, the name became connected with that something, something taboo, in my background that my mind was refusing to acknowledge.

Did I have an uncle named Travis? Did he do something that made me unsure of my sexuality—or that clarified that for me?

* * * *

“Yes, that’s Travis. Where did you find those, Marty?”

“In a box in the attic,” I answered my father. They weren’t in the box I was looking for, but they at least gave me something to pursue to start unraveling all of these questions in my mind about “before the accident.”

He’d hardly taken his eyes away from the TV set, where the Los Angeles Rams professional football team, which Frank Blandford had been diehard enough to follow when they abandoned Saint Louis and moved west, were playing. “Those” was referring to the two framed photographs I’d brought down from the attic, two that I had remembered seeing on the piano in the living room for years.

I remembered enough about Uncle Travis to know he wasn’t that much older than I was—not more than ten years—but that he was a lot younger than either of my parents. I had no idea how he was an uncle of mine. One of the photos was of him as a boy of about twelve—I don’t know how I knew it was him, but I did—standing with my parents and an older man. A toddler was in my mother’s arms. I assumed that was me. The other photo was of Travis in his Navy uniform, and again I don’t know why I knew it was him, I just did. He was maybe nineteen or twenty and he was one fine-looking dude. The term “sexy” came to my mind unbidden, and, yes, it disturbed me that it had.

Something about Travis. There was something about Travis that no one seemed to want me to recover in my memory. What had Travis done with—or to me? I somehow knew there was something considered unmentionable.

“What’s happened to Uncle Travis?” I asked. “Why have his photos been put away?”

“What are you thinking about Travis?” my dad said. His eyes went back to the TV and I could see that he tensed up. “Are you remembering something that had been lost?”

He said that almost in a dreading tone. What was up with that? I wondered. This was why they finished with me at Lakeland. It had been too long working with the doctors there and I’d reached an impasse with my memory. They’d said the best chance of unlocking my mind was to return home—to Polar Bluff—and get back into what was intended to be the progression of my life: going to junior college in art before leaving home and going further afield. My mom had agreed with that. For some reason my dad hadn’t. For some reason it was almost like my dad didn’t want me to remember. What did he know that he wanted me to forget? Did it have something to do with Uncle Travis?

“I’m not remembering much. But I remembered that his photos had been on the piano in the living room and they’re now in the attic. I can almost remember something . . . something about him.”

“There isn’t much use of that anymore,” Dad said, still staring into the TV although they had gone to commercials. “He’s dead. There’s nothing more to know there.” The last came out almost like an afterthought.

“Dead? How did he die? When?” I blurted out.

“Ask your mother, if you must. He’s from her side. But it’s best just to drop it.” I was halfway toward the door to the corridor leading to the kitchen where I could hear my mother humming when he added, “And he’s not really your uncle. He’s not related to any of us, thank god.”

Now, what the hell did that mean? Why was this a sore point with Dad? It proved to be a sore point with Mom, too, though.

“Travis is best forgotten, Martin,” she said, turning her head to look out of the window over the kitchen sink. She was not any more anxious to do a face-to-face with me on the subject of Travis Trent than my father had been.

Travis Trent—another tidbit of information coming out of the fog to me. His last name was Trent—he didn’t share our last name of Blandford. But then, Dad had said he was from Mother’s side. She wasn’t a Trent either. Playing detective like this wasn’t a bit of fun.

“And what made you think of him?”

“Dad told me just now he was from your side of the family. Your brother, I guess, if he’s my uncle. But Dad also said he wasn’t related to us.”

“Well, he isn’t,” she answered, deciding that the kitchen table needed to be wiped off vigorously with a wet cloth, which, again, required that she be looking away from me. “My dad married again after your grandmother died. His new wife was a Trent, widowed, with a boy. So, Travis technically isn’t in our family.”

But he had been raised in the family for some years. I knew that, although, again, I had no idea how I knew that. I seemed to be open doors into my brain, a crack at a time. Was this the way the Lakeland doctors thought my memories would come back to me after that automobile accident?

It didn’t escape me that Mom was referring to Travis in the present tense, not the past. Was that from some sort of sloppiness or didn’t she consider Travis to be as dead as Dad said he was. I could see Mom was trembling, though, and I didn’t want to make her stroke out, so . . .

She closed this out for now herself. “The trashmen come tomorrow,” she said. “Could you go around and collect it and get the bin down on the street. Your father is so engrossed in that football game that I’m afraid he’ll forget to do it. And then, you’re looking a little feverish. Maybe you should lie down for a while—not work on this memory thing as hard as you’re doing. Supper will be a little late.”

She was closing down on this Uncle Travis thing as quickly and as hard as Dad had done. And maybe I was pushing too hard and fast on this.

There just was something about Uncle Travis. And it was related, I somehow knew, to my problem of having images of men come up when I was with a woman. I wasn’t clear on my preferences. And for some reason I was connecting Uncle Travis with all of that. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at the photos again. Yes, indeed, he was one handsome, sexy dude in the Navy uniform. As I mounted the stairs, I tried to put that out of my mind. But that was the basic problem. Since the auto accident there was entirely too much missing from my mind.

Whence Uncle Travis? Living or dead? Did something happen in the Navy? Did something happen between Travis and me? Why was I obsessing over this?

* * * *

“Do you really not remember the automobile accident?”

“Just snatches of what happened while it was happening and afterward—nothing before. It’s like a section of my life got wiped out and my memory didn’t start again until I was in the hospital, pretty banged up.”

“Were you alone in the car? You said something about being ejected from the passenger seat. That would mean there was someone else. Who was it? You weren’t driving?”

“Did I say I was ejected from the passenger seat?” I asked. “I don’t remember whether that was true.” But, in fact, I now accepted it as true. This was how bits and pieces of my memory were coming back to me. I’d been told I had been in the passenger seat. That must be in the accident report somewhere—wherever a copy of that was now. As Travis’s visage floated by in my consciousness. Was I in the car with Travis? Was Dad right? Had Travis died in the crash? Was he the one who was driving? Where could I find a copy of the accident report? Why hadn’t I looked for it before now? But maybe I had, and that was a memory I’d decided to bury.

I was at the library checkout desk in the Poplar Bluff public library on North Main Street, within walking distance of my parents’ house—well, still my house, as well. I’d been in the town for several months now and was settling in, studying art at Three Rivers College and working part time as an UPS driver, and I’d even acquired a girlfriend, Jennifer, one of the librarians here. I’d known Jennifer in high school. We’d dated a bit then. We dated even more now. We’d slept together, which she seemed quite satisfied with and I thought went pretty well, although I didn’t find it fully satisfying. But only now was she getting around to asking me for details on the automobile accident and the resultant loss of memory. I couldn’t help her all that much about either, and my attention was somewhat distracted now.

Jennifer noticed my divided attention. “What have you been staring at?” she asked. “Oh, I see. That’s Josh over there. You must be taken with the resemblance.” She motioned for the young man, about my age, to come over. He had been sitting at a library table, talking to another young black man. They’d had their heads together, but I supposed that might have only because we were in a library and they were trying to be quiet. Both of them where strikingly handsome young men, well-dressed, and obviously taking very good care of themselves. They also were touching each other with their hands as they talked, which I had always associated with being Italian—or with something else. They both were a light chocolate brown, so I didn’t think they were Italian.

I also don’t think I had been watching one of them closely because of the resemblance between him and Jennifer. Jennifer was mixed race, her mother white and her father black, but it’s not something you’d know from looking at her. You’d probably guess she was from somewhere in the Mediterranean. I could see now, though, that she’d pointed it out, that there was a resemblance between the two.

The young man who Jennifer had called Josh saw her gesture, spoke briefly to the other young man, and then rose and came over to the desk.

“This is my brother, Josh,” Jennifer said. “He’s an ICU nurse over at the Pershing VA Medical Center. This is Marty Blandford, who I’d known in high school, Josh. I’ve told you about him.”

“You most certainly did,” Josh said, giving me a dazzling smile. He was a hunk, square-jawed and handsome as the devil. He looked more like one of those doctors on a TV soap opera than a nurse, but if I needed nursing he’d certainly do. His handshake was firm. He looked directly into my eyes and I was afraid he could discern what I was thinking. I’m sure I blushed. The blush came from my growing awareness that I might like men more than I did women.

Jennifer hadn’t told me anything about her brother, Josh, though. And she didn’t now. We engaged in a bit of whispered discussion, enough for Josh to know that Jennifer and were dating, but not enough—at least from this conversation—for him to know we were fucking, and then he was off, saying he had to get back to work. Apparently, the other young man was a nurse at the VA hospital too, as they left together. I wondered what else they did together. I admonished myself in my thoughts for visioning what I might like to do with either or both of them.

The reaction I’d had to Josh was similar to what I occasionally had to other men as well—enough that it kept me off balance and confused, and enough that it made me try all the much more with Jennifer in bed to convince myself that’s what I preferred. Another man had affected me in that way in these last five months. That was my art instructor, Slava Zoukoff, at Three Rivers College. He was maybe in his early forties, but he was a man who touched you when he talked to you too, who gave you—me, at least—meaningful looks and extra attention in class, and who was handsome and quite fit for his age. I did think of him inappropriately from time to time. He had an unusual past—an Australian whose family was White Russian, royalists, who escaped the Russian revolution and then the Red Guards revolution in China before arriving in Missouri by way of Australia. And there was Uncle Travis, too. I still thought of him, the image of him in his Navy uniform floating up into my consciousness now and again. But I still haven’t unlocked the mystery of Travis and what he’d done—or what we’d done together.

The encounter with Jennifer’s brother had left me keyed up. She and I went to dinner at Tio’s Bar and Grill over near the college and then to a movie that Jennifer enjoyed and I found frustrating, as it cut off right as the actors were getting into the sack. I was in the mood for sex—seeing it and doing it. Then we went back to her apartment in the basement of an old house on Hickory Street, where, I’m happy to say, we didn’t cut off right before we got into the sack.

I’d been aching for it since I’d picked her up at the library, so it was a good session for us. We did it raunchier than we had done before, going into the sixty-nine position, with me eating her out while she sucked me off and then me on my back with her riding me in a cowboy until I needed to have full control, when I rolled over on top of her, coaxed her legs open, mounted and penetrated, and gave her a deep missionary.

I spent the night and we did it again. I didn’t worry about my parents and what they’d think. I was twenty-two. When they’d heard I was going with Jennifer, who they’d known from my high school days and that my father had long ago stopped referring to as the half-breed, they accepted it with suspiciously obvious relief—like maybe they were relieved that I was “about time” with a woman. It was a little surprising not to hear a peep out my dad about her mixed race since I’d returned home. He’d certainly had a lot to say about that when I was sweet on her in high school.

While they weren’t showing any reluctance to me being out all night with a woman with her own apartment, I must say I was having a little trouble in spending the night with Jennifer. The sex was good. I don’t want to leave the impression that it wasn’t, but it was like more than just Jennifer and I were having it. While we fucked, my muddled mind kept surfacing other images—disturbing images for the circumstance. The faces and fleeting view of much more of them of her brother, Josh, Uncle Travis, and even my art instructor, Slava Zoukoff, kept rising up, swirling around, and then fading into the great face and body of the woman I was fucking.

* * * *

Imagine my surprise when I walked into a studio art painting session at the college to find that the nude model stretched out on the dais was no other than the instructor himself, Slava Zoukoff. He was a strikingly handsome and fit man for his age—well, for any age—and he didn’t seem the least embarrassed to be posing in near nude, with just a skimpy loincloth around his hips. There was, of course, no reason for him to be embarrassed with how he looked—just that it seemed to be lacking in dignity for the instructor himself to be modeling.

He had been floating around me suggestively for the entire term, paying extra attention and encouragement to me and being very touchy-feely. He spoke with a Slavic accent and didn’t, it seemed, to have full control of English. Thus, I couldn’t be sure that some of the comments he made to me throughout the course were just not carefully and knowingly chosen rather than sexually suggestive.

Whatever the case, he hadn’t been helping me at all in my confusion over what my sexual preferences were and why, and if they went to men, when did this start and what part in that had Uncle Travis had?

My hands were trembling as I was painting. Zoukoff’s attentions to me hadn’t gone unaffecting—or unappreciated—I can’t claim. I decided I had to do something in the abstract rather than detailed realistic rendering. Still, as we were finishing up and the art instructor had come off the dais and was walking around, just in his loincloth, and inspecting what we’d done and how well he thought we’d done it, he lingered behind me, touching me with his long, sensitive fingers, his chin nearly on my shoulder as he looked at what I’d painted—and he praised my work.

Our session was only half over.

“Perhaps another nude model,” he suggested. “Anyone wish to volunteer? Maybe you, Mr. Blandford—Marty,” he said. “Yes, I think it must be you.”

What could I say? I was too discombobulated to try to paint. I might as well be the one stretched out, just in a loincloth, on the platform. So, that was how I spent the next hour. I wasn’t worried about being in the almost altogether. I had a great body and I didn’t mind showing it off. But I was afraid that my arousal would show—my arousal not so much for the situation as for the art instructor, who was obviously taken with me and wanted to make me. I was so confused, but I was also so ready. How would I know if men were what I preferred—what someone had prepared me to prefer. Maybe Uncle Travis—if I didn’t try it out.

Slava Zoukoff joined in the painting exercise. He didn’t show any of the other students what he’d painted—just me. Zoukoff was an excellent artist. He rendered his brush strokes quickly and with assurance. He’d managed to capture everything, the atmosphere and the sizzling connection between us, as well as my obvious readiness within the set hour. The painting he rendered wasn’t just of me in the near altogether. It was me in the altogether, being quite generous with the equipment he provided for me, but of he himself as well. In the painting, he was stretched out in the position of a rower in a racing skull, sitting on his rump, leaning back, naked. His arms were stretched out in front of him, his hands gripping my wrists, as I was mounted in front of him, facing away, leaning out like the figurehead on a ship, riding his cock, my legs streaming back around and behind his hips. The expression Zoukoff gave on my face in the drawing was one of sheer ecstasy. My full erection, curving up into my belly evidenced my pleasure at riding the man’s shaft.

“I think you want to come home with me at the end of the class,” he whispered in my ear.

I thought—no, I knew—that he was right. I didn’t say “yes,” but I didn’t say “no,” and when he told me to follow him home in my car, I did so.

“You seem uptight,” he said, as we were sitting on huge pillows, cross-legged, facing each other on his living room carpet. The wall beside us was a full-wall mirror. “Have you ever smoked a joint before?” It was self-evident that we would fuck; it just wasn’t clear how we’d move into it. We were both just in loincloths at this point.

“No, I haven’t—or, I don’t think I have,” I said.

“Ah, the accident you told me about—the partial loss of memory. Perhaps you don’t remember because you don’t want to. Here, take a puff on this.”

“That’s probably right,” I answered, as I took a drag on the joint.

“And these. These pills. They will loosen you up considerably.”

They certainly did. They made me not care what he’d do to me—what he did do to me.

Zoukoff was sitting on his pillow, stretched out like a rower in a racing scull, leaning back, his hands grasping my wrists, as my ass was possessed by his moving shaft, my torso jutting out and away from him, like the figurehead on a ship, my legs streaming out around and behind his hips. Our loincloths were bunched together beside us on the carpet. We were both naked—two beautiful bodies, one mature, commanding, the other young, yielding, as we fucked.

My head was turned, looking into the mirrored wall beside us. He’d gotten everything right in his painting of this, down to the expression of ecstasy on my face and the hardness of my upcurved erection following the curve of my belly.

The question of what my preference were had now been definitively answered. As Zoukoff pulled me on and off his cock, I conjured up other men in my mind. Uncle Travis was there, in the background, but only as a face. Surprisingly, what strongly came into mind was Jennifer’s interracial brother, Josh, fully revealed in his magnificent nakedness, on top of me, inside me, fucking me.

* * * *

Having discovered definitively which way I swung—or thinking I had—I wasn’t delighted when Jennifer invited me to her parents’ house for a meal and to meet them. This was moving in the opposite direction from where I was discovering I needed to go. I needed to break it off with Jennifer now—for her sake if nothing else—although, truth be told, I enjoyed her company and I even enjoyed the sex with her—just not to the degree I had with my art instructor. I had to admit, though, that the drugs probably augmented my enjoyment with him.

I was still a bit conflicted. I didn’t want to just say, “Sorry, Jennifer, I’ve found I’m gay so we can’t fuck anymore,” and walk off. I had to find a way to extract myself from the relationship in a way that didn’t hurt or shock her. I wonder what women think who lose men to other men? I’m guessing it didn’t lift their self-esteem a whole hell of a lot.

So, I went to her parents’ house. It was a great house in the pricier neighborhood off North Westwood, where other professionals like Jennifer’s doctor father gathered. He was black, and married to a white, but he was rich, so the town gave him a pass. He was also a handsome, well-built man with a good smile and a wonderful bedside manner. He certainly had passed the good looks onto this son, Josh. The bedside manner he must have passed on to his son, as well, because Josh, milk-chocolate to Jennifer’s much lighter complexion, was at the dinner and all bedroom eyes when he looked at me.

Josh slipped me a note while everyone was shuffling around, which said “Midnight at Pepe’s Tavern off 55, near Hydro Adventures. Only if you want to.”

I knew that tavern was a gay bar.

So, here we go. Unless, of course, when I left here it was to take Jennifer back to her apartment and bang her all night, while trying to keep her dreamboat of a brother out of my mind.

There was no contest. When I arrived at Pepe’s Tavern, Josh was sitting at the bar, having polite, but “no dice” conversations with several submissives who were swimming around him. It was clear to all that Josh was a dominant—and a desirable one. It quickly became clear when I arrived that he wasn’t cruising that evening—that he’d been waiting for me—because he turned his face to the door, his smile lit up, and he turned the stool next to him to the welcome position for me when I came through the door. The guys who had been circling around him before I arrived backed off, having no trouble reading the room and where Josh and I fit in it.

“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be doing this,” I said. Josh put an arm around my shoulder, but I didn’t shrink away. I felt powerless. “I don’t want to hurt Jennifer. I don’t want to cause anything breaking in your family.”

“And yet you’re here,” Josh said. “Jennifer has told me you are conflicted and have missing chunks in your memory. She knows you aren’t sure about your sexuality, and she’s asked me to help with that. You don’t want to leave—at least you don’t want to leave without me.”

“No, I don’t,” I admitted, with resignation. “I just discovered—I just recently found what—”

“Your art teacher at the college screwed you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Until then I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t trying to deceive Jennifer. But how did you guess about Zoukoff?”

“Jennifer told me. She said she could tell by the way you too looked at each other and how hard it was for you to talk to her about him that he was humping you.”

“Just once—so far—and just this week. I was . . . I am . . . going to find a way to tell Jennifer.”

“You don’t need to strain yourself over that,” Josh said, with a laugh. “She knows. She doesn’t care. She says she doesn’t want to marry you. She just wants to enjoy you fucking her. She thinks you have a great bod. She knows we’re here now. She knows you’re probably going to come back to my apartment. She knows we’re probably going to have sex. She doesn’t care. You are going to come back to my apartment with me and we are going to have sex, aren’t we? I am going to fuck you, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I answered, honestly. There didn’t seem to be much of a point to argue about that. “But Jennifer. I can’t—”

“Sure, you can, if you enjoy fucking Jennifer. She says she doesn’t care if we’re fucking or the art teacher is fucking you too. It’s the twenty-first century. I’m sure you’ve heard about bisexuality. Sex is sex is sex. You’re sexy, no matter who you’re doing it with. Shall we leave now? You can follow me in your car.”

* * * *

This was it. This was the one. Shit, he was big. Fuck he filled me, possessed me, stretched me. Chocolate on vanilla. His arms ran down mine, his brown hands gripping my wrists, forcing my arms above my head, pressed to the sheets of his bed, my cheek rubbing against the satin, my eyes looking into the mirror on the back of the closet door across the room, near the bed. Watching him—us—in profile. His beautiful body hovering over mine, his legs bent. Me on my knees, raising my butt to his command. My trembling torso pressed to the sheets.

He was mounted on my hips, his shaft deep inside me, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. Fucking me, owning me.

“Fuck! Yes! Do it. Do it all!”

Afterward, we lay there. This was it. This was the one. All the time—all the time Josh was inside me, fucking me, I didn’t think of anyone else. Not Slava Zoukoff, not Uncle Travis. Certainly not Jennifer. Only Josh.

“What can I tell her?” I whispered.

“You don’t have to tell her anything,” Josh answered. “She knows. We’ve shared before. You don’t even have to give her up.”

“I was never really sure, not until now. I thought I was, but I wasn’t.”

“Is this about the automobile accident? About not remembering a lot of things?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“And this other guy—this uncle of yours?”

“Travis. Yes, but he apparently isn’t really my uncle. But I think he may have done something—something to make me bend this way.”

Josh laughed. “You either do or don’t. Nobody makes you that way. And I think people can bend both ways. Sex is sex is sex.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“And you’ve got to know what it was with you and this Travis. You can’t let that go, can you?”

“I could, I think. Now that there’s you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Josh said.

Josh was right. I couldn’t. I really couldn’t let it go.

* * * *

I’d told Josh I’d let go of the need to settle the mystery of Uncle Travis, but he obviously didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe me either. Two days later, he’d dragged me to the public library to see Jennifer. I hadn’t talked to her since Josh had owned me—and he did own me—but she acted like nothing had happened since dinner at her house—that the world hadn’t completely turned upside down. We were there because she was a research librarian and the library had local newspaper files going back to the founding of the town sometime before 1850.

“Did you ask your parents when this accident was?” Jennifer asked as she walked us back to the research room where they kept the old microfiche readers. Most newspapers were in computer files now, but Poplar Bluff was a bit behind the times. Its newspaper files were still being put into the microfiche photographic archives system.

“I asked, but they were as evasive as ever,” I answered. “My dad told me just to forget about it. That’s hard to do if I can’t remember it. But it’s not hard to come up with a month at least. It was in 2018—in June, I’m pretty sure. I know I was in the hospital until it was almost time for school to start—and then I was shipped off to Lakeland in Springfield rather than starting here at Three Rivers College.”

“It won’t be hard to narrow it down, then, if the accident was here.”

“I’m sure it was,” I answered, as Jennifer settled down in front of a microfiche reader and picked up the cartridges of the local Daily American Republic newspaper for the past five years. Josh and I stood behind her, Josh pulling me in close by putting an arm around me and palming my hip. If Jennifer noticed the maneuver, she didn’t react. It wasn’t long before she’d found the coverage of the accident.

“There it is. A one-car accident, north of town on 60, near the intersection with 67. There’s your name and a Travis Trent. Is that—?”

“Yes, Uncle Travis. Not really my uncle, it seems. The son of my mother’s father’s second wife. It’s complicated.”

“Uh, oh,” Jennifer blurted out.

“Uh, oh, what?” I asked.

“You’re right. It’s complicated. The car went off the road and flipped over. Speeding. A one-car accident. But the car was stolen. Your uncle—your not your uncle—Travis was being charged with auto theft as well as speeding and reckless driving.”

“Auto theft?” I exclaimed. I searched my brain for some sort of recognition, but the only thing that was coming up was to ask what I did. “Does it say who was driving?”

“Yes. Travis Trent. They had to cut him out of the car. He was in the driver’s seat.”

I almost didn’t want to ask the next question. “Did he die? Does it say?” My dad insisted Travis was dead.

“It doesn’t say here. Let me see if there’s more.” I held my breath as she scrolled. “No, there’s coverage here of a case.” More scrolling. “He pleaded guilty.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t remember much about Travis and there was still that possibility in the background that he’d messed with me, helped me be what I was today—although now that I’d gone across the divide, I was glad I was what I was. So, was that it with my parents? They wrote Travis off because he stole a car—because he involved me in that? How much was I involved in that? Did I know we were driving in a stolen car? Questions were being answered, but they were raising more questions. “So, what now?” I said aloud.

“Now you get a lawyer,” Josh said.

“A lawyer? What do I need with a lawyer?”

“You still have questions. This Travis isn’t dead—or, at least, wasn’t when you had the accident. You still have questions of and about him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“So, you need a lawyer. You need to find out where he is. Probably in prison somewhere, right?”

“Yes.” Exactly. Josh was taking the lead here. He was dominant and I was submissive. That was just the way I wanted it.

* * * *

“And you’ve come looking for me now, because . . . ?” Travis stopped there and gave me an expectant gaze through thick glass wall between us with the lines of metal mesh that, I guess, was meant to be an added barrier if one or the other of us decided to go ballistic and somehow got the glass broken. We were at the Algoa Corrections Center up in Johnson City, where the lawyer Josh got for me found Travis Trent, my not-uncle was incarcerated. Josh was waiting for me out in the parking lot.

“My dad insisted you were dead. And, I wasn’t really all that sure you actually existed,” I added.

“So, you’re not here because you remember everything?” Travis said after a short pause, where he scrutinized my face. “It’s not part of my deal with your family that you track me down.”

“No, I don’t remember much of anything. I want to—especially whatever there was between the two of us. Although that doesn’t matter as much now. I’ve settled on that.”

“You have a keeper of a boyfriend now, you mean?”

That caught me up. “How did you know it would be a man? What did you do to me?”

“I fuckin’ did nothing to you, Marty. You were the one who were hitting on me. There wouldn’t have been an accident, if you hadn’t . . .” He stopped there, though.

“What do you mean?” I persisted. “What is it my parents are afraid of? What is this deal you say you have with my parents?”

He visibly sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. I get out of here in just over a month—in forty-six days and,” he looked at his watch, “three hours.”

“That’s all I want. I don’t want to not know any longer. The doctors said it would all come back eventually—if I didn’t insist on subconsciously blocking it. But I’m still blocking it, so maybe it’s more than just that I want it from men. I thought that was the issue. I thought you had abused me sexually and I couldn’t come to grips with liking men.”

“Sexually abused you? That’s a laugh. But you’ve come to grips with being queer now?” he said. “You do have a guy who does you?”

“Yes, I’ve come to grips with that—with being at least bi–and I do have guys who do me. But still I can’t remember.”

“You got that right about there being more that could block the memory.”

“What? Tell me. Not knowing is worse than knowing.”

“You might be right there. OK—because it doesn’t matter much anymore. We went off the road because you were trying to give me a blow job and I don’t swing that way.”

“So, you’re not—?”

“No, I’m not. And I have a woman—I had one then. I’ll be joining her in Florida from here—at least I hope she’ll let me join her. I have my electrician’s license and she’s already set up a business there. I’m leaving for Florida the day they let me out of here. Your family is just as dead to me as your father says I am. I don’t want to have anything to do with them—or you.”

“So, my folks are stonewalling because they thought you and I were having sex.”

“No, that’s not it—not with your parents. If they know you’re gay it’s because of something that’s happened since the accident. What they’re afraid of is the truth—having the truth come out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t steal that car. You did. You had a snit with the man who was fucking you and you stole his car.”

“You were behind the wheel.”

“Not when you stole it. You stole it and were hopped up. You drove to my place. I was returning it, hoping the guy who was humping you would think it all was funny and would let it all blow away—which he would, because he did anyway. He didn’t want people to know he was fucking you. You came on to me in the car and that made me go off the road.”

“But you took the rap for it, and why, if my parents didn’t know that sex with a man was involved, have they been so secretive about it the last three years?”

“They know you stole the car. You stopped at your parents’ house before coming to me. You were hopped up and boasted about jacking the car. They’ve been paying me to take the rap. What I got from them is going to set me up in a business of my own in Florida. I was behind the wheel. It was an uphill battle to prove it wasn’t me. And my lawyer told me that the other charges, the speeding and reckless driving, were going to get me in prison for about as long anyway. Your parents knew you stole the car.”

Oh.

“It doesn’t matter now. And I believe you about not remembering any of it, so whatever has happened isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you to begin with. You were confused. I was being nice to you and you thought I was interested in more. That Barry Jackson is a real shit. He’s the one that got you hopped up that day anyway.”

“Barry Jackson, the banker?” I said. “He’s fat and ugly.” It occurred to me then that the newspaper article might have identified whose car had been stolen, especially as it was a pillar of the professional community in Poplar Bluff, but Jennifer hadn’t said. Maybe if I’d heard the name “Barry Jackson” that would have jogged my memory, and it all would have come back to me. But no use thinking about that now.

“Precisely. But he also is the first guy who spiked you. I hope you’re doing better for yourself now.”

I was doing better now. A whole hell of a lot better. Josh was loads better than just better.

“Just let it go, Marty. Your parents stop paying once I’m out of here. They gave enough to set me up in business in Florida, and we can all just be dead to each other. They’ve been through enough not to have it come back on them that you now know everything. Stay unknowing. We’re almost at the end of it. Just let it go. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Out in the parking lot,” I said.

“Go out to him and if you start remembering any of this, try to forget it again. It’s all done. We’re all good from here—dead to each other and all good.”

And, so, that’s what I did.

 Some dude’s first person account-

“Slow night at the sauna. Like most Wednesday nights in fact. That was just another reason for us to be there. Less dudes, more chance of getting something half decent for ourselves. Me and Darragh that is. We’ve been mates since the late ‘90s when we were the fresh new meat on the scene. In those days we had to fend the guys off. Especially Darragh. I was pretty hot shit, but Darragh was a stunner. Of course, back then we’d fucked each other a lot. We fucked a lot generally. But we’d remained good mates even after our passion for each other had faded with our aging bodies and vanishing looks. These days, we were content to cruise together. And Wednesday night was student night. Hence the night of interest for all those who savour college bussy. Our night.

The best places to get some we found were the down-market, dingy establishments. Student penury and all that. At least that’s what it was like when we were at college, twenty something years ago. And these cheap saunas tended to be quieter anyway. You didn’t get a lot of those loud scene queens who treated them like extensions of the nightclub. You got ordinary mature blokes and the odd college-age lads. I suppose we are of the former group these days, me and Darragh; early 40s, a bit flabby, a bit saggy, not too far over the hill, but not fit young things either. We weren’t interested in our own peers though. We wanted college jock meat. Here on a Wednesday night is where it could be found.

But, apparently, not this Wednesday. We had been in here since 11pm or thereabouts. Nothing much doing. The usual grey, white or balding dudes. Beer bellies, leather skins, etc. A few lads we knew from the glory days, but now thoroughly on the turn towards dirty-old-bastard status. Plenty on offer, but nothing appealing. We headed to one of the porn viewing rooms upstairs. Might as well. There was usually something good on the screens. Some Czech porn. Cute jocks and pretty twinks.

We were there, in the darkness, on one of the leather couches, stroking our schlongs uncommittedly watching the TV on the wall. There was one other dude in there. He was of our vintage. As indifferent to us as we were to him.

Then, they came in. Fuck, they were gorgeous! A group of four scally lads from somewhere well north of Watford. Three white, one West Asian. All fit young dudes in their early 20s. They were raucous enough coming in. Then they just sat themselves on the sofa at the back wall, behind us. Our dicks very quickly sprang back to life. We would have some fun with these lads.

Having downed more vodka than Darragh during our earlier binge at the club, I had the edge in Dutch courage. I gave Darragh a knowing wink, gripped up my towel around my waist, turned and headed down back towards the lads.

“Alright boys. Any of you got any poppers?” I hailed as I approached.

The one in the middle caught my eye first. He was rippingly sexy. Blonde, pale skin, healthy ruddy cheeks, rosebud lips. He was grinning impishly at me.

“yeh man. We do. Is that all you want to know?” he snickered wryly

His mate beside him, a shaven headed young jock, passed a jar of poppers to him. The blonde opened and inhaled extravagantly.

“awh, yeah man!” he continued “so good! These almost make a sad, flabby old perv like you look alright!”

They all laughed. I felt my dick begin to shrivel in humiliation. Here I was in all my now-middle-aged glory. Catching lip from some smart-assed twink, like I most probably was back in the day.

“I think he wants your arse, Scottie-boy” came the mocking voice of another of the blonde’s pals.

“Yeh?” replied Scott, the blonde “well, he can fuckin’ dream on”

They all laughed again. Now my embarrassment was beginning to overpower my drunkenness. I was just about to turn and head back to Darragh, my manhood well and truly in retreat up my crotch.

“awhh! Dude! Don’t take it like that” Scott went on “ alright, you can have a whiff.”

I turned and shuffled over to where the lad reached out with the open bottle. I leaned in. He quickly jerked it away.

“nah! Can’t get ‘em like that. Get that towel off, get on your hands and knees and fuckin’ beg, man. Don’t tell me a fat ol’ fuck like you isn’t used to begging from some fit lad?”

I duly obliged. He reached out with the poppers again. I took in a deep breath. I felt the excited energy swell in my schlong and my crack. Was Darragh watching this? I’m being humiliated by these boys, but I’m too far gone. I need to get some of this blonde babe’s boyhole. I’ll do what it takes.

“Maybe he wants a whiff of something else, Scott”- it was the hunky West Asian guy speaking

“maybe he does too, man” replied Scott. He stood up, turned and dropped his towel, revealing a mouth-wateringly beautiful set of pearly white young buns. My dick was by now raging with desperate energy.

“Well, if you want a whiff of this, dude, you gotta show us you deserve it.” Scott turned back around. His fine healthy young donger fully hard.

He went on – “you know, mate, you’re dogshit, right? You and your sad ol’ bastard mates down there (he meant Darragh and the other guy). You’re all just dogshit. Sick fuckin ol’ pervs looking to get some lad’s arse for your kicks. You should be fuckin paying for it at your age. We wouldn’t piss on you if we didn’t have a sense of humour!”

I was trembling with excitement at this stage. The lad right; we were desperate, horny, clapped out middle aged pervs. No point denying it. We were dying to get some young bussy here. Were willing to ditch all dignity to do so. This was just the way we looked at the older dudes back when we were the hot shit. We also got our kicks from humiliating them and watching them crawl to get anywhere near our fresh young arses.

“I got a present for you and your mates” said Scott “c’mon back here”- he called to Darragh and the other guy.

When they were down, similarly instructed, and on all fours butt naked beside me, Scott once again squatted and presented his arse, this time to Darragh while I took in another deep breath of poppers and passed them over to the other dude, on the far side of Darragh.

I could see Darragh’s eyes light up as he moved in to get his tongue into that bussy on display. Just as he was about to reach it, however, Scott let a long, stinking fart right into Darragh’s face. Darragh moaned as the lads fell around laughing at our degradation. Darragh quickly got hold of the poppers and sucked in. That was enough to get his enthusiasm back.

Scott jumped over and got Darragh’s head between his legs. He squeezed. As he did so, his other mates got to slapping Darragh’s ass, laughing all the time.

“you!” Scott barked at me “you want a taste of me arse, you gotta give it to your dirty fuckin pal here. Go on. Stick your saggy fuckin hole in his face.”

I turned and spread, pushing my ass into Darragh’s face. Not a thrilling experience for either of us. Don’t get me wrong. Darragh was absolutely gorgeous back in the day.  I found him well tasty when we were both twinks, and he felt the same about me. But we were both well past that now. I couldn’t get a stiffy for Darragh now if I tried. And visa versa. Having my ass in his face was not his idea of a good time anymore. Hadn’t been for at least a decade. But we wanted these lads bad. So, we had to compromise.

Scott came around front-  “alright dad, take your fuckin prize”

He shoved that exquisite boyhole of his right to my lips, and gripping my head, pressed it in. I was in heaven at last! The savoury twang of that fresh hole, dripping with young musky aroma on my tongue.

I furiously worked my schlong as I plunged deep into that divine bussy

The release came like the autumn rains. I showered my load on the sticky sauna floor as both the lads and my own companions here busted their nut in filthy, sensual ecstasy.

Then, predictably, post orgasmic chill set in. We picked ourselves up. Got to the showers, and having furtively exchanged goodbyes, headed right home.

Victor’s Home

I embraced Andrew tightly as his body shuddered.  My fangs were not aching as I held this young man who I had come to consider a very dear friend, but instead my heart ached.  Andrew’s body shook as he clung to me as if I was a life preserver amidst a turbulent sea.  The reality of what I just shared with him about the horrible demise of his roommate was overwhelming and his response was not so much as grief as from fear.  Although he perceived me as a refuge, I understood fully that my actions of entangling myself in his life had thrust him into this situation.  Although through some kind of twist of fate, the attack had been aimed at sending a threatening message to me, the attacker had used the wrong victim to relay his or possibly her missive—” And all that you cherish will be torn from your embrace as I embrace you in my darkness.”

My friend, Yagna, watched with concern and with curiosity as to why I had somehow bonded to this young man.  My kitchen had taken on a very quiet and somber mood.  Andrew’s cellphone angrily buzzed breaking the silence.  Andrew disengaged himself from me and snatched up his phone to read the incoming texts—–“Where r U?”  “R U safe, buddy?”  “PLEASE ANSWER, BUD.”

“It is Joe,” explained Andrew as he read the texts. Then my cell phone pinged.  As Andrew was texting a return message to Joe, I picked up my phone to read the incoming text—which was from Becca.  “R u home? Is Andrew with u?”  I typed a reply to Becca’s inquiry.  “Yes.  Why?” I sent a short message.  Obviously, the news of the horrific find at the riverfront was circulating among the campus.  In a small town, such an event would be hard to keep from being known.  My phone pinged with Becca’s reply.  “Coming over.  Need 2 talk.”

In the meantime, Andrew was hastily texting to his concerned friend. After just a few exchanges on his phone, Andrew looked up at me with surprised concern on his face.

“Joe is on his way here with Becca,” Andrew announced with cautious hesitation.  “It seems that everyone on campus has heard about Nick.  Becca and Joe thought it was me.”I looked at Yagna with great concern as I thought about what events had led me and this little group to this path.  

* * * *

Along a highway heading back toward Pensacola, Rolf grinned as he thought back to what events had led him to this path.  He was concentrating on the roadway but he continued to glance over at the boy named Charlie who was his payment for brutally delivering the warning to the vampire Victor Browning.  The ritualistic rape and murder of Victor’s young human companion was a pleasurable enough task and this sleeping young man beside him was a long awaited outcome.  Rolf recounted the evening when he first encountered Charlie.  

Most would not find Charlie unremarkable, but the boy’s appearance and demeanor plucked deep into Rolf’s dark twisted soul.  Charlie was of slim but muscular build; not to be considered a twink but also not across the threshold into pumped gym stud. His body was satisfactory, but it was Charlie’s face and his gentle brown eyes that has haunted Rolf since the evening he had discovered the boy among the participants at a midsummer debauchery in an abandoned warehouse in New Orleans. Those eyes were the focus of his gentle face framed with a slight beard and a shaggy mane of long brown hair

 which sealed Rolf’s obsession. The boy appeared to be the image who had filled Rolf”s fantasies from his painful adolescence many decades before this time and place. This boy was the remarkable manifestation of the young figure of Christ who had been the unforgivable object of Rolf’s early homoerotic desires. Those sane desires that would unfortunately deliver Rolf into the hands of a sadistic priest and finally one fateful night introduce him into his life as a vampire within the embrace of another equally twisted soul. Rolf both blamed and honored his obsession with his fantasy of Christ as his lover now twisted over the years into a desire to corrupt that saintly being into a heinous tool for sadistic pleasure.  At this moment, sleeping the deep sleep of the angels, was this boy who was manifest in the flesh of Rolf’s desire.  

Rolf’s memory replayed his first glimpse of Charlie. Having a taste for Indulging his sadistic lust and hunger, he had accepted an invitation to the exclusive secret gathering of vampires, demons, and other dark creatures. Rolf had arrived fashionably late to the appointed site of the event which had promised “unfettered activity for all to enjoy”.  These gatherings had always been not lacking in the delivery of predator and prey alike and adequately satisfied the tastes of those who chose to operate beyond the recent “domestication” of the vampires.  These events were a fantastic buffet of sex, sadistic pain, and death. Rolf always felt his darkest appetites fed at the end of the evening.

Rolf had been created at the entrance by a large black  bodybuilder as security and a young blond muscle cub who obviously was the official greeter who accepted Rolf’s digital invite and led him into the depths of the warehouse from which emanated the rather mandatory vibrations of Soundtrack of house music.  The cub was very sexy and as he followed him toward the sounds of the gathering, Rolf imagined what that lad’s muscled furry ass would feel like impaled upon his stirring cock and the taste of the fellow as he pierced his strong neck. The guide could feel the intense gaze of Rolf and turned to smile. Rolf decided that although tempting to drag this young fellow into the shadows of this warehouse, it would be in bad form.  The festivities ahead would be sure to offer for which he was lusting.  The blond cub led Rolf into the large room which was the source of the music and crowd sounds. Rolf cast his view around the crowded, dimly lit chamber.   Rolf recognized only a few of the participants in the chamber.  Dressed in very little, male and female vampires, demons, and few other supernatural creatures  circulated among the assortment of potential prey scattered about the room.  All sorts of sadistic devices were arranged around the room of which some were already in use.  Two male vampires were taking turns ravishing a big breasted woman with raven hair captured in a sling.  Two young men writhing in exquisite pleasure and pain hung from the walls as their cocks were being greedily sucked by a female succubus.  A howl was heard from a dark corner as furry muscular figure was fucking a big black man who was slamming deep into slender asian woman. 

All of this activity was purely background noise to Rolf’s heightened senses as his focus went to the tall hairy bear of a man who was lounging in a large throne-like chair.  Rolf had heard about this fellow’s reputation for throwing grand affairs at which the darkest appetites could be satisfied.   Ali is his name and had the unusual aspect of being a succubus vampire, a creature who feeds on prey not only from his fanged mouth but his equally voracious ass..  Ali was watching with interest, a female succubus pawing her way around a tall, young jock who appeared to have been lifted right from the floor of a local varsity basketball game. Oozing an overly confident attitude, his body was perfectly displayed in the nylon shorts and tank top down to his stylish, expensive basketball sneakers. The female was working the boy into a frenzy with her mouth and hands as Ali watched licking his lips.  Rolf turned his gaze to the young man seated on the floor next to the enthroned Ali. Rolf shuddered as his stare locked upon the lad who would later be identified as Charlie. Rolf watched as Charlie sat attentively next to his master.  A collar was around his neck and the chain was held tightly by Ali.  His eyes watched with knowing fear as his master prepared himself to move into the sensuous dance being conducted by the succubus and the cocky jock.  Ali stood pulling down his loose trousers.   His erection had sprouted full from his wiry bush.  

“Charlie, why don’t you demonstrate your latest skill to Cindy and her guest?” growled Ali looking down at the boy as if he was an obedient spaniel. Charlie leaned forward and stroked his master’s cock then set about to lick and suck on his balls and engorged tool.  The basketball jock looked on in amazement as Charlie hungrily went down on the groaning Ali.  Rolf snickered at the mention of the succubus’s name of Cindy.  What a ridiculously innocent name for such a dangerous creature.  Cindy giggled as she continued to fondle the unsuspecting jock.  Ali was huffing as Charlie expertly tongued his dripping dick.”What’s your name, buddy?” huffed Ali in between pleasured grunts eyeing Cindy’s latest boy toy.    “Jack,” answered the self sure jock.  ” I am Jack.”  The boy extended his hand like he was meeting a new coach or teammate.  Ali grinned as he took the boy’s extended hand ‘in a firm grip and looked him in the eye.  Ali then moved his hand along Jack’s arm pulling him a little closer.  Cindy was twirling her long tongue around Jack’s right nipple which she freed from his tank top. HIs breath was heavy.  Ali pulled his cock roughly from Charlie’s mouth and then pulled Jack’s hand down to his furry ass and then rubbing the jock’s fingers along the ass crack.  Ali’s eager ass pulled Jack’s middle finger into its tightness.  The jock’s face betrayed his thoughts about how hot and tight that hole was on his finger and what it might feel like on his cock.  Ali’s eyes met Cindy’s eyes and the succubus lessened her attention as she realized that this prey was destined for a higher predator than she. Ali leaned into the jock and whispered hoarsely in his ear–“So tell me, Jack, they say white boys can’t jump,” chuckled Ali. “But they can they fuck?”  With those words, Ali fully impaled himself upon Jack’s finger. Cindy had her hand into Jack’s basketball shorts working his rock solid dick yearning for release.  Charlie now was stroking the jock’s sneakers in admiration and massaging the muscled calves of Jack as he shook in lust.  Ali positioned himself on all fours, his ass exposed for the wildly aroused jock who eagerly jerked down his basketball shorts and shucked his tank top.  Ali grinned as he realized he had the boy exactly where he wanted the foolish, horny boy to be.  Charlie still stroked Jack’s sneakers as Jack positioned himself behind the tight ass that was so enticing. Cindy kissed him and stroked Jack’s cock guiding it into Ali’s anxiously hungry ass.  Jack groaned as he felt his thrust being pulled deep into the furry ass of the big man offering himself in such a submissive manner.  Jack started pumping into the older man’s ass and Ali met each thrust.  Rolf watched with amused interest as this boy had foolishly fallen into the trap which was Ali’s predatory ass.  The young jock was so excited that he could not hold back from feeding Ali his load.  With a triumphant howl, Jack let loose in Ali’s ass.  Ali continued to urge the boy to fuck him even after exploding deep. To Jack’s surprise his cock was still hard and demanding another release into Ali’s amazing ass.  Cindy giggled. The entire chamber seemed to cease its activity as all attention turned to Jack furiously fucking their host, Ali.   Within a dozen furious strokes later, Jack gave a deep groan as his eyes rolled back in his head and his dick released its second load.  Ali’s ass had secured the boy’s cock deep inside and at the moment the pleasure provided to Jack was too great for the confident jock to sense the truth of his situation.  Jack was panting as his ass thrust more into Ali in search of a third load.  The boy’s muscled body was starting to glisten with sweat. “Oh, fucking shit!” howled Jack as a third orgasm was pulled from him.  He realized that his cock was trapped in this man’s ass.  Before Jack could shout in alarm, Ali’s ass ripped a fourth load from his straining dick and balls. His legs shaking from the intensity.   “Here. Jack, let me help u,” hissed Ali as he shifted positions so that Ali was on top of the jock riding him like a stallion bucking not to be broken. Charlie had slid back to his previous position sitting next the throne waiting expectantly on his master’s next command.  Ali bounced up and down on the struggling jock under him who was grunting as a fifth load was being worked out of him. There seemed to be flurry of activity within the chamber as the participants aroused by the scene being played out in their midst.  Bets were quietly being placed as to how many total loads could be pulled from the unfortunate jock.  Seven?   Eight?  Ten?  Jack screamed as his body jerked under Ali as the fifth orgasm hit him.  Charlie reached over and stroked Jack’s sneakers and calf muscles sensually prepping him to produce a sixth load to feed Ali’s hungry ass.  Clamping hard on Jack’s throbbing dick, Ali roared openly exposing his fanged mouth.  Jack raised his arms to try to push Ali off him but his arms floundered and Ali grabbed Jack’s left wrist and brought it to his fanged mouth, licking and the wickedly sinking his fangs into Jack’s wrist.  Jack whimpered then screamed in pain as Ali ripped the sixth load from the boy.  All eyes were riveted to Ali and Jack. Seven! came a snarling call from those who had placed their bets accordingly.   Jack was pleading.  Ali still feeding from Jack’s wrist while his ass was consuming the jock.  Arrrrrrrrgh!! Jack jerked as the seventh load was pulled from him.  His breaths were gasping.  Ali lowered his face to Jack’s anguished countenance.  “Here, this will make u cum hard.”  Rolf’s fangs ached as he watched Ali grabbed Jack by the head exposing his neck.  With low growl Ali sunk his fangs into Jack’s neck.  The shock of the pain and pleasure of Ali’s bite pushing the doomed boy into an eighth orgasm.  The room roared as a frenzy was building within the chamber.  The smell of sex and blood pushing into wild chaos.  Jack surprisingly lay panting under Ali who drunk deep from his neck. His head lolling from side to side muttering…please..stop.  Charlie was still stroking the jock’s fancy sneakers  Ali still riding Jack nodded to Charlie who took a length of the chain that acted as his leash and positioned himself behind the weakly struggling Jack.  “Now for the best yet, boy.  The grand finale!”.  Charlie wrapped the chain around Jack’s neck slowly strangling him as Ali with a beastly roar drained the ninth and final orgasm from the jock.  The look on the Christ like countenance of Charlie awakened a dark desire in Rolf.  He must have that boy. As Jack’s body jerked simultaneously in his final orgasm his life leaving his body, The room exploded into a fury of sadistic sexual energy as the guests descended upon the assorted prey.  Rolf lost sight of Charlie and Ali in the whirling mass of rape and hunger.  Rolf was not completely unaffected by the wild spell of feeding and fucking. But his desire to find the object of his desire led him away from the melee.  Unsuccessful in locating Charlie and stumbling in a sexually charged stupor, Rolf collided in a dark hallway with the blond cub who had been his escort earlier that evening. “Sir, help me.” Stammered the frightened cub.  His scent was overwhelming and Rolf grabbed the cub by the throat and drug him into shadows.  The young man’s groans and screams joined the unholy chorus within the warehouse as Rolf enjoyed this consolation prize.   As he remembered his slow taking of the blond cub that evening, he licked his lips.  Rolf then glanced over at the sleeping Charlie and down his lean frame to Charlie’s feet which wore the fancy sneakers of the dead jock.

I first recall realising that I was gay when I was very young.  A few years earlier I had seen a picture of a very hairy guy in a pair of speedos and really identified with that image without knowing why. I remember that the guy had very dark hair all over his chest and arms and it formed wonderful patterns all across his chest and stomach. The combination of a guy with a hairy body and the minimal coverage that Speedos could offer was great and I wanted in! What was I going to do about it all though?  To begin with I was not in a position to do much.  Growing up gay in a small town in the north of the UK in the 1970s was a tough experience.  I simply put my head down and tried to got on with life.  However, there was this image of the hairy guy in Speedos in my mind and he would not go away and sooner or later I was going to have to do something about it.    

By the time that I was 16 I had decided that I simply must to go and find some Speedos and who knows what would happen as a result. Back then the only option was to go to my local sports shop.  One afternoon I did this and started to look at the rack of Speedos that were on display only after walking round the block quite a few times to make sure that there was no-one else in the shop.  There never seemed to be a good time though and I eventually plucked up the courage to go in.  My heart was pounding and I was sure that everyone around me could see that I was not looking at Speedos to go swimming in! I picked out a small black pair and nervously asked if I could try them on. The guy behind the counter just nodded towards a cubicle in the corner. I went in and got undressed and tried them on. They fitted like a glove and I suddenly felt myself getting very hard and a bit wet as a result of feeling the material against my cock and balls.  I couldn’t believe that I was actually seeing myself in those tight fitting, small trunks that I had been fantasising about for years. By this time I had started to grow hair on my body and the Speedos suddenly left something to the imagination!  I could see my cock,  balls, pubes and a little bit of the hair on my stomach suddenly disappear as I pulled the Speedos up.  Suddenly I could also see a little bit  of hair peep out of the sides as my balls adjusted to their new home.  I hoped that one day someone else would see this and want to explore what the trunks were covering up.  It felt amazing and I SO wished that someone would come in and ask me if I needed any help with them or explore what lay beneath them. Of course, nothing quite so wonderful happened. It was several years before this actually happened to me.  Instead I eventually took them off and took them to buy them using my carefully saved up money.

I rushed home and went into the bathroom. I put them back on once more and got harder than I had ever been instantly. Like every teenage boy I had masturbated but the results had never been that great as there was a crucial element missing in the form of a pair of Speedos and a very specific fantasy.  I knew that my Speedo hairy hunk would be kneeling down in front of me and he would start to rub my cock and lick all over the front of my trunks.  I would then return the favour and finally feel his rock hard cock through the Speedos as I took it in my mouth.  I would also swallow his balls through the flimsy material until he squirted his load all over his hairy chest.   He would then allow me to cum over his hairy chest and my cum would be mixed up with his all over his hairy chest.  I would then lick it all clean whilst creating some new patterns in his hair with my tongue and cum.   

This time was different though and I I didn’t need to do anything as my cock just kept on growing and growing and started to twitch and move on its own. This was something new and very exciting and my head was just exploding with images of the hairy hunk in Speedos that I had seen a few years before and what he might do to me now that I had a pair on. My cock was immediately over the top of the Speedos and I had to untie the drawstring to allow it to continue to grow.   My balls were now aching as they suddenly felt full of cum demanding to be released.  I felt different as if something was about to happen that I had waited a long time for. Without thinking my instincts kicked in and my hand started to move up and down my now painfully hard cock.  I could feel my balls tighten and I knew that something amazing was about to happen.  Suddenly cum exploded out of my cock and I almost doubled over with the intensity of the feeling.   I was standing up and the cum immediately covered my hand and the Speedos and then hit the wall which was quite a long way away. It was running down my legs and creating patterns in my pubes and leg hair as it trickled down.  The black speedos were now more white than black.  The cum went everywhere and it was truly a life changing experience. I loved the look of my own cum and was soon scooping it up and licking it off my fingers as it tasted amazing.   

After that I loved to wank wearing my black Speedos. The Speedos quickly turned a different colour and developed a different texture as I found out that I loved to cum in them and then not bother washing them afterwards. I loved the feel of them covered with dried cum and the smell was amazing. By this time I had already started to grow hair on my arms and legs and my chest was starting to turn hairy too.  I suddenly realised that it wouldn’t be too long before I would turn  into the very image of the hairy guy wearing Speedos that I had first seen a few a years before.

I am a still a hairy guy who loves Speedos and I love wearing them when I am having fun with other guys or just with myself. If the Speedos are covered in cum then even better. The chest hair might have turned white and I am a lot more bear like than I was back then but at heart I am still the young kid who got his first real orgasm wearing his first pair of Speedos!

Temptations

The rhythmic clanking of weights and deep exhales filled Iron Grip Gym. The establishment was a nexus for the city’s elite bodybuilders, and that evening, the atmosphere was even more electric.

Derek Stone, 48, radiated power. He towered at 6’4″, with a frame that was a testament to years of dedication. His chest was an expansive carpet of thick dark hair that snaked down to a V-line, hinting at the impressive manhood below. Every muscle was accentuated, moving with a raw sensuality that drew eyes from every corner. “Boys,” he rumbled to his sons, Liam, 20, and Ethan, 18, “today’s the day we push beyond.”

Liam smirked, flexing his biceps. At 6’2″, he was a sight. Waves of dark brown hair fell carelessly over his forehead, framing piercing blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. His chest, less dense with hair than his father’s, was a canvas of sculpted perfection. Below the waist, his manhood promised growth and power, much like his father’s.

Ethan, the youngest, stretched his lithe, swimmer-like body. At 6’2″, his physique was slender, yet toned. His lighter hair and almost boyish face were in sharp contrast to the maturing manhood that hung between his thighs, hinting at his entry into manhood.

As the trio began their regimen, a voice boomed, breaking the rhythm. “Derek? Didn’t expect to see you here.” Jason, 49, stood across the room, all 6’3″ of him, a pure embodiment of rugged masculinity. His hair, raven-black, contrasted sharply with his virile, hairy chest. His eyes, a piercing green, locked onto Derek’s, and the atmosphere thickened. A hint of a bulge was evident through his gym shorts, matching Derek’s in size and promise.

Their shared history was evident in the palpable tension. Their rivalry, filled with unspoken desires and memories, was well-known. Their paths had crossed multiple times in college, each encounter leaving an indelible mark.

Derek, trying to maintain his stoicism, replied, “Jason. Here to show off or actually work out?”

The banter was sharp, but beneath it lay a deeper, rawer energy. As they worked out, muscles bulging, sweat dripping, and testosterone filling the room, that energy only grew. The gym echoed with whispered conversations as others tried to decipher the palpable tension.

The post-workout shower was where everything escalated. The communal area was filled with steam, tiles glistening with water. As Derek stepped under a stream, Jason’s voice echoed, teasing and probing. “Remember our college days, Derek? Your dad wasn’t always this big tough boys.”

Derek’s heart raced. Memories of secret glances and heated moments flooded back. He felt exposed, his arousal growing despite his best efforts to control it. The mingling of embarrassment and desire was potent. His towel did little to hide the evidence, and he could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy with intent.

Liam, ever the provocateur, joined in the teasing. “Really, Dad? You let this guy get the best of you?”

Ethan, grinning, added, “I always knew there was a softer side to you.”

The banter continued, growing more graphic and scandalous. Comparisons of ruggedness, hairiness, and even size were discussed openly. And as Derek tried to navigate this minefield of emotions, he realized the pull he felt towards Jason was as strong as ever.

The chapter was ending, but the story was only just beginning, filled with promises of passion, rivalries, and uncharted territories.

For Anthony, the trip back home represented the worst part of his day. After long hours of exhausting work, fate forced him to face a crowded bus full of passengers. Standing during the journey had become an inevitable routine for him. Fatigue settled into his body, and the mass of tightly packed people seemed to carry him in a constant flow of strangers.

The return trip lasted for about an hour. After forty minutes of travel, most of the passengers had already disembarked. However, all the seats remained occupied, though Anthony was grateful not to endure the typical overcrowding. Occasionally, he would close his eyes to rest his eyesight, although his feet still found no relaxation. There was a brief moment when he let himself be carried away by a one-second nap, but fortunately, he woke up before tumbling to the floor. He decided to keep his eyes wide open, ensuring to avoid any possible mishaps.

His gaze began to explore the interior of the bus. He observed people sleeping with their mouths wide open, couples engaged in passionate kisses, and friends having lively conversations. However, his attention immediately stopped when he came across the most impressive butt he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. The owner of such an attribute was standing less than a meter away, dressed in sportswear: a polo shirt, shorts, and sneakers. It was clear that he had just finished a soccer match, as indicated by the dry sweat on his face and the dirt covering his outfit.

Anthony stared at that butt for too long, which made the owner of that magnificent attribute aware. He looked directly at Anthony, who, feeling surprised, quickly averted his gaze in embarrassment.

The bus made a stop at the antepenultimate stop, and an additional group of passengers disembarked, freeing up several seats. Anthony quickly settled into one by the window, silently hoping that the owner of those captivating butt had also left. The shame he felt was overwhelming, so he pretended to be asleep, hoping to avoid any eye contact with that individual, just in case he was still on the bus.

After a while, Anthony felt someone taking the seat next to his, and immediately he felt that person’s touch on his leg. In amazement, he glanced sideways and realized it was the same young man with the amazing butt. Among all the unoccupied seats, he had chosen to sit right next to Anthony and began to touch his leg. Anthony thought it was too good to be true.

It was clear that this young man was interested in him. Anthony responded to the touch with another touch, and instantly, they exchanged knowing glances.

The bus stopped at the penultimate stop, and this time, unlike the previous stop, Anthony fervently hoped that his seat companion would not get off there. The young man stayed by his side, and the vehicle continued its journey. Anthony wanted to start a conversation, introduce himself, inquire about his name, and above all, give in to the passion he felt, but he couldn’t. An elderly woman occupied the seat behind them, so he had to wait until they reached the last stop to have a conversation on the street. Meanwhile, they continued to play suggestively. The touches persisted, not only with their legs but also with their hands, further fueling their excitement.

Finally, they arrived at the last stop. As they got up, both made an effort to hide their erections, although it was more challenging for the young man with the prominent butt, as he was wearing sport shorts. Fortunately, the few remaining passengers were more concerned with getting off the bus and returning to their homes, so they paid no attention to the young man’s excitement. Anthony and the guy with the remarkable butt walked in silence for a short distance, side by side, until they got away from the rest of the passengers.

Anthony: Hello.

Guy with the impressive butt: Hi.

Anthony: What’s your name?

Guy with the impressive butt: Peter.

Anthony: Nice to meet you, Peter. My name is Anthony.

Peter: Likewise.

Anthony: How old are you, Peter?

Peter: I’m 20 years old. And you?

Anthony: I’m 27 years old. Did you come from playing soccer?

Peter: Yes, I had a championship with my college friends today.

Anthony: Really? What are you studying?

Peter: Systems Engineering.

Anthony: Interesting. I studied management. By the way, do you live nearby?

Peter: Well, my stop is actually the penultimate, but when I saw that you weren’t getting off, I decided to continue the journey with you. I wanted to get to know you.

Anthony: And me, too. I was praying that you wouldn’t get off until the final stop.

Peter: Haha… Well, I didn’t, and here you have me.

Anthony: You know? I thought you were annoyed when you realized I was staring at your butt.

Peter: Haha… No, I felt flattered instead when I saw the silly look on your face.

Anthony: Haha… But you have to admit, you have a great butt. And as you say, I was totally dumbstruck when I saw it.

Peter: Yeah, I know. My friends tease me about it in college. And I think one of them has a special interest, but I prefer not to get involved with people from college to avoid problems.

Anthony: That’s understandable. Well, I like to be direct, and since it seems like we mutually like each other, how about we head to a quieter place?

Peter: To a hotel?

Anthony: I know one nearby.

Peter: Then let’s go.

Once inside the hotel room, Anthony couldn’t contain himself.

He pushed Peter against the wall to kiss him, paying no attention to his request to let him take a shower first. He told him that he was excited by his sweaty scent while he kissed him.

His playful tongue explored Peter’s mouth with passion, his hands firmly grasped Peter’s butt that rose above the shorts. Despite Anthony’s hands being of good size, they didn’t seem large enough for that impressive butt. Then, he knelt down and made Peter turn around, sliding down his shorts to reveal that impressive butt.

It was undoubtedly a wonderful butt: round and completely smooth. Anthony parted Peter’s butt and buried his face eagerly. The warm breath on that spot made Peter moan, and Anthony’s undulating tongue made him moan even more. Occasionally, he would stop licking to nibble on his butt. Anthony seemed determined to savor every inch of that butt.

Peter was clearly aroused and eager for the next stage. He didn’t have to ask more than once. Anthony put on a condom he had bought at the hostel reception and penetrated Peter without hesitation. This was exactly what Peter liked, and Anthony was more than willing to fulfill his desires. As he thrust with intensity in a doggy-style position, he pulled Peter’s hair with one hand and delivered strong spanks with the other.

About 50 minutes passed, with sweaty bodies, and Anthony was still inside Peter, on the brink of climax. Between gasps, Anthony asked Peter where he wanted his release. Peter said he wanted it on his face. Anthony quickly removed the condom and aimed it at Peter’s face, covering it with a thick layer of semen, bringing an end to a dirty, perverted, and highly pleasurable sexual encounter.

After that experience, Anthony and Peter never crossed paths on public transportation again, but for Anthony, the journey back home was no longer the worst part of his day. From then on, finding a partner to take the trip to a hotel, like he did with Peter, became his favorite pastime.

Epilogue

Hello there everyone, Sam the author here.  If you’re reading this, I can only assume you enjoyed the story.  I’m glad.

I love mystery novels, especially those from the golden age back in the 1930s to the 1950s.  Some of my favorites are Raymond Chandler and his Philip Marlow mysteries, Dorothy Sayers and her Peter Wimsey mysteries, and Dashiell Hammett and his various heroes / anti-heroes.

When I set out to write the book that became ‘Wasted Life’ my first task was to figure out who my main character would be.  I didn’t want to simply copy one of the classic detectives and make him gay.  I wanted a man with nuance, with depth.  I wanted a hard-boiled man.  Someone for whom life had lost its luster.  Someone who’d been living in the sordid world of crime for a large portion of his life.

The next question I had to answer was the era to set the story.  I am a big fan of early 20th century American history.  I am fascinated by the World War II era.  The rule of ‘write what you know’ is a good one.  As such, I set the story in 1944.

Once I had a middle-aged man in 1944, much of what would become Law Edwards fell into place.  Creating him as a battle-scared veteran of what was at the time known as ‘The Great War’ was a logical step.  It gave him a built-in backstory, one full of senseless violence and tragic loss.

As I understand the aftermath of the conflict that would eventually be known as WWI, it was the first war that dashed the promise of the valor of battle.  The meatgrinder of mechanized warfare and the deprivation of life in the trenches swallowed up hopeful youth and spit back hardened men for whom Victorian morality no longer held sway.  They were confused and embittered by the carnage they’d witnessed and participated in.

Law Edwards is the poster child of these veterans.  On top of his shattered sense of morality, we add the savage wound of being rejected by his father and his family and by society at large.  To have him invalided out of the army and taken up by a big city police force seems darkly comical, especially at the height of the roaring twenties and the lax morality of the Prohibition era.

What does Law do during this period?  He wallows in it like a hog in warm mud.  Indeed, why shouldn’t he?  The cliché of ‘eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die’ seems an appropriate phrase for this period in both national history and in Law’s personal history.  The perverse carnival of Madam Mitchell’s saloon and brothel is the perfect setting for him to celebrate his fantasies.  The fact that the Madam calls him her ‘Hero of Law and Order’ is just so much corrupt icing on the cake.

And what happens?  Like all drunken orgies, the party eventually must end.  The thirties came and with them The Great Depression.  From there Law experienced a long slide into poverty and anonymity.  His brief sense of belonging and eventually his every pleasure is slowly taken from him by the crushing march of time.  Even his livelihood becomes impossible for him to maintain.  This is where we meet our protagonist as he chomps on a stale cigar and screeches the unlubricated works of his swivel chair while he growls at young Bea Arlott.

What happened after that, you well know, or you wouldn’t be here.

A man with nothing to lose is a very compelling character for me.  That man can be anything.  He can do anything.  He is completely free of all responsibilities and obligations.  He is especially compelling if he has given up on his life because no action would be too drastic for him.

The other beauty of a character in this position is that often, because he’s so downtrodden, any step he takes is a step up.  He is also in the perfect position to learn and to grow and to evolve because he can no longer remain static.  Law Edwards, unlike many of the classic detective characters, is dynamic.  He isn’t the same man at the end of the story as he was at the beginning.

That is what makes ‘Wasted Life’ different from many of the other books I mentioned, the fact that Law grew as a person.  This story is his redemption, his return to the human race, his Pinocchio transformation from a static archetype into a real ‘boy.’

That, dear reader, is the point.

So, the question for me to answer is, ‘now what?’  Well, I’m working on a sequel.  I think there is more story to tell.  Because Law is a dynamic character, he cannot go on and on and on like Philip Marlow could, because at some point the transformation is complete.  Once a caterpillar is a butterfly, the story is over.  That said, our friend Law still has a way to go, and perhaps, so do the people around him.  There’s at least enough there for one more story, perhaps two.

In the meantime, dear reader, I hope you enjoyed our time together.  Before I sign off, I would be remiss if I did not issue a couple of thank yous.  The first is to Earth-Boy.  Earth-Boy is someone I met on Nifty who read my work and offered insightful comments that helped me as a writer.  Earth-Boy taught me brevity.

The next thank you is to Jeremy.  Jeremy is another person I met on Nifty.  Jeremy taught me to let the setting of the story take shape around the main character instead of making him report on every new setting he steps into before the action starts.  His advice allowed my writing to reach a new plateau.

Beyond those special thank yous are the massive thank you I would like to say to all the people who read and enjoyed this work.  To all those silent readers who added to the GayDemon reader count, thank you.  To all those who read on Nifty, thank you.  I appreciate that you spent your precious time with me.  To those who emailed and commented, THANK YOU!

Like everyone, I love to be appreciated, but even more than that, I love nuanced comments.  I love when people guess at the next step in the story, or tell a story of their own experience that parallels that of the characters, or express an emotion that the writing brought about within them.  Those comments illustrate engagement and that tells me I’m producing good material.  That is the most important thing to me.  So once again, THANK YOU ALL!

Until next time,

Yours very sincerely,

Sam Stefanik

After leaving school at Easter I got a job in the local electrical showroom. I had to work Saturdays but I got Wednesday off. It was on one of these Wednesdays that I bumped into an old school mate. Greg was coming out of the public toilets just as I was going in.

I must admit I wasn’t going in for a slash, I just wanted to read the stories on the walls and have a wank. When Greg saw me he began teasing me about hanging around toilets. I pointed out that he’d just come out of one. He laughed and said that’s where he kept his stash of wank mags. Of course I was curious so he took me back inside to show me where they were hidden.

He reached behind the cistern and pulled out two copies of Whitehouse Magazine. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw them. They were new magazines that had just come out. I’d never seen them before but I knew they contained some daring photos, including men with erections. I quickly thumbed through one of the magazines, sure enough there was a guy in there with a massive cock. Looking at it gave me butterflies in my stomach and a stirring in my loins. 

Greg asked if my mum was at home and I told him she didn’t get back from work until 6pm. So we walked through the park back to my house.

Back at home I sat on the chair and Greg on the sofa. We both got our cocks out but I couldn’t believe it when I saw the size of Greg’s. It was like a man’s cock so much bigger and fatter than mine. I still had a boys cock but Greg had a man’s cock and I told him so. Greg smiled and tapped the cushion and invited me for a closer look. I blushed but still moved over to sit next to him.

“Wanna have a feel”, he asked.

I did but I didn’t want to make myself out to be gay, not that we used that word in those days, so I declined.

“Come on”, he said, “Don’t be shy”.

I told him that I wasn’t a like that. He replied of course not, we’re both into the girls you and I but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little feel.

He could see I was reluctant but he grabbed my hand and placed it between his legs.

I gingerly rubbed his cock and then wrapped my fingers around it. It felt so thick and powerful, soft but as hard as a rod of iron. His knob was just peaking out from under his foreskin. I pulled it back a little and a bead of precum ran down his shaft. It felt wonderful in my hand and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“Suck it”

“What”? I exclaimed.

“Suck it, go on”

I told him I wasn’t a queer, he laughed.

“Do you fancy me”, he asked.

“Of course not”, I replied.

“Do you want to kiss me”?

“The thought makes me feel sick”

“Well there you are then, you’re not queer, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give it a little suck”.

“No”, I replied.

“Just kiss it then, just a quick peck”

“Fucking hell, no, no” I replied.

“I’ll give you a fiver”, he laughed

Five quid was a lot of money back in those days. I was only picking up £7.50 for working a whole week. I asked him where he got five quid but he wouldn’t tell me.

He got out his wallet and gave me this tatty old fiver. I went to take it and he pulled it away. He laughed and said if I take it then I’ll have to suck his cock.

I took it from him and reminded him it didn’t make me a queer.

He lifted his arm up and I rested my head on his stomach. I began slowly wanking his cock, watching his precum bead.

He pushed my head down into his crutch. I planted a kiss right on his glistening knob. Then I swirled my tongue around his knob and foreskin. Not only could I smell his masculinity and I could taste it too. It was very exciting, I could feel myself trembling. I couldn’t help but think this was better than being with a girl. Slowly I took his hard cock into my warm mouth .His skin was soft against my lips yet the shaft was so hard. His knob was the texture of glass against my tongue. I began sucking him deeper into my mouth, it felt so good and I began to enjoy myself.

“Fuck Stuart, you’re a fucking natural”

I smiled, my girlfriend was always complaining about my lack of prowess so it was nice to get a compliment.

Greg pushed my head further down on his cock until I started to gag. It was not something I’d experienced before but I liked the feeling of my mouth being full. I bobbed up and down on his cock until I could feel it down the back of my throat.

“I think I’m going to cum”

I heard the words but didn’t stop sucking. Then he exploded, flooding my mouth with cum. It was thick and the taste intense, far stronger than I imagined. I swallowed hard but even so there was so much it just oozed out the side of my mouth. It was all dribbling down his cock and I licked it up like ice cream.

“Fuck you’re good”

I couldn’t help but smile at last I was being praised for doing something well.

My face was as red as a beetroot, I couldn’t help but blush. I made eye contact with Greg and he smiled.

“This is our secret right”, I said intently.

“Sure”, he replied, “I’m not telling anyone”.

We carried on meeting every Wednesday. I began to crave the taste of his spunk like a smoker craves a cigarette. Then one Wednesday afternoon Greg turned up with an old man.

Greg came to the door and the man waited at the front gate.

“Who the fucks that”, I asked.

Greg replied, “I don’t know his name but he’ll give us a fiver each if we suck him off”.

I was livid, “How does he even know that and why have you bought him to my parents house”?

Greg said that people were staring and one of the neighbours was looking so I reluctantly invited Greg and his friend inside.

To be continued…

So this is the fourth installment. Enjoy it and the black muscle sluts email me, for your ownership for as you know you are born to serve and enslave. 

---

Sullivan had gone to a conference so I had a lot of free time. Stupefied in my office the memories of last night were running like a film. I was as drunk as skunk last evening because for the first time I felt a strong fear to loose my job and I drank and drank until I lost my control which is by far the greatest weakness of mine. I could not even remember if I disclosed anything in that embarrassing state to that prick Wikling or not. “Fuck fuck!” I slammed my hand heavily on the office table and stood up with a thunderous roar.

“Fuck you Wikling”, I grabbed hold on my chair and ingrained my fingers in its soft back support in anger. Dom didn’t notice but he was calling Wikling by his correct name.

“How could I become a hamstring?”, The stature that I carry in the office and in real life, no one would even think of doing that to me. Then how did he dare to even try that on me? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I hate these white people. Selfish and destroyers. Dom could remember how was his life tarnished by these white men and he had to struggle hard to survive in this world ruled by white people. He smoked a cigarette and inhaled a puff exhaling it out through office window that fleeted in the air over the busy world.

Dom belonged to a persecuted, parochial black family, his father was a hostile man who would always beat him and his mom. He was 14 when his mother died and he ran away escaping the torture his father would enact on him. He roamed in the streets for several days, begged to the vendors to give him some food, also did some trivial jobs to earn a livelihood. Life was a labyrinth to him where he was lost in twisted harsh realities. He surfaced in white dominating society where his worth was no less than an ant. He was humiliated and spitted on by white men and women alike. None cared about him and all this was nurturing a strong and intense hatred towards the white race.

One usual day as he was picking up something from trash bin, a tall, good looking, white old man crossed his path. He stopped for a moment walking furlong and turned back to him.

“Hey “, he took over this hat and hollered at him. Young Dom looked at the stranger who was dressed in a nice suit. He was tall may be in his early fifties. Dom looked around to confirm if he was called on.

“Yes I’m talking to you kid”, the man confirmed. Dom walked towards him.

“Yes mister”, the innocent soul said.

“What’s your name?”, The stranger stooped down a bit to match his height.

“Dom…Dominic”, young Dom said with confidence. Dom was not a typical foolish little boy. He had learnt life in the worst ways possible.

“Such a confidence in your eyes”, the man smiled and rubbed his head.

“Wanna come with me?”, Man asked.

“Why would you say that?”, Dom asked.

“Why would I ask you? Hmmm…the answer is very simple. You see looking at you reminds me of my own son who I lost in an accident recently”, He looked sad explaining all this to young Dom.

“Oh, I’m sorry mister”, he felt sorry for the stranger.

“Oh..don’t be. If you come with me I promise I would take great care of you and will get you admitted to a nice school where you ll make friends of your age.”, The stranger’s proposal was not that bad but Dom had his doubts that why would a total stranger out of nowhere come to help him.

“You seem confused and you must be. Take this….”, The man gave his card to Dom.

“This is my card and if you ever need my help just gimme a call ….and here….have some money as well”, the stranger gave him few dollars that were a lot for young Dom.

“No I can’t take ’em”, Dom was baffled on all this situation. He was given money that was enough to buy him a healthy meal for few days. In heart he actually wanted that. The stranger forced him to take that money and Dom had no other option left. The stranger set his hat on his head and bade him bye. It has been six months since he left his home and it was the first time he felt so much happy.

That evening he had an amazing dinner and everyone looked startled at the young black boy who ordered a hefty meal and was eating in his old, torn clothes. Dom didn’t care about those fools and was enjoying the scene. As he was paying for the meal he looked around in scorn and left the place with a grin. Dom located a random place to sleep. Dom didn’t notice but a man was following him.

It would be about 3 am when Dom was woken up by a loud smack on his butt.

“What the—“, Dom woke up bewildered. He saw a huge white man standing right in front of him whose eyes seemed to ignite fire. Dom felt his heart skipped a beat when that large man promulgated towards him reaching for his shoulder. Dom tried to escape but there was so little space that he struck a wall behind.

“What do you want?” Young Dom moved his hands around to fetch something but his bad luck there was nothing. The man was ogling over his small body. He bent and sniffed him. Dom punched him at his face that was as useless as hitting a stone wall with marshmallow. The man rubbed his face and Dom found an opportunity and tried to make his move and run away but the man grabbed him by leg and slid him towards himself.

“You can’t go nowhere boy?”, The man sniffed him again then looked around. There was no one and it was dark. As Dom gaped his mouth to shout, the man’s large hand lowered down his voice. He put his one hand over his mouth and with other hand grabbed Dom’s both hands. He took him down and rested his knee over his both arms to restrain his body in the place. Young Dom felt the pain but could do nothing. He was not strong, huge and muscular like he was now. The stranger pulled his pants down and exposed his ass. Cool breeze hit his bare ass and Dom understood what was gonna happen to him next. Dom wriggled and struggled to escape but in vain. And then it happened which left a lasting impression on Dom’s mind. The man used him and left him there. Dom was in a shock what happened to him. It was weird. He stood up and the next thing he did was arriving at a nearest payphone and dialed the number on the card that old man gave him. That evening old man came and took him. He took a great care of Dom but couldn’t clear the hatred for white men from his persona. Even in the school, which mostly consisted of white children, he was discriminated by his teachers and fellow white students. All this hatred and grudge just made him the way he is now. All that aside but Stanley was the only white man in his life who he respected the most.

After that old man died, his sister came and took over the heritage and kicked Dom out of the house. By then he was old enough to live on his own plus he also got the scholarship as he was an earnest student. He completed his degree. He already had joined a gym and he was handsome as well so it was easy for him to pick up “white dudes” who would bow down before his huge black cock and he would release all his bad past memories by fucking white men in the ass, never receiving himself any dick. He acquired the status of the Alpha fucker of white men. This is how “Dom the Alpha” came into being.

Dom took a deep puff of the cigarette resting his muscular arms over the window’s edge. Thinking about his past life never gave him good memories. He is known by the name “The Alpha”. His inner dominant top instincts were hit badly. In a whimsical manner he began thinking about the first time he was fucked. It just felt like yesterday to him when that huge white man fucked him and there was no guilty feelings in him or perhaps he was denying it all along. He has weird mix of feelings. He didn’t like it but he also didn’t hate it. It was raw and so weird at the same time that Dom didn’t realise at that moment but he had a very slight idea that why getting fucked by Wikling stimulated the memories of his first time getting fucked.

“Is Wikling right?”, Dom took a puff and asked himself.

“Do I really like being a—–what the fuck?”, Dom threw the cigarette in the bin and took hold of his head.

“What the fuck I am thinking…..Dom you are a dom top fucker….you don’t receive fuck….you give them”, the memories of being fucked hit his mind again and he felt he would go mad.

“Ahhhhhh”, Dom shouted louder.

“Fuck you Wikling”, Dom shouted again. His dominant stature was shattering. He had to regain his pride back before it is too late.

“So are you ready Sir?”, Wikling entered the room without even knocking.

“Have you lost your manners Wikling?”, Dom who was still in the mode growled at him by his correct name instead of calling by the usual “weakling”. Even Wikling also noticed that but not Dom.

“Woh! I’m really sorry. Has anything happened to you sir?” He asked surprisingly.

“Don’t act like you know nothing?”, Dom said and stood up in anger inhaling the air his shirt fitting his chest tightly.

“Are you still stuck in last night?”, Wikling’s change of attitude was new to Dom but he ignored that.

“You just…..”, Dom paused

“Fucked you..”, and Wikling completed his sentence chuckling.

“You asshole”, Dom lifted the light weighed Wikling from the ground and slammed him by the wall.

“This is the reason….your insolent attitude….that’s why I went overboard previous night Dom”, Wikling’s heart raced high.

“Put me down”, he looked quite worried.

“How did you do that motherfucker?”, Dom asked pressing his fists into his chest.

“It hurts Dom. Put me down”, Wikling couldn’t stand any more.

“It is Sir Dom for you prick”, Dom roared. Wikling knew he had to comply to his superior and he did.

“Ok I’m sorry….please put me down sir”, his request put a smile on Dom’s face but he was not done with him yet.

“You—-“,

“What are you doing Dominic?”, Dom heard a familiar voice and slowly left Wikling. He turned back and saw Sullivan who slammed the file on the table.

“When did he come?”, Dom thought.

“What the hell are ya doing Dominic?”, He went straight to Wikling who was breathless. Dom ignored him completely.

“Listen me you big guy. I spared you last time but not now.”, Sullivan gave his warning that made Dom worry a bit. He didn’t give it a thought that his job might again be at stake. He clenched his teeth and looked at Wikling who seemed quite upset at all this.

“Boss it was not Sir Dominic’s fault. Actually he is quite upset at what happened before so I added more to his anger unintentionally”, Wikling made an excuse.

“But this is no way of treating your colleagues. If it were not this stupid project and you both were not going I would definitely take serious action against you Mr. Dominic.”, Sullivan looked in Dom’s eyes showing him a reality check. Dom turned his face away.

“This is the file and I want both of you to prepare it by tomorrow and gimme a demo. Your flights to Alaska have been confirmed and you both are going by tomorrow night”, Dom quickly looked at Sullivan in shock. He would rather die than to go with this jerk but Wikling seems ok with it.

“Come to my office Wikling, I have something to discuss”, Sullivan left the office.

“I ll see you later prick”, Dom whispered to Wikling that made him a bit distressed.

“Listen Wikling. I’m sending you along as to overview everything. Dom is a competent man but there is one flaw in him that is his over confidence. He sometimes go beyond the context and there is when he messes up the things. So I’m sending you to handle such situation. Do you understand?”, Sullivan put forth his concerns. The reputation of his company was on the stake.

“Yes boss. I understood. You can count on me.”, Wikling smiled and assured Sullivan but he was also concerned about Dom’s planning. What will he do with him?

“That’s more like it Wikling. You can leave now and prepare the presentation.”, Sullivan ended the meeting.

“Yes boss I ll do my best”, Wikling left the room and came to his department.

“What happened?”, John looked at the upset Wikling.

“Man I’m concerned about the conference. I have to go with Dom and you know how he behaves with all of us.”, Wikling shared his thoughts.

“I’m really thankful that I’m not going with that barbarian. He is your headache”, John teased him.

“You are one bastard fellow”, Wikling tried to relief the moment. He doesn’t want to think about Dom but he neither can just leave that matter. He had to negotiate with Dom first.

“Let’s go somewhere to eat”, John suggested. “Sounds good”, Wikling agreed and both went to a near restaurant to grab a bite. John was a nice looking straight guy and has a girlfriend named Hannah. Both looked good together and Wikling would always applaud John for his taste. They even went on a date on weekend and John was giving him the details.

“Boss can I talk to you?”, Wikling knocked at the door and asked Dom who was busy in editing files. He looked up, cringed and let him in. Wikling looked around trying to figure out how to initiate the conversation as he didn’t want to ruin his trip to Alaska. He grabbed the chair and sat in making himself comfortable.

“Now spit it up weakling”, Dom said in his usual rude tone and Wikling was but sad that he didn’t call him by his correct name. Dom didn’t learn his lesson at all.

“I was thinking boss….that…can we keep aside our issue and focus more on the conference. Mr. Sullivan has hopes from us and I don’t want….”,

“So you think that I’m gonna break his all expectations that I’m not interested in this project?”, Dom cut him out.

“No….I..I didn’t mean to say that…”, Wikling was baffled. Dom always takes him out of context.

“Cut the crap….you are trynna say same..don’t ya?”, Again the insolent personality of Dom was pervading. Wikling kept quiet trying to come up with suitable words but Dom’s constant bullying didn’t let him.

“Will you shut the fuck up for few minutes?”, At last lava exploded. Wikling stood up and shouted at him. Dom was dumbstruck that what happened. Wikling was looking directly into his eyes. Dom couldn’t say anything for few seconds. Nobody did ever make him shut like this. How did Wikling dare to do that? Both were looking at each other with a constant gaze when Dom’s face flushed with anger and as he tried to hit Wikling back he was again cut by Wikling’s words.

“I’m sorry boss and I really am. My sincere apologies as I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you won’t listen. This is your main problem that you don’t let anyone speak and continue your ridiculous blabbering. Where was I? Yes, I was saying…that I know you are as concerned as I am about this project that’s why I wanna put both of our energies in this project. With your verbal skills and my analysis we can nail this conference. So what did you say?”, Wikling was smiling and expecting Dom to give a reasonable answer to his appreciating words. But Dom was Dom.

“How dare you talk to your boss like that weakling?”, Dom stood from his chair as well and shouted louder. Even John who was outside could hear him screaming.

“Please boss calm down….”, Wikling tried his best to tame this beast but lion was out of his cage and ready to roar.

“Nobody talks to me like this prick. You are one filthy cunt you hear me. One asshole that no one asked for. You are a scum”, Dom continued his bullying and humiliating. This time he was crossing his limit.

“Get outta here you motherfucker”, Wikling was really hurt. He never expected Dom to utter such filth for him. He actually gave him the respect of his senior and superior but he lost all his respect for him. He was a sensitive man and couldn’t hide his gloomy expressions. He looked up momentarily to see Dom who noticed his eyes shining with tears and for a moment he felt bad for Wikling who shut the door behind him and left his office in dismay.

“Fuck!”, Dom cursed. Was he really feeling bad for Wikling? His eyes almost filled with tears were revolving in front of him. “I also used to face such bullying in school and college maybe that’s why I am feeling for him”, He tried to satisfy himself. “Which means I really feel bad for him. For Wikling?…..hell no. That fag deserves that”, Dom thought he had provided good reasons to prove his bullying but he couldn’t concentrate on his work. Those water filled eyes were constantly distracting him. He was getting mad now.

“What the fuck!”, Dom thrashed the files on the table. Then he rearranged them back, grabbed his coat and locked his office. As he passed through the corridor he didn’t find either John or Wikling there. Again a feeling if embarrassment and guilt hit him. Dom sat in his car and drive to home.

“What’s this?”, Wikling knocked and came into the office. He put a device there and Dom looked at him.

“It is USB containing the presentation. Boss has approved it and you can also see and if you wanna make any changes then do it.”, Wikling said in a cold tone and didn’t even look at him which kinda made Dom frustrated. He was about to leave but on recalling something he turned back.

“And if you want someone else to accompany you to Alaska then I can suggest boss some names”, he just told him, it was not an opinion even, and left the office. Dom surprisingly was acting cool. May be he still was lost in yesterday’s dispute.

******

 “Did you call me boss?”, Wikling asked Sullivan who was busy in his work.

“Ah..yes…come in”, Wikling came in.

“So are you both ready for the flight?”, Sullivan asked and Wikling looked confused. He thought that Dom would have asked Sullivan to replace him but….

“Haven’t Dom told you anything?”, Wikling asked.

“About what? If there is any issue tell me. Don’t hide it ” Sullivan looked concerned.

“No…nothing important.”, Wikling assured.

Sullivan then explained some important points that Wikling didn’t pay attention to as he was thinking about Dom. Why didn’t he ask Sullivan to send someone else? It was a mystery to him.

Wikling arrived at the airport and waited for Dom to arrive as well. There was some time and Wikling was getting bored. He had his concerns about Dom. What if he didn’t cooperate with him? What if we failed the conference? Wikling has been on many conferences before but he was hell of nervous.

“Are you ready Wikling?” Upon hearing his name he looked and see the huge building of muscle, Dom who was looking stunning in his branded almond colored suit. He removed his coat to reveal his tight fitting shirt that clang his body defining his bulging melons and flat stomach. His beard was trimmed properly and short hair were cut nicely. He had groomed him well. People walking by would turn to watch the tall handsome hunk. Wikling felt his tool twitching in his crotch and was getting sexually excited but he calmed himself down as he could recall how badly he was berated yesterday by his boss.

“So you have arrived”, Wikling asked in his cold tone. Dom understood he was still upset but didn’t say a word.

“Let us go then”, he signaled Wikling and started walking to get aboard pulling his suitcase while Wikling followed him drooling over his wife back and nice firm ass. His cock was getting hard so he distracted his mind by looking around and focusing on his presentation.

Both sat in their seats. Wikling got the one near widow so he made himself comfortable. Dom settled down as well. There was silent between both during the flight. Wikling didn’t even look at him watching outside through the window. Dom was frustrated at the boredom partly by Wikling who didn’t even look at him. He took a magazine and turned it’s pages forward watching over Wikling through the corner of his eyes. Out of frustration he called hostess and asked for drinks. He surprisingly asked Wikling if he wanted one but he refused with his head. The guilt was making Dom restless. The hostess brought the drink and gulped it down at once. What was happening with him? Fuck! What should he say? Should he apologise? Hell no. He has never done that in his life. Doms never apologise even if they are wrong. Fuck again.

Dom lifted his hand to take an initiative and start the conversation because it was really getting boring but he put it down again. He looked around to feel better. He caught sight of a handsome young man who was staring at him but turned his gaze down as Dom looked at him. Dom recalled that this guy was staring at him constantly as they were departing but he ignored him. He didn’t know that he would be in their flight. Dom hit a great idea to overcome his boredom. He continued to stare at the boy who would time to time look back and would blush in embarrassment as Dom now knew he was into him. Dom gave his seductive smile and the man blushed again and smiled back. Dom stood up and started walking towards him. The dude looked alert as he was not alone. He thought Dom was coming towards him but he passed by him winking at him. Dom actually gave him a signal to follow him he understood but was cautious whether should he go or not. But Dom knew he was horny and would never miss the opportunity. And it happened, the boy was outside the bathroom door as Dom opened it. He smiled and signaled him to come in. The guy looked around to see if the cost was clear and with racing heart entered the bathroom.

Dom hurled his arms spring his thin waist and squeezed his ass cheeks tighter. The slim dude shuddered feeling the strong hands on his ass. He looked at the handsome jock who was eating him from his eyes.

“You are so handsome”, the dude commented.

“And you are cute”, Dom replied.

“How should I address you Sir?”, The slim dude asked him with utter respect that Dom expected from it.

“Hmm you know well how to call your superior….I’m Dominic….call me Dom”, Dom said.

“Oh yes Sir…you are my Dom”, the young man said sensually feeling his beard with his hands and sniffing the amazing scent of his cologne.

“What’s your name slut?”, Dom asked.

“I’m Ivan sir.”, He replied spreading his hands over Dom’s muscular pecs feeling their warmth and then reaching for his biceps that Dom proudly flexed. Ivan pressed his hands on the bulge of his both biceps.

“These are magnificent”, he said in enthusiasm.

“You like them slut?”, Dom moved forward and pressed his back against the sink rubbing his bulging crotch against his which was stimulating him even more.

“Yes Sir. I love ’em. I love muscular studs and you are one muscle giant”, Ivan skipped no moment to impress this hulk of a muscle god feeling his bulge against his arousing dick.

“Good boy, now get to the real deal slut”, Dom whispered in his brand new bottom slut’s ears and turned him around towards the mirror. Mirror could see both of them, how his huge fucker unbuckled his pants along with kissing on his neck sensually keeping in his horny state. The huge man was handling him expertly like a total top should do. Ivan looked like a little deer caught in the arms of a huge bear. He saw this black Alpha at the airport. The moment he entered a huge proportion of people were staring at him like some movie star or a model has arrived. Like others he was enticed by his personality and grace and being in such intimate scene with him could only be possible in his dream. He was feeling lucky to be picked up by himself.

Dom lowered his pants down and unzipped his own pants. He rubbed his dick against his bottom’s ass teasing him a bit. As he was about to penetrate the tight hole of his bottom they were interested by a smack on the door.

“Ivan hurry up what are you doing inside for such long?”, Ivan shivered upon hearing his boss’s thunderous sound.

“Who’s he?”, Dom asked not leaving him instead penetrating his huge cock into his aching hole.

“Sir he is my ahhhh…. boss and he is so strict….ah…We have to do this another time. I’m really sorry ahhhh”, Ivan apologized feeling the pain his top was giving him.

“You are leaving your Master unserved slut”, he whispered.

“Sir I wanna get fuck by your magnificent tool really bad Sir. But…..ok just fuck me Sir. I don’t wanna leave you unsatisfied.”, There was honesty in Ivan’s tone and Dom expected this from him.

“That’s like my boy…now shut you stupid boss up and let me give you what you want”, Dom whispered.

“I’m coming in a while boss. I have bad bowel you know.”, Ivan said.

“Hurry up turtle”, his boss went away.

Dom invaded his thick fuck tool grabbing his light weighed body in his strong muscular grip. He lifted him up a bit with his tool penetrating hard. Ivan couldn’t stand the pain his fucker was giving him. He clenched his teeth and fists and let his Dom ruin his dick.

“Ahhhhhh…fuck….you are so big….ahhhh…fuckk”, Ivan put his hand on his mouth so that his screams could not be heard by others. He was used to taking dicks but never ever he had taken such a huge meant in his hole.

“Sir….you are breaking me….go slow…please”, Ivan couldn’t stand more and pleaded.

“No boy…I like it rough and tough…so take it like a good bitch boy”, Dom always did what he want. He would totally ignore his bottom’s pleading and crying cuz he was an Alpha and according to him bottoms are to satisfy their tops instead of getting them satisfied.

“Oh…fuckkkk….ok…ok….fuck me….do what you like Sir….I’m your slut…fuck me hard.”, Ivan screamed.

“Thats like my boy. Now stay still and let me give you the fuck of your life.”, Dom was horny as hell. And then Dom pounded his bottom harder and rougher with Ivan enduring all the hammering with patience and pleasure. Dom was breathing hard and was struggling to release his load which never happens before.

“Uh…fuck bitch you are so tight”, Dom was breathing fast as well. He was worried about his ejaculation. He never took time before. He was hard then why his dick couldn’t explode his load. He was fucking Ivan with full force who was now in bliss and loved getting fucked by such amazing fucker. Dom along with the real action began to think about his past fuck sessions that how he fucked so many dudes before. One after one in a chronological order his every sex session was sinking in his mind and when the recent sex with Wikling ran in his mind for some weird reason his dick began to throb. He recalled how Wikling gave him an amazing rim job. He didn’t even think about that sex but while fucking Ivan suddenly the sights of being bottom prevailed his mind and gave sensual, erotic stimulations to his throbbing cock. Feeling the urge to explode his load he stuck in his bottom thoughts where Wikling was fucking him, he even put his top stature on stake in urge of shooting his juice.

“Oh fuck….I’m gonna come bitch..right into your hole…”, Dom said feeling the wave of flood ready to destroy his bottom’s hole.

“Oh yes Sir shoot your juice….I ll keep it in for your next load”, what a slut Ivan was.

Dom grabbed his pecs tightly and lifted Ivan up in air and with one full force his cock exploded deep into his hole. Dom grunted louder and shoot eight to nine loads of his thick creamy juice in Ivan’s juicy cunt.

“Oh my God Sir….yes…you are amazing”, Ivan contained his fucker’s load by clenching his hole.

“You were amazing slut”, Dom complemented him and buckled up his pants.

“Where are you staying?”, Dom asked.

“I have come for a conference and I’m staying in a hotel with my boss”, Ivan zipped up.

“So you are also gonna attend the conference?”, Dom asked.

“Yes”, Ivan replied.

“It means there are chances of us to meet again boy”, Dom said.

“Sure Sir”, Ivan was excited to meet him again.

“Ok let’s go then see ya soon boy”, Dom opened the door and came out. Ivan’s boss saw him coming and after few mins seeing Ivan coming out him in doubt.

“Ah…I’m relaxed now. Aren’t you weakling?”, Dom returned to his normal attitude which was surprising for Wikling and he didn’t reply. Dom realised he was still upset with him so he kept silent again. Suddenly he remembered that he was thinking about that humiliating night with Wikling fucking him. But why did he think about that? And why the hell did that thought excite him so much? He turned his face to see Wikling who was looking at the clouds outside the window.

***Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe “inspired by a true story.” Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details have been tweaked to protect the “innocent.” By all means, send feedback along to [email protected]***

---

The funny thing is, in some ways, just chilling with Jeremy was as great as fucking him.

Okay, let’s not kid ourselves… but you know what I mean.

Maybe it was the stereotypical guy thing, or stereotypical straight guy thing, but seconds after we were baring our souls to each other, we quickly backed up and returned to busting each other’s balls. Guy shit. Big boy laughter, from little boy humor. We had a blast, stuffing our faces with food and excitedly talking with our mouths full.

And yeah… there was an… extra glow around Jeremy. Confidence. Even cockiness, but in the best, male sense. And somewhat out of character for him, he kept going on and on about plans to start getting ahead at work, maybe even taking some business classes to take on more of the administrative responsibilities. At one point I was ribbing him, “Look at you! All… planning and shit!” I gotta say, it suited him. Ambitious without being cutthroat. Thinking ahead. Wanting more out of life. Seeing him in that confident glow, I was reminded all over about how much I liked him.

Maybe in all of this, that was one of the surprises: I… liked him. A lot.

How… unbelievable was that, when you think of it? To find a guy, as an adult, as a man, who you didn’t just like in a general sense, but truly and genuinely liked? Found someone you knew deep down was your ride-or-die, partner in crime?

But unlike my good times with my other buddies, our friendship clearly had more of an edge to it. And that was certainly the case now. Even after a round or two together, we were still circling each other like sharks. Our banter was liberally sprinkled with sexual innuendo. I mean, guy talk is anyway, but this was more… pointed. We were deliberately keeping each other at a low boil.

And naturally, it started to boil over.

After stuffing our faces, we started to clean up. But somehow our hands stayed busy with… other things… rather than clear off the table. Shit. He kept… doing things. Not just with his pair of roving hands, but with his tongue. Right behind my ear. Sliding up to me, and… damn. I was getting him back; his magic spots were many, and included his neck and nipples. We were both sporting some rising wood, our hearts were going strong, and our voices were lowering into low baritone rumbles.

Finally, I broke away, spurning his wandering fingers. “Okay. I sprang for this food, so you’re doing cleanup. We’re not doing anything until you load the dishwasher.” Jeremy let out an exasperated whine. “The faster you move, the faster we can move on to bigger and better things. And I’m sure you remember just how much bigger and better I am.”

Jeremy tired to scoff, but he got his butt in gear.

God… watching that man just did something to me. His body. His movements. Unmistakably male. Familiar. Exciting.

I moved over to the couch, watching him hustle. I was sprawling out there, at the center of the L-shaped joint where a chaise extended out from the sofa. Temptation personified. Openly leering at him. Stoking myself slowly. I was fully hard, with my balls charged again.

Jerking, waiting.

At last, Jeremy kicked the dishwasher door shut. I had no doubt loverboy there was so worked up he had simply thrown the dishes in with all the care of a rabid raccoon, but he was done and made his way over to me. Rock hard himself, despite the indignity of the food cleanup. His juices were clearly flowing.

I had an idea. One I thought he would… enjoy.

I stopped him, standing there, before he could slide onto the couch with me. “Wait a second, bud,” I growled, in a voice so dripping with sex that even one of those battle-hardened hookers from down by the docks would blush. “Let me express my appreciation for you stopping by tonight.”

He got a skeptical look on his face, but there was no busting his chops this time, no jerking him around. Just me showing my appreciation.

I extended my leg. Slowly. Like a burlesque dancer. Catching my toes on his meaty thigh. Fuuuuck… all that biking he did worked wonders with my bud’s legs. I started running my toes through his course hair. Upwards. Up. “C’mhere, friend.” He stepped closer. And my leg flexed. Reaching. Using my big toe to make slow circles over his skin. Jeremy had been watching my foot, but now raised his eyes, catching mine.

He gave me a sinner’s smile.

I slowly dragged my toes across his hair-covered muscles, still up, and up. Right until I reached his hairy ballsack. His telephone pole of a dick was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. My toes slid behind his balls. Rolling them. Feeling the course sweep of his bush against my toes. Jeremy moaned; I had his undivided attention.

I slid my foot up, flexing, rolling the sole around his rock-hard dick. Curling my toes around his shaft, like I was jacking him. Up and down, up and down. Feeling the drool of his cocksnot as it leaked from his piss slit, and smearing it across the arch of my foot. “I remember you liking my feet,” I growled huskily. “One of the first things you did. You fucking rocked my world.”

“Fuck yeah,” he snarled back. He pulled my foot up, bringing it to his face. Rubbing the foot across himself. Dry smearing it. Letting himself feel the skin. His beard scraped at me, almost tickling. Almost. But the intensity in his eyes as he dragged his scruffy jaw against me instantly killed any and all laughter in my throat.

Something snapped in him—the feel? the scent? the memory? Something snapped, and suddenly he went after my foot hard, as hard as he did when he was eating my ass. Rough. Not giving a shit. His tongue flared out, slurring my skin. I moaned out appreciatively. Fuck. He was making me feel good. Showing me things. Rolling me with his mouth, his tongue. Getting me wet. Sending liquid fire inside me to match the wetness of his spit. Rougher. More forceful. Luxuriating in the feeling.

He opened his mouth and went down on me, sucking my toes like it was my cock. Sucking. Sucking hard. His hand rubbing up and down my hairy leg, feeling the friction in his hands. Sucking. His tongue oozing between my toes. Fuck. It was so… low. So gloriously raunchy. Primal. Not giving a fuck about propriety. Spit was running between my toes, running down the underside of my foot. My cock was throbbing to the pounding of my heart. Lost. Jeremy was lost. Fucking overwhelmed.

Yeah, the first time he did this, I gave him my ass. I’d do it again in the heartbeat.

But not just yet.

I dropped my foot back down, down to work over his engorged cock. It was easier now, with my foot slick and nasty with spit. Sliding across his dick. I slid my butt forward so I could bring my other foot to really jerk him. That one was still too dry. I raised it up, “Spit on it for me.” Jeremy gave me a half-smile and took that foot into his mouth too, mouth-fucking my toes. Sucking me. Making me feel good.

I dropped down and gripped his cock with my spit-slick feet. Massaging it. Feeling his hardness. The scour of his hairy balls. Jeremy was… aroused. In a testosterone-fueled daze. Tweaking his hairy nipples, flushed with excitement. His eyes filled with fucking fire as he watched me. Me slowly jacking my own cock, matching the motions.

Making my guy feel good.

Jeremy finally wrenched himself back to reality, turning a truly frightening gaze on me. Looming over me.  Women would have screamed; my dick got harder.

Jeremy moved in, dropped to his knees, and savagely went down on me. Swallowing my cock deep into his gullet. No playing. No teasing. Fire. Sucking me so hard, so fast, I yelped. He didn’t back down; and as he fucking swallowed me down, my eyes rolled all the way back into my head. “FUUUUUUUUCK! Oh God man, fucking take me!”

Jeremy fucking took me.

He started slamming his head up and down, mouth-fucking me for all he was worth. His tongue slurring down my shaft and he went, as he sucked as hard as he could. He went too fast, fucking gagging himself, but he was too far to care. He did it again, gagged again. Sucking hard. It was hot as fuck.

His hands ranging free and hard against my hairy torso, with my skin coming alive at his touch. Lightning. Lighting across my skin. Lightning down the saft of my cock. Alive. Making me feel alive as only another man could do. Pulling one hand back to grip my shaft, his spit running through his fingers as he went. Jerking me as he sucked me. Working my cockhead with his tongue, the rest of me with his hand. I writhed underneath him. My own hands gripping him. Swirling through his hair, digging into his shoulders. Fuck. FUCK.

I needed his cock.

I was only dimly aware of throwing him back, perpendicular to me on the couch, and crawling over him like some inhuman beast so I could get at his cock. OH GOD. God, his scent. The man musk. Already made heady by a long day of work, but infused with the smell of man sex. Smelling of sweat. Spit. My ass juice. Cum. FUCK. Jeremy growled, snarling out his pleasure. I was simultaneously raping his dick my mouth and all but hyperventilating smelling that musky brew. Sucking him harder than even he had sucked me. A battle of talent, showing him up. More sounds. Showing how fucking hot for him I was. Sucking. Driving down. Sucking. Feeling his body shudder below me. Making him mine. Sucking. Making him howl.

Jeremy couldn’t keep himself away. He roughly rolled me on my back, then slithered his body over me like an infernal snake. Fuck. He took my cock back into his mouth while backing his ass into my face. I fucking attacked him. Feverish in my need. GOD I loved his butt funk. Raw. Primal. Masculine. The smell of man-sex. I lost my mind. Sucking his hole as hard as I had his cock. Sweeping side to side, scouring his skin with my stubble. Lapping him up, and back to sucking. Sucking his pucker so hard I was driving him forward. Jeremy kept is mouth on my dick throughout, matching me for brutal intensity. Locked in our own world of raw masculinity. Raw man sex.

His ass had me burning like a thousand suns exploding in the sky at once. I pawed at the bottle of lube I had next to me. I violently forced him back, nearly folding him in half, knees to chest. I roughly hoisted up his hips to spread his buttcheeks, and lined up my cock. There would be time, later, for teasing. Time for a beautiful romantic moment. Not now. Not fucking now. Not while I was raging with enough testosterone in my body to kill a whale.

I slammed into him. Deep. His eyes flew open and he roared. I pulled all the way out, and fucking rammed him again. Balls deep. Ramming. Again. Take that, fucker. Like battleships colliding. Fuck it—I didn’t care how much it stung, he could fucking cope. I savagely gripped his shoulders for balance, and fucking pounded him in, deep. DEEP. Holding. Then pulling back and pounding him again. We both roared, like dinosaurs tearing at each other. Driven by that desperate need to mate, or die trying. Feeling that indescribably heat, that pressure of his tight hole. Tighter than any cunt. Tight enough for a man. UUUNNGH. Pounding into him. Again. UNNNNGH!! Again.

Jeremy’s hand launched forward, sliding them under my armpits and around. He grabbed me… and fucking wrenched me into him, as hard as I was pounding his ass. AAAARRRRRGH! AAARRRGH!! Again and again we collided. Roaring out our need. Fucking. Fucking like MEN. Goddamn it, I was fucking alive! Brought to life as I could never be brought to life with a woman.  AAAARRRRRGH! Slamming. Jeremy was red, his teeth clenched enough to dent steel. Sweat ran down my nose, splashing across the face with each violent thrust. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGH!

I could feel my balls churning, and knew I was close. I reared back, and started thunder-pounding him. Fast. FAST. FEEL THAT, FUCKER! Pounding the cum out of me. Fast. Furious. Clenching. Teeth. Hands. Pounding. Pounding. Fucking POUNDING.

And with an almighty roar, I fucking exploded. Blasting my baby batter into him. Not stopping. Churning it like unholy whipped cream as I slammed into him. Bellowing the whole time. The white foam splattering out his well-used hole. Still I pounded. Pounded. Losing focus. Still… losing… drifting… aww fuuuuuuck.

Finally, with no fight left in me, I slid out, and collapsed so I was sitting beside him. Panting. Ears ringing. Flushed in victory. I was spent, not knowing day from night. But fucking on top of the world.

To my surprise, Jeremy pulled himself up, rolled over on top of me, and started kissing me. Deep and physical. God. The feel of his scruffy beard on my face. That feeling of… intimacy. With another dude. It… never stopped amazing me. Never got old. That this fucking lion of a man wanted… me. Shared this amazing experience, willingly. He wanted this. With… me. I mean, the man was a god. A lumberjack god. No one would willingly mess with him. And from the way he was raised, it would have seemed far more likely that he’d kick my ass rather than fuck it. Let alone let me fuck him.

But on top of everything, here was this Manly Man… kissing me. More gay, more intimate than even getting fucked. Kissing me in a way that set off a tornado of butterflies in my stomach.

How was this… possible…?

I didn’t care. God. I was loving all of it. Needing it. More than anything I’d needed in my life. 

I think it was at that moment that the rational part of my brain finally stood down. Not needing to think things through. Just so swept up in the… the fucking joy of the moment that I finally let go. Lost in that kiss.

Lost in Jeremy.

But Jeremy had more on his mind than making out. As I sat there at the crook of the sofa, Jeremy started kissing his way down. Mouthing me. Dragging his face across my sweaty pecs. Suckling at my hairy nipples. Setting my skin on fire. The butterflies inside my stomach were now dancing along my skin in the wake of that obscene man-tongue. Slurring left and right. Slurring. Everywhere. A long, languid lick down my chest… down. Down. Slurring spent cum from my bellybutton. Wet and heavy. Down. Down.

And fucking landing on my cock.

God! Having shot such a massive load, I was pretty sensitive. And… Jesus… I mean, I had just been inside him. He didn’t give a fuck. Lost in this primal, all-consuming male moment. Taking me in. Leaving off the harshest of sucking while I was in recovery, but… licking me. Rolling my still-swollen cock head around his mouth. Slurping down my shaft and working my balls. Jesus… even though he was careful, I was still squirming at the intensity of it. Like I was pushing through one of those freeze-headaches from eating ice cream too fast. Writhing. Just on the cusp of pain. Moaning. Raking my hands through his hair and down his back. Barely keeping it together. Totally lost in the moment. Sharing it. Sharing a moment as no woman ever would. My cock, his mouth, my hands, my dizzying brain….

I needed to return the favor. Show him the same care, the same respect he had shown me.

Jeremy was essentially laying perpendicularly to me—his face in my crotch, his naked body splayed down the length of the chaise section of the sofa. I was running my hands down his spine, and decided to keep going. I lightly freed myself from his mouth so I could slide over him, moving head-first down towards his feet. I rolled my tongue out, lazily circling a spot right between his shoulder blades, then running down the base of his spine to the small of his back. Down. Down further. I slid down him, feeling the wetness of his sweaty skin.

Down. Down.

Down to where I could finally run my face through his hairy crack.

Slow motions. Wet motions. He was hot, on fire. And our heart-pounding fucking had him nice and sweaty. Fucking GAAAAWWWWD… the scent of man-sex. This man’s sex. I swept my face to take in each of his meaty asscheeks. Biting, then kissing them. Feeling the sensations ripple through Jeremy’s body. Making out with his ass, from above. Running my tongue down him again, down to his hole. Wet with my frothy load. Relaxed from having just been ripped apart by my fat dick. Fucking making out with him, sliding my tongue in. Opening him. Sliding my tongue in deep.

Jeremy groaned loudly, the sound muffled with his face in the cushions. He was waggling his butt, trying to get my tongue inside him. Feeling the burn of my stubble. God. We were locked in a moment, as raw as ever a moment was. A perfect slur of wet and taste and heat and scent and hair. Rushing together, swirling like we were in a dream world. GOD this man made me horny.

Jeremy broke the mood, “Dude,” he breathed out hoarsely, “Are you hard enough to fuck me some more? God I need your cock.”

I was. Fuck. Even just having shot into him, I was hard enough to cut diamonds.

I shifted positions, moving around, lying with my hairy chest against his back. Sliding into him. “MMMMUUUUOOOOOOO,” he moaned below me. His whole body shuddering. No resistance, his pucker was desperate for my cock. I slid in. GAAAAWWD. That feel, that dick-crushing feel of him. Tighter than any cunt. Tighter than anything. I could feel his ass grip my cock, massaging. Squeezing. Playing with me. I was bucking into him, tight and deliberate. No hammer strokes. We didn’t need them. Just the raw feel of dick and ass. Lubricated by 10 gallons of cum inside him. FUCK. The feel of our shared sweat as I slid on him. Making us so slick, my chest hair slid across him without resistance as I rocked forward and back. My face tightly pressed behind his ear. Breathing him in. Hot sweaty male. The smell of balls, ass and cum filling the room… tingling my nose, too. We ground together, a slow-dance fuck. Raw and intimate. The fucking tightness of his ass. The throb of my dick. Mouthing him, mouthing his sweaty skin. So fucking tight. He turned his head, trying to raise his lips to mine. Finding. Slurred together. Tight. Making out. GOD his ass. God his mouth.

I don’t know how long we were like that. Lost in the drag of sloppy manflesh grinding together. I sped up and slowed down, reading him. Reading his body. The rise and fall of his moans. No words were needed between us; I had learned from being fucked by him how best to do the fucking. Twisting and torquing. Speed and slowness. Naturally. A symphony of sounds, bestial. We were fucking MEN. Real men. Men unleashed. Feeling our way through. I got close, so many times. But always held back before blastoff. Lost in the moment. Too lost to care.

But as time drifted, and his body worked mine, I could feel the fire in my balls burning to life again. I needed release. I pushed up, giving myself more leverage and fucking leaned into him, hard. More aggressively. Pumping my cock deep, Hard. Hard. I hadn’t realized how far gone I was. In the end, it only took the barest of strokes before I exploded. Far harder than I would have thought. Hard, like I was been ripped apart. A wailing, echoing scream and I was done.

My mind cleared God knows how long later. Jeremy and I were in each other’s arms, pressed closely. I started making out with him, and dimly realized his entire midriff was wet. Drenched. And sticky. I looked down, then at him, curiously. “Yeah, you got me to cum as you fucked me… I think more than once.”

“Shit man,” I laughed, exhaustedly. “I think I need a drink. You?”

“Shit, yeah. Make it strong, and make it neat.”

By this time, the ball game—ostensibly, the reason Jeremy was over here in the first place—had started on the TV, so I grabbed the bottle and a couple of glasses, and we dragged ourselves back onto the couch to watch. After a few rounds of messy, sweaty fun, we were kinda in rough shape, but didn’t really give a fuck. The dried cum in our chest hair and crotches was a badge of honor.

It was funny how effortlessly we pivoted to shooting the shit and cheering on the boys. It reminded me again of how much I loved hanging out with Jeremy. Even without the mind-blowing sex, it was just… fun. And made me reflect on my best bud and the strange road of his life. He came from a blue collar, manly-man world, was raised by a manly-man guy, and to most casual observers was the living embodiment of… a manly-man life. Rough and tumble, strong, used to working with his hands. Physical.

But I knew him better.

Deep inside, there was still a quiet, curious boy… who despite everything looked at the world with a sense of adventure. A boy’s sense of wonder. Strong and silent for the most part, he still had deep feelings that came from being an outsider looking in. Still waters ran deep. He thought about things, and was… interesting to talk to. In a way my other buds hadn’t really been. I quietly marveled at his hidden depths, which always surprised me. Once you got him talking, especially with a couple of drinks, he was an animated conversationalist. Even an aggressive conversationalist. You had to keep up.

But that all melted away in moments like this, when we were just plain… guys. We weren’t… flirting with each other, although sex was not far from our minds. At least not flirting the way guys did with women. We were… physical. In each other’s business. An ongoing dance of… you know, the light back-of-the-hand whaps, the mock pushes off each other, theatrical punches to the arms. Plus, the hearty, loud banter laden with smart-ass quips. The chortling laughter. Buds.

I mean, we just got each other.

The game wasn’t a particularly good one, and as our shared whiskey went to work, we were more in each other’s faces. The playful touches lasted… longer. There was a point I realized he had his hand, lightly gripping my shoulder, and I was running my hand along his hairy forearm. Our conversation died away. I could feel his hairy leg slide against mine.

I set my drink down. The banter turned… laughing. Gently laughing.

I don’t know that I remember even what we were saying, as I moved in. It didn’t matter. There was just that… music of his baritone voice. Almost mocking me. Laughter. I leaned in, cupping the back of his head, my fingers sliding through his mussed hair. Laughter. The heat of him. The feel of his skin.

I leaned in and kissed him. Well, almost kissed him. Sliding my puckered lips against his, sliding some… then lightly biting him.

That got his attention.

He gripped me tight, his arm wrapped around my neck, and pulled me in. It was a kiss, just for a second, before it degenerated into more a… oral maul.

Oh yeah, my man’s juices were definitely flowing again.

Fuck, he was a good kisser. It was all the passion of a hard fuck, just focused elsewhere. God, the feel of him. That friction of our chest hair, ground together. The harshness of his calloused hands gripping me. I responded in kind, fighting back as only another guy could. Rising to his challenge.

A hard, and sloppy collision of men.

In the end, he surprised me by lifting me up, in a mock parody of carrying me over the threshold. He carried me, hefty guy that I am, and lay me down on my rumpled bed. Like it was our fucking wedding night. Maybe, in some ways, it was. He pinned me, his arms over my head, and made out with me. And when he was good and ready, and both of us were seething with hormonal fire….

…he fucked the everlasting shit out of me.

No pausing.

No holding back.

No compunctions about anything.

Like we were drunk at a death metal concert, with all the violent collisions of distorted guitars, thunderous percussion, car-crash tempos, and guttural vocals. And the harsh fucking physicality of guys slamming into each other.

It was raw, unrelenting fucking, until I swear every muscle in my body was screaming.

It still wasn’t enough. Not for me. Never enough.

But it was… strange. In time, the fuck was still going strong, but our fire…had… burned away everything. Burned away all the bullshit. Quieting. Focusing. And as the fucked-up carnival ride of our fucking slowed… everything somehow, impossibly, seemed to build in emotional intensity. Build to this… moment. This perfect moment.

A moment beautiful and terrible in its power.

I have a hazy memory of me on my side, with Jeremy gloriously drilling me from behind. His hands. Everywhere. His dick, roaring and grinding inside me. His mouth, everywhere. His hairy balls grinding against mine. His growls ringing in my ears. And FUCK! …the fire inside me, the… the sensations outside me…. All together. It was a moment of pure adrenaline, wrapped in power, and light…

…and so much more. Something….

Something bigger. Something bigger than even the two of us together.

It’s odd. I often thought of our sex as like… guys coming together and being guys. Aggression. Action. Rivalry. Physicality. Like the ultimate game of one-on-one, or a prize-winning duel in The Octagon, where we’re going to finally settle something like men, once and for all.

But right then, right at that moment, it was… more than that. So, so fucking much more. Wrapped around all that physicality was… emotion. Hundreds of emotions. Men’s emotions. Honest and true. All together. All at once.

Despite us pawing at each other, it wasn’t combative, but rather….

…Shit, I can’t even describe it.

It was like… we found… unity.

Like, it wasn’t that we were locked in an MMA battle-to-the-death at all. Rather, it was like the time I went white-water rafting in a 2-man raft a few years ago. Pure physicality. Pure adrenaline. Pure power. Pure triumph. But… working for it. Together. Sharing it. Sharing the exhilaration with the other guy in the raft. That feeling of triumph, of conquering the world… right alongside one lucky bastard who was there with you through the thick of it, and was the only guy who could possibly understand.

Finally… I think I understood.

And for the first time since Jeremy and I started getting together, I… gave myself to him. Entirely. Body and spirit. And we rode the rapids together.

God. The moment flooded over me. Through me. I never had a moment like that in my entire life. It startled me. And if I’m being honest, it almost scared me.

And I held onto that moment as hard as I fucking could.

After he finally came, Jeremy stayed inside me, still flexing, rutting against me. Unable to let the moment go. I think he felt it, too. He was holding me, just… holding me. Together as one. Our heat as one. Our hearts pounding as one. Skin on skin. Sweat and cum swirled together. I was drifting, barely conscious, and in that dream-like moment I swear I could almost hear him murmuring, again and again: “You’re so fucking amazing, you’re so fucking amazing, you’re so fucking amazing, you’re–“ An unbroken mantra. Until I could hear—feel—his breathing quietly become still and steady. Steady against my skin. As the big guy drifted into dreamless sleep. Still inside. Finally nuzzling me as he drifted into dreamless sleep. Still inside me. Never releasing me from his manly grip.

The oddest thought crossed my mind as I finally drifted off, too: how in cuddling, I had never been the small spoon before. Always the big one….

*

We barely got going in the morning… it fucking sucked that it was still a work day and I was somehow supposed to be productive. God, we were still stupid-sloppy with each other, and it was only through superhuman force that I got Jeremy out the door so I could throw the well-used bedding into the wash and shower up again—he rather spectacularly undermined my first attempt—before going to work.

My wife returned that evening, none the wiser. Funny—she was still feeling frisky from our previous round of phone sex and was definitely up for more. I demurred somewhat; I declared that in honor of her big presentation, tonight I was just gonna be there for her. Left unsaid was the fact that after the past 24 hours, I doubt I could have gotten it up for all the money in the world.

Jeremy and I were now fully in synch. Fortunately, we were able to fall into a more regular rhythm of get-togethers, to our ongoing delight. We rarely got all the time we hoped for, but about every couple of weeks or so we met on the side and went ape-shit on each other. Sometimes we just had time for a blow-and-go or something quick. But when we did find the time? Damn. I’m surprised our poor, benighted furniture survived. There was always the same desperate intensity, the same primal fire each time. Like a pair of Grizzly Bears grappling to the death. But underneath all that, there was an even stronger, steely undercurrent of emotion. Even if, in stereotypical male fashion, we never really spoke of it.

The weird thing is that the women in our lives never caught on, and sometimes actively encouraged us to meet up and “let loose.”

Oh, the irony.

In some ways, fucking around with Jeremy helped our relationships. It sounds counterintuitive, but it let us blow off some steam and recharge our batteries. We ended up being more focused in our lives, and more attentive, appreciative, and connected to our girls. If anything, both our respective relationships were stronger than before.

Or maybe that’s just me rationalizing.

But of course, nothing stays the same, even if you want it to. Jeremy did indeed move up the ladder at work, and ultimately he and Stacey moved into a much better place… together. That made our ongoing visits even trickier to schedule, and we both felt the burning frustration of not getting our rocks off as frequently.

But it was more than that. Jeremy wasn’t just a great fuck… he was my best friend.

I’m not gonna lie—feeling that distance grow between us… well, it got to me. And the shitty thing about it, is there was no way to vent about it. Not to anyone.

We still got together when we could, but life, work, and demands of the womenfolk often intervened. Sometimes, time together just didn’t work out. And sure enough, at one point we hit a dry stretch that ended up dragging on for several weeks.

One Saturday, I got a text. My relief to hear from him again was… immense. He said that Stacey would be out for most of the morning, and he really wanted to see me, if it was at all possible. Was I game?

Shit. I got so hard, so fast, I about ripped a hole in my gym shorts. I made up an excuse to my wife on the fly as I ran out the door—I’m not even sure if it was plausible—and tore down the highway to get to his place.

“Hey man!” I shouted as he opened the door. I caught him up in the biggest, most effusive bear hug I’ve ever given. Feeling the pummel as he slapped me on my back. Breathing his dusky scent in. Fuck. I was home.

After a beat, he untangled himself and stepped back. “Hey man, before we… well, before things get… well, I mean, just to be clear….”

“What?” I asked, not liking this change in his usual form of greeting one bit.

“Well, I just…. There’s something I gotta say. To tell you. Just… um, listen up for a second. You see…? It’s that I… well, really we… okay, I mean like Stacey, really, but you know… us…”

“Would you just say it?” I said levelly.

“We’re… I’m… gonna have a baby. Stacey’s… pregnant.”

Ooof. I froze. Thinking. Not helping. I took a few steps, trying to clear my mind.

Shit. Shit. I mean, of course I should have realized something like this could happen. Likely would happen. But… shit. I just…

Then I turned and looked at Jeremy. Seeing him. Seeing him like no one ever did. Seeing… a guy… I…

I shook myself. And swallowed hard. Not fair to him. I took a deep breath. “Oh, shit man, sorry… my bad. You just totally caught me off guard. Of course that’s great news! Congratulations! How long have you known?”

Jeremy visibly relaxed. “It’s been a few weeks. We haven’t told people yet… well, just Stacey’s mom. It’s still too early, and things can easily go wrong…”

“Dude,” I said warmly. As warmly as I could. “This is great news. I’m happy for you. Both. You’ll make a great dad.”

Jeremy looked at me, sharply. With a… haunted expression. “God, I hope so. I fucking hope so. What if… shit, what if I’m like my dad? What if I totally fuck my kid up? Leave him a twisted, broken chickenshit on the floor, like my old man left me?”

“Jesus, dude… no! Fucking NO. You are nothing like your dad. Nothing! And besides, you’ve seen how a parent can fuck up their kid. You know what it’s like! You saw how he did it! And you’ve broken the fucking cycle. I don’t know much, but I know that’s not going to happen. I have way more confidence in your skills as a dad, knowing everything you’ve learned, than I have with just about anyone else’s. That kid is fucking lucky to have you. Jesus, that kid is going to be a fucking champion!”

Jeremy smiled, and looked down. There was a long, long silence. “Thanks man, he whispered. “Thanks for saying that. Thanks for thinking that. All of it. I was… I was freaked out about… how you might react.”

Shit. I stepped over to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and moved him over to his couch. Sitting down with him. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, it… threw me. But I’m serious: this is great news. I get it, totally. To be honest, Liv is anxious to start a family too. We’ve been… you know, trying. And I wasn’t sure how to tell you, either.”

“I don’t want things to change between us.”

I gave him a knowing, but benevolent look. “I think things will change for us, cowboy.”

“Yeah, but… not entirely. Not all together.” There was another pause, as he finally started getting to what was really on his mind. “Trevor. You’re… aw fuck. You’re one of the most important people in my life. Shit. I’m just gonna say it: I fucking love you, man. I’m sorry I’ve never told you, but it’s fucking true, I fucking love you. Maybe not the same way I love Stacey, but just as strong. Maybe stronger. You made me who I am. I can’t lose you. Lose what we have going. It would fucking wreck me.”

God, this guy always knew how to bring me to my knees. I’m not a crier, but there are times in a man’s life…

“Jeremy,” I choked out, emotion catching my throat. “I love you too. The same, but different as I love Liv. I know, I know… it’s complicated. And this may not change anything, but it changes everything. I fucking love you. And I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world!” Jeremy’s tear-stained smile lit up my soul. “And don’t you worry your pretty fucking head… you’ll need to take care of business, me too. But I will always be there for you. Be there if it’s at work, on the bike trail, a fucking PTA meeting….” Here, I leaned in, conspiratorially. “And especially in the bedroom. Or the kitchen floor. Or a fucking quickie in the park!” He smiled broadly, giving me that fucking smile of his. “Buddy, you’ve most definitely got me by the balls….”

Jeremy’s smile turned into a knowing leer… but to my surprise, he didn’t immediately take the bait. He paused, looking at me.

He had one more thing to say.

“Trevor, there’s something else I have to ask. I wasn’t at all sure how this conversation would go, and I was only going to go there if I thought… if I hoped…. Shit. Trevor… will you be the kid’s godfather?”

I was thunderstruck. “Uh, me?” I babbled. “Don’t you need to be someone with… you know, morals and good standing? That rules me out!”

Jeremy gave me A Look. “Dude. Shut up. There is no one I’d rather have helping to raise my kid, and I’d take your morals any day of the week. But there’s… more to it. We’ve always been, well… kinda like family. Right?”

“Well yeah, almost like family,” responded with a snarky grin.

“But see, this way, we can make it real. Like… more official. We really would be family. Legit.”

The quiet thunder of his words flattened me. Family. Family with a guy I loved. Forever.

I couldn’t speak in that moment if I tried, so I merely nodded. It was enough. Our trickle of tears became a flood, as we fell into each other’s arms. Ugly crying.

God, I loved him.

Finally, Jeremy pushed back. A different look in his eyes.

“Okay Trevor, enough of this bullshit. If you’re not naked by the time I count to three….”

“Way ahead of you,” I cut him off. And my pants hit the floor.

I had no idea what exactly the future had in store for us. But with Jeremy, I was ready. Ready for anything.

Anything.

THE END