Author: admin

It was inevitable that it would happen—sooner or later. It was building up to sooner. Karim, still, at eighteen, going by the nickname of Kari, had lain in bed in the connecting room at the Dome Hotel in the ancient harbor town of Kyrenia in Turkish Cypriot and listened to the Danish UN soldier fucking his father, Hadid, in the other room. Kari’s inclination was no different than his father’s, and he lay on his bed masturbating to the sounds of his father’s moans, first, as his father’s cries revealed, the soldier taking him forcefully right there on the floor of the bedroom in a doggy position and then on the bed with the headboard of the bed in the next room bouncing rhythmically against the wall and his father bleating how bloody big the Scandinavian was. It was nominally the midafternoon siesta time, a time during the hottest portion of the day that people in the Mediterranean took to their beds to nap. Hadid and Bjorn had taken to Hadid’s floor and then his bed to fuck—and later, Kari heard, in the shower of the other room as well.

None of this was a surprise to Kari. His father had made no bones about vacationing in Cyprus to get laid, and his top of chose was a Scandinavian UN solider—just what he was getting. He’d brought Kari with him because, he said, at eighteen it was time for Kari to go over the top too, no matter what his preference.

It seemed the Dane could go on for hours. Kari’s frustration was that he wouldn’t be with him. Kari was still a virgin to men.

Kari’s father was a Egyptian Arab. His family ran a successful restaurant in London. Kari’s mother was English, but she was off cruising around Norway with her boyfriend, and Kari had been brought on holiday to Turkish Cyprus by his father. The parents weren’t divorced but they quite definitely were separated. This supposedly was Kari’s holiday to celebrate having just turned eighteen. Both parents had declared it was an important time for Kari—his coming of age. His mother, however hadn’t put his special day ahead of what her Norwegian boyfriend wanted to do. Kari rather wondered if his father hadn’t taken up with the Dane just so he would have a Scandinavian too.

Kari’s parents also had a different idea of what coming of age meant. His mother thought of it more in terms of responsibility—pinning down a career and starting into it and moving on from being under her roof. His father was more of a pleasure in bed guy. This perhaps was why the two parents no longer were together. Hadid somewhat resented having Kari dumped on him because his mother wanted to go off with a boyfriend. That probably was why Hadid was in the adjacent room being very vocable about being rough fucked by a UN solider and having Kari just in the other room.

Well, Kari wouldn’t mind having a Scandinavian himself. He was ready to take that step.

Bjorn was a beautiful, blond, hulking UN soldier of twenty-three on vacation himself in Kyrenia from the UN base on the Green Line dividing the capital of Nicosia to the south of the harbor town. In 1986, there was an uneasy truce between the two factions dividing the island, the Greeks to the south and the Turks to the north. Rotating units of neutral UN countries took on the duty to keep the two ethnic communities apart. They sent elite troops of hunky soldiers. Bjorn definitely filled that bill.

Hadid and Bjorn had hooked up while touring the Kyrenia castle, a Byzantine castle nestled inside a Crusader’s Castle, in the harbor earlier in the afternoon. They had exchanged pleasantries in passing each other while exploring the castle. Bjorn and Hadid obviously liked the looks of each other and Bjorn had an eye for Hadid’s dark, sultry, eighteen-year-old son, Kari, as well. Kari, half Egyptian and half British, but all lithe, berry-brown, and handsome sultriness, had been attracting the attention of many Turkish men in the town. He had just the right mix of Europe and the Middle East in him to be seen as exotic by Mediterranean men. Turkish men, in particular, were a randy and demanding bunch. Many of them would fuck anything that moved. The Arab-English youth was ripe for it. For that matter so was his father.

Hadid had spent some of the time teasing Kari about getting laid for the first time. He seemed all for Kari losing his virginity to a man here in Cyprus. “What about that one . . . or that one,” he continuously was saying as they ogled the men who were ogling them.

His father had gone into seeking submissive mode as soon as they had entered Cyprus. With him, it was an often-employed stance. Having just turned eighteen, Kari wasn’t experienced in the male-to-male hookup, but he was more than interested and willing.

Bjorn was sitting at a table by the harbor, drinking beer, when Hadid and Kari came out of the castle. His eyes met with Hadid’s in passing, and an interest and understanding that had been established in the castle was affirmed. Bjorn asked them to sit and drink with him. They happily did so. They chatted amicably during which Bjorn established that Hadid was an active submissive and Kari was uninitiated, along on the vacation because he was celebrating an important birthday and couldn’t be left on his own in London.

Hadid didn’t tease Kari about having his cherry popped by the hunky UN soldier drinking beer with them, so the young man got the message that his father wanted the Dane for himself.

An hour later, they had gone to Hadid and Kari’s rooms in the Dome to escape the heat of the day and to honor the midday withdrawal hours of the locals. Hadid was on his knees, barking at the Dane, making like a dog in heat, and then on his back, legs raised and spread, arms raised over his head, grasping the rungs of the headboard, while the hunky, muscular Dane knelt between his thighs, pounding away in his stretched anal passage and pulling groans and little cries of pain-pleasure out of the Egyptian restauranteur on the make.

Kari was in the other room, on his bed, beating off, and wishing that someday—sooner than later—it would be him under a body beautiful such as the Danish soldier hunk. No doubt while plowing the father, the Dane was giving some thought to wishing—and hoping—to do the son as well. The son was claimed to be a virgin. He would be a delicious first-time lay.

They ate in the harbor next to the bobbing boats and under the strings of fairy lights that night. Kari sat next to the Dane and across from his father. The two older men carried the conversation, but the Dane touched Kari now and again on the arm or the leg and the young man was in heat. He also was watching a muscular and handsome Turk appearing to be in his early thirties closing down the small fishing boat he’d floated into the harbor and berthed right next to the table where Kari and the men were eating. The quay where the outdoor restaurant tables were located edged right up to the water where the boats were tied up.

As he worked, the Turk ogled Kari and Kari ogled him back. The Turk finished his business and came up onto the stone quay rimming the harbor that had been taken over by restaurant tables. He gripped Kari’s shoulder to help climb up onto the land. In doing so he smiled and nodded at Kari and Kari, feeling a surge of arousal, smiled back. He let his hand squeeze Kari’s shoulder for a few seconds longer than necessary and a surge of sexual energy coursed through the young man’s body.

The Turk didn’t leave the area. He moved as far as the opening of an alley beside the restaurant that served the outdoor tables where Hadid, Kari, and the Dane were eating, turned, leaned into the stone of the corner of the restaurant, and stared at Kari.

Not long afterward, Kari said he had to take a piss and left his father and the Dane and went toward the restaurant building across the quay. He didn’t make it there. The big bruiser Turkish fisherman, covered only in coveralls exposing much of his beefy chest, and in rubber boots, pulled Kari into the alley by the restaurant, into the shadows, and pushed him up against the stone wall.

His hands went all over the eighteen-year-old’s willowy body, covering the young man’s face and throat with kisses. The evening was quite warm, and Kari was only wearing shorts and sandals. The Turk grasped Kari under his thighs and raised his legs, hooking them on his hips, trapping the young man against the wall and off the walkway. Kari could feel the size of the hunky Turk’s erection. The youth moaned, ripe for where this was leading. Turkish men were cocky and forward and known to just take what they wanted. Kari thought that might be the best way to give up his virginity to men—to let the man do it all, make all of the decisions.

Was this it, then? Kari thought. Would he go across that divide here, in an alley, with a Turkish fisherman? If so, he was ready.

The Turk was already rocking his pelvis against Kari’s groin, with a hand down there feeling the young man up as well, ready to do a bit or rearranging and fucking him right there, right then, against the wall.

The Arab-English youth was aching for it too. But he could see out of the corner of his eye that his father and the Dane were rising from their table, ready to return to the Dome Hotel and fuck the night away. They’d be coming to look for him. He didn’t want to be the cause of a brawl between men who could best be put to use fucking him.

The Turk noticed the movement too and stiffened.

Kari hissed, “Late tomorrow morning. They are going to Nicosia tomorrow. Here, late in the morning.” He broke away, regretfully, and, flushed and aching for it, joined Hadid and Bjorn for the walk back to the Dome Hotel and to a night of Hadid’s joyous cries that the vigor and size of the Dane were killing him, the periodic rhythmic bouncing of the headboard against the wall in the other room, and Kari jerking himself off again and again, his thoughts alternating between the two hunks—the Turkish fisherman and the Danish soldier.

Either of them would have done to relieve Kari of this burden of virginity to the cocks of men.

It was beyond time, the young man moaned.

* * * *

The Turk’s name was Sami, although they didn’t say much conversationally to each other—didn’t call each other by their names—for the entire time they were together—at least until they were in the throes of fucking. They both had tunnel vision in what they wanted to accomplish. The Turk wanted to jerk the virginity out of the handsome, angelic young man before he could object, and Kari was anxious to get on with it. Most of what Sami conveyed were instructions and demands in the fuck. Most of what Kari verbalized was the pain-pleasure of being relieved of his virginity and then being gang banged. The seasoning to men started right after the initiation. The Turk had put out the “fresh meat” word.

Sami owned a motorcycle as well as the fishing boat and he roared down onto the Kyrenia quay on the bike, beckoned to Kari, and roared back up the hill and the mountain, toward the old abbey town of Bellapais, when the young man hopped on the cycle behind him.

Sami was wearing just coveralls again, although they were white today. They’d been blue the previous night. He had sneakers without socks on his feet. He was hirsute and curly black hair spilled out above the bib of the overalls, around the straps suspending the top on his chest, and in his pits. He was a beautiful man. He had showered and these were probably his best overalls. He’d slapped on too much aftershave, but he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The close-cropped beard looked sexy on him, Kari thought.

All in all, he’d come to party. Kari had whispered to him the previous night in the alley that he’d never had a man’s cock in him, and Sami had come to notch his bedpost with a virgin—and just maybe to make a little cash for himself.

The youth hung on tight behind the Turk as the cycle took the mountain road. Kari encircled the muscular torso with his arms and he lay a hand on the Turk’s basket, which was showing a filling-out life of its own. Halfway up the mountain, the bike went off the road to the east and drove into a vineyard. They came to a stop well inside the vineyard that mounted the mountain in shallow terraces. The spot Sami picked was on one of the terraces, out of sight because of the verdant grape vines from either side and above and with a picturesque view down into the Kyrenia harbor, with its stone castle and then out into the Mediterranean, showing greenish blue water close to land and a deeper blue beyond.

The Turk hadn’t picked the site for its view, though. He’d sought someplace remote, someplace where the wind flowing up from the sea would cover the cries of taking by a virgin.

The deflowering was immediate, a bit bumbling, forceful, and horrific to the virgin, although Kari was keyed up for this, prepared for the first time to be challenging but well wanting to be past the first time. They didn’t speak, but there was a lot of heavy breathing, grunts, and groans from both of them as Sami climbed off the cycle, set the stand, pulled Kari off, and threw the younger man onto the grassy ground between the rows of vines and onto his knees.

The Turk covered the young man from above and behind in a close, controlling embrace. Kari was well-muscled enough but no contest for the Turkish fisherman. The young man was wearing just shorts, briefs, and sandals, and they were stripped off of him in seconds. Similarly, the straps of the Turk’s overall were released, the garment puddled down to the ground, and the Turk stepped out of them and stripped off his briefs in one motion.

Seeing the Turk in erection made Kari shudder and exclaim, “Oh, Shit.” But it wasn’t a “no,” so the Turk kept to the program.

They hadn’t been off the bike for forty seconds before Kari was on his knees, chest and cheek pushed into the grass, and the Turk was on top of him and inside him with no more lubricant than his spit. No condom. The horror of AIDs hadn’t reached Cyprus in 1986, rubbers weren’t considered macho to Turks, and the young man claimed to be pure.

The Turk wasn’t able to stuff himself too far into the youth, though, before he ejaculated from the excitement of taking a gorgeous virgin. Kari howled of the brutal violation when Sami had barely been able to stuff three inches of erection in him. The Turk was built big. In his third withdrawal while battering his way in, he ejaculated, his cum slathering the young man’s hole and smearing on the inner curves of his buttocks.

As far as popping the virgin’s cherry, it was done. Kari was relieved of his virginity to men. This wasn’t satisfying to either one of them, though. Sami pressed his foot to the side of Kari’s head, grasped the young man’s waist between his hands, and gave it a more concerted go, pushing in through the added lubricant of his cum. He managed to sink most of the way in and get of a good dozen pumps while Kari gasped and panted hard, but then he started going soft. His excitement had made Kari’s first time less than stellar.

Kari was a bit disappointed, but he’d known the first time wouldn’t be all that great and he’d wanted to reach and get beyond the first time.

“Önemli değil. öğleden sonramız var—No matter. We have the afternoon,” the Turk said. Kari remained on his knees, cheek to grass, on the ground, panting and trying not to sob.

Sami released Kari and went back to the bike and started unpacking what he’d brought—a blanket, some bread and cheese, and a couple of bottles of wine. Kari rolled onto his back near a row of grape vines and watched the Turk move. His hirsute body was magnificent, Kari thought—muscular and hirsute. The man wasn’t all that handsome, but, to Kari, he was sexy as hell. And he was hung. Kari didn’t know how much of that cock had gotten inside him the first time, but he wanted more of it the next time.

And he wanted a next time, here and now. He wanted the hunky Turk to fuck him until Kari knew he could enjoy it as well as his father obviously did. He wanted this to be the beginning of a lifestyle, not the end of it.

Lying on his back, his feet spread and bent, bare feet pressed into the earth, Kari took his cock in his hand and stroked it. He was hard. He gave Sami a shy, saucy little smile. He wanted the Turk to see him like that. Kari wanted the Turk to know he wanted to take the cock again—hopefully better the next time. After laying out the blanket, the Turk stood over him and smiled down at him, relieved that Kari hadn’t complained about the fumbling of the first time and the fast ejaculation. He took his cock in hand and they watched each other for several moments, each working himself up.

“Tekrar—again,” the Turk growled.

Sami reached down, grabbed Kari’s ankles, and dragged the youth onto the blanket on his back. He spread and bent Kari’s legs, placing his feet flat on the blanket again, and knelt between the young man’s thighs. Leaning over the youth and looking down into his face, he clutched Kari’s throat with his left hand, holding the youth’s head pressed down into the blanket. His right hand went under the young man’s tailbone and his fingers found the hole slathered with his cum. Kari gasped and groaned as fingers entered and worked him. Doing what was natural when this was what the youth wanted, Kari arched his back, lifted his hips to the invading fingers and rocked on them.

“Do it. Fuck me. Put it in. Screw me,” he called out. He wanted to move as quickly as possible past the pain and into the pleasure. He knew there was pleasure. He had heard it from his father while the Danish soldier was fucking him. It was just a matter of experience, of repetition of the act.

The Turk was quite ready for that, though. This time he wanted to do it right. He wanted to get as much pleasure out of this as he could. He wanted the young man to have pleasure too, to worship him, to beg for the Turk’s manly cock.

He’d forget that first time. The sweet piece of tail was still a virgin in his wishes. He would take him properly. Moving both his hands and his lips, Sami worked down the boy’s berry-brown, willowing body, moving his mouth into the boy’s groin and, as Kari groaned, shuddered, and jerked, took the youth’s cock in his mouth. Kari moaned and writhed as the man gave him head, relentlessly working the cock while Kari arched his back and scrabbled his hands at the man’s biceps and then ran his fingers into the black, curly hair on the man’s head, trying, first to push the man away, embarrassed that he might come in his throat and then, with heavy panting holding the man into him, knowing he would come in the man’s throat.

When he had come in Sami’s throat, the Turk worked his mouth and hands up Kari’s body again and moved into position between his legs. Kari was the one encasing the shaft with his hands when he was in position.

“Now, now. Fuck me now!”

“Al onu. Sikimi al!—Take it. Take my cock!”

The Turk slowly forced his way in, spreading the passage with his thick cock, breaching the sphincter, and moving deeper. And then, as Kari moaned, dug his fingernails in the Turk’s biceps, and raised his pelvis to meet the penetration, the cock sank deeper. And then deeper yet.

Kari cried out in a strangled voice, “Yes, yes! Take me!” Then, “Fuck, you’re big! Shit, you’re too big.”

But the Turk’s cock wasn’t too big; it was just right.

“Şimdi seni iyi sikiyorum—I fuck you good now,” the Turk exclaimed. And then he did fuck Kari good.

He wanted to savor this, to prolong it as long as possible, so, when he’d set up a rhythm of plowing, with Kari going with him, moving with the thrusting and murmuring his new pleasure in the act, the Turk showed that he knew how to do this—that he wasn’t the anxious, fumbling fast shooter of the first time, the deflowering, the popping of the virgin’s male cherry. He adjusted the cadence of his thrusts with the sense of the rising of the cum inside him. When he felt he was about to lose control, he suspended the thrusts, and they kissed—on the lips, in the throat, each of them taking a turn in kissing, licking, and nipping each other’s nipples. When he felt the urge to blow taper off, he commenced the thrusting again, causing Kari to gasp, groan, and reach for and squeeze the Turk’s buttocks.

Not all Turkish Cypriots are lovers. Turks are rough, macho men, blessed with good humor but no nonsense in what they take and how they take it. Kari was lucky to have hooked up with a Turk who could also be a lover.

In this way, the dance of the fuck went on for fifteen minutes. Kari was getting the fuck he dreamed about. All good things come to an end, though, and Kari recognized when the Turk’s tensing and jerking was taking him beyond the ability to hold off.

“Now! Now! Give it to me now!” he cried out, clutching the muscles of his passage walls, again and again, to work the man’s shaft.

“Bok! Kahretsin!—Shit! Fuck!” the Turk exclaimed and shot his load—deep inside the youth’s passage.

Both of them panting heavily, Sami rolled off to the side. He turned his head toward Kari and grinned. “Bu iyi oldu. Şimdi dinleniyoruz—That was good. Now we rest.”

He stood, with a groan, and went over to the motorcycle. He broke out a second round of bread, cheese, and wine and brought it over to Kari, who was lying there, stretched out, dazed from the experience. He sat up and took the food and the bottle of wine. Sami had taken a long pull on the wine before handing it to him. As Kari ate and drank, Sami went back to the motorcycle and extracted a bulky mobile phone from somewhere. He looked lustily at Kari while he placed a couple of calls, chattering in Turkish.

He was stroking himself up with one hand while eating and taking long pulls on the second wine bottle with the other. Some twenty minutes later he was in hard erection again.

“Oyun zamanı—Play time,” he said, with a big grin on his face. He sauntered back over to the blanket, swinging the wine bottle, which was only about a third full now. Plopping down beside Kari on his knees, he grabbed the boy’s legs, under his knees, and spread his legs, bending them, and placing Kari’s feet flat on the blanket. He’d thrown the backpack he’d had the provisions in nearby on the blanket and took that now and stuffed it under Kari’s lower back, lifting and rolling up the young man’s pelvis.

Kari cried out, “What the fuck!?” as, kneeling between the youth’s knees, a big grin on his face, the Turk started working the neck of the wine bottle into the young man’s ass. Kari reflexively tried to sit up but Sami slapped him across the face and clutched his throat, holding his head down on the blanket with one hand, while fucking his ass with the wine bottle with the other. The remaining wine in the bottle slushed around inside Kari’s passage and dribbled down his inner thighs. Kari struggled at first, but, realizing that was useless and being overcome with the sexiness of this, he lay back and relaxed as the Turk went ever deeper with the wine bottle in the youth’s passage, pulling it out and then sliding it back in. Out and in. Again and again, as Kari groaned and rocked his hips against the invasion.

After several minutes of this, the Turk had had enough of the game. He pulled the bottle out, rolled over on his back, rolling the young man with him, and put Kari on his cock in the Cowboy position, facing him.

“Fuck yourself,” he commanded, and Kari did as demanded, pressing his fists into the man’s pecs and rising and falling on the shaft.

This was the position they were in when the other Turks—the three men, ranging in age from the twenties to fifties, all lean and well-muscled—arrived on their motorcycles. These were the phone calls the Turk had made. Sami held out his hand while the three men ogled Kari, pleased at what they saw, and put money in Sami’s hand.

Without ceremony, they pulled Kari off Sami’s cock, laid him on his back on the blanket, raised and spread his legs, and while two held him down from the sides each time, they fucked him in the missionary position in rotation, each getting a slice of the first-time youth.

* * * *

The Danish UN solider, Bjorn, was sitting at a table on the Kyrenia quay, drinking beer, when Sami returned Kari on his motorcycle. When Kari had hobbled off the bike and the Turk had roared away, he looked around the quay in somewhat of a daze, taking a few moments to pick out Bjorn.

Bjorn immediately understand what had happened. Kari was shuffling and was disheveled and disoriented, but he was smiling a little grin and he had the glow of satiation about him. Bjorn hadn’t been first. He’d been leery about doing the honors with the young man, although he ached for him and had done the father primarily for the chance to get to the youth.

“Is it done?” he called out to Kari.

“Yes.”

“Are you sorry for it?”

“No. I’m relieved.”

The soldier stood, walked over to Kari, and gently enclosed his wrist in his hand. “Come. Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said in a soothing voice.

When Kari’s father, Hadid, returned to the hotel a half hour later and entered his room, he heard the sounds coming from the adjacent room—Kari’s room. He stood in the doorway briefly, taking in what he was seeing. They were on the bed, at the foot. Bjorn, naked, was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning over it. Two shapely legs—Kari’s legs—were spread and raised, seeming to rise up from either side of the soldier’s hips. Prominent were the soldier’s bulbous butt cheeks, clenching and expanding, clenching and expending, to the cadence of the fuck.

The soldier was taking it slow, giving and taking as much pleasure as he could.

The father absorbed this without surprise. He had known that Kari was ripe for it and about to explode. He had brought the young man to Cyprus to get beyond this beaded curtain into the lifestyle he knew his son wanted—indeed that he himself had chosen. He also had seen the looks Bjorn had been giving the eighteen-year-old youth. Hadid was just glad that he’d been covered by the hunky Dane first.

This must be Kari’s first time, Hadid thought. Bjorn must be popping his male cherry. Well, more power to them, Hadid thought. He came into the room, sat down in a chair away from the bed, unzipped and released himself. He sat there, masturbating, as the Danish hunk plowed his son. The sounds Kari was making assured Hadid that the young man was getting what he wanted. He would wait patiently for his turn—for his turn with his ripe son.

 

William, 39, raises cattle in Southwestern Ontario, Canada. His herd currently includes 7 bulls, 23 cows and 9 calves. These animals graze on pastures in Essex County, about 30 miles east of Windsor (where I was born). William’s wife gave him three sons: David, Dexter and Dominic. She never fully recovered from the birth of these triplets. The couple’s sexual relations became less frequent and ended up dying out, largely because the wife could no longer tolerate the penetration of a huge cock into her vagina. William is equipped like a bull. His nickname has long since changed from Bill to Bull.

As for the boys’ names, they were chosen at random. They nevertheless have a special meaning. David has deep Biblical roots and means “beloved”. That’s probably why he has a special place in his mother’s heart. Dexter derives from the Latin and obviously means “the right hand”. The boy jerks off with his right hand. Also of Latin origin, Dominic means “belonging to a Lord or a Master”. His father is the master, as we will see further down.

The average erect penis girth measures 4.9 inches (12.6 cm). When rock hard, Bulls’s mammoth tool is around 6,6 inches (16.8 cm). He did try to fuck another woman, but not a single cunt wanted his enormity. Bull learned between the branches that there is a gay sauna in Windsor and that some men’s asses know how to appreciate an extra-large cock. He therefore goes regularly to the Etna’s Steam Bath on 563 Brant Street in Windsor[1]. It didn’t take long for Bull to discover that he was in demand.

As a farmer, William has witnessed male-male mounts. This behavior is frequent in steers and is known as “buller syndrome”. It accounts for significant economic losses in steers, as repeated mounts can cause injuries of different types, including death, and also a decrease of weight gain, thus affecting the quality of the bull’s meat. Another thing that the rancher learned because of his work is fisting, reaching into a cow’s ass. It is done to find out the pregnancy status of the cow. Through the rectal wall, which is really pretty thin in a cow, you can reach down and feel the cow’s uterus. That helps dairymen manage their herds. If the cow isn’t bred, they want to know so they can make sure it gets fucked. Pretty much every cow has been “armed” at one time or another. It’s a common practice because it’s the cheapest way to determine pregnancy.

Even though he often hangs out in a gay sauna, William does not consider himself a typical homosexual man. When he fucks Tom, Dick and Harry, the Bull thinks of his three boys. They are the ones he would like to have manly fun with. The time has finally arrived, as the triplets celebrate their 16th birthday this year, raising them to legal age of consent in Canada. William does not consider man-son sexual activities to be incest if there is mutual agreement and no physical harm. He senses that David, Dexter and Dominic are of the same opinion.

Daddy even discovered in the triplets’ room an issue of Drum, an American gay men’s culture and news magazine featuring homoerotic photographs. The publication’s title was inspired by a quote by Henry David Thoreau, famous American naturalist, essayist, poet, and philosopher, that appeared in every edition: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears the beat of a different drummer.” This is the case for William and his triplets.

I’m a twin and was almost born in 1948 like the triplets (my birthday is December 30th, 1947). David, Dexter and Dominic were born on March 16th. At birth, the doctor asked their mother if he should circumcise them. As her husband is uncut, this was all new to her, so she replied: “do what you think is best”. He had a preference for removing the foreskin. At 16, the cut triplets have already reached the average erect penis size in Canada, 6.19 inches or 15.72 cm, according to research compiled in 2022 by the UK-based company From Mars who ranked penis size in 86 countries[2]. Canada ranked 12th, beating the United States (59th) and the United Kingdom (66th).

David, Dexter and Dominic are identical triplets that you could classify between handsome and gorgeous looking: medium size built, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, slightly hairy chest. Result: it’s hard to tell them apart. Well, David is a little more lovely; remember that is name means “beloved”. Domenic looks a little shyer; remember that his name means “belonging to a Master”. As for Dexter, he always stands on the right of you. When they are naked, it is much easier to tell them apart. David has firm tight shaved balls and a cute pink rosebud. Domenic has a soft nut sack and a regular brownish love canal. Dexter has hairy low hangers and a huge fuck hole.

The triplets celebrate their golden birthday, turning 16 on March 16. For the occasion, their father as planned a very special gift, a place of their own. He has contracted the neighbor to build a small annex to the barn, large enough to accommodate them when they want some privacy or engage in some activity not under the watchful eye of their mother. Bill or Bull senses that David, Dexter and Dominic have an urge to be intimate with their daddy. As for the gift that the triplets receive from their mother, it is exactly what they wished for: tight faded blue jeans that make them feel fuckin sexy!

After having blown the 16 candles on their birthday cake and eaten a good slice of it, the boys invite their daddy to give them a tour of the new annex. It’s a pretty large open space except for the toilet. Bull has made sure that the shower can hold at least four guys. Mattresses have just been delivered and the triplets arrange them to form a huge rectangle cushion, with one objective in mind: a 69 foursome. After having caressed and kissed each other, they get naked and position themselves so that David sucks Dexter who is sucking Domenic, the latter swallowing daddy Bull’s uncut thick cock. Slurps on iron shafts alternate with moans of ecstatic pleasure. The foursome is in perfect harmony and ropes of jizz explode at the same time. All partners instinctively keep a spoon of man juice to share in a hot French four-way kissing exchange.

Bull and his boys meet almost on a daily basis in the annex. The smell of hay and manure from the attached barn excites them. David, Dexter and Domenic have just one idea in mind: satisfy daddy by honoring his strong libido. Bull wants to fuck and Dexter’s shit hole is big enough to accommodate his mammoth cock. Ever since Dexter saw his daddy pee in front of him on the farm a few weeks ago, he has fantasized about the feeling of that rod in his hungry ass. He now floats on cloud nine. He not only gets fucked by a Bull but sucks the dick of David and Domenic while being pounded.

In Canada, Father’s Day is celebrated on the third Sunday of June. As a gift of appreciation, the triplets offer a jockstrap to their daddy. It is black with the words PRIME BEEF written in white capital letters on the back of the waist band, just above the ass. This gift is timely because Bull dreams of being fucked. Not like he did it himself in the sauna bath or with Dexter. No, he wants a double penetration accompanied by a cock to suck. He puts on his jockstrap, caresses the triplets in their tight faded blue jeans, feeling how their dick hardens just by the sensation of denim on a bare crotch. David and Dominic then position themselves to shove their cock simultaneously into the huge hole of their Daddy Bull who moans with pleasure. Dexter comes upfront to be sucked by his father. Holy Fuck! Two holes filled at the same time. Three family dicks satisfied.

When he visits the boys in their annex, daddy Bull likes to show off his hairy body, and attract attention on his huge butt. Today he wants to experience being “armed”. He wants David, Dominic and Dexter to take turns in fist-fucking him, all the way to the elbow. He has brought grease to lubricate his unsatiable hole. Cows may moo to keep track of their calves, but Bill grunts and snorts to show how content he is. Like a bull challenging other rivals, he even bellers loudly.

Feeling David, Dexter and Domenic inside himself provides a great sense of satisfaction to daddy Bull. Very strong bonds are established, so much so that William would like to encourage all the dads in the world to let themselves be penetrated by their son(s). When consensual and mutual, the so-called incest crime or sin can just take its hole, pun included!

---

[1] Etna’s Steam Bath was the first gay bathhouse to be raided in Canada. In April 1964, nine men from Windsor and the states of Michigan and Ohio were charged as “found-ins” (people discovered at the scene in a bawdy house) at Etna’s Steam Bath. The owner could have been sentenced to a two-year prison term, but was given a sentence of one year in jail after changing his plea to guilty following eyewitness testimony during the trial.

[2] https://www.vancouverisawesome.com/local-news/canada-men-biggest-average-penises-size-world-5360758

I tried not to go wild. I still was married and still had my normal corporate guy life in Kansas City. 

But doing porn turned out to be addictive. It was the combination of a deep exhibitionist streak I was discovering in myself and the access to incredibly hot men willing to suck me or get fucked by my big tool. It made me feel like a total stud… less middle-aged, I guess.

And work trips were the perfect cover. I really was doing the road warrior thing for my company, so I wasn’t lying to Kate THAT much. But I did sometimes add a night to my travels. 

Like the week after Easter. I had a business trip to Denver, but I added an extra evening and squeezed in a quick connector flight to San Francisco on my dime with miles. Muscle Pup Mike, my son’s friend and escort/pornstar buddy, set me up with a versatile OnlyFans star there. I shot two scenes with him, actually, one oral, one with me masked as we had a nice, long 50-minute fuck scene. I didn’t feel a deep chemistry with Kevin, aka “Jeff Reed,” but I felt a deep chemistry with the two cameras that were on us. Besides, sex with a muscular 28-year-old hunk was hard to beat.

Turns out, the next night would beat it. I flew to Denver bright and early in the morning and had my sales meeting all day. I was rolling my business-style carry on into my hotel room right around dinner. I undid my tie and sat down to unlace my shoes before calling Kate to check in. 

Yeah, I felt pretty bad knowing I was stepping out behind her back. I’d deal with that guilt later. Either stopping porn cold turkey or making a break or separation with my wife. At this point I wasn’t ready to do either.

I wasn’t a frequent poster, but managed a video every 2-3 weeks. And I had a growing following of fans willing to pay a modest subscription for just that. Sure, I got some comments complaining that I never took my mask off, but apparently I had the body and blond-furred looks a lot of guys went for. And my cock size helped – a lot. I was careful about not talking on camera, or I just edited those parts out, but I’d learned to be verbal with my grunts, to show appreciation for my sucker/bottom and to let viewers get that thrill. It worked.

I sat, alone in that quiet hotel room, thinking just how wild my double life had become, and I fiddled with my phone again. Chicago was an hour ahead and now would probably be a good time to call. I pulled up Travis’s contact and FaceTimed him.

“Hey Dad,” my son greeted.

“Hey,” I said, leaning back and feeling my boner ride up in the crotch of my trousers. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time, I hope?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just getting back from the gym.” Indeed, he had a workout zip-up on and I could see the familiar kitchen from his condo in the back.

“All sweaty?” I teased.

That got a laugh out of my son. He was surprised how horny I was sometimes, how much I’d leaned into this weird affair we had going on. “Something like that. How’d your shoot go?”

“Real well,” I replied. “Kevin is a real professional. Made it easy.”

“Just a professional?” Travis asked, with a teasing smile on his cute face.

“Just fucking,” I said. “Not a ton of chemistry, I’m afraid, but I think I got some good footage for the next two vids.” I’d always sent Travis the digital files via encryption, and he did the editing magic on the material. As amazing as my son was at being on-screen talent, he also had a knack for making great porn behind the camera.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Dad,” he said. “But I think you’re a natural adult performer.”

I smiled. “Is that what the kids call it?” I joked.

That made my son laugh. I loved seeing and hearing his laugh. “OK… you’re a natural porn star, Dad…. You know, it’s really hot to say that. I get so hard watching you perform, you know.”

My throat got dry. Travis knew how to work me up. “Jesus, Trav. You have no idea how much I’ve watched your videos.”

That made my son laugh again, those dimples forming. “I have a pretty good idea, Dad. You’ve told me before.”

“I lied,” I teased. “I figured if I told you the real number, you’d get freaked out.”

“Turned on is more like it, Dad,” Travis said. “Why don’t you show me how much you like em. You hard now?”

“Rock hard,” I said. I turned the phone down to show off the rod forming a ridge in my trousers.

“Fuck,” Travis hissed. “My dad has a real porn star dick. I have a shoot in a couple of hours. I’ll definitely be thinking of your cock.”

“Who’s it with?” I asked. This was the wild phase Trav and I were at now. Father and son, lovers, flirts, and professional colleagues in the adult entertainment business. 

“Bud and Spike,” he said. I recognized the screen names of two muscle daddies from Dallas, into the more hardcore stuff. 

I made a wince of an expression. “Go easy with those guys, buddy,” I said. “For real.” I felt strangely protective of my son. Which was weird, because in general he was the one looking out for me as I began doing porn more regularly.

Travis smiled. “I will, Dad. Promise. We’re planning a more vanilla scene than they normally do.” He gave me a wink. “Listen, I gotta go get ready, actually.”

“All right, buddy,” I said. I wished we had time for some phone sex because just talking to Travis was turning me on big time. “I can’t wait to see your scene. And I’ll be in Chicago in a couple of weeks. We’ll catch up then, OK?”

“You bet, Dad,” he said. “Love ya.”

“Love ya, too, Big Guy.”

We hung up. 

I let out a hiss of air. I was horny now. Turns out “Jeff Reed” hadn’t drained me. I did have a back up idea. There was some University of Colorado kid who’d been emailing me on the anon account Travis set up for me and linked to my OnlyFans. Call me a narcissist, but I’d been eating up the fan mail, and something about this college dude Bryan won me over. Maybe it was the pics he sent. Cute as fuck, brown haired, boy-next-door looks. And the nude pics that showed a surprisingly built body for a college kid – either a jock or someone who hit the college gym regularly. Smooth body with just a dusting of a treasure trail, creamy white skin, washboard abs, hard cock, amazing bubble ass.

Or maybe it was the request that I hit him up if I was ever in the Denver area.

So far I’d only done pro-amateur porn stars in the OF circuit my son and MusclePup Mike worked in. Some of it was the self-justification that it wasn’t fully emotional cheating, just porn I was doing. Some of it was caution. All the arrangements went through Mike and because of my mask, no one knew my identity.

But I was horny now and sent this Bryan kid a message. I didn’t expect a reply, but it was worth a shot. I set down my phone and undressed to take a quick shower. It was only 6:30, but it had been a long day.

There was a message waiting for me. “God yes, man,” Bryan wrote. “I could be there in about an hour and a half,” he wrote. Then almost nervously, there was a follow up. “God, I must seem overly eager. But fuck you’re so hot. Let me know what works for you.”

“How bout 8:30?” I typed back and gave my hotel name and room number. I wanted to get some food in me. 

 

“Awesome. Yeah. See you soon,” came the almost immediate reply.

I had only business casual clothes packed, so I got dressed to grab a bite at a restaurant near my hotel. I got back to my room with about ten minutes to spare. I brushed my teeth and checked my appearance in the mirror. I wasn’t crazy about getting older, I had to admit, but I could see the “DILF” look that Travis and Mike were always raving about. Well-preserved was the expression, I suppose.

I was actually a little nervous when I heard the knock. I had no business fooling around with a guy like this. Not making a porn vid but actually having a cheating hook up. The messed up thing is that most guys would consider the videos a worse infraction, but this felt naughtier in a way.

Bryan looked great. Better than great. He was cuter than his pictures, and I think his nerves made him more attractive to me. He forced a smile but was shaking. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I smiled. “Come in, bud.”

He was shorter than me, and his size made his collegiate muscle look more compact on his build. Maybe not collegiate wrestler exactly, but definitely that wrestler body type. A little thick, even. MusclePup Mike would have called him a twunk.

“I didn’t know what you’d look like,” Bryan said softly. His gray eyes were taking me in.

I remembered now he’d never seen me outside of my videos, all masked up. “You came over anyway,” I observed.

“Oh yeah,” he enthused. “You’re my favorite porn star, hands down.” He blushed but didn’t stop gushing. “You probably know this… I guess most guys don’t pay to watch your videos, but I subscribed to your site so I could email you.”

“For real?” I laughed.

“Yeah,” Bryan replied, that nervous smile growing bigger. “You’re not on Twitter or Insta,” he explained. His eyes swept up and down my frame. “God, you’re even hotter in person. I knew you’d be hot, but… wow.”

I was eating up his flattery. “You’re not so bad yourself, buddy… bring it in…” I held up my arms to gesture him to come in for a kiss. He did. He was nervous and that turned me on for some reason. But once we started making out, Bryan got real into it, meeting my tongue with his, before practically sucking me into his mouth. 

His hands were feeling it up, tentatively at first, then all over. He chuckled as he pulled back so he could feel me up better. I stood there and let his hands roam over my button-down shirt and the gym-toned muscle underneath. At that moment I was VERY glad for the personal trainer Travis set me up with. 

“I hope you don’t mind my saying,” Bryan said, “But it’s so wild to be with a porn star.”

“Don’t mind at all, buddy,” I hissed. I was now experiencing the other thrill of doing porn. I knew I was into the exhibitionism of it all, but now I was feeling the hero worshop, the adoration of a young guy like this. I was rock hard. 

He gulped as I reached down to undo my khakis, unzipping them and reaching in to haul out my dong. “I guess you really like my cock, then, huh?” I growled. 

This wasn’t me. At least it wasn’t Brad Connors. Married father of three. Road warrior corporate guy. But being MaskedDaddy gave me the sexual confidence and freedom to be someone else. 

“Fuck yeah,” Bryan gasped as he saw my prick. “That cock’s so fucking big…” His eyes were wide, taking in my size before he looked up at me. “OK, if I touch it?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, buddy,” I said. “That’s why you came over isn’t it?”

He nodded, like a chastised kid. Then tentatively he stepped in again and reached forward, like he was afraid of being branded by a hot poker. But once his fingers made contact, the hesitation was gone. The college dude circled his fingers and round me, griping my hardon and gently stroking a couple inches of it to get a feel of the girth and heft. “You don’t know how much I’ve jerked off to your videos,” he said. “I wasn’t gonna admit to that you, but fuck….” His voice was heavy in his ragged breathing but still had that frat-bro collegiate kind of tone.

“I think we talked about you sucking that dick,” I grunted. In our texts, Bryan had offered a blow job, and his presence now was making me really want this. In a surprising way, his realness was making me click with the college kid more than I did with a megahot porn star. Maybe it was the opposite of what Bryan was feeling, where he was living out his porn dream. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. But he gave me a sheepish shrug. “I, um, don’t have a lot of experience.”

I patted his cheek. “Give it your best, bud. Please. Daddy’s really fucking horny.” Yep, this was porn me talking, but it was the magic words for Bryan, who couldn’t get down on his knees fast enough.

The young stud actually whimpered as he pulled my dick to his face and began licking it. It was slobbery and impetuous, and his attempt to take me into mouth was more urgent than skilled. 

“Easy, buddy…” I urged as he choked a little on my size. “Daddy’s got a big cock… take your time.”

He nodded and moaned around my prick, flashing those gray eyes up, a little teary. Fuck. 

I wouldn’t say he got the hang of, but he got a lot more comfortable. Slowly, he sucked me, a few inches at a time, working up the focus to get an extra one back into his throat. The young dude was so excited to blow me, and I was loving this. Slowly I stroked his hair and encouraged him. “That’s it, sport… you don’t need the training wheels do ya? You go right for the big ones. OH FUCK, that feels nice.”

“Yeah?” Bryan asked as he spit out my cock and swallowed the excess spit. I could tell he wanted to make sure he was sucking me right, but more than that he struck me as a young man who craved positive feedback in sex. 

“You’re doing great, buddy,” I said. 

There was something about this connection which was night and day different than “Jeff Reed.” Bryan was a real guy, a college stud eager for me and not just playing out sex for the camera. And yet…

“You interested in filming this, Bryan? It’s SO hot to watch you, buddy.”

I could see two reactions in his face at once. A fearful shock at the idea. And an excitement to even consider it. “Oh man,” he responded, not giving me a hint which one was the bigger emotion.

I slowly stroked my rod in front of his face, working in his spit over my dong and letting it get steel hard for his gaze. I had toyed with using viagra for my shoots, but even with my size I didn’t have an issue getting real hard erections like this. I just loved sex too much. 

“If it helps, I packed a spare mask,” I offered.

Maybe another dude would have wondered why I had a mask with me, much less more than one mask. But Bryan had been used to seeing me in one, so maybe it just seemed normal to him. 

“This is crazy,” he said, his fearful look breaking into a smile. 

“Is that a yes or a no?” I asked, gently tapping his cheek with my dong. 

“Yes,” he muttered excitedly before taking ne into his mouth once more.

I let him work me for a few seconds then pulled back. I went to my carryon back and retrieved the masks. I wouldn’t need one, I suppose, but I tossed both over Bryan’s way while I got my portable tripod, a compact digital camera, and a spare cameraphone, an old Iphone I used for extra handheld footage. 

I was worried I was killing the mood setting everything up and fiddling with the lights. But I loved shooting porn, and if anything my dick was harder in anticipation with shooting a different kind of scene. Me with an amateur costar. Even if Bryan wasn’t an experienced I just knew this would be a hot video. And if not, I’d enjoy jerking off to it.

Fortunately, Bryan seemed excited too. I could see the excitement in his eyes, even behind the mask. He’d taken his shirt off, maybe to be less identifiable but was on his knees still, hands braced on his thighs. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in one of your vids,” he said. Yeah, the dude was into this. 

I sauntered back, my dick leading the way. “If you’re not comfortable with the results, we don’t have to post anything,” I said, remembering how important that veto power was for my comfort level for my first vid with my son. “Otherwise, I’ll take this as your consent.”

“Got it,” he nodded. 

The second his lips touched my prick again, I let out a gasp. He looked up at me, excited, and I took in his green eyes looking up through the mask holes. I pointed the phone camera at him to capture that. I wasn’t gonna shoot that angle the whole time, since I preferred to enjoy getting head instead of playing cameraman the whole time. But the snapshots of him looking up would add to the effect.

Bryan’s technique wasn’t better this time, but his enthusiasm had tripled, at least. I set down the phone and eased my stance back, my posture upright. I was still in my business casual attire as this horny college kid blew me. I urged him to go slower at first with a quick deep grunt.

I heard the guy moan around my meat as something relaxed in his throat and he was able to more steadily take more of my dong into his throat. Working me up and down, I reached behind his head and massaged his scalp through the mask, gently urging him deeper. 

“Yes,” I choked in response. “Suck me.” I’d gotten pretty good at deguising my voice. Using my porn voice. “Suck Daddy.”

That did it. Bryan pulled off for a quick breath, then descended all the way down. I’m a big guy, and even some of the OnlyFans studs had a hard time swallowing my sword. But they weren’t feeling the crazy sexual thrill this kid was. 

He held a second then it was too much, and he pulled off with a sputtering cough. I could see his eyes watering even through the mask holes. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, as he tried to regain composure.

“It’s OK… take your time,” I said in my normal voice. Travis would have to edit that out. All for the best. I gave Bryan a second to catch his breath and then I leaned down and met him for a sensual kiss. 

“You’re doing real good,” I said. Then leaning up, I offered my hard dong again. It had gone down a little, but was still pretty heavy. “Ready for more?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his gray eyes looking back up at me. 

His mouth on me got me rock hard once more. I pulled out some to let the camera catch my full hardon, then pushed back in between his wet lips. Bryan was novice, but that was OK. I was turned on from a change of pace from the OnlyFans dudes. This was a real guy, young and eager. I let him suck and get into sucking.

“Yeah,” I grunted, I ran my fingers through his hair again and took the chance to push him down on my meat some more. 

Byran was up for the challenge. He grunted around my prick but his throat relaxed and swallowed more of my thickness. 

I started cumming. I wanted to ride out the orgasm in his college kid’s throat but instead I pulled out and shot a couple of jets onto his mask and his lips before pushing back in just a few inches to let him suckle the remaining dribbles of semen. 

I caught my breath a half second then picked up the cameraphone again. I hadn’t taken too much handheld footage, so now I got a good view of Bryan slurping on my sated meat, licking up and down and outright worshipping my cock. Thankfully I wasn’t too sensitive after nutting, and even if I lost a little of my rigidity, my dick kept a heavy firm meatiness that looked good. 

I finally pulled back and turned both cameras off. “You were amazing, buddy,” I said with a smile. 

Already Bryan was pulling his mask off. I was glad. The guy was real fucking cute. “Dream come true for me,” he said.

I could tell he was still horned up and at full sexual arousal from servicing me. “Get on the bed, kiddo,” I urged. “Lie back.”

He didn’t seem to know what was going on but he complied. His body was shaking some as I undid his jeans and yanked them down. 

“What are we gonna do?” he asked with some apprehension. Still he raised each leg to let me pull off his jeans. And his boxers showed a thick boner beneath the cotton. 

“Your turn to get off,” I said, not really answering his question. 

Still, Bryan nodded and hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his boxers to slide them down. I let him take them off as I stepped into the bathroom to get lube out of my toiletties bag. 

Bryan was now lying back on the bed, fully naked, his creamy white muscle looking even better than I anticipated now that he was stripped nude. 

“You an athlete?” I asked as I flipped open the cap on the lube.

Bryan’s eyes were nervously only the lube. I think I knew what he was worried about, and a part of me enjoyed playing with his nervousness. I’ll give him credit, he put on a brave face as his eyes met mine to answer me. “Yeah. Wrestling.””

My guess had been spot on. “It shows,” I said. “You have an amazing body.”

“Thanks,” he said, watching me get on the bed, me making a show of drizzling some lube on his hardon. His dick twitched, untouched, he was so turned on. “You have more the football build.”

“Baseball was my sport,” I answered. “And golf. But my trainer has helped me bulk up.”

“You’re my fantasy,” he said softly. “The whole package. None of the guys know I’m into this, though.” I could read in his face that he wasn’t sure if he should be getting emotionally open like this. 

I patted his thigh and set down the lube on the night stand with my other hand. I was fully dress, with my cock sticking out of the fly of my khakis still. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get off again, but I knew I could. Bryan was hot as fuck, and I was grooving on his clear attraction to me.

“A shame,” I winked, trying to make the conversation sexy again. “Maybe you could have some fun. With you coach, too.”

That got a laugh from him. Bryan had a sexy smile. “I’ve definitely thought of Coach. A lot.”

I rubbed his legs some more more, outright caressing them now. His quads were solid as fuck, hard brawn that contrasted with the soft collegiate fur. I copped a feel of his ball sac, lightly haired and ran my fingers up the lubey length of his shaft. 

“Lift your legs, bud,” I urged, my tone friendly even as my words were commanding.

He got that deer in the headlights look. “I’ve never done this,” Bryan said softly. 

I had a good idea what he meant. “You a virgin?” I asked. My eyes doing their best friendly look I could manage as I played with his hard dick and his balls. Not stroking him, more exploring his rigid younger dick. Getting him excited to play more.

“For fucking, yeah…” he replied. “Sorry.”

I don’t think I realized till then how much I wanted to tap this hot wrestler’s ass. Maybe his innocence was fueling some of my desire, too. “Not gonna do anything you’re not ready for buddy,” I said. “Come on, just lift your legs for Daddy.”

Maybe that was the magic word, because Bryan leaned back and raised his legs up.

“You can pull em back,” I instructed, taking a good look before leaning forward and crouching down.

“Holy FUCK!” the kid gasped at the first swipe of my tongue. His hair down there was light, and I enjoyed the contrast with hairier guys or even the OnlyFans dudes who shaved smooth. It was a delight to lick up and down the trench and then focus more on his tight pucker. 

“Jesus,” Bryan gasped. He wasn’t naturally verbal, but I could tell his mind was being blown. Surprised, maybe a little ticklish but he definitely loved getting rimmed. 

I pulled back. That ring was drum tight all right. It made me realize I’d never eaten out a cherry hole before. My son’s certainly wasn’t virgin. “Go ahead and stroke off,” I urged. I relished the ability to speak in my normal voice now that the cameras were off, even as some of my Masked Daddy persona came out anyway. “I want you to come kiddo.”

I watched as he excitedly gripped his boner and start to stroke it. Then I dove back in. Not just rimming but fully eating him out, munching the tightness of his asshole.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” the kid gasped. I knew his orgasm was starting. I held onto the back of his meaty thighs and even pushed back a little to angle him perfectly to got to town with my tongue and my sucking mouth. 

“NMNGGH!” came the grunt of his cum. Bryan’s whole body was tensing up and I knew he was giving up his load in a big way. 

Indeed as I pulled back I saw that beautiful creamy white wrestler muscle sprayed with splotches of his sperm. I began licking it up off his abs and chest, saving it in my mouth before I finally met him in a kiss to share it.

The snowballing caught him by surprise but he was way into it, accepting his own cum then pushing it back into my mouth, our tongues working it back and forth and frothing it up with our own saliva. 

He had a big, content smile on his face when finally parted, swallowing what little seed was left on our tongues. “I thought…” he started then stopped himself. 

“I know, buddy,” I said. I patted his chest gently. “I won’t lie… I came THIS close to pushing your boundaries.”

He nodded, emotionally raw. I could tell he half wanted me to. But only half. “I know. I don’t know how, but I could tell.”

His hand reached up and ran along my arm through my button down shirt. “I’ll probably be kicking myself for not going all the way. But I wasn’t ready,” he said.

“It was all great, buddy,” I assured him. 

“I should go,” he said. “I got a long drive back to Boulder.”

I pulled back and gave him one last pat as I eyed up his nakedness one more time. Bryan was the real deal. Not a “jock” for pay. I felt a strange emotional connection even with the sexual chemistry. I’d have to process why I was feeling that. 

For now, I let him up and I went to piss while he got dressed again. When I stepped back from the bathroom, he was mostly dressed again, and had a dreamy, moody expression.

“Thanks for that… fuck I don’t even know your name.”

“Will ‘Daddy’ do?” I asked with a wink.

“Guess it will have to,” he said with resignation. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

I stepped up for a final kiss, then I showed him to the hotel room door. 

***

I was glad Bryan didn’t sleep over. I needed a good rest and I had a busy schedule with my client visit the next day. 

It felt like naughty fun messaging Bryan when I got a chance, though. It started off with “had a great time” kind of texts, but Bryan admitted how he wished he’d gone all the way. 

“Maybe if you’re in town again, I’ll have the courage,” he admitted.

“I’m in town another night if you manage to get that courage, kiddo.”

There was silence on his end. Like an hour and a half before I got another text, and even then it was a half hour before I had a break after my afternoon presentation. 

“Sorry,” Bryan wrote. “Was in class and my prof goes apeshit if we’re on our phones LOL.”

I texted. “I worried I’d spooked you.”

This time the reply was quicker. “Dude, you don’t know how horny I’ve been all day. You’re definitely not spooking me.”

I bit my lip and looked around. I probably looked like I was doing business texts on my phone. But fuck I was getting horny too. Somehing about this Bryan kid got under my skin. “Is that a yes?” I wrote. “You gonna give me your cherry?”

I was pushing boundaries now for sure, but Bryan seemed up for it now, more than the previous night. “I wanna. Yeah.”

“Daddy wants to get in your hole SO bad, buddy.” Then, “I’ll go easy on you.”

“God yes,” came his reply. “I’m hard as fuck now.”

God this was gonna happen. One more boundary to push. “Will you let me fuck you on camera?”

There was a pause now. Then, “Masked?”

“As you like,” I wrote, almost hoping Bryan wouldn’t wear one, even if I knew he would. To coax him, I added, “I’ll tell you my first name if you let me film us.”

“Deal. LOL.”

I looked up. Folks were filing back into the conference room. I hoped my chubbed cock wouldn’t show. “I gotta go. But maybe plan for 8:30? I have a work dinner before.”

“God yes. I can’t believe we’re going to do this.”

“We’re going to do it, Kiddo.” I assured him. “I want you so bad.”

I got a blushing emoji in return and had to smile. “All right,” he wrote. “Talk later.”

I went into my meeting and was able to get my mind off Bryan’s creamy smooth wrestler build and his cherry hole. Somehow. 

I checked my messages after we wrapped up, before heading off to a business dinner. It was close to my hotel thankfully and these things never ran late. I hoped to see a message from Bryan, but there was nothing. 

I did google some instructions for preparing to bottom. With the OnlyFans guys and my own son, that routine was down pat, but a newbie like Bryan could use some guidance, and I wanted the ease and comfort of topping a clean hole. I forwarded the site to Bryan.

I held off to one glass of wine during dinner. I wanted a clear head for later. By 7:40 I’d paid the check on my corporate card and bid good night to my client contacts. I had to laugh at myself by how excited I was to get back to my hotel. I did have time to stop at an office supply store and pick up a spare small camera. I figured this scene would be worth the extra vantage point. 

Bryan texted when he was on his way. I stripped down from my business clothes and hung them up in the closet. I was rock hard already, and dripping in anticipation. I hadn’t felt this excited since my last time with my son. I took a quick shower and put on the plush hotel robe, tying it to cover up my midsection. 

I spent the rest of the time setting up the cameras. The lighting wasn’t perfect but it was enough. 

The knock made me realize I was a little nervous myself. I’d gotten comfortable doing porn, maybe a little too comfortable, but taking Bryan’s cherry felt like a certain responsibility. I wanted it to be an incredible experience for him, and I was realizing I was totally green when it came to easing a guy out of his virginity. 

Still, the sight of him made my heart beat. He was just so fucking cute and hunky. Particularly was we realized each other was nervous. 

“Hey, Daddy,” he said stepping in.

“Brad,” I said. “You can call me Brad. Or Daddy,” I smirked. 

Our kiss was soft, surprisingly soft given the act we were about to do. 

“You good for his, buddy?” I asked, running my hands along his outer arms.

He nodded. “I’m nervous as hell, but I’ll be kicking myself if I don’t do it.” 

“You feel like stripping down?” I asked. “There’s a mask for you on the table.”

I pulled mine on and then went around made sure all the cameras were on. I was pleased to see Bryan’s naked body, that thick muscle lean and compact with just a dusting of hair. God, even with that build he looked every bit the 20 year old he was. Like I say, the real deal. 

And I was doubly pleased to see him throwing hard. That thick five spike standing up from his lightly furred crotch, nerves notwithstanding. I watched him pull on his mask. It was a shame the viewers wouldn’t see how cute he was but his body rounded out that college jock look for sure. 

I pointed the camera at him. “So… we’re about to have sex for a video that will be released through OnlyFans. Do you agree for me to share what I film?”

I half expected some questions, but he just nodded. “Yes.”

“Good boy,” I said with a laugh. That made Bryan chuckle, too, which made me glad. “Why don’t you lie on the bed, face down?”

I could sense his nervousness. Maybe he anticipated face to face for his first time. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll ease you into this.”

He nodded silently and then complied, walking over to the hotel bed, while I filmed him with his natural jock gait. It was hot as fuck, seeing him strut and that ass of his work. Then his full body stretching out face down. 

The other cameras would get a good angle – one angled on each side nightstand, the other from behind where I stood, just a little off to the side. I held the camera phone as I stepped closer, letting the camera rove over his strong back and amazing ass, up and down his legs. Maybe more jock-worship footage than we’d use, but Travis could work his magic. 

Finally, I stepped back and propped the camera phone off to the side. maybe it would work for another angle. Bryan turned back to look at me, and I got off on how his back muscle flexed with his motion. Stepping up, I ran my hands along his calves, working up the length as I climbed on the bed. 

I knew I’d be in good view of the cameras now as I kissed from one side of his hamstrings to the other knotted leg. I took my time working my way up. 

Bryan was ready for the rim job now. Hiking his ass up, he parted his legs enough to let me in. My hands gripped his buns and did the rest. 

The college kid’s sigh was deep and sexual as I began licking. I wanted to put on a show. I loved rimming a guy and sometimes felt there was never enough of it in porn videos. It was always a quick lick before the top was lining up. I went full in now, eating out Bryan for a solid five to ten minutes, alternating speed and tonguework. Sometimes Bryan relaxed and let me do my magic, sometimes he bucked up against my face to maximize the contact.

I pulled back and with a hungry growl gave him a light pat. “Turn over,” I urged in my deeper voice. Spittle wetted down the chin of my mask. I really wished he and I could do it without these, but the masks allowed us to fuck on camera, both of us.

I was amazed to see Bryan’s prick hard and leaking clear sap everywhere. He was majorly turned on. I pulled up enough to let the cameras get a good view of his ripped, modestly jacked body. 

“How many guys have fucked you?” I asked tersely. I sure hoped the “MaskedDaddy” voice was enough fo a disguise. 

Bryan didn’t change his voice, but his soft response was sexy as hell. “No one yet,” he said. 

I leaned in and kissed him. Just enough sexual urge, and enough romantic finesse. Bryan responded in turn, sucking my tongue into his mouth and moaning against me. He was nervous, sure, but also getting the case of the major horns. 

I loved this, putting on a show and yet connecting one-to-one with this fine young man. I pulled up and muttered, “nice,” patting his chest. I rolled off to the side and undid my robe. My hardon bounded out and both Bryan and the camera could see my exposed body with its blond fur. I pulled him to me and we started making out again. 

Silently I guided him down and the kid knew what to do. Slowly he began kissing and worshipping my big prick, wetting it down with his tongue before taking me into his mouth. Practice hadn’t made perfect, but he was getting much more accustomed to my size and better at blowing me.

I was determined not to get overheated. I just lay back and enjoyed this, the sensation of Bryan’s soft, slow blowjob and the view of his nakedness kneeling in front of me in servicing position. 

Soon, though, it was feeling too good. I nudged him off. He came up to meet me for a kiss, taking the initiative now, until I regained the upperhand in rolling him back on his back, with me on top. I could feel his hardon against mine and the warmth from his body. 

Placing my mouth at his ear, I whispered, “You like being a porn star too, dont ya kiddo?”

“Yeah,” he grunted back. 

I knew I needed to be a little verbal with him. If the camera picked up my words, Travis could edit them out. “You’re just about the hottest guy I’ve ever fucked, Bry.”

His body actually shivered at that. The time seemed ripe. I lifted off and leaned over to pump out some lube. 

He let out a hiss of air the second my greased fingers touched his pucker but he didn’t flinch. Instead he spread his legs and looked into my eyes. This was gonna be good. 

I pushed a digit in. Bryan was real fucking tight. But I worked him slowly. Back and forth, in and out. 

“Another,” I said curtly. 

“God,” he hissed as I penetrated him with two fingers. It wasn’t bad-uncomfortable for him, but it was certainly unfamiliar to him. We stood still eyes locked, him lying back, me between his legs. Until I started finger fucking him again. I applied more lube and fingered him some more. 

Finally I pulled back and removed my robe entirely, slipping it off my body and tossing it aside. Bryan’s hands were on me, excited to feel up my DILF body. I let him. Between his attention and the cameras I was getting real excited. I was the one dripping now. I caught a thick thread of precum in my fingers and brought it down to his virgin hole. I fingered him up with that too. 

The third finger was slow going, but I got him to relax. 

“No rubber?” I have asked and half said. 

“No sir,” came his excited reply. 

I was gonna get blue balls soon if I didn’t fuck. I scooted up and pressed my prick head in place. I pressed super slow against his ring, working against the spit-slick tightness and smearing my precum against him. 

I could feel Bryan’s body shake beneath me, and he looked up, a real deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes beneath the mask. I worried if I waited longer his nerves would get the best of him. I pushed in.

“UNNH!” he whimpered loudly. I felt bad the entry hurt and bad that he was doing his bravest to pretend it didn’t.

“Easy, bud…” I hissed, reaching down to run my hands along his hot body. This fine young man was giving me a major gift. My prick jerked an inch or two inside him, feeling the tightness of his ass clamping down on him, as I held still, then gave the shallowest of thrusts, back and forth more than in and out. 

I looked at him, trying to communicate silently. Then I leaned in, pushing his legs back with my body. “You’re doing good,” I said.

We kissed. My cock slipped out of its toe hold but I didn’t care. He needed this, and I wanted it. This was about the only time I lost track of the cameras. When I wasn’t putting on a show. I connected with this college kid in a deep, soulful kiss. And kissed him som more.

I pulled back. This time I didn’t rush, but I didn’t delay. I pushed back into him. Bryan somehow trusted me, because his ring gave way more easily. He was virgin tight a few inches inside, but I gently thrust back and forth, working that knot inside him. I pulled out and added more lube. Now showing off for Bryan and the cameras both. Then I placed his ankles on my shoulders.

“OOH FUCK!” Came his cry when I broke through. But he wasn’t in pain, just overwhelmed by feelings he didn’t have word for. I plowed all the way in and held it. I could see his muscular chest rise and fall, taking deep breaths. 

“Got your cherry, kiddo,” I hissed. 

“Thank you,” he actually replied, his voice heavy in emotion. That got me going. My dick felt like stone inside his warm, tight guts.

“Feel good buddy?” My hands massaged his calf muscle as I looked down on him and restrained myself from just plowing his hot ass.

Bryan nodded. 

I pulled and out thrust in. Then again. I was fucking for real now. Bryan’s first fuck. Maybe more than he bargained for when he came over the previous night. But I knew this was his deep fantasy and why he reached out to me. 

I wasn’t hard or rough, but I fucked with a steady determination. I wanted to give this kid the best first time experience possible now. I puffed my chest and used more of a swivel action of my hips, in and out, in and out, as my eyes stared down at him. I’d probably read his facial reactions better without the mask, but his eyes and mouth were enough. I was getting to him, hitting that spot.

I paused just a second and reached to pump out more lube. This went onto his prick. He gasped as I slicked him up then got the picture once I pulled my hand away. 

I grabbed a pillow and slid it underneath his hips. It made for the perfect angle, and I took quick advantage, resuming my steady plow of Bryan’s no-longer virgin hole.

Turns out his masturbation was just what Bryan needed, flipping the switch to full pleasure now. 

“Yeah?” I asked. Fucking heavier now.

“Yesss,” the college hunk hissed back. He was jerking faster now, not frantically but eagerly and in synch with the fuck.

I saw his pisslit dilate and a clear spurt fly out. Not his ejaculation yet, but the prelude. 

“Fuck yes,” I grunted, throwing my hips into harder pounding. I was getting close to the finish line, and I wanted to speed up to catch up with this stud. 

My harder thrusts felt amazing giving how much his ass was clenching and releasing on my dick spasmodically. But it really made Bryan’s prostate sing. His pale skin grew pink and flush and his wrestler muscle tensed up.

“Shit!” he yelled and timed with each shove his nuts gave it up, and his prick spurted heavy ropes of semen over his perfect body. 

I went at it even harder, leaning in some, powering my hips in rapid jabs. I didn’t say anything but my grunt was unmistakeable as I shoved in and unloaded. My cum threw off my rhythm, but I held deep a second, then my hips jerked involuntarily for another hard shove to discharge my seed deep inside Bryan.

The kid winced at that one, which made me feel bad. I got myself under control and held myself steady, gently massaging his leg and then easing back. He’d been a trooper but now needed a break. I leaned back and showed off my slickened dong, though most viewers eyes would probably be on the cum-covered collegiate muscle of my bottom. 

Leaning over I picked up one of the cameras. Time for the money shot. 

Even if Bryan wasn’t an experienced bottom, he’d watched enough porn to know what I was after. Rather than drop his legs down, he pulled them back, spreading them enough to show me and the camera his fucked and seeded hole. No longer drum tight, it has a slight gape and was thick with my cum. I’d shot a lot. 

I got a good shot of it, then angled the camera up to capture his whole ripped and cum-wet body. Nothing would ever top watching my own son in porn, but Bryan was a close second. 

I finally set down the phone and pulled off my mask. That was the cue Bryan was waiting for and he eagerly peeled his off. 

“You OK, buddy?” I asked. My normal voice returning.

He nodded. “God yeah. I’m so glad we did that.”

I gave a sly nod to the camera. “Your first time’s preserved as a memento,” I said. A little teasing in my voice, but checking in where his head was. 

He smiled and god he was so fucking cute with that pearly white smile. “I didn’t think I was gonna enjoy it at first,” he admitted. “But damn…”

I ran my fingers through the cum that had turned liquidy on his chest. “You shot like gangbusters,” I said.

“My cums are pretty big normally,” he said. “But your dick did something inside me that made me go wild. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I’m glad,” I said. I leaned forward for another kiss, this one tantalizingly soft and slow. 

Afterward, I let Bryan get up and shower off while I checked my phone. Then I figured I’d join him. The look on his face told me my presence was quite welcome.

“Hey,” he grinned, shyly. God, he was star struck and that made me feel like a real stud.

“Hey,” I said. Our wet bodies connected and we took the time to soap each other down. 

“You married to a man or a woman?” he asked as he nodded to my gold band. 

“A woman,” I said. “I’m not the best husband.”

He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you share yourself.”

“I have news for you kiddo,” I said, turning off the water and running my hands over his wet muscled body. “You’ve shared yourself now, too.”

“Still can’t believe it,” he said. “When will you post it?”

“In a couple of weeks,” I said. I wasn’t going to bring up Travis or my process for putting the vid together. 

His hands reached up to feel my body too, my chest but also my shoulders and arms. 

“I’m hard again,” Bryan said. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re 20,” I joked. “It happens.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. 

I patted his arm. “Feel like sleeping over?” I asked. “I have a morning flight to catch but you’re welcome to stay.”

He nodded, like an eager puppy. We dried off and made our way back into the room. I downed a bottled water to rehydrate and tossed him one. “Remind me to tip housekeeping extra,” I said as I pulled down the sheets. “We made a fucking mess.”

He slipped into the bed next to me. His body was cooler now, and felt great against my warmer bod. We made out. His dick was a spike and I got hard once more, but I wasn’t eager for another fuck. And Bryan seemed to go with the flow.

“So…” I finally said. “No longer a virgin…”

“No sir.”

“Any regrets?” I asked, leaning back in the bed against the headboard, pulling my hands behind me. Bryan nestled in, resting his head against my upper chest and running his hands along my fur.

“None. It was hot as fuck,” he said. “But even if it hadn’t been, I just feel relieved, you know?”

“Not exactly,” I smiled knowingly.

“Ha,” he said, picking up on my meaning. “I’m surprised your so good at breaking a guy in if you’re cherry too.”

“I’d like to say I had some secret,” I admitted, “But I just did what felt right.”

Maybe it was the sex. I mean it was getting late, but not that late. Bryan was dozing some as he rested up against me. I ran my fingers through his hair. 

“Ready for bed, kiddo?” I asked.

“Yeah, Brad,” he said and rolled off to the side. 

***

My son did his magic crafting two separate scenes from the footage with Bryan, as well as a very hot teaser. “Taking College Jock’s Cherry” was the title of the second. The on-screen chemistry was real, and it was clear that we weren’t faking it. I really did take the young dude’s virginity on screen. 

“God, Dad, this is fucking incredible,” Travis said to me on the phone before he posted the scene. “I’ve shot three times to it.”

I smiled. I was in a semi-public place and had to be a little discrete. “I’m very glad to hear that,” I smirked. “A little payback to the one you did the other week.”

“Bud and Spike?” he asked.

That one was one was OK, but not my favorite. “No, the other one,” I said, cagily.

That got a laugh from Trav. “Oh, MiamiMuscles… dude’s a crazy power bottom, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, my throat getting hoarse with lust I was trying to hide. “I like watching you in action like that.”

Travis picked up on my need to be discreet, though he had no constraints on his end. “You prefer watching me fuck, Dad?”

God, my son knew how to drive me crazy. “I do,” I admitted. 

I detected a hesitation on his end, which wasn’t Travis’s normal response to anything. He paused. “Dad… you ever think about, you know, me fucking you?”

Just hearing those words were going make me go from chubbed to boned. “It’s a little scary to think about,” I replied. “But yeah… I do.”

“Oh fuck,” Travis hissed. Only then did I realize he’d been dreaming of that very act. Topping me. Taking my anal cherry, like I’d done with that Denver kid. It surprised me actually, given our bedroom chemistry with my son bottoming for me, eager for his dad’s cock. “We’ll talk about it next time, OK?” he said. Not pressuring me but letting me know this was on his mind. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll probably chicken out, son. But I wanna explore the idea.” I was nervous just vocalizing this. 

“Sure, Dad,” Trav said. “God you know I love everything we’d done together. If I were there right now, I’d suck your cock, you know that.” My son was getting into deep lust mode now. 

“Fuck, Trav, I should probably go,” I said. I knew if I kept talking like this, I’d get in trouble. “Later, son?”

“Yeah, Dad,” he replied, his voice rich with lust. I knew he was probably going to jack off when I hung up. I was going to find the time myself at the first chance. Pull up one of Travis’s videos where he topped and stroke off imagining him pounding me, too.

****

My Denver videos were popular. I wasn’t surprised that my fans responded to the realness of them, but I was surprised by the messages I got. They changed my porn career and it’s probably not an overstatement to say they changed my life.

The first one came two weeks after the video with Bryan dropped. 

“Dear MaskedDaddy, I loved your latest video. God, it’s like my deepest fantasy. I’m 23 and live in DC. I don’t have that college jock’s bod, but I’m working on it. I’ve been too scared to let a guy fuck me, but if you want to be my first, I’d love to star in one of your vids. I wouldn’t even need a mask.”

It was a wild email, and I figured the kid’s horniness doing the thinking for him. I pawed my crotch and laughed at how forward the offer was. I started to send a polite thanks but no thanks reply.

But then I thought about it, and I figured what the hell. I asked for the young dude’s pictures. He was cute as fuck. Not quite as twunky as Bryan but still good looking, kind of that boy-next-door type. 

Travis handled the OnlyFans money my site brought in. I didn’t do porn for the money, and in any case I didn’t want my finances impacted lest Kate find out. 

I sent two more texts that night. One to DC guy. “If you’re serious, lets plan for something three weeks from now.” I knew I had some work travel on the East Coast I could piggy back on. 

My other I sent to Trav. “I need your help arranging a DC visit. Gonna pop another dude’s cherry.”

Look, it’s not that I don’t like you anymore. We’re still cool. But I’m just not interested in fucking you. C’mon man, you’re not that cute 20year old boy I met you as. You’re just a middle aged dude with thinning hair and a saggy arse. Nothing wrong with it. It happens to all of us” Derek’s condescension was more bitter than his scorn. Here I was, butt naked in all my glory, legs spread, arse offered to my longtime sugar daddy, and he was telling me he wasn’t interested in what was being presented. My dick shrank.

 I met Derek in back in `002 in Dublin when I was at college and looking around for money to earn everywhere I could. Derek is rich. I mean minted. How he came by his money is somewhat a moot point. He seemed to be an occasional owner of short lived nightclubs of rather ill repute. The ones constantly getting busted for drugs and catering to the less savoury side of the gay scene. That’s where he met me, in one of his dives. I worked part time as a dancer there for a while and became a favourite of his and his pervy older mates. Derek was about 40 back then, and still in fair enough shape himself. He and his pals craved young meat. As a fit 20year old lad I was just up their street. So Derek took me as his favourite boytoy.

I learned everything I needed to know about courting cash from jaded old men who would do and give anything to get a whiff of a fresh young manhole during my long liaison with Derek. I still got to score lads my own age of course. Derek quite enjoyed seeing me and some other hot twink or young jock perform for him before he got his tongue into our cracks. It wasn’t the worst way to spend a youth.

But that’s 20years ago now. My youth is spent. I’m older now than Derek was when we first met. I’d gone my own way when I left college and travelled. I’d only returned this year and hit up old Derek who has never left the scene. He’s still rich ( and out of prison!) and still chasing — and getting — plenty of hot bussy. I thought he’d still be interested, if only for old time’s sake. I obviously overestimated my level of preserved sex-appeal. He’s right. My hair has been thinning which is why I’m normally a skinhead now. My body is not firm and flushed with youthful vigor anymore. And my arse probably is sagging. But…. “No , I really don’t need to see your ol’ butt-cheeks my mate” said Derek, with a note of stingingly embarrassed affection. “you know you don’t have to pretend. We can have fun together, just not with each other. Besides, you should know I’m always on the cutting edge of new talent. Know what I mean?”

Yes, Derek. I know exactly what you mean. I turned and got up from his coffee table where I had positioned myself in offering and with eyes downcast in a shame I didn’t want to reveal, motioned myself to the clothes I had strewn about and began to dress again. “wait!” said Derek, still ensconced on the sofa “didnt I just say we could still have fun?”

I was at a loss. Wtf do you mean, Derek? Im here, having just offered you a plunge into a hole that 20years ago you and your mates were crawling over each other to get a shot at, and which you now evidently would rather not even look at, and yet you’re saying we can still have fun? Like at what? Snakes and Ladders? Cludo? Just then I heard the door of his bathroom open and shut and the sound of bare feet pattering down the marbled staircase to the living room.

The door opened. In stepped a vision which might have been the me of 20years ago. A beautiful lad, black haired, pale skinned, and butt naked. A hefty dong swinging between his legs and a boyish smile revealing a mouth pearly-whites beneath his full red lips. “Ah! Here we are. Cormac, may I introduce you to Aaron!”… The boy grinned wider as Derek got to his feet and having grilled his schlong, patted his firm arse, and planted a kiss on his lips, began to strip himself.

So this is what Derek meant; we two tired ol’ pervs were to have our lusts satiated together by Derek’s new boy… Well, yes, but not the full story. Derek wanted to make a point that me and him, although both now unattractive has-beens, were not on the same level. He was still the daddy. I was the spent, supplanted, cucked and humiliated ex-fav. I had to be put through a rite of passage.

I was commanded to submit to Aaron’s rough humiliation of my aging body. He slapped my arse, shoved my face into his immaculate twink asshole, pulling it out before I managed to get my tongue in there and then smacking me across the chops for presuming to try. Meanwhile he was enthusiastically fondling and kissing Derek. Both of them now got to work degrading me.

They treated me like a dog, alternatively allowing me to get my lips on their cocks or up their arseholes before cracking me back down to my place. Obviously, I wasn’t into Derek now myself. I mean, he’s in his 60s, but the power he and his new lad exerted over me was such a turn-on. And Aaron was simply delicious. A real bel ami boy. Finally our romp climaxed in Derek’s spacious bathroom with Aaron squatting over me, teasing me with his sweet rosebud pucker  as Derek watched and wanked on side, . We came in blissful unison.

( Too good to be true? )

It was four-thirty when we lost the second softball game. Billy hooked up with Pat for a ride home, and I took off for Philly, driving Ronny home. I’m feeling proud about telling Ron Smart and his girlfriend that Ronny and I were gay boyfriends. They’ll quickly spread the word, leaving Billy Underwood out of it. At a red light, I look at Ronny, smile, and reach over to tip his baseball cap back and ruffle my fingers through his new haircut, telling him, “I’m so proud to be your boyfriend, Ronny. I can hardly wait for that dick-head Ron Smart to tell everybody about us being gay motherfuckers, and you look dynamite in your glasses!”

He gently pushes my hand away, “Don’t mess up my hair, Richie, okay? And, yeah, that guy was a dick-head, alright, but telling people you’re my boyfriend won’t mean much because nobody in your neighborhood except Billy and Pat knows me.”

Gee, he’s getting more comfortable getting bossy with me, and it makes my dick feel good when he does that. I’m grinning at him, flicking my fingers at his bangs, teasing him as he bats my hand away again, grinning back at me, “Stop it, Richie…”  He catches my fingers, holds my hand, then rubs my hand against his cheek. 

“Ooooh, that gave me a sexy chill, Ronny.” Then a car horn toots. I look up, see the green light, wave at the driver behind me, and drive off. 

Ronny’s holding his hat, patting at his hair that was cut too short at the crown so it wouldn’t lie down. He said, “Oh, I meant to ask you earlier if you could stay for dinner at my house tonight. Mom and Dad always go out Saturday night, so we can, as you call it, mess around after they leave. Whaddaya say? And this will give them a chance to know you better.”

Making a face, I mumble, “Well, yeah, I want to do the sexy messing around part tonight, the kissing and fucking, but I’m not good at social situations such as having dinner with your parents. Couldn’t you and I eat at McDonald’s or something? “Sure, we could, but I want my parents to get to know you really well and start thinking of you as family.”

Yes, I know! It’s extremely unlikely for two guys like Ronny and me, who met only a couple of weeks ago, to be lovers for life, but we’re positive that that’s going to happen. Nodding, I say, “You know what? You’re right again, Ronny. You said we’re getting married after I graduate college, so I’ll be your parent’s son-in-law, right? They need to get to know me, and me them.” 

Holding up his hand, “Yes, but wait a second, Wallingford. Both of us need to agree about the getting married part, not just me. I mean, I just suggested that we get married after college, but it’s up to you to want to do that, too. It’s not like I made the decision for us.”

“Jeez, Ronny! Don’t you know by now that I want what you want? I’ve become confident about driving in Philly, and that’s good because I’ll be driving these streets every day getting to and from Ronny’s. Keeping my eyes on the road, I add, “So, I say, uh-huh. I trust your decisions on, um, everything, so I’m following your plan about us marrying when I graduate.”

“I just finished telling you I don’t have a plan. If there’s a plan, it needs to be OUR plan, not mine.” Nodding again, I mumble, “Yeah, that’s what you said, but you DO have a plan, and I’m following it. You decided we’re getting married, or you wouldn’t have told me about it. It’s all good, Ronny! That’s a long way off, anyway.”

He shrugs, “There’s no sense in getting hung up on semantics, I guess. Who cares whose plan it was; we’ll get married after graduating college. So now that’s settled, how about you staying for dinner tonight?”

“Sure, Ronny, um, when we get to your house, I’ll call home and ask if having dinner at your house will be a problem of some sort. I can’t imagine why it would be, but I’ve never eaten at a friend’s house before, so I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work.”

He rubs my shoulder, “You’ve never eaten at a friend’s house in your life? Gee, that’s a sad thing to hear. That makes me feel bad for you. Didn’t you have any friends other than Billy?”

“Yeah, I had a few friends! I’m not retarded. What the fuck, Ronny? I had friends, but just not the kind where we’d eat dinner at each other’s houses. And I never had a sleepover either.”

“Holy shit! Seriously?” I glanced over at him with a quizzical expression, and he quickly added, “Oh, um, don’t worry, though, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with, um, not ever having had a childhood sleepover, although it is rather unusual.” I’ve got nothing to say to that because I never thought there was anything wrong with not having a sleepover. I’d have felt awkward as hell doing that.

After a few minutes of silence, Ronny says, “And, ah, I’m aware that you’re socially challenged in some, ah, ways, I guess. Well, Billy told me about it, and I’ll help you with that. Ask me about anything you’re unsure of, okay?”

Glancing at him again, “What? That’s so, um, well, even though it’s partially true in a way, it was a rude thing for Billy to say about me. What else did he tell you about me?”

“Only great things, Wallingford. He said you’re wonderful and that he likes you better than anyone he’s ever known. He also mentioned to me that you had a, you know, a kind of serious social hangup about certain things.” Hitting the brakes, I mutter, “Fucking asshole! No, not Billy. That dickhead in the pickup pulled out in front of me and almost caused an accident.” 

Then, “Um, Ronny, I do not have serious social hangups or whatever Billy said. No wonder you were hesitant to go on a date with me. Christ! I mean, sure, there are some things that are awkward for me, but I’m not some kind of freak.”

“No, no! He just said something about you spending most of your time in your bedroom jerking off. You know, until he took you under his wing. He cares about you, Richie! He also sincerely believes he was doing you a favor by setting you up for dates with Pat Summers and then with me. And he was certainly right about you and me, huh?”

Nodding, I grin at him, “Yes, I love him for that. You’re my top, main man, my love of a lifetime. You and me and destiny, right?”

Ronny mutters, “Oh, jeez, yeah, I guess he had to talk me into my first date with you, but not because I thought there was anything wrong with you. The opposite was true. I didn’t think you’d have the slightest interest in me, but Billy swore that you and I were very much alike, except for you being, um, you know, that socially challenged thing, and, haha, he said you were ten times cuter than me. Christ, you know all the crazy shit Billy says, the things he comes right out with. Heh-heh, ya know?”

I’m like, “Yeah, I guess. So, he was filling you in about what I’m like while talking you into going out with me. So I’m curious if he, um, elaborated about why he likes me better than anybody he’s ever known?”

Shaking his head, “Sorry, that’s all he said about that. Ya know what? I thought it was creepy the way Billy seemed to be saying he wanted me to, um, well, make you my boyfriend. Naturally, I had to wonder why he wanted me to be your boyfriend instead of him.”

I’m nodding, “It’s fucked, Ronny. The whole thing is fucking nuts, except for you and me; we’re real! I mean, we’re a true miracle, and I’m hoping Billy Underwood had loving reasons for finding a new boyfriend for me. Mostly, though, I’d hate to think you and I would never have met if it weren’t for Billy.”

He muttered, “Nah, as I said before, we were destiny’s children; you and I were going to be together one way or another.” Then, turning to look at me, he goes, “And don’t get me wrong, Billy truly likes you. At one point, he said you deserved a better boyfriend than him, and another time, he said he wanted to hook you up with me because he was only pretending to be gay, and he didn’t want to disappoint you about that.”

“Pretending, huh? He’s so full of…”

“Yeah, I didn’t believe any of that shit, either. Still, Underwood is so cool, and, as I told you before, I was hoping he’d give me a chance to be his boyfriend, so that’s why I agreed to have a date with you. I told Billy I’ll take care of you; look out for you. You know, even though I never thought you needed taking care of, and you don’t!”

I was nodding and thinking, huh, I’ll be damn! I say, “Yeah, but then, as soon as you and I were alone, you immediately forgot about Billy being your boyfriend and fell in love with me, right?” 

“Well, duh, obviously! Jesus, if you’re not convinced of that by now… well, I’ll need to try harder, I guess. Ha-ha. No, it’s you and me, Wallingford, forever. Billy isn’t in the picture as far as that goes, and if he tries getting back in the picture, he’s in for a big disappointment. I told him that, too!”

Smiling, I murmur, “Oouwee, I loved hearing you say that, Ronny. God Almighty, I’m grateful Billy cared about me enough to introduce you to me and talk you into going on a date with me.”

Ronny shrugs, “Yeah, I guess, but even if he hadn’t, as I said, we would have connected anyhow. It’s destiny.” Parking in the alley behind Ronny’s house, “I’ll call my Mom about eating dinner at your house.” When asked if it would be a problem, she said, “A problem? No, it’s no problem, dear. Is everything okay?” I tell her everything is fantastic, and then I tell her a little about the softball games, and she says, “It sounds as though you had a good time. I just want you to be happy, Gary. Are you happy?”

“I’m way past happy, Mom. I’m hovering in the area of ecstasy. This past year, especially the ten days with Ronny, has been the best of my life by far.” Then, tearing up, I murmur, “And, Mom, thanks for caring so much about me and being so supportive about me being, um, different.” Sounding like she’s tearing up, too, she says, “I love you and want you to have fun and enjoy your life, but be safe, too.”

Yeah, I know what she’s referring to. When I end the call, Ronny’s eyes are big as he asks, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Shaking my head, smiling, “Nothing is wrong! I’m not crying! It must be a gay thing that makes me tear up when I’m happily emotional.” Then I squeeze the back of his neck, “You make me emotionally happy all the time, so I’m always hiding my tears from you so you won’t think I’m weak.” 

Giving me a curious look, Ronny mutters, “Maybe Underwood’s right that you do need some taking care of.” We both burst out with a laugh, and Ronny adds, “Seriously though, you might need a little, um, help in certain situations. You can be sure that I’ll take care of you if you tell me what you need help with.” 

That’s so sweet! I don’t say anything, though. I’m touched by the way he said he’d take care of me, but I’m afraid my voice would have that crying sound in it if I tried telling him that. 

My ‘coming out’ last night and then coming out again today at the high school, and being with Ronny, hugging him, hearing his loving comments. It all adds up and makes me feel the way I told Mom I was feeling… hovering near ecstasy but also emotional. Hugging around Ronny’s neck and rubbing my nose against his cheek, I feel more tears, but I’m smiling still.

He finally says, “You’re never going to let go of me, are you?” I shake my head, and he chuckles, then takes my arms off him, saying, “It makes me feel wonderful that you like hugging me so much, Wallingford, but you overdo it a little. Well, I don’t mean to be critical. Ah, so what did your mom say about you having dinner here tonight?”

Sitting up and wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands, I mutter, “No problem, we’re good to go with the dinner thing. I don’t need you taking care of me, though. You were right the first time about that.” Taking a deep breath, I sigh and add, “Christ, I’ll try harder to keep the drama under control, Ronny, but, as I said, I sometimes get emotional. And, well, I’m good now, so…”

Looking at me, he asks, “Are you good, really? Everything’s okay?” 

“Uh huh, I just said it was.” 

Ronny asks, “So, we can go inside, and you won’t scare my parents with an emotional outburst or anything, right?” Getting out of the car, I’m like, “Holy shit! Seriously, I was hoping you’d be a little more compassionate, Ronny. I was experiencing a couple of tender moments there, and I included you in them.”

Going in the basement door, he puts his arm around me, mumbling, “Uh-huh, you big crybaby,” and we both snicker. I’m like, “Jesus, it’s a good thing I don’t need a heartless hard-ass like you taking care of me.”

We chuckle, going upstairs. Ronny looks at me, then wipes my cheek with the pad of his thumb, muttering, “You’ve got tear tracks on your cheeks, and Omigod, your skin is so smooth. Don’t you shave at all?”

“I shave, um, like weekly or biweekly, and I do not have tear tracks on my cheeks. He chuckles again, muttering, “Yeah, you do? Boys, don’t cry, Wallingford! Don’t you know that?”

We both snicker as I mutter, “Fuck you,” and he puts a finger to his lips, going, ‘SHH!” We both laugh at that. We laugh at everything; we’re kind of like girls in that regard. The stairs end in the kitchen, where we see his mom emptying the dishwasher. As we’re stepping away from the stairs, Ronny and I, for some dumb reason, can’t stop smirking at one another, my hand holding his wrist as his mom says, “Hi, boys. Did you win your baseball match?”  

“They’re baseball games, Mom, not matches like tennis. And, yes, we won one, then lost one. Can Richie stay for dinner?” 

She looks at me, “Oh, it’s Richie now? How many names do you have, Gary?” Blushing, I look at Ronny, who says, “His middle name is Richard, so I call him Richie. I’m his boyfriend, so I can do stuff like that, and when he graduates college, a year after me, we’ll get married, and his name will be Richie Lynch. He’ll be your son-in-law.” 

I love Ronny for saying all that. Coming right out and saying all that. Holy shit!! Smiling brightly at Ronny, he smirks at me, then winks, and shivers run up my spine. His mother makes a face, “Sure, of course, that’s exactly what will happen. Dream on…” 

“It’s not just a dream, Mom, but time will tell.”

She adds, “Time will tell, and in the meantime, of course, Gary-Richie can stay for dinner.” Ronny mutters, “Thanks,” then reaches around his Mom to get two Pepsis from the fridge, asking, “So, what are we having for dinner?”

“What would you boys like to have?” Ronny mutters, “Hamburgers and fries.”

She closes a cabinet door, mumbling, “All males must think alike. That’s what your Dad said he wanted for dinner when I asked him. It’s Saturday night, so it’s no problem. That’s what we’ll have: burgers, fries, and a salad.”

Ronny mumbles, “Awesome, Mom,” and then, looking at me, he nods toward the stairs in the living room. I nod back at him, and for no reason, we grin at one another, and Ronny pats my ass to get me moving and then follows me to the stairs. I’m awed by Ronny’s brashness, saying we’ll be married. I admire how mature and ballsy he was and how cool he looked in his glasses when he winked at me. Biting my bottom lip, I squeeze my junk and look back at him. He grins, smacking my ass again, “Get up those stairs, Richie Lynch.” 

Inside the bedroom, I say, “Christ, you’ve turned into my idol, Ronny. You were our man explaining to your mom what we’re doing together in the long term. I wish I had the words to describe how much I love and admire you.” He says, “Ha, I was just showing off for you, trying to impress you. My balls were shrinking to little marbles while saying all the marriage stuff to my Mom.”

I put my arms around him, my face close to his, “Still, you said it, and I loved hearing every word. I’ll be proud to be Richie Lynch, my husband’s, um… what will I be?.”

“You’ll be my cuter-than-shit husband, the cutest husband anyone we know will ever have. Married gay guys are both known as husbands.” 

“Oh, so that’s how that works, huh? We’ll be each other’s husbands. I was wondering if I’d be your wife.” He laughs his ass off, “Oh, I’m so sure you’d be okay if I called you my wife. Hahaha.”

Actually, that’s what I thought I’d be when he said I’d be Richie Lynch and he’d be my husband. I didn’t know how gay marriages worked. How could I know?” Moving on from that, I say, “Ronny, we’re both grungy and sweaty. What are we going to do about that before dinner? I should have showered and changed clothes at my house. Look how dirty my jeans are from sliding into second base.”

He squints his eyes, nods his head, and says, “Uh-huh, I forgot about Billy warning me that you can get whiny at times. Don’t worry, though, we can clean up before dinner, but first,” grinning at me, he says, “You mentioning marriage made me think of a big favor I wanted to ask you.”

He still has his arms around my waist as I swipe his short bangs to the side of his forehead, mumbling, “Oh yeah? First off, it was you who brought up the marriage talk. Next, whatever the favor is that you want me to do… I’ll do it.”

Shaking his head slightly, he looks serious, saying, “You don’t know what it is, Wallingford. Um, it’s this: when we start college in the fall, would you introduce yourself to everyone as Richie instead of Gary? I’ll feel proud you’re committing yourself to me by accepting the name I chose for you.” 

I say, “First of all, yes, of course, I’ll do that for you, but not your last name until we’re married. I’ll say I’m Richie Wallingford. Secondly, I want to clear up the whining thing you mentioned. I was NOT whining! Billy always said that I whined, but I never did!” 

He says, “Thank you so much for going along with the new name, Richie! Heh-heh, that’ll be so cool! And, um, that whining remark was me trying to be funny. I don’t think you whine. I thought you’d laugh when I said Billy warned me about you whining.”

“Oh, I didn’t get the joke. I didn’t realize that was a joke.” We’re standing just inside the bedroom door as he nods and says, “That’s okay. You and I are just learning about one another. As we get to know each other better, we’ll recognize when we’re kidding around and when we’re being serious. But, jeez, it’s so cool of you to go along with your name change.”

Leaning against him like I used to do with Billy, “It’s nothing. I’m glad to do it for you. And, yeah, we are learning more and more about one another. Haha, fuck, it’s like everybody else in the world learns everything about someone before deciding if they’re in love. We’re doing it backward. We fell in love and are now slowly learning about who we fell in love with.” 

He murmurs, “You’re so good-looking! Jesus, sometimes I need to just stare at you and pinch myself or something. You’re awesome,” and he takes my hat off and tosses it on his bed, then does the same with his hat, saying, “Hi, Richie Lynch. Jeez, you’re a cute motherfucker, ain’tcha? Haha…”

“Oh, thanks, but, um, that’s my name after we’re married, not at college.” He says, “I know that! I was just trying it out, and it sounded really good… Richie Lynch.” Rubbing the pad of my fingers across his forehead to move his bangs to the side again, I murmur, “Actually, I like the name Richie that you gave me better than my real name of Gary.”

Ronny shakes his head once, and his bangs drift back down his forehead as he grins about that. I make a face, and he tightly squeezes his arms around me, muttering, “You are so perfect! Everything about you is perfect. Is this, um, are the two of us too good to be true, do you think?”

I shrug, mumbling, “I don’t know, but I hope not!”

“Well, have you learned anything about me that you don’t like?” 

“Nope, I haven’t! Or was that joking again?”

“No, it was a real question.”

“Oh, well, I love everything about you, Ronny, and as wonderful as everything is between us, I believe it’s real, and it’s not too good to be true. I know it’s true. You and I will prove it.” We’re still standing just inside his bedroom door, continuously touching. He murmurs, “You make me believe it’s true, Wallingford. You’re my idol.”

I grin, “And, as I said three minutes ago, you’re my idol, Ronny. We’re each other’s idols.” He mutters, “Yeah, but we’re also sounding like a couple of over-the-top fags,” and we both laugh as he hugs me tighter. That gets us going off into one of our kissing make-out frenzies that lasts two or three minutes. My dick gets so hard it hurts. I squirm in his arms, moaning, “Ronny, wait, please, um, I feel like I’m going to cum in my ‘effing pants.”

He kicks the door shut behind us and asks, “Do you want me to fuck you now? Should we, um, you know, do it now, or…?”

Taking some quick, deep breaths, I murmur, “Can we wait for a second, please, Ronny? On, dammit, I think I did cum in my underpants again. I was hoping it was just precum, but I don’t think so.” Sounding serious, he mutters, “Actually, if you just squirted cum, you did it in my underpants. Remember I made you cum in your underpants like four hours ago, before the softball game, and then I lent you the underpants you currently are wearing and shooting off in.”

I’m snickering, “Oh, fuck, you’re right.” He starts giggling as he adds, “It doesn’t take much to get you to cum in your pants.” He squeezes my junk, “How’s that feel, Richie?”

My head lulls against his shoulder, “Felt good, but I squirted more juice in your underpants.” We start giggling for real, my arms around him and him squeezing my dick again, his other arm still around my waist. He stops giggling all of a sudden and says, “Damn, I think I’m going to cum too, umm, ooh.”

“I know that’s a joke, but can I suck you off again, Ronny. I really liked doing that.”

Nodding, then letting go of my dick, he unbuttons his jeans. Then, when he pulls them down, his almost four-inch boner pokes out the fly of his jockey underwear right next to the faint piss stain. No hesitation, I pull his underpants down and drop to my knees. My eyes open wide, seeing precum drool, then hang from his piss slit. I lean over and tongue his boner inside my mouth, my tongue twirling around the head. After swallowing his precum, I cover my teeth and tightly slide forward on his boner, the smallish pointy head popping into my throat, making me gag for a second. 

My dick gets hard in the goo in my underpants as I back off his steel boner and then go down on it again, the head in my throat making me do another short gagging sound. The third time I do it, Ronny holds my head between his hands and humps his hip once, twice, and with a groan the third time, he shoots a long stream of cum in my mouth and down my throat.

Coughing out a bubble of his cum, it pops and drool down my chin. Swallowing twice, I then suck on his softening cock as Ronny leans over and kisses the top of my head, murmuring, “You’re my most wonderful dream lover come true, Wallingford. That felt so good I feel faint,” and, taking a big inhale, he steps back, pulling his dick from my mouth, almost stumbling with his jeans and underwear below his knees. He makes it to his desk, where he plops his bare ass on the desk chair.

As I’m licking my lips, I stand and adjust my wet, hard dick in my pants, then follow Ronny to the desk, leaning against the desk right beside him, grinning, “Can I borrow another pair of underpants?” His dick is back to its flaccid three-inch condition, looking skinnier than usual. Its size is fascinating, but I forced myself to look away. I wasn’t quick enough, though. Ronny saw me gawking at his fabulous worm-size penis and said, “Seriously, Wallingford, why are you always staring at my dick, and with that weird expression on your face? You’re always doing that when your dick is very similar to mine, so look at your own dick.”

Feeling my face getting hot, I bite my tongue and let that ridiculous penis comparison slide, then I ask, “What expression? What are you talking about? I didn’t have an expression on my face, and why would I stare at your dick when it’s just like mine? Er, or almost.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Well, I’m sorry then. I thought you were staring. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything, anyway. You can stare at any part of me you want.” He smiles, adding, “I stare at you all the time.”

Again, I’m slowly running my fingers through his short, just barbered light brown hair, I murmur, “That’s okay, Ronny. Gee, I wish I had hair like yours. I like how your hair feels, and it always smells good, um, like, um, like hair should smell.” He laughs, “Goddamn, you are so good for my ego. You keep thinking up things to compliment me about. That’s very nice of you.”

As Ronny sits there bare-ass on his desk chair, I casually play with his hair, twirling some around my fingers until he pulls my fingers away and holds my hand. Looking up at me, he says, “Stop mussing my hair. Your hair is a beautiful shade of light blond, and if you’d let it grow out a little, it would look better than mine.”

“I don’t think so. But I like touching every part of you, Ronny, and that includes your hair and, of course, your wonderful penis. I especially liked having that in my mouth.”

He squeezes my hand, “I don’t know what feels better, Richie, fucking you or you sucking my dick. Honest to God, I didn’t even know there were pleasure sensations in existence as unbelievably fantastic as the ones I experienced with you. This is a new world for me, and you’ve made it possible; you are that world.”

Squeezing his hand, I murmur, “I feel the same way about you, Ronny. You’re my whole world.” Then I lean over, put my arms around his neck, and kiss his cheek. Then keeping my head next to his, my arms around his neck, his arms go around my waist, we hug like this for a minute or so. Even sweaty from playing baseball, he smells good.

We sigh at the same time and let go of one another. I step back as he stands and pulls his pants up, mumbling, “Just now, us hugging each other, I was thinking how unfair it is that you’re always the bottom guy or, if we’re not doing that, you’re always sucking my dick. It’s unfair of me to take advantage of you like that. You’re too nice. I need to bite the bullet and, no matter how much it hurts, be a bottom boy for you, and next time it will be me sucking your dick, okay?”

“No, Ronny, please! We’ve talked about this already and agreed we should continue everything exactly as we are because, for one thing, you’re much, much better at being the top guy. You’re a way better top than me, plus I prefer being the bottom. I swear to God, I do. I love being the bottom boy for you, Ronny… I LOVE IT!!”

He bites his lip, then asks, “Really? Wow, I mean, if you’re sure, then I’ll be happy to continue being your top guy. Actually, I was kind of thinking I’m doing a really good job of having sex fucking you, especially considering my limited experience at having sex. Plus, as you said, I like how we’ve been doing everything. So, as long as you want it this way, I’m happy about making you happy because I sure am.”

“Huh? Well, we’re in agreement that you’re my man, my dominant top, and I love it that way. I love you, too. You’re our leader, Ronny. You’re older and more mature, so it makes sense I look up to you as our leader.”

Nodding, he goes, “Okay, I’ll be your man, Wallingford, but stop with that leader shit, okay? We don’t need a lea back in the tenth grade.”

“Well, yeah, you told me that before, but I think you’re the best ever. I love your penis, too, probably as much as you do. Um, but, ah, how about lending me another one of your underpants?”

“Oh, haha, sorry. I forgot. Of course, I’ll lend you underpants,” and he goes into the top drawer of his bureau. Tossing me a pair of white jockey shorts, he says, “You’ve always mentioned my penis, and for real, I think my dick is the main reason you’re enjoying our anal sex so much. I feel I’ve learned how to use my boned-up dick in ways that give you the most pleasure, but don’t hesitate to tell me how I can do it even better, okay?” 

Kicking off my sneakers and then dropping my jeans, I step out of my wet underpants, “Yeah, sure, Ronny, but considering the size of, um, well, your dick, I can’t imagine how you could fuck me any better than you’re doing.” Looking at the plop of wetness in my underpants, I mutter, “It felt like a lot more, but it was mostly precum,” and hold the underpants out to Ronny, who chuckles and bats them away with his hand, mumbling, “So you agree that my dick is the perfect size to give you the most pleasure?”

Oh man, I could do a number on that, but this is the first time Ronny, as my top, is searching for compliments about topping. The few tops I’ve had all were looking for compliments after messing around fucking me, so why shouldn’t Ronny do the same? As I put on my third pair of underwear today, I say, “Look into my eyes, Ronny.” He stares into my eyes, and I say, “This is the honest-to-God truth. You’re the best top I’ve ever had the pleasure of having sex with.”

As I’m pulling up my jeans, he asks, “How many tops have, ah, you know, fucked you beside me? I mean, if that question isn’t out of line.”

I say, “No question from you is out of line. There was Billy, Pat Summers, and my boss at work.” He mutters, “Oh, okay. I knew about those three, and now me. So, nobody else, though, huh?” I like fucking around with his hair, so I swipe his short bangs over to the side again, mumbling, “No, nobody else. And for the rest of my life, you’re my man and the only one I want fucking me.”

He puts his arms around my waist and says, “Even though I’ll sound like an asshole saying this, Wallingford, I gotta say it anyhow. It’s this: you better make damn sure I’m your only top. I don’t want you fucking with anybody else from now on. And, of course, I give you my word that I’m not going to fuck anybody but you. There; did I sound like the biggest asshole ever?”

Grinning, “A little bit, yeah. Haha, no, you could never sound like an asshole to me, Ronny. I promise to obey your rule, too, but I’m human. What if I slip up when I’m drunk or high?” He grins and says, “Well, I’ll forgive you, of course! And it isn’t my rule; it’s, um, my wish, my hope. I don’t make rules for you.”

We hug and rub noses, snicker, and then, as we always do, we make out for a minute or two. Taking a deep breath, my nose bumping Ronny’s, I mutter, “Holy shit… do you think we’ll ever get past this cringe-worthy mushy, lovie/dovie phase of our love affair? You know, do you think there will ever be a time when we won’t constantly be touching, kissing, or having sex?”

He shrugs, chuckles, and mutters, “Is that a rhetorical question? Haha, anyway, I do know the answer if it was a real question. I hope this phase of our loving relationship continues for a long, long time, so…” and then he stops in midsentence as we hear, “Ron! Dinner in ten minutes!”

Letting go of each other, Ronny says, “Come on, you cute motherfucker, let’s clean up in the bathroom.” After we did that, Ronny found a pair of skinny khakis that were too big for him but fit me. I put those on with one of his clean Polo shirts that fit perfectly. I’m wearing Ronny’s clothes, from his underpants to a clean pair of sweat socks. He asks, “Are you feeling clean enough not to be embarrassed at dinner?”

Nodding, “Yep, thanks for lending me your clothes. Jeez, it feels so sexy wearing everything of yours. Oh, Gawd, I may cum in your underpants again.” He smiles, “Try not to,” and I gently take his glasses off and clean them using a soft T-shirt from the open bureau drawer, murmuring, “I don’t think you realize how enormously impressed I am by you. You’re my man, Ronny, and my main goal is to not let you down.”

He takes his clean glasses from me and, sounding a little choked up, says, “Thank you, Richie Wallingford.” Grinning, he puts his glasses on, gulps, and gets serious, saying, “You’re going to make me cry. That was so sweet of you to say. I’ll be your man, and I’m not going to let you down either.” 

Staring into one another’s eyes, we both look like we’re going to cry, then Ronny goes, “It gives me a hard-on seeing you wearing my clothes.” He said that so seriously, so sincerely, we both burst out with a laugh, Ronny asking, “Is this really happening to us? Is this real, are we real, or are we in each other’s dreams?”

I say, “It’s a true miracle,” and he steps away, but I say, “Stop for a second,” and get his comb off the bureau. As Pat did for me a few times, which I thought was sexy, I tried combing a small pompadour in Ronny’s bangs. He stands up straight, grinning as I comb through his hair, our eyes shining. We take deep, staggering breaths, touch each other’s cheeks, and nod at one another, love dripping from our eyes. 

His bangs flop back on his forehead; he takes my hand, I drop the comb, and we go downstairs. 

I’m feeling, um, I don’t know. Even though Ronny hasn’t done anything special, I feel that he’s looked out for and wonderfully taken care of me. At the dinner table, his parents smile too hard and act too formally, too stiffly, but we’re all working on being comfortable acknowledging Ronny’s and my recently confessed homosexuality. It’ll get easier with time, but Ronny’s right to get his parents and me working on being familiar with each other. Hell, we’re just beginning the process of becoming used to a new family dynamic. It’s new for all of us.

We’re all very polite and on good behavior, so I, for one, was glad when dinner was over. We were back in Ronny’s bedroom, congratulating each other for handling that okay, and we kept telling each other it’d get easier and become more natural with time. Still, I’m worried and ask, “Are we being pussies about this coming ‘out’ deal? It’s a strain being with people who we just recently confessed we’re gay.”

He’s putting my dirty clothes, including underpants wet with cum, in a plastic bag, saying, “It’s only our first week, baby, and, by the way, it’s been the best week of my life despite the trauma of coming out to my parents and the world.” 

I liked him calling me that term of endearment, so my eyes blink back a tear or two as I mumble, “It’s been traumatic for sure, Ronny.” He shakes his head, “Yes, but it’s worth all kinds of uncomfortable trauma to have you as my boyfriend. I can’t believe I have a boyfriend, never mind one as good-looking as you. You’re the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in person, and I mean that, no bullshit. Plain-looking Ronny Lynch has the cutest boyfriend in Pennsylvania.”

“You’re embarrassing me. Tell me more,” and we snicker; then he asks, “Do you want to go to the Sears lot?” I mumble, “Does the Pope shit in the woods? I mean, is a bear Catholic? ” We get into a laughing fit, hugging and kissing, our hands groping each other’s ass.  

I gasp, then mutter, “Jesus! I feel like I might cum in my pants again. You’re too attractive and smell too good; your body’s too hot and sexy, and it’s all way too arousing for me, Ronny.” Taking his hand, I place it on my junk, “Squeeze it, Ronny.”

“No way! If I do that, you’ll shoot off again, and I’m running out of clean underpants. Billy’s right; sometimes, it is necessary to take charge of you because you get carried away with things.”

I ask, “Was that you kidding again? Being funny?”

Nodding, “Yes, I was kidding, joking about that. You don’t need to be taken care of any more than I do. Or, maybe we both do, but if we do, we’ll take care of each other.”

Following Ronny to the stairs, I’m like, “You said your parents go out Saturday nights, so why go to Sear’s… He goes, “Shh! Please!”

He wasn’t joking this time, so, stopping on the stairs, I gave him a look like, ‘What the fuck?’ 
He whispers, “Oh, I didn’t mean to use that tone of voice. I’m sorry! It’s just that I was hoping to sneak out of the house without needing any more conversation with my parents, and you were talking loudly again.”

I quietly mutter, “I was talking normally, not loudly, but that’s okay. I won’t talk at all.” He grins and puts his finger on my lips, whispering, “Uh-huh, but, Shh! And, yeah, Billy said you pout at times, so…” 

His grin makes me smile, and I try to suck the finger he put on my lips. We start snickering again like little kids. “Shh, if you’ll be quiet for two seconds, we can slip out the front door. I can’t wait for Mom and Dad to go out. I want to fuck you at the Sears lot. I feel funny doing you with them in the house.”

I nod, murmuring, “Yes, I understand, Daddy,” and we, quiet as a couple of mice, slip out the front door and jog around the two end housing units to the back alley where I parked the car. In the alley, Ronny says, “I didn’t mean to talk quite as sternly to you as I did, and don’t call me daddy.”

We both laugh, sounding suspiciously like giggling. I’m giggling like a couple of little girls as I drive out of the alley onto the main street. I don’t need directions, as I’m beginning to know my way around Philly.”

Ronny says, “I’m going to ask you something, and I swear if you say no, it’s no problem. As a matter of fact, I expect you to say no, but I want to ask anyway.” Stopping at a red light, I look at him and say, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He smiles, “I haven’t told you what it is yet. Um, it’s this: would you go to church with me tomorrow morning?”

I nod, “Sure, I’ll go with you, although I don’t believe the part in the Bible about Jesus rising from the dead. I mean, some of the Bible is historical, but not all of it. Some of it is made up from stories.” There’s silence, so I glance at Ronny and see his jaw hanging open. I’m like, “What? Ah, are you Catholic or something? I hope you don’t think I’m dissing your religion or anything like that.”

Slowly shaking his head, he mumbles, “Well, you sort of are dissing my religion. Um, anyway, we go to church every Sunday, but we’re not Catholic. We’re nondenominational Protestants, and the church is just outside the city. Ah, you’re saying you don’t believe in Jesus Christ?”

“Oh, I believe he was a real historical figure, but it’s the raising from the dead part that, um… plus all the science about the Cosmos that’s available nowadays that wasn’t, um, known back two thousand years ago… ya know? Um, and the incredible size and scope of the Universe, a billion-billion light years and so forth, how would a God be available to listen to trillions of individual prayers, for example?”

He appears speechless, so I tentatively ask, “Do you still want me to come to church with you?”

“Well, yes, more than ever. We need to convert you to see the light. Actually, I’m amazed and thrilled you’re willing to come to church with me after finding out you’re an atheist.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Ronny, but I’m more like an agnostic than an atheist because I guess there could be a power or something that rules the Cosmos. Probably not, but who knows?”

Ronny says, “See, we’re just getting to know one another, Wallingford. My family is very religious. I pray every night, and I’ve been praying for you. Um, but so what if you’re not a believer? I don’t care. The fact that I don’t care surprises me, though… haha! I only care about you! I only want to be with you.”

I mumble, “Hootie & the Blowfish reference, cool,” as I drive past 69th Street, adding, “Nobody I know is as religious as you say you and your family are. Not that that’s a problem at all. Not at all for me. What else don’t we know about each other?”

Ronny shrugged, then said with his cute grin, “What was a Hootie & the Blowfish reference?” Glancing at him, “Only the group’s huge hit ‘I Only Wanna Be With You’ that’s what you said about me. And what else don’t we know about one another?

“You don’t know that I like vanilla ice cream best; then pistachio is my second favorite ice cream.” I say, “Vanilla is my favorite ice cream too, then chocolate. Here’s a secret I haven’t told anyone for fear of being mocked. I like broccoli, but not if it’s overcooked.”

We laugh and exchange goofy likes and dislikes until I drive onto the Sears parking lot. Stopping behind the dumpster, I look at Ronny and say, “I’m shivering with anxiousness for you to make love to me.” My hand goes to the back of his head, gently pulling his head over so I can kiss him on the lips, then murmur, “Oh no, Ronny! I can’t help getting emotional again.” 

We snicker, then he says, “You make me feel important, Wallingford. You make me feel as if I actually am your man when we fuck. I get such a rush from the way you, um, idolized me. I’m wicked psyched to give you the best fucking you’ve ever had.” Nodding, “Wow, um, should we get in the back, Ronny.”

He takes a deep shuddering inhale, then lets it out slowly, nodding, “Uh-huh,” and we get in the back. Immediately, we’re fumbling around, making out and rubbing each other’s ass and junk, then bumping into one another, anxiously getting our pants down. Ronny strokes his hard-as-steel pink-skin spike, his almost four-inch boner. I’m leaning over the back seat, my forehead against the back of the back seat, my feet on the floor, and my bare ass pushed up. Looking back, I watch Ronny stroking his dick until he sees me gawking at him, and he spanks my ass, saying, “What are you looking at, pretty boy?”

We snicker again; then he squeezes between my ass and the back of the front bucket seat as I’m anxiously sucking on my lips, arousal building in me at the speed of light. I nod encouragingly as Ronny’s almost four-inch hard boner, poking straight out from his neat pubic patch, drips some precum. He holds his boner between his thumb and forefinger, scrunching his face up, then guides it to my quivering asshole.

The pointy rosy-pink head is shiny with precum, but I murmur, “Could you use some saliva, too, Ronny.” He drools a long bubbly string of saliva onto my asshole. I go, “Oh!” as the wetness runs down my ass crack. Ronny humps his pointy-headed boner in past my sphincter muscles, moaning, “Umm, oooh…” as I groan, “Ow!” and he pushes his cock the rest of the way up my ass and grinds his crotch against my butt cheeks, his fingers digging into my hips.

The flash of pain from my anus faded quickly as my cock throbs in its tightness; the thrill of having Ronny’s hard penis inside me overrides any lingering pain. No one else has affected me this way. It’s like Ronny is electricity, his little penis electrifying every nerve ending in my rectum as I shudder with sexual pleasure. 

When he begins thrusting his iron dick in my ass, it’s an indescribably scintillating sexual experience that nearly blows my mind. Too quickly, I make my high-pitched girlish squeal as a hot, creamy load of cum comes screeching up from my balls to blow out my wooden boner, blasting against the back of the back seat, cum spray flashing back on me and some spray hitting my face.

When my climax blew, my hips humped forward so hard that Ronny’s short boner pulled entirely out of my ass. As I’m shaking from my violent climax, Ronny blows his load onto my buttocks and up my back a little. Making a snarling sound, he hammers his cock back up my ass, then moans quietly in pleasure, humping it back and forth inside me.

“Oh, fuck, Ronny. That feels so good,” as I lay my chest on the seat, the top of my head pushed into the back of the seat, I keep my ass pushed up for Ronny. He has a hand on either side of my hips as he steadily fucks me, both of us moaning a mantra of, “Oh, oh, oh, umm…”

There are no slapping sounds from his steady thrusting that quickly puts me into a wonderfully dreamy trance of extreme pleasure. Ronny is magic to me as we float together among the stars, a constant vibrating pleasure coming from my rectum. My dick again is as hard as a rock and throbbing with pleasure. 

After a while, I’m dreamily amazed that Ronny is able to maintain a boner this long. Still, eventually, I forget about it and assume his dick will maintain its hardness sliding up and back inside my body as reliably as my beating heart. I’d guess it was twenty minutes before my second climax snuck up on me and woke me from my pleasurable dreamy trance to take me to thrilling new heights of pleasure. And now there are slapping sounds as Ronny’s thrusting faster and harder, smacking against my buttocks, slap, slap, slap.

Apparently, both our second climax buttons got punched simultaneously, as we’re both energetically involved now. I’ve lifted off the seat, stroking my hard cock and gasping while pushing my ass back into Ronny’s thrusts, “Ah, ah, ah, Ronny… ooh!” 

A few seconds later, unable to help it, we both make embarrassing squeals, our climaxes blowing with incredibly sexy, hot, brilliant sensations bursting all over both of us. We couldn’t help but squeal out like that, and since we both did it, it was all right. Shaking with a gooey warm pleasure continuing to spread all over me, I go, “Mmm, Ronny, oooh, umm, feels so good…” 

Ronny’s chest is on my back now, his heart pounding hard on my spine; some of the gooey stuff he shot inside me is already drooling out around his dick as his arms hug my stomach. I sink back onto the seat, and we stay like this, Ronny on my back, his dick up my ass, for a few minutes, our chests heaving.

With a sigh, Ronny thrusts his dick in my sloppy ass once, twice, and then his now flaccid penis slides out to lie wetly on my right butt cheek. After a while, Ronny mutters, “Damn,” and rotates his hips, dragging his penis across both my buttocks, smearing cum in a line across both cheeks, and then Ronny flops on the seat beside me. I pat his thigh and murmur, “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. You’ve gotta be my man forever.”

He pats my shoulder, “Yeah, I believe I will be,” and, blowing out air noisily, I push off the seat to turn around, lean over the back of the passenger seat, and get the box of wet wipes I put in the glove compartment a week ago. Standing bent over, I pull out some wipes, pass two to Ronny, then use two to wipe at his cum that’s drooling out of my ass. Then wipe my dick and the front of my thighs where cum spray from the first climax hit and is still sticky.

Putting two wipes on the seat next to Ronny, I sit my bare ass on them, smile at him, and murmur, “My idol and my main man, Ronny Lynch. I’m feeling wicked lucky to be your boy.” He smiles, “And you’re a damn good bottom boy, too!” Sliding over to him, I lean against him, mumbling, “You’re never getting rid of me, Ronny.”

“Good, I’ll be your man if you say so, but in my mind, you’re the most important person in the world, and I’m always going to treat you that way.”

Grinning at him, “Seriously, though, how can this be, Ronny? How can we be so quickly immersed in one another’s life? I know it’s real and happening right this second, but how is it possible for everything to be so perfect? We met ten days ago when we didn’t even like one another, and then, bam! just like that, we’re lovers for life. Are you sure all this isn’t too good to be true?”

He’s shaking his head, “I don’t know, but I’m starting not to care if it’s too good to be true or not. I like living in this fairytale with you, and it’s all not only happening but getting better by the minute. You’re my dream lover and the best friend I’ve always wanted, and other than our looks, you’re my identical twin brother that I fantasized would be so cool to have, and as I already said, you’re also the most important person in the world to me.” 

I’m squinting because my eyes are tearing up again. Ronny puts his arm across my shoulders and pulls me against him so that half my chest is against his, my face on his shoulder. He rubs my back, mumbling, “Go ahead and have a good emotional cry, Richie. It’s okay. Hell, I cry sometimes myself.”

“It’s just that I’m so insanely happy being with you, Ronny. I find myself babbling, trying to explain how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Plus, you’re so nice to me, and you fuck me in the most perfect way imaginable. It all makes me emotional.” Then I grin, “Plus, I love the way you look in those ‘effing glasses!”

He goes, “Jesus, you like the craziest things, Wallingford.” My right leg goes over both of Ronny’s legs, and I sit on his lap, facing him, still grinning as I mutter, “My man! Take care of me.”

We snicker as he hugs me and then rocks me side to side a little, me docile in his surprisingly strong arms. Skinny boys are stronger than you think. Then, snuggling together, we make out the way lovers do it, slow and juicy, taking turns with the passive/submissive roles while quietly moaning with arousal for one another. 

After a while, Ronny slides us both onto our sides on the bench seat, and we lie in each other’s arms, not talking, just doing some gentle rubbing on each other as our cocks, hard as petrified wood, again begin leaking precum. Ronny murmurs, “Can you get around, facing the back of the seat, Richie? I wanna fuck you again so badly I feel dizzy with it.”

“Uh-huh, right away, Ronny,” and when I do that, a second later, I grunt as his boner punches in past my sphincter muscles again, and it’s another fifteen-or-twenty-minute-long act of love-making, also known as anal intercourse. 

With me experiencing ecstasy, Ronny does slow, steady thrusting for a long time, the vibrations of sexual pleasure rising higher and higher until I could scream at how good it felt. Ronny gets rough at the end, and we both blow our small loads of cum, mine feeling spectacular, streaking out and blasting against the back of the seat. Fourth climaxes in a couple-hour period tend to be small, and mine was, but at the same time, it felt crazy good!

Ronny made a screeching sound, climaxing and refilling my bowels with his cum that immediately began drooling right back out around Ronny’s softening dick and then rolling under me to wet the back of my balls. We’re sweaty by now, and whether he realized it or not, Ronny was dominant in wrestling me around until I was facing him, and then he held me tightly, my arms pinned to my sides as he kissed my face here and there, then he licked across my lips. As I’ve often said, the top guy can’t help but feel a touch of dominance over his bottom boy, who, by the very nature of being a bottom, is submissive to his top. This got into Ronny’s head for a while, and I was sure to be docile for my man.

I loved him acting that way, but it’s not his nature to be dominant for long, so he soon loosened his hold on me and acted embarrassed, mumbling, “Holy shit, what was I doing, Wallingford? Haha, grabbing you like that, I’m sorry. What’s going on with me turning into an animal? Um, did I squeeze you too hard?”

“No, no! You were perfect, Ronny. I swear, you were the perfect top lover; the best lover any bottom boy could ever want. You’re the best!” He kisses my cheek, muttering, “You flatter me way too much, but thank you. Um, do you want to get up now? We’re sweaty as hell.” 

As we’re sitting up, he says, “You’re so complimentary. God, if you’re not careful, I’ll start believing I’m as good as you say, and then I’ll get a big head about it. I mean, are you serious about how good I’m doing at topping my lover boy of a lifetime?”

Oh man, he wants more encouraging comments about his sexual prowess. We start getting dressed, “Uh-huh, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. You’re the best lover I’ve ever had, and by a large margin, too. I can’t fantasize about a better one than you. Well, I don’t think there is any way to be better than you are.”

He shakes his head, “You’re exaggerating again, but thanks. I love it… haha. It builds up my confidence hearing you praise me like that, especially because I’m always trying to please you. I’m thrilled it’s working.”

Driving back through Philly, we goof off, telling one another more things about ourselves. Things we like and things we don’t like about music, sports, TV, a little more about religion, the kinds of people we like and don’t like, and anything we can think of. We’re doing it for laughs a little bit, but we’re learning about each other as well.

At eleven thirty, Ronny wants to stop at Lilly’s Diner. Parking, I ask, “What do you like about this diner?” He mutters, “For one thing, it’s open. Fast food joints around here are closed by now. I’ve eaten here, and I especially like their pies. They make good coffee. It’s like Dunkin coffee.”

Inside, it smells like coffee. There are four people at the counter and a group of guys in a booth who appear to be in their early twenties and have obviously been drinking. None of these people pays any attention to us. We sit in a booth as far from the drunks as we can, and a waitress comes right over. She’s making a snapping sound as she’s chewing gum and asking, “What can I get you, boys?”

Neither of us orders pie; we order cheeseburgers and vanilla milkshakes. She gives us a squinty-eyed look and mumbles, “Uh-huh, coming right up.” When she walks away, Ronny asks, “What’s her problem?” Shrugging, “I don’t know,” then I realized what her problem was. “Oh, ha-ha, Ronny, we’re sitting on the same side of the booth.”

“Holy shit, you’re right. Well, that’s because we’re in love,” and, grinning, he tries holding my hand. I pull my hand away, mumbling, “Those drunk guys might get frisky if they notice two queers in the diner with them,” and I slide out of the seat to sit across from Ronny, mumbling, “As you said, Ronny, we don’t want to flaunt our gayness in everyone’s face. That’s looking for trouble.”

The burgers are greasy and delicious. The milkshake was real, not that shit you get at McDonald’s that they call milkshakes. We enjoy our late-night snack and manage to avoid confrontation with anyone, but Ronny insists on paying.

Outside, I say, “Next time, it’s my treat.” As I drive to Ronny’s house, he tells me about the part-time job he got as a bagboy for the ACME Market on 90th Street. I tell him about my bag boy experiences. Then, we sit in the idling car across the street from his house. We’re holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes, “Wallingford, er, Richie, this was my favorite night of my life. I couldn’t love you more, although I bet I’ll find a way to do that.”

We kiss, and I murmur, “That’s exactly how I feel about tonight,” and my eyes tear up. He nods, looking serious as he wipes my tears with the pad of his thumb. Then, not mentioning the tears that are running down my face again, he says, “Billy wants us to rent the apartment as of July first, a month before my parents think we need it. I’m all for the July date, though, because I desperately want to sleep with you, and with the apartment, we won’t need to say these goodbyes at night that get you overly emotional.”

Undoing my seat belt, I lean over. Two more tears run down my cheeks, and we hug. Ronny murmurs, “Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to be a big baby like you.” He rubs my head, “I’m just kidding you, Wallingford. I was trying to be funny again, which I’m not good at. You can cry if you want.”

“I’m not crying, Ronny. Something flew in my eye.” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, sure,” and we give each other a really sweet kiss. He says, “I’m getting out now. Not that I want to, but I know you’d keep me here until the sun comes up if I let you. I love you, Wallingford. Um, are you still coming to church with me?”

Nodding, I wipe my eyes with the heel of my hands, mumbling, “Yes, what time should I be here?” He says, “Ten-thirty. We go to the eleven o’clock service, and after the service, we get brunch at the Pancake House.” 

Another quick kiss and Ronny gets out, as I call after him, “I love you.” He smiles, then runs across the street and goes inside his house without looking back. I watched him, then drive away with tears still running, but I’ve never been happier. I don’t wipe away the tears because these tears are Ronny’s.

The drive home went without a problem, and at home, I unlocked the front door and quietly went right upstairs. In my bedroom, I got undressed, used the bathroom, then fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Sunday morning, I awoke at nine-thirty, pissed off at myself for not setting my phone alarm for nine. Still, I had time to shower and quickly get dressed in my best clothes. I put on my newest khaki pants with a leather belt, a white dress shirt, and a striped tie. With loafers on my feet, I hurry downstairs and into the kitchen, saying, “Hi, Mom! I hope I can use the car.” 

“Oh, you’re dressed up, Gary. What are, um, why…?” “I’m going to church with my boyfriend, Ronny, and I don’t want to be late, so thanks for the car. Good morning, Dad!” and I’m out the door in a flash. Dad, looking shocked to see me dressed up like this, held his coffee mug in the air the entire thirty whirlwind seconds I was in the kitchen.  

Traffic going through Philadelphia Sunday morning wasn’t bad at all, and I made good time to Ronny’s house. Plus, there was an open parking spot only two houses down from his place. I’m ringing the doorbell at ten twenty-five. Ronny answers the door, smiling when he sees me, “Wallingford, you’re so sweet to get all dressed up like that. Omigod, you look so nice!” 

He takes my hand and pulls me inside, and we kiss for five seconds. He’s wearing regular clean jeans, a pullover Polo shirt, and sneakers on his feet. I use my fingers to swipe his bangs over to the side and off his forehead as he tells me, “It’s kind of casual wear at church, but you look beautiful,” and he hugs me, whispering, “I love you for getting dressed up and going to church with me.”

His mom walks into the living room, dressed nicely but not in the way I expected. Nothing special, and then Mr. Lynch is dressed like Ronny. Mrs. Lynch says, “You are a handsome young man, Gary, or is it, Richie? I forget, but you look very nice.” Then to Ronny, “Are you driving there with us, or…?” 

He looks at me, “Do you want to drive? Or we can go with Mom and Dad.”

Well, I assumed that was a rhetorical question. Obviously, I’d much rather drive than go with Ronny’s parents and the awkward small talk during the drive sitting in the backseat. I shrug, “Um, I don’t mind driving.”  

Ronny says to his parents, “Richie and I will see you there. We’ll save seats for you.”

It’s a ten-minute drive, and we beat his parents easily.  The church is a large building painted white with a steeple, and it, um, looks like a church. The many rows of pews were in two sections with an aisle in between that led to the altar. Behind the altar is a large area for a choir. There’s also an area for what appears to be a church band, although that’s a new concept to me. 

The few times as a youngster that my folks took me to church, there was a choir, but the only musical instrument was an organ. Here there is a drums setup and a piano, plus seats for other musicians. Then, behind that is a large crucifixion. So, yeah, it’s a church. This one fills up fast, so it’s a good thing Ronny saved two seats for his mom and dad near the front. I tried to get him to sit on a pew far back from the front, but he said they always sit up front.

There are song sheets and a program that I read as Mr. and Mrs. Lynch talked with fellow churchgoers they know from coming here every Sunday for years, and Ronny talks with a young guy sitting behind us who is fat but, from what I hear, seems to be a very nice person. I’m more interested in what I’m reading than I am in the fat boy. If I’m reading the program correctly, I’m going to be here for quite a long while.

It turned out to be a two-hour church service. Shockingly, I liked it. The first forty-five minutes were good music selections, almost rock music except with religious lyrics. The band was like a rock band, and the choir was good, but here’s the thing. Everybody stood and sang for the first forty-five minutes. At first, I was wicked self-conscious about singing, but Ronny kept patting my back as he sang. He’s wearing glasses because I wanted him to, so I felt like I could sing for him.

It became a lot of fun, and we looked at one another, smiling and singing loudly. Everyone was singing loudly, so no one could hear our voices from the rest of the congregation, which sounded pretty good. Everyone seemed in a great mood afterward, sitting down for the announcements, which took ten minutes or so. The announcements were about next week’s activities, and apparently, some of these people’s entire social lives had to do with church activities. Ronny didn’t pay any attention to the announcements, which relaxed me as it doesn’t appear he gets involved in the church’s extracurricular activities. 

Then six or seven boys with short neat haircuts wearing blue sports coats and light tan khakis, who Ronny said were called ushers, passed baskets up and down each pew, row by row, collecting the offering. Some people put smallish envelopes containing checks or money in the baskets, and others put cash. The Lynch family put an envelope. I looked at Ronny, wondering if I was supposed to pay. He shook his head and squeezed my hand. God, I love how he looks in those glasses.

Next was the sermon that lasted over forty-five minutes, but the pastor was young, and I thought he was cute for a thirty-year-old man. I’ll bet my left nut he was gorgeous as a fifteen-year-old. Plus, his voice was so smooth it hypnotized me. I hope I’m as cool-looking at thirty as Pastor Miller. He read Bible passages and then explained what they meant and how they applied in today’s modern world. He slipped in, shoe-horned in some far-out rationalizations making the Bible passages apply nowadays, but he did a good job overall. 

He summed things up and then encouraged the young people to attend Wednesday night’s service. Ronny looked at me, raising his eyebrows which I took as him inviting me to come with him Wednesday night. I pretended I didn’t understand and just smiled at him.

Finally, it was over, and the over two hundred worshipers filed out with much chatter, and then we stood outside as Ronny’s parents talked with people. The fat kid waved at Ronny, so he waved back, but the kid didn’t stop to talk. Ronny said, “That’s Andy Burke, and he’s going to the basement for coffee and sweet rolls. We always skip that and have brunch instead.”

We met his parents at the restaurant, and that was fine. Then, I was uncomfortably the center of attention with Ronny’s parents asking me questions, similar to how my parents have asked me questions all my life. They’re nosing; parents are nosy. 

They wanted to know if I liked my first time at a nondenominational service. Did I like the music? They wanted to know what church my family attended, plus personal questions about my religious beliefs. It was all done, very friendly and nice, and thank God my boyfriend Ronny jumped in with answers for me when I was going, “Um, ah…” about matters like, do I believe in Jesus Christ? Between Ronny and me, we sidestepped some parts of my religious beliefs that Mr. and Mrs. Lynch probably would find disturbing, but mostly, I was able to say I liked the service honestly. 

Making Ronny proud of me, I told his parents I’d like to attend next Sunday’s service if it was alright with them. Of course, it was alright with them. Then I hung around the Lynch’s house all afternoon watching a Phillies game on TV with Ronny and his dad, Ronny’s arm protectively across my shoulders and us exchanging smiles every two minutes. I got a hard-as-steel boner being together like this with Ronny. 

After the baseball game, Ronny and I took a ride on his motorbike to get out of the house. When we got back at five o’clock, his parents were in the backyard having cocktails, so Ronny and I had sex in his bedroom, then lay together silently in each other’s arms on his bed for ten minutes or so. Then I had to get home for Sunday dinner, but I promised to pick Ronny up tonight around seven-thirty.

What a wonderful day with Ronny Lynch… this can’t be too good to be true, can it?

To be continued… 

Jim drove carefree along the empty old road, humming one of his favorite songs playing on the tape recorder. He was traveling from the best holiday. However, each of his summer holidays turned out to be the best. It involved drinking, partying and a lot of sex with various people. With the latter, his young, gorgeous body, bulging with muscles, helped him a lot.

Jim was driving completely alone, drinking beer left over from the last party. He sat in an unbuttoned sleeveless shirt, which perfectly showed off his powerful torso. The music was playing at full volume, echoing throughout the area through the open car windows. The jock was singing along to the beat of the music, enjoying the freedom, when suddenly his voice was interrupted by a signal. Jim fell silent and looked at the fuel gauge. The arrow was almost near the letter E.

“Damn,” Jim said irritably, stopping his car. He parked on the side of the road and turned off the engine. Hoping to find a spare can of gasoline, he went to the trunk and opened it. To his deep disappointment, there was only beer. Jim looked at it sourly and closed the trunk.

“Well, of course,” he said, offended at himself. The guy took out his phone to call for the car to be towed, but as luck would have it, there was no network. Jim growled and angrily hit the trunk of the car. He lowered his head in despair. His good mood and sense of freedom seemed to be blown away by the wind.

The bodybuilder raised his head and began to examine the area around him. There was an old and empty road around. During all the time he drove along it, Jim has never met any other cars or people.

Then he noticed a wide path leaving the deserted road to the left. Looking towards this path, Jim noticed how a huge chimney and a tall building towered above the tops of the trees.

“It seems there is some kind of settlement or city there,” Jim thought hopefully. Without thinking twice, he decided to go in that direction for help. The guy turned off the car engine and headed towards the mysterious city along the path.

The road ran through a dense forest. The air was filled with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Slowly Jim’s irritation faded away, giving way to peace.

Soon this path led to a small town. Judging by the appearance, it has been abandoned for many years. All the small buildings had numerous cracks, from under which bushes and various plants grew. Most of the windows were broken or missing, leaving only dark, gaping holes in the buildings.

Jim walked down one of the abandoned streets. He took out his phone to see if the network appeared. She wasn’t there.

“Damn!” Jim swore loudly, holding the phone up, still hoping to get a signal. But everything was unsuccessful.

“There’s no signal, and there’s no people either, so I just have to do everything myself,” thought an irritated Jim again. He decided to find a can of gasoline

Moving forward along the destroyed street, the guy decided to enter abandoned buildings. Having walked around several dilapidated buildings, he found nothing worthwhile, only useless garbage.

Coming out of the last building, the guy noticed that the sun began to set. Evening came. How long did he stay here? Jim headed towards the car, leaving the search for the ill-fated canister for the next day.

In the gathering dusk, the dilapidated buildings began to look ominous. Blackness yawned from the empty window frames. It felt like one of them was watching a young bodybuilder. Jim was alarmed and he quickened his pace towards the path leading out of the city through the forest.

This time the forest did not seem as peaceful as it had during the day. Jim quickly walked through it, shining the flashlight of his phone and being frightened by every rustle around him.

Finally, having reached his car, the guy calmed down. Having settled down in the back seat, he turned on his favorite TV series that he had previously downloaded to his phone, ate dinner with the food he had taken for the road, stripped down to his boxers and fell deeply asleep.

 

—————————–

 

He had a dream. He was lying in some dark and slippery place. His entire body was covered in mucus. He could neither move nor scream. His muscular body seemed to be paralyzed. He felt something slimy, reminiscent of hundreds of worms, swarming under his back. Despite all the disgust Jim felt, his dick was rock hard.

One of the long worms, or rather tentacles, began its movement from his foot, circling each toe and causing a tickle to which his body could not react. It moved along his leg, circling it in a circle. Jim didn’t see it, but he felt it very well. To Jim’s horror it reached his pubic area. And then this creature wrapped itself around his raging boner. With the same circular movements, the slimy tentacle made its way up the guy’s trunk straight to his dickhead. Every movement of this tentacle caused pleasant sexual pleasure in the young body of the jock, despite the fact that Jim himself lay in fear, eyes bulging and wanting it to stop.

His erect penis was covered with the mucus of this strange tentacle. And not only with mucus, but also with his own precum. Having reached the pissing slit, the tentacle stopped, as if thinking. The bodybuilder was afraid of what would happen next. Suddenly, the tentacles penetrated his penis, causing a stream of pain and incredible pleasure…

 

—————————–

 

The guy woke up abruptly in fright from the nightmare he had experienced and sat up. He was covered in a cold sweat, and his breathing was rapid.

“Damn it, I could have dreamed something like this!” Jim thought, bringing his breathing back to normal. He looked down and saw that his boxers were stained with a wet spot of his own seed.

“This hasn’t happened to me for a long time,” Jim muttered with a dissatisfied look. Also, to his surprise, his balls hurt and there was a strange tingling sensation inside. The guy decided to ignore this feeling, citing a wet dream.

It was already day outside, the sun was shining joyfully through the car windows. Suddenly the young bodybuilder noticed that the door of his car was slightly open. How could he forget to close the door? “Okay, there’s no one here anyway,” the stud reassured himself.

Jim changed his soiled underwear and got dressed, ready to go in search of fuel again. Otherwise he won’t get out of here.

The young guy again set off along the same path to the deserted town. Coming out of the forest through the path into the town, Jim decided to take a different route in search of a suitable building in which he could find a can of gasoline. Wandering around the outskirts of the town, he was still haunted by a feeling of anxiety. It seemed as if someone or something was watching him from every dark corner.

“We need to quickly find this damn canister and get out of here,” anxious thoughts flashed through Jim’s head. Plucking up courage, stud continued his search.

Oddly enough, there were old abandoned cars on the streets. Unfortunately, Jim could not find even a hint of fuel in them. Meanwhile, his balls were filled with thick cream, and the desire to empty them grew in his head.

Rubbing his crotch, Jim tried to concentrate on his main goal – to get out of this outback, preferably in his car. At the end of the dilapidated street one could see the remains of some kind of brick factory. The young man went in this direction, hoping to find what he wanted.

On the way to the abandoned building, Jim began to notice that the desire to release his sperm was growing. Trying not to pay attention to this, he began to inspect the plant. At the same time, the feeling of anxiety seemed to intensify. He had to muster up his courage again to explore this place. He needed fuel, he couldn’t be distracted.

The guy again touched his crotch, through which he could clearly feel his half-engorged penis. “Is it just me or are my nuts feeling cramped?” Jim wondered in his head. The desire to relieve tension was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“To hell,” the guy muttered decisively and lowered his shorts. With every movement of the jock, his penis became filled with blood, knowing what would happen to him next. Soon Jim pulled out a fully erect penis from under his clean boxers. As soon as the bodybuilder’s strong hands rested on his willing boner, a stream of precum immediately flew out of it and fell to the floor, leaving a thin string behind it.

“Something is wrong with me,” thought an aroused Jim. But he didn’t care, at this moment he wanted only one thing – to satisfy his desires, and he surrendered to the pleasure that completely absorbed him.

He took off his shirt, completely exposing his muscular torso, and tossed it aside. The bodybuilder leaned his back against the brick wall, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of roughness. His body completely surrendered to this fleeting passion.

Jim threw his head back and began to stimulate his erect penis with masturbating movements. His body responded perfectly to this with waves of pleasure. The feeling of anxiety was carried away by the fire of pleasure that began on the muscular guy’s penis.

At that moment, all that existed for him was his body and the pleasure it received. “I’ve never had such pleasure in my life from a simple jerk-off,” Jim noted, continuing to masturbate.

He began to moan quietly, which were clearly audible in the echoing room of the abandoned factory. As he got closer and closer to the point of no return, his moans became louder. At the moment when his erect penis was almost ready to erupt with seed, Jim was attacked.

Something cold and slimy quickly wrapped itself around the bodybuilder’s muscular arms and with incredible force pulled them in different directions, forcibly separating them from the thirsty dick.

“What the fuck!?” cried the frightened Jim, who was just beginning to recover from his outburst of passion. He looked at his hands and noticed in horror that they were wrapped in black tentacles, an exact copy of the nightmare from his dream. In a panic, he began to pull his arms in an attempt to free himself, tensing every muscle, but his bodybuilder strength was not enough. As soon as he wanted to use his trained legs, these slippery appendages instantly grabbed his legs, completely immobilizing him.

All that the young jock was capable of was to wriggle his muscular torso and swing his throbbing penis, from which translucent liquid was pouring as if from a tap.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” was all Jim could say as he tried to get out of his slimy trap. Strange, but even in such a situation, when his fear almost reached the point of insane panic, his erected dick wanted more.

After some attempts to free himself, his body became tired and he calmed down, trying to muffle his fear and assess the situation. But he still wanted to cum. Jim looked at his dick, wanting to pounce on it and quickly do his business. But he could only watch as his boner spewed precum.

Then, after some time, an incomprehensible amorphous creature crawled up, similar to a slug, from which the very tentacles grew, holding the excited muscular stallion.

“What the fuck are you?!” Jim shouted, looking at the creature with a frightened look. Fear took hold of Jim again and he began to squirm, trying to get out of this situation. But the creature was noticeably stronger. The jock felt like a fly caught in the web of a big spider. Is it going to eat him? But even in such a situation, he strongly wanted to free his nut.

Suddenly, several more wet, shiny tentacles emerged from the creature. One of them was very thin and translucent. They all reached out to the writhing stallion. Or rather, to the area of his crotch.

“Get away from me, you fiend of hell!” shouted Jim with a mixture of fear and rage. He didn’t know what this creature was going to do to him, but he definitely didn’t like it. One of the tentacles reached out to his throbbing cock and wrapped itself around its base. A groan involuntarily escaped from the mouth of the jock, because even this touch on his penis almost made him cum right on all these tentacles.

Another tentacle quickly wrapped itself around his now large balls. The muscleman growled, trying to break free and free himself from the unpleasant feeling of pressure on his penis and balls, but it was all in vain, this creature completely ignored his protests, thereby showing his superiority and complete control of the bodybuilder’s body.

And another tentacle reached directly towards his dickhead. It approached Jim’s pissing slit leaking with precum and seemed to think, watching the movements of the penis. Suddenly, two other tentacles squeezed his penis and balls for a moment to the point of pain that Jim screamed in his guttural voice and froze, and at the same moment this thin translucent tentacle burst right into his penis, which caused another flash of pain, forcing the helpless jock to sob and crouch as much as possible.

With a face that described the discomfort of this position, Jim got used to the new sensations; he no longer felt pain. But the desire to cum only intensified. Suddenly, one of the tentacles holding his penis began a masturbating movement, simultaneously lubricating the jock’s aroused boner with its mucus.

“Damn, what is this thing doing to me?” Jim thought anxiously. But these movements sent his body into an ecstasy of pleasure. Moans escaped from the aroused man, unable to stop the unwanted manipulations. Each slow movement of the slimy tentacle caused the wildest pleasure.

While his muscular body reveled in the pleasure of cock stimulation, another tentacle approached him from behind. Jim, completely absorbed in erotic feelings, noticed this abomination only when it touched his thigh from behind.

“Oh fuck,” the stallion said, feeling another slimy mess make its way along his muscular thigh, leaving a wet trail of mucus. It slowly made its way up, outlining the thigh muscles, making them shine. The tentacle penetrated under the lowered shorts, and then under the boxers of the jock. His target was the hole between the buttocks.

When the helpless stallion realized this, he began to grunt, growl and squirm in the futile hope of breaking free and escaping, resisting the sexual manipulation of his cock. However, nothing could stop this creature. The slimy black appendage slowly made its way to the anus, completely ignoring weak attempts at resistance. It easily reached the young man’s virgin hole and, with some effort, penetrated inside, leaving a wet trail of mucus.

Jim screamed, and then his scream turned into the guttural growl of a trapped beast. The tentacle penetrated further and further into the rectum, filling it with its own mucus. No matter what predicament his sweaty, pumped body was in, no matter how much discomfort he received from this position, he received great pleasure.

It was unwanted pleasure, it was disgusting, but the bodybuilder moaned from the stimulation, wanting to cum. He looked at this monster with rage on his face, periodically distorted by grimaces of inevitable sexual pleasure

“Fucking beast,” was all the guy held by the black tentacles could say in between groans and grunts.

Then a thin translucent tentacle located in his erect penis began active movement inside his genitourinary system, which caused a strange sensation in the stallion. It moved inside, as if in search of something valuable. And then it stopped, causing a brief period of relief for the sweaty dude.

And after a moment, the vile tentacles in his anus and in his penis became active, acting together. The first pressed on the secretion-filled prostate gland, causing an injection of wild pleasure that almost suffocated the helpless bodybuilder. It then continued methodically stimulating the prostate.

At the same time, the tentacle located in his penis began sucking movements. And Jim, drowning in an ocean of forced pleasure, noticed how a transparent liquid flowed with fluctuating movements through this tentacle directly into the creature.

Jim moaned, trying to cope with the rush of sensation caused by the stimulation. It was a finely tuned mechanism for sexual stimulation of a man to extract precum. This creature dispassionately squeezed his juices out of the muscular guy, filling himself with them.

The stallion could not cope with these sensations. Forced pleasure filled his entire mind and body. Black, vile tentacles held onto his arms and legs, strong enough to render his large muscles useless. He could only squirm, trying to isolate himself from the stimulation, but it was all in vain.

Several tentacles continued to manipulate his penis, slowly masturbating him, bringing him to the edge, but others wrapped around his overflowing balls and hard throbbing penis, preventing him from achieving the urgently desired orgasm.

Another tentacle in his rectum continued its manipulations with the prostate of the jock, bringing him to sexual paradise. Or forcing him to go through all the circles of hell. Jim wanted to cum so badly, to empty his nuts with a powerful orgasm, but this disgusting creature did not give him that. How long can this go on? How long can his muscular body withstand this endless stimulation? It felt like torture.

Jim moaned, growled and grunted as the black slug pumped his juices out of him. The young man was disgusted, looking at how a slimy thin tentacle protruded from his penis, along which a clear liquid flowed. But the disgust was easily drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that turned into sexual torment.

Completely lost in time, the young muscleman did not know how long he had been here. Every second of sexual torture seemed like an eternity. Then the sexual stimulation of his prostate stopped, giving the young man a slight respite. The tentacle from his cock also stopped pumping precum out of him and came out of his tortured dick, causing a strange but tolerable sensation in his cock.

But the other tentacles still held the aroused penis and eggs of the exhausted Jim in their grip. He still wanted to cum more than ever. And then, the appendages of this amorphous creature on his balls and penis moved, changing their position. The tentacles on his sperm-filled balls began to wrap around them, taking up as much area as possible.

And then, to the great horror of the tired bodybuilder, they began to slowly squeeze the young man’s large nuts. The tentacles on his penis continued masturbating movements, stimulating the nerve endings on the frightened stallion’s boner.

At first, squeezing the balls only brought discomfort, but soon it turned into a crippling pain. The tentacles continued to squeeze with slow inevitability. Jim screamed and panicked and moved as much as he could, tensing his big muscles and trying to escape, but this creature continued to hold the muscular man, completely ignoring his attempts.

He kept screaming, experiencing intense pain in his groin and the pleasure of masturbating his mucus-covered penis. And then thick white sperm began to slowly flow out of the exhausted boner. He didn’t get any relief. But only severe pain and pleasure.

Jim growled and squirmed, and a large amount of sperm flowed from his penis directly onto the floor of the abandoned factory. One torture ended, only for another to begin. Thick white liquid continued to slowly flow out of his penis, and the young muscular stallion felt only pain and disappointment from the lack of orgasm.

The tentacles on his balls continued to squeeze them, squeezing as much sperm as possible out of the bodybuilder’s nuts. Then the creature, satisfied that there was no more sperm left in his sac, released his balls and cock.

Now Jim, held by slimy tentacles, felt only bottomless fatigue and pain in his exhausted scrotum. He could not bring himself to move, and his consciousness was clouded from fatigue and the torture he had endured. His eyelids fluttered, foreshadowing his imminent loss of consciousness. Before falling asleep, he noticed how this vile monster again extended its thin tentacle to his, already becoming a flaccid cock and penetrated it again. Jim did not react at all, but only fell into the darkness.

1. 

I’d been a writer for several years at Wilde, a digital lifestyle magazine with a bent for adult interests, meaning erotic literature and non-fiction. The glossy features about travel and design gave some cover of refinement to the more explicitly themed pieces. Wilde prided itself on droll wit, urbane style and sophistication. 

Wilde had a swanky office, a feature of which was a full wall mural of Oscar in a garden, painted by a famous artist who did the most gorgeous flowers. Across the mural in all caps gold leaf lettering was our slogan, taken from Oscar Wilde’s quote about the truth, RARELY PURE AND NEVER SIMPLE.

A visiting celebrity author – you’ve heard of her – once scrawled her name in lipstick on the mural. The poor staff managing her visit didn’t know how or even if to stop her. But the savvy owners afterwards hyped it, adding a clear glass cover and an array of lipsticks for the use of any celebrity writer or artist who visited, so they could add their name to the wall.

My boss was Adam Jeffers, an old school editor who came off as everyone’s dad. He was a good looking, sturdy guy with short blond hair thinning a bit at his crown, and some handsome stubble of his jawline, flecked with white whiskers. He didn’t fuss about his appearance, but he had a look that conveyed his authority and maintained it. 

People variously called him AJ or Jeff, depending on their relationship or mood. I called him Adam, or when I felt brazen, Boss. We had a different relationship than the mostly younger staff, as I was closest in age to him, we’d worked together the longest and I could get away with more, most of the time.

“Kid, we need to talk,” he said, stopping by my desk as I quickly changed the browser tab on my laptop.

I’d been dreading this a little. Between Adam at work, and my husband Will at home I felt I was dodging trouble all day every day. It was almost a relief to think it finally happened.

“As I’m sure you know,” he said, in his office, “your work is suffering. You’re distracted. You’re missing deadlines, and what’s worse you didn’t even realize you had them. You look addled half the time. You on something?”

“What? You mean drugs?  No. No no. Not at all.”

“Okay, that’s good. Anything you want to talk about?”

I sighed. I liked Adam but this wasn’t something I could say to him.

“Kid,” he continued. (I liked that he called me a kid.) “I’ll tell you what my old boss told me about having direct reports. Their lives are their business, he told me, don’t get mixed up in them. You tell them your expectations and you let them figure out how to live up to them. But I like you, and I like your work even better, when you’re on the ball anyway. So if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

“Well, it’s personal and kind of embarrassing.”

“You shit your pants or something? Because otherwise, I’m open to listen.”

“Okay. If you really want to know. I’m in love.” 

I could have said I was in love and it made me uncertain, unsteady, like it always did.

He sighed. “You’re married.”

I nodded. “And it involves sex.”

“Does this maybe have anything to do with James Austen?” he asked. (Boom!)

I was dumbstruck that he knew about James Austen 

“It’s complicated,” I said.

“Well. Start at the beginning.”

2.

“I met my husband Will in a cafe. It was my first week in a new city where I’d moved for a fresh start. I happened into a spot where he was a bit of a regular. We were seated next to each other at the bar and he commented on some items as I studied the menu. I asked about his favorites and he asked how I liked what I ordered. We had a few laughs, exchanged contact information and things just went from there.

“We started hanging out, going to movies together, and checking out new restaurants. To be honest I didn’t see him in any sort of romantic light at all. I enjoyed his company, but I thought of him as a sort of sweet nerd of a guy, with his round glasses and dowdy oversized hoodies, and his penchant for Lord of the Rings and the original Star Trek. 

“It all seemed safe, because the one thing I did not want was a boyfriend. I didn’t want to be in love. That was part of the point of moving, to start fresh without being bound by those relationships.

“I had one aspiration, which was to write. It was the only thing I was any good at, and the only thing I wanted to do. I was years out of college, but at my university I won the creative writing award every year. We had one of the few accredited creative writing departments in the country, and I still won, and I wasn’t even in the department, just an English major.

“The fly in the ointment was always boys. I’d had a few boyfriends, and every time I fell for a guy I’d lose my writing edge. It was like I could have the ambition to be a good writer or to be in love, but not both at the same time. So by the time I met Will I was resolved to a solitary life so I could be a good writer.

“Maybe it was the change of seasons and the shedding of cold weather clothes, but in the spring I started to notice that under his dorky clothes there was a fine body going on. I could see the muscles in his arms as we shed winter coats and sweaters. And as it got to be summer I could see how his chest filled out his t-shirts, and what a nice butt he had. I knew he had weights in his apartment, but I never thought he really used them. He never said anything about working out, though in retrospect there were a lot of things he never talked about. But it wasn’t just his body. I started to realize how cute his face was and how his smile and laugh made me feel.

“Despite my best plans, I started to fall for him, and things escalated on a predictable pattern. All I could think of was how adorable he was. I was distracted and off-kilter, and didn’t know how to be with him. And I felt certain he had no interest in me because he’d never said anything otherwise. I felt elated and hopeless at the same time all the time. I was lovesick.

“One night we went to a revival of Purple Rain. We made small talk in his car afterwards and I asked if he’d met any guys he was into. He said there was one guy he was interested in, but nothing more. He was driving through downtown where those big industrial orange cranes mark the way along the waterfront shipping docks, and we were both quiet. My heart was pounding and I asked, ‘Is it me?’

“He just smiled and reached over to let his hand rest on my thigh. We didn’t say another word the whole way to his place. I’d been there dozens of times, but this time we kissed. We tore off our clothes and kissed some more. I was in pretty good shape because I’ve always been long and lean, but I thought he looked amazing. We sucked each other’s cocks and kissed some more, and when his cock was good and slicked up with saliva I pulled him close so I could get him in me. I think it took him by surprise, maybe because I was so aggressive, or because of how easily I took his whole dick. It’s a good size, and fat too. But I wanted him in me desperately. Or maybe because just as I was getting the head in, I literally said. ‘Just so you know, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.’

“He held my legs apart and wailed into me as I ran my hands over his gorgeous chest and belly, with him filling me. Who knew the nerdy guy was such a hot fucker? He had me seeing stars and begging him to cum in me, which he did. His face was so sweet and handsome when he did. It took less than a minute for me to cum too, with him still in me, him gasping as my ass tightened on his dick. And all I could think was that I didn’t want to ever stop doing this with him.

“We’d been a couple ever since.

“My writing took a back seat, but I could be creative in my work. And I was in love.

“For the first few years we fucked like crazy. We fought too. Dumb kid stuff because we were dumb kids. One day we got into an argument – I don’t even remember why. But when we had our make-up sex I was fucking him his back on the sofa, and I’m on my knees, balls deep in him. And I can tell something’s off. His responses are all different. More intense, but also his mouth was open while I was thrusting into him, and the way he was breathing and looking at me was so pleading. And I swear it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I just shot in him. Caught even me by surprise, and it’s my dick.

“Then he pulled me close by my hips and said, ‘Stay in me. Just like this.’

“I had just cum so I wasn’t rock hard, but I stay there and my dick doesn’t quite go down because it feels so good. He’s grinding his ass around it and gasping. He strokes his cock once and then again and he fucking erupted in cum. We’d been together maybe three years and I’d never seen him do anything like that.

“Later on what he told me was that when he bottomed before he enjoyed it but it was uncomfortable too. That was news to me. Can you believe it? Three years and not a word about any discomfort. But anyway, he said that particular fuck just reoriented something in him, like there’d been a knot before that we just unraveled, leaving just a straight line inside him from my dick to every good feeling he could have.”

3. 

“That’s a very beauty-full story,” said Adam. “I hate to think how you’re going to tell me you fucked this up.”

“Will had been baking for a while,” I continued. “We had this idea of opening his own place, A little cafe with a basic menu where he’d make a selection of goods every day, and package some to take home. His parents floated him the money, I made enough to balance things out, and we opened the place.

“The thing is you don’t know how hard it is to run a small business until you do it. The initial excitement turned to a long, hard slog. He loved baking and was amazing at it. His biscuits are the next closest thing to an orgasm. But the business is so unforgiving, even if you do everything right. Like if there’s a snowstorm and you have no customers for a few days, you still need to pay your people and your bills. The stress was incredible.

“It happened so gradually we could hardly see it, but bit by bit it took over our lives. We were like a threesome: me, Will and the cafe, and none of us were getting what we wanted out of it. We were tired and shut down. To sedate ourselves, I later realized, we were overeating and over drinking. We got out of shape, and then really out of shape. I looked awful and felt worse. I was so uncomfortable in my own body it felt like I was wearing a costume I couldn’t get out of. And we sure as hell weren’t having sex.

“I still thought Will was totally hot. It was me I felt bad about. Sometimes I wanted to fuck him so bad, but I looked so bad compared to when we met. I worried he’d think I looked awful and I couldn’t do it. It got easier to just jerk off separately when the other wasn’t home.”

Adam rubbed his hands over his eyes like I’d given him a headache. “Jesus Christ. The gays. Do you want to know how many straight men could have sex and not take it because they’re feeling fat? None. Zero!”

“Well…”

He threw his hand up as if to salute, but touched his thumb and index finger to make an 0 shape.

“ZEE-RO.”

“Well. Anyway, I continued, “This is where James Austen comes in.

“We weren’t having much sex, and we reacted in different ways. Will did by using sex toys. Dildos and things. They started big and got bigger. He’s always been the physical one of us. I started writing smutty stories. I used to write them as a teenager, sometimes all night long, getting so horny, jerking off and then destroying them.”

“A loss to the literary canon,” Adam smirked.

“I didn’t say they were great. But in a way I was writing again. Not the way I’d always intended. And we were both were engaged in our own sex lives, parallel to, but not with each other.”

“Did Will read these stories of yours?”

I nodded no. “Never. He knew I was writing them, just like I knew about his toys. But he never expressed any interest. It’s funny too, because he’s a voracious history reader. It was like he’d read about every detail of the lives of every Roman emperor, understood their motivations and desires and follies, but had no curiosity about his own husband’s. Or maybe he did but never said it. 

“I started publishing my smut stories, online and through some self-publishing, under the name James Austen. And what got me off more than the stories was the response I got from readers. Some were crazy and some were dirty and some were sweet. But I felt a connection with them I wasn’t getting at home. I love Will, but he’s not a big communicator. But my fans were. And the more I wrote the more I was gratified.”

I took a pause. “I even had a kind of cyber fling with a co-writer once. It was all just words on screens, nothing real. But still.”

Adam shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“But how did you find James Austen?” I asked.

“I’m a well read person,” Adam answered. “And maybe you forgot, smut is our stock in trade. We just call it erotica. I like to know the market.”

I never knew really if Adam was straight or gay. I assumed the former. And I never knew when he was bullshitting me, even right then.

“But how did you know it was me?”

“You think I couldn’t recognize your typos when you haven’t had proper editing? Jesus. Nobody else on this green goddamn Earth uses ‘copious’ that often.”

“Did you like what you read?”

“A little too literary for my tastes. A little self indulgent. You’d have a much bigger readership if you’d just do some straight up feel good sex stories. It’s like you’re trying to make people eat their broccoli before they get dessert.”

“I know,” I replied. “I don’t make it easy for people to like me. But Will did, or at least used to.”

“The one about the fighter and the reporter, that was fun. Fun smut stories are good.”

“Actually, that was my take on Pride & Prejudice. See…”

“Kid, please.” He held up both hands. “Back to your life.”

4. 

“So even though we loved the cafe, running it took a toll. Things went on that way for a long time. I hate to tell you how long. When we finally sold it we pretended to be sad, but really we were relieved. Will got a good deal out of it and work doing recipe development. 

“I’ll never forget the day we signed it over, I had nothing to do because that had become my time to review the books, and all of a sudden there were no books. So instead I just went for a walk at the lake near our house. It was spring and the cherry blossoms were in bloom, all pink and gorgeous. I felt something bubble up in me I hadn’t felt for so long. It was joy. I started trotting and then running. I’d never really run in my whole life, but I had so much energy I just had to. When I stopped I was breathless and laughing out loud.”

I held up my tattooed forearm. “I even got the flowering cherry sleeve for that day.

“I went home and I kissed Will like I hadn’t kissed him in years. We were free. And we got back so much time back. You never know how many hours you have in a day until you sell a struggling business.

“We got married, because by then we could. We started to put all the time and effort we’d put into the cafe into ourselves. Will got his gym membership, which made him happy, and I started walking the lake every day and then running. We started cooking and eating better, and feeling like ourselves again. And all our old lust for each other was renewed. 

“We weren’t kids anymore, but we looked better than we ever had. As far as I was concerned, Will was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. We had sex for the first time in a long time, and I couldn’t believe how good it was. 

“‘Husband’ was the sexiest word I could think of, and I swore I’d never go back to how things were, ever.”

“How long did that last?” Adam asked.

“A while,” I answered. “And it was good while it did. Maybe we were both a little stuck in our habits, him with his dildos and me writing smut. And Will had gotten a little further out there.”

After a long pause Adam gestured with his hand to proceed.

“So this involves some real sex stuff,” I cautioned.

“You think you invented some sex something I’ve never heard of before?” Adam asked. “That I’ll be shocked?”

“He wanted to try fisting,” I said, waiting for a wince on Adam’s face, but he looked as neutral as ever.

“That wasn’t my thing,” I continued. “We tried it a few times but my heart wasn’t into it. It just felt like my hand was another sex toy that I just happened to be attached to. The whole act lost any of the intimacy we had left.

“I thought if I resisted it would be a passing thing for him. But it wasn’t. Maybe I should have seen it coming. Will is such a sweet guy, but he likes a physical challenge. And I could see, looking back, how he’s always done them quietly – like his working out when we first met, but never mentioning it once.

“And our sex life faltered again. We were so good and so happy in every other way, I guess I was just resolved that that was how our lives would go. I thought maybe you can’t have everything.

“So how long has it been?” Adam asked.

“A long time,” I answered. “And I was attracted to him the whole time. But we just couldn’t seem to get it together.

“Kid, Maybe you’re not thinking about it right,” he offered. “Maybe this is just a different kind of intimacy, or maybe even more intimate. Like you’re the one giving him this extreme pleasure, and it’s in your control. To be honest, I wouldn’t put a hand up my rear end, but if I did it would have to be someone I’d trust completely. How much more intimate does it get than that?”

“That’s true,” I replied. “I’ve kind of wondered that too, more recently.”

I sat with that for a moment before I continued.

“So he kept up his sex toy stuff, and sometimes when he got into heavy dildo play while I was out I’d know about it because there’d be a lot of towels in the wash. Those big ones take a lot of lube and make a mess. And when I’d pull the towels out of the dryer to fold them, it would just kind of gall me. I have zero problem with a spouse jerking off, but this was so elaborate it made me feel like this was my competition. Towels.

“I’d come here every day and walk by Oscar Wilde. There he was, an infamous buggerer who ended up in jail for committing ‘the love that dare not speak its name’, which I could barely stop speaking, between my work writing and James Austen stories. I dared speak it non stop, I just couldn’t do it. 

“I swear, some days I could feel his eyes judging me. Really? This is what I went to gaol for? It’s come to this then, has it? How drear.

“I never thought I was especially good looking, but I had boyfriends before Will, and I still get hit on some and then, so I guess there’s something there. Mostly it was the writing that drew guys in. But Will is something else. He just gets better looking and more sexy. Some older guys our age who are fit get this worn kind of overworked look. But not Will. He’s in great shape, muscular but he still has this softness about him, like he’s… plush. He has this arched back, and his chest alone I could write a book on. And his smile just kills me.” I sighed. 

“And more lately, maybe because it’s spring again and the cherry blossoms are out and everything, I’ve just really longed for him. I thought we were done with that part of our lives, but I look at him and lust after him like I’m a dorky kid in high school and I’m spying on a hot jock in the locker room. Sometimes I jerk off thinking of him and fantasizing.” I had to put my face in my hands. “I’m jerking off fantasizing about my own husband.”

“I’ve just been kind of crazy for him, all over again. And it’s distracting as fuck. I think about it at home, I think about it at work. It’s all I can do to not just grab him and fuck him on the spot, like when he’s cooking or getting home from the gym or whatever. I sometimes want to bend him over and have a dozen guys fuck him one after another and dump their loads in his ass, and I want every one of those guys to be me.

“So I just started writing more smut stories, just to express all this desire.”

“That’s why there’s so much new James Austen output?” Adam asked. “Kid, sometimes there’s a new one every day.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “And why I’ve been messing up at work. My heart’s not in it. I feel lovesick and distracted. I’m writing James Austen smut instead of getting my job done. I’m screwing up everywhere.”

“You’re screwing up because you’re in love… with your husband?”

“I guess so,” I answered. “I’m sorry.” 

I’d lost my confidence. It was like when I first fell for him.

“Well, to be honest I’m relieved. All that new smut content, I thought you were setting up a side business. So kid, what’s the problem? Why don’t you just go home and bang the lucky dude?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how any more. I don’t know if I can satisfy him, or if he even wants me in that way. I’m hung enough, but not sex toy sized. Not like his toys. And I feel like I wasted so much time. Is there even a point to trying again?”

“Ah jeez kid,” Adam sighed. “He’s your man. He loves you and he loves to get boned. Why do you make everything so hard?”

“Maybe I could tell him how sorry I am. I could ask if he’s still into me.”

Adam shook his head. “How can someone write like you but be such a numbskull? In what world is remorse and self doubt sexy? You want to get laid, not forgiven.

“Where’s your defiance? I know you have it. I’ve seen it. Sometimes so much I wanted to knock you down a peg or two. 

“You tell him how hot he is. Tell him you can’t keep your hands off him another minute. Tell him how all that muscle is driving you crazy. You told me. You write it. Just tell him.

“Don’t you think he wants to be wanted? Everyone does, but him maybe more than most. What do you think he’s working out for? To get noticed. And the one guy in all the world who ought to do that most is playing hard to get. Butter him up. Not literally, but literally too. What muscle bottom doesn’t want to be treated like a piece of meat?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kid, let me tell you why I hired you. I talked with some guys you worked with before, off the record. One said he didn’t know if you were a good hire. He said you were uneven, sometimes you could be brilliant, and other times your stuff needed work. So I hired you. You know why? Because writing that needs some work I can fix. But brilliant? I can’t get a writer from good to brilliant. That shit’s hardwired, it’s there or it’s not. So if I can get the brilliant out of you some of the time I can fix the rest. 

“You need work right now in your life just to get to decent. But you have the brilliance. All that you just told me? You have this hot guy who fell for you and has stayed with you, and even when he’s not getting it from you he’s not out screwing around. He’s satisfying himself with toys that can’t do what you can do. 

“You gotta get into his head. Most of this is psychological anyway. Let him know you see all the work he put into that rack and all the other parts. Gratify him. He doesn’t have a sex toy that can tell him how hot he is.”

“Isn’t that a little manipulative?”

Adam shrugged. “Meh. We all manipulate each other some. In this case those words have the virtue of also being true.

“That story I just told about you being sometimes brilliant? Didn’t that give you a little rush? You didn’t feel a boost, didn’t want to hear more? Of course you did. Because it played right into the things you want to be valued for.

“Go home and give that to Will. Go get your man.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Adam, thanks. Can I buy you lunch?”

“I would,” he replied. “But I’ve got a huge boner right now and I ought to just sit for a while.”

5.  

I came into work the next day, walked past the painting of Oscar Wilde in his flowery garden and invited myself into Adam’s office.

“So I tried what you suggested,” I told him. “When I got home Will was prepping dinner. He greeted me in his usual pleasant way. For a guy who can take a dildo the size of an arm, he has the most wholesome affect you can imagine.

“I said Hey to him, struggling to think of how to broach the topic.

“Tell him how hot he looks, dummy, I could hear you say. Show him.

“I ran a hand from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. ‘You look so hot.’

“He turned to smile at me. ‘Well. Thanks. You’re cute too.’

“‘I didn’t say you were cute,’ I ventured again. ‘I said you’re hot. Off the walls, head turning, porn worthy, hot.’

“So a rocky start. But Adam, I could see you give an encouraging nod, as if you were standing there, like the ghost of Hamlet’s father.”

Adam sighed. “Kid. What’d I tell you about the literary allusions?” 

“So,” I continued, “then I told Will that if he was still into the fisting thing, I’d like to give it another try, if he’d be into it.

“He looked at me again, surprised. ‘That’s…intriguing.’

“‘Yeah Will,’ I replied. ‘I know it didn’t go so well when we tried before. But if you want to, I want to try again.’”

Adam interrupted me. “Didn’t go well?”

“Well like I said, my heart wasn’t in it the first times we tried. And then after a long while we tried again. I guess I was expecting more kissing and making out and something vanilla at least to start. But things had really… progressed since the last time I joined him.

“He had a whole set up in the closet of this little basement room we use for home gym stuff, and he’d pulled it out for this session. There was a blanket on the floor and towels and he had the heat turned way up. And by then he had a lot of dildos. Literally dozens, in so many sizes and shapes. It was kind of a lot to take in. I felt like I was dropped in the deep end without learning to swim.

“I did my best, but I couldn’t breathe. He had this whole system down that had developed without me. I felt left out and left behind. I never said anything negative about it, but he could see it in my face. 

“And then we stopped trying.”

Adam let out a deep sigh. Poor guy, this couldn’t have been what he thought he was in for.

“So Will has this shame thing. He always has. He thinks it’s a generational thing, that guys our age were raised being told being gay was wrong. But I don’t have it. If anything, I have more of a pride problem.”

Adam snorted in agreement. “Other side of the same coin though.” 

He had a point too. I guess Will and I were a match that way.

“And even though I don’t get it, I know it’s there. So I told him I realized my response last time we tried this might have played into his shame and I never meant that to happen. 

“He said he understood I didn’t mean that. He said it’s more that he always has this feeling that he doesn’t deserve to get the things he wants. Or even to want them. But that doesn’t stop the wanting, it just makes him feel bad, and even worse when he gets what he wants. It’s one reason he’s so secretive about these things.”

“‘Every prison that men build is built with bricks of shame,’ wrote Oscar Wilde,” Adam quoted. 

“It is like a prison, isn’t it?” I asked. “I told him it made me ache that he’d felt undeserving. I wished he didn’t feel it. But if he did, there was no dark place he could go that I wouldn’t go too, to bring him back.”

“That’s a good line. Think of it on the spot?”

“Yeah. And as you say, it has the virtue of being true. 

“I told him I wasn’t just willing to try it again. I wanted to do it. To him. With him. And it wasn’t BS. It was true. I thought a lot about what you said the other day about the intimacy of it, and I could see myself in it that way. Thank you for that.”

Adam nodded. 

“‘Look’, I told Will, ‘I know I’ve screwed up some in the past. I’m not going to beat myself up over it. But right now I’m looking at you, and you’re just fucking gorgeous. You know that, right? And it would be so hot to see you get off that way. I don’t care what I did before, I don’t care if I deserve it. Sorry but not sorry if that’s selfish. I want to see you get off in that way. I want to see it in your face and your body, and I want to be the one who helps to get you there. You’re irresistible.’

“So he said he was interested and could he process a little. It was a lot to take in.”

“Not bad,” said Adam, which was just what my vision of Adam said at the time. “Not bad at all.”

“Thanks Coach,” I said to Adam. 

6. 

I strolled into Adam’s office and he raised his eyes to read my affect.

I sat down straight across from him and grinned “To paraphrase the immortal words of Charlotte Bronte, Reader, I fisted him.”

He put his face in his hands. “You’re killing me.” He looked up. “But go on.”

“So on Saturday Will was in the bathroom so much I thought either he had a colonoscopy coming up, or he was getting ready to be reamed. I don’t know if you know but what he likes takes some cleaning out time and preparation.”

“So I gather,” said Adam.

“And sure enough, about three pm he said to me that he was going to go downstairs to play with some toys and asked if I wanted to join him. I tried to not fall over myself getting to my feet, I was so excited.

“He’d switched up the home gym room, like he did last time. There was a 12 cup measuring glass filled with a gooey liquid lube, a bunch of huge dildoes – and I mean huge – all laid out on a blanket, with a bunch of towels piled up for clean up. He asked if he could describe everything and why it was there, and I said sure. This was more than we’d ever communicated about it before, so that was great.

“He dropped his shorts and was wearing just a jockstrap, in which he looked amazing. I knew this from last time, but he liked to keep his junk in there so as to not be distracted from what’s going on his rear. We’re used to thinking of our dicks as our main pleasure point, but this is about a whole different part of the body, like a bonus pleasure center most of us never even use.

“He got on his knees, facing the wall mirror so we could both see everything. He said what he usually does is to use whatever dildos he’s pulled out from smallest to largest, to stretch himself out. He picked up the smallest dildo, which was clear and some kind of silicon I guess, and bigger than any human cock, but modest compared to the others. He dipped it into the lube, which was like super elastic liquid. He positioned it under his rear and let it slide into him.

“I was so turned on by the sight of it entering him like it did, in one smooth movement. But the real turn on was how he changed as it entered him, the pleasure just sort of flowering on his face and a soft sigh coming out of his open mouth. He looked so good I didn’t know how I’d make it through this without just shooting in my shorts.

“He kissed me, and it was nothing like the going-to-work-see-you-later kiss. I mean he kissed me like that dildo opened a channel through his whole body, just radiating heat and fervor I haven’t felt from him in years. 

“I’d asked him if he stretched earlier to prep for that and he said no. He was just that good at it. That made me leak precum like crazy and we kissed more while I played with his tits and he worked his hips to fuck himself on the dildo.

“He asked if there was another I’d like to put in him, so I got behind him, and chose the next largest dildo. This was huge. I dipped it into the lube and pressed it to his hole, unconvinced he or anyone could do this. It took some effort and a hit of poppers and some writhing of his hips, but with me holding it in place he slowly worked his way down until he reached the base.

“I could picture an imaginary Adam there coaching me on. That’s it, he said. Hold it for him, give him something to push back on.

“So I did, letting him work it in and out of himself, listening to his sounds and watching his body communicate so I’d be better able to help. I realized I could put the base against my own crotch to hold it in place or the push into him, like I was fucking him with it, and I could tell from his groans he was really into it.

“And I didn’t feel excluded. Not even a little. I was just so turned on by seeing all the pleasure that it gave him – that I gave him – and how it showed in his body.

“One thing is I always thought fisting and giant sex toys seemed kind of sleazy and desperate. But Will looked incredible. He was so athletic about it. And I could hear you saying to tell him.

“I leaned in close to the side of his face and said ‘That shame stuff you were feeling… that was so wrong. You’re incredible.’ And I kissed him hard.

“Will said he’d like something larger, and that could be my fist.

“I put on a nitrile glove and dipped it in the lube, which trailed as I moved my hand to his ass. I held my hand out flat, four fingers together and began to slide into him, in and out to the widest point where my knuckles are. With every slide in, the knuckles pushed a little more into it. He took a hit of poppers and pushed back against my hand, and with a little pressure the knuckles passed through the tight ring of his sphincter, and then it just slid in. That moment felt incredible. 

“My hand – my whole hand – was in him, and he pushed back, letting it sink into him, past my wrist and beyond. His face was flushed and his breathing was deep, and he was saying ‘Fuck, oh fuck…’ 

“And Adam, I could feel his heartbeat all around my hand like it was my own. And I was so hard.

“You still okay hearing this?”

Adam waved me on.

“I realized that even with a glove, my hand was so much more sensitive than my dick. I could feel so much I could almost visualize it. I could feel every contraction in ways my dick couldn’t. I mean even though we use our hands for everything in life, they’re still so sensitive.”

“I guess that’s why we read Braille with our fingertips, not our dicks, right?” Adam smirked.

“And I realized your dick is just the shape it is. But your hand can be so many different shapes, like fingers tight, palm down or a fist, and even that can change. And the length is only limited by what he can take. If he wants a little more dick than you’ve got, you’re SOL, but a little more arm? There’s always a little more.

“Then I realized because my forearm is tattooed I could show Will how deep I was in him, and I made a mental note of which flower we stopped at so I could show him later. Like we were really doing this together.

“Will told me how to turn my hand, to pull back almost to the meat of my hand, because he likes the stretch so much, and when I understood what he liked, and the limits, I took charge.

“I shoved him down so his chest hit the mat, and held him there, pinned like a butterfly, while I fucked his upturned ass with my fist just the way he liked it best. I plowed him and told him hoe fucking hot he was, with weight on him, and how I wanted to use every part of his body. He was groaning and begging for more, and I gave it to him.

“I’d like to see a toy that could do that.

“He was so close then. Let him get up on one arm to give him access to his cock with his free hand. I added my hand to his, letting him do the real work but wanting to be part of getting him off in every part of his body. When he came, the contractions around my hand were incredible. It was more than anything I’d ever felt around my dick.

“But the real deal was his face in the mirror, looking back at me when he came. He was so beautiful and that was the hottest thing of all. And I’d gotten him off that way.

“After that I eased my hand out of him and we kissed. He was sweaty and breathless and handsome, and I told him to never dare be ashamed of that, because what he did was incredible.

“He asked about getting me off. Honestly I’d barely thought of it. I told him I wasn’t ready, and maybe I would be later. But I was so content in the moment”

“So after all that you didn’t get off at all?” asked Adam.

“I did get off,” I answered. “Just not with my dick. I was deeply satisfied, and I didn’t want anything to change that, not even cumming. And then we kissed for a long time and then cleaned up.”

Adam sat back in his chair. “So you’re in the fisting club?” 

“It’s funny,” I replied, “but no. Not really. I’m not into it. I’m into it with Will. I’m into doing it with him. The way he does it, and the things it does to him. I’m deeply into that.”

“Well good job, kid,” Adam said. “So I can assume you’re back on the job?”

“I’m back,” I said. And I meant it. 

“James Austen going to write a little novella?” he asked. “Fist & Sophistication? That’s kind of the story of you two.”

“Adam, you’re worse than me,” I groaned, and we laughed together. “We’ll see.”

I could see a little love story. Maybe a wilder love than I would have once imagined.

I stood up taller than I had in a long time. I felt my center of gravity again.

Adam sized me up with his eyes, and I could tell he saw the change. “Get out of here. Tomorrow we start again.”

7. 

In 1895, the Marquess of Queensberry left his calling card at Oscar Wilde’s club, the Albemarle, inscribed: “For Oscar Wilde, posing somdomite [sic].” Wilde, against the advice of his friends, initiated a private prosecution against Queensberry for libel, since the note amounted to a public accusation that Wilde had committed the crime of sodomy.

Queensberry was found not guilty, as the court declared that his accusation that Wilde was “posing as a Somdomite [sic]” was justified, “true in substance and in fact”. In April 1895, Wilde was arrested for “gross indecency” under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885, a term meaning homosexual acts not amounting to buggery (an offence under a separate statute). Events moved quickly and his prosecution opened on April 26, 1895, in which Wilde pleaded not guilty. 

On May 25, 1895, Wilde was convicted of gross indecency and sentenced to two years’ hard labor. The judge described the sentence, the maximum allowed, as “totally inadequate for a case such as this”, and that the case was “the worst case I have ever tried”. Wilde’s response of “And I? May I say nothing, my Lord?” was drowned out in cries of “Shame” in the courtroom.

Shame. Wilde later wrote “He does not win who plays with sin in the secret house of shame.” They’ve tried to shame us all along, and have never stopped. Well fuck that. They can kiss my gay ass.

Imprisoned, Wilde was not, at first, even allowed pen and paper. He was released from prison on May 19, 1897 and sailed that evening for Dieppe, France. He never returned to the United Kingdom. He spent his last three years impoverished and in exile. He took the pen name Sebastian Melmoth, writing long letters describing the brutal conditions of English prisons. 

Wilde died of meningitis on November 30, 1900. He was buried outside Paris, but in 1909 his remains were transferred to Père Lachaise Cemetery, inside the city. The modernist angel depicted as a relief on the tomb was originally complete with male genitalia, which were initially censored by French authorities with a golden leaf. The genitals have since been vandalized, and their current whereabouts are unknown. In 2011, the tomb was cleaned of the many lipstick marks left on it by admirers, and a glass barrier was installed to prevent further marks or damage.

The epitaph on his tomb is a verse from his Ballad of Reading Gaol, reading in part, 

For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn

With my daybag over my shoulder, I stopped in reception, where the painted Oscar Wilde stood  in his garden, surrounded by the signatures of writers of smut and erotica, the gold leaf letters reading RARELY PURE AND NEVER SIMPLE.

I’d taken for granted the rights he could not have dreamt of in his lifetime. I’d squandered the liberties to the very things that landed him in jail and in exile. My smutty stories. My husband – not a secret lover in hiding, not an outcast, not a shame, but my husband, who I loved and who loved me in return. I’d failed in many ways, but would do better.

I asked the receptionist for a tube of lipstick.  She was hesitant – they were only for visiting authors of note. But there was something in my affect that put some weight into the request.

I opened the lipstick and used it to sign my name on the glass front of the mural. James Austen. Writer of gay smut. 

I capped the tube, kissed my fingers and pressed them to Oscar’s face. 

“Thank you, thank you,” I whispered. “For another chance.”

I went home, where I hoped my husband would be looking forward to my return.

– END –

---

Thanks for reading. Please send your comments, suggestions, questions and ideas to [email protected].

Sex between a true bottom and a true top is a sacred act. It depends both on the sameness (maleness) of both partners, as well as, and more importantly, their difference (you can’t have unity without difference or diversity). A top’s sexuality is masculine: expanding, entering, exploring, conquering, reaching outside itself, penetrating, discovering. A bottom’s sexuality is feminine: accommodating, drawing-in, opening, submitting, beckoning, receiving, being-discovered.

The bottom willingly sacrifices his maleness to the top by spreading his legs and allowing the top to penetrate him and conquer him internally. This receptivity, submission, accommodation is very feminine. But it is precisely *as a male* that the bottom performs this feminine act. It is as a male and only as a male that he is able to give his maleness as an offering to the top. It is very free, even though it is very natural. The bottom, having given himself entirely to the top, then receives from the top the top’s own maleness, which moves inside him over and over and ultimately releases inside him. This transference of male energy is the most beautiful part of male to male sex. The bottom becomes yin and the top is yang and they are two men united in a perfect union of yin and yang energies  

Anal sex is key and should be your primary sexual activity to reinforce this bond, because it is the most intimate act two men can share, as well as the most fitting way for a bottom to submit to his top, and for the top to dominate and fill his bottom. As a true man, the top’s sexual organ is his penis. The bottom’s primary sexual organ is his anus/rectum. The top must always be the clearly masculine, dominant partner. 

Differences in physique should also be accentuated if possible. It is totally inappropriate for a bottom to try to command or control his top. Rather, a bottom should revere and submit to his man, and constantly be trying to please him. This overall dynamic will help your relationship and resolve possible conflicts as you both will be working better as a beautiful team. 

5. SUNDAY STU

“How do they eat so much?” Ms. Venable asked the universe, running her eyes over the ledger.
 
“Growing boys eating for two!” answered Mrs. Crist, the cook, not looking up from her meal prep. “And the big blond one, eating for three they say!”
 
“Mmm,” mused Ms. Venable. “When the Home had girls, the meals cost a fraction of this.”
 
“The girls wanted to look as small as little birds!” laughed Mrs. Crist.
 
“Yes, but not these beasts,” groaned Ms. Venable, nostalgic for the economy of modesty. “Their protein demands alone are ruinous.”
 
Jamie appeared in the kitchen, somewhat startled to see Ms. Venable there.
 
“Morning Ms. V!” he said, with feigned cheer.
 
“Pickle jar’s on the counter!” announced Mrs. Crist.
 
“Thanks Mrs. C!” chirped Jamie as he laid hands on a gallon-size jar of dill pickles. On his way out he made a stop at the kitchen refrigerator, which shut with a dull thud as he made his exit.
 
“Pickles?” asked Ms. Venable.
 
“Yes ma’am. The young Stag Buck, ma’am. Can’t get enough. Goes through a jar every Sunday, right as rain.”
 
Ms. Venable considered this. Novel clients incurred novel costs. The man-mountain and his twins required special medical monitoring. The Stag Buck created a pheromone furor among the other boys with its attendant biological untidiness, and now his pregnancy cravings demanded special purchases. But worse than all this was the military boy and his deception. What a vexing business. She pursed her lips hard in anticipation of the military escorts coming to take Dean away.
 
In the dining room, the Venable Home residents were, for once, interested in the very same topic as Ms. Venable herself: Dean.
 
“I KNEW that navy dude was not knocked up!” bellowed Abe. “WOOOOH I CALLED IT!”
 
“Man, can you just not?” groaned Chad. “No one knew a damn thing.” No one with one  exception, which he left unsaid.
 
“Fuck,” added Abe, glancing upstairs and pointing with a finger to his own palm. “That dude’s belly is FLAT.”
 
“How’d he trick the navy?” asked Forrest, eager to distance himself from any association with the deception, having arrived on the same day as Dean.
 
“He says he switched tests with an actual Buck who got knocked up,” Chad answered. “Both named Dean, I guess. As soon as they test positive they get pulled out, and the other guy wanted to stay in the service as long as he could, even just a few weeks more.”
 
“Getting some Navy bro poon!” boomed Abe. “Fuck man, that must be sweet!”
 
“I guess this other Dean wasn’t exactly set up to come to a place like this,” added Chad, rubbing his fingers together to signal dollars. “He’ll have to go to a DINK.”
 
“What’s a DINK?” asked Forrest.
 
“Some kind of military home for knocked-up dudes. Defense Institute for Natal Knowledge. Guys call it a DINK. Real low quality. Some depressing shit,” answered Chad. “Anyway, they’re sending a military escort to pick him up and take him back.”
 
“He’s not even a Buck?” asked Forrest, eyebrows arched in surprise.
 
“Guess not,” replied Chad. “He says he is, but doesn’t test. And he’s sure as fuck not knocked up.”
 
Chad silently recalled Stu insisting Dean didn’t smell right. He’d assumed the Stag Buck was dismissive of the new guy out of some uncharacteristic rivalry with the even more hyperkinetic Dean, but it looked like the Stag Buck senses couldn’t be fooled, even if the Navy was.
 
“Fuck man, dude ate half the whole breakfast this morning,” complained Abe. “That’s for REAL Bucks. Bucks knocked up with twins and shit.” Abe hoisted his huge belly, bigger already than those of Bucks further along.

Chad rolled his eyes but Abe had a point. Dean really did eat more than any two Bucks combined, and with that flat belly of his too. Maybe he was just trying to get the look of a knocked up belly going.
 
Jamie came spinning around the corner with the gallon jar of pickles and a spray can of whipped cream, a wide smile on his face. “Get your jocks on, bros!” he said.
 
“Fuck yeah!” said Chad, seeing the pickle jar. “Sunday Stu!”
 
Jamie spun on his heels headed to the gym in the basement of the Home, with Chad and Abe close behind. Forrest tried to catch up, yelling, “What’s Sunday Stu?”
 
“Best day of the week, noob!” yelled Abe, his booming voice reverberating over his shoulder. “Gonna breed a Stag Buck!”

***

Randy woke up to a hungry gurgling deep in his gut. He pressed his palms on his abs and his morning wood rolled over the top of his hands. Fuck, his dick looked huge, all swollen like that. He flexed to make his erection rise and let it slap down on his belly again and again, almost hypnotized by the sight of a fat cock against his growling belly.

When he finally got up out of bed it was near impossible to piss straight, spraying on the sides of the toilet, like his usual aim was completely off. He knew the bathroom well enough to use it blindfolded, having lived in the house all of junior year. But the bowl seemed smaller beneath his dick, as if the proportions of everything had changed overnight. 

It wasn’t just the toilet. Looking in the bathroom mirror his pecs seemed swollen. Everything smelled more potently. Odors he barely noticed were now front and center in his head. The soap, the deodorant which now was repellant. For relief he buried his face in one of the used towels and his nostrils filled with comforting musky scents. He found he could articulate each of them distinctly, Brendan’s face, Matt’s furry ass, Cam’s pits. Holy fuck, Cam’s pits. He was becoming intoxicated by them until he shook himself out of it.

He pulled on a T-shirt and jockstrap, but had to double-check that it was really his jock. The pouch was so confining, like it was two sizes too small. It wasn’t just the semi he was sporting, he’d worn it with hard ons before. His jock just didn’t fit right, and working the taut cotton around his chub, he didn’t see how it ever could.
 
His stomach rumbled again, prompting Randy to eat. He usually wolfed a protein bar on the way to the gym, but his appetite this morning was different. Deeper. He prowled the kitchen for something though he didn’t know what. In the freezer were a dozen frozen burritos, the ones his roommate Cam always ate. He heated them two at a time and ate them straight out of the microwave, standing there until his belly was full. The bloat in his belly felt good.
 
He jogged to the gym, but had to tug at his crotch every block or so, as his heavy package swayed side to side. His dick was big enough for his jock to be snug anyway, but now it threatened to burst free, and the pouch tickled at the sensitive head relentlessly. Fuck it, he thought, reaching down to pull his junk out of the jock to hang free in his loose shorts. God, that feels good.
 
Opening the door to the gym, Randy staggered, hit with a wave of dizzying stimulation as the rank scent of mansweat hit him hard enough to make him groan. Like the bath towel at home, he could articulate the different sources of the sensory assault. What the fuck, he wondered, his head full of impressions of various jocks and bros and trainers, each with their own unique blend of musk.  

He scanned the room and saw every guy as if for the first time. The hair on their chests trapping their sweat, the swells of muscles and the valleys drawing his eyes down their abs, their swivel hips and full packages and sweet round asses that he just wanted to dig into with that deep hunger for something that wasn’t food. 

His balls pulsed and his stomach growled and churned. Even his butthole twitched and puckered and he passed some gas without warning. Fuck, it felt more wet than expected, and he wondered if he’d sharted. He clenched his hole and whatever was there felt clean and good and he wanted to do it again.

“There you are bro,” said Cameron, playfully punching Randy’s shoulder. “Waited for you but it was getting late. Figured you were hungover or had a babe in your room.”
 
Cameron’s touch triggered a full-body wave of stimulation in Randy. His breath seized in his chest and his skin tingled, his cock stiffened to full-on erection and a thick surge of precum stained the front of his gym shorts. His hole flexed and pulsed like he was sharting again, and although it felt good he ran a hand over his crack. Lifting his fingers to his face and inhaling he could tell whatever was going on had no stink, it just smelled clean and natural.
 
“You okay, dude?” asked Cameron, noticing the dazed look on Randy’s face.
 
“Yeah,” muttered Randy. “Let’s make a baby.”

What did he just say? He didn’t know where the words came from, and then they were there, out of his mouth and hanging in the musky air of the gym between them. Fuck, it felt so right.
 
Cameron cocked his head at Randy and asked, “Bro?”

***

Stag Bucks had long baffled evolutionary scientists and other students of The Rut. While Stags breeding Bucks made a perverse sense in roughly approximating traditional male/female reproduction, Stag Bucks defied mammalian convention by performing both reproductive functions. 

This created far more questions than answers. If evolution intended them to be a unisex reproductive successor to the species as some believed, why were there so few Stag Bucks? 

Their rarity made them a compelling and confounding subject of study, for which few trends could be identified. It was only known that Stag Bucks manifested both biological functions and performed both roles with equal ease, and they were wholly irresistible to both Stags and Bucks.
 
Only the second Stag Buck resident in the history of the Venable Home, Stu was most at home in the gym, and spent more time in it than any other two boys combined. There, alone, he could try to clear his head of the scent of all the Bucks at the Home. They smelled good, sure, but the persistent sameness of it wore on him in ways he couldn’t explain. 

The time he put in at the gym showed in a singular physique. Even in a household of young muscle jocks, Stu’s ass was the most perfectly round, his biceps and shoulders the most aesthetically peaked. His full belly was even higher and tighter than others, and his thick pecs even more pronounced than usual for a Buck – or in his case a Stag Buck. 

He’d once been just a slim swimmer, a little more beefy than some. He’d always had a knack for anything physical and gained muscle with surprising ease, but nothing like this before The Rut. He wasn’t bodybuilder big, but with some forethought – Stu’s least exercised muscle – he could imagine it in his future.
 
After his first hour in the gym he paused for a visual inventory in the mirrored wall, running through his poses. He wore just a jockstrap, the most comfortable thing ever invented for a knocked-up jock, even though his Stag-sized cock required a larger than standard pouch. He started with front double biceps, front lat spread and side chest. Fuck yeah, whether it was his Stag chemistry or being knocked up or both, The Rut gave him the best gainz ever. He was about to shift into back double biceps when his nose caught a distinct smell.
 
Pickles.
 
He dropped his pose and inhaled to catch the scent again. Pickles were the one food craving he’d developed since getting knocked up. That sweet briny taste that was only made better by sucking it straight off a thick hard cuke. And there was only one better taste, he thought, and that was pickles with…
 
Shhhhhhhhhkchhhhhhhhh – the sound of whipped cream spray.
 
Fuck, his second-favorite sound after the slosh of his Stag Buck cock in ass lube. 

His cock stiffened and his tits flex involuntarily. It wasn’t just the taste of pickles and cream, which his body craved. It was how they alone wiped his olfactory slate clean, making all those Bucks he was housed with smell almost new again and so fuckable.

He looked frantically around for the source of the sound, his mouth watering and his erection releasing a first gush of Stag lube. 
 
“Hey Stu,” called Jamie from the stairwell. Beside him were Chad, Forrest and Abe, each holding wet, dripping pickles. They all three wore jocks under their pregnant bellies, Abe adding a cut-off football jersey. A gallon jar of pickles was hoisted up onto Abe’s shoulder, one arm raised to hold it in place with one hand.

“Hey Stu, buddy,” said Abe in his gravelly voice. He cupped his packed jock, tinged green and oozing pickle juice. “Want somma this?”
 
“Mmmm,” groaned Stu, nodding as he watched the juice slowly drip in a long stream from Abe’s saturated jock to the gym floor. 

A big smile broke across the Stag Buck’s face as he near staggered to his bros, enticed by the pickles they baited him with as much as the sight of their fawn-filled bellies and the peaking scent of their cocks and asses, the fresh thought of sucking on their man tits, fucking and being fucked till he couldn’t stand.

He wrapped his lips around the tip of Forrest’s pickle, held at his mouth level.

“There you go buddy, just like that,” Abe urged Forrest, holding the younger Buck’s wrist with one hand, running his fingers through the springy brown hair of his head. The gravelly voice of the footballer rolled through Stu, making all the baby hairs on his body stand at attention. “Give it to him like he likes it.”

Forrest worked the pickle back and forth between Stu’s eager lips, slow and then faster, teasing at the back of his throat, making him swallow again and again. As his Adam’s apple bobbed, Chad and Jamie ran their fingers over his lightly perspiring body, feeling his freshly pumped muscles, prying at his hairy Buck ass and sliding hands into his taut jock to wrap fists around his stiff Stag cock.

He bit the pickle in half and gave a quick chew before swallowing hard, then opening his mouth wide. Abe sprayed the cream canister right into Stu’s gaping mouth until he filled the cavity, and then dipped a fresh pickle in, swirling it to break up the fatty taste with sweet acidic juice.

“You like that, Stu buddy?” Abe asked, gliding the pickle back and forth, as Stu nodded. He looked barely aware as Abe grabbed at his solid pec. “You wanna get bred?”

Stu’s eyes rolled back in his head, feeling the cleft of his ass being held open by multiple hands, his lubing hole being fingered, every bro’s scent like new. He nodded Yes, yes, yes.

In this state words were distant and quickly forgotten, but the Stag Buck thought he heard Chad’s voice say something about Sunday Stu rules, tits and ass free for all, and his breath caught quick as a Buck cockhead speared up into his juicy throbbing hole.

***

In her office, Ms. Venable waited impatiently. Idle time was the most insidious of traps.

The military escorts were delayed, lost on their way, per the phone call. Typical masculine inefficiency, she noted, endemic to the institutions they dominated. At least the Stags and Bucks of The Rut had an excuse, in the grip of biological imperative as they were.

She checked over the books, as she did each Sunday. She reviewed the gestation notes for each Buck, as taken by Nurse Leigh, the midwife, so attentive, with her accent and pretty mouth. She’d see before long that a strong hand was more effective than a kind word. And better protection of her own tender feelings, until she’d developed the necessary calluses on her heart. There’d be no gain in developing attachments to the beasts.

Ms. Venable reflected on the cat she had as a girl. It was a precocious type that went into heat before her parents thought to have it neutered, getting loose only to come home carrying an eventual litter of kittens. She’d adored all six of them, naming each, observing character traits and personalities in their little snub noses and milky eyes. She’d been insensible to her own mother’s warnings to not get too close, too affixed, to the kittens. When they were sent to new homes, she felt her own heart wrenched and lessened with each. Later, when the mother cat was finally neutered, she was glad to know she’d be safeguarded from that sort of trickery of feelings again.

For each of the Bucks she maintained communications with the prospective adoptive parents, sending briefings on their progress and confirming details on the expected transfer of newborns. Chad’s would go to his cousins, his parents refusing to have their flesh and blood put in strangers’ hands, which ate into the Home’s finder’s fees. Lane had left entirely, with the Buck that would certainly lose interest once the fawn was delivered. And then the jug-eared Joey followed after him, the two taking with them their fawns and the fees due upon transfer to the adoptive parents. She thanked the foresight of her grandparents and their cleverness in developing contract standards that front-loaded fees, protecting most of the profit even in these awkward situations.

Those ridiculous runaway Bucks. They’d see that the task of raising the resulting brats was a far cry from the animal pleasure of making them. What impetuous fools. Although women had been long regarded as impractical, emotionally mercurial and flighty, it was men who were so easily distracted, so profligate in their wandering attentions. They were such easy willing prey to the vanities rampant in the gender. 

It was not lost on Ms. Venable that in another age she’d have been deemed more likely a resident of such a home than its steel willed matron, as cast by the biology and customs of the day. What a misfortune it would have been. What a waste of her innate talents. If nature, through The Rut, turned the tables, let women off the hook for bearing young, that sat well enough with her. She had a greater role to play than that of slave to bestial cravings, and repugnant bodily functions. This was the work for which she was made.

Recalculating, she noted that the blond’s twins would make up for other losses, being a highly unusual product and demanding unusual fees. And of course, the Stag Buck’s delivery had garnered special interest due to his rare nature. That one would be well worth the cost of a few pickled vegetables. She dared hope he’d be impregnated again, and soon; she could make quite a sum from a few more of his offspring. Even she was not immune, in her own way, to the charms of a Stag Buck. She was simply more judicious in understanding his value, and in the end better able to keep flights of fancy in check, better able to manage herself.

She had to admit that if novel pregnancies were laden with novel costs, there were novel opportunities for profit as well. And if what her network reported was true, there were interesting new developments in The Rut cycle. New Stags and Bucks that did not conform to historic norms, and even the rumored Stag Bull, as it was called in hushed whispers among those who monitored such things.

In the privacy of her office, Ms. Venable allowed the corner of her mouth to turn up into a smile, her dignity intact.

***

On all fours, Stu’s mouth was filled with Abe’s pickle juice-sodden jock, alternating between sucking the sweet slop and the warm meat of the Buck’s cocks.  

“Fuck yeah, Stu buddy,” Abe groaned, holding the Stag Buck’s head like a football, guiding him between his own erection and Forrest’s, letting the younger southern Buck dip the jock back in the gallon jar.

At the same time, Jamie and Chad took turns sliding their cocks in and out of Stu’s fuck box, driving into him as much as they could take, getting just to the brink of shooting, then pulling out to give the other a chance. Where some might go competitive, one upping the other, these two built the other up, getting off on the thrill of the other’s pleasure. They might never have known each other if not for The Rut, but they found in each other a unique complement. 

The pleasure of mounting Stu was almost too hard to bear for one of them alone. Mounting other Bucks was one thing, but getting into the hole of a Stag Buck, with his muscular ass milking them as they fucked, his unique mix of pheromones filling their heads, stupefying them.

When Chad couldn’t hold back any more, he ground his hips into Stu, moaning “Fuck yeah, fucking Stu…”. 

Jamie reached up behind him, running his hands over Chad’s muscled back. “Give it to him, bro. Make us a fawn.”

Chad groaned loud as he pumped his Buck load past Stu’s prostate, then sliding slowly back and forth to get it all out. Jamie nuzzled him from behind, licking him and lightly biting his ears.

“First load!” bellowed Abe.

Chad pulled out to make room for Jamie, the next lucky Buck, his semi dropping out of Stu with  a wet smack. Even having just unloaded, he was again mesmerized by the smooth interplay of the Stag Buck’s muscles, and felt certain he’d be up to bang him again soon.

Jamie rode Stu urgently, as driven by the slosh of Chad’s load all around his cock as by the Stag Buck’s grip on his erection. He dropped his weight onto Stu’s sweaty back, the pressure spreading Stu’s strong legs and making him groan with the pleasure of being taken. Jamie’s hands roamed around the tawny skin of Stu’s broad lats, and then down to his pecs.

Fuck, Stu’s pecs were an adventure in themselves, slabs of muscle with dark nipples that responded to touch with an instant hardening. They begged to be held, to be sucked on and milked, and just feeling them got Jamie off, prompting him to nut without warning. Each thrust drove another surge of Buck cum into Stu, who gasped again and again, his solid belly grazing the gym floor, where a pool of clear precum streamed from his twitching Stag Buck cock.

Abe chuckled, glad to see it was nearing his turn. He saved himself for last, but was eager to get into Stu’s ass. He nudged Forrest and said, “You’re up!”

The thick southern Buck looked surprised. With his own ample ass and strong Buck scent, he’d been bred often enough, but he’d never been expected to mount another, much less a Stag Buck like Stu.

“Me?” he asked.

“Come on, buddy,” Abe implored with a friendly sneer, cupping Forrest’s fleshy ass cheek and giving it a good jiggle. “Lube him up for big Abe!”

As Forrest mounted Stu, the Stag Buck twitched and looked around. He scented something else, something different, not any of the Bucks around him. In the mix of instincts and impulses in his body and mind, his Stag sense rose up in him, but eased as his Buck ass was teased by the head of Forrest’s cock. Then Abe’s hard thumb filled his mouth, dripping with sticky juice and a spray of cream, and he loosened his sphincter to let his ass be filled.

Forrest gave his first fuck, taking over the ripped body of the magnificent Stag Buck. Chad and Jamie watched on, cheering him as he worked their loads deep into Stu with his own erection. A sly smile crept across his cherubic face as he discovered his instinct and maybe even a talent for mounting another man. He threw his weight hard, forcing a deep satisfied groan out of Stu.

“Come on Forrest, you’re a bro now,” Chad urged, at rest on the floor with Jamie nuzzled up against his chest, their bellies side by side.
Forrest plowed harder, his confidence building, as even Abe slow-clapped with his big mitt hands, shouting “THAT’S. MY. BOY!”

Stu’s ass smacked back and his muscles tensed, as again some new scent cut through the air around him. The Bucks other than Forrest didn’t notice, but every part of Stu’s body tensed, growing harder and more alert, more ready to dominate. Forrest quivered as the Stag Buck’s hole tightened hard, drawing a load out of him to mix with Chad’s and Jamie’s and Stu’s own lube. 

Forrest trembled as he struggled to break free from Stu’s constricting hole. His cheeks flushed scarlet and a sheen of sweat coating his flesh as he stared down at the still stiff arc of his own cock, in disbelief of his own prowess. Yeah he’d be doing this again soon.

The other Bucks applauded Forrest, and Abe licked his lips in anticipation of at last breeding a Stag Buck. He didn’t pay attention to the wild look in Stu’s eyes, so different from his usual affable demeanor, or the way the Stag Buck’s breath came fast and deep, or even how the little hairs sprang to attention on his tan skin.

“Alright!” Abe bellowed, stroking his cock and assuming the position behind the Stag Buck. He ran a hand over Stu’s furry ass, savoring the moment. “It’s breeding season, bros, and we saved the best for last!”

Abe positioned the thick head of his cock at Stu’s well-worked hole, and as he did it closed tight. He stood erect, his shoulders pulled back, his cock harder even than it had been moments ago, and for the first time any of the residents had seen, Stu was almost wholly more Stag than Buck.

***

Brodie could have easily led the way up the path on Mount Cody. He was strong, and his legs steady. But instead of advancing, Brodie trailed behind his pregnant Bucks, at times resting a hand on the small of one or the other’s back to lend balance and support. Joey, more powerful and longer-legged, seemed fine enough, but Lane was smaller, and so far along in his pregnancy, it made Brodie’s back ache to see him struggle. But he was also the most determined to make the hike before giving birth, and his will was stronger in its own way than Brodie’s.

They chose this mount to climb, shaped like a massive gray lightning bolt wedged into the surrounding soil. It was more steep than other geological wonders in the areas, like the Rock abutting the Venable estate, but it also had a more reliably smooth foot-friendly surface, providing for miles of wandering toward its highest peak. 

At the last plateau before the highest peak, the three stopped for a breather. They turned to look to the north at their small town, Cody. They could see the peaks of the college structures, and based on that could make out where their own humble neighborhood was, where they’d made a home together. To the south, they could see the magnetic rock formation near the swimming quarry, and knew that just beyond that was the Venable Home.
 
Lane looked off toward the Home and sighed wistfully. Brodie pulled up close to him, nuzzling the smaller Buck, and asked, “Sorry I took you away?”
 
“Fuck no,” answered Lane. “Just remembering that you did.” 

He turned to face his Stag. They’d been college roommates once. After Lane was sent away, it took Brodie months to find him, leaving college and taking construction work along the way until he landed in Cody. It was funny that in school they were nothing to each other but random assignments, until The Rut gave them their true selves.

Lane pressed his lips to Brodie’s, kissing him softly, and then hard and wet. Brodie met Lane’s tongue with his own, tasting in the sweet saliva of his Buck his own essence that he thought must trace back to his fawn in Lane’s belly. 

He felt a nuzzle in his ear, and turned away from Lane to see Joey’s smiling face. The taller Buck planted his own lips on Brodie’s, thrusting his tongue into the Stag’s open mouth. Brodie eagerly reciprocated, meeting Joey’s tongue with his own. Joey gave one more lick and turned Brodie’s head back to Lane for another kiss with the smaller Buck.
 
“Mmmm, how’d I get so lucky,” Brodie asked between kisses, sandwiched between the pregnant Bucks. He pressed his palms on each of their bellies and Joey gasped.
 
“Did you feel him kick?” Joey asked, putting his own hand over Brodie’s to feel the next movement.
 
“He knows his daddy,” Brodie said, which made Joey smile and mist up. “I don’t care who put him in you,” Brodie continued. “He’s mine now.”
 
Joey wove his fingers into Brodie’s brown curls and pulled his head back for another kiss, while Lane hugged his back. They stood in the morning sun until they grew restless.
 
“It’s just a little ways to the top,” Joey said, nodding to the peak. 

“Are you guys good?” Brodie asked. “Do you need to go back to the car?”
 
“Fuck no,” said Lane. “I’m going all the way.”
 
“I want to see what’s next,” added Joey.
 
Brodie smiled, filled with warmth for his fawn-laden Bucks, and nodded. “Me too.”

Together they walked to the peak and whatever came after it.

***

In his room, Dean was up on hands and knees, swaying on his bed. The escorts would be there soon to take him back to the Navy and its everyday drab sameness. But he could barely think of that, breathing heavily and increasingly sweating. 
 
“I’m a Buck,” he grunted through gritted teeth, swaying back and forth. “I’m a Buck.”
 
A pool of perspiration collected in the tight small of his back, running down from his long lean trap muscles, streaming down his athletic arms and dripping into the sheets as his slim hips writhed and his ass pucker pulsated. His flat belly rippled and his stomach gurgled. 
 
“I’m. A. Buck.” he said more intently.
 
His ass spasmed and he felt something slick and wet ooze down from his hole to drip off his balls onto the mattress below. His breathing became more rapid and he shuddered, losing most sense of himself and his life before then.
 
Still on hands and knees, he became very still, braced himself and yelled out a single sound: “STUUUUUUUU!!!!”
 
Two minutes later his door burst open, propelled by a frantic Stu. He was naked, his own cock and ass smeared with lube from the fuckfest in the gym. He looked bigger than he had earlier, his muscles more swollen, his gaze more intent. His eyes locked on Dean’s upturned ass, to the exclusion of all else.
 
“Fuuuuuck,” groaned Stu. His cock was near painfully rigid and swollen as he neared the new Buck. He was all Stag now, all animal, with only one purpose: to breed Dean, his new Buck, and the only relief for his aching cock was deep in that hungry hole.  
 
“Whoa,” said Jamie, hurriedly following Stu, with Chad, Forrest and Abe piling in after him.
 
Stu grabbed at Dean’s hips and jerked them back, dropping the Navy boy’s chest to his belly with a grunt. He plied at the plush ass cheeks to expose the wet hole that begged for his cock. He positioned his fat Stag erection at it, almost panting in anticipation.
 
“Stuuuuu,” moaned Dean, arching his back and spreading his thighs to offer his ass up.
 
“Nooooo!” groaned Abe, his jock still oozing pickle juice. “I was so close! STU! BRO!!!”

Stu didn’t hear the frustrated footballer, or any of the other boys. In the hierarchy of holes that draw a Stag, there is none that compares to a fresh virgin Buck in his first season, and Stu was completely oblivious to anything around him but the opportunity to breed.

“Sorry man,” Chad laughed, nearly doubled over. They’d each dumped a load in Stu, but for poor Abe. “Maybe next week. If you can pry your boy off the new Buck.”

Stu began the long sink into Dean, emitting a deep sigh until he hit the base. There was nothing on earth like the feel of Stag cock in a fresh Buck’s hole. He quivered and slid back to roll into a hard fuck. Dean thrust his hips back to meet him, gasping in relief at every hit. As they slammed together they found their breeding rhythm, their bodies locked in a tidal flow together.

Nothing remained of Stu’s puppydog nature, only a beast’s aggression in taking what was his. All the muscles in his body swelled, and even his own pregnant belly seemed to pulse as his heavy balls slapped against the Buck’s ass. Dean nearly howled as he was filled with the one thing on Earth he needed, more than desired.
 
“Dean’s not even a Buck!” complained Abe.
 
“Looks like he is after all,” answered Chad, hypnotized by Stu’s hard, rolling fuck. “Just came on a little bumpy, I guess.”

Though he and Forrest and Jamie had all blown their loads just minutes earlier, the pheromone stew in the room of Stag and Buck charged them up, stiffening their cocks and making them salivate for more as their asses self lubed.
 
“It’s so hot,” whispered Forrest. “He’s really going to breed him.”
 
“It’s how we all got here,” said Jamie. “But yeah… so fucking hot.”
 
“Fuck it,” bellowed Abe, jerking open his sticky jock. “I’m going in!”
 
He pulled the straps down over his brawny thighs, dropped the jock to the floor, and stripped off his football jersey. His full, exposed belly was taut, filled with twin fawns, and his thick cock pressed up against it in a rigid curve.

“You can’t –” Jamie began as he saw Abe pull up behind Stu, guiding his erection between the rutting Stag Buck’s round, furry cheeks. Stu registered it, just barely, and glanced over his shoulder with equal parts lust and territorial fury.

“I guess he can,” Chad shrugged, wrapping a hand around Jamie’s gymnast shoulder. And leave it to Abe to be the one to mount a Stag Buck in rut, he almost said out loud.

“HOLY FUCK!” shouted Abe, pushing his cock up into Stu’s tight pucker, wet with his own natural lube and three loads of Buck cum. Stu gasped as his sphincter was pried open, and Abe’s lips twitched as they turned up into a sideways smile of deepening pleasure. He gasped as his cock was taken over by Stu’s ass. “I never knew…”

Stu’s hips rolled into the new Buck, to drive as deep as he could, and slammed back against Abe to take the big blond’s erection deep in full. 

“Oh baby,” Abe groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, lost in bliss, wrapping his beefy arms around the rolling, mounded muscle of Stu’s body, cupping the bodybuilder’s strong, swollen tits.  “He’s milking me!”

That fucking Stu, thought Chad, shaking his head, but still mesmerized by the most intense fuck he’d ever seen. Stu’s body was sculpture in motion, dominating both the flat-bellied Buck and the knocked-up football player. He always looked amazing, but now being mounted while in true rut, fathering a fawn in Dean, he was more than just a Stag or Buck. He was a true Stag Buck.

Abe held on with all his strength, sure that even if he went into labor nothing would stop him from dumping his full load into the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Whatever life would have brought him without The Rut, it couldn’t have been better than this.

Forrest watched as Abe’s big pale asscheeks opened and closed with each pump, the cleft that exposed his breeding hole opening and closing. He pulled up behind Abe and pressed his erection into the deep dripping hole in the man-mountain’s beefy ass. Finding only token resistance, he slid all the ways in, holding onto the footballer by his hips. 

“Fuck train!” exclaimed Chad, jumping forward to take a spot behind Forrest, plunging his cock into the plush rear of the Southern Buck. With his last semblance of restraint, he turned to Jamie and said, “Get in me, man.”

Jamie sidled up behind Chad and wrapped his arm around the taller bro’s thick, furry chest as he slid his erection up into the wetness of his hole. Jamie’s face pressed into Chad’s broad, muscular back, and in his heart he knew that even in this crazy stew of Stags and Bucks, this was where he most wanted to be.

Abe took sweet delight in the train of Bucks fucking to his rear, plowing up into one another in a chain, his own cock in a Stag Buck who was in turn making a fawn in a fresh new Buck. 

“Oh fuck baby, yeah, take that baby-making cock,” Abe roared.

The very idea of planting a baby up in Stu made Abe’s cock tickle, and he thrust harder, triggering Stu. The Stag Buck gasped and whimpered as a torrent of cum surged into Dean through his meaty erection. In doing so, Stu fucked Dean’s load out of him, his first as a Buck, a pleasure more intense than any he’d known before The Rut.

Stu grunted as the confounding biology of both Stag and Buck worked together in him, his cock being milked by Dean, his whole clamped on Abe’s erection. 

“Oh… ohhhhhhh,” moaned Abe, losing it and dumping his load into Stu.

His contracting sphincter started a chain reaction, squeezing Forrest’s cock first, shooting his Buck load into the big blond. Chad in turn was caught by the wave of climax, his furry chest heaving as he shot into Forrest’s ample rear, and that pulled Jamie’s cumming erection deeper inside of him. 

Though Abe and every Buck behind him were spent, Stu’s Stag breeding had barely begun. His muscles locked up, except for his grinding hips as his balls pumped surge after surge of fertile baby-making cum into Dean. 
 
Abe shifted from orgasmic high to contorting, as he tried to break free from Stu’s sphincter, relentlessly milking his hypersensitive cock. He twisted frantically to pry his dick loose, sending Forrest, Chad and Jamie sprawling to the floor behind him.
 
“Oh fuck,” begged Abe, trembling from head to toe. “Make him stop!”
 
No one made a move. Beyond the hypnotic spell that froze them in place, everyone knew there was no stopping a Stag in the climax of breeding. “Not even with a crowbar,” Chad mouthed, in amazement. Abe’s cock was locked in Stu for the five minutes or more of his unloading, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
 
But as Stu ground his load even deeper into Dean, the pheromone flood of breeding cum scent got to Abe. His nostrils flared and his whole body responded with conflicting desires to dominate and to be dominated. His cock swelled back to full hardness, he wrapped his arms around Stu’s muscle- and milk-swollen chest and started pounding him again.
 
“Oh baby,” Abe growled, pummeling Stu. “Take it, TAKE IT! TAKE THAT BABY MAKER IN YOUR STAG HOLE!”
 
“Ever seen this before?” Jamie asked Chad, groping at his second-wind erection. 
 
“Fuck no,” mumbled Chad, his own cock hard stiffening yet again. Despite himself, it was hard to not get off on the illusion of Abe fucking a baby into a Stag ass.
 
Abe grunted hard and blasted another load into Stu, roaring “TOUCHDOWN, BABY! TOUCHDOWN!”

Abe’s dropped his weight onto Stu, and in turn Dean, burying him under their combined pregnant muscled mass.
 
Stu giggled and tenderly kissed Dean’s neck and head, his semi still oozing inside his new Buck’s cum-filled hole. He didn’t want his cock ever to do anything but this. Breeding bro holes was the reason he was here, and filling them with his fawns.

“You ever have a load that big in you?” Abe asked, mussing the Stag Buck’s sweaty hair in a gesture at once affectionate and cocky.
 
“Get this asshole off me,” Stu laughed, trying to shake off Abe as he snuggled his new Buck.
 
Chad and Jamie pulled Abe up to his feet, his spent cock smacking as it pulled out of Stu. He staggered backward, and Stu followed, leaving Dean to roll onto his back, near laughing with pleasure, exposing his oozing but not yet spent erection.

“Two fucking loads in a Stag Buck! CRUSHED IT!” Abe bragged, raising his powerful arms in triumph. “Bros, did you fucking SEE that?”
 
“I saw you about get killed,” laughed Chad, slapping Abe on his sweaty shoulder.
 
“I swear, it’s like I made that baby,” Abe said, pointing at Dean’s exposed belly. “It was like fucking LIGHTNING man, right out of my balls, through Stu, into that Buck.”
 
“Kind of like we all did,” said Jamie. “We were all in Stu when it happened.”
 
“Wow,” whispered Forrest, eyeing Dean’s growing erection. “Now what?”
 
Stu lay on the bed beside Dean, resting a hand on the Buck’s freshly filled belly, where his fawn would take hold and grow. He giggled with post-breeding satisfaction.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s fuck!”

– END –

---

The Rut is dedicated to a4f101, aka UnderTheMattress, aka ThePlaybro.

Please send your comments, suggestions, questions and ideas to [email protected].

Carson Brady was, without a doubt, my best friend. We met during our first year of college at LSU. We were both recruited to play football for the Tigers. I was a second-string quarterback, and Carson was a wide receiver. We both shared a deep love for the game, but it wasn’t our passion. Hence, neither one of us went pro. Off the field, we were a dynamic duo.

Over the years, people started to call me the “Whisperer.” I was the only one who could talk Carson off a ledge. My boy was a hot head, and when you looked like Carson, you could be a hot head and get away with it. Carson was a mid-western boy. He was from Iowa, and the boy was a true stereotypical midwestern jock, all cornbread fed and stocky.

He was tall, with a sturdy build and broad shoulders. His muscles were swollen from years of playing sports. Carson had that friendly, open face with a warm smile. He was also arrogant, ill-tempered, and, at times, very egotistical. There was also this other side to him that no one else saw. He was funny, protective of his friends and family, and giving.

Neither one of us had a problem with the ladies. Together we were charismatic as fuck. We got the duo nickname Dusk & Dawn. Women couldn’t resist Carson, the dirty blonde jock with blue eyes, or his best bud with the perfect chocolate skin and hazel eyes. Those years of college were legendary. Things slowed down after I married Mariah. Carson swore he’d never get married. Yet, here we are, in Vegas, throwing him his bachelor party.

We partied all weekend long. I went all out for my boy. I got the Claudius Vegas Villa at Caesars Palace, and we let the good times roll. Carson was having the time of his life. He deserved it. I was proud of him. His parents had been pressuring him for years to settle down, and when Sara came along, he chose to make her the one.

When Carson and I got back to the villa, it was 3 a.m. We were wasted. The other guys had left us at the casino earlier. The villa was dark and quiet. We were stumbling around in the dark, trying not to make any noises, but for some reason, we were giggling like some high school girls.

Everyone was sharing a room except for Carson. It was his bachelor party weekend, so he had the primary room to himself. I was about to head to my room, but he pulled my hand and led me down the hall to his room. This was typical of Carson. Whenever he got wasted, he would never want to sleep alone.

The lights were out in the room, but the moonlight from outside illuminated the inside. Carson immediately stripped down to his tight boxer briefs. I was amazed that he still managed to keep his stocky, beefy, thick-as-ham body after so many years. He had a dragon tattoo on his chest over his right pec. His quads were still thick as fuck. His skin was as smooth as a baby’s ass. He quickly climbed into bed. His round, thick glutes bounced as he moved.

With a wink, he said, “Justin, come snuggle with me.”

“Don’t you think we’re too old to be in bed together,” I said, laughing.

“I’m never too old to have my best friend in bed,” he said.

We were thick as thieves, and our motto was “Dusk & Dawn Against the World.” So, I shook my head at him and started to climb into the bed.

“Clothes off. I don’t want them scratching me,” he said.

I stopped in my tracks. I wasn’t sure why I listened to him. In the same way, I could talk Carson off a ledge; he could talk me onto one. If there were ever a guy who could make me get in bed with another guy, it would be Carson. I trusted him more than anyone in the world.

I slowly took my clothes off. I could feel Carson’s eyes on me the entire time. It felt like he was burning a hole in my body. Over the years I had lost most of my muscle. I had become a slim-toned version of my former self. For context, you could say I appeared to be more of a twink when compared to Carson’s stocky build.

Once I was down to my boxer briefs, I climbed into the bed. I lay next to the stocky stud. We had a decent amount of space between us.

“I miss how we used to do this back in college. Just lying in bed after a night of drinking and shooting the shit,” Carson said as he reflected on our past deeds.

I chuckled, “Fun times. If anyone had walked in on us, they would have sworn we were gay.”

“Who the fuck cares,” he asked.

“I do. I love you, dude, but I wasn’t going to be labeled a homo for you,” I said, trying my damnedest to sound macho.

He looked at me and said, “I would for you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

The conversation was becoming a little strange for me. It was starting to affect my high.

“No more drinking for you, Carson.”

“What’s wrong with me sharing my feelings?” The way he asked made me feel bad.

“Nothing wrong with it. Just don’t do it while we’re in a dark room in our underwear, man.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. Whatever bro. Thought you were my boy.”

I could hear the hurt in his voice. Something deeper was going on with him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I sat up in the bed and looked at him. He turned his head from me.

“Look at me, Carson.”

He didn’t look at me.

“Carson, look at me,” I said softer.

He slowly turned and looked at me. His blue eyes cut right through me. He pulled me deep into his world. He saw in my eyes that I was ready for whatever he needed.

“I don’t think I want to marry Sara,” he said.

“Why not? I thought you loved her?” I asked him, completely confused by his confession.

“Not like-” he stopped himself.

I threw my hands in the air, “Not like what? You can’t just leave me hanging.”

“Not like I love you, Justin,” he said.

I laughed, “Duh. I’m your best friend. I know where the bodies are buried. It’s not gonna be the same, Carson.”

“You don’t get it,” he said defeatedly.

“Then make me get it, bro,” I said, feeling frustrated.

He sat up, and before I could blink my eyes, he kissed me. I was frozen. My body wouldn’t allow me to move, and my mind couldn’t process it. His lips were actually pressed against mine, and his hands touched me. He moved his hand down my back and onto my ass. Reality came crashing back. I quickly pushed him off me.

“What the fuck are you doing? We’re straight, Carson,” I shouted quietly. I didn’t want to wake the others, but I wanted to convey my point.

He fired back, “Are we?”

The fucking audacity of him.

“I am,” I said with a firm tone.

He smirked, “Prove it.”

I gasped, “You know how many bitches I fucked? I’m married, son. That’s how straight I am.”

“But you love me more than you love your wife,” he said matter of fact.

His truth stung. I did love Carson way more than I loved my wife or anyone, for that matter. That pained me. I didn’t want what he was saying to be true.

I waved my finger, “Don’t do this, Carson. You’re gonna lose your best friend, man.”

I climbed out of bed. I quickly began to gather my things. Then he called my name. I wanted to ignore him. I wanted to run out of the room and never look at him again. He was fucking my head up.

“Justin? Justin, please look at me. Please,” he pleaded.

I slowly turned and looked at him. He was on his knees in the center of the bed. How could I leave him? He was the only person who truly understood me. We were an unstoppable duo.

“Be my dusk, and I’ll be your dawn,” he said with loving eyes.

Damn him! He could talk me into anything. I knew the second I turned around I would let him do whatever he wanted to me.

“This stays between us,” I said.

“What happens in Vegas. Stays in Vegas,” he said.

I climbed back into the bed. My heartbeat raced the entire time. We moved closer to one another. He pulled me into another kiss. This time, I didn’t fight it. I kissed him. Carson’s lips were fat and soft. They felt like velvet against my wet lips. His hands ran over my ass, and I touched his beefy cakes. He pulled me closer, and I could feel his growing bulge become firmer and firmer in his underwear. Our tongues wrestled each other for dominance.

We finally broke the kiss. We both were panting and out of breath. Our eyes locked, and he smiled at me. His face was pure joy, and it made me happy.

“What happens next, I asked.

“I have some thoughts. You trust me?” He sounded like the Carson I’d always known.

I hesitantly replied, “More than anyone else in the world.”

He stood up in the bed and pulled his underwear off. His dick was huge. It was nearly 9 inches long. It was cut and absolutely thick. I didn’t think my best friend was packing serious cock like that. His balls didn’t hang low, but they were round and full. He had a dark bush of pubes. I was stunned.

“You don’t like it,” he asked. He was suddenly feeling insecure.

I stuttered, “I-I thought that it would be-be- blonde pubes and maybe not so th-thick.”

He laughed, “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess.”

I laughed, “I’m not disappointed. I’m impressed. It’s a nice dick.”

“It tastes even better than it looks,” he said with a cocky shit-eating grin.

I took a deep breath and took his cock in my hand. It was the first time I had ever touched another man’s cock. It felt like mine but different. It looked almost like mine, except it was thicker and white, but we both had those angry pink heads.

I opened my mouth and slowly swallowed Carson’s cock. It was a beast of a cock, but it had this sweet and tangy taste that made me want more. I put a hand on his meaty cheeks and began to move my mouth up back and forth on his cock.

He stood above me, panting and groaning. He enjoyed my services. I had no idea what I was doing, but I figured if I did what I liked, it would be good. He pushed his dick deep into my mouth, and I gagged, nearly choking on his cock.

“Oh fuck, that feels amazing, Justin,” he exclaimed.

He began to fuck my throat. I struggled briefly to keep up, but my throat relaxed once I accepted my fate. Once my throat was relaxed, I took his cock with ease. I sucked him with a special kind of force. Before I knew it, I was drooling and spitting all over his member. Hearing him moan and knowing I was the reason for it filled me with something I couldn’t explain.

He had me get on my hands and knees. I was nervous about what he was going to do next. He pulled my underwear off. When my dick slapped the bed, I realized I was aroused by what was happening. He grabbed a handful of my ass and then slapped my cheeks.

“Fuck. It’s so fat, smooth, and perfect,” he said.

I gasped when I felt his tongue slide across my puckered virgin hole. He giggled, and then he started to feast on my anus. His tongue pushed into me, and he sucked my rosebud like a Tootsie Pop. He was trying his hardest to get to my center.

I had never had my ass played with before. It felt amazing. His tongue was twisting and turning inside of me. It kept pushing in and out. My body felt like it was on cloud nine. He pushed a finger inside my hole. I gasped at the intrusion. It initially felt uncomfortable, and I was about to protest until he twisted his finger and tapped something in me. I nearly screamed, and my cock leaked a river of precum.

“What the fuck,” I mumbled.

“Found your sweet spot,” he said.

“How the fuck do you know this? Have you been with guys before?” I needed to know.

“No, just porn and a lot of research. Been building my confidence for a few years now,” he said.

Years? He had been planning to do this for years. I was astonished for sure. He ran his cock up and down my crack, and I forgot all about his admission. His dick felt good, brushing along my taint and little hole.

He rolled me onto my back. I placed my legs on his shoulder. I knew what was coming. He asked me with his eyes, and I answered back with mine. Then the first cock to ever breach me indeed breached me. The fat head broke through the back door. I groaned in both a mix of pain and pleasure.

His cock head stretched me wide as the rest of the shaft followed. He rocked my body back and forth on his cock. Each time, more of his shaft sunk into my hot tunnel. My insides felt full. My body responded in ways I didn’t think were possible. These soft sounds came from me. I sounded like a straight-up bitch.

His pubes came to rest against my cheeks. I had taken all of his cock. My hole twitched around his cock. He smiled and then kissed me. I kissed him back. Then he started to move his hips and fuck me. I grabbed a pillow and bit down on it. My moans grew higher as he worked his fat cock in and out of my hole.

He drove it deep and slow in and out of me. His dick was so fat I wasn’t sure I could take him. He started to groan as he moved in and out of me. He picked up his pace, and the feelings in my anus grew. I slapped his chest, and he smiled.

“You’re a fighter. That turns me on, Justin,” he said as he flipped me on my stomach.

He drove his dick in and out of me. The muscles in my ass clenched. He moved past them on a mission to make me his. He put me on my knees and slowly stroked me. Each time his cock entered me, my walls spread a little more. He moved deeper inside of me. He positioned himself with his hands on my lower back and moved faster. My warm oven treated his cock like baked goods, not willing to let them go until they were done.

“You moan like a bitch. I love it,” he said proudly.

I couldn’t argue with him. I did indeed sound like a bitch. My hole became open and wet. He pushed me face-first into the bed and fucked me harder than before. My hole began to make a gushy sound. You may as well have called Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion and asked them to sing WAP! Carson had turned my hole into some wet ass pussy, and for some reason, that turned me on. He should have brought a mop and bucket if he knew he planned to fuck me.

We moved to the edge of the bed. He had my ass cheeks hanging off the bed. He fed my hole his giant member once again. He clapped my cheeks like lightning striking the earth. What had started as strange had slowly become pleasurable.

Something clicked in me. I had the thought to work the muscles in my anus. Carson’s groans grew louder.

“Fuck yeah. Work my cock, baby,” he groaned.

I started to work my hole. I bounced my ass back on him. He met me with every stroke. We had gone from me being fucked to us fucking each other. This was the way sex was supposed to be. Two people exchanged in a heated battle of power. I understood why men couldn’t get enough of fucking other men. I felt high off our exchange, and I felt more aroused than I had ever been.

My dick was as hard as steel. Carson pounded into my hole. He moved faster and harder. His balls smashed my taint repeatedly. My juices escaped my anus and ran down my legs and balls. I coated his fantastic cock with my cream.

“Fuck me. Just like that. Don’t stop. Pound me, Carson,” I moaned in a high-pitched voice.

“You gonna give me this ass whenever I want,” he asked as he fucked me.

“Yes, whenever. Oh, my fucking God,” I moaned.

Deeper and harder he went. His dick touched new depths inside of me. I worked my ass around his cock. Every thrust of his hips was met with a grip so warm and tight. He molded my insides to his cock. My ass sucked him in deeper. It refused to let him go. The sound of his meaty cheeks clapping together from the fucking blended in with my moans and his groans.

We sounded like a porn video was being produced in the room. I had no idea Carson could fuck the way he did. It was so good. I thanked God I wasn’t a woman because I knew I’d be a whore if every guy would fuck me that good.

He applied all his strength on my lower back and beat my ass out of the frame. My juicy ass made all types of strange sounds as he drove his dick in and out. He went faster and harder than before. I knew he was close to cumming. He was moving recklessly in and out of my open tunnel. My dick ached and begged for a release.

“I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna cum in you, Justin,” he said in my ear.

He pounded harder. I could feel his balls draw up. His dick started to rub across something in my ass. It made my toes tingle, and this weird sensation took over me. I cried out, and my dick spasmed and let over a river of hot cum across the bed.

I had no fight left in me. Carson took the advantage, and power fucked me like a beast. My hole was open and was making a sloppy noise. His ass jiggled as he continued to clap my cheeks. I was like pudding in his hands. He drove his fuck stick deeper and deeper into me.

“Fuck! Here it comes!” He roared.

His cock twitched and throbbed in my ass. Then he released a fountain of hot cum deep in my bowels.

We snuggled in bed together and drifted off to sleep. I woke up that morning to a beautiful sight. Carson was standing at the foot of the bed naked. He bent over, and those gorgeous pale cheeks slightly parted, and I caught a glimpse of his pretty pink hole. My mouth watered. He slowly pulled up his jeans. They got stuck under his cheeks, and he had to wiggle to get them the rest of the way up. His ass slowly disappeared under the fabric of his garments. The damage was done. My dick was hard. He turned around and smiled at me.

“Morning, bud. Listen, we made a lot of noise last night. I told the guys we brought some chick back and fucked her. So, play along,” he said with a grin.

I called out to him as he was about to walk out the door. He turned and looked at me.

“Next time, I fuck you,” I said lustfully.

He smiled, “I was scared there wasn’t gonna be a next time.”

I blew air, “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t bring you back to Vegas for your birthday?”

He chuckled, “What happens in Vegas-”

“Stays in Vegas,” we both said together.

He exited the room. I laid my head back on the pillow. Damn, he really turned me out. Son of a bitch!