Author: admin

(Lending a Hand)

The next morning at 6:01 A.M. station time, Jeremy and Stan had awoken, Jeremy first, and he had gently shaken Stan awake. He had woken up with a case of solid morning wood and wanted some attention. The dynamic was gradually changing between them, and they both liked it. In the past, when something like this occurred, Jeremy would have finessed his way into it, like maybe lowering the covers and showing the blond as a hint. Or said something like, “I suppose I couldn’t get you to take care of that?”

This morning, however, Jeremy had simply waited for Stan to get good and awake. Then once he was……..

Jeremy told him, “Slide down under the covers and suck me off.”

It had been that simple, and Stan disappeared below the covers and took his time and did a thorough job of servicing Jeremy. He kept getting better and better.

Once finished, they got up and put on pajamas and a bathrobe and went up to eat a nice breakfast. The LT and Rachel had worked together, and it was a great breakfast. As they sat eating, they talked, and the LT had an ask.

The LT said, “This is totally not regulation, but Jeremy and Stan, all the bases on the island seem to be back up and functional. With the exception, and you know there must be one, Palmer station, the one most distant from us up in the northwest. They have an engineering problem no one can solve; it is not a secret that you guys are supposed to be like super brains. Feel neighborly enough to take a helicopter ride and at least have a look at it for them. They got a thousand people subsisting from auxiliary generators?”

Stan looked at Jeremy, who said, “We would be happy to help if we can, what about Rachel?”

The LT said, “After seeing how easy it is to get stuck, Rachel, you want to suit up and go with us? If something were to happen, it would leave you here all alone, uncomfortable with that.”

Rachel said, “Sure, I’m up for a helicopter ride, and I’m a physicist, so I may be able to help as well.”

The LT said, “It’s settled then. After breakfast, we’ll suit up and head out. This place is not the best place to be flying around. Crosswinds are coming from the ocean and such, so it will probably take us an hour and twenty or an hour and a half to fly each way. We have those heavy-duty military helicopters, like what brought you here, so there is plenty of fuel.”

All Stan had taken was a laptop; he could access the A.I. here; they would have every kind of tool one could think of at Palmer station. They had been in the air about ten minutes, and everyone on board, but the LT, who already knew, could see what he meant; it was a choppy ride. Rachel sat up front with the LT, and Stan and Jeremy were in the next row of seats back. They could talk through the radios on the headsets, otherwise it would be hard to hear one another.

Jeremy smiled at Stan and said, “Bet you are surely wishing you were cutting some waves on a surfboard now, don’t you, California man?”

Stan replied, “I never get in the ocean, and I have a saying about that.”

Rachel said from up front, “I bet this will be a good one, what is it?”

Stan grinned and replied, “I am of the opinion that any sentient being that willingly places themselves into an environment where they are suddenly at the bottom of the food chain, is none too bright.”

Finally, they landed, and this station had many more buildings up top than Culver. They were met by a civilian commander, Hutchings. He was a big, brawny man who was quick to smile and had a good sense of humor.

He approached the LT as they stepped away from the helicopter and asked, “So, are these the super nerds?”

The LT said, “They are quite smart; this one is Jeremy Odell, this is Stan Leighton, and this lovely creature is Rachel.”

“High guys I am Bob Hutchings.”

This was Stan’s area, “So you cannot get your power grid to stabilize?”

Hutchings said, “Goodness, you are younger than my son, that’s right.

The LT said, “Don’t let their youth fool you, Bob. They know what they are doing.”

They went to where the main station was, took some meters, and connected them up. At various places, Stan asked the big man to throw juice at it. It began almost fine, but quickly, the power levels dropped. They took about a half hour to test components, then Stan knew.

Young Stan came over to the big man, Hutchings, “Sir, can I get access to your software that regulates this? Believe you got scrambled, and you have some polarization taking place.”

Hutching said, “Shit!”  Then looked at Rachel, “Sorry, Ma’am.”

Jeremy said, “What’s wrong? If the software got fragged, our backups did too; the station designers were not very wise.”

Stan grinned at him, “No problem, I will write you new software, it will probably even work better than what you had.”

As they started, big Bob Hutchings said, “He can do that?”

Jeremy smiled, “And how, you better believe he can do that.”

They got up to the control room, and Stan got a satellite link with SKIPPER to assist him; this would not take long.

He erased all the damaged code and began anew. SKIPPER filled out a great deal of it. He was typing code like a maniac, never making any errors. He knew exactly what he wanted, and from time to time, SKIPPER would make suggestions. He was already way ahead of the A.I., which was neat because it kept learning from him.

He began the programming initializing and established a link with SKIPPER.

He told Hutchings, “This happens again, we can zip you a backup from Culver station. I am a great believer in redundancy. The software kicked in, the power grid took off at 110% efficiency, and it held.

Bob Hutchings said, “Thank goodness, why aren’t you working up here?”

Stan looked around, “Well, I am that will be $19.99. Would you like me to check your tire pressure, sir?”

“No, son. We’ll take 110% efficiency on our grid. Thank you so much. Thanks for bringing him up here, LT.”

The flight back had been choppy and gut-wrenching; Jeremy handed Stan and Rachel a Zofran and took one himself. The LT was used to it. Soon they were landing back at Culver Station. They got out and helped the LT cover the helicopter up and Rachel opened the base with her ID. They all went and showered and put regular clothes on. Stan was in a tight pair of shorts, house shoes, and a Tee Shirt that said, “Maybe I don’t love L.A. so much.”

Rachel, Jeremy, and Stan sat in the den to have a drink and let their stomachs settle before a meal. The LT was charcoaling hamburgers and frying French fries.  She went to help slice tomatoes and onions and perhaps make a dessert; she liked being around the big LT.

Jeremy fixed Stan a Long Island Tea and got himself a drink of scotch. Damn it they were underground with most likely extraterrestrial beings in Antarctica they were allowed to drink.

Jeremy got a funny look on his face and sat next to Stan, and he undid his pants, grabbed Stan’s left hand, and slid it over down inside his underwear. Stan grinned and began to play with his balls.

Jeremy said, “Nice, just like that. You did a damned fine job at Palmer Station. I would not be surprised if they did not erect your statue. You know, I was always so bright and learned things so easily; few people in the world hold the kind of degree of power I do, and I am only 25. Sometimes I feel stupid or useless in the same room with you.”

Stan turned his green eyes towards him, “You are every bit as smart as me, if not smarter. It is just that a great deal of the stuff we have run into has been in my areas of expertise. There may come a time when our very survival depends on you, and I won’t have a clue what to do. We are smart at different things is all.”

They ate in a half hour, and all laughed; Rachel said she and the LT were going to watch a movie. Stan who had been carefully still rubbing Jeremy’s balls under the table.

Jeremy said, “I think me, and Stan are tired; go back to the room, get some kind of reading in, or something, and we will turn in early. Tomorrow, we need to start strategizing about what to do about what is in the lab.”

Rachel said, “I agree, all day lab day tomorrow.”

Jeremy, as he surreptitiously buttoned and zipped his fly closed, said, “LT, you and Rachel owe me a physical as well. We must do it every six weeks. Also, if either of you takes any maintenance meds, I need to know. Don’t run out of them or do without.”

Jeremy was stalling for a moment to let his hard-on go back down; for that fact, so was Stan. Jeremy thought it was best to keep an eye on both their testosterone levels; they were not high enough to be problematic yet if they continued to rise however, they could be. He could easily counter it with medication, but that was not called for yet.

The two got up and said goodnight, the LT and Rachel told them goodnight as well.

As soon as they were back in their quarters, Jeremy said, okay, god of physics-like things and programming. Off with every stitch of clothing you have on. Stan looked at him pleasantly, and he obeyed. It’s a bit of a test first, with no restraints. Jeremy undressed and then went and found his tennis shoes; the more he did this, the more he liked it. He was going to add a twist and see what an unbound Stan would do.

He sat down on the side of the bed, “Okay, Stan, put my tennis shoes on for me and lace them up good.”

Stan didn’t hesitate. He got down on his hands and knees, put them on him, and laced them up well. Jeremy wasn’t sure where this idea came from; he did not typically watch videos like this or fantasize about it. Yet the idea was making him as hard as could be. Stan waited on the floor on his knees awaiting instruction.

Jeremy slid his shoes out a little bit, leaned over, and let a liberal amount of spit run down from his mouth onto one.

He looked at Stan, “Okay cocksucker, time to spit shine that shoe for me.”

His submissive Stan didn’t even hesitate; he leaned down and delivered long licks to his spit-covered shoe. Jeremy had a clear moment and thought, why am I having him do this? I have never had anyone do this before. It was not a particular fantasy he had ever jerked off to. Though watching the blond do it with such enthusiasm was making him hot. Something was out of place here.

After about five minutes, he leaned over and let a long trail of his spit cover the top of the other shoe.

“Get on that my shoeshine cocksucker bitch.”

Stan immediately moved over and went to work.

Jeremy thought, ‘Shoeshine cocksucker bitch?’ He was not above some light dirty, talking to a submissive partner, this was not him, but he was so horny, and it was making him so hot. Again, something was out of place, why? Maybe he was just hornier than he thought? His submissive was not just licking that shoe for him more than he was attacking it.

Another thought ran through his head, “[Exposure Detected], Chance of harmful medical effects = 0.” What if the damn thing was wrong, it might be powerful, but it was just an overgrown calculator. He had the submissive work the tops and soles of his tennis shoes for about half an hour, adding plenty of spit along the way.

“Okay, enough, Stan, sand up.”

The handsome blond did, he took the shoes off and tossed them back into the pile of unpacked stuff. He got up and went to the wardrobe and looked around, these looked interesting, and that would work just fine with them. He also got a new bottle of lube he could swear there was more there than there had been before. He came back over to Stan and threw most of the stuff on the bed. What he kept were differing lengths of thin leather-looking belts.

“Stan, put your feet together with your ankles together, but your arms down your sides, and keep them snugly in place there.”

His submissive complied, “and ne started at his ankles and worked to his upper chest and wrapped the belts around him and tightened them snugly. He always fastened them out of range for one of his hands to reach. He was all secured up.

He went over to a computer that was on the desk and badged into it. He set the music kind of loud; it had nice speakers, and set it to random rock. He then walked over to the bed and got a ping-pong paddle. The music started with, Pat Benatar’s, “Hit Me with Your Best Shot,”

He pushed Stan’s front up the bed but let him stand he just had the bed for balance. He got in a good position and delivered a good smack to the right cheek of his ass.

“Whap!”

Now the left cheek, “Whap!”

He did this for a while, alternating between ass cheeks, and waiting a bit between cycles to let the sting go down so he could feel it again. His normally tanned and nice ass was now red, he was hitting him but not overly hard. Enough so he would know it, probably for a couple of days. He was unsure how long this lasted, but he got a cogent thought through. Sure, he was not past a good smack now and again, even light impact play, nothing like this. He was just on fire and wanted to do it, but he could do it. He finished with that and threw the ping-pong paddle onto the bed.

He got down and took the belt fastened around his submissive’s knees.

He turned him around, “Get on your knees, Stan.”

He helped him maintain balance; he did not want him to fall. Once he was down here, he took his shoulders and put them on the back of the bed. Then he took his hand, put it on his right forehead, and laid it back on the bed.

He leaned his head down so he could hear him, “Stay just like this, I am going to lean over you and mouthfuck you. Open for me, and don’t try to move around any; lay here and take it.”

Stan looked at him with green eyes and nodded his obedience.

Jeremy leaned over the top of him carefully and got lined up right. He pushed the head of his cock up to his submissive’s lips who opened them to let him in. He pushed in and was not slow in how deep he went. He could not hear well now as Aerosmith’s “Jannie’s Got a Gun” played loudly.  The first two or three times he went in deep, Stan gagged rather loudly.

He continued to give the submissive a steady rough mouthfucking. He had great leverage from this position, and his submissive would cooperate; he could not go anyplace. Jeremy laid his chest on the bed, and it felt so good, he had closed his eyes, to the good feeling.

He opened them, and now it was somewhat different; he had dark eyes, but all his eyes, completely, were dark as night. He continued to mouthfuck the submissive. His completely dark eyes were not focused on anything. If they were how would anyone know?

To Stan, this was the roughest Jeremy had been with him, but he didn’t mind. He was having to work to control the gagging occasionally, and his ass was burning like crazy. Jeremy would give him a solid smack to the ass every so often but had never paddled him before. It did provide a huge endorphin rush to his body, so the ass might sting, but his whole body was getting the benefits of the endorphins. He had broken out into a profuse sweat, and the tips of his hair were getting a bit damp.

Jeremy had stopped what he was doing, lifted him, and had him standing on the floor with his stomach on the bed again. Fuck he was strong he had moved Stan like a paperweight. He was lubing his cock up and putting some on his submissives hole. He put the head to his hole and immediately began to apply pressure till it slid in and he wasted no time going deep.

“Uhm,” Stan could not help but make a noise to that; this time, Jeremy did not give it time to settle; he began to immediately fuck Stan at a fast and hard pace.

It was a bit painful for Stan at first, but then it felt quite good. His Dominant was not letting up, and he was getting a true pounding this time. Jeremy had leaned over him and was using his body to hold Stan in place and the floor for leverage.

Stan thought this was quite erotic, he liked this rougher side of Jeremy.

Like it, hate it, learn to love it because the bigger man was dishing it out this way. He went and went, and finally pushed in as far as he could, and Stan could feel his cock as it pulsed up inside him.

Jeremy simply went, “Uhm-Uhm!” until he was completely done.

He grabbed Stan once again and laid him on his back on the side of the bed, and laid his head down on his chest, looking downward. He took the lube and poured some up the length of Stan’s cock. With a very strong grip, he took hold and began to slide his hand up and down it. He started fast from the get-go.

Stan said, “Oh.”

Jeremy stroked him up and down, and never slowed down. Stan was beginning to feel it tingle, he must have been super horny.

His solid black eyes looked down at what he was about to cause to happen, but he never showed any emotion.

Stan was about to fold under this, he was really stroking him fast.

“Fuck me!”

Stan’s cock began to shoot his cum all over his pubic area and abdomen. Jeremy never slowed down a bit

Stan began to wriggle a little bit when the port orgasmic sensitivity hit him, but he could not really move. Jeremy closed his eyes, and when he opened them back up, they were his eyes. He slowed down a little bit. He lifted his head up and looked at Stan.

“You okay, my Stan the man?”

Stan said, “Uh, Uhm, doing fine here that felt fantastic.”

When the sensitivity was gone, Jeremy undid the leather straps holding him and began to put them away.

“How about getting us a shower ready Stan?”

Stan said, “Sure.”

He went into the bathroom and got out towels and washrags. It did not take Jeremy long to follow him. They showered, got out, and dried off.

Jeremy said, “You wore me out.”

Stan smiled at him, and they laid down with Jeremy holding him close. Soon he was asleep, and Stan rose. He just put on a bathrobe and went up and joined Dr. Rachel Stockton and the LT sitting on the couch watching a movie.

Rachel offered Stan some popcorn and turned to look at him. Now, that was in no way right; he usually had emerald, green eyes that were solid black. He was regarding the television and ignoring the popcorn. She just looked, trying to comprehend what could cause that; it got the LT’s attention.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed and began to get up. Rachel reached a handover and placed it on his leg to keep him still.

She said, “Stan are you okay?”

He didn’t even look at her, nor did he answer.

Rachel looked at the LT, “Something tells me that currently, Stan is not at home. I would advise against any sudden movements, and for goodness sake, do not make whatever that is feel you are a threat.”

The LT was just a meat and potatoes guy, “What is wrong with his eyes?”

She replied, “It is hard to say, but I don’t think that it is a general, everyday, run-of-the-mill medical condition.”

Jeremy had woken up when Stan got out of the bed. He came into the den in a bathrobe, and he saw Stan’s solid dark eyes. He did a double take and slowly walked over to Stan. He looked at Rachel and the LT and looked unsure.

He said, “Stan, can you hear me?”

Stan looked up at him, blinked his eyes a few times, and they returned to the normal green color.

Stan asked, “I am sorry Jeremy, what did you say?”

Jeremy grabbed him and hugged him.

Stan said, “Well, that’s nice; how’d I get in the den? I thought we had gone to bed. I have never had a bout of somnambulism before; how long have I been up here and ouch.”

Jeremy said, “Ouch? Are you in pain?”

Stan looked funny, “Excuse us guys, Jeremy please step into the kitchen with me please,”

Jeremy followed him to the kitchen, and Stan took his bathrobe off

He told Jeremy, “You really wore me out with that ping pong paddle. Don’t get me wrong if that is your thing okay.”

Jeremy was looking at his angry red ass, “You are telling me I did that?”

Stan said, “You don’t remember?”

Jeremy hugged him close, “I would never hurt you like that, put your robe back on and come to medical with me”

Rachel and the LT followed them down, and Jeremy searched around till he found what he was looking for,

He told Rachel and the LT, “Guys we need some privacy,”

Stand said, “I am sure a female of Rachels’s good looks, and such has seen it all before. The LT is in the Navy you know he has. Jeremy, the more minds we have on this, the better.”

Stan turned around and said, “Ladies and gentlemen my ass.”

Jeremy pulled his bathrobe up, and they could all see how red it was. Jeremy immediately began to put the medicated ointment on it.

LT asked Jeremy, “Get a little rough with the paddle chief?”

Dr. Jeremy Odell said, “Apparently so; I just don’t remember it.” He gently massaged the ointment into the inflamed skin, and it felt much better.

Rachel said, “What’s with the eyes, they were all dark.”

Stan said, “Apparently, we have some extraterrestrial hijackers. Bad news, they lose; I get in the lab tomorrow I will stop that shit; I believe I know just how.”

Rachel said, “So, they don’t want to be good guests?”

Stan said, “We don’t know what their intentions are as of yet, but that kind of stuff is unacceptable.”

Jeremy, “Agreed.”

Stan said, “We are far from helpless so that we will see tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culver’s Basement:

The video was spread all over the room

 

Dr. Culver, “What the fuck is it with extraterrestrials? Every time they want to like to blow the White House up, turn us into pod people, or paddle my fucking geniuses to death!”

The Scratchy Voice, “Must admit thought if it weren’t for the black eye thing it would have been hot.

The voice is so anesthetizing you know it’s a psychologist, “Hell, even with the black eyes, I will take it.”

The guy with the cigarette blew a puff in the air, “They always do us this way Culver because you are such as Ass,

The anesthetizing psychologist said, “Have you ever once stopped to consider cancer man rip-off that you just might be the Ass?”

He blew more smoke in the air, “It Is within the realm of possibility that I could be an Ass, but that still does not preclude Culver from being an Ass too.”

Dr. Culver, “Sure I am Ass, everyone knows it, but that doesn’t change that fact the damned extraterrestrials paddled the hell out of one of my geniuses. Which coincidentally, by the way, it was hot.”

When I was away from Ascension Island on holiday there was luckily more activity on Sniffies. And so I started chatting with Dave. Dave was a 58 year old man, married and curious. 

We chatted for a couple of days and exchanged some photos, the usual stuff. One day he mentioned he and his wife would be going to a bar close by and if I wanted we could ‘accidently’ see each other in real life before we decided if we would hookup or not. 

I went to the bar later and there was nobody there besides the barman. I ordered a beer and took a seat at a table in the corner. After about 10 minutes a man walked in with a beautiful woman following him. He was greeted by the barman calling him Dave. 

Now I was wondering how Dave had taken the photos he had sent me. This man was rather chubby, to say the least. He was also grey. Again, the wife looked beautiful. Classy, blond (fake I assumed), lots of makeup and tall. She was wearing a red dress showing enough cleavage so no one would underestimate the size of her breasts.

Dave must have money. In the photos I had already noticed his cock was below average in size so that could not be it. But I was really in need of something so those things were not that important. But I was intrigued by Dave and what he wanted from me.

After they ordered drinks and sat down at the bar Dave also noticed me sitting in the corner. I mentioned to him I would wear a ring on my right thumb. This because it can be quickly removed if you immediately decide the guy is a no-no. But I decided to raise my right hand to greet him.

Anyway, I watched how relaxed they were chatting away with the barman. I had to go for a refill at the bar and while the barman poured my draught she started chatting to me too. I ended up having to stick around at the bar listening to all her stories. A rather awkward situation considering the fact her husband wanted to fuck me.

Dave kept intriguing me. He came over as a bit of a daddy, which I didn’t mind at all. In fact, the more I looked at him as such, the more I wanted him. After a couple of beers I left and said goodbye. 

The next day Dave messaged me to apologize for his wife. I told him not to worry and that I was more interested to find out if he still wanted to hookup. Yes, he did. He ran a guesthouse and we could easily and discreet meet there. Now the question was what he would like to do.

One of his fantasies was fucking a guy dressed like a woman wearing lingerie. For me that was a pleasant surprise. I like to be submissive and feminine so this was like a wish coming true. All I told him was I wanted it rough and the next day suited me fine.

The next day came and I prepared by making sure I was nice and smooth for him. He would bring some of his wife’s lingerie and makeup. I went to the guesthouse and Dave guided me into room 5, a luxury room. He told me he left all in the bathroom and he would be back in 15 minutes.

Good thing his wife was tall. Fishnet stockings, lace bodysuit and a miniskirt. All black. I showered quickly again and put it on. Then glossy red lipstick and some sort of purple eyeshadow. I heard him knocking and coming back in. I heard him locking the door and closing the curtains. 

I opened the bathroom door and slowly made my way into the bedroom. He had the lights dimmed and waited for me with two glasses of champagne. He gave me one and told me I looked beautiful. Somehow this turned me on even more.

I had a sip of my champagne and then placed the glass on the cabinet next to the bed. Down on my knees I went in front of the bed waiting for him to come over. He walked up to me. I undid his zip and opened up his pants. Gently I started kissing and stroking his underwear where his cock was waiting for me. 

I noticed how his cock got harder when I went over his balls. I also noticed some precum leaving a mark on his undies. I pulled them down just enough to take out his cock and balls and continued with his sack. Luckily he wasn’t too hairy down there. Then I let my tongue slide further up.

His erect cock was indeed not that big. His sack was though and I couldn’t wait to feel his balls slapping my ass when he was going to fuck me. I now tied up my naturally long hair and placed my hands behind my back. I opened my mouth and moved my tongue around the tip of his cock licking off precum.

Then my tongue moved further and under his foreskin. Going around I made sure I didn’t miss any precum. It tasted nice and I wanted more. He pulled back the foreskin to expose the head. I closed my mouth around it teasing it with the tip of my tongue.

I opened my mouth and let go of his head. I saw a little bit of a ring around his cock left by the lipstick. He said I should go on and suck him. ‘Suck it, bitch!’ I was getting horny as hell now. I placed my tongue under his shaft and guided it inside.

He placed his hands behind my head and pushed it in all the way. He kept it there for a couple of seconds before he started moving forward and back fucking my face. His cock wasn’t long enough to actually enter my throat so he could do this as rough as he wanted.

He did start getting rougher. Holding my head in a tight grip he fucked away like a madman calling me a slut and a bitch. I felt his belly constantly bouncing off my head. Somehow I enjoyed this. I wished I could see myself being face fucked by the chubby daddy. 

He then grabbed me by the throat, pulled me up and threw me on the bed. He moved me around till my head was hanging over the edge. His cock came close and I sucked his balls as soon as they came close enough. Even his saggy balls I could not resist. 

He pulled back a bit and I left my mouth open for what was coming. He managed to get in a bit further this way, teasing the entrance to my throat but still not getting far enough. I closed my mouth and sucked hard while he fucked away. The taste of his precum got nicer and nicer. His sack being pushed in my face time after time making breathing difficult.

He reached out for my skirt and I realized his hands tried to get to my ass. In front under the skirt my caged cock was covered but the mere string at the back allowed for easy access.

I got up and continued sucking his cock as I went on my knees. He pulled the skirt back and started massaging and slapping my butt. He said he was close and I stopped sucking. I turned my ass towards him on the edge of the bed and used the large amount of saliva build up to start fingering my asshole in front of Dave. 

When I felt it was ready and wet I told him to fuck me. I felt his small cock entering and reminded him I liked it rough. He started banging my ass and I felt his balls slapping mine. I pulled my bum cheeks as far apart as possible. For me to get maybe and extra cm in and for him to enjoy the view of his cock in my ass.

He fucked me and when he said he was almost there he pulled out. I jumped up and pushed him on the bed. He masturbated in front of me. I pulled his hand off and began sucking him as deep and hard as possible till I felt the explosion in my mouth. 

Like I good girl I swallowed it all and licked the last drops of his cock. I opened my mouth to him so he could see it was all gone. Only then I had my second sip of the champagne. We chatted a bit while we showered off and then it was time to go.

On my way out Dave mentions he has a friend. They apparently sometimes watch porn and wank together, but nothing more. Unlike himself his friend is very well endowed. He is a bit older, slim and tall. No further info.

Dave asks me if this friend can fuck me while he watches. I don’t have to think about this very long. This will probably end up in both fucking me. ‘Going to need poppers and lube by the sound of it.’ 

I told him I’ll do the shopping. I wanted to select a nice butt plug for this one, my own tools still on Ascension. I will tell you next time how my ass turned into a cum dump.

I was having a nightmare.

My brother-in-law Dick was taking me up the arse – but fuck he only had a three inch cock not his usual thick nine incher, and fuck oh fuck, his best mate Jack (winner of the gold medal for biggest cock in school remember) was up there too, and his was only two inches long, not the eleven which had pounded me before. What a fuckin nightmare.

Then the nightmare changed course suddenly, the pair of them grunted, the hairy buggers – and fuck I felt them grow and swell inside me.

They were soaring upward, like thick iron rods up my arse, like pounding thrusting thick hot iron rods. They were filling me up and it was all as cute as fuck, and they were fucking me silly. I was doing the sums, so many fucking inches pressed tight against one another and fuck knows the girth, but I was taking it all.

Dick and Jack were grunting like hogs.

I was bouncing up and down on the hairy fuckers and jeez it was not gonna last long and fuck I felt my bouncing balls tighten and swell and reach boiling point till … Jesus Mother of Christ, I blew.

Just as the spunk shot out and up and this way and that and all over the fucking place – the pair of them thrust upwards like hot steel rockets and propelled semen into the very depths of me and filled me up.

I thought the spunk might gush out of my mouth. And fuck it did. This was a fucking dream after all– and their cum shot out between my lips, like projectile vomit, only much nicer.

I shouted out so fucking loud I woke up, sure I was shouting out for real, never mind cumming for real.

Nicky was shaking me fully awake, saying my name.

 

You’re having a nightmare, Ryan, it is just a nightmare.

Some bloody nightmare, as I lay back on the pillows, my bare chest rising and falling. Had I bloody cum on my stomach again?

I tried a finger down there where my treasure trail ran below my belly button to my groin, yup, I had spattered. My cock was leaking.

In fact this was a recurring wet dream, ever since I’d had that sunny holiday with Dick and Jack and the girls.

But heck they really had taken me up the arse, both of them, on the last night of the hols, and my arse was sore for a week, but a kinda contented kinda soreness I did not want to go away. I wanted them back in there, both of them. The memory was invading my dreams.

In fact on the nights when Nicky stayed at home and was alone in my wide bed, I relived the best bits of Dick and Jack fucking me, added some details, but there really was no need, the facts had been good enough.

For a start there had been that big black dildo down my throat, just for laughs, and there had been Jack flat on his hairy back, with his fuckin monster standing up thick and tall, ready to let me slide down it, well-greased and me moaning. Then there had been Dick, standing out like a truncheon and squeezing his way into me, into what passed for a fucking gap. And me shouting out, and my prostate tingling, and those two huge fuckers pounding me.

Take my big dick, shouted out Dick, as his thrusting went out of control. I could hear his balls slapping. Jack was speechless beneath me, just grunting like a hairy boar, as that cock of his did its work.

And all that cum. My arse full like some Japanese cartoon flood, their shooting cocks submerged in spunk. And me, poor me, blasting one almighty screaming hot load, half a pint over his hairy pecs. half a foaming pint all over Jack’s bearded (delighted) face,

Fuck it was worth re-running again. And again. My energetic right fist was expert at conjuring up the excitement of it all.

I turned away from Nicky, hoping he could not sniff the fresh spunk on my belly, and pretended to go back to sleep

I needed my beauty sleep anyway.

Remember Justin? He was the cool black shop assistant who sold me those silly speedos and the new jock too. He had left a message while we were all away, something about me being due a refund.

After the hols I was feeling a bit on the horny side. I spent a lot of time starting texts to Dick, then deleting them. I did not have Jack’s number, probably just as well. Poor Nicky had decided he was fed up with penetrative sex and anyway was hoping for a promotion, that was his priority and he was doing prep for that in the evenings.

At the weekend I popped into that cool shop, fingers crossed Justin was going to be the Saturday boy. He was.

Heck, his smile was white.

He called me by name. Not sure how he knew that anyway.

He explained that there had been a product recall on the speedos The stitching had been not up to their usual standards. It had been discovered that gentlemen had been popping out of them at the pool.

He told me this with a straight face.

I remembered Dick’s yellow speedos tearing in front of my face,  under pressure from his nine inch hard-on.

I burst out laughing.

Have you had any problems with the pair you bought Ryan, asked Justin, with the barest hint of a smile. You chose the blue I remember, a wise choice.

I laughed.

I got through the holiday without any popping mishaps, Justin, I replied.

He nodded.

Good to know. Your brother-in-law said he’d had some problems, that’s all. I just wondered if there had been any other problems in the family?

Dick? You’ve spoken to Dick?

Oh yes, said Justin, with the flicker of a smile. Your brother-in-law Richard popped in.

Before he popped out? I said it out loud.

I personally discussed Richard’s refund with him, said Justin, Of course there were special circumstances. Your brother-in-law is rather a well built gentleman.

Fuck, had Dick got his cock out in this shop and fucked Justin in the changing rooms? Is that why Justin is smiling?

So, I said, what do you mean by a refund?

Justin held up a pair of jazzy patterned speedos.

These are our new line. Perfect stitching.

Did my brother-in-law take those, I gulped.

Yes indeed, smiled Justin, he did. Insisted he try them on here on the premises. He was very satisfied.

These new speedos featured a retro print of yellow bananas.

Do you want to try them on here? If I can be of any assistance of course, just shout.

I am shouting Justin, I murmured.

He led me to the changing room, carrying the pair of speedos.

Shall I fit them for you, he said innocently enough.

I unbuckled my belt and unzipped and stepped out of my jeans.

I was glad I was in some classy briefs that day, although they did little to restrain the sudden glorious hardness of my cock, as I stood there in front of Justin, aroused and erect.

Perhaps I should have brought the bigger size, asked Justin,

I was standing there in my tee and socks, with my hard-on filling out my white pants.

Shall I help said Justin.

He bent down and took hold of my briefs.

Good choice, he said, reading the label, and pulled them down.

Excuse me, I said, as my hard-on swung out, released into the open, a few inches from Justin’s beautiful black fingers and his beautiful black mouth.

Jesus, I exhaled.

Justin seemed to be ignoring my cock, and asked if he could help with the speedos.

I stepped into them, and he eased them up my hairy legs, over my knees, up my thighs, till they were nestled just below my hanging balls. My cock of course was not hanging down.

Let’s have a try, said Justin, and pulled the banana print fabric up over my balls and as far up my hard-on as he could manage.

My knob was sticking up over the top, pressed into the hairs on my belly, the purple tip a good contrast with the yellow bananas.

May I, said Justin, and he gently took hold off my knob and tucked it out of sight.

It looked crazy in the mirror. My hard cock squeezed in.

Justin, I breathed, did you help my brother in law out like this too, the personal touch?

Oh yes, said Justin, Shall I show you what sort of service he asked for?

Please do, I murmured.

Justin stood in front of me, then casually he undid the belt on his elegant navy trousers, unbuttoned his flies, and stepped out of his trousers.

Fuck, he was in a white jock, a full white jock, full of big dark dick and balls. His thighs were dotted with black curls, His jock was fringed with more of that.

Did you keep that on for him, I asked.

Yes Ryan, for a bit anyway. But then I did this …

I felt Justin’s lips on my swollen knob through the cloth, felt his lips, felt his tongue, felt him sucking.

Those stupid speedos were so sheer it felt like I had an ultra thin condom stretched over my knob.

I could feel myself leaking, dripping.

Perhaps I had better … said Justin, and he eased off the pants, and felt him for real, swallowing my cock head, then a couple of inches, then a couple more, and then a couple more.

I was right down Justin’s throat.

I moaned.

Fuck, Dick, oh fuck Dick.

I began to thrust harder. Justin was choking, spluttering, swallowing.

Out of consideration I pulled out.

Justin grasped me, wanked me.

When did you last cum Ryan?

Four days I muttered, which was a lie. That morning about 8am was the truth.

Richard said the same, said Justin, and smiled. Massive load.

Did he fuck you, I breathed.

Yeah, said Justin, bareback, like a horse. A big horse.

Get down on all fours, I barked.

I was balls deep – no mercy – in a moment, feeling for the front of his jock, cupping the outline of his balls, feeling the long thin hard length of him jutting out.

Justin squealed as I rammed him.

Like this I shouted, was it like this, with fuckin Dick?

Yeah, yeah, he moaned, like that, just like that. Hard, fast, he rode me hard and fast.

I rode him hard and fast.

He tore off my tee.

I tore of his tee.

He spat on me.

I spat on his dark back. The spit looked like a stream of cum.

He pulled my hair.

I pulled his hair.  

(Justin squealed)

He fuckin throttled me too.

I fuckin throttled him.

He bit my neck the fucker.

(No way, that was a step too far)

He lost his fuckin load big time.

Now that one I could do.

I lost my fuckin load big time. And I mean big time.

Dick shouted out, so did I.

Justin shouted, so did I.

I felt him cum, gushing in his jockstrap. My fingers suddenly soaked and sticky.

I shot another load up his ass.

Sweet Jesus. Oh sweet Jeus.

The pair of us were just breathless, heaving.

For a bit I just stayed inside him, hand on his stiff prick, watching the image in the mirror, my red face, my sweaty brow, my hairy bare arse, his elegant dark limbs, his pleased grin.

Thank you sir, said Justin. That was most enjoyable.

Was it is as enjoyable as my brother-in-law?

He paused, before saying – Pretty much the same, equally enjoyable.

I pulled out with a groan and with me came a fuck of a lot of spunk. It ran down his black legs. I licked it off him and fed some it back to him. His lovely pink tongue licked my fingers clean.

What about that – did Dick spunk as much?

Justin smiled.

Your brother-in-law was the same, very messy. Perhaps sir would like to use the customer bathroom before we return to the shop floor? The fragrances are excellent. Be my guest.

Justin wrapped up the banana print speedos, now a little damp, placed them in a cute little bag, and I went home content.

That night was a Saturday and Nicky called off. I drank rum and coke, texted my sister, discovered Dick was out on the lash with Jack, the selfish bastard she said, drank more rum and coke, and then sent Dick a photo of my new banana speedos.

Sometime after midnight I heard the buzz of my phone. It was Dick.

Snap. Model them 4 me u hot cunt.

With my cock stiffening I slipped them on and sent him the picture.

Dirty bastard, the reply came, ur getting me horny. Jack 2.

Get in a taxi. Will leave door open.

Got any booze?

Big bottle rum.

Fab. 2 big cocks coming up. LWOFF.

(That was one of Dick’s regular jokes – it stood for “Legs wide open for fucking”)

 

I applied deodorant and cologne and went to bed in my stained but  dried banana speedos, and promptly fell asleep or must have, as the next thing I remember was Dick at the foot of the bed, tickling the soles of my bare feet. I tried to sit up and found I was tied to the bed, spreadeagled, like some poor virgin sacrifice in a pagan ritual.

Right on cue my cock stood up hard in its banana print.

Dick was taking off his shirt.

Jack was finishing off the knots which secured my left ankle to the bottom of the bedstead.

Hi Ryan, he said, how you doing, and waved at me.

Both of them had large tumblers of rum and coke.

Fancy a drink, said Dick, and brought the glass to my lips, then dribbled it down my front, so my hairy chest was sweet and fragrant and sticky.

Where’s wee twinky Nicky tonight he asked. Jack here was fancying a foursome, wanted to get his monster up the wee blonde’s arse while he sucked off your wee cock, that’s what he told me in the taxi, is n’t that right, Jack?

Yeah, said Jack, that’s right.

Maybe I should give our favourite shop boy, that Justin, a ring. Get him over here for a sweet fuck for four?

Dick’s chest was bare now, still tanned, hair growing back healthy and flourishing, muscles being looked after and maintained. He scratched under his arms, smelled his armpits, then stuck his hand down under his belt as if he was rearranging his private parts and giving them a minor stroke.

Fuck Ryan, really pleased you texted. I thought I was gonna have to resort to exchanging handjobs on the night bus with this fat old bear – he indicated Jack.

Come on lad, let’s get on with it, then Ryan can get his beauty sleep and we can wake up tomorrow next to our lovely wives. I’d ask you to unzip me Ryan but it looks like you do not have use of your hands at the moment. Come on Jack, do the honours, and I’ll reciprocate.

The two men began to undress one another. It looked like they had done it before many times. There were pauses and an agreed order, and Dick clearly was the boss.

Fuck, you hairy beast, said Dick, as he pulled Jack’s vest over his head. You need Ryan to give you a trim.

Dick began to stroke Jack’s zip, and very soon, the length of him appeared through the cloth, the massive length of him, and the fat fucking knob outlined.

Jack was unbuckling Dick’s belt, slowly pulling down the zip, pulling out the cockhead, snug in his white briefs, sticking out now, ready.

I was watching, licking my lips. If I had free hands I would have been wanking.

Then the trousers were down and away and the socks too and the shoes somewhere – and Dick and Jack stood at the foot of the bed in their underpants.

Jack was in boxers which gave a great deal of room for his eleven incher to stand up straight and push out the cute tartan pattern.

Dick was in tightish white briefs so his cock was outlined neatly. I could see the strain in the elastic as his nine inches throbbed.

I was staining the front of my banana speedos handsfree. How embarrassing, they being so expensive.

I reckon, said Dick, we need Ryan to get these off with his teeth, what do you think Jack?

Yeah, said Jack.

They both got on the bed on either side of me and pushed their crotches against my mouth. Fuck oh Fuck. I struggled to get my hands out of the knots. I wanted to grasp those hard fuckers and wank them silly. But I had to put up with the stiff feel of them against my lips.

I tried my best to get my teeth into their waistbands and managed to pull a bit of Dick’s white briefs down, but inevitably his cock got in the way and I got a mouthful of hot cotton. I settled for sinking his knob into my mouth and doing my best sucking.

And Jack’s fly was an easy prospect. In I went with my tongue and my teeth and out popped his massive hot tool and fuck it was in my mouth and he was groaning and I was gasping and sucking and Jesus it was juicy.

Here, said Dick, it is my turn now. Get these tight fuckers off me, I want to get down your throat too.

He slipped them off down his hairy thighs and yanked Jack’s boxers down too. And I sucked them both and tried, oh I fucking tried to get them in together. But fuck I am only human.

Dick laughed.

Not to worry I am going to fuck your grateful hole now, and Jack here is gonna shoot down your throat, get those pretty tonsils of yours well and truly fucked. Yeah? You want it Ryan?

Yeah, I cried out, I want it.

Dick told Jack to wait till he was inside me so I could get a good view of his pretty face while he was fucking me.

My knees were wide apart and he pushed them wider as he clambered between my legs. His cock looked like it was bigger than ever, rigid, gleaming. He spat on it, with a very good aim and a lot of spittle, good man.

I was still in those silly speedos, he pushed the thin fabric aside and I lifted up my arse for him.

Here we go he said, no fuckin poofy foreplay for me.

Fuck I had wanted to feel his tongue in my hole, but heck, never mind, his cock would do.

Dick’s nine inches of cock slid into me. I felt myself open wide for him, inviting him in, I was so hard I thought I might just shoot right there and then, right through the fabric.

He paused for a moment.

Ooh, you’re a tight fucker Ryan. You’re clutching my cock like a virgin.

Then he began to thrust, like a horse or a bull, fast and heavy and noisy.

Get in him Jack, he shouted, fuckin get in him.

Suddenly Jack’s hairy groin was in my face, all over my mouth, my tongue was on his furry balls, and his great big dick was dribbling on my cheeks and on my chin.

You ready Ryan, whispered Jack, yeah?

Yeah, Jack, ready, I murmured. Do whatever you want.

So – he was in my mouth and pushing, I stretched my mouth till it hurt, and the juicy girth of him filled me. Then he pushed more, and I gagged, and I gagged again. No way would eleven inches of cock get down my throat, I would be dead first.

But fuck Jack tried and fuck I tried, and meanwhile Dick was pounding me and shouting out, and the tears were streaming down my bristly Saturday night cheeks.

I think I blacked out. Too much cock in me.

Then they were both out and I cried out in dismay.

No, I cried, give me it again, give me it now. Now!

Dick laughed.

We’re only changing places boy. You’re getting your favourite cocks back any second.

And I did. Dick down my throat. Jack up my arse. Both holes fucked well and truly fucked.

Somebody’s hand was on my cock, pulling it out of my speedos, and I cried out again, as much as I could with a throat filled with Dick’s dick. I needed to cum, I needed to cum hard.

I need a drink, breathed Dick, and I felt his cock pulled out of my mouth, and then I felt Jack ease himself out of my arse, and the hairy pair of them laughed, and sat down at the bottom of the bed, with their cocks stiff still and the refreshed tumblers in their hands.

Jack got me a drink too and let me drink it properly.

I licked my lips.

You both gonna double fuck me now, I asked eagerly.

Dick looked at this watch and then at Jack.

Fuck bro, that’s a big ask. Jack nearly squeezed the blood out of me the last time. Why don’t we just jerk off on your face and call it a night? Don’t be so greedy eh?

He knocked back his drink, so did Jack.

The pair of them slapped my face with their cocks, not so much slapping as thumping. Then they set off jerking. They were dripping already, sticky threads hanging down and landing on my lips and chin and beard growth. They took turns in demanding a suck from me, nothing too deep, mostly a lick and a taste of their salty pre-cum, which was flowing now.

I felt Jack’s spare fingers on my dick, considerate Jack. I was gonna cum shortly.

Oh fuck me, cried out Dick, and I was blinded.

Oh fuck me, cried out Jack, and I was submerged.

Oh fuck me, I opened my mouth to say but swallowed spunk instead. Jack’s grip was still on my cock and I was shooting.

There was a lot of shooting and a lot of spunk.

Dick was shaking his cock all over me so the last of the flood was well distributed, and Jack was just streaming down his massive column and then dripping down on to me, pooling at the top of my chest where the hair grew.

Better call that taxi, said Dick, finishing his dick shaking.

He went off to the loo.

Jack stayed beside me, gently holding my wet but now wilting prick, gently caressing me, and bobbing down to kiss me shyly.

Thanks Ryan, he said, and I had a vision of being with Jack forever and ever and having a happy time.

Come on Jack, said Dick returning from the loo, clearly having washed himself all over his chest and stomach and crotch. Clearly he was now wet with hot water not hot spunk.

He flung a wet facecloth at Jack, who used it to rub me all over, which was arousing again in itself. My cock stood up again.

Oh no you don’t you horny bastard, said Dick. Get dressed Jack, you can wipe down your fuckboytoy another time.

Dick got dressed while Jack went to wash himself. I was still spreadeagled on the bed, still tied up. Rum, coke, spunk from three sources, and a little hot water was in the mix on my tired old hairy body. The banana speedos were well-soaked now.

Those speedos will need a wash, said Dick, a wash for delicates got out my stains. Justin advised that.

Dick, I said, are you going to untie me? Nicky’s coming round early for Sunday breakfast with croissants. It could be awkward.

Dick looked at me as he buttoned up his shirt, covering up his hairy chest.

Untie you Ryan? Not sure about that bro. And anyway would n’t little Nicky prefer you to a pastry?

He zipped himself up and winked.

I had fixed myself a drink and gotten comfortable in the lounge. On the large screen in front of me, I could view multiple streams from the goings-on downstairs. All three men were trying to communicate with each other but could only manage garbled, muffled, grunts and groans. I could see both Pete and Tommy nervously eyeing the red button below Pawel. Pawel, for his part, was sweating profusely and looking increasingly uncomfortable but the two men opposite him hadn’t yet clocked why or what was coming.

Pawel pulled against the leather straps that bound him and then cried out from behind his gag as he let out a loud, involuntary, fart. Tommy grimaced in disgust, but Pete was quicker on the uptake and I watched as Pete and Pawel exchanged a meaningful look; Pete questioning with his eyes, and Pawel confirming with his own discomforted gaze.

Pawel’s face was a picture; his gastro-intestinal distress echoed in his beet-red face as he felt the slow, lazy, movement of his bowels filling. He let out another fart that drew a cry of distress from Pete. Tommy still hadn’t put two and two together, the poor lad. The muscular man’s dick still tented the fabric of his Y-fronts unmistakably even as he began huffing and puffing uncomfortably.

A few minutes passed, as did more flatulent outbursts from the pinioned muscleman, and by this point, I could clearly see the effort that Pawel was putting in to avoid crapping himself. Pawel’s breathing became laboured and his face was etched in furious concentration. A camera positioned under Pawel’s chair clearly showed the big man clenching his buttocks even as a further blast of gas escaped him. Pete was trying to encourage him to hold on, from his position opposite, just as Tommy screamed in shocked recognition of what was occurring.

For Pawel the torture was palpable. No man wants to shit himself, let alone while being watched. The knowledge, that if he couldn’t hold it, he would be dooming the two men to an unpleasant buttfucking, was killing the big brute.

I’ll admit to being massively turned on as, groaning with the exertion of trying to manage his now-urgent need to defecate, Pawel laboured on in his private hell; the two frightened men opposite him unable to look away from the sweating mountain of pained effort in front of them. Perspiration coursed down his hairy frame even as he drew inexorably closer to soiling himself and damning his friends to the most horrific of torments. 

Pawel cried out in shock as he relaxed for a second and a small knob pushed its way visibly into his underpants. Nothing much – just touching cloth, and the big man quickly clenched up again as best he could. I was pleased to note that the lump remained. He locked eyes with the men opposite him – his expression full of humiliation and pleading as he tried to explain from behind the gag,

“Ughhh… I no stop it! It comes. I shit. I very sorry!!”

Even though he tried his best to maintain his squeezed buttocks, we could all hear the crackle of his bowel movement slowly escaping and the lads watched in horror as the bulge in the seat of his underwear expanded. He shakily managed to reassert control over himself but the mound of crap hovered about half an inch above the red button of the detonator and his continuing discomfort, and the urgent need to void, was evident in his face.

Gone was the rage-filled beast of earlier. Now all that remained was a deeply humiliated man, sitting in his own filth, even as he tried to avoid letting go and emptying his overstuffed bowels into his soiled underpants. Still his cock was comically erect even as it was pulled down by the new weight in his Y-fronts. To be fair, my own cock was fiercely hard just listening to him struggle.

“Uhhhhn… I shiiiiit!!”

The bulge in the rear of Pawel’s underpants suddenly distended as he lost control and utterly crapped himself. The men opposite him screamed in horror as the big man helplessly and relentlessly pushed out the biggest dump he’d ever known. It took seconds for the expanding mass to reach the button on the detonator and then to engulf it; the bloated weight of effluent more than sufficient to activate the device.

Pawel had his eyes screwed tightly shut so it took him a second to realise that he had sealed the fate of his friends. Still, he voided, his underwear dragged low by the sheer volume of poop that kept coming; his arse crack exposed even as his balls were engulfed by the mass.

Across from him, the two dildos began their inexorable ascent towards the frightened men trapped above them. Both men were hoarse from screaming even as the tips of the invaders made contact with their spandex-clad buttholes. Unrelentingly, the dildos began to slowly penetrate the two hapless men, eliciting screams of pain even as the stretchy material was forced inside them, giving both men wedgies that crushed their cocks and balls uncomfortably. The dildo tips kept dispensing a heavy flow of lubricant in order to achieve entry and prevent the speedo fabric from causing any medical issues through chafing. Soon it was done. Tommy and Pete both wept in pain and misery as their rosebuds were stretched in ways neither had ever experienced before. Opposite the two impaled men, Pawel finally was able to cease shitting himself but the effort had taken it out of him and he slumped in shameful exhaustion, unable to meet the eyes of his penetrated friends, as his full underwear sagged and cooled.

I watched, happily, as the fucking machines commenced their slow rhythm; withdrawing just enough, but not completely, from the two helpless men and then slowly re-entering them and drawing groans and gasps from Pete and Tommy. It took both men a little while to become accustomed to the mechanical sodomy but the copious lube and monotonous regularity eventually took their toll and neither man was aware that they were groaning in time with the ingress, and subsequent near-exit of the offending toys.

Tommy was the first to realise that he was becoming erect, within his confined speedo, as his prostate took a relentless battering and the Viagra activated. He was already utterly humiliated by the fucking he was receiving but now a new sensation crept into his awareness. He was being turned on by the dildo and what it was doing to him. He looked across and could see that Pawel had noticed his growing erection and flushed crimson with embarrassment. It mattered not to Tommy that the big man was still sporting his own hard on, nor that Pawel was literally sitting in a pile of his own shit; Tommy was mortified that his body might betray him this way.

He tried to look to his left and, sure enough, Pete’s dick was unfurling within the tight yellow lycra. Pete’s groans took on a deeper tone as his own prostate was ceaselessly stimulated by the dildo. I noted Pete’s massive dick as it tented the fabric of the speedo; every vein pulsing visibly.

Within ten minutes both men were moaning in unwanted arousal and their dicks were throbbing painfully. Five minutes after that both were drenched in sweat and both had stained their speedos with leaking pre-cum. Pawel tried not to look as he heard the two men opposite him lose themselves in stimulation, both desperate for the ordeal to end but both equally frantic with the need to ejaculate.

Moments later Tommy’ eyes widened and he screamed out from behind the gag as he erupted hot jizz into the confines of the pink speedo. Wave after wave of spunk pushed through the shiny fabric and began tracing the length of the younger man’s obvious erection. Tommy’s screams were both of ecstasy and pain as his arsehole clenched around the dildo and he drooled helplessly as his body spasmed and shuddered within the leather straps. It really was something to behold.

Only a few minutes later Pete also shot his hot load into his yellow garment, screaming in ecstatic turmoil and panting like bull in heat. As the river of silver flooded his speedo and dribbled down towards his painfully compressed balls Pete slumped, exhausted, in the bondage chair.

The dildos kept up their unremitting fucking of the two sweaty men and, presently, through the volume of Viagra coursing through their veins, both men realised that they were becoming erect again. Their cries of disbelief and fear rang around the playroom even as I could see that Pawel was feeling the lurch in his gut that signalled that his own ordeal was far from over as more heavy logs began their inexorable passage through his bowels.

20 minutes later and both Pete and Tommy were thrashing in their bonds with the need to cum again. What limited movement there was in the chairs was being tested as Tommy mindlessly tried to thrust himself down onto the dildo inside him; frantic to achieve release. Next to him, Pete’s speedo was soaked in cum and the tip of his massive dick was threatening to escape the waistband. Both men screamed in elation and agony as they pumped their second load into the shiny fabric.

Coming back to exhausted reality, Tommy looked across and realised that Pawel was helplessly shitting himself again; the already burdened underpants tenting ever lower as the muscle man expelled huge logs of crap. Still erect, Pawel cried out in misery as he started to piss himself; the Y-fronts yellowing and becoming transparent enough that Pete and Tommy could see every vein clearly outlined and then soaking down to discolour the previously white fabric as hot urine mixed with the volumes of excrement now barely contained by the sagging garment. I made a mental note to find the key to the locking diaper pants. I felt I was going to need them for the big man in due course.

I went for a nap shortly after the third, exceedingly dry, orgasm hit the lads. There was no pleasure to be had this time around and they both screamed in pain as their prostates were manipulated and the Viagra continued to hold sway over their poor, sore, dicks. Both were still fiercely erect, as was Pawel although you might not notice the big man’s predicament as his cock was now pretty much submerged in his own filth and his underwear resembled a large balloon of excrement. The stench in the playroom must have been vile.

Because I knew that the bags of paste that I’d given the men had different effects, over different time periods, I only napped for half an hour. I returned to the playroom and was greeted not only by the worst set of smells but also a veritable cacophony of gagged pleading, for release, by all three men. 

Pete and Tommy were insensate in their bondage, the machines under them still relentlessly fucking their abused arses. Both men’s speedos were stained with cum and sweat and yet both still remained painfully hard and, as I met the eyes of the youngest of the trio, and glanced down at his priapic dick – highlighted in the sperm-soaked lycra – he gave me a look of such exhausted shame that I felt myself harden in the leather codpiece I’d adopted for this scene. Poor youngster. Little did he know that this was just the entrée.

Pete simply hung within his leather straps; drained by the constant milking of his prostate and the incessant punch of the dildo in and out of his virgin ring. His erect dick had finally freed the confines of the spandex and his head was, angrily, protruding from the waistband. He groaned, in discomfort, in time to the movement of the fucking machine but I suspect he had no idea he was doing it. 

Pawel had, conversely, regained his furious composure. My assumption was that in spite of the forced incontinence and the part he had to play, reluctantly, in his compatriots’ humiliation, the big guy had moved on to thoughts of revenge. His eyes burned as he watched me saunter towards the trio, even as all could clearly hear him add a farty load to his now unrecognisable underwear. When we locked gaze, and even as the crackle of his incontinence let me know he was actively pooping, he seemed to be saying – is that all you got? I smiled.

Owen:

It’s my third year of college and to save some money, I am sharing an off-campus house with five roommates, rather that living in the dorm. When Wyatt suggested this, I was skeptical. A house was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Who wouldn’t prefer a house with friends to the cramped and smelly dormitory? But Wyatt ran the numbers and broke it down for us. A three bedroom, furnished house’s rent divided by six roommates would save us all a couple hundred dollars each, per semester. That included utilities. So, yeah. I jumped at the chance.

Wyatt and I are both on the Basketball team and finding four other teammates to go in with us was easy. Wyatt was a good salesman. He should probably be a real estate agent after graduation. I’d hire him. Anyway, the problem came when Ray dropped out on us last minute. He had some family thing come up over the summer and he won’t be back at school at all this year. Wyatt’s plan for us to save money was dependent on expenses being divided six ways. Reduce six to five, and it becomes a financially unfavorable situation, to the point where guys can’t afford it. The dominoes would fall from there.

It was so late in the summer by this point that everyone else’s situation was already established. Our other teammates had set plans of their own. It was a real problem. But then I had an idea. My friend Enzo is a commuter and he shouldn’t be. He drives ninety minutes each way to save on room and board, but I could recruit him last minute if Wyatt could prepare a proposal just for him. So, that’s what we did. Wyatt made a power point presentation illustrating to Enzo that if he quit his job in his hometown, took an on-campus job in the science lab and stopped spending so much on gas, he would break even financially and gain three hours of time every day.

Enzo is an improbable dude to be our sixth housemate. Wyatt, Aiden, Cooper, Ivan and I are all on the basketball team. We are five burly, athletes all over 6’ 2” and 180 pounds. Enzo is not that. I don’t know specifics, but I’d estimate that he is 5’ 8”, 130 pounds and can probably fit both of his feet into just one of any of our giant sneakers. And he doesn’t know the other four guys at all. He and I met as freshmen in a finance and statistics class. Enzo’s major is in science and mine is English, so neither of us were math geniuses. We weren’t even through week one of classes when Enzo introduced himself and suggested that we study together a few times a week. By the time the semester was over, we both managed to pass the class and an unlikely odd couple sort of a friendship was born.

I liked hanging out with Enzo. He was different from my other friends in pretty much every way imaginable. And his car, his job and his commute made him seem so independent and cool. So adult. If we can convince him to move into our house, it would be awesome to spend more time with him. And he deserves to have the traditional college experience like the rest of us. He’s already lost so much time in his first two years.

The other guys didn’t care that Enzo wasn’t on the team (or any kind of an athlete). Besides, I would be the one to room with him anyway and the financials were back in order. It was thanks to Enzo that we were back on track. Our sixth housemate could have been a billy goat if it paid its share of the expenses.

I told the other guys all about Enzo, including that he is gay. Enzo was clear about that from the beginning. He said he’s been “out” since he was fifteen and he’s not going to start hiding who he is at age twenty. He needed to know that his five prospective jock housemates all were aware of his sexuality from the beginning and that they were cool with it. They were. We unanimously voted that Enzo was in. And “out”. He was out and he was in. He laughed at my lame joke.

But he still needed to be convinced. He said he didn’t mind being the only non jock in the house and he was already used to being the only queer person wherever he was. It was still a leap for him. A life changing moment to quit his job and move away from home. But our man Wyatt had his laptop fired up and his power point presentation loaded and Enzo got a kick out of the whole thing. He found Wyatt’s effort and enthusiasm endearing. Aside from the dollars and cents logic of the situation, it gave Enzo a sense of who these guys are. This was going to work out.

Enzo:

I wasn’t so sure when Owen first approached me with this whole housemate proposal thing. Sure, I was sick to death of the long daily commute. Yes, Owen and I had become friends over the last two years and he promised me that with six guys and three bedrooms, he would be the one to share a room with me. I wouldn’t be stuck with a stranger. It was still such a big, scary change. I insisted that he tell them all that I’m gay. That needed to be a nonissue from the start. I wasn’t surprised that none of them had a problem with it, after all, Owen didn’t when I told him the day we met. I didn’t expect his friends would be any different, but still. It was only fair for them to know too.

It was when Owen brought me to meet Wyatt that I was finally convinced. His little power point presentation was adorable. He had put some serious time and energy into creating it. He won me over from the very first slide. If the other three guys were even half as nice as Owen and Wyatt, this would all work out just fine. And it wouldn’t bother me at all that I was sharing one house with five hot jock dudes. I can compartmentalize. I need them to be my friends and roommates, not my secret crushes. No matter how gorgeous they all are.

But the brain thinks what the brain thinks. And my brain is gay. No rational thought will change that. The first time I bumped into Ivan in the hall as he came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a low-cinched towel, I lost my breath for a minute and half of the blood in my body rushed to my crotch. Fortunately, Owen is the one I share a room with. Okay, fine. If I’m honest with myself, Owen is the cutest in a house of five extremely cute guys. But the thing is, I’ve known Owen for two years now. We are established friends. I don’t even notice how cute he is anymore. Hardly. Much.

It’s all irrelevant anyway. None of them fall anywhere near the queer umbrella. Not that they’ve said, at least. I was open about myself from the beginning. None of them ran away screaming, but also none of them came out and joined me in the big gay pool. Not that I expected them too. I have “come out” to dozens (maybe hundreds) of people in these last five years, but to this day, not one person has ever “come out” to me. Maybe now that I get to be here at school all the time, that will change. I sure hope so. Aside from being a virgin, I get lonely sometimes.

But Owen really has been a good friend. That first week freshman year, he seemed completely lost in that statistics class. I pretended to be just as lost as he was as a reason to introduce myself. I suggested that we could meet up and figure it out together. He took me up on my offer and we’ve been friends ever since. I’d already had it all figured out, but I acted like it was a collaboration. It really wasn’t that he was gorgeous (which he was). I never dared to hope that he might be gay – I stopped hoping such hopes years ago – he just seemed like a nice person and I wanted to make a school friend. It worked out. And as a bonus, Owen didn’t fail statistics.

Being his friend made me more social too. I started going to the basketball games and even a few on-campus parties. When Owen and I had no classes together second semester, we still made a point of having lunch together most every day and spend time studying after. He took the lead in maintaining our friendship beyond that first semester. I wasn’t sure why. He had his team and lots of other friends. I was nothing special. But Owen kind of looks out for me and that makes me feel cared for and important.

Owen:

All of the guys took quickly to Enzo. I knew they would. He’s just a sweet guy. And being so different from the jocks we usually hang with, it’s cool. He is the one and only friend any of us has who shows up at all of our games. He’s always there, rooting us on. And it’s not just for show. He understands the game. We all get a kick out of hearing his post-game analysis in the kitchen afterwards. He gets into it and is passionate about heaping praise on each of us. He should be part of the coaching staff. The truth is that we are a mediocre team with a 500 record, but to hear Enzo talk about us, we’re headed for the championship. He’s just that guy.

On nights that we have practices, Enzo always cooks for us. He shouldn’t go to the trouble. I told him so. He does it anyway. He makes these authentic Mexican dishes that are part of his heritage and while they are sometimes initially intimidating to the guys, once we try them, we just fall in love. He should consider dropping out and going to culinary school, but that would make me sad. The first time he cooked for us, he made pozole. It was so simple and so delicious. Every one of us guys has loved and devoured every one of his creations. I’ve tried telling him that he doesn’t have to cook for us. That he owes us nothing. He assured me that he genuinely enjoys doing it, and I believe him. He’s just that guy.

It was Enzo who introduced himself to me way back that first week. I saw through his little act of subterfuge. He was not lost in that statistics class. He had it all figured out from the beginning. But for me, the struggle was real. I was clueless and afraid I would fail the class. Enzo unofficially tutored me. He got me through it. But he did it in this subtle way so that I never felt ashamed. Even though I knew what he was doing, he still managed to be humble and to help me maintain my pride. And I really did learn. I learned way more from him than from the professor. Yeah. Enzo is that guy.

He told me that very first day we met that he is gay. I was so impressed with how confident and self-aware he was. He slipped it into our conversation in a way that was so seamless and natural that neither of us was uncomfortable. He was obviously an experienced professional at “coming out” and he put me as much at ease as he was. It was that blunt honesty that got him through high school. While he was the only “out” person in his entire class, he won over enough people that the few assholes in the school chose not to bother him. We are in college now so I expect that there are way fewer assholes than there are in high school, but you never know. I’ve taken to kind of looking out for Enzo whether he needs it or not. He doesn’t know that I do that.

Enzo:

I have no choice but to live my life as a gay man because that’s who I am. I will not change. Given that, I need to be able to take care of myself and I think I’ve done an okay job of that so far. I am not a physical threat to anyone. At 5’ 8” and less pounds than I care to admit, my presence is not intimidating to most middle schoolers. But I am open, direct and confident and that seems to go a long way. Owen thinks I don’t know that he’s looking out for me, but I totally do. I should tell him not to, but I don’t. He’s just that guy. He’s sweet and he’s doing something nice for his friend. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

All of my housemates are actually good guys, but being a bunch of twenty year old boys, they sometimes do stupid things. Owen told me that a couple houses down from ours, there is a house of six stars of the baseball team. Our baseball team happens to be the regional champions, while our basketball team is middle of the road at best. For months now, there has been a lot of trash talking back and forth. Their guys flaunt their success (and their trophy) and make fun of our guys for “sucking”. Our guys point out that college baseball is nothing but a playground for losers. The best baseball players are drafted out of high school and go straight to the minor leagues. The NFL and the NBA pull their talent from the college scene. Baseball does not. The best college baseball players are nothing more than the best losers.

This has been going on back and forth for a long time. It’s all been pretty harmless. Until now. Two days ago, led by Cooper, he, Ivan and Aiden all snuck into the baseball team’s house at night and stole their trophy. Owen and Wyatt were smart enough to not only discourage it, but to stay out of it. When they found out, they both walked the trophy over to the baseball house and returned it, apologizing for their idiot teammates’ behavior.

It was idiotic, but who am I to judge? I am not in that world. Hopefully the baseball guys just accepted Owen and Wyatt’s apology and this whole little rivalry thing between the two houses can be over.

It’s Friday night and there is a basketball practice ahead of tomorrow afternoon’s game. The guys all just left and I’m alone in our house. I really do genuinely like all five of my housemates, but I do enjoy these rare moments of alone time too. I’m making enchiladas for when they get home, but the prep work is already done. All I have to do is shove two baking dishes in the oven in an hour and we’ll have a nice late night dinner when practice is over.

In the meantime I slip on my headphones, grab by chemistry book and stretch out on my stomach across the couch that is usually overloaded with too many muscly jock bruhs. I am dressed comfortably for a lazy night in. I am wearing my softest hoodie with loose sweats and my house high-tops. I have mild plantar fasciitis so I always wear shoes in the house, otherwise the hard floors would kill my heels. I own two pairs of shoes. One pair for just in the house and another for everywhere else. So, my house high-tops are on as I luxuriate on the couch. I’m more enjoying my music than reading my chemistry, but that’s fine.

The Baseball Team:

We know the basketball team is at practice. That makes this the perfect time for revenge. How dare they steal our trophy. Even though two of them brought it back and apologized, the damage had been done. We have our pride. What would it say about us as a team, as a sport, and as men to not seek payback.

What we know is that breaking in in the dark during an evening practice is way safer than in broad daylight during tomorrow afternoon’s game. Beyond that, we have not thought this through. We have no real plan. We don’t even know how to break in. Will a credit card pop a locked door open like in an old movie? Should we smash through the front window? And once we’re in, what do we take? Since they suck so bad, they have no trophies. We are clueless idiots, but we’ll have to figure something out. As we mount the front steps to the basketball house, one of us has the brilliant idea to try the door knob and we’re shocked to find it unlocked. Who are the idiots now?

We barge in, knowing the house is empty because practice just started. We’re inside for all of ten seconds before we realize why all the lights are on and the door was unlocked: the house is NOT empty. Someone is home.

There is a boy sound asleep on the couch with his face buried in a text book that has become a pillow. His eyes are peacefully closed and we can hear faint music leaking through his headphones. He doesn’t see us and he can’t hear us. He looks peaceful.

We all talk in urgent whispers:

What do we do now?

 

We leave.

 

No. The dude is out cold. He’ll never even know we were here.

 

But we don’t even know what we’re taking and now we don’t have as much time as we thought.

 

Who is this guy?

 

He’s definitely not on the team. He’s too little. He’d just get knocked around.

 

Maybe he’s the little brother of one of the guys and he’s here for a weekend visit.

 

No. He’s a student. I had him in a biology class last year. I think his name is Enzo.

 

Why’s he here?

 

No idea.

 

Well, he seems to be welcome here. We don’t know what to take, right? Maybe we just take him.

 

What do you mean?

 

We take him. They stole our trophy. Maybe this little dude is like their mascot or something. Maybe he’s important to them. Let’s take him.

 

Like, kidnapping?

 

We’re not gonna murder him and dump his body in the middle of the football field or anything. We’re just gonna borrow him. A long weekend sleepover. We’ll return him in time for his Monday classes.

 

What are we gonna do with him all weekend?

 

He won’t want to stay. We’ll have to make him stay.

 

This is sounding like a lot of work.

 

Sometimes work can be fun. He’ll be at our mercy. We can do whatever we want with him.

 

With no plan and no other obvious alternatives, the six of us nod in agreement. Enzo is about to become our playmate for the weekend. One of the guys grabs the kid’s sneaker by the toe and jiggles. Nothing happens. The way he’s lying on his stomach, there is a small patch of olive toned skin visible between the bottom of his hoodie and the waistband of his sweatpants. One of the guys pokes at the exposed tender spot with his finger. That does the trick. Enzo jumps about a foot straight up before crashing back down.

The dude is super ticklish.

 

Good. Now we know how we’ll keep him occupied and us entertained all weekend. Laughter is the key to a long and healthy life. This little guy is about to laugh his ass off for two straight days. And so are we.

 

Enzo’s eyes are open now and they bulge out when he realizes that he has uninvited company. He pulls off his headphones, surveys the six burly athletes that surround him and he says nothing.

 

You’re coming with us.

Owen:

Practice is over. None of us ever expect Enzo to cook dinner for us on practice nights, but he always does. I saw him prepping enchiladas this afternoon and right now, my stomach growls in anticipation. Wyatt and I are out of the showers before the others, sitting by our lockers getting dressed.

Wyatt scooches next to me, “You really should tell him how you feel.” He pulls on his left sock.

“What are you talking about?”

He contemplates his bare right foot, but lets it dangle in the air for a moment. “Come on, Owen. It’s me. You can talk to me. Hell, you can probably talk to any of us. I’m guessing I’m not the only one who sees what’s going on here.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Wyatt sighs, “It’s only a matter of time before someone else sees what you see, but unlike you, is brave enough to do something about it.”

“You need to stop talking in riddles.”

“Owen, you are totally in love with Enzo and it’s time you tell him.”

“He’s my best friend. Of course I love him.”

Wyatt shakes his head, “You two are much more than best friends. You’re always there for each other. Okay. Let’s try something. I want you to imagine that you are stuck in an elevator for six hours. You can pick anyone. Who do you want to be stuck in there with you?”

Enzo, of course. But I say nothing.

“You’re going on the trip of a lifetime – Paris, Rome, wherever you want. It’s an all-expenses-paid trip for two. Who do you bring?”

My mouth opens but no words come out.

He continues, “If you got bad news, who do you want to hug you? If you got great news, who do you want to hug you? Who is the first person you want to see in the morning when you wake up?”

“We share a bedroom.”

“And you’re not sick of him. Sometimes I want to punch Cooper in the face.”

I laugh. If Cooper were my roommate, I would too.

“Let’s try this. Close your eyes.”

I do as I’m told.

“Imagine It was Enzo and not Ray who left school to not return.”

I literally feel a little jab in my heart.

“Keep your eyes closed. Someone is kissing you. Whose lips are on yours? Who do you want to own those lips?”

Enzo. I swallow hard, “You think I’m suddenly in love with my best friend?”

“No. I think you’ve ben falling in love with your best friend for more than two years now. You told me about how you two met. How he introduced himself and pretended to be as lost in statistics as you were. I think you felt a flutter in your heart that very first moment and it’s been growing into something bigger ever since.”

I blink at him.

“But here’s the thing, Owen. Enzo is here at school full-time now. While you’re busy doing nothing about how you feel, someone else is going to come along, see all the things you see and fall in love with him for all the same reasons.”

“What things?”

“How he shows up at all of his best friend’s games and cheers him on. How he makes delicious food from his heart and shares it with the people closest to him. How he helped you in statistics while never making you feel ashamed. How his head lands on your shoulder when he falls asleep on the couch. How he never complains about being the only normal guy in a house full of apes. How he is always cold when it is not cold where he is. How he smiles every time you walk in the room and it makes you blush.”

I nod. It’s all true. I tell Wyatt, “I might be bisexual.”

“Maybe,” He grins. “You’re definitely Enzo-sexual. And you need to tell him. It’s probably pretty unlikely that someone else hasn’t already fallen in love with Enzo for all the same reasons you have. Hell, if I’m honest, I think I have. Basically from the first day you introduced him to me.”

“But you’re not…”

“Yes I am. I am gay. I am not as brave and confident as our friend Enzo. Maybe some of it has to do with being on the basketball team and the fear of being ‘out’ among my teammates. I don’t know. But I will tell you this. If it weren’t for the fact that Enzo is as crazy about you as you are about him, I would have confessed my secret and scooped that boy up months ago. But I didn’t because you two belong together. But that doesn’t mean that someone else won’t jump in ahead of you if you let them. Look, Owen, Enzo ‘came out’ to you the day he met you. That was more than two years ago. As much as he is in love with you, you have not made a safe space for him to tell you that, like he has for you. The ball is in your court. The move is yours to make. What queer man wouldn’t fall for Enzo? You better hurry before you miss your chance.”

Wyatt finally pulls on his right sock as the others emerge from the showers.

Enzo:

I wouldn’t go willingly, so they carried me right out the front door and onto the night darkened sidewalk. They threatened me with dire consequences if I were to scream out. Big strong hands gripped me around the ankles and wrists as we made the one minute journey three houses up the block.

My phone had been on the table next to the couch and that is where it still sits. No one will be tracking my location. All I can do is hope that my housemates notice that I’m missing and piece together the nonexistent clues and come find me. I think Owen will care about my absence. At least I hope he will. But how could he figure out what happened and where I am?

Once inside their house, they inform me that I am to be their houseguest for the weekend. They assure me that I will not be harmed in anyway, I just need to do as they say and follow their rules. It’s only Friday night and I will be held captive for pretty much the next sixty hours. That is a long time and they are bound to get bored. I am told that I will be their toy for the weekend. I am advised it will be easier on me of I don’t fight them. And if I play along, I might actually have fun.

I have no idea what any of this means. I’m about to ask when one of the six hulking guys surrounding me pokes a finger in my ribs and I flinch and giggle. I say don’t do that and he laughs. A guy on the other side of me pokes a finger into my soft side between my ribcage and my hipbone. I flinch in the other direction and yelp out a laugh. I tell them to stop, but seeing my reactions, all six of them are grinning from ear to ear. I’m starting to get the idea. I will be their plaything for the weekend. Their entertainment. Their toy. If I survive.

Two of them bend my arms behind my back and I arch toward the other four facing me. My hoodie gets pushed up and at least four hands grope around my exposed stomach. Tears spring to my eyes and I howl in agonizing laughter for what feels like twenty minutes. At some point, my hoodie is pulled off completely and I am left vulnerable and shirtless. Not by choice. I get the feeling that for the next sixty hours, nothing that happens will be my choice.

They lay me down on the floor and the six of them take stations. Two take my feet (one for each) and two take my hands. The other two flank my sides and prepare for further attacks on my stomach. They said they won’t harm me, but stretched out all exposed, weak and defenseless like this, I truly think I might die.

The two by my hands pin me down by the wrists and use their free hands to mercilessly prod, poke and drill into my armpits and my ribs. The two at my feet flip my untied high-tops right off and begin to peel off my white Nike crew socks. They give my naked feet an unnerving visual examination before they dig in with strong athletic hands. They bend my toes back and drag finger nails up and down the soles of my tender bare feet. My whole body bucks and thrashes as I howl in uncontrollable laughter. Then their fingers scratch at the area under my toes and I shriek. Meanwhile the two guys in the middle have decided that one will squeeze the shit out of my sides above the hips while the other swipes and sweeps his fingertips across my lower abdomen causing me to quiver and convulse.

I am full out screaming now. I can’t help it. The combination of the sensations of these six guys is pure torture. There are twelve strong hands gripping, holding, grabbing, squeezing, swiping, poking and prodding most of my body. Then the foot guys start something else. Teeth nibble at my toes, the balls of my feet and my arches. The teeth are followed by tongues that bathe the full length of my feet. My heart is pounding, my body is sweating and my shrieks weaken to breathy gasps. I’m on the brink of passing out.

I feel helpless and violated. My biggest fear is that to these guys, I’m not even a human being anymore. I am nothing more than their toy to use and abuse. I merely exist to be their entertainment. To them, I’m nothing more than the newest gaming counsel and their gonna play the shit out of me. This terrorizing assault has me in genuine fear and tears. Then the guy squeezing my sides decides he wants to squeeze something else. He fumbles under the waistband of my sweatpants and finds the ends of the drawstring. He begins to pull and my voice comes back. I thrash wildly and scream, “NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

Owen:

I was silent on the walk home from the fitness center. The other guys were talking and laughing about any and every thing while I stayed quiet. I was thinking about what Wyatt had said. He called me out and he was right. I’ve known about my feelings for Enzo for a long time now. I’ve tried to tamp them down, but I’ve known. And now I realize that I don’t want them tamped down. There’s no reason to. I would be proud to be Enzo’s… Boyfriend? Wyatt was right about everything. I do need to talk to Enzo. And I will. Tonight. I don’t want to be too late.

I imagine the table set and hot enchiladas ready to be served. My stomach growls again.

We enter the house, kicking off our shoes into a gigantic pile by the door and something immediately feels amiss to me. The other guys don’t notice, but I can tell. The quiet, still air in the house feels empty and wrong. I start to get frantic. I run into the kitchen and Enzo is not there. The oven is not on and the two prepared trays of enchiladas are still in the fridge. I run up the stairs to our bedroom and Enzo’s wallet and keys are on his dresser. I run back downstairs. His phone is on the table by the couch and his headphones are on the floor. My heart pounds hard in my chest.

Something is really wrong. I have to shout to get the attention of the other guys. I tell them that Enzo is missing.

Aiden says, “So? He’s a grown man. Maybe he went out for a walk.”

I shake my head, “He doesn’t go for walks alone at night.”

Cooper says, “Maybe he went home for the weekend. He probably told you and you just forgot.”

The three of them all start chattering and laughing again, but Wyatt’s eyes are on me. When I indicate Enzo’s phone on the table, his expression changes from mildly concerned to moderately alarmed. He yells at the others, “Shut up and listen to Owen. Just shut up! This is important!”

I say, “Our friend is not here, but it was not his choice to leave. He was taken away.”

Ivan frowns, “Like, he was kidnapped?”

I tell them, “Look at the pile of sneakers by the front door, What do you see?”

Aiden says, “Like always, I see six pairs of sneakers. Five pairs are around size thirteen and one pair is about a size eight. What’s the big deal, Owen?”

I say, “Come on guys. Enzo has been living with us for three months now. You know his routine as well as I do. He only has two pairs of shoes and one of them is strictly for in the house. He never wears that pair outside. What shoes are there on the floor?”

Wyatt’s eyes widen, “Those are his outside shoes.”

“So?” says Cooper.

Wyatt was right before. I do feel like punching him in the face.

I sigh, “Enzo isn’t here. I looked everywhere. But guys… His phone is here. His chemistry book is open on the couch. His wallet and keys are in our room. His car is parked out front. The wrong shoes are by the door. The enchiladas are in the fridge… Guys! Don’t you see?”

They are starting to. They’re beginning to believe me.

Aiden says, “No one goes out anywhere without their phone. Not on purpose.”

Ivan agrees, “He wouldn’t even leave his book out like this. He’s the neat freak.”

Cooper asks dumbly, “So, where is he? Who would take him.”

Wyatt gives him a shove. His brain has caught up to where mine has been for five minutes now. “It was your idea to steal that stupid trophy, you fucking moron. Now those guys stole our friend!”

Ivan cracks his knuckles, “Let’s go get him back!”

~~

We don’t really have a plan, but I guess that makes sense since we don’t know what to expect. Is Enzo on the first floor? Is he locked up in a bedroom? Is he restrained in some way? Is he alone or is he being guarded? If guarded, then by how many? Are all six of those assholes home?

We’ll have to do whatever recon we can upon arrival and take things from there.

We cautiously approach the house and we can hear muffled shouting and screaming as we get closer. We look through the first floor window. All five of us are in shock at the sight before us. Enzo is half naked and being tortured by all six of them. His face is crimson red and he is screaming bloody murder. He is in absolute agony. Tears come to my eyes and my fists clench.

Wyatt’s hand grips my shoulder, “We’re gonna save him.”

Some way, somehow, my brain kicks into action. I tell Ivan, Cooper and Aiden to go around back. This house is the same layout as ours. There is a back door in the kitchen. I tell those three to go bust it down and make as much noise as possible while doing it. Three or four of them will go see what happened and when they do, you beat the shit out of them. Meanwhile, Wyatt and I will bust through the front door and handle the ones who stay behind. We’ll grab Enzo and get the hell out of here.

It’s an admittedly rough plan, but time is of the essence. I send those three on their way just as there is an even more terrifying scream coming from inside the house. It’s Enzo screaming, “NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wyatt and I look through the window again and see that one of those six assholes is tugging on the drawstring of Enzo’s sweatpants.

We rush to the door and hope that our three idiots get in place quickly. We hear the crash we were hoping to hear and we count to three before busting through the front door. Only two baseball assholes stayed here with Enzo, still pinning him down by the wrists and ankles. Fortunately, his pants are still in proper place.

The two guys release Enzo when they see Wyatt and me standing in their living room, looking down at them. They jump up. I am vaguely aware of the sound of a fist fight coming from the kitchen, but I can’t worry too much about that right now as we have guys out here to be concerned with. Wyatt and I dance around these guys a little and start to jab at them like boxers. The one closest to me takes a big swing that I easily duck. On my way back up, I deliver an uppercut blow to his gut. It wasn’t properly centered and he doesn’t crumble to his knees. I have no idea how Wyatt is doing with his guy, but it is at this moment that I realize Enzo is no longer on the floor where we found him. As a matter of fact, I don’t see him anywhere. And then I take a blow to the chin.

Enzo:

As week as I feel from two hours of tickle torture, I know I need to help my friends. With out me, it’s five against six. I know that basketball players are better athletes than baseball players, but this is a baseball house. In addition to having an extra number, two of them went into the kitchen with bats. I saw Owen and Wyatt bust through the front door, so I can only imagine that Aiden, Cooper and Ivan are outnumbered and unarmed in the kitchen. I force myself up off the floor and grab a bat for myself from behind the couch. My friends came to my rescue. The least I can do is lend a hand and even things up.

I run into the kitchen and find that one of their guys is already on the floor, effectively neutralized. Unfortunately, two of the remaining three still have baseball bats in hand and Ivan, Cooper and Aiden look worried. My presence has not yet been noticed by anyone on either side, so I sneak attack one of the batboys with a crushing swing to the right arm. There is a crunch and the dude drops like a sack of potatoes. I am particularly pleased when I realize that he was the one who was pulling at the string of my sweatpants. I was already being violated, but that asshole was willing to  go as far as sexual assault.

The remaining five people in the room all become aware of my presence at the same time. The baseball guys are closest to me and they start to descend on me, one with a raised bat in hand. But my guys are on it. Cooper rips the bat out of batboy’s hand, casts it aside and wraps a protective arm around me while Aiden and Ivan each tackle them to the floor. A few openhanded palm strikes and they’re both down for the count with no permanent damage done.

I hear fighting coming from the other room and I run back to see what’s going on.

Owen:

It was only a glancing blow and it had little effect on me. I pop him gently in the nose and he folds like a lawn chair. I look over in Wyatt’s direction and he’s got his guy on the ropes as well. He delivers a knee to the groin and the guy is done.

I turn to see Enzo, still barefoot and bare chested, walk out of the kitchen holding a baseball bat. He is almost comically small in stature compared to the other eleven men in this house right now, but he looks like a warrior. He looks like a superhero.

I rush to him and he drops the bat. I grab him in the biggest bearhug, lifting his feet off the ground and he squeezes me back. Aiden, Cooper and Ivan all enter the room and none of them appear to be injured in any way. When I set Enzo down, Cooper picks him up again. As he squeezes Enzo, he tells Wyatt and me, “He saved our lives. We took the first guy down easily enough, but two of the three behind him had baseball bats. We had nothing. We didn’t know what to do. Then this guy snuck in and slugged a grand slam. He took down that big fucker.”

Cooper releases Enzo as Aiden hands him his sweatshirt that he found on the floor. Cooper and Ivan go to work on tracking down his shoes and socks. Within a couple minutes, Enzo is fully clothed and we are ready to leave. At the door I stop in front of Enzo and squat down, offering him a piggyback ride. I say, “I know these aren’t your outside shoes. Hop aboard.”

When we get home, we don’t have that talk. I don’t say the things I promised myself I would say. The things that Wyatt and possibly others already see. The other four guys can’t stop hooting and high fiving. Enzo is celebrated as a hero.

After a long hot shower, he finds me in our bedroom waiting for him. This is when he finally opens up and talks for real.

“I know you were the one who realized I was missing. It was you who figured out where I was. Thank you.”

I shake my head, “It only happened at all because of our stupid rivalry with those assholes. If Cooper, Aiden and Ivan hadn’t—”

He cuts me off with a sharp, “Don’t! Those three guys were not responsible. What they did was a harmless prank. Guys goofing around and having fun. Boys being boys. What they did hurt no one. It was the Baseball Guys who crossed the line.”

I take a step closer, “Are you hurt?”

He looks away, “Not physically.”

“What was there plan?”

“They knew there was a scheduled basketball practice so they came to our house seeking revenge. They didn’t know what they were going to steal, but they figured they’d know it when they saw it. They were surprised when, A- the front door was unlocked, and B- someone was home. They made the brilliant decision that I would be what they would steal. They were going to hold me captive for the weekend and set me free by Monday morning in time for classes.”

“That’s insane!”

“I had fallen asleep on the couch with headphones on so I saw and heard nothing until they woke me up. They were in the process of figuring out what they were going to do with me all weekend. Keeping watch or dealing with restraints or whatever was starting to sound like a chore, so they decided instead that I would be their entertainment. Their toy for the weekend. They woke me up by poking me and they discovered that I was ticklish. That would be the basis of their entertainment. They tortured me for two hours but that would have only been the beginning. I would have lost my sanity by Monday morning.”

“You went through hell for two hours?”

He scoffs, “They told me to just let them have their fun and to not fight it. They said that if I did that, I’d even enjoy it.” He shudders and sniffs, “Twelve hands were all over me. They violated me.”

“I am so sorry, Enzo. I should have gotten to you sooner. None of this should ever have happened.”

He looks at me, “You saved me. And you showed up sooner than I thought you would. You had practice. Once you made it home, you figured it out in record time. And really, your timing couldn’t have been better. That guy who was the biggest one? He had just gotten a new idea of how and where to tickle me. He was going to… He was starting to take my pants off!” He sobs.

I rush to him and hug him, “I know. But he didn’t.”

He hugs me back, “You were right on time.”

I spend the night on Enzo’s bed, spooned up against him. Holding him. Keeping away the demons.

Enzo:

I wake up this morning, still in Owen’s arms. He couldn’t have slept too well, spooned up against me in a bed that’s made for one. Big burly manly athletes are not supposed to be as gentle and sweet as Owen is. He’s also ridiculously gorgeous. He’s my best friend and hopefully always will be. We love each other in that bro, dude, best friend kind of a way. I’m lucky to have him.

But still… I can’t help but fantasize that there was more to it. But the fantasy is always broken by reality. Friendship is where this ship stops. It’s not fair of me to wish him to be someone he’s not.

He’s still asleep, but he unconsciously pulls me into him tighter. I melt into his warmth. His nose and lips are now on the back of my neck and when he exhales, it gives me goosebumps and it gives me another bump. And then I realize that behind me, Owen has a bump of his own!

Okay, settle down. It means nothing. Owen is a healthy twenty year old guy. Normal, healthy young men wake up with morning wood, right? It’s natural. It has no cause. There is no reason. It’s kind of a phenomenon. And right now his “phenomenon” is poking me in the back of my thigh.

He’s still asleep and he absentmindedly kisses the back of my neck. That causes my bump to become a lead pole. His “situation” might be normal morning wood but mine is the direct result of a hot guy, who just happens to be a hero who saved my life, lying in my bed pressed up against me.

I need another shower, but unlike last night, this needs to be a cold one.

~~

I’m not up for going to the game today and the guys all understand. Owen, however, refuses to leave me home alone. He calls in sick for the game. He instructs the others to tell his coach some unpleasant things involving simultaneous vomit and diarrhea.

Once the others have left, he joins me on the couch. I’m not sure that in the three months we’ve lived here that it’s ever been just the two of us in the house without some combination of the other guys. Right now, we have at least four hours alone.

Without saying a word, he picks up my left foot and places it in his lap. My house high-tops are never tied; I wear them like slippers. He slips it off and begins a gentle foot massage through my sock. He is not tickling me. It feels nice and I let my eyelids go droopy.

He eventually asks me, “This isn’t triggering or anything, is it. I should have asked. I could stop.”

I never want him to stop. Owen could never be a trigger. He might be twice my size, but he is a giant teddy bear. I smile, “This is nice.”

So he really digs in. He uses thumbs and knuckles and he goes all in on the spots that make my eyes roll back into my head. I can’t suppress some embarrassing groans of pleasure, but I don’t even care. He gradually involves my calf and plays at the top of my sock before pushing it down toward my ankle. I silently will him to take off my sock and it works. He does.

He asks, “Is this okay?”

I nod, trying not to look too eager.

He gives me gentle fingertip strokes up my arch that can only be described as loving. It’s while he’s massaging each individual toe that he clears his throat and says, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

A wave of fear rolls over me. Irrational paranoia takes over my brain. What have I done? Am I late with the rent? Am I not a good roommate? Is their old friend Ray coming back meaning I’m being kicked out? Did the guys all vote and I’m now homeless? I imagine this massage being a consolation prize. A parting gift.

He clears his throat again, “Did I ever tell you how brave you were the day we met? I mean, I know that you ‘came out’ to a hundred people before me and a hundred more since, but that’s my point. You’re brave every day. That is a bravery in life that I have yet to achieve.”

I scoff, “But you are brave. Last night you—”

He interrupts me, “Not that kind of brave. I’m talking real bravery.” He picks up my other foot and slides its sneaker off too. This foot is freshly out of its shoe prison and sensitive to his touch. I gasp and flinch a little and he smiles, “Sorry. I’ll get it broken in.” And he begins a repeat of the routine from the first foot.

I think I notice that in his lap, under the now neglected first foot, there is another bump. Hmm. Is afternoon wood a thing? Is this natural and involuntary? Not a response, but just a consequence of being a healthy young man? It must be. As he eventually works off my second sock, his situation seems to be only strengthening. I have a situation of my own that I’m attempting to conceal, but mine is very explainable. The very hot guy who I have been crushing on for over two years is touching me in an intimate way.

He’s wiggling my pinky toe between his thumb and index finger when he says, “You never struggled in statistics.”

I blush. “What?”

“You selflessly helped this guy you didn’t even know. This guy who couldn’t be more different from you in almost every way. You pretend to like basketball much more than you actually do. For me. You put up with our idiot housemates.”

“Hey, they’re good guys.”

“I know they are. But sometimes they’re still idiots.”

“Agreed.”

“You cook for us all. Enzo…”

“Yeah?”

“I—”

“I know—”

“No, you really don’t. You don’t because I haven’t told you. Because I’m not brave like you. The truth is that I am falling in love with you.”

My face flushes and my fists grip the couch cushions. “But you’re not…”

He nods, “I am. I don’t know what to call it. I guess I’m bisexual. Whatever. Wyatt calls it Enzo-sexual.”

I snort. Wyatt is awesome.

“Whatever it is, Enzo, I’m ridiculously in love with you. And this has nothing to do with what happened last night. As a matter of fact, after a reality check conversation with Wyatt, who by the way is waiting in the wings of I strike out here—”

“Um, can we avoid baseball metaphors for at least a little while?”

He laughs, “I intended to talk to you last night, but other events derailed my intentions.”

Like him shedding his Clark Kent disguise and flying to my rescue.

“The truth is, I’ve been falling in love with you over these last two years starting with that very first day.”

Owen:

He pulls his feet out of my lap and sits up straight. I’m not sure if he’s upset, disappointed or another emotion all together. He is as “out” as out can be. I have been hiding in the shadows. Is that something that he can forgive? Does it need forgiving? And just because Enzo is gay, doesn’t mean that he is interested in me. Look at him and look at me. He is a cute, regular sized – okay, slightly smaller than average sized – dude. I am a hulking ogre of a beast compared to him. Why would he be into me? More than likely, friendship is all he wants from me.

He takes my hands in his and I just know that polite rejection is forthcoming.

But what about what Wyatt said? Wyatt is a smart, observant, intuitive guy. And he’s a good friend. He would only tell me the truth and he would never hurt me. He said that Enzo is as crazy about me as I am about him. I force myself to meet his eyes.

He sighs and says, “I’ve decided I’m not gay. I’m Owen-sexual!”

His smile beams and my insides melt as a warmth spreads through my whole body.

He lunges and tackles me right there on the couch. I pretend like he has me pinned down and overpowered. Giggling, he kisses me in quick pecks that eventually slow to sensual passion. He tastes just like I imagined he would; delicious. For the first time, I realize that I did imagine what this boy would taste like. I was a clueless idiot. But not anymore. I part his lips and my tongue finds his. As I get goosebumps everywhere, I realize that I haven’t had goosebumps since I was a kid. My whole body is buzzing. His hands release my wrists, but I keep my hands above my head. He trails fingers down my arms and I giggle into his mouth as he crosses my pits. I know my erection is pressing into his leg as I feel his pressing into mine.

Enzo sits up and lifts at my shirt. I help him out and pull it off. He grins down at me with hungry eyes. I know I have an athlete’s body, but it’s not for everyone. Apparently Enzo is not disappointed. His mouth is back on mine and my hands find their way under his hoodie. His skin is covered in goosebumps too and it feels so smooth, so warm and so good. I explore his back and his ribs with my hands and his kisses begin to travel down my chin and my neck. He scoots his body lower down the couch as his lips and tongue travel southward. As he comes to my deep innie navel, his tongue takes the plunge and I see skyrockets.

He kisses all across my lower abdomen and I’m in a ticklish delight. As the kisses continue, he tugs on the waistband of my sweats and suddenly, they’re between my knees. I went commando today, so my raging hardon is standing straight up, pointing at the ceiling. He grabs my substantial manhood with both hands and I see him grin just before my eyes roll back into my head. A rivulet of precum rolls down my shaft and provides lubrication to Enzo’s talented hands. I am more turned on than I ever have been at any time in my life. I have never been with anyone sexually before this moment and I am already close to blowing my load.

Enzo senses my predicament without words and he slows things way down, drawing out my first experience. His gentle stroking is wonderful, but the immediate crisis has subsided. He explores every contour and ridge of my throbbing cock with first his hands and then his tongue. After about twenty minutes of intense attention, I’m close to climaxing again. This time, Enzo does not slow down. He grabs my ass cheeks in his hands and squeezes as he takes as much of my length in his mouth as he can. I so want to entangle my fingers in his hair and guide his warm wet mouth up and down my pulsating steel rod, but I don’t want to choke him.

He does just fine without my help. My eyes close, my back arches, my toes curl and I scream as I shoot ropes of hot cum down Enzo’s throat. He keeps on sucking until I have nothing left to give. He kisses the tip of my dick and licks at the last trail of my man seed. I am flushed and panting on the couch. Every ten seconds, my whole body racks in post orgasm reverberations.

While I recuperate and regain some strength, Enzo moves to the end of the couch and puts my giant size thirteens in his lap. He gives me a gentle massage as my body slowly becomes less jelly-like.

Enzo:

Owen demands, “Get out of that hoodie, now!”

I do as I’m told. He visually examines my naked upper body and my inclination is to cover in humility because I hardly have any muscles at all, but I don’t do that. I don’t cover because of the look on Owen’s face. The look screams of lust and love. I blush, but I allow him to take this moment.

Through a wide grin he says, “You are fucking hot!”

I blush harder.

He puts both hands on my chest and begins to gently maneuver his fingers around my ribs, my shoulders, my arms, my sides and my abdomen. It tickles a little, but not torturously so.

I giggle, “What are you doing?”

“I am conducting both a visual and a physical examination of the man I love. First, I am getting to know the unique characteristics of this exquisite body.”

I blush harder still.

“And second, I am checking for any damage those assholes may have caused.”

I sit up and hug him, “I’m okay.”

“They assaulted you.”

“Yes. But you saved me before they could…” I trail off, unable to even say the words.

He shakes his head and fights back tears, “They violated you. You are beautiful and perfect and no one gets to touch you without your permission.”

I hold his eye and nod. “Owen, you sweet, gentle, kind, huge, giant man. You always have my permission.”

He starts by kissing my flat, smooth, hairless abdomen. He circles my round innie belly button with his finger and I jolt from the sensation. Then he goes back to kissing and just for fun, he blows a raspberry. We both laugh and the seriousness recedes into the shadows. It will be a while before I am mentally whole again, but with Owen with me, I’ll get there sooner than later. The loving way he held me all night last night already has me on the road to recovery.

Last night’s attempt was thwarted when my five friends busted in the house and rushed to my rescue. Right now, no rescue is needed. All I feel from Owen is mutual respect and love. I’ve had an erection since he began my gentle foot rub almost two hours ago. My aching cock has been dying to fully stretch out and breathe some fresh air.

Owen does nothing. I’m just pointing skyward like a flagpole. I wonder if something is wrong. I look at him and his eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Dude! Your dick is fucking huge!”

I blush and swell with pride. I have no live and in person experience to compare to, but I always suspected that was the one place that my diminutive body was not so diminutive. Now I have confirmation.

He goes on, “Seriously! It’s bigger than mine. And I’m a big guy!”

“And so modest too.”

He laughs and swats my arm.

Suddenly, it’s enough with the talking. And it’s rude to talk with a mouthful. And that’s what I am. A mouthful.

Owen rotates between hands and mouth but I’m most in ecstasy when he uses both at the same time. I always hoped that someday I would get to experience physical pleasure with someone who was special to me. I never imagined that Owen – the most special person – would be that guy or that the physical pleasure could be so…pleasurable. He is bringing me to places I never knew existed.

Eventually he finds a rhythm that I know will conquer me soon if he keeps at it. His hand strokes my lower shaft while his mouth goes at the upper half. He is twisting and sucking while his tongue dances on my underside below the mushroom cap. When the fingers of his other hand fondle my balls, things escalate with urgency. He is relentless and it’s only five more minutes before I can’t hold back any longer. Just because I was willing to swallow doesn’t mean I should presume that he is too. I give him a courtesy, “Oh my God, I’m about to cum!”

He giggles once and gives me a thumbs up, but he doesn’t stop. I wrap my legs around his back and squeeze him like a boa constrictor as I pulse shot after shot down his throat. As my convulsions subside, he holds me in his mouth. Applying gentle suction and prolonging the orgasm as long as possible. I feel like I’ve melted into the couch.

This is actually real. The dream I had no right dreaming in fact came true. The guy I’ve crushed on since the day I met him was crushing on me right back. So, we spend the next hour entangled together just hugging, touching, kissing and giggling. We are two boys who know each other intellectually and are now getting to know each other physically. I could explore his body forever. As these hours wind down, I think my old crush is becoming my new love. We’ve only been a couple for a few hours but I guess we’ve been falling in love for more than two years.

When we finally rip away from each other and get dressed, we realize how close we came to an embarrassing moment as five minutes later, our five housemates all bust through the door, laughing and celebrating a win. Owen and I look at each other sheepishly then giggle, realizing what they almost walked in on.

Wyatt can tell just by looking at us. It’s not surprising. We’re both wearing dopey lovesick expressions. Or maybe it’s our flushed cheeks, our messy hair and our rumpled clothes. He grins and gives Owen a knowing thumbs up.

But then the other guys see it too. Cooper grins and points, “You guys finally got your heads out of your asses.” He play punches Owen in the arm and musses my hair.

Aiden says, “Awe… You guys! You finally figured your shit out!”

Ivan says, “I couldn’t be happier for you both.” Then he frowns. “You know, there are two perfectly fine beds up in your room. There’s no way I’m sitting on the couch again before it gets professionally steam cleaned.”

We all laugh and Owen and I turn a darker shade of red.

Wyatt winks at Owen, “The only one you managed to fool was yourself.”

Two Weeks Later

Enzo:

This time our plan is more thought out. It’s 2:00AM and the whole town is asleep. Except for the six of us. We are standing at the front door of the Baseball House and we each have a bag of evil tricks. Owen and Wyatt busted through this door two weeks ago, but it has since been repaired. It only takes Cooper a minute to jimmy the lock and we’re in. I don’t even want to know where he learned that skill. Just like ours, this house has three bedrooms and six residents. Two per bedroom. It’s tricky because it’s six on six. How do we get and keep the advantage? Getting our quarry all gagged, tied and subdued without the others hearing… The element of surprise only works once. The first time. So our plan is simple – we need to have three first times.

We enter the first bedroom we come to and split up so three of us take each bed. Three of us, one of them. The first thing we do is silence the asshole with a gag so the rest of the house doesn’t wake up. That’s how we maintain the element of surprise three times. One of us shoves a dirty sweat sock into our victim’s mouth while another quickly applies duct tape to prevent screaming or sound of any kind. While this is happening, the third of us is already tying one of the victim’s hands to a bedpost. Nylon zip ties make this a quick and easy job. At this point we are half way there. The three of us have one job done and one job to go. With one hand, two feet and three bedposts remaining, it’s easy math. The whole silent operation takes less than ninety seconds. We check on our friends at the other bed and they had as little trouble as we did. Our first two victims are both wide awake now, but helplessly immobilized and gagged.

We had determined, through some extremely unpleasant field testing, that Cooper had the worst smelling dirty sweat socks of all of us. Unsurprisingly, Cooper was proud rather than embarrassed to win that unglamorous competition. So, it’s three days of his socks that we’re using tonight as gags. Another layer of well-deserved torture.

We move to bedroom numbers two and three and repeat the process with the same efficient positive results. All six of them are now tied and gagged. We each get one guy all to ourselves to do whatever we want for however long we want. It’s Friday night after all, so we have all weekend. I had pre-selected the biggest guy. The one who decided my pants needed to come down. The one whose arm I crushed below the elbow. Because of the cast, we had to forego the zip tie and tape down his arm.

We turn on all the lights and my five friends each choose a bed. Really, they’re choosing a victim. I look inside my bag of tricks. It’s loaded with feathers and screwdrivers and dental floss and toothpicks. I choose the fork with the tines bent in different directions. His giant bare feet are primed and waiting for me. My fork meets the arch of his foot and the whole room shakes as he wildly thrashes in ticklish torture. I have hours of fun ahead of me.

He never got the chance to do what he wanted to do to me because my friends interrupted him. But he aimed to. He meant to. Intention is as guilty as action and that alone, I have decided, is a crime. Crimes are followed by punishment and on this occasion, the punishment will be set and exacted by me. No one will save him from me getting his pants down. The punishment must fit the crime. His erection will stand tall and it will be at that moment that I pull the pastry wheel out of my bag of tricks. The one that is sharp and fluted. I’m gonna carve this son of a bitch up. Even his tight gag won’t suppress all of the screaming that is in his future.

Payback is a bitch.

And closure is delightful.

Warning: this story includes depictions of physical violence that may be upsetting for some readers.

---

1.

They’d been locked in the hotel room for half the weekend.

Like many Internet relationships, the translation into meeting in person was awkward at first. After months of Tumblr chat, trading dick pics and writing smutty stories together, the two made the first stumbling efforts at a weekend together in June. 

Jon had an intense appetite for Elliot, which he didn’t fully understand. The 45-year was exactly as he’d described himself: short and pale with, in his own words, a “dad bod”. Nothing like Jon’s weightlifting husband, Bahri, who was swarthy, handsome and built. There was nothing in the description that would suggest Elliot should be the one to entice Jon to break his twenty years of monogamy, but he fired some inarticulate desire in the professor.

The moment they entered their hotel room, the typically overthinking and vacillating Jonathan shoved Elliot against the wall, kissed him with abandon and then dropped to his knees. His eagerness to get to Elliot’s cock might have been an act to seal the deal, to push things to the point of no return, before either of them could think better of the situation.

He jerked down Elliot’s pants and inhaled the odor of pubes and uncut dick. He gobbled down the fat cock like a starving man, feeling genuine satisfaction when the cockhead wedged into his throat, and he could hear the psychiatrist gasp. 

Elliot had complimented Jon’s full lips previously, so Jon made sure to put them into service now. Taking brief breaks from deep throating, Jon curiously played with the foreskin, sucking on it, getting heady from the distinct aroma he couldn’t name – sweat, flesh, sex.

Elliot stopped Jon, saying he didn’t want to get off yet.

“My first uncut dick.” said Jon, looking up from his submissive position.

“Because your husband’s Muslim,” said Elliot, smiling.

“He’s Turkish but secular. I told you. He’s culturally American.” Why did Elliot insist on misremembering this?

“How American?”

Jon had shared information with Elliot about Bahri. About his penchant for bottoming and his capacity for huge sex toys, even about his bakery, revealing more about their lives together than he ever thought he would to a virtual stranger.

“Did you come all the way from Boston to talk about my husband?”

“No, you sexy fucker. Get your clothes off.”

Jon stood up and stripped off his shirt. The 50 year old had adopted running daily and had recently begun using his husband’s weights. He felt good about his long, lean form, his flat belly and the burgeoning muscle in his chest and shoulders. Elliot had awoken something in him and he felt like a glowing ember there in their shared hotel room.

Elliot stepped up close to him and buried his face in the dark thatch of Jon’s chest hair. “Yummy.” he whispered.

2.

As a college professor, Jon had unintentionally collected a flock of young admirers in their late teens and early twenties. They were often closeted to varying degrees, and, Jon would learn, frequently had conflicted feelings about their own fathers. 

“They’re just looking for a daddy,” he’d tell Bahri, to explain their frequent emails, gifts and even phone calls. “I can manage them.”

“Your boy harem.” Bahri laughed. 

It was understood by them both that these were just lost boys Jon couldn’t help but take under his wing. He listened to their concerns and woes and encouraged them, ensuring them they had a better future. When they confessed their crushes on Jon, which they did, he had well developed techniques for letting them down gently.

“You should have been the father to a dozen sons.” Bahri once told Jon. “You’re a natural dad.”

“You never gave me any,” laughed Jon. 

He stopped short of pointing out that beyond the biological impossibility, they had not had sex for a long time. Years now. A common issue for longtime gay couples, but still an awkward topic.

Jon feigned attention to the papers he was grading, but he stole glances at Bahri’s shoulders and chest and the way he furrowed his brow. Even though he didn’t know how to act on it, after 25 years together he was still enthralled by Bahri’s physique and good looks.

They had grown older together, in some ways had become more alike. They had shared habits and routines, shared language and expressions. In other ways they couldn’t be more different. Nightly, Bahri silently studied ancient history and Jon wrote, or browsed social media and online chat forums. They gave the appearance of togetherness, while living parallel lives.

As Bahri settled back into his reading, Jon logged into Tumblr. He knew Elliot’s habits and suspected he might be on any minute.

“Hey babe.” messaged Elliot.

“Hey. What should we write about?” responded Jon.

3.

Their connection had begun through an almost chance interaction. 

While researching for a story he was working on, Jon spotted some of Elliot’s writing. His specialty was brief, brutal stories about alpha dominance, with little or no actual sex but an emphasis on physicality. Jon’s were longer, more ponderous stories in which the sex was secondary to the relationships. 

“Hey,” Jon messaged Elliot. “I saw your blog and wondered if you could give me a consult on a fight scene I’m writing.” 

Elliot was standoffish about Jon’s request, but finally offered to read a draft of what Jon had written. A week later he responded.

“The story is all wrong,” Elliot wrote. “The scenario is too complicated and the situation with the brothers isn’t credible.”

Elliot’s pushback immediately piqued Jon’s interest. 

Jon had been praised as a fine writer his entire life. Even in 5th grade, his writing was unassailable. At university he won the department writing prize every year, and by the time he was a senior, just knowing he was competing would discourage others from even trying. 

He expected to make his living as a writer, but fell for Bahri only a year after graduation, and that love quelled whatever incited his desire to write. His fiction fell by the wayside, and then it was just a memory of something he used to do. 

But in the spring of that year he’d begun writing again. 

He’d often read smutty stories on gay forums, and took a crack at one, and then another. It seemed like an easy way to re-enter writing. The standards were low, and even Jon’s lesser efforts showed off his skill. Bahri knew about it, but never read any, not even when Jon let him know when characters were modeled on him. It was an easy source for praise from readers, which fed Jon’s slim ego. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d received actual criticism for his writing, much less a sharp rebuke like Elliot’s. It was true too, he’d been lazy in his smut writing, but never expected to be called out on it. For days he nursed a vague feeling about Elliot’s response, something like blurred hurt pride, but also arousal.

Elliot wrote again. “I have some ideas about this story. What would you think of me taking a stab at an edit?”

“Go ahead.” Jon responded, and his dick stiffened. It was exciting to think of this stranger digging into his own writing.

Eliot’s edit became a revision, which became an intense collaboration. Versions flew back and forth, and they discovered a remarkably fruitful sync of their very different writing styles. Jon wrote in nuance and character, Elliot in muscular action. The resulting product was sexually charged and dense with heart, humor and excitement. It was not only better than either could have produced alone; they made each other better writers. 

“We made a baby.” Elliot messaged.

“Conceived in-scribo.” Jon responded. It was the most fun he’d had in years.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so actively engaged with another man. He loved Bahri, but their marriage had become routine and passionless. His colleagues were staid and predictable. His students were sweet but had little to offer but their naive crushes on him. Elliot, however, was an actual man, and one who didn’t care about Jon one way or the other. And that excited him.

“Are you built like the guys you write about?” Jon asked.

“Nope. Total dad bod.” Elliot responded. He then sent a validating photo. 

Jon sent a photo in return, to which Elliot responded, “Those lips! Fucking sexy bro.”

Jon lingered on the photo of his collaborator. In it he wore a sleeveless t-shirt and gym shorts, seated on a weight bench at a gym. His arms were not well developed and he had a bit of a tummy. He had a pleasant but ordinary looking face with mousey brown curly hair and beard. He reminded Jon of Richard Dreyfuss in the movie Jaws.

Jon jerked off to the photo later. 

He reasoned that it was not disloyal to Bahri to do so. They both had separately jerked off to plenty of porn over the years, with no issue, and this wasn’t so different.

Jon had never had an affair behind his husband’s back, nor even came close. He made no secret of his students’ silly crushes on him. But Bahri himself had been the one affair Jon had ever had, when he’d been with his young architect boyfriend whom he lived with for three years. 

“You’re leaving me for that – BAKER?” the architect asked with revulsion.

Jon put on an unrestrained show of regret for the architect, knowing he was in the wrong in every way. 

He didn’t explain that Bahri, the baker, was also a scholar who read history from original sources. And when the architect derided his work as a baker, Jon struggled to not envision  Bahri’s thick forearms, with their occasional burns from the baking ovens.

“I’m so sorry,” he told the architect, and he knew he should be, but inside he had no regret at all.

Twenty-five years later, he hid away a photo of Elliot in a folder on his laptop called Writing. 

4.

Jon’s job began to annoy him. Academia annoyed him. His Gender Studies in Shakespeare class annoyed him most of all. When his students expressed their neutered ideas of gender and sex, behind his expressionless face, Jon daydreamed of muscled steroid cases punching each other, and longed to get to his desk to write porn.

Before class began he’d message Elliot. “Send me a pick of your cock. I need to know there’s something outside this pussy job of mine.” 

All during class he’d long to pick up his phone to see if Elliot had yet responded.

Jon couldn’t resist sharing clues of what was going on, but discovered there’s no such thing as giving only a bit of a secret. He told his colleague Stephen about the writing exchange with Elliot, and then later how it led to greater flirtation. Every revelation opened the leak wider until more and more spilled out.

“We send each other photos,” Jon said. “You know – dicks, chests, asses. I felt like it was still not a violation of my marriage. Then I sent a video of me jerking off onto a photo of Elliot, on my tablet. He said he wanted me to send him the t-shirt I wiped it up with.”

He justified his actions to himself, thinking Bahri had his sex toys, huge dildos he used while Jon was at work. And if Bahri didn’t want Jon, why should he care if someone else did.

“Jesus, Jon,” said Stephen, “what the fuck are you doing?”

Jon had known Stephen for years. He was the only other gay professor he’d gotten to know well. They’d confided in each other a variety of work-inappropriate topics, all in good humor. Although Jon considered Stephen a classist prude in some ways, he was a talker and a listener, which provided a relief from Bahri’s taciturn ways. But he’d never before shared anything about his own sex life, there being nothing to say until now.

“This is beneath you, Jon. I’m disappointed,” said Stephen.

In that moment Jon felt Stephen fade into the periphery of his life. He told Elliot about it.

“Who is this Stephen asshole? He’s jealous. He’s in love with you.” Elliot messaged.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s not in love with me.” Jon responded. “I can manage him.”

“You’re mine. I’ll beat him up if he tries anything with you.” Elliot messaged. It made Jon feel heady to think of someone fighting for him.

The next week Stephen made a clumsy pass at Jon and grabbed his crotch. Jon pushed him away, shocked at Stephen’s intent, but more repulsed by the weak ineptitude of the attempt.

“I don’t know what got into me.” Stephen said. “Please excuse me.” 

Stephen stopped talking to him after that, outside of work matters.

“What a pussy.” thought Jon. 

That night he tried to work out with Bahri’s weights. He failed to secure one weight on the bar and it fell off, hitting Jon’s arm hard. The next day he sported a massive black bruise on his right bicep. 

He sent Elliot a photo of the bruised muscle and Elliot responded, “Hot as fuck bro.”

5.

Jon’s moods became tied to Elliot’s messages. 

“You’re a hot fucker” or “Are you hard bro?” elated him, but left him susceptible to emotional crashes later. Sometimes a back and forth about fucking each other would draw to a halt with Elliot shifting diretion to ask about a development in the story they were writing, leaving Jon unsure of his own perceptions.

Jon’s daily life outside of Elliot or their stories began to feel tinny and unreal.

Years ago Jon had been an occasional and undisciplined runner. Now he began running daily, at 6 a.m. before classes. He wanted to be more fit, in the event that he and Elliot ever got together in person. He lost the slight weight he’d put on in his forties, becoming lean again, his abs showing again like they used to. His early runs also served to increase his isolation. 

One day his Teaching Assistant Tai said, “You’ve lost so much weight. You’re going to vanish if you get any thinner.”

Jon found this prospect strangely comforting. 

Without Stephen’s company at work he spent more time chatting with Tai, and again began to reveal clues of his – whatever it was – with Elliot online. Affair by fiction?

Tai listened patiently and curiously, always interested to know more, and Jon found himself revealing more than he intended. Tai offered oddly mature counsel for a man in his twenties.

“He’s using you.” Tai said about Elliot. “He gives you enough to keep you hanging on, but there’s something fishy about him.”

“I know it seems that way,” Jon said, “but he’s just messed up. He told me about how when he was a kid his brother was physically abusive to him. He beat him up all the time, and their parents never intervened.”

“That’s why he writes those muscle revenge stories?” asked Tai.

“I guess.” answered Jon. “I mean that has to fuck you up some, right? To be beaten up by your own brother, and for your parents to let it go on?”

“Don’t let him in your head Jon, I’m just asking you to not do that. He’s like Chillingworth in the Scarlet Letter.”

“I can manage this.” Jon replied. “I know it seems dangerous, but I can manage it.”

Some weeks later Tai told Jon he needed to say something that might be problematic.

“You may have guessed already,” Tai said, “but I’ve fallen for you.”

“Oh Tai – I – I’m sorry. I didn’t know. And I’ve been talking to you this whole time about another guy. What a jackass I am.”

“No, Jon, it’s okay. I kept asking. And I know you have a husband. But something’s not okay there or you wouldn’t be fooling around with this fight story guy.” 

“Tai. I just don’t know what to say. I’m sorry to be so thoughtless.”

“It’s really okay. We’re just a lot alike. And we get along. We talk all the time. We could be good together. Really good.”

“Tai, that is so flattering. But I’m a mess. You don’t want to be with someone like me. I’m a lot older than you. I’m not even good looking, I’m not in great shape.”

“You’re more attractive than you think. I know who you are.” said Tai. How could Tai know who Jon was, when Jon himself knew less every day?

“You’re very sweet. But I could never leave Bahri. And I couldn’t be with someone so much younger. You deserve someone who will really love you and build a life with you.”

Tai nodded. “I understand. I’ll get over it. I know that. Please don’t change how we are together. You’re my friend and I don’t want that to change.”

Jon went home and swore to ignore Elliot’s next messages, at least for a while. 

Sitting together with Bahri on the sofa he re-read A Midsummer Night’s Dream in preparation for his class. He lingered on Oberon’s lines to Titania, as he wakes her from the love spell that made her infatuated with the ass-headed actor, Bottom. 

“Be as thou wast wont to be. See as thou wast wont to see…”

Students often stumbled over the language. Jon had explained countless times that it simply meant be as you used to be, see as you used to see. 

What students also missed was the power of the lines delivered by Oberon, who loves his queen even after her failings and betrayals, and who orchestrated the chaos that set the ground for their reconciliation. The repeating cycles of their immortal relationship seemed beyond the life experience of his students to grasp.

Jon imagined Bahri saying the lines to him and choked up. He turned to his husband with watery eyes. “Ask me what’s wrong.” Jon thought, “Just ask me, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Instead Bahri smiled and patted Jon’s arm and said “Everything’s okay.”

An hour later Bahri went to bed, and Jon sent Elliot a message saying “I want you in me.”

6.

That first night in the hotel Jon dropped onto his belly for Elliot to mount him. He hadn’t bottomed in years.

Elliot was nowhere near the size of Bahri’s toys – who was? – but he was big enough that Jon would feel it. But instead of mounting Jon, Elliot had him hump a pillow as if it were Bahri’s ass. 

“I want you to cum in me,” Jon pleaded, growing close to getting off from his own humping and Elliot watching. “I haven’t done anything but top for – so long.” 

“You and your rigid sex roles,” said Elliot. “I’m vers.”

“I am too,” said Jon. “But Bahri -”

“The power bottom? Tell me about him. Is he a hairy chested Muslim? Is that why he gets off on cock up his ass?”

“Fuck you,” said Jon, turning to sit up, his urge to cum subsiding. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“What would he do if he caught us?” asked Elliot, grinning.

“Beat the shit out of you, probably.”

“Really?” That seemed to arouse the psychiatrist.

“Bahri has some anger issues. He’s quiet, keeps everything to himself. Until he blows.”

“What would he do though? Punch you? Break your dick in half?” Elliot asked, stroking his hardon.

“You don’t understand Bahri at all. He would never hurt me. I don’t even know if he’d care that much about the sex.”

“What would he care about?’

“Nothing. It’s not – ” Jons hesitated, calculating the various degrees of betrayal his words and actions perpetrated. “You’re a psychiatrist. You figure it out.”

“I’m a psychiatrist. Not a psychic.” He stopped jerking off. “Tell me.”

“Psych it out,” Jon replied. “He loves me. What do you think would upset him the most?”

“That’s not fair. That’s a ‘what am I thinking’ question.”

“No it’s not. It’s about character and motivation. Seriously, how do you not get this? What do you think would bother him more than the sex?” It troubled Jon that Elliot could not see something so fundamental.

Sometimes Jon felt like Clarice Starling to Elliot’s Hannibal Lecter. Sometimes the reverse.

There was a loud rap at the hotel room door.

“Jon?” called Bahri from the hallway. He pounded again on the door. “Jon – let me in.”

7.

“FUCK,” said Jon. 

He and Elliot pulled on bathrobes. There was no point in dressing more for appearances now. 

Jon opened the door and let Bahri in. He was visibly agitated, eyes darting around, his hands bunched into fists.

It was the first time Elliot had ever seen Bahri, and he took in the sight of him. He was only 5’10” but broad and solid. He was thick in his chest and shoulders, his back slightly arched, and the sleeves of his gray t-shirt were taught around his biceps.

“Bahri, what are you doing here?” Jon asked.

“What am I doing here? What are YOU DOING HERE?” Bahri snapped in response.

It was a fair question. Jon had explained the weekend away as a work retreat in Spokane, and he had no reason to be in a hotel right there in Seattle, much less in a room with Elliot.

“Well – I guess it’s obvious what I’m doing. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

Bahri sized up Elliot, who was preternaturally calm for a man in his position. The white bathrobe he had loosely wrapped around his slight frame made him seem even more defenseless.

“Who is this FUCKER?” Bahri asked, circling Elliot like a shark. “This is the piece of shit you’re fooling around with?”

“Bahri… please,” said Jon, “can we just go talk somewhere? How the Hell did you know I was here anyway?

“Someone sent me an email,” said Bahri who now only had eyes for Elliot, his chest rising as he breathed more deeply and frequently.

“Fucking Stephen,” muttered Jon. “What a shit.” Or was it Tai?

Bahri suddenly grabbed Elliot, pulling him close by his bathrobe collar. “Do you FUCK him? Or does he FUCK YOU?”

“I’m versatile,” sneered Elliot. Without warning Bahri coiled one strong arm and sprung loose with an angry fist right in Elliot’s face, spinning his head and knocking him over a coffee table and onto the floor on his side. 

Bahri stood over Elliot, red faced and wringing his hands. He growled. “You fucker.” 

Jon ran to intervene, but Bahri just shoved him back onto the bed. “Don’t touch me,” he seethed, as if it took all his effort to speak with such restraint. “Don’t touch me now, Jon.”

Bahri reached down to grab Elliot by the collar again. He hauled the smaller man up and threw him over the hotel room sofa.

Jon put himself between his angry husband and the target of his rage, careful not to make physical contact. Bahri was so affable, except when he was like this, and then he was unpredictable.

“Bahri PLEASE – let’s go talk! I wanted to tell you, I don’t know why I didn’t -” Jon began.

“He didn’t tell you,” said Elliot, rubbing his jaw, “because he knew if he told you he’d have to stop what we were doing.” His words were slightly slurred. “And he didn’t want to stop.”

8.

“Jesus, shut the fuck UP!” Jon warned.

“He didn’t want to stop.” chuckled Elliot. 

Bahri tried to dart around his husband, but Jon blocked him, the two wary of touching each other.

Bahri looked into Jon’s face, imploring. “How could you DO this to me?”

“I don’t know. It was wrong Bahri.” Jon said, his eyes going wet. “I was just sad and lonely.”

“HOW COULD YOU BE LONELY? We’re always together!” He pounded his own chest, over his heart.

Jon sighed and looked away. “Our bodies are together. But — you never ask about me. I was crying and you never even asked why. Don’t you ever worry about me?”

“You keep everything together! You’re the most together person I know.” Bahri said, starting to soften at the sight of Jon’s grief. “Why would I worry about you?”

“Because I’m the most fucked up one of all,” muttered Jon.

The room was silent until Elliot asked, “Aren’t triangles fun?”

Bahri shoved Jon aside and was on Elliot again, slapping him hard.

Elliot reeled, his face red from the slap. He reoriented and said, “I prefer a punch. I know how to take a punch.”
 
“You’re fucking HIM?” shouted Bahri at Jon, “This piece of SHIT?” He grabbed at Elliot’s bathrobe and pulled it off, letting the psychiatrist roll out of it, naked at his feet. 

Jon couldn’t help but again note the disparity in their appearances. Elliot was naked and soft and vulnerable, and Bahri more than ever looked menacing and strong.

“Bahri,” said Jon. “Stop this. Someone’s going to call the police. Is that what you want?”

“You should fuck your husband more.” Elliot said to Bahri. “I’ll bet he takes it like a champ.”

“STOP!” shouted Jon.

As the two jerked Bahri’s emotions back and forth, Elliot agitating and Jon calming, Bahri struggled in silence. 

“What’s the worst thing I could do to Jon?” Elliot asked Bahri, propping himself up to a seated position on the floor, his dick erect. “What would really get you? If I fucked him? If he fucked me? What if I made him fall in love with me?”

Jon understood it at all, clearly and suddenly.

“You’re the one who sent the email.” Jon said, looking Elliot straight in the eye. “You set this up.”

Elliot smiled with blood between his teeth.

9.

“Bahri,” Jon said, his voice calm but resolute. “Listen to me. He’s just fucking with us. He’s fucking with us both.”

“Say more,” laughed Elliot. 

“It wasn’t Stephen or Tai who sent the message to Bahri to be here. It was you. You knew Bahri’s bakery. I told you. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Bahri’s rapid breathing eased.

“Because?” asked Elliot.

“Elliot, I don’t know. I don’t know why you do the things you do. I don’t know if you want to be beaten. Or to be rescued this time. Or to see me beaten, to see it happen to someone else. Whatever fucked up shit you still have with your brother for what he did to you when you were kids.”

“You wanted trouble,” said Elliot. “I’m trouble.”

Jon thought back to their messages, to their writing together. He’d sent photos of himself to Elliot, getting off on some stranger somewhere saying he was hot. He’d sent videos of himself jerking off, saying “I’ve become a ridiculous person.”

Jon had liked for once in his life not feeling in control. 

He should have known it couldn’t last.

“Bahri,” said Jon, taking up the old familiar reins. “He was just using me. He was mean and made me feel like shit. He hurt me.”

Bahri’s rage spiked suddenly. He grabbed Elliot by his pale, bare arms and furiously dragged him to the bathroom, which was divided by a thick glass barrier, separating the shower from the rest of the room.

Bahri threw Elliot at the glass wall, which the smaller man bounced off of with a crack, landing on the bathroom floor. Bahri dragged him again around the barrier, and turned on the shower, raining down first cold and then hot water on Elliot, and then a hail of punches. He didn’t put up a fight, not that it would have mattered.

Bahri pulled the flailing psychiatrist up by his arms, and Elliot tried to wrap around his assailant, his erection jabbing as his hips humped onto Bahri.

“What the fuck?” Bahri said in disgust. 

He spun Elliot around, pressing him hard against the glass divider. He was breathing faster, and even flat against the glass he snaked in a hand to jerk himself as Bahri held him in place. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Bahri asked Jon, now fully under the shower head himself, water running over his face. “Over me?”

Jon nodded. “No. Never over you.” 

Even distorted as it was, Jon could see something like ecstasy in Elliot’s face as he stroked himself.

“Is this how it was with your brother?” Jon asked, and Elliot quivered. “No one’s going to help you.”

“What do you want then?” asked Bahri.

“Finish him.” Jon answered, coolly. He stepped up close to the glass, face to face with Elliot. “You. Deserve. This.”

Elliot’s cock erupted against the glass, blasting it with streams of white cum.

Repulsed, Bahri let Elliot fall to the floor and kicked him. 

Elliot lay with hot water raining down on him as the last of his cum trickled out. For the first time in his ugly affair with Jon, he’d gotten off.

10.

Bahri stepped over Elliot and walked around the glass wall. His eyes were red and watering.

It was a cycle as inevitable as spring after winter, his husband’s crash when he came to himself, after the spell of his rage faded. Jon had seen it before.

Bahri fell into Jon’s arms, wet and shuddering. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Shhh,” Jon answered, soothing his husband. He kissed Bahri’s neck and cheek, and pulled  up his trembling hands to kiss his knuckles. “Let’s get you out of this.”

He peeled Bahri’s wet shirt off and then his jeans and briefs. His muscles were inflamed, and his cock erect. They’d been together since they were young men, and Bahri had never looked so magnificent, like a young bull.

Jon kissed him passionately, running his hands over Bahri’s muscles and clasping his ass, their erections pressed against each other. 

“I love you so much,” he said, between kisses. But it would take more than words now, after everything.

He turned Bahri to face the glass shower wall and ran his hands over Bahri’s broad back, down his flanks, then working his cock with one hand while he fingered his hole with the other. Bahri leaned against the glass and arched his back more than his usual posture.

Jon knew the signs.

He reached to the sink to grab the tube of pricey moisturizer and squeezed out a stream of it onto the palm of his hand, to smear on his erection. The rest he ran between Bahri’s ass cheeks and into his tight hole, using his fingers to stretch his sphincter.

Bahri spread his legs and groaned, eager to be taken.

Jon glanced down on Elliot who watched everything unfold as he entered his husband and slid into him. He knew Bahri’s sex toys, and his own cock was not a match for them in size, but there was still something about the intimacy of the act between them that got them both off.  

“Oh baby,” Jon whispered. He’d forgotten the intense heat inside his husband, like a furnace, and how the dissonance between Bahri’s hard body and soft yielding sighs struck a chord in him. 

He wrapped his hands around Bahri, kissing his tough back. “You feel so good.”

He withdrew his cock and then thrust in the full length again, feeling Bahri’s body tense, and did it again and again, picking up speed, as Elliot watched.

Bahri ground his hips back, groaning “Fuck me.” He met Jon’s thrusts with his ass as
Jon found his footing and fucked Bahri hard. His husband knew how to take a fuck, like he was made for it, for his own pleasure and giving pleasure to another man. What a miracle.

Jon locked eyes with the beaten Elliot. “You’re not trouble,” he wanted to say. “You’re a mousey nuisance. You’re an ass.”

Jon rested a hand on the glass, and with the other cupped his husband’s hard pec, which was always sure to get him off. Bahri gasped and worked his cock with the same fist he’d punched Elliot with. He groaned out loud as the fucking pushed him over the edge, forcing his hot load out of him and onto the glass wall where it ran to the floor. 

The spasms inside the cumming Bahri milked Jon’s cock, and he grasped the meaty pec harder. What put him over the edge, though, was the sight of Bahri’s cum, the proof of his husband’s pleasure that Jon gave to him.

When Jon came it was so overwhelming he could barely stand, and he rested his weight on his husband just to stay afoot. It was the most intense orgasm either could remember since their earliest days together, when they were the ones having their own affair.

The husbands washed up as if they were alone, as Eliot pulled himself up and began to tend to his wounds. They dressed, Bahri wrestling his legs into his wet jeans. He put on one of Jon’s t-shirts he’d packed for the weekend. It was two sizes too small for his frame, but would do. 

They left the hotel room, without looking back.

They entered couples counseling. Their counselor was a gay man, one found by Jon and approved by Bahri. He was just handsome enough for them both to be eager to please him and earn his praise, which seemed like it would help. It was, in its own way, another triangle.

The counselor’s focus was on gay couples and restoring intimacy. “As couples we pair, we have conflict and – if we can – we recover. Or re-pair. It’s not a failure. It’s cyclical. Let’s focus on re-pairing.” he said.

To illustrate his philosophy, he had a framed diptych of two photos of a car shop on his wall. In one, the shop’s neon sign was only partially lit, PAIR. In the second it was fully lit, REPAIR. It was cleverly done.

Jon, of course, ended any contact with Elliot. 

“I can see in retrospect I was using him to leverage some needed change.” Jon said, in counseling. “I used him to get myself in shape. To push a lot of long term problems in our marriage to a head. I know it was a terrible way to do it. But I hope we can use this opening to improve our marriage.”

Bahri didn’t comment, but they held hands and agreed they wanted to make things better.

Stephen came back around, saying he was glad whatever disaster Jon had courted was done and over with. Tai also said he was glad Jon and Bahri had dodged a bullet. “I just want what’s best for you,” Tai told Jon, full of sincerity.

The rest of the summer was full of infatuation with each other, like their earliest days together. They made love frequently. Jon kept up his running, and Bahri coached him with his weightlifting. They sometimes went on writing dates, sitting in cafes, Jon with his laptop, Bahri trying his hand at poetry, with a pen and notebook.

Sometimes Jon would look up from his screen adoringly at Bahri, scribbling down his poems, quoting Oberon in his head. “‘Now thou and I are new in amity.’”

One day, about three months after the hotel incident, Jon prepared to head out for his morning run, lacing his shoes in the dark. He looked at Bahri still sleeping, peacefully. He was so handsome. 

When Jon stepped outside there was a chill in the air. Fall was nearing again.

He opened his phone to select a playlist for his run, and spotted the Tumblr app. He’d used it rarely, since the events that summer.

He pulled up the app and Elliot’s profile. “Hey.”

He thought of how Elliot might respond, even now. “You sexy fucker.”

The phone screen illuminated Jon’s face. “What now?” 

“Write about what happened.” He heard Elliot answer in his head. “Third person. Start in the hotel room.”

So he did.

– END – 

Part Four

“Happy hump day bitch!” Jesse said, forcing his cock into my swollen sphincter with only a little spit for lube. It took a few strokes before his cock churned up some baby batter from the night before for lube. His overly sensitive teenage cock exploded in a few minutes.

Collin came in as I finished up the breakfast dishes. From the coating of dirt floating on his body hair he must have started work early. “Oh good, you two bitches are up. Get dressed and help me over in that midnight move out, it’s a fucking mess.” He looked at me, “And I got you a little outfit to wear in the bathroom.”

In the bathroom was a pair of cheap red flip flops and a women’s pink thong. I came out to a chorus of laughter from the two of them. “I can’t wear this in public.”

Collin opened the door, “You’re covered up according to California state law. Fuck, you can barely tell you got a dick at all. Let’s go.”

Walking behind my coworkers, I was half embarrassed because of my ass hanging out and half embarrassed Collin was right about my dick. With my tight little balls compressed by the thong, I looked like I had a fat pussy.

We spent the day clearing and cleaning the remnants of a tenant who moved out in the middle of the night, taking only what they could fit into their car. From the looks of the few clothes and flowery decorations, it had been a woman with questionable taste.

Jesse’s voice rang out from the bathroom, “Hey, look what I found!” He appeared in the hall holding a ten inch hot pink dildo with a set of massive tight balls at the base.

We all laughed until Collin said, “I got the perfect place to store that.” He threw me over his shoulder, pulled the thong to one side, and Jesse slid it into me until the balls rested against my taint.

Jesse placed the thong strap over the dildo and gave me a spank, pulsing the toy in my hole. “Perfect fit.”

Collin laughed as he put me down on the floor again. He continued to laugh at the look of violation remaining on my face. “Get back to work. Sit here with your mouth gaping open and somebody’s liable to put a cock in it.”

I spent the rest of the day cleaning the kitchen until it sparkled and could be called ‘move-in ready.’

When the apartment was ready for new carpet and paint we headed back to Collin’s. He noticed the angst on my face as I passed him in the doorway. “What’s wrong, that big dildo getting uncomfortable?”

“Yes sir.”

He pointed to the front of the thong, wet with my precum. “Doesn’t look like you mind it much. But tell you what, I’ll call Rick and see if there isn’t something better.”

A few hours later, I was in the bedroom, finishing making the bed, and I heard Collin let Rick in. He had on an old bowling shirt and a pair of jeans and held a red duffel bag in one hand.

Collin called for me and I was placed with my knees on two chairs that they pulled apart until my dildo filled hole was fully exposed.

“Yeah, that’s too much material for him to be walking around with.” He dug in his bag and pulled out a shiny black rubber instrument that was narrow, then wide, then narrow again with a flared base. “Think this will fit in your boy?”

“After all the dick this whore has taken lately. Should slip right in.”

Rick slid the thong over, pulled out the hot pink dildo, and pushed in the plug. At first, it stretched me, but once I was past the middle my ass sucked the rest of it in until the base sat tight against me. He snapped the thong back over the plug. “Fuck, that ass has taken a beating these last few days.” He felt the cage he’d installed and my precum dripping from it. “Looks like he’s getting used to cumming from his hole instead of his dick.”

Jesse rubbed my head. “Just like a real girl.”

“You know Collin, I was gonna wait til the end of the week, but you mind if I have another go today?”

“Fuck yeah! Have some fun with my little bro here.”

“Practically a little sis at this point,” Jesse said grabbing a soda from the fridge.

Collin patted my ass. “Go show Rick some appreciation for your new toy.”

I followed Rick into the bedroom, where he was quick to take off his shoes and pants and lay back on the bed I’d just made. “Suck my dick while I play with that ass.”

I climbed on top on my rotund friend and went to work on his cock while he played with the plug in my hole. He’d pull on it until the flared portion almost popped out of my hole and then he’d get just a little harder as he watched my ass pull it back in. Over and over he’d play this game until he unloaded in my mouth.

“Damn boy. When you leaving?”

“Bright and early Sunday morning. Gotta be at the airport at four.”

“Fuck that’s early. But don’t you worry, I’ll be back to get my plug back from you.”

I started to remake the bed and he slapped my ass as he left the room.

After dinner, Collin threw an old Harley tank top and some tiny cut off denim shorts at me. “Here’s your uniform tonight.”

“Thanks. Thong on or off?”

“Off, no sense making more work for people.”

“Where are we going?”

“The pickle park.”

“The what?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, go get that ass ready and slip that plug back in when you’re done.”

“Yes sir.”

That evening, the warm summer air moved all around us in Collin’s car as we headed to the outskirts of town. A warm invisible snake looped its way around my crotch through the big loose leg holes of the short shorts and then through the giant armholes of the tank top exposing my nipples and occasionally flicking the fabric against them giving me a cheap thrill. In the middle of all the nothingness making up central California and carved out of the corner of a huge alfalfa crop, stood an old truck stop. It had two fuel islands and a convenience store, above which were four or five motel rooms.

“Here we are,” Collin said, shifting the car into park with a clunk I felt in my ass thanks to the butt plug firmly inserted in me.

“I don’t see any pickles.”

“Don’t worry, you will soon enough. Let me go get the key from my friend Manny.”

He came back and opened my door. “Stairs are around back.” I got out in my ridiculous outfit, topped off with a pair of laced up leather boots, and followed Collin. He led me through the fuel island and around the back of the building to the stairs. Climbing the stairs the three rows of trucks idling in the gold and purple sunset suddenly came to life. Lights flashed and a few air horns pierced the rural humidity thick with the smells of diesel and alfalfa.

We got to the room at the very end of the walkway and Collin opened the door. Inside was a single king bed, ratty pressboard furniture covered with rings from sweaty drinks, and a single chair against the far wall facing the bed.

“Get those clothes off and get on your hands and knees on the bed.” I slipped out of my white-trash ensemble and got on the bed as instructed. Collin patted my ass. “Fuck, you’re gonna make a wad of cash tonight.” And then he headed towards the door. “I’m gonna leave the deadbolt out so the door will stay open. Have fun little brother.” Once the clanging of the deadbolt against the metal frame had subsided, I was left alone with my thoughts, most of which were just a longing for a cock in me.

It wouldn’t be long before my longing was quelled, and a portly thirty-something man came through the door. He had on a CAT hat, a buttoned-down shirt tucked around his belly into a loose pair of jeans. He didn’t say anything, just unzipped, yanked out my plug, pushed in a short and chubby cock and went to town. In a few minutes, his grunting became more strained until I felt him unload in me and replace the plug in my hole.

Mostly, the men throughout the evening would be similar to my first customer. I was there for them to have an alternative to masturbating. Occasionally one of them would put down an icy soda from the convenience store and their cold wedding ring would shock me a little.

Only two men stood out all evening. Which, out of twenty men, either makes the men incredibly average or me a whore, although I guess both could be true. The first man to make an impression was a skinny young black guy in his twenties who came into the room early on in the evening. He undressed completely and got into bed, positioning his long cock under my mouth. “Suck it. Get me hard. Your boy said you can take anything.”

At first I was confused as to why he thought his dick was so exceptional, that was, until I had it in my mouth for five minutes. What started out as a totally manageable dick was now in league with the widest part of the plug inside me. He pressed my head down, making me gag and spit, which made him hard and bigger, which made me gag and spit more, and so on.

Once all the veins in his dick vibrated to the rhythm of his pulse he reached around and popped out my plug. “Ride my cock.”

Nobody told me how hard it is to get a butt plug out of your own ass, the angles are all wrong. The guy became irritated by my inability to make my hole available. He pointed to a place at the side of the bed, “Get over here and bend over.”

I did and he yanked the plug out without any concern for hole. “Not get up on this dick!”

I positioned my ass over his cock and slipped my hole around it. I was surprised how easy it was to get in, but my surprise soon ended when I realized he seemed to have much more cock than I had hole.

“All the way bitch! Balls deep!” I struggled for a little until he grew tired of my whimpering and plunged his cock into a new part of my hole. “Here, I’ll do it for you bitch.” He grabbed my hips and pressed me all the way onto his cock until I felt his pubes brush against my tight little balls. He looked down at my cage and laughed. “What the fuck is that?” He flicked the metal pressing my dick inside of my body. “Fuck, you really is a girl. Work that load out of me.”

He put his hands behind his head as I rode his long thick cock. It took a while for me to find a good rhythm that worked with the length of his cock and we were interrupted two times by men waiting to get in. Soon I found myself leaned back with my back arched and my hips bouncing up and down on him as hard as I could. The head of his massive cock rubbed on my insides until I felt my cum dribbling out of the little hole of my cage.

“Fuck yeah,” he said scooping up my cum and pressing it into my mouth.

Collin opened the door and stuck his head in, “Come on, you been in there a half hour. Cum or get out.”

The skinny man flipped me over and rammed his cock into me hard and quick, taking even longer strokes than I thought possible. Soon his cum was flowing in me, somewhere near my ribcage. When he’d finished, he got dressed, replaced the plug, and apologized to the mid-fifties man waiting just outside the door as he left.

The second memorable man appeared towards the end of the night. He was a white guy in his forties with long black hair, a long beard, hair everywhere, and a round solid body. His voice had been ravaged by cigarettes and his timbre vibrated the room. He walked in wearing a well-worn Harley shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of black engineer boots. His rough hand slid over my smooth ass and down my inner thigh.

“Damn, that’s a sweet ass. Let’s see that hole.” He pulled out the plug to reveal my gaping hole drooling with cum. At first, he inserted two fingers, then three, then four, and then I felt the unmistakable lumps of all five knuckles passing through my sphincter. His hand proved bigger than my plug and the motion made me gasp. Just like the plug, my ass squeezed his hand and sucked it in until I grasped his wrist.

“Nice! How far can I go?”

The whore in me took over and gagged the common sense response. “I was told to let the men fuck me how they want.”

“Good boy.”

His hand pivoted inside me back and forth as he moved his fist farther into me. As he explored my guts with his right hand, his left unzipped his jeans and let a thick eight inches plop out.

I couldn’t help it, instinctually I let out an, “mmmmm.”

His left hand guided my head to his growing cock while his right hand continued to move within me. I sucked his amazing cock and got more and more turned on by the musk created by the sweat in his crotch and the salty taste of his precum under his foreskin. He reached around and found one of my nipples and rubbed it between his rough fingertips. He felt my orgasm as I squeezed his forearm uncontrollably.

“Fuck yeah! Wish I could make my wife cum like that.”

He withdrew his hand from me and placed me on my back. He grabbed both my nipples and used them as anchors to my body as he slipped his cock into me. The pleasure on his face from my loose hole was indescribable. Despite his best efforts, he came inside me in no time. Out of all the men he was the only one to say “thank you” as he left.

At the end of the night, Collin came in and told me to get dressed. Driving back home in the warm night air he bragged about how I’d made him a grand. I didn’t pay attention to most of what he said on that drive home, all I could think about was that dark haired man’s fist, deep inside me.

The giant man swayed his wine at the end of the table, sitting in the shadows all by himself. The club was very active, mind you, but this man that we follow has had enough encounters with almost everyone in the room to not care for their stupid blabbering. All he wanted now was to fuck someone senselessly. His dick couldn’t stay caged in the cargo shorts of his. More so, he was getting angry as the music got louder. It wasn’t even to his taste. He’d told his friend Jeremy that he didn’t want to come to this rave party but he’d assured him that he’d get to taste young pussies here. Truth be told, he didn’t even like pussies unless he was really drunk. His forte was breaking sealed arses. Devouring the virgins and living them gasping for air as he walked out on their leaking holes. He loved doing bareback. As the music changed, he was reminded of a young ladyboy he’d met at one of those underground drag race. He’d loved feeling her bitch-like structure and more so his submissive moans. At first, he had hated how womanly his screams were as he was pounding him against the sofa in the green room but then he’d started liking it more than he could admit. There was something about making your whore scream at the top of its lungs that moved something so primal in you, you couldn’t stop yourself from fucking the even after two continuous releases. 

The bitch had been limp for few minutes after the fuck and after having cum on his back one last time, he’d walked out on that wreck too. The thoughts only make him harder at present and he rubs his bulge with one hand before bringing it up. People would think him a creep. He gobbled down the drink and told the bartender to bring in some real gin.

“You don’ wanna mess wi’ me, lassen,” he pointed to the Broker’s London bottle. “Either that o’ am drinkin’ yo blood t’night.” 

“You’ll have to pay for that one, mate,” the bartender said as he cleaned a glass.

“Do I look broke t’ya, eh?” the man snarled, his fist curled tightly and the veins in his forearms popping up.

The bartender stopped and looked the man from head to toe. The man was a burly figure, likes of the lumberjacks you saw in the comics, his muscles barely breathing through the tight flannel and he was really hair. The bartender could’ve sworn the man had not even quid on him and was all but bluff but the man put his wallet on the table and gave him a dirty look. The man complied without any words after.

Once he was done for the night, not finding any arse to his liking he decided it’d be better if he just went home albeit his bladder had some different plans. He got up and walked to the washroom. Just outside the washroom, a woman of brunette hair was giving a sloppy blowjob to a young guy. The guy had a smug look on his face, as if letting him know how wanted he was. The man couldn’t believe at the indecency and walked away ignoring the both into the washroom and, behold, if outside was indecency then the inside was the blasphemous circle of the hell. Men sucking on men, women being fucked against the sink, men taking it up the arse on the floor and whatnot. He treaded carefully and opened the door to a stall, only to find a woman being held in the air and being fucked in both the holes by two men. The next stall had a mini orgy going on with a man’s face covered in cum. Finally, after praying he opened the last stall. 

There was no nudity in there, but by far it was the most interesting stall to the man. There was a guy inside sitting on the toilet seat with both feet up like a monkey and smoking cigarette. 

“People got weird kinks these days,” he muttered. “Hey, you, lad.” He had the guy’s attention. “Can I piss in here?” 

“Am sure there are other stalls, old man,” the guy mumbled with the cigg in his mouth.

“You think?” The man advanced and grabbed his the guy’s collar. “If there were, I wouldn’t be at the last stall, yeah? So you get your arse out of here.”

“Just piss on anyone man, they would absolutely love it,” he said, getting the cigg out. When the man only glared at him, he sighed and raised his arms. “Look, man, I can’t be seen. Friends in there and we had a brawl and shit. Whatever. Point being, just piss and be off.”

The man loosens his grip on his collar. “And ye will see ma piss, ye bastard?”

“Why so shy, between two men, y’know? No need to be ashamed even if it’s small.” The boy gave a sheepish smile.

The man now noticed the snarky boy’s body. He had an athletic body, muscular to fit and really attractive. Just then, he got an idea. “A’right. Step aside then.”

The guy adjusted himself to the corner and the man unbuttoned his tight jeans. As he did so, the man never broke his eye contact with the guy. The guy was also playful and pretty high for he was also not averting his gaze even as he took a hit. When the man pulled out his cock and started pissing, even then the eye contact was not broken. “You a fag or something?” the man asked at last.

The boy’s expression remained serious. “Problem if I am?”

“Lad, don’t start shit you can’t end. I askin’ you outta curiosity.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you a fag?” The lad took another hit.

“Problem if ah am?”

“It’s cool.”

The both of them fell silent while still looking at each other. The voices from outside got a little quieter as the inside of the stall held onto a conversation of its own. “I prolly won’t mind, if ya took a peek.”

“You prolly won’t even notice if I did.” The guy blew the smoke on his face.

As if it was the cue, the man went near the guy with his big cock still out. “You, slut, knew the moment ah walked in ye were looking for some rod in ya. Must get itchy in there.”

“You fucking pervert. I guess that’s what kinda guys you come across on the street? Slutty and waiting for you to put your cock in them?” The guy inched closer and pressed his bosom to his.

“What kind of bitch are you then? A bloody virgin or something?” The man took the guy’s face in his hand and started caressing the beautiful face.

“Wanna know for yourself?”

“Mad if I don’.”

The man slip a hand down the guy’s back and it automatically traversed the round arse of his. “Wanna know how it hurts?”

“No.” The guy slid his hand to the man’s junk too. “Wanna know how it pleasant you are.”

“A bouncy nerd or something, are ye?”

“Keep talking and I’ll be done with you already.”

The man attacked the guy’s lips instantly and started rubbing the round cheeks. The was little to no time wasted by the guy in stroking the man’s cock. The man already started moaning. He had decided that if this bitch was really virgin then it was not going on two legs out of this stall. 

The guy slid his other hand under the man’s flannel and felt the bulky muscles underneath, then as he moved up, the hair chest. There was hand groping from both the sides, feeling each other’s corners with for now. As the man got harder, he cock now stood between the guy’s thigh. He started moving back and forth, making the guy moan already. He brought his hand to the front and started unbuttoning the guy’s pants. He slid the barrier down and got on his knees. The guy looked down at him desperately, he took a last hit of the cigg and threw it away and help the man’s head in his hands, tangling his fingers in his hair nodding to the man. 

The man looked at the treasure before him, the monster under the grey cloth. He brought his face closer to the manhood and licked the bulge forming. Then he turned his face a little lower and pushed his face between his legs and licked at his scrotum over the cloth. The guy felt tingles due to the man’s beard and his knees already buckling with the pleasure. The man now took the bulge in his mouth and wet the underwear. Then he put a hand on the guy’s arse and digging his finger over the crack, tore the underwear away. The guy got a kick out of this and moaned a little louder. The man slapped his cheeks several times, making it go cherry red. Then he took the guy’s cock in his hand and despite it being big, the man’s hand covered it with only one hand and started stroking it painfully slow.

“Tell me you wanna come.” 

“I wanna come, yes!”

The man stroked it still slow and licked the tip like a popsicle, the some more and more while holding the shaft of his cock very tight so all the guy’s pleasure concentrated on only the pleasure at the tip and without any warning the guy grabbed the man’s head and tried to thrust cock in but the man’s grip on it prevented. The man with an amusing expression squeezed the guy’s arse roughly and sank in his nails in the skin. 

“Please, take it, please.”  The guy begged the man to take his cock and let him come in his mouth but the man got up and grabbed his throat. 

“Yer gonna be punished, bitch, fe what ye just did, yeah? Ye gonna be shagged without any pleasure of yer own, yeah? Before I was being good but ye had to pull that hit off.”

He slapped him and started licking his warm cheek. Then turned him around and clearing his throat spat on the guy’s arse though the shot was a miss but the man took the spit on the cheek and smeared it over his hole. It was way not prepared. 

“It’s not gonna get in that way,” the boy struggled to tell him.

The man had other plans though as he took out a hip flask from his back pocket and opened it with his mouth. He took a chug and then while holding the flask with his mouth sat down on the toilet seat and laid the guy on his lap. He spat on one finger and started pushing it in the tight arsehole. 

“Ye we’n’t lyin, eh? Its gonna be epic fer the both of us,” the man said putting aside the flask for now.

The guy’s expression were painful, he was trying to breathe but the close space just made him feel suffocated and the man wasn’t being really nice with finger in his arse either. He tried to remember all the ways the women he had fucked tried got used to his length, or the twinks whose cherry he’d popped but it was not even remotely helping. The man told him to relax but it was the words, he himself wasn’t going slow on him.

Once the man was satisfied about the hole, he said, “That would do.”

“You, have a huge junk, do some more, fucker.”

The man only spanked the guy and told him to shut up. “Yer in no position to tell me how to do it yeah?”

He picked up the flask and after taking in another chug, he cleared his throat loudly and spat in the flask and with a thumb on the opening mixed it real well. The boy was unaware of what the man was doing. 

“It’s gonna sting a lil, yeah?”

Without a warning in the world the man pushed the flask’s mouth in the guy’s ass and lifted his hips a little so the liquid would go in. He then pushed the the bottle’s mouth in and out without letting it slip, like it was a sex toy.

The guy felt the cold liquid inside and it make his cock twitch in excitement. He grabbed his cock and started rubbing it but the man snatched his hand away from it.

“Like I said, no pleasure for ye.” Once the man was satisfied, he took the flask away and sat the guy on his lap. “Ye don’t have a lot of weight for all that muscles, lad. When I say push, ye push, a’right?” He then sat him down on the seat and let him let out all the liquid. Once he was done the man, without waiting any more, took the guy against the door of the stall and aligned himself with the crack. It wasn’t prepped yet still, but the man wanted to hurt him anyways. So he pushed against the hole and, behold, the hole pushed back for it wasn’t letting such a junk inside. 

The man leaned on the guy’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Ye only gonna make yerself hurt more this way.”

“The guy started breathing again and then the slightest loosening and the man forced with all his might. The cock was in to the base in one go. The guy though was far from comfortable, he was screaming the punching the door, trying to push away the man.

“Fuck! Bloody hell! Off of me! Now! It hurts, you bastard!” 

The man didn’t know anymore happiness than fucking such a struggling boy. Though his cock still didn’t move smoothly inside his ass, he still tried to move with only resulted in both of them rocking back and forth. It was a sensation even better than pounding. They hips moved back and forth against the door and the guy still punched the door with every movement. 

After a few moments when the guy was hurting a little less, he struggled to pull the cock out but pull out he did to the tip without getting all out, and then dove with all his might. The guy screamed and then moaned loud. The stall made noise and a couple of laughs were heard from the outside.

“Bloody hell, mate, you’re doing some hard pounding in there,” a rough Welsh accent resounded. Following a, “The bitch must be in heaven, eh.”

The man got an idea and before implementing it though, he wanted to enjoy this together for a little longer. He pulled out and pushed slowly and the guy let out a drawn out “Ohhhhhh, nghhhhh, ahhhhh” in such a sexy manner that the man couldn’t stop himself from kissing the guy and spitting on his face. It was a once in a million moan you heard from a bitch like him. 

Then, the man pulled the guy with him and sat on the toiled seat with keeping his hands around the guy’s waist. In this position, he not only felt the soft cheeks of the guy against his thighs but also that his cock was the deepest in this position. He could feel the guy’s second hole twitching from all the stimulation. The raised the guy a little and pushed him down on his cock. The moans were unstoppable from the guy. Who would’ve have known this bitch who presented himself as such a smartarse and confident bitch could bee such a dick hungry whore. When the man had bounced him enough on his lap in the reverse cowboy, he stopped for a little rest. But, the guy had a different plan, and placed his hands on the man’s thighs and slowly, as to pull out the cock to the brink, got up. The man thought he was getting the cock out but to his surprise he sat down, devouring the cock with such a forced that the man couldn’t help but let out a victorious moan. 

“Ohhhhh! Fucker, bitch!” The man laughed against the guy’s back and caressed his head in appreciation. “T’was one motherfucker of a hit boy, you are coming home with me for this one.” 

“Ha!” the man continued, “that’s my whore!” He spanked his hips from the side again and again.

The guy again did the same movement and man enjoyed it with the same pleasure. The guy started moving with great calibration and every time he brought the cock out to the tip, he took it up with just as much force. The man couldn’t believe the amount of satisfaction he was getting. He grabbed the guy’s waist to support in the movement. Then hearing the man commenting from the outside over such a fierce fuck, he recalled his earlier plan. He told the guy to open the door then.

“Are you crazy?” The guy stopped and turned a little.

The man wasn’t hearing this bitch at all. He grabbed the guy’s curly hair and pulled his head back so that he could whisper in his ear. “You do that, or I’ll leave yer boycunt hungry fer my cock.”

The guy, with his hair still pulled back, his back making an arch, and a monstrous dick inside of him, extended his arm and opened the door of the stall. Outside, a man was leaning against the wall lightening a cigg and smiling while talking to a man in suit beside him while a young guy sucked him off. As the door opened, his eyes examined the scene. The man in suit beside stopped talking and his eyes went wide. The person he was talking to, another man in suit who was out of sight, ducked his head to look at the view. The man with cigg raised a hand and said, “Marcus, here, sir.” 

The two other man introduced themselves as Jake and Carl. The introduction given was out of pure shock. Even they didn’t why they said their name. The man inside the stall now grabbed the guy’s neck and told him to move. The guy started doing the same thing again. Cock out to the tip, some arse-wiggling and then a taking the cock in again.

Marcus, looking at the scene got hot all over again and grabbed the young guy at his feet and with his hair in his hand thrusted all of his girthy dick inside the young guy’s mouth. Tears came rolling down his face but Marcus didn’t care.

The guy in the stall was performing the action when the man stopped him and took a chug from his wine flask and said to both the man in suits, “Rate us, gentleman.”

Jake only whistled and looked down at the growing cock of the guy. “Freaky. Only if I could be down there.”

The man only motioned him towards the cock.

Carl, the other man in suit, said, “I didn’t know you were a sucker, mate.”

“Do you mind?”

“Naw man, go ahead.”

The man came into the stall and sat down on his knees looking at the tear-stricken face of the muscular guy. The man behind him lifted his hips up and grabbing the arse of the guy in place started pounding the bitch. While Jake took a hold of the guy’s fumbling cock and licked it from tip to base, taking the guy’s balls in his mouth and licking them good. 

Carl, standing outside, rubbed his cock. Getting all hot seeing his friend on his knees for a man. If he’d know he was a bitch, he would’ve fucked Jake all the time and made him his bitch. He looked at the artistic way his friend sucked off the guy.

The guy was experiencing heaven on earth being serviced from both the sides. The man thrusted deeper with every hit and slapped his arse from time to time. The guy’s moans were a dreamy drawls of sorts at this point and he was so out of his mind. Jake at his feet couldn’t believe he was having such a hot cock at his disposal. 

The man then decided for another position and pushed his cock out of the guy and forced him to stand with his feet wide apart. The guy obliged and then felt a hand force him down to bend over the cock sucking guy. The man stood up too and then aimed for the hole and pushed himself all in. The scream that reverberated throughout the washroom was unimaginable. Marcus now pulled up the boy and pushed his over Carl who held him as Marcus got down and the boy’s pants. He then started eating his arse. Carl, on the other hand, seeing the young man with so much pleasure on his face couldn’t stop himself from kissing him and kiss he did quite passionately.

As the man in the stall thrusted inside the guy, the guy’s cock was getting thrusted inside Jake. This effortless pleasure was intoxicating for the guy and his body got loose on Jake, who held him as the man behind him fucked senseless while letting out animal noises. With a last thrust that was pushed in very deeply and roughly, the man came released his massive load in the guy’s arse, which caused the guy’s legs to shake uncontrollably and his eyes roll back. The load was so much that it reeked out of his arse and rolled down his balls and onto Jake’s chin who was himself enjoying another load released by the guy in his mouth. 

I was in need of GayLeatherSex so I stopped by the Thrust party in Midtown Saturday night. Busy when I got there, with all kinds of shapes and sizes. I found a smooth, hard-muscled fireplug of a guy – the only type I’d fuck – with admirably chiseled biceps and triceps looking for action. We were a good match. I’m smooth, muscled, had on some leather gear, and my skimpy Manskinz  black thong. His cock was hard and throbbing and by way of silent introduction, I invitingly began to stroke it for him. He returned the favor, stroking my cock, until I went down on my knees to take his raging erection in my mouth. This guy’s cock was big and long, probably 8” and I sucked it and gagged on it as he forced his manhood deeper down my throat. I fellated him for quite awhile, hoping he would ejaculate into my mouth. I was hungry for his load and wanted to swallow him whole.

He had other plans. He pulled out of my mouth and took me over to the nearest available sling. I climbed in and slipped my booted feet into the sling straps lifting my ass towards the man who was about fuck me, my cock raging hard from my leather snap cock ring and ball stretcher that I love to wear while fucking. My nipples were clamped with binder clips, maximizing every sexual sensation. Smooth muscled fireplug grabbed a small bottle of lube from his boot holster and greased up my leatherman hole, fingering the gel inside me, a tease of what was to come. He then inserted his 8” of manhood inside my leather cunt, deep enough that I could feel his cock head in the narrowest part of my hole.

“Oh, fuck YEAH, leatherman…” I moaned as he began thrusting inside me. “Get deep inside me, leather daddy. I’m a GayLeatherMan and I fucking love GayLeatherSex, get the fuck deep inside me, motherfucker. You feel sooo fucking good inside me.”

A few other guys gathered around us to watch and began masturbating to the show. My anonymous gay leathersex partner pounded me like a piston in overdrive and I felt ecstasy with every thrust. I grabbed his thick muscled triceps that felt sexy and hard to bring him deeper inside me, and then grabbed on to his muscled ass to get his cock as far up my hungry cunt as I possibly could. “I fucking love it, leatherman; I love being fucked by a GayLeatherMan…” I moaned with deep, deep pleasure. It felt so fucking good to be pounded by a smooth muscled gay man in a leather club sling that I decided this is the pinnacle of what it’s like to be alive. GayLeatherSex with a sexy smooth muscled man inside me in a sling. My partner began his countdown to climactic blast-off as he fucked my gay leatherman ass faster and faster. “Yeah… yeah… YEAH!!!” And he arched his lower back and thrust his muscled chest upward as he exploded inside me, pumping every last drop of his load into my warm, welcoming tight leatherpussy. He leaned down to me in the sling while still inside me and we kissed a long, lingering post-coital kiss, our tongues entwined as the sensation of our gay sexual encounter deliciously, slowly subsided. He considerately helped get my feet unstrapped from the sling and I got down, finding my sea legs again after being pummeled with my ass wide open for the last 15 minutes.  I was still hungry, and I wanted a load to swallow and within minutes, found another smooth, chiseled taker who was forcing his penis down my throat til I gagged. I was totally up for it as I just wanted a mancum smoothie, but after a few minutes, this smooth gay man wanted to get inside me, too. We headed over to a leather settee, and he wanted to fuck me from behind but I wanted to get missionary style again so I lay on my back, still lubed up from my most recent encounter. Smooth chiseled guy entered my mancunt and I was in heat all over again. He began fucking me hard, kissing me deeply and sloppily, his 2 day beard growth slightly but sexily nuzzling around my mouth. “Where’ve you been all night?” he whispered as he enjoyed pounding me. “Having GayLeatherSex in that sling behind you,” I whispered back. “Now fuck me and cum inside me.” This triggered him to fuck me faster and harder, and he exploded inside my mancunt, kissing me hungrily with every injection of his seed. He pulled out and I felt the double dose of milky loads oozing out of my leatherman pussy. I left the drippings behind on the couch for any depraved takers to lap up.

I still needed to unload, and found a smooth bubble-assed twink whose cock I began to suck, before I led him over to a sling, spread his legs open, and got inside him. I needed to explode quickly and as I fucked him in his bubble butt, began my mantra as I’m about to cum: “Yeah, leather motherfucker, I’m a GayLeatherMan, I’m a GayLeatherMan, I’m a GayLeatherMan!” I shot my leather load deep inside him and kept fucking him until my cock was dry. Then I pulled out, cleaned up, and left the club, wondering when I’d be back again. Soon, I suspected.

Chapter F

Deep Penetration

On the morning of May 26th, Flint enters the office of Captain James.

James: Ah, Detective Flint. You are back. Reporting for duty I hope?

Flint: Yes, sir. I took your advice. Dick stuck where it needed to be, so to speak. The system cleared, and the case closed. I haven’t been more ready for proper work than in a long while. 

James: Outstanding. No need to disclose any details. Hopefully, you learned something from these last few days. We are not perfect men, sometimes we get distracted by the wrong things and trappings of the modern world, and let that blunt our efficiency.

Flint: Wise words. What do you have for me?

James: Not much. A noise complaint about a small party last evening in the Park. So go there, put some oil on troubled waters, lend an ear to some annoyed lady venting, maybe slap a rule-breaker on the wrist if appropriate, that kind of stuff. Maybe trivial but…

Flint: Even in the smallest detail there is an opportunity to serve the mission. I’m on it. 

---

Flint’s Journal, Entry, Evening May 26th

My last entry proved not to be the last one after all. Here I am, writing my thoughts and recollections in the same old Journal that has been with me for years, while under fire, HALO jumping into enemy territory, chewing dirt under a camouflage blanket doing reconnaissance, as well as in my moments of boredom and depression. 

The same Journal, but the man I was, am and is yet to become has changed. More so now than in a long time.

And yes, as odd as it may seem considering where I left off, I write as a detective in good standing under Captain James’ command. Ostensibly that is.

I will recount the regenerative events that brought me back to the station as a man.

Shortly after having written my previous journal entry, I punched in the code — 4777 — and the door to the palace unlocked. I was inside the place that no map said was supposed to be there. Yet there I was. Target penetration accomplished.

It was dark and a faint smell of wood, warm water and smoke reached my nose. I listened for signs of approaching danger. Nothing. Since I was in no immediate danger I stood still and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I felt my heartbeat — an insistent knocking on my chest. 

I advanced, methodically, carefully and ready to grapple and subdue if the man I encountered required such action. And if I encountered Nels… not even now, when I can invent some clever-sounding rationalization, am I able to describe what I had in mind would happen. I had to get my hands on him, that much was certain. What was supposed to follow was something of another realm of reasons, unknown to me at the time. I carried on regardless.

I reached a staircase leading down to the cellars. For a brief moment, I heard a moan from downstairs — that kind of irresistible happy-boy moan. Understandably, I stepped onto the stairs and followed its helical downward arc. 

The design of the place I entered was hard to classify. There was granite stone, sandstone and marble that blended with oak, rosewood and fir, shaped in ways and styles that looked traditional somehow, but not by any single tradition I knew of. But so far, no humans. Only seductive echoes of a boy feeling happy. A good and proper fuck was in progress nearby — that was an easy classification task given the sensory data.

I followed the sounds, through the meandering, dark and scented corridors. In short order, I found the lustful source. From my vantage point, hidden in the dark and behind some columns, I saw four boys, bent over and nude on a large sandstone table, and behind them four strong and naked men moving at a steady rhythm. It was the perfect rhythmic motion, careful, well-aimed, loving and forceful. 

These were asses with that perfect grip that the men took their sweet time to enjoy and exercise. And no wonder. Each boy was delicate and wonderful, fit and cocky, tough and playful. They were truly living creatures. No wonder the echoes of their joy were so enchanting.

I blame the alluring qualities of the asses on display because it took me a full minute of mouth-watering voyeurism before I realized one of the boys enjoying the deep dick-action in his shapely butt was the same Latino boy featured in Nels’ social media feed. The arc of that ass, the smooth shiny surface, its bouncy response to hard dick — so sublime — no wonder it took a while before my attention reached his face and playful curly hair. He was a fine young man, the complete package, and as predicted, he was loving it, that is, his position on the bottom. Ass that good belongs on a pedestal to be longingly admired for millennia — the Greeks were right.

Nels was not one of the other three boys, however. I knew beyond all doubt though that Nels was here. Behind any corner or door, on top of a bed or table, on his back, side or belly, a fully nude Nels would be waiting for me. I just had to find him, get my hands on him… and then do what that man is doing to Nels’ Latino boyfriend, I thought to myself and gave that ass another loving inspection.

That was when I heard footsteps further down a dimly lit corridor. Naked feet were walking on a stone floor just a few feet away. 

And then, for the briefest of moments, illuminated by a faint ray of light in the distance, I saw the back of the fully nude boy walking away from me with a gilded tray of cups in his hands, about to head up some stairs.

It has not been exhaustively documented in the forensic science literature, though it is well-known among a certain set of elite men, that every sweet and pretty piece of ass is as unique and traceable to individual humans as fingerprints or DNA. Some men require little more than milliseconds to establish that association. Although I could not enumerate what feature, curve, muscle, goose bump or hue settled the matter, I could nonetheless infer with complete certainty: that ass was Nels’ ass. The pictures and testimony of his personality, which had been my singular focus, day and night, for the last week, left no doubt in my mind about whose exquisite buttocks I saw move in the distance.

It was exactly as delicious as I knew it would be. My eyes were fixed on that ass. And even though those strong full and firm handfuls of boy’s buttocks did not part to reveal the treasure between them, that love muscle practically tugged me by dick towards it.

The least shocking confession in this Journal: I was crazy horny, I had to feel him.

Nels was too far away for me to call for his attention. So at the greatest speed I could muster without detection, I moved to the stairs he had ascended. I heard his footsteps so I rushed up.

The sudden brightness of the room I entered blinded me. I stopped to regain my composure and figure out in what direction Nels had moved.

“Detective Flint. Welcome. Please, take a seat. There is a matter to be settled.”

That voice is unforgettable. Such heft. It was of course the Sovereign. At that moment I only knew I had been caught. I looked at him fast, searching for weakness and egress — fight or flight, an almost as primordial and refined instinct as poke and stroke.

“Have no fear. Since you visited the Boy at the Round Table and peeped in the bushes at two of my men, we have followed your path, step by step. If harming you was our goal, we would not have waited this long. Be logical, take a seat,” the Sovereign said.

Along the walls of the room stood a few other men. Each man was hardened and grizzled, each of whom alone I assessed as a tough opponent in hand-to-hand combat. So I sat down in an armchair across from the Sovereign, a large oak table between us. My room to maneuver had narrowed.

“Each of you follows a circuitous and unique route to my domain. The organic forms of nature never fail to surprise despite the seeming monotony from which you men spawn. When I learnt the detective in charge of Nels’ disappearance had taken such extraordinary action in pursuit of Nels, I was prepared to be surprised. Rather than submitting the standard report, you put in honourable, strong, tangible effort to find the missing boy.”

“Where is he? I demand to interact with him. First-hand truth, no fabrications or digital smokes and mirrors. You thought those knitted sweaters would deceive me?” I replied sternly to the Sovereign’s musings.

“On the contrary. But yes, actions first, words later, are your way. Nels will give you first-hand truth,” said the man untroubled by my attempt to appear threatening. He waved his right hand slightly.

With immediate effect, a curtain moved aside, and Nels walked out in the light. His gaze was on me, his eyes more alluring than one week ago when I first saw them in those forlorn and crestfallen photographs he had shared on his social media. But unlike those photographs, Nels carried himself with a newfound confidence. A strong soul, a cocky spirit, shone through his gaze and moving muscles. 

Another distinct feature of the virile manly splendour of Nels was the total nudity. Nels the Naked — a man so much more potent than Nels the Social Critique, Nels the Pursuer of Educational Certifications, and Nels the Veiled In High Saturation Filters combined. Except for a golden chain around his neck, his body was covered by nothing. It was all firmness and perkiness and hardness in the right places.

“Go to Flint. Give him first-hand truth,” said the Sovereign and Nels obeyed and walked close to me.

I could smell Nels as he approached. Around his body was some mineral fragrance, as if he had just stepped out of the saline waters of the Mediterranean or some pristine tropical ocean. There was no doubt in my mind that had I in that moment reached out and sucked on his tender, smooth skin, it would have been just the right kind of salty. 

“Nels, I have pursued you since your disappearance. I need to know you are well, and that no foul play has taken place. Are you here by your own free will and able to leave?” I asked him. I leaned forward in my armchair, reached out and touched the side of his belly. I suppose I would have politely called it a comforting touch by an authority figure. The true reason lurking beneath the polite facade was that I needed to form a tangible connection with his naked body. He was so warm and precious.

“I have been told about your pursuit. I don’t think anyone has bothered even one-tenth as much about me as you have — at least not in the outside world. I am grateful. And that you spanked Martin silly and gave Charlie a fat dick to suck on makes me even happier,” said Nels and flexed his pelvis such that his semi-erect penis bobbed up. The boy smiled a naughty smile when that motion reflexively made me look. That little sex monster — I get the wild fuck urge here in my apartment just thinking about it!

“Are you held here against your will? In violation of the law?” I asked, doing my very best to play my role of enforcer of state and federal law.

“You forgot to ask if I am happy and purposeful because I am. I have submitted to something greater. By the laws that matter, all is well. Never have I faced as many challenges and forces that push, pull and grind against me, body and soul. And never have I been more alive and complete. I belong here… and so do you.”

At this point, Nels turned around, climbed up on the oak table and bent over. His knees were on the tabletop and wide apart, his face was down by the sturdy oak and his buttocks — those generous handfuls of power and pleasure — parted to reveal his pretty pink butthole. It was a proper butt offering.

Reflex and instinct moved my body. I stood up and my hand glided over his butt cheeks and squeezed. Nothing can make the nerve-endings of my palm tingle as much as the touch of premium boy ass, and Nels was as premium as boys come. And like the precise and necessary laws of celestial mechanics, those tingles moved with complete certainty down to my groin. So I groped and felt his flesh again, pressed my force against him.

Nels turned his head and looked up at me with an impish smile. What a cocky, spirited boy, full of the tastiest juices and that undiluted fighting attitude of the best men. I had to pound him, command him, feel him. 

I am no exhibitionist, yet oddly enough, the audience of men around us did not bother me. Instead, they made me more determined. I had to make otherworldly sex magic with this boy and make the loudest passions come true. I was determined to flex my prowess. Nels was the perfect challenge to showcase my mastery of primordial command and manhood.

I unbuckled the belt and dropped the pants fast. Considering all the varied stimuli I had been subject to in the last day and night — or, frankly, the whole previous week — I was as hard and eager for ass as the limits of the human body allow. So I felt nothing but joy as I placed my hands around Nels’ hips and pulled him close, such that his butt slapped against my dick and balls. A butt-naked boy down there is truly glorious.

He wiggled his butt. The shaft of my dick was slapped to the left and right by Nels’ amazing buttocks. Such a wonderful lively ass! It was time to dial up the force.

I leaned down and wrapped my righthand arm around his chest. I pulled him up closer to me, toyed with his nipples and pecs, and I put my mouth against his neck and sucked and licked that tender and warm skin. Yes, he was just the right kind of salty. He had been dipped in the most amazing intoxicating liquids, his flesh delicately prepared. What a considerate boy. He deserved a reward — a nice fat throbbing reward.

I normally like to give boys a bit of foreplay. Tease them a bit. See their trepidation as I slap my dick against them, make them realize what is about to penetrate them, and the tools I wield in my mission to make them happily sore and painfully tingly. In Nels’ case, I had to make an exception — I had to fuck right then and there.

And so I did. I pushed against his butt and after a few hip and butt adjustments by Nels, as the good boy he was, I was inside. That warm and tight grip grabbed hold of me and squeezed me in the best way possible. Both Nels and I had to grunt — our bodies were about to take over, run on full sweat fuck animal brain mode.

I steadied myself, gave him time to relax, and then I leaned in close and whispered.

“I got my hands on you now. You have been in my mind, teasing me senseless. I have come to collect my dues and create some true manhood action. It is not a choice. It is duty.”

“I have my ass around you. I am pretty sure I am the one who’s going to collect. So what about that manhood action… the world needs it,” Nels replied and with a side glance looked up at me with a pretty horny smirk only a cocky boy eager to be impaled on hard fat dick can bring into this world.

I licked his neck one more time, and I pushed deep inside him. Words cannot adequately capture how good it felt. It was not just a matter of tightness, firmness, warmness and smoothness, but also about spirit, soul and sound. 

A few thrusts in and out of sweet Nels were all it took — I lost control. Gone were the polite role-play and egalitarian sensibilities. I went wild. It was in my power to plow this sweet ass, spank those prime pieces of boy’s buttocks, grab and grope the chest, arms, thighs and all forms of well-honed muscles Nels was blessed with, kiss, lick and bite neck and ears of this precious boy. 

And what was in my power to claim, I claimed. No excuses. 

Within minutes of our raw animal exchange, I had this boy screaming with pleasure as the ass pounding, torso hugging, and neck licking gave him a full-body orgasm. But this was not over. I had to continue. Nels was so fine and otherworldly that he unleashed the days, weeks — years possibly — of the most potent manly urges that had built up inside me like highly flammable fuel. 

So I kept at it. It burned so good in my body. Undiluted male power and hunger rushed through my body. And affection… loads of it.

Good that the table was of a solid oak construction. From my force on top of him, Nels’ face and torso were at this point pressed into the wood. His last remaining muscle effort he put into arching his lower back and that way keeping his ass raised, ready and receiving. His sweet butt was so perfectly gripping and massaging my dick I grunted “so good boy, so good.” Not the most stirring poetry, but the truth is often simpler than we like to believe. And Nels gave me simple, yet profound, truth in abundance.

My memory is a bit hazy I admit. But after further grunts, pushes and squeezes, I felt that unmistakable tension inside me and I pushed my load from the deepest recesses of the balls into Nels. I properly stress-tested his physique with my final thrusts. And truth be told, Nels had put my muscles and stamina through the wringer. No wonder great ass has crippled many lesser men throughout history and conversely empowered the great ones.

Then I collapsed on him. The little energy I had left to move my body I used to kiss and nibble on his ears and face. So lively. So sweet. So prime.

“Be with me. Be with us,” whispered the exhausted boy.

After our heart rates had stabilized, I leaned back into the armchair. Nels snuggled up close to me. He put his face into my chest and nuzzled himself in there.

I looked around us. There was the Sovereign across the table with his steady gaze. The men standing around the room seemed awed. Several of them had visible erections poking at their pants. And a handful of undressed boys had also joined while I had plowed Nels into moaning submission. That included the Latin boy who had been posing with Nels in the photographs (Victor, I learnt later, was his name) as well as that cute Asian natural-born bottom who had enjoyed some big dick in the alcove less than an hour ago (Ken, was his name). They were smiling with such satisfaction as if my manhood had prodded their insides.

“Imagine that force doing good, far and wide. Hard work. Strict discipline. Manly creations. Great power,” said the Sovereign. Nels bit into my chest playfully. I slapped his butt. 

The plain truth is I felt elated. I was relieved as old burdens had been removed and true pleasure had been felt. I was simultaneously recharged and ready to assert myself and spring into action as new burdens were offered. There was an unspoken promise of something worthwhile and virtuous. 

I squeezed Nels’ naked body, and pushed us closer together. This boy was bursting with the most potent stuff. I liked to tickle it all from him. Command him. Do good and strong things with him, and by all means, with his handsome brothers as well.

“In the invisible cracks, in the plane unseen, my men observe, create, alter and act. Doormen and doctors and many more, the inconspicuous and steady, all in pursuit of excellence and service to the mission, even in the smallest of details. Not the grand and abstract, but the granular and tangible, where you can feel the warmth of the pumping blood.”

There was not much more said after those words by the Sovereign. I spent the rest of the evening and night at his palace. It felt like a strange homecoming. At least it was pleasurable beyond imagination — Nels and his brothers Ken and Victor were a true joy to behold and feel. Strong young men on a good path always make me happy, and not only when their sweet asses are wrapped snuggly around my dick.

Nels belonged within this palace, there was no doubt about that. Yet I felt a moment of longing. Part of me still wanted to grab the boy and ride with him on my stallion into the wilderness where I would make sweet love to him under the starry sky among the corn and wheat of the bountiful prairie.

Doctor Matthew and I spoke as well. I did not quite learn when they had become aware of my efforts, and what acts they had taken that led me to Nels butt. Doctor Matthew was an insightful man — on that, there was no doubt. He argued that I should return to the city and resume my ordinary duties at the NYPD. From there I could serve the mission, he suggested.

Maybe I will. What does that even mean? Something has changed, I can sense as much. I do not look at the world in the same way. Inside my body and soul, a dormant fire has found new fuel. Have I lost perspective? Or have I gained it? 

These high-minded meditations are momentary, though. Thoughts about Nels, naked and action-packed, are always quick to take their place. Hot boys are known to have that effect. 

In three days I am to go to the Sovereign’s palace again. Nels had been very insistent about that. He promised he was going to work out very well so he could give me even more premium ass, he said. I do not doubt him. His promise has made my dick and balls feel extra heavy all day. Good strong purposeful stuff.

THE END