Mr Clark owns me.  Simple.

I am Ben.  A 24 year old muscle himbo.  I used to be the school jock.  The muscle boy that all the girls wanted.  I don’t know if I am straight any longer.  Everything changed when Mr Clark employed me.

The change was gradual.  Slow even. But it is undeniably my true place in life and I don’t intend to ever forget my place again. My muscles are only of use working hard on display to real men.  I know my status now.  I understand my role in life.

I work full time for Mr Clark. I don’t receive a wage. My flat and food are paid for directly by Mr Clark and I receive no additional money.  I am not permitted cash.  Good boys wait to be told how to spend their time.  I have neither leisure nor needs that require money.

My flat is spartan.  The basics.  I am focused on my work for Mr Clark only.  I don’t have leisure time or options.

Mr Clark owns a small building firm. I work full time for him.  Full time means that.  Seven days a week.  As many hours as helpful to him.  In order to help him finish jobs.   Often I can be permanently working until the job is done.  I am useful in helping his profit margin.  My purpose is to serve.

If I am working a regular day I will be picked up at 6am.  I must be waiting outside so as not to keep him waiting.  It’s often cold but I always wear the same.  Tight shorts.  Boots without socks. Sleeveless t shirt with SLAVE motif.  Padlocked chain around neck.

I work silently. I don’t presume to be equal.  I  travel in the rear of his 4×4. I climb in after showing him my caged junk.  He nods in satisfaction and I will be transported to the site for instructions.

Whenever feasible I work stark naked other than my sock less boots.   Mr Clark says its better if I remember my place.  The other guys are regular men and paid well for their acceptance of my place.  They no doubt see me as a freak but they accept the benefits.  I am good to look at with my muscles on display.  I don’t speak other than to acknowledge instructions and I am used as a working urinal to them.  It makes their lives easier having a tea boy and a urinal fag.

They smirk at my tiny locked and shaved dick. They don’t understand why a young good looking boy like me would live this way.  But they are happy to take the benefits.  I love working naked on full display. It’s the way it must be.

Only Jake uses me.  With Mr Clark’s permission.  I treat him as boss when Mr Clark isn’t on site.  During breaks, Jake uses me as his seat.  I assume the position on all 4s and he sits on my naked back.  It’s natural hierarchy in action.  I don’t move or speak.  Accept my place.  And accept his used cigarette in my mouth when he’s finished.

If we are working alone Jake also uses me in other ways.  A casual fuck.  Worshipping his work boots and socks with my mouth.  Taking his spit and cum down my willing throat.  I am glad to serve him.

I can often be left working long after the other guys have finished for the day.  If a job needs completion.  They don’t need to chain my ankle as they do.  But I of course accept it humbly and get on with my work.  It’s not unusual for me to be plastering in the middle of the night, chained alone.

The manual labour keeps my muscles good for Mr Clark.  But when I am not working on site, I humbly know my place in the world.

Mr Clark lives with his husband in a smart penthouse apartment that reflects his successful lifestyle.  They live a life of luxury.

I serve them most days of the week if I am not on manual labour duty.  I walk to their apartment from work and commence my house duties.

I let myself in after stripping out of my work gear.  I then commence my work schedule.  I ensure that neither of them need anything that would distract them from their relaxation at home.   Padding around naked and collared I ensure the absolute cleanliness of every room.  I take care of their laundry and ironing.  I tidy around them.  Always silent and focused on not disturbing their leisure time.  Seen but not heard.

When commanded I can spend more personal time with them.  Footstool or foot warmer. I can spend hours in a ball on the floor with legs draped over my back. Personal urinal of course and also cock warmer before their sex.  My mouth is used post their sex also to clean away any mess.  

The house is spotless.  If there is no service required at any given point then I am on display.  I am displayed in the corner.  A small pedestal on which I pose in fixed position.  The spotlight above accentuating my muscles for their enjoyment.

I spend very little time in my flat.  When I return after manual work then domestic service it’s usually late.  I eat my fixed protein meal – bland, basic and nutritional – shower then sleep.  This is the only time of the day I am alone without protocol to follow.  I often grab my package and sigh.  Finger up my hole I gain a tiny amount of satisfaction. My tiny nub can never erect in its prison.  Mr Clark says its better I accept boys like me serve dick.  I don’t need a cock myself as it would distract me from service.  I know I must sacrifice and forget my selfish needs.  I haven’t cum for over 2 years now.  In the company of any man I must adopt an attitude that I don’t have a dick.  My tiny button and blue balls are to be completely ignored.

However I also accept I can be used.

It’s not unusual for one of Mr Clark’s clients or for Jake to turn up.  And my role as sex toy begins.  A smiling, silent and muscular himbo working hard in the knowledge that he only exists to please his superiors.

A Perfect Year

With thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don Black, and Christopher Hampton.

It’s New Year’s Eve and hopes are high

Dance one year in, kiss one goodbye

Another chance, another start

So many dreams to tease the heart

We don’t need a crowded ballroom everything we need is here

And face to face we will embrace

The perfect year.

——————————————————

Our coming perfect year (one among many since I met my husband Kent) began in Hawai’i as the natives write it; Honolulu to be precise.  And it was four of us fucking in the new year; the dance was the oldest of them all.  Our spirits were high as we fell asleep stinking, sore, exhausted and satisfied; high on post-climactic endorphins.

Kent and I have spent four weeks in Hawaii courtesy of wealthy friends who spend the holidays in St. Barts and lent us their luxury condo on Waikiki Beach.  Our Aussie stud Daniel who recently became our third joined us for the last nine days that he could take off work; he arrived on Christmas eve.  The fourth was what Daniel calls a “rando” and is a waiter we met at Christmas eve dinner; a studly bruiser of a young Scot named Harris who served us even better naked in our bed.

Kent and I awoke early into New Year’s day to the pleasantly stale stench of men; several rounds of man-on-man sex the night before, four men’s sweat, and many loads of cum blown by each.  Indeed it was a great start to any day and particularly to bring in 2025.

Harris our thick-accented waiter dwarfed even my very tall husband and our tall third; at an admitted six foot eight he seemed taller still and had broad shoulders and huge slab pecs, tree-trunk thighs, arms the thickness of my legs, and a veritable pelt of soft but wiry ginger hair.   We each fucked Harris; his nearly thirty years had given him considerable practice and he maximized loads of stamina.  He’d also fucked Daniel and me each within an inch of our lives; an enthusiastically robust manic fuck for each of us.  All of the memories of the night before flooded into my waking consciousness along with the heavy atmosphere of male debauchery which lingered in the miasma.  I inhaled deeply again and smiled.

Harris was asleep half on me with my arm wrapped around him and his stubbly face heavy on my left pec.  Daniel was wrapped around Kent who was wrapped around the waiter.  Kent grimaced playfully and gestured to his complicated extraction route as I disengaged gently and stood by the side of the bed.  I laughed quietly; grateful for these to be the problems we have in our life.  I stretched my taut body; my morning hard-on swung in arcs and Kent made obscene gestures with his tongue.  

I left my husband to extricate himself from the masculine entanglement in our bed and headed into the sumptuous master bathroom.  My dick was hard as a pipe but it was a pee hard-on; quickly it was becoming critical.  As I got to the toilet I stood and let about a gallon flow out of me.  Kent arrived and wrapped his muscular hairy arms around me from behind and pressed his own hard-on into my crack.  “Is it the toilet or me that your heat-seeking missile is targeting?”

Kent kissed my neck in the place that turns me to mush; I had a firm hold on my deflating boner and felt that softening reverse.  “I love how we enjoy Daniel and have enjoyed that Scottish hulk of beef; but my dick craves some alone time with my husband too,” he growled into the back of my ear as he slid his hard-on in the crack of my rear.

The already-slimy state of my hole after last night’s vigorous use by our guest the Scot was now twice as gooey by the time my stream petered out.  I bent and pulled Kent with me as he didn’t let go and I braced my hands on the tank and pushed my hole onto him.  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck that’s the best,” I moaned.  “Always the best,” I moaned as I situated myself onto his nearly-nine inches of thick veiny man-flesh.

“God yes!” Kent growled and began to pump me with his over-sized sex-pole.

Soooooo deep and so perfect to fill and stretch my most intimate channel to its limit.

The commode closet at our friends’ condo where we were staying had a pocket door.  Balancing with my right hand on the tank I felt around with my left until I got the pull and managed to get the door closed about the time the force of my husband’s thrusts had me grunting loud with each slam of his bush into my butt-crack.  I couldn’t help it; I never could.  The way Kent fucks with brutal force but also with hip gyrations that accentuate the stimulation all through my pleasure tract make it impossible to not get lost in the sensations; his sucking and biting on my neck was just kerosene on the already raging blaze.

I was rock hard and aching; my balls were buzzing with arousal and painfully in need of release.  Kent knows what I need; and he knows how to blow my mind giving it to me.

With a change in thrust angle and an increase in leverage with his hands moved to a tight grip on my shoulders he was VERY focused and on-target.  His thrusts alternately knocked, rubbed, and nuzzled my prostate until it took his strong grip on my shoulders, mine on the toilet tank, and firmly planting my feet to keep myself from  toppling as he drilled me like only he knows how to do.

My moans and pleas were incoherent; my senses were overwhelmed with pre-ecstasy and in pursuit of the full state.  My chute was clenching involuntarily and milking him primally; his seed was what the full state of my being at that moment craved.  And just as he fucked me over the edge and I wailed, “OH FUCK YEAH!  FILL ME WITH YOUR LOAD STUD!” two things happened.

First I clenched around him so tight that he grunted in frustration for the extra effort it took to maintain the force and cadence of this thrusts.  I felt him thicken and harden in response; the former stretching me in the familiar way that for a moment seems it might damage my tight tunnel of love muscles.  “Fuck babe I’m gonna!  Gonna fill you full of me and knock you up!”  I’m not a particular devoté  of m-preg kink but in the throes of bottoming a top telling you he’s going to knock you up is the ultimate in stimulation; at least until his ejaculations start.  If it’s the man you love magnify that ultimate to galactic proportions; I NEEDed every drop of his seed IN me.

Second and right before Kent growled his intent into the echoing toilet space the door slid back swiftly and two men’s voices of vastly different pitches expressed their appreciation.  “Oy mate!  I told ya they’d be banging like the hot fuckers in heat they are!” was our Daniel’s Aussie drawl.  “Aye that’s the way to bang that fine ass!” was our guest Harris’s rumbling Scottish brogue.

And it wasn’t a moment later that Kent cried out, “I know you want it,” and that caused my body to erupt in anticipation.  My hole was already clenching as he pulled back and releasing on his return to allow him to slam back into me; completely reflexive as my body fought to hold him inside me and then opened to allow him entry again.

“I FUCKIN’ WANT IT!” I cried at a fever pitch of desire that echoed in the small room just as my body went rigid and he brutally slammed my fuse and ignited the torrent.  I splattered cum in an arc that hit the wall over the toilet and wall behind it like my body was expelling my guts.  “Nggggyyyyyyhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaa!” I groaned as that first shot exploded and my body went from seizing to convulsing as shot after shot followed.

And my husband’s tense groans as he expelled his seed and painted my guts rang out rhythmically as I felt his lead-like dick pulse and throb inside me.  He finally flopped down onto my back and again wrapped his arms around my sweating body; he gasped for air behind my ear and his sweat ran onto my neck and dropped from his hair.

I realized that I was dripping too; one of my forceful shots had been in time with having hung my head slackly and hit me square in the face with my own jizz.  I risked one of my hand grips to clasp his hands on my sternum and to hold him tight as he said breathily, “I’m … yours.  I have been … always will be Al.”

If I hadn’t just cum like a twenty-year-old college student jacking to his jock roommate’s filthy jock-strap I’d have blown another wad; his words and his body molded to me were that powerful.

“Aye you’re two hot dahs yees are!” Harris complimented us and clapped slowly.

Daniel laughed and told him, “How’s that to shag in the new year?”

Harris growled, “Ahhhdin’ to the shenanigans of last night I’d say a right good start!”

Kent and I managed to get ourselves standing upright though I held him tight to me and didn’t allow him to pull free of me.  “Come here Daniel,” I said and held an arm out.

He came to us while Harris stood hard and flushed watching us; his big hand idly stroked his thick stubby dick.  Kent and I each used an arm and embraced Daniel and we all three kissed deeply for an indeterminate time.  Then when he was panting and weak and we were holding him as he tottered in our arms we told him we love him; he shivered and sighed.

Harris softly exhaled and rumbled, “Tis a bonnie sight your threesome!”

To him I said, “As our guest you get first choice for breakfast.”  He looked surprised and I clarified the menu.  “My filled hole.  Kent’s slimy dick and sac.  Kent’s sweaty hole.  My spent dick and sweating hairy sac.  Or of course our boy here.”

Harris’s face had brightened but looked like he’d just been given far too many delicacies from which to choose.  “Ahm ah gettin’ fucked for the dessert?” he finally asked.

Daniel laughed with joy.  “Oh you so right are mate!  I know my dads won’t be letting you leave us until you’ve tapped-out.”

Kent said as he finally pulled his dick free of my hole, “Either you suck my husband’s ass clean or one of us will.  That’s the delicacy right there.”  He slapped my butt-cheek which caused me to involuntarily squelch out a fluidy fart of cum.

“My husband like all chefs prizes his work,” I told Harris with a laugh as he dropped to his knees and aggressively got his face in my crack.  “Oh well that’s settled then,” I said with a laugh that turned to a moan.

His big tongue was inside me easily and made me shiver with delight as he scraped my fucked-raw insides and painfully stretched hole and slurped and growled with appreciation.  “FUCK!” I cried as waves of pleasure resurged inside me.

Kent laughed and grabbed my face again and roughly kissed me and Daniel both.

“Good thing we have nowhere to be,” he said.  “We’re going to be celebrating the new year all day today with more sex than a room full of frat boys at a circuit party!

Happy new year to us!

The next morning I woke up rock hard about 4am. It was my last morning with Mr Brown as he was due to go away with his wife for 2 weeks. I wanted to make the most of the morning so rolled over to give him a cuddle, throwing my leg over is. He reached down and fondled my bottom his fingers getting dangerously close to my little hole. I could feel that it was still moist from the fucking I got the night before.

It was exciting being fucked by someone that was almost a complete stranger. I’d heard about men having anonymous sex in public toilets and the thought excited me.

Mr Brown seemed to like that fact I was still wet down there as his cock was rock hard. He told me that every man should have a blow job before he went to work so I did my duty and sucked him off.

We showered and then he gave me the task of stripping the beds, putting the bedding in the wash and putting new linen on the bed for the return of is wife later that day.

I got the post including a small parcel and handed it to him. He said the parcel was a gift for me and he watched as I opened it. I was quite perplexed as inside was a Snake Bite Kit. I laughed and mentioned the fact that we didn’t have dangerous snakes in the UK. He smiled and said they were for my nipples. He explained that I had big nipples for a young man but they could be even bigger and more sensitive with a little help.

He opened the packet, inside were two large yellow rubber cups, one long thin cup and a little glass vial of iodine and some other bits and bobs. He said we only needed the large cups. He took me up to the bedroom and got some Vaseline out of the bathroom cabinet.

“Lift you t-shirt, up and take it over your head”

I did as I was told. I’d never done this before and it felt sort of nice like I was restrained in some way. The t-shirt pushed my chest forward making my puffy breasts more defined. Mr Brown said I may have a hormone imbalance. I asked why and he explained that I had puffy breasts and very pert nipples. I had noticed at school that my mates all had flat chests with pin pricks for nipples but my nipples were big and often poked out of my t-shirts.

I asked if this was why I liked men and he smiled and said maybe.

He opened the Vaseline and applied some to my nipples and around the rim of the yellow cups. Then he put the cups against my nipples, squeezed the cups and then let go. I could feel my nipples being pulled into the cups and it felt very nice. He said that he wanted to me to use them everyday while he was away but only for 15 minutes at a time. He said if I over did it I may get water blisters on my nipples.

I pulled my t-shirt back down and left Mr Brown to get ready for the return of his wife. I went back to my studio apartment above the garage.

I had the next two weeks off work and wasn’t really sure what I was going to do. I pondered the idea of visiting my mum. It had been a few weeks since Pam, my girlfriend had caught me being fucked by Mr Brown. Mum of course was shocked when she found out but she still loved me. I thought now was probably a good time to go around and see her especially as my dad would be at work.

I hadn’t noticed the time but my nipples and started to tingle. It was a nice tingle and I didn’t really want to take the suction cups off but I was a bit scared of those so called water blisters.

I pulled at the suction cups but they wouldn’t come off. It sort of hurt a bit but it was very pleasant so I pulled some more.  I could see they were pulling on my little titties as well as my nipples. I didn’t really want to take them off as I was enjoying this new experience. I pulled a bit harder and they did pop off. My nipples had doubled inside and they felt very sensitive. I can’t tell you how much I absolutely loved the feeling.

I went into the bathroom to check in the mirror. Wow! They looked great so red and perky. Both nipples had little red rings around my areola. I pulled my t-shirt down and admired how the material hung down and across from my nipples. I smiled to myself when I realised I could probably win a wet t-shirt competition. I so wanted to put the suction cups on again but I put them away in the bathroom cabinet.

I had another shower and got changed and headed off to mums in the Sunbeam. As I drove I kept brushing my hand across my nipples. They were still tingling but had gone back to their normal size. I was disappointed about this but couldn’t wait to use the suction cups again.

Mum was pleased to see me and gave me a big hug. She made a pot of tea and cracked out my favourite biscuits – Jamie Dodgers. She asked if everything was the same and I said yes. Then we changed the subject. We had a good natter and then she asked if I would pop to the corner shop and get her some potatoes and carrots. I said I would and she gave me a bag.

As I was walking down to the shop I noticed a guy from my old school. He was in the same year as me but in a different class. I wasn’t sure how far the news of my faggot status had spread so I crossed the road to avoid him. Unfortunately the guy crossed the road as well. I couldn’t really cross back so I carried on expecting just to walk past him.

He walked passed me then turned and shouted my name.

“Are you Stuart”, he asked.

“Yes”, I replied.

He asked if I remembered him and I said I did.

“It’s Malcolm isn’t it?”, I asked.

We started chatting and he said he’d been having problems with his girlfriend and had feelings about men and could he confide in me.

I explained that I was visiting my mum and didn’t have time at the moment.

He seemed disappointed so I suggested he come over to my apartment. He explained that he was on his way to work, doing the afternoon – early evening shift and could he come over about 10pm. To be honest I didn’t want the hassle but I could see he was struggling with his feelings so I agreed.

I got my mum’s shopping and stayed for tea. Dad was working late and my sister was at her boyfriends so it was just mum and I. She cooked a fantastic Cottage Pie and after we had apple crumble and custard. It was nice to see mum and have a chat but I knew dad would be home at 8pm so I wanted to leave well before then. I gave mum a hug and headed home.

I couldn’t wait to try the nipples suction cups again and soon had them on under my t-shirt. Malcolm arrived early, I slipped my hand under my t-shirt and popped off the suction cups which I must have had on for over an hour. I just loved the feeling so much I didn’t want to take them off. I put them on the side and opened the door.

Malcolm took one look at my chest and said, “Wow, look at your nipples”.

I smiled and said I had just started using suction cups on them. I spent the next half hour showing Malcolm how they worked and he said he was going to get some too.

I bought him back to the issue with his girlfriend. He said he loved girls, absolutely adored them but when it came to making love he would go soft every time he was inside them. I blushed and told him I had the same problem. He said he’d heard that I wore stockings and suspenders for a man and how much it turned him on to dress. He pulled his jeans down a little and showed me he was wearing pink panties. I explained that the stockings and suspenders was just a one off, although thinking about it I still had them.

We then went on to talk about how he had been hanging around public toilets after work. I guess this peaked my interest especialy as I;d been fantasising about anonymous sex with strangers.

He told me about the time he went to a football match with his mates. They were walking past some toilets and he felt drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He explained that he went in for a piss and his mates carried on. They all stood in the same place each match so he would know where to find them.

He said he was a bit shy about standing at the urinal so he went into a cubicle. He described the stories on the walls and a drawing of two men dressed in stockings and suspenders fucking each other. I must admit I was beginning to get very aroused. He said there were little holes in the partition stuffed with toilet paper. He pushed the paper out of one of the holes and peered through into the next cubicle. He said he could see a man wanking, he had a big fat cock and his knob was glistening with precum. Then the whole went dark and he realised the man was looking back through at him.

I asked him what he did.

He got up and faced the hole and played with his cock for a bit. Then he looked back through the hole and could just make out the man’s eyeball.

“Fuck, that is so horny”, I said, “Carry on”.

He said he sat back down playing with his cock conscious of the time ticking by. Then a piece of paper was pushed under the partition. He picked it up and opened it. It read, “Open the door and let me in”.

I asked what he did.

He said he felt trapped the man was outside the door if he opened it he might come in but he couldn’t stay there all afternoon.

“Go on”, I said.

He explained that he waited and waited and then eventually opened the door and ran for it.

To be honest I was disappointed I thought he might of at least sucked the man off but I guess in that situation you would be nervous.

He agreed that he would have loved to suck the man off and if there was a hole big enough in the partition he would of done. He was just too scared to let the man in.

Hew told me more stories about the various toilets around town and how he had them all marked in his AtoZ giving each one a star rating for stories, men etc.

I told him about my issues with my ex girlfriend and how much fun I’d been having with Mr Brown. He said he loved older men, you know dirty pervs that hang around toilets. I didn’t know but the thought was turning me on. He explained how he loved the smell of stale piss in the toilets and that sometimes he would stand so close to the urinal his piss would splash back over his trousers and his hands. I could see he was getting really worked up, I think he was enjoying trying to shock me. He said he’d love a man to piss all over him and drench him in piss.

I said I’d never told anyone this but a few years ago I met my mates in the park. They’d been drinking and there were a few cans around. They offered me a drink out of a bumper can of beer. I took the can and had a few gulps. Straight away I realised it was warm. My mates all laughed and said they had all pissed in the can. Malcolm asked if I enjoyed it and I said that I’d never forgotten it and when I think about it now it does get me hard.

He said we were both sissy faggots born to serve men and do anything they wanted. He asked if I would introduce him to some men like Mr Brown. I explained that I only knew Mr Brown but he begged me to invite him to a gang bang. I laughed and said I’d never been to a gang bang. He said it was only a matter of time because men like Mr Brown knew other men who liked 20 something lads like us.

He was obviously very keen and not as shy as I first thought. I suppose I saw him as a threat, I didn’t want to share Mr Brown with another lad so I had no intention of mentioning this lad to anyone.

By now I was getting a little irritated and I said I was going to bed. Malcolm apologised for keeping me up so late and I showed him to the door.

He turned just before leaving and said, “If ever you want to come cottaging with me to some public toilets let me know. Men would love two twinks on their knees sucking their cocks”

I laughed and shut the door but I must admit the idea excited me. I didn’t want to upset Mr Brown and lose my job but yes I liked that idea it was naughty.

“Davidson!,” Pig declared, recognizing the first figure in the door.   “Am I ever glad to see you guys!”   Stepping into the light of the room, the first man was tall and trim, his impeccable, tight fitting blue uniform accentuated his muscularity.  He reached over and pulled his nightstick from its ring.  His biceps bulged, straining at the short sleeve shirt, a tattoo of a bulldog just visible on the right at the edge of the fabric.  The square jaw and dark eyes were set off by a close cropped “high and tight” brown flat top.  Pig had seen him around the station and had even talked to him a few times in passing.   Always meticulous in manner and appearance, Pig wasn’t surprised to learn he was an ex-marine DI.  An enigmatic figure, Officer Davidson’s off duty time was a complete mystery to his co-workers.  Never fraternizing off the job, it was as if he didn’t exist out of uniform.  But he was a damned good cop, and if you ever needed backup in a hot situation, he was the one everybody wanted at their side.

Davidson strode purposefully the short distance to the middle of the room, leaving the second figure in the shadowy darkness of the entryway.  He approached Stud and the bound Pig, who continued with enthusiastic menace, “Look at what these fuckers have done to me!  But now that it’s three to three, maybe we can even the score.  First thing I want to do is . . .”  Pig’s sentence was clipped short as the nightstick thrust into his belly, knocking the wind out of him. 

“First thing you want to do,” said the ex-marine in a low, quiet tone, “is shut the fuck up, maggot.”  Then, looking over at the exposed lieutenant, a hint of a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.  “Still cornholing the animals, huh, Stud?”

Indifferent to his salacious condition, Stud’s smile lit up his face.  “You know me, Bear.  Simple pleasures are still the best.”

Recovering from the blow to his stomach, Pig’s mind registered the appellation.  So, the Bear that Wolf had called wasn’t some dirty biker, but another of the group with animal nicknames.  Pig couldn’t have known that Wolf had given him the handle while he was still in the Corps.  Bear had taken a lot of good natured kidding from the zoomies about his drill instructor headgear, but he had that leatherneck pride and accepted the nickname as a badge of honor.  Appropriately enough, it still fit now that he was a patrolman.  He couldn’t change it anyway.

By this time Bull and Wolf had stood from the couch and walked over.    “What’s with this ‘everybody freeze’ bit?” Wolf grinned extending his hand to Bear’s.  “You really get off on saying that, doncha?”

Bear grinned broadly for the first time, slapping Bull on the back.  “Well a guy’s gotta have some fun in his job, now don’t he?  How’re you doin’, Bull?  You been sick?” he joshed.   “You’re nothing but skin and bones.”

Bull doubled his fists, feigning a series of playful jabs at Bear’s tight stomach.  “I’ll give ya skin and bones, jarhead.”

Stud had replaced his ample meat back inside his trousers and was buttoning the fly.  “That’s Officer Jarhead, Bull.  Careful how you talk to the police.  They’re our friends, you know.”

Bear looked over at the shaved, bound, collared man with the shield pinned to his chest.  “Yeah, they are,” he said, “with one naked, glaring exception.”  A cloud darkened the expression on Bear’s face.  “But then, it takes a damned site more than a badge to make a man a cop, doesn’t it?”

Pig’s mind was a mass of confusion.  Things just weren’t adding up.  “Davidson, what the hell’s going on?  You fucking KNOW these bastards?”  Fear began gnawing vaguely again at his gut.

“I know a lot of people, maggot,” Bear spat.   “And I know a lot of THINGS.  Like, for instance, what’s been going on with you and the rookies.”  The corners of Bear’s mouth drew downward, his brow darkening above his eyes.  “But there’s one rookie in particular for which you’re gonna pay.  You see, he’s my buddy.  More than that, he’s my lover.”  Bear looked over at the open doorway, and Pig’s gaze followed to see the second figure which had, by now, moved into the light of the room.

“Fellas,” Bear glanced briefly back at the three Air Force officers, “I don’t think you’ve met Officer Manny Cubrelli.  Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  Bear introduced his partner to Wolf, and Bull, then Stud.  “And, of course, you’ve already met this human garbage.” Bear nodded toward Pig.

Manny was barrel chested, his wide shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist.  The broad shoulders and chest gave the illusion that he was shorter than his five foot, ten inches; and this was only reinforced as the taller Bear moved over to put his arm around his buddy’s shoulders.  The blue serge uniform hugged tightly at the smaller cop’s muscular thighs and heavy crotch.  His classic italian features were set off by his thick mustache and bluish shadow of beard that refused to remain shaven.

“Yeah,” Manny said, looking at Pig.  “We’ve met, haven’t we, Officer?”  His face was expressionless, though his hands were clenched into tight fists, whitening the knuckles.

“Well, Manny,” Wolf began, “it’s a pleasure to meet ya, but we’re gonna have to get you a nickname.  Let’s see,” he grinned, “you’re a rookie cop, and a partner of Bear’s.  Hell, why don’t we just shorten your last name and call you ‘Cub’?”

Bear nodded, “Well, he’s certainly furry enough, I can vouch for that!”  He laughed aloud, clapping Manny on the back.

A smile curled at the edges of the newly nicknamed rookie’s mouth, softening the harshness of the features.  “Thanks, guys.  I guess this means I’m in, huh?”

Bull grasped Cub’s shoulder in a beefy hand.  “Any friend of Bear’s is a friend of ours.  And from the sound of things, you’re more than just any friend.  You ever need anything, we’re all here for ya.”

Wolf grinned, “What Bull says is true, I can attest to that.  We’re a close knit family, and I feel like we just got a little brother.”  Wolf’s smile faded slowly as he became more somber.  “Listen, Bear’s told me a little about what happened with you and our friend, Pig, here.  I can relate, believe me.  I’ve almost completed my retribution.  Just one more thing and then he’s all yours.”  Wolf looked over at Bear, “You got the stuff?”

“Ten-four,” Bear winked, “in the trunk of the vehicle.”  He then turned to his shorter partner, “Bring in the package, would ya, Cub?”

 

*****

 

When Pig first saw Officer Cubrelli in the doorway, he realized his rescue was not to be forthcoming.  Pig’s eye had been on the short, stocky italian since his first day at the force, and he knew that his time would come.  As one of the Field Training Officers, Pig had only to bide his time and wait for the inevitable rotation.  All of the rookies would ride with each of the three FTO’s for a month at a time.  At the end of the third month, provided all three training officers approved, the rookie received his full certification.

As it turned out, Pig was to be the Italian rookie’s second FTO.  During the first month, Pig would see him in the station from time to time, and each encounter stiffened his dick.  It was a chance meeting in the locker room, however, that had convinced him that he would have Officer Cubrelli, one way or another.  Pig was just changing from his civvies in preparation for his night shift when Manny came in.

“How’s it going, Rookie,” Pig asked, staring as the younger cop stripped off his uniform shirt, his chest straining at the white cotton t-shirt.

Manny gave a friendly, innocent smile, “Doing real good.  That Officer Brown’s a great FTO.”  Pulling the undershirt over his head, he revealed a dense mat of black fur covering his chest and tapering down his rippled abdomen.  “You can only learn so much from the Academy.  That’s why I’m really enjoying this.”  Manny took off his utility belt and started to open the fly of his uniform trousers.

You’re not the only one that’s enjoying this, Pig thought silently to himself.  His cock was aching in its confinement, and he shifted slightly to allow the meat more room to play.

Manny was apparently oblivious to the effect he was having on Pig, and continued on, “I understand that you’ll be my next FTO.”  He sat to untie and remove his shoes and socks.  “I’m looking forward to riding with you.”  As he stood again, Manny pushed his striped trousers down his muscular thighs and pulled them off.  Now wearing just his white jockey shorts, he reached into his locker and pulled out a towel, his firm asscheeks straining at the thin material as he did so.

Pig licked at his lips which had suddenly become dry.  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to that, too.  I think I’ll be able to teach you a few things.”

Manny unabashedly pulled off his undershorts and tossed them into the locker.  Pulling his shaving kit off the top shelf, he slammed the locker shut and held out his right hand to Pig, “I’m sure you will, Sir.  Pleasure talking with you.  I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

Pig almost gasped as he watched the rookie’s meat flop into view.  He automatically reached out to shake the man’s extended hand, and muttered, “Yeah, I’ll be waiting,” as the rookie headed into the showers, his dick slapping from side to side with each step. 

Looking down at his own bulging crotch, Pig saw a dark blue stain of precum on the left thigh of his uniform.  “Shit,” he whispered, rubbing absently at the spot, then looked toward the sound of the running shower.  “SHIT!,” he repeated.

 

* * * * *

The first few days of the rotation together went uneventfully, with Pig subtly trying to discern just what the beefy rookie was into.  Each time he approached the subject, however, Manny skirted the issue of his private life.  One way or another, though, Pig was going to get a piece of this action; and if it wasn’t going to be consensual, well then, that was fine, too.  Several times while they were patrolling the streets, Pig would throw the topic of mansex into the conversation, and Manny would congenially laugh it off.

By the end of the third week, Pig was barely able to maintain his professionalism.  The smell of the rookie, the way he talked, and that goddamned hairy body, rippling under the blue serge with each movement, all conspired with Pig’s lechery to drive him close to insanity.  Throughout the weekend, it gnawed at his gut and consumed his mind.  Each time the image of the hirsute, naked rookie formed in his mind, Pig’s dick would drip precum in some perverse Pavlovian response.

So it was that, by the following Friday, when an unsuspecting Manny lithely slid into the vehicle beside Pig, his fate was determined.

“Morning, Sir,” Manny grinned, his dark eyes sparkling above his black mustache and white teeth as he started the engine of the patrol car.  “How’d your evening go?”

Pig’s adrenalin was pumping, sweat stains formed in the armpits of his uniform shirt.  “It was so-so,” he responded, trying to sound nonchalant.  “Listen, I need to stop by the house for a few minutes.  It’s over on Robinson Avenue.”

“No sweat,” Manny replied, looking in the rearview mirror as he backed the vehicle out of the parking space.  As he did so, Pig took the opportunity to scrutinize the rookie’s brawny body, his arms bulging as he maneuvered to steering wheel.  Yeah, Pig thought, his cock stiffening in his pants, this stud was going to be his, no question about it.

A few minutes later the patrol car pulled into the driveway of Pig’s house.

“Come on in for a few minutes, let me show you around.” Pig still tried to sound casual, even though lust was taking over control of his body.  He stepped out of the vehicle and watched as Manny exited the driver’s side, studying the rookie’s sinewy movements.

Pig walked to the house with Manny close behind.  Unlocking the door, he opened it wide and motioned for Manny to enter.  Pig then followed him in and, after surreptitiously glancing around the neighborhood to be sure no one was watching, swung the door shut.

“Nice place you’ve got here, Sir,” Manny stated.  “I’d like to have a place like this someday.”

“Thanks.  It serves my purposes,” Pig replied, sweating slightly with anticipation.  “You can just put your weapon and gunbelt on the table there.”

A quizzical look passed briefly across the rookie’s face.  It seemed a bit odd that a fellow officer would ask him to remove his firearm, but in deference to his host’s wishes, he did as requested.

Pig inwardly smiled at how easy this was going to be.  That was your first mistake, rookie, he thought.  “Come with me, I want to show you something,” Pig motioned to Manny, opening a door that led to the basement.

Manny’s fledgling cop instincts told him that something was just not quite right here, but he trusted his fellow officer and dismissed his gut feelings as the product of an overactive imagination.  Passing by Pig and heading down the stairs, Manny turned, “Sir, I don’t think we should be off patrol for too long.”

“Don’t worry, boy.  I won’t tie you up any longer than necessary.”  Pig tried to smile, but it came off as more of a leer, the glassy eyes hidden from Manny by the dim light in the stairway.

Manny descended the stairs, fighting his intuition, his heart rate increasing slightly.  On reaching the bottom of the steps, he was able to see into the murky cellar.  His heart thudded dully in his ears, and his mouth dropped open as he took in the sight of a medieval dungeon.  A small, barred cell was in one corner, and shackles hung from chains embedded in the stone wall.  What appeared to be a large wooden ‘x’ was in the center of the room, illuminated by a single incandescent bulb overhead.  A workbench holding various unfamiliar implements lined one wall.

Manny turned to look at Pig on the stairs, “What . . . ?”  Suddenly, fear gripped his stomach, his eyes widening in the gloom.  He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.  Pig was standing at the top of the stairway holding the rookie’s empty holster in his left hand.  In the right hand he held the drawn Glock, the muzzle pointed directly at the younger cop’s head.

“What’s the matter,” Pig grinned, a demonic expression on his face, “don’t you like the decor?”  His laughter echoed dully off the stone walls.

Manny stood frozen, the blackness of the gun barrel focused his attention.  “I don’t understand.  What are you doing?  Is this some sort of a test?”

Pig laughed again, its menace enhanced by the surroundings.  “Oh, yeah.  It’s a test,” he chuckled.  “And I think you know what I want.  You’ve seen me watching you, and you’ve been flaunting it in my face for the past three weeks.  Well, the marker’s due, boy, and I’m here to collect.  Now, move over by that cross under the light .”

Manny’s mind was reeling.  What was happening here?  What had he been flaunting?  And just what was there to collect?  Beads of sweat were forming on the handsome Italian’s forehead as he moved to the wooden cross in the center of the room.  Under the circumstances, he felt it was best to go along with the scenario.

Pig descended to the bottom of the stairs, the Glock still pointed at the young cop.  “That’s a good boy,” he said, smelling the thick scent of fear.  “I gave you every opportunity to do this the easy way.  But you’re just a prick tease, aren’t you, rookie?”

“What are you talking about?  Opportunity for what?  What have I done?”  It was as if the air had become thin.  Manny was having a hard time taking a deep breath, and the dryness of his mouth made it difficult to talk.

“I’ve had my eye on you since your first day at the station.  That little show you put on for me in the locker room convinced me your body was going to be mine.  One way or another.  Now, strip.”  The smile had faded from Pig’s face.  “Let’s see that body again.”

Manny’s hands trembled slightly as he reached up to take off his tie and unbutton his uniform shirt.  He understood too late that his intuition was correct.  This was not a field test.  The FTO was psychotic, and there was nothing he could do about it now.  Dropping the blue shirt to the floor, Manny slid the white t-shirt over his head revealing the thick black fur on his chest and abdomen, the hair of his armpits matted with sweat.

Pig licked his lips, his nostrils flaring as his eyes narrowed.  “That’s real nice.  Just like I remembered.  Now, keep going!”

Manny’s heart was racing as he bent over to untie his shoes, his broad back coming into view and the corded muscles in his arms rippling as he undid the laces and removed the shoes and socks.  Silently he looked at Pig as he arose again, muted by the mixture of fear and anger.  How could this be happening?  Why was he forced to strip by a fellow officer he had come to trust and respect?  He slowly unbuckled his braided uniform belt and opened the fly of the uniform trousers; then, pushing them down, kicked them off as they settled around his ankles.  He stood now, facing his FTO.  Dressed only in his white briefs, Manny tried hard not to show the fear gripping his guts.

Pig tossed the empty gun holster he was holding in his left hand aside and pointed to the rookie’s undershorts.  “Take those off, too!  You didn’t seem to have any hesitation flopping that dick at me in the locker room.”

Manny swallowed hard although his mouth refused to supply the saliva necessary to complete the action.  Shucking off this last item of clothing, his humiliation caused him to cover both hands over his manhood, the fear driving his testicles high in the scrotum.

Pig laughed at this futile attempt, “Since you can’t seem to keep your hands away from your dick, why don’t you make them useful?”  Then, in response to the rookie’s questioning look, added, “Pump your cock, asshole.  Stroke it for me, show me how you do it at home.”

“Please,” Manny began, “don’t . . .”

Pig aimed the weapon down at the man’s hairy groin.  “You either start beating that meat, or I’ll fix it so that you won’t ever have to worry about beating it again!”

Even in its flaccid state, the Italian’s meat was a handful, and Manny stroked it slowly.  Though inhibited by fear, his cock began to rise to the familiar caress.

“That’s a good boy,” Pig taunted.  “Make it hard for me.  Yeah, man, I knew that fucker’d be impressive.  Use that other hand on your tits.  Make ’em stand up at attention!”  Pig was obviously enjoying the reluctant show before him.  He moved his left hand to fondle the bulge extending down his right thigh, a dark stain of precum spreading across the fabric.

Manny stroked harder at his meat while twisting and pulling at his nipples through their cover of black fur, his ministrations becoming automatic after years of practice.  He tried to suppress the fear, hoping that once he drained his balls this nightmare would end.  His right hand pumped faster on his rod, while the left ran through the pelt on his chest and abs.  He could feel the cum churning for release from his balls, his breath now rapid and shallow.

Pig’s eyes were glazed with lust, the stain of precum growing larger as he absently grabbed at the throbbing cock imprisoned in his uniform.  “Oh yeah, man, I knew you’d get into this once you got started.  Shoot your load for me, you fuckin’ hot Wop!”

Manny’s head was thrown back, his eyes wide, his mouth forming a gaping ‘o’.  The precum from his piss slit lubricated his pistoning fist as it glided over the head of his dick.  His abdomen was rock hard as his hips bucked in prelude to orgasm.  “Uhh, uhhh, uhhhhhhhhhh . . . ,” he panted.  “Oh, god!  I’m gonna . . . UHHHhhhhhh!”  Suddenly, a white geyser shot forth from the hunky muscleman’s thick cock, and splattered in small puddles on the concrete floor.  Drawing several deep breaths, Manny’s humiliation and embarrassment returned.  He hung his head in shame as his dick hung semi-turgid over his ample ballsack, a thin drop of cum dangling from the tip.

“Bravo!,” Pig cheered enthusiastically, “that was some performance, rookie.  Much better than that little preview you gave in the locker room.  But just look at that mess you made all over my basement floor.”  Suddenly his voice became menacing, “Clean it up, asshole!”

Manny looked around him for a towel or rag with which to wipe up the manjuice seeping into the concrete floor.  Finding none, he grabbed his discarded t-shirt from his pile of clothing.

“Not with that, you fuck-off,” Pig growled.  A sneer formed across his face.  “Lick it up!”

Manny’s stomach turned over, but the business end of his revolver pointed at his groin was enough incentive for the hairy bodybuilder to kneel.  Then, down on all fours, he stuck out his tongue and licked hesitantly at one of the slimy globs.  Forcibly restraining himself from vomiting, he sluggishly lapped up the remaining semen, the grit and dirt grinding between his teeth as he clenched his jaws.

“That’s a good boy,” jeered Pig.  “You did such a good job, I may just have you do the whole basement.”  A look of revulsion and dread shrouded the handsome rookie’s face.  Pig saw this and laughed, “Well, not right now.  I’ve got other plans for you.”  A cold, maniacal look settled in his eyes, “Get up and fasten your ankles in the restraints.”

The naked rookie stood, his stomach still attempting to heave up the filth from the basement floor.  He hesitated momentarily, glancing at Pig with a look of the betrayed.

  Tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows, Pig cocked the hammer of the firearm aimed at the Italian’s genitals.  “Do it,” he growled with a quiet menace.

Manny’s mind was racing.  Should he attempt to rush the psychotic cop and risk being castrated by his own weapon?  Or worse.  Pig had obviously thought this through.  Using the rookie’s weapon instead of his own gave him an alibi in the event he had to use it.  Dump the body in some alleyway with the polished weapon and wait for the ten-sixty call.  Officer down.  Shot by some hood with his own Glock.  He was just a rookie, after all.  Hey, these things happen.

No!  It wasn’t going to happen!  Not to him, and not like this!   A bitter anger welled up in Manny’s chest, but he realized his best course of action was to do as he was told.  With his back to the wooden ‘x’, he leaned forward and closed the shackles around each ankle.

Pig licked his lips, his lust on full boil.  The sticky stain of precum continued to grow as he watched his hairy victim secure himself to the cross.  “Now the right wrist, asshole.”

Manny reached his right hand high over his head, using his left hand to attach the restraints to the wrist.  Pig nodded as if to an obedient child.  “That’s a good boy.  Now, put your left hand behind your head.”

The hunky rookie did as instructed, his heartbeat thudding louder in his ears.  Pig moved behind the cross and held the gun to Manny’s temple.  With his left hand, he attached Manny’s left wrist to the remaining restraint, leaving him securely spread eagled to the wooden cross.

Stepping around front, Pig gaped at the magnificent view of the bound, hairy, muscleman before him.  Sweat ran in small rivulets from Manny’s armpits and glistened in the hairs of his chest and belly.  “Oh, baby!  You ARE a hot piece of work,” Pig chuckled.  Suddenly, Pig sank his face into the rookies right armpit, licking hungrily at the sweat, then moved to the left.

Manny was startled by the unexpected move and gasped at the feel of a man’s tongue on his body.  The pleasurable sensation caused him to swallow, tasting the semen and dirt he had licked from the floor.

Pig ran his tongue though the forest of chest hair until he found the rookie’s left nipple and began to suck.  As he sucked and licked, Manny moaned softly, the nipple becoming hard, and protruding a quarter inch from the base.  Taking it between his teeth, Pig bit down hard, eliciting a scream from the young cop.  Pig let out an evil laugh as he moved to the right nipple and gripped it between his teeth, pulling it from the man’s chest.

“Oh, please!  Stop,” Manny lamented, “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pig ran his hand through the fur on the man’s chest, down his belly and fondled the cock and balls nestled in the thick crotch hair.  His face was inches from the blue-jowled captive’s.  “You made me do this, asshole.  By looking the way you do.  By moving and acting the way you do.”  There was a coldness in the eyes that Manny had never seen before in the man he had come to trust as his FTO and fellow officer.  “And I know you want it too.  You’ve been taunting me since you arrived.  Well, your taunting’s over and my fun’s begun.”  Pig grasped Manny’s jaw in his left hand and stuck the gunbarrel in the rookie’s mouth.  “Show me how good you are at sucking, Wop-cop.”

Adrenaline surged into the naked man’s bloodstream as panic gripped his chest.  He closed his lips over the cold steel, tasting metal and bitter oil on his tongue.  Squeezing his eyes shut, in terror of having the weapon discharge, he felt the barrel slide slowly in and out of his mouth.

Pig smiled evilly.  “Oh, yeah.  You’re good at that,” and continued to ram the gunbarrel into the frightened rookie’s throat.  After a few minutes, he tired of this and withdrew the weapon.  Manny exhaled a ragged breath of relief and opened his eyes to see Pig holding the pistol in front of his face.  Without taking his eyes off Manny’s, a slight smile on his face, Pig placed the barrel into his own mouth and licked off the saliva that coated it.  Then, removing it from his mouth, he ran his tongue over his lips and laid the weapon on the workbench along the wall.

Taking a two inch leather ball stretcher from a jar of water in which it had been soaking, he approached the spread-eagled hirsute captive.  “You’re going to like this,” he sneered, fixing the leather tightly around the base of the ballsack, forcing the nuts to the bottom, stretching the remaining skin, and then locked it into place with a small padlock.  “An interesting fact about leather is that it tends to shrink as it dries.  I like to think of it as a lover’s embrace.”  Again, Pig emitted a maniacal laugh and gripped the rookie’s cock in his hand.  Bending forward at the waist, Pig took the Italian’s meat into his mouth and sucked, his tongue brushing lightly at the sensitive base of the cockhead.

Despite his terror, Manny’s dick began to again harden in response to the warm, moist caress.  “That’s the way,” Pig slurped at the cockhead, his hand working the base of the shaft.  “I need it good and hard for my next trick.”

“Oh, damn,” Manny moaned.  What was this psycho-pervert up to now?  He watched as Pig released his cock, and went back to the workbench.  Sorting through the equipment, he selected a simple box with a crank on the side and two thumb screws on the top.  Picking up a leather bag, he brought the items in front of the rookie.  Opening the bag, he withdrew two metal rods, each with a length of plastic coated wire soldered to the end.  One was about eight inches long with a gradual flare that sharply tapered at the base where the wire was attached.  The second one was simply a thin, rounded rod about an eighth of an inch in diameter and twelve inches in length.

Pig talked as he went about attaching the loose ends of wire to the thumb screws on the top of the box.  “You ever hear of the Tucker telephone, Wop-cop?  Handy little device.  Actually little more than a simple crank generator.”  Taking the flared rod, he spit on it and spread the lubricant over the tip.  Then, reaching between the furry, spread legs of the young cop, inserted it into the asshole with a firm shove until the sphincter muscle closed over the tapered neck, holding it in place.  Manny gasped at this violent intrusion, his eyes wide.  The cold metallic dildo pressed on his prostate causing his cock to harden still more and forcing a clear drop of precum from the opening.

Pig saw this and grinned.  “That’s good.  You’re gonna need that lube for this next step.”  With the thin rod in his right hand, Pig grasped Manny’s jutting dick in his left.  Then, slowly, he inserted the rod into the piss-slit through the precum, leaving a quarter inch extending from the tip.

Manny clenched his teeth as the foreign object entered his manhood and continued through the urethra into his prostate.  Scared as hell, he had never had anything inside his penis before, and didn’t particularly want it now.

“This is great,” Pig leered, his eyes shining coldly, “you’re gonna get a charge out of this!”  He giggled at his own joke as he picked up the box and grasped the handle on the side.  He locked his gaze on the wide, dark eyes of his victim.  “You ready?”

Manny started to speak and shake his head no, when Pig quickly turned the crank on the box.  Immediately, fire seared the rookie’s groin as the generated electricity flowed through his prostate between the two electrodes.  A shriek of fear and agony exploded from his lungs, a look of surprised anguish on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you it’d be great?” Pig whooped, again cranking the handle on the box.

Manny’s body convulsed as the shock entered his body.  He felt as if he had to shit and piss, but the electrodes prevented him from doing either.  “Please!  No more.  Please!”

Pig’s face darkened as a scowl formed below his brows, “Maybe from now on you’ll be a little more careful about who you go flopping that dick at, asshole.”  He turned the crank again, causing the rookie’s body to spasm.  “If you’re gonna play the game, you gotta pay the price!”

Manny’s breath was coming in short gasps.  “I didn’t mean anything by it.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know. . . Ahhhhhhrrrggh!” he clenched his teeth, biting his tongue as another jolt crossed the embedded electrodes.

“Well, you’re just not getting into the spirit of this at all,” chided Pig, setting the box down.  “But, I’ve got something that’ll take care of that.”  Reaching between the man’s thighs, he grabbed the end of the buttplug and pulled it out, eliciting an “Unnnnhhhhhh” from the Italian captive cop.  Taking the still throbbing cock in his hand, Pig then extracted the thin electrode from the man’s urethra.  Grabbing the rookie’s shiny, extended ballsack, he reached up with his other hand to smack lightly at Manny’s cheek.  “Now don’t you go anywhere.  I’ll be right back.”  Releasing the nuts after a quick squeeze, Pig turned and stomped up the stairs.

Manny, exhausted, wondered what could be next.  What did he mean that he had something?  And when was this torment going to end?

Moments later Manny looked up at the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs.  Pig came down still dressed in full uniform, his cock bulging obscenely down his thigh.  Walking up to Manny, he held up what looked like a wax bullet.  “I hope you appreciate this,” he began.  “These things are damned expensive.  Have to have them smuggled in from Europe.”  The sneer was back on his face.  “But the effects are worth it.  Ya see, this contains a drug that works as one fucking powerful aphrodisiac.  Once absorbed into the body, the brain gives way to five or six hours of mindless lust.  Nothing else matters, but getting off.  Of course, in larger doses, it eventually leads to a loss of consciousness.”  He opened his palm to reveal two more of the wax ovals.  “That’s why I brought you three of ’em.”  He smirked, as Manny looked at him with questioning eyes.  “Oh, they work.  Believe me.  They’ve come in very handy.”  Pig chuckled to himself.  “You’re going to thank me for this,” he reached around to spread the rookies hairy asscheeks and inserted the first suppository.    Manny tried to clamp his ass shut, but it was a futile attempt as Pig inserted another of the suppositories.  His brain started to cloud vaguely as he felt a tingling sensation in his groin.  Looking down, Manny saw his cock jutting out above his stretched ballsack, the head swollen and purplish, clear precum dripping to the floor.  “Unnnrrrr,” he grunted, as the tingling spread through his groin and belly.  There was no resistance as Pig inserted the third suppository into his asshole.

Suddenly, Manny’s whole purpose in life was to cum.  He wanted . . . no, he NEEDED to grab his dick and beat it until it spewed hot seed from his tethered balls.  Lust burned in his eyes as he pulled at the restraints holding his wrists, a thin line of drool trickled down from the left side of his mouth.  The tingling in his groin became a pulsating current demanding release.  A look of pleading came over his face as he pulled at the wrist restraints.

Pig watched, amused.  “Oh, yeah.  You’re gonna have a GOOD time!” and laughed as he undid the restraints at the rookie’s ankles.  Then he stood and undid Manny’s right wrist from it’s bonds.  Immediately, the rookie grabbed his cock and began furiously pumping.  As Pig released his left wrist, Manny used that hand, too, to minister to his throbbing meat.

With all his consciousness focused on his cock, Manny barely realized being led to the cell in the corner of the basement where he stood stroking violently on his dick.  The muscles of his arms and chest bulged in stark relief, as his collared balls slapped painfully from side to side.  The cell door swung shut with a metallic screech and Pig put a padlock in place and closed the hasp.

“I gotta get back on patrol,” he called to the busy captive, “I’ll be back after shift.  But don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.”  He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he climbed the stairs and closed the door.

Pig returned that evening to find Officer Cubrelli slumped in the far corner of the cell.  His hand still gripped at his limp, red dick.  Dried and drying cum matted the hair on his chest, belly and arms, as well as spotting the floor of the small cell in testament to the effects of the aphrodisiac he had been administered.  His balls were bluish purple below the constricting, dried leather ball stretcher.  The leather was covered with scratches where the now unconscious officer had apparently tried to remove it as it squeezed down on his tortured testicles.

Reaching into a cabinet beside the cell, Pig pushed a button and removed a videocassette, grinning at the motionless, hairy hulk in the cell.  “Well, this should prove to be entertaining, if what you look like now is any indication.”

Going to the rookie’s discarded uniform heaped in a pile by the wooden ‘x’, Pig pulled out the wallet.  Taking out the driver’s license, he looked at the address and returned it to the wallet, which he then replaced in the uniform trousers.  Reaching into a front pocket he took the rookie’s keyring, putting it into his own pocket.  Whistling cheerfully, he gathered up the pile and carried it to the door connecting to the garage.  Opening the trunk of his cruiser, he tossed the policeman’s uniform and equipment in and slammed it shut.  He then opened the back door of the vehicle, and, leaving it wide, stepped back into the basement dungeon. 

Returning to the cell, he unlocked the door, opened it and stepped in.  He kicked lightly at the ribs of the young cop, getting no response.  Grinning an evil smile, he began whistling again as he bent and, with a little effort, hoisted the muscular rookie’s limp body over his shoulders and carried it to the garage.  Laying Manny on the back seat, he closed the cardoor, still whistling brightly.

He spent the next hour and a half editing the videotape onto a fresh cassette which he then slipped into its jacket.  Stopping at the desk to write a short note on a yellow post-it pad, he tore off the sheet and stuck it to the cassette box.

Standing on his doorstep with the cassette in his hand, he closed and locked his front door, then stared up at the now dark and star filled sky.  He began whistling again as he went down the steps, opened the garage door, and got into his patrol car, tossing the cassette on the empty passenger seat.  He turned around as he backed the car out of the driveway, glimpsing down briefly at the sprawled, naked form of Officer Cubrelli in the back seat, and began chuckling to himself.  Putting words to the tune he had been whistling, Pig sang softly to himself, a grin on his face, “I fought the law, and the law won . . .”

 

Driving to the address he had memorized from the license, Pig parked the car, turned off the lights and engine, and exited.  Going the few feet to the front door, he rang the doorbell of the darkened house, assuring himself there was no one else home when the chimes went unanswered.  Taking the rookie’s keyring from his pocket, he found the housekey, inserted it in the lock, and opened the door.  Then, returning to the cruiser, he opened the back door, and lifted the naked officer over his shoulders.  Carrying Manny into the bedroom, he tossed him onto the kingsize bed and looked around.  Something struck him as not quite right.  His cheery mood evaporated and his eyes narrowed as he realized what it was.  The pair of police issue sweats hanging from the doorknob were several sizes too large for the short Italian he had just unloaded.  Moving to the bureau, he picked up a framed picture of two men with their arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling at the camera.  “Davidson!” Pig whispered in amazement, then turned to the body on the bed and grinned.  “You little devil.  No wonder you were always so evasive about your personal life.”  Looking back at the picture, then at the sweats, he continued, “This also clears up a lot of the mystery about that fucking high and mighty ex-grunt.”  Going to the closet, Pig opened it revealing several sets of regulation police uniforms, one short and the other long.  “Oh, yeah.  This clears up a helluva lot.”

Pig went out to the car, opened the trunk and gathered the pile of clothing and equipment into his arms.  Closing the lid as quietly as possible, he stopped to retrieve the videotape from the front seat.  Carrying his load back into the house, he dumped it on the floor at the foot of the bed, placing the cassette on top with the yellow post-it note in plain view.

Standing in front of the dresser mirror, Pig adjusted his uniform and patted a few errant hairs back into place.  “You know what,” he grinned at his reflection in the mirror, “I’m in the mood for some fun, how ’bout you?”  The image in the mirror nodded back at him.  “Yeah, I thought so.”  Then, he turned, walked out of the house, locked the front door, got into the patrol car and headed for his favorite stretch of deserted, dark country road.  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch that fucking zoomie tonite.  Yep, we just might.”

 

Manny heard his name being called, and tried to rise but couldn’t lift his head.  It was as if a large weight had been clamped to his temples, holding his head against the ground.  He attempted to open his eyes, and was blinded by a great ocean of light.  Still, he heard his name being called over and over.  Slowly he was able to swim to the surface of the light, his head throbbing in a vice like grip.  He opened his eyes and looked directly into the moist brown eyes of his lover. 

Bear had come home from night shift to find Manny curled on the bed, cum matting the hair on his body, his dick swollen and red, and his testicles bound in the constricting leather ball stretcher.  He’d had to get his bolt cutters from the cruiser to remove the padlock that held it in place.

His initial panic had faded when he checked Manny’s carotid and found a pulse.  He tried slapping his lover’s cheeks lightly to revive him, calling his name, tears welling up in his eyes.  He cradled Manny’s head on his large bicep, stroking his hair with the other hand.  “Manny,” he repeated over and over as if the mantra itself would revive his fallen comrade.

“Bear . . .?”  Manny’s eyes began to focus.  The ocean of light was the morning sun shining brightly through the bedroom window.  “Bear?” he repeated.

“I’m here, Manny.  I’m here.  It’s okay, buddy.”  His voice was choked, tears welled up and ran down his cheeks as he held the rookie’s head to his chest.

Manny wrapped his muscled arms around Bear’s waist like a drowning man grasping at a log.  They stayed like this for the next ten to fifteen minutes, as, slowly, Manny regained his bearings.  Gently, Manny eventually pulled away from Bear and turned his head in shame and humiliation.  His head was throbbing as he watched the curtains billow gently in the breeze from the window.

“Manny, what . . .?” Bear began.

“Please, Bear.  I can’t.  Not right now.”  He looked with hollow eyes at his partner’s face and saw the love and concern in the rigid features, but he couldn’t talk about it yet.  He had to get it straight within himself first.  Then, maybe.  Manny rose from the bed, the pounding ache in his head worsening as the room began to spin.  Holding on to the bedpost for a few seconds, the vertigo stopped, and he started toward the shower.  Manny passed by Bear who was seated on the edge of the bed watching, and reached out to take his head in both hands.  He ran his right hand over the ex-marine’s flat top, then wiped away a tear from his buddy’s cheek with his thumb.  “I love you, Bear.  That’s all you gotta know for now.”  Bear sat silent as Manny entered the bathroom and turned on the shower spray.  “I love you too,” Bear said, although no sound escaped his lips.

Although relieved his lover was alive, and apparently without any lasting physical damage, Bear was, nonetheless, gravely concerned.  He had never seen Manny like this.  They always talked about everything.  Bear was the one who convinced Manny to join the force.  And they were excited when they found out Bear was to be his final FTO.  But, now…

Bear shook his head and stood.  He started unbuttoning his uniform when he noticed the pile at the foot of the bed.  He bent down and picked up the videocassette carton, reading the attached post-it note:  Officer Cubrelli, Congratulations on passing your second month.  Thought you’d enjoy this present.  We’re not through yet.  Say the word and a copy goes to the Chief and the Police Commissioner.

Putting the cassette on the dresser top, Bear stooped to pick up the rookie’s uniform, removing the brass and pens from the shirt in preparation for the cleaners.  Finally, he slipped off the badge and held it tightly in his palm, tears again welling up in his eyes.

 

The weekend passed and, still, Manny wouldn’t talk about what had happened.  Everything else had appeared to be returning to normal, and Bear took pains not to bring up the matter of what occurred Friday night. 

Late Sunday night, Bear was readying a uniform for the next day when Manny walked into the bedroom.  “Manny, you want me to get a uniform set for you?” Bear asked.

“No, thanks.  I’ll get it,” Manny replied, reaching into the closet to pull out one of his uniforms.  He put the brass on the collar and the nametag over the right pocket.  Then, taking the badge, he hesitated.  He held it in his hand staring at it, tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks.  “I can’t.  I can’t do it, Bear.  It’s not right.”  He looked at Bear.  “I’m not fit to be a cop.”  Bear moved over and hugged the short Italian’s head to his chest.  “Manny, you’re more of a cop than most cops I know.  Talk to me, buddy.  I want to help, but you’ve got to talk to me.”

For the next thirty minutes, Manny related the story of what had occurred, as far as he could remember, on Friday morning up to the insertion of the suppository, and then everything blacked out.  Bear listened quietly as Manny recounted his ordeal, but the blood of anger burned in his cheeks.

“The tape,” Manny said hoarsely, “we’ve got to see what’s on the tape.”

The video cassette sat untouched on the dresser where Bear had placed it.  Removing the tape from its case, Manny slipped it into the VCR and watched as the screen flicked from a flat blue to an image of him stripping off his uniform.  The sound had been taken out, and the tape had obviously been edited as it quickly changed to Manny masturbating himself and licking up his cum from the floor.  The rest of the tape was edited highlights of his six hours in the cell ecstatically abusing himself, until finally collapsing unconscious to the floor in the corner.

They watched in silence as the image faded and snow appeared on the TV screen.  “Bear, that first part I had a weapon drawn on me.  The rest of it . . . I don’t even remember any of that.  I . . .”

“It’s okay, buddy.  I know.  I know.”  Bear held Manny’s head to his chest.  “We’ll get the fucker.  That’s a promise.”

Finally, the catharsis of getting the story out relieved Manny of a heavy burden.  Between the two of them, Manny and Bear could carry the load.  Bear looked into his buddy’s eyes, “Let’s go to bed,” he said softly.  That night they made deep, passionate, masculine love, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

* * * * *

 

It was a week later when Bear got the phone call from Bull.  At first Bear couldn’t make sense out of the raving voice on the other end of the line.  He had known Bull for quite a few years, but had never heard him like this.  After some gentle questioning, he was able to calm the impulsive muscleman enough to get the gist of what had happened.

“Wolf just told Stud and me last night, Bear,” Bull’s voice trembled slightly, “It happened a week ago, and he just told me last night.  He’s been acting so strange lately.  I want the cop’s ass that did this to him.  You gotta help me, buddy.”  Bull’s rate of speech began to speed up again, his voice taking on a slightly frantic edge.  “He won’t go to the police.  Says that it’s his word against the bastard’s, and he doesn’t know who to trust.  You’re his friend, Bear.  Please, can’t you help?”

Bear sat stunned after hearing the story of what had happened to Wolf.  Holding the phone numbly to his ear, a feeling of deja vu washed over him like a cold ocean wave.  “Bull, listen.  First, you’ve got to get control of yourself.  I want this fucking slime as bad as you do.  Believe me.  Get Wolf and Stud together and meet me at the bar tonight after shift. I’ve got something I have to tell you guys, too.  It’s important, Bull.” 

“Plus . . .,” he added with an enigmatic tone, “I’ve got a plan.”

 

And, so, it was a somber group that sat at the corner booth in the quiet neighborhood bar that night as Bear related the account of his lover’s ordeal at the hands of the maniac cop.  They all agreed that justice wasn’t going to be enough for this monster.  What was called for here was . . . revenge.

Broken world

The door slammed open, sending a gust of cold air rushing through the room. The trio of masked men stumbled in, their laughter echoing off the walls like a macabre symphony. Brandon caught off guard, barely had time to react before he found himself face-first on the floor, the remnants of his protein shake pooling around him. “Brandon!” Hunter’s panicked cry pierced the chaos as he and Joey bolted from the couch. Their brawny frames collided with the intruders in a flurry of fists and grunts. The sound of flesh smacking flesh and the squeak of wet sneakers against the linoleum filled the air. Yet, their valiant efforts were futile. The masked men, with a disturbing ease, overpowered the brothers, their muscles flexing with each successful countermove.

Bound and helpless, the three of them sat on the couch, panting from the exertion. Brandon’s eyes searched for any hint of recognition on the leader’s face, but all he found was the gleaming sneer of the snake tattoo peeking out from beneath the man’s collar. “What do you want?” he managed to ask through gritted teeth. The leader, amused by Brandon’s defiance, chuckled darkly.

“Oh, I think you know what we want,” the man said, his voice a sinister purr. He glanced over at the mess in the hallway, then back to the bound brothers. “But first, let’s get more… comfortable.”

The man with the snake tattoo, who introduced himself as ‘Vyper’, sauntered over to the TV stand. He grabbed the remote and turned it on, the flickering blue light casting eerie shadows on the wall. The channel was already set to a news report, the volume low but rising as Vyper cranked it up. The newscaster was discussing a recent string of burglaries in the area. The irony was not lost on Brandon.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones having fun tonight,” Vyper said, his eyes glinting with malicious intent.

“W-we aren’t…” Hunter stuttered, his gaze never leaving the intruder. The tension in the room thickened like a fog, the air charged with a mix of anger and fear.

Vyper’s laughter grew louder, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. “Oh, don’t be shy,” he said, his voice a serrated knife. “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Why us? Why our house?’ But let’s be honest, Brandon. You’re as easy to break into as a piñata at a kid’s birthday party.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching tightly. He wanted to spit out a witty retort, but the rage bubbling inside him was too potent to be contained by mere words.

“You think this is funny?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Oh, it’s hilarious,” Vyper said, his eyes gleaming. He stepped closer, the smell of leather and sweat surrounding him like a noxious cloud. “But let’s get down to business, shall we?”

The man named ‘Vyper’ had a certain flair about him, a twisted charisma that made Brandon’s skin crawl. His cohorts, ‘Knox’ and ‘Blitz’, grinned under their masks, their eyes glinting with anticipation. The TV blared in the background, and the news of local crime spikes an unwelcome soundtrack to their own personal horror.

Brandon’s muscles rippled under the tension of the ropes. Each bulge and contour of his physique was a testament to the hours he spent in the gym, sculpting his body into a fortress of strength. His broad shoulders heaved with the effort of his struggle, the sweat glistening on his bare chest like diamonds in the dim light. His abs, a washboard of determination, clenched as he tugged at his bonds, desperation etched into every line and curve. The rope bit into his skin, leaving angry red marks that stood out against his golden tan.

Hunter and Joey, bound on either side of him, mirrored Brandon’s plight. Hunter’s biceps bulged as he strained against his restraints, the veins in his arms popping with the effort. His chest rose and fell with deep, frustrated breaths, the muscles flexing with each indrawn gasp. Joey’s thighs, thick with power from his days on the football field, quivered with the tension of his struggle. His jaw was clenched tight, the cords in his neck standing out like ropes themselves.

Their bodies were a tableau of power and vulnerability, a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of their situation. The air grew thick with the scent of fear and adrenaline, their hearts thundering in their chests like a drumline at a high school football game.

Vyper circled them, his eyes raking over their forms with a hunger that was palpable. He paused in front of Brandon, reaching out to trace a finger along the ridge of Brandon’s abs. “You’re quite the catch,” he murmured, his voice a serpent’s hiss. “I can see why you thought you could take us.”

Brandon’s eyes shot to Vyper’s, the heat in them not entirely from anger. There was something there, a spark of something else, something that made his stomach clench and his breath hitch.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

Vyper’s smile grew wider, his teeth a flash of white in the shadows. “Just admiring the merchandise,” he said, his gaze lingering on Brandon’s crotch.

The room grew hotter, the tension ratcheting up a notch as the three men stared at each other, the air thick with something unspoken. Brandon felt a strange mix of fear and something else, something he didn’t dare put a name to. He could feel his cock stirring against the ropes, a traitorous response to the situation that had him blushing furiously.

“Now, now,” Vyper chuckled, “don’t be shy. We’re all friends here.” Brandon felt the ropes tighten around his wrists as he fought the urge to push away from Vyper’s touch. His cock was now fully erect, straining against the ropes that held him in place. It was humiliating, but there was also a thrill that he couldn’t deny. The ropes bit into his skin, leaving him feeling both helpless and strangely aroused.

Vyper leaned in closer, his breath hot on Brandon’s cheek. “You like this, don’t you?” he whispered. “The struggle, the fear, the thrill of the unknown.”

Brandon’s eyes met Vyper’s, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. There was something in those eyes, something that promised pain and pleasure in equal measure. The room spun around him, the boundaries of his reality blurring into something dark and intoxicating.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Joey snarled, his eyes flashing with a rage that was as potent as it was desperate. His words snapped Brandon out of his trance, and he realized with a start that the ropes were now cutting into his skin, drawing thin lines of crimson.

“Oh, I think he’s quite enjoying the attention,” Vyper said, his voice a purr that made Brandon’s stomach drop. “Aren’t you, Brandon?”

“I’m not…” Brandon began, but his voice trailed off as Vyper leaned in closer, his breath hot and sweet, like poisoned candy.

“Don’t lie to me,” Vyper whispered. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do.”

Brandon’s heart hammered in his chest, a cacophony of fear and unwanted desire. He couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through him as the ropes dug into his wrists, the pain only serving to heighten his arousal. It was like he was stuck in a nightmare and a wet dream at the same time.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Brandon stuttered, his voice cracking like a teenager’s at the sight of his crush.

Vyper leaned even closer, his clean-shaven face mere inches from Brandon’s. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he murmured, his breath warm and minty. “The way your body responds to fear. It’s… delicious.”

Hunter and Joey’s eyes were wide with shock, their jaws slack as they watched the scene unfold before them. They were both bound, but it was clear that Brandon was the main attraction.

“What do you want from us?” Joey demanded, trying to sound brave despite the tremor in his voice.

Vyper straightened up, his smile never leaving his face. “Oh, I think we’ll start with a little game,” he said, his eyes glinting with excitement. “A game of ‘who can make Brandon here squirm the most.”

The two other masked men, Knox and Blitz, chuckled, their eyes alight with anticipation. “You’re fucking sick,” Brandon spat, trying to pull away from Vyper’s grasp.

“Am I?” Vyper mused, stroking Brandon’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Or are you just discovering what you really crave?”

The room grew quiet as the tension mounted, the only sounds the heavy breathing of the three bound men and the distant sirens of a world that seemed a million miles away.

Vyper stepped back and addressed his companions. “Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the bound trio. “Let’s begin.”

Knox and Blitz approached, their eyes raking over the exposed flesh of their captives with hungry gazes. They each picked a target, Knox focusing on Brandon’s chest while Blitz moved towards Joey’s thighs.

Brandon’s eyes darted back and forth, his breathing erratic as he tried to anticipate their next move.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please…” Vyper leaned in again, his voice a seductive whisper. “You know you want it,” he said, his hand moving lower to brush against Brandon’s crotch.

Brandon’s eyes squeezed shut, his body betraying him as he gasped at the contact. He felt himself hardening even more, the ropes biting into his sensitive skin.

“Fuck you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. Vyper chuckled, his hand lingering on Brandon’s cock. “Such language,” he said, his voice a serrated whisper. “But I think we’re all on the same page here.”

Hunter and Joey watched, their eyes wide with shock and horror as the leader of the intruders began to stroke Brandon’s cock through the ropes. The sight was both erotic and terrifying, a dance of power and submission that none of them had signed up for.

“You’re disgusting,” Joey spat, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Am I?” Vyper said, his hand moving faster. “Or are you just jealous that your friend here is getting all the attention?”

Brandon’s eyes flew open, meeting Joey’s. The look on Joey’s face was a mix of rage and something else, something that made Brandon’s heart race even faster.

“Don’t do this,” Joey pleaded, his voice hoarse with fear.

“It’s okay,” Brandon murmured, his eyes never leaving Joey’s. “It’s just a game.”

But the game was quickly spiraling out of control. Knox and Blitz had begun to touch Hunter and Joey as well, their hands roaming over their bound bodies with a possessive hunger that left no doubt as to their intentions.

“You’re going to regret this,” Hunter growled, his eyes narrowing at Vyper.

“Oh, I think not,” Vyper said, his smile never faltering. “This is just the beginning.”

The room was a whirlwind of sensation, the pain from the ropes mixing with the pleasure of the men’s touches. Brandon could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his body begging for release even as his mind screamed for it to stop.

Vyper leaned in and whispered in Brandon’s ear, his breath hot and sweet. “You know you want it,” he said. “Just give in.”

Brandon’s eyes squeezed shut again, his hips bucking against the ropes. The pressure was unbearable, the need for release an all-consuming fire in his belly.

“P-please,” he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. Vyper chuckled, his hand moving faster. “There’s a good boy,” he cooed. “Just let go.”

The room grew hazy the intruder’s grunts fading into the background. All Brandon could focus on was the feeling of Vyper’s hand on him, the ropes biting into his skin, the heat building in his cock.

“I’m going to cum,” he gasped, his voice ragged.

“That’s it,” Vyper murmured, his hand tightening. “Cum for me, Brandon.”

And with a strangled cry, Brandon did just that, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. The ropes bit deeper into his skin, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made him dizzy.

The room went silent for a moment, the only sound the harsh panting of the three bound men. Then, as if on cue, the TV blared to life with a commercial for a new brand of protein powder, the jingle a grating contrast to the scene playing out in the room.

Vyper leaned back, a smug look on his face as he wiped his hand on Brandon’s stomach. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, let’s see what your friends have to offer.”

The other two masked men stepped forward, their hands moving to Joey’s and Hunter’s crotches. Brandon felt a pang of guilt, his own pleasure forgotten in the face of his friends’ suffering.

“Stop,” he begged, his voice hoarse. “Leave them alone.”

Vyper’s smile grew even wider. “Or what?” he taunted. “You’ll do what? Struggle some more?”

Brandon’s muscles strained against the ropes, but it was no use. He was helpless, a plaything for these men’s twisted games.

“Why are you doing this?” he gritted out through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady despite the tremor of fear that danced through him.

Vyper’s smile grew even wider. “Why not?” he said, his eyes glinting in the flickering light of the TV. “You’re all so… perfect.”

The word hung in the air like a curse, and Brandon felt a cold knot form in his stomach. Perfect for what?

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sweat and fear. The TV droned on in the background, the news of the outside world a distant memory. The only thing that mattered was the here and now, the ropes that bound him and the men who held his fate in their hands.

The two other intruders, Knox and Blitz, had moved to stand behind the couch, their eyes gleaming with excitement. Their hands roamed over Hunter and Joey, touching them in ways that made Brandon’s skin crawl.

“P-please,” Joey whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut. “Just let us go.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Vyper said, his voice a sultry whisper. “Not now that we’ve started.”

The touches grew bolder, more insistent, and Brandon watched in horror as his friends’ bodies responded despite their fear. He knew he should feel anger, outrage, but all he could feel was a strange mix of arousal and dread.

“You’re all mine now,” Vyper murmured, his eyes never leaving Brandon’s. “And we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Brandon’s heart raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Vyper leaned in and kissed him, hard and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of ownership, of dominance, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Brandon felt himself lean into it.

“You like it, don’t you?” Vyper murmured against his lips, his tongue slipping into Brandon’s mouth.

Brandon’s eyes snapped open, his body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. He didn’t know how to answer, his mind a jumble of emotions he didn’t dare let himself feel. He tried to jerk away, but Vyper’s grip was like iron, holding him in place.

Vyper’s eyes never left Brandon’s, his smile a wicked promise of things to come. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured, his hand moving down to cup Brandon’s cheek. “Your body’s telling me all I need to know.”

The bound man’s cheeks flushed, his breathing growing shallower. His abs tightened, each muscle standing out in stark relief as he fought against the ropes. His cock, still erect and sensitive from the earlier ministrations, throbbed painfully against the unforgiving material. It was as if his body was betraying him, responding to the unwanted touches with a hunger that made him feel dirty, ashamed.

Vyper’s touch was like a brand, searing through the layers of Brandon’s resistance. He felt the heat of the man’s hand on his skin, the calloused thumb circling his nipple, sending shivers down his spine. His body arched, trying to escape the contact, but the ropes held him firmly in place.

The ropes around Brandon’s wrists dug deeper into his flesh with each gasp he took. The pain was a strange, twisted symphony, playing in harmony with the erratic rhythm of his pulse. His muscles, honed from hours of lifting weights and pushing himself to the brink, were now a prison, trapping him in a dance of submission.

His chest heaved, each breath a silent scream of protest and a whispered plea for more. The feeling of Vyper’s calloused fingers on his skin was an abomination, a violation of the sanctity of his gym-crafted fortress. Yet, as the leader’s hand roamed over his abs, tracing the contours of his strength, Brandon’s body responded in ways that were as unwelcome as they were undeniable. The ropes had become a part of him, a serpentine lover that held him captive and teased him with its embrace.

Joey’s eyes darted to the side, where his own body was now the plaything of the masked men. The ropes that bound him were tight and unforgiving, but it was the sight of Brandon’s erection that had him truly struggling. His own cock, trapped in the confines of his shorts, had grown hard from the mix of horror and arousal that coiled within him like a venomous snake. He watched, transfixed, as the scene unfolded, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. The sight of Brandon, usually so stoic and in control, now reduced to a whimpering mess was both terrifying and… thrilling.

“You like watching, don’t you?” Knox’s gruff voice broke through Joey’s tumultuous thoughts. The man’s hand was now on Joey’s thigh, his fingers tracing the outline of his cock with a confidence that made Joey’s stomach clench. “I bet you want a turn.”

The fabric of Joey’s swim trunks grew taut, the head of his cock peeking out like a shy animal from its burrow. The room’s tension was a living entity, a vine wrapping around each of them, tightening with every breath they took. Joey’s eyes snapped to Knox, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

“T-touch me and you’re dead,” he stuttered, his voice a mix of fear and bravado. But the words came out in a breathy whisper, betraying the growing desire that thrummed through his veins.

Knox’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against Joey’s ear. “Oh, I plan on touching you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a seductive purr that made Joey’s stomach drop. “And you’re going to love it.”

Joey’s body tensed, the ropes digging into his wrists and ankles as he struggled against his captor. His cock, trapped in the damp fabric of his swim trunks, grew even harder as Knox’s hand moved closer to the bulge. He could feel the wetness seeping through the material, a silent testament to his arousal.

“St-stop,” Joey stammered, his voice shaking with fear and something else he didn’t dare name. But it was too late; Knox’s calloused fingers grazed the sensitive skin of his cock, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He gasped, his eyes flying open to meet the intruder’s gaze.

Knox smirked, his eyes dark with hunger. “See? You like it,” he said, his voice low and guttural. His thumb brushed over the tip of Joey’s cock, smearing precum through the fabric. Joey’s body tensed, a whimper escaping his lips.

“You’re sick,” Joey managed, his voice shaking.

Knox’s chuckle was like a knife twisting in Brandon’s gut as he watched his friend’s struggle. The outline of Joey’s cock grew more pronounced with each pass of the man’s hand, the fabric of his swim trunks growing darker with arousal. It was a sight that filled him with a confusing mix of pity and envy.

Blitz was a master of his craft, his eyes never leaving Hunter’s face as he began to stroke his legs. His touch was gentle at first, almost tender, but it grew more insistent, more possessive with every pass. The fabric of Hunter’s shorts grew taut as his cock grew harder, straining against the material.

“Don’t do this,” Hunter ground out, his voice thick with unshed tears. “Please.”

But the plea fell on deaf ears. Blitz’s eyes were alight with a hunger that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. He leaned in, his breath hot on Hunter’s neck, and whispered, “You know you want it.”

Vyper watched with a twisted smile as Knox and Blitz continued their ministrations. “You’re all so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes moving from one bound man to the next. “So strong, yet so… vulnerable.”

Brandon felt the ropes tightening around his chest, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. His eyes locked on Vyper’s, the leader’s touch now a brand, searing his skin with a need that was both unwelcome and overwhelming.

The door to the hallway stood open, a silent sentinel to the chaos that had invaded their home. The once-pristine space now a battleground of desire and fear. The intruders had brought with them a darkness that seemed to seep into every corner, tainting everything it touched.

Hunter’s eyes fluttered open, his pupils dilated with lust. “Stop,” he panted, his voice a desperate whisper. “Please…”

But the words fell away as Blitz’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, his fingers finding purchase on the velvety skin of his cock.

“Look at him,” Vyper said, his voice a low growl of approval. “He’s begging for it.”Joey’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting Brandon’s. The look that passed between them was one of understanding, of shared horror and helplessness. They were in this together, bound by more than just the ropes that held them captive.

Their world had narrowed to the couch, the TV, and the three men who held their fate in their hands. The outside world was a distant memory, the humdrum of their daily lives a fading dream.

Knox’s hand moved faster on Joey’s cock, the fabric of his swim trunks now soaked with precum. Joey’s whimpers grew louder, his body arching against the ropes that held him in place.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Knox murmured. “Cum for me, baby.”

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of desire. Brandon could feel the tension coiling within him, the need for release building like a crescendo. His eyes met Vyper’s, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Vyper’s smile grew even wider. “Oh, but you can,” he said, his voice a sultry promise. “And you will.”

The leader stepped back, his hand moving to the waistband of his own pants. He pulled out his cock, long and hard, and began to stroke it in time with Knox’s movements.

Brandon watched, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His body was on fire, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to process.

“Look at me,” Vyper said, his voice a command that Brandon couldn’t ignore.

The bound man’s gaze snapped to Vyper’s, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and something else, something he didn’t dare acknowledge. Vyper’s hand stroked his cock with a confidence that was as terrifying as it was arousing.

“You’re mine,” Vyper whispered, his breath hot against Brandon’s cheek. “You know it.”

Brandon’s body was a battleground, his muscles straining against the ropes as his mind waged war with his desires. He watched as Vyper’s hand moved faster and faster, the pressure building, the need for release becoming unbearable.

“C-can’t,” Brandon managed, his voice hoarse.

Vyper leaned in, his teeth grazing Brandon’s ear. “But you want to,” he murmured. “I can feel it.”

The room was a symphony of gasps and whimpers, the sound of flesh on flesh as Knox and Blitz continued to touch Joey and Hunter with an unrelenting hunger. The TV’s glow cast shadows over their bodies, the flickering light playing across the planes of muscle and the lines of fear etched into their faces.

“P-please,” Joey begged, his body trembling with each touch.

Knox’s chuckle was a dark symphony of pleasure and pain, his eyes never leaving Joey’s. “You’re so responsive,” he said, his voice a low purr.

Hunter’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth bared in a silent scream as Blitz’s hand moved faster. The ropes around his wrists had turned his skin a deep shade of red, the pain a stark contrast to the pleasure that flooded his veins.

“Look at them,” Vyper said, his hand still moving on Brandon’s cock. “They’re just like you.”

Brandon’s eyes darted to the side, watching his friends’ humiliation and arousal play out before him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, the sight of them bound and helpless sending a strange thrill through him.

“P-please,” Joey moaned, his voice thick with need.

“Please what?” Knox asked, his hand stilling for a moment. “Please stop, or please don’t?”

“D-don’t stop,” Joey whispered, his eyes flying open to meet Knox’s gaze.

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of desire and fear. The TV blared on, the sounds of the outside world a distant echo.

The room grew quiet, the only sound the heavy breathing of the three bound men. The TV’s volume seemed to swell, filling the space with the drone of the newscaster’s voice.

The irony of the situation was not lost on any of them, the safety of their home now a prison of ropes and fear.

“Ready, boys?” Vyper’s grin was wide, a predator’s smile as he produced three shiny devices from a black bag. They looked like a twisted cross between a medieval torture contraption and something you’d find in a sex dungeon. Chastity cages, designed to keep their manhood in check, taunted them with cold steel bars.

Knox and Blitz shared a look, their eyes gleaming with excitement as they approached the couch. The bound trio watched in horror as Vyper explained their next phase of torment. “These little beauties are going to ensure that none of you get any ideas about ruining our fun,” he said, holding up one of the devices. “They shrink your cocks down to size, so you can’t get hard unless we want you to.”

The very idea of it sent a shiver down Brandon’s spine. The thought of losing control over his own body was more terrifying than the ropes that held him captive. He watched as Knox and Blitz stepped closer, their movements deliberate and predatory.

“Don’t,” Brandon managed to murmur, his voice a desperate plea. “You don’t have to do this.”

Vyper’s smile never wavered as he approached the couch, the shiny devices glinting menacingly in the flickering TV light. “They shrunk their edging cocks to fit,” he announced, holding up one of the contraptions. The room grew even more tense, the air thick with the scent of fear and arousal as the three brothers stared in horror at the steel cages that would be their new prison.

Knox and Blitz stepped closer, the sound of their boots echoing through the room like the footsteps of fate. Joey’s eyes were wide with terror, his body trembling as he watched the intruders’ every move.

“You can’t do this,” he protested weakly, his voice a mere whisper.

Vyper’s laugh was a cold, cruel sound that sent a shiver down Brandon’s spine. “Oh, but we can,” he said, his voice a purr of dark amusement. “And we will.”

The leader stepped closer to Joey, holding out one of the chastity cages. “Let’s start with you, shall we?” he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Joey’s cock jerked at the mere mention of it, the ropes around his wrists cutting deeper into his skin as he struggled against them.

“N-no, please dont!”Joey stuttered, his eyes wide with fear never leaving the metal object coming towards him.

But resistance was futile. Knox stepped in and with surprising gentleness, Vyper took Joey’s cock in hand, guiding it into the cold steel contraption. The cage clicked into place, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

“It’s… it’s too tight,” Joey gasped, his eyes watering with pain the feeling of his throbbing cock pressed against the metal.

“It’ll get tighter if you try to get hard,” Vyper said, his smile widening. “Now, let’s see how well you can behave.”

He turned his attention to Hunter, his eyes raking over the bound man’s muscular form with a hunger that was palpable. “You’re next,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Hunter’s jaw was clenched tight, his body a taut bow of anger and fear. But the look in Vyper’s eyes told him that there was no escape, no quarter to be given. Hunter wanted to punch the man as he kneeled in front of his crotch, the feeling of vypers cold hand sent a shiver up Hunter’s spine followed by the cold metal sliding in shape of his hardened cock. His face turned tomato red seeing his manhood tightly locked with some groans and moans leaving his lips.

“And now,” Vyper said, turning to Brandon, “the star of our little show.”

Brandon’s body was a symphony of pain and need, his cock still hard from the earlier torment. He watched with a mix of dread and fascination as Vyper approached, the cage dangling from his fingertips like a macabre jewel.

“You can’t do this to me,” Brandon said, his voice stronger than before.

Vyper chuckled, his eyes never leaving Brandon’s. “Oh, but I can,” he said, his smile a dark promise. “And I will.”

Vyper’s eyes never left Brandon’s as he held up the final cage, a gleaming contraption that promised to imprison the very essence of his masculinity. “You see, this isn’t just about keeping you in line,” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet like a serpent whispering seductive lies. “It’s about showing you who’s in control.”

The chastity cage was cold against Brandon’s skin, a metallic kiss that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. His cock, still stubbornly erect despite his fear, twitched as Vyper’s fingers danced around the head, tracing the sensitive ridge before guiding it into the device. The leader’s eyes held his, a silent challenge, a silent question that Brandon couldn’t answer.

The cage clicked shut, the sound echoing in the room like a prison door slamming shut. The vibration started almost immediately, a low hum that grew in intensity, a promise of pleasure wrapped in pain. Brandon’s body jerked, his eyes rolling back in his head as a bead of precum leaked from his cock, a silent confession to the dark thrill that coursed through him.

“Ah,” Vyper murmured, his eyes on the glistening drop that clung to the head of Brandon’s trapped arousal. “It seems you’re already enjoying the show.”

Brandon’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering with defiance and despair. The contraption was a vice, a cold, unforgiving embrace that stole his voice and his pride. Yet, the vibrations grew stronger, the pulse of pleasure a silent taunt that seemed to resonate with every beat of his racing heart.

His eyes darted to the side, finding solace in the equally stricken gazes of his brother and friend however they were in the same state as him.

“We’re not animals,” Brandon managed through held back moans, each one harder then before.

Vyper chuckled, a low, throaty sound that seemed to resonate through the very floorboards. “Oh, but you are,” he said, his tone playful, yet laced with a deadly seriousness. “You’re all mine to play with, to enjoy.”

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing the outline of the cage that now encased Brandon’s cock. The vibrations grew stronger, a relentless pulse that seemed to sync with his racing heart. “And you will,” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet against Brandon’s ear.

Brandon’s muscles tensed every vibration, Vyper stood behind him on the couch with his arms extended over Brandon’s shoulder causing him to gasp when the hands reached his hardened pecs and nipples. “Don’t try to fight it Brandon just accept it” vyper whispered in his ear, his hand squeezing the prominent pec. “N-no” he finally spoke with a tired tone. “Oh we’ll break you soon enough and you’ll be singing a different tune” he said slowly increasing the power of the cage causing a hitch in Brandon breath.

His cock throbbed, a traitorous pulse that seemed to echo the beat of the TV’s soundtrack of despair. The cage was a vice, a reminder of the control that lay in the hands of the monster before him. Yet, with every pulse of the device, a bead of precum would form, a silent testament to the pleasure that was being wrung from his unwilling flesh.

Before long Hunter’s cock had began to leak pre-cum through the chasity which blitz enjoyed. He looked up at Hunter, his once curly black hair and perfect skin was now a sweaty mess. His bangs stuck to his forehead from sweat that had equally been on his upper body which was glowing under the living room lights. With a smirk blitz moved his hand under Hunter’s sweaty crotch and began to play with his balls “mmm fuck” Hunter moaned out “let go of me” he demanded only for blitz to increase his vibration power. The sound intensified causing Hunter to moan as blitz continued to arous the boy.

The bound man’s breath hitched, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his climax. The contraption was a living entity, a creature that feasted on his desire, growing stronger with every pulse of his trapped arousal. His eyes darted to his brothers, their own struggles mirrored in their expressions of fear and unwanted pleasure.

Vyper stepped back, his gaze raking over the trio like a connoisseur admiring a piece of fine art. “Now,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper, “let’s make some memories, shall we?”

With a twirl of his wrist, he produced a sleek, black camera, the lens gleaming in the flickering light of the TV. Knox and Blitz grinned, their eyes alight with excitement. This was part of the plan, the part they had all been waiting for.

Vyper approached Brandon first, his eyes gleaming with a dark anticipation. “Time for your close-up,” he murmured, his voice a caress that sent shivers down Brandon’s spine. He leaned in, the camera clicking away as he captured every inch of the bound man’s chest, the steel bars of the chastity cage framing his erect cock like a twisted piece of modern art.

“P-please,” Brandon gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. The vibrations had grown to an almost unbearable intensity, his body a tightly coiled spring of need.

“Look at me,” Vyper ordered, his voice a whip crack in the stillness of the room.

Brandon’s eyes snapped open, meeting Vyper’s gaze. The man’s eyes were like pools of ink, deep and impenetrable. The camera clicked away, a silent judge to Brandon’s humiliation.

“So pretty,” Vyper said, his voice a purr of satisfaction as he moved to Joey. “Now, let’s get some shots of you.”

Joey’s eyes were wide with fear, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The cage around his cock was already slick with precum, the vibrations making him squirm in his bonds. Knox stepped closer, his hand moving to trace the line of Joey’s jaw, tilting his head just so.

“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against the corner of Joey’s mouth. “It’s just a little game.”

The camera flashed, capturing the moment of Joey’s submission, the look of fear and arousal that danced across his features. It was a twisted dance of power and control that played out in the stark light of the flash.

And then it was Hunter’s turn. Blitz moved closer, his hand lingering on the steel bars of the chastity cage. “You’re a feast for the eyes,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

Hunter glared, his jaw clenched tight. But the vibrations were too much, the pleasure too intense. His body arched, a silent scream of need that was caught on film forever.

The room was a cacophony of clicks and whirs, the camera a silent witness to their degradation. The TV blared on, the news of the outside world a stark contrast to the scene playing out before it.

Vyper moved back, admiring his handiwork. The bound men were a tableau of pain and pleasure, their muscles straining against the ropes that held them in place.

“You’re all so… delicious,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Now, let’s get some more intimate shots.”

The camera was passed to Knox as Vyper began to undo the ropes that held Brandon’s arms to the couch. The bound man’s eyes widened in panic, his body tensing as he was repositioned, his cock standing at attention despite the cage.

“W-what are you doing?” Brandon stammered, his voice a broken whisper.

Vyper’s smile was a crescent moon in the dark sky of the room. “It’s almost dawn,” he said, his eyes never leaving Brandon’s. “And we wouldn’t want to miss the sunrise, would we?”

With the grace of a predator stalking its prey, Vyper moved around the couch, the camera capturing every moment in stark, unforgiving detail. The light from the TV cast an eerie glow over the scene, painting the three men in shades of blue and grey.

Blitz and Knox watched with hungry eyes as Vyper worked, their own desires a silent symphony playing out across their faces. The leader was a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of pain and pleasure that had the three muscular men at his mercy.

“W-what are we doing?” Brandon’s voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes darting around the room. The walls seemed to close in around him, the TV’s flickering light casting long shadows across the floor.

Vyper leaned in, his breath a sweet caress against Brandon’s neck. “We’re going for a little ride,” he murmured, his voice a dark melody that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of Brandon’s bones.

The bound trio was hoisted to their feet, the ropes cutting into their skin as they were led out of the house. The night air was cool against their sweat-slicked skin, a stark contrast to the heat of their arousal. They were marched to a van parked on the street, its sides a matte black that seemed to swallow the light.

The back of the van was cold, the metal floor sending chills up their spines. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of the house they had been torn from, the safety they had once known. The door slammed shut with a finality that was as cold as the metal walls surrounding them.

Vyper took a seat on a bench at the side of the van, the camera still in hand. “Now, let’s get you ready for your debut,” he said, his voice a sultry promise of what was to come.

With a flick of his wrist, he produced a handful of dirty socks. The fabric was rough against Brandon’s mouth as he was gagged, the taste of sweat and fear mingling with the cotton. Joey and Hunter were next, their own muffled protests cut off as their mouths were filled with the fabric that had once been a part of their daily lives.

The van jolted to life, the engine’s roar a cacophony that seemed to swallow their whimpers. Through the small one-way glass window, the world outside passed by in a blur, a silent testament to their new reality.

The drive was an eternity, the vibrations from the cages a constant reminder of their predicament. Their world had shrunk to the confines of the metal box, the TV’s drone now replaced by the rumble of the road beneath them.

“Almost there,” Vyper said, his voice a whisper of anticipation. The van slowed, the sound of gravel crunching under the tires as it pulled to a stop.

The door slid open, the cold night air rushing in like a lover’s embrace. Blitz stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ready for the main event?” he asked, his voice a harsh rasp.

Vyper nodded, a predatory smile playing on his lips. “Always,” he said, his eyes never leaving Brandon’s.

The men were led out of the van, their legs unsteady from the lack of movement. They were in a clearing, the trees standing tall around them like silent sentinels. The moon cast a silver glow over the scene, bathing everything in a soft, ethereal light.

The cabin loomed ahead, a medium-sized structure that seemed to have been plucked from a postcard and placed in the heart of the woods. It was a simple affair, with wooden walls that had seen better days and a shingled roof that whispered secrets to the wind. The windows were shuttered, giving no clue as to what lay within.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the floor cold and unforgiving beneath their bare feet. The cabin was sparse, a single room with three chains attached to the walls. The walls themselves were adorned with various implements of pleasure and pain, a twisted gallery that seemed to pulse with malicious intent.

They were positioned, each on a wall, the chains clanking as they were secured. Their eyes met across the room, a silent conversation of fear and resilience. The ropes around their wrists and ankles had been replaced with metal shackles, cold and unforgiving.

Vyper approached Brandon first, the camera in his hand a silent promise of what was to come. “Goodnight, my dear,” he whispered, his eyes a dark abyss of mirth and malice. His thumb hovered over the button that controlled the vibrations, the anticipation in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. 

With a flick of his thumb, the device came to life, the buzzing a sinister lullaby that seemed to resonate through the very bones of the cabin. Brandon’s eyes widened, his body jerking at the sudden onslaught of sensation. The vibrations grew stronger, the cage a relentless machine that sought to wring every drop of pleasure from his unwilling body.

Hunter and Joey watched in horror, their own cages pulsing in sync with Brandon’s. The sound of the devices filled the room, a symphony of pain and pleasure that seemed to crescendo with every passing second.

Vyper leaned in, his breath warm against Brandon’s ear. “Sleep tight,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.” Leaving the boys in the darken room, the only sound of their heavy breathing the buzzing breaking the silence.

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thanks for reading! Please comment what you think/ think I need to work on:) I’m trying to get better writing these and anything helps!!

In the quiet stillness of a college bathroom, the only sound was the muffled ticking of a clock echoing off the tiles. The stall door creaked shut behind Zach, a sophomore with a secret craving for solitude during lunch break. His heart thudded in his chest as he locked himself in, a sense of illicit excitement swirling in his stomach. He had stumbled upon this place a few weeks back and had found it an ideal spot to sit all by himself with all those budding desires he hadn’t learned to understand as yet.

He pulled out his cell phone and opened his favorite browser, his thumbs flying across the screen. Images loaded, and his eyes grew wide, breathing shallow. The surge of blood to his groin was a familiar sensation now-a daily craving he could not resist. The bathroom stall was his sanctuary, where he could explore urges without fear of judgment or discovery.

The cold floor beneath his feet, he unzipped his pants, letting his hardening cock spring free. He took a deep breath, eyes glued on the screen, and began stroking himself. The feel of the hand around his shaft was almost more than he could bear; his body was responding eagerly to what was in front of him. The bathroom was empty, the sounds of the college a distant murmur, allowing him the privacy he needed for such a solitary act of pleasure.

With the phone in one hand and the other working his cock, Zach felt the pressure build. The strokes grew harder and quicker, as with each one, his need for release grew stronger. The heavy breaths got caught in his throat and sent his breathing ragged. He was so into his tiny world that he didn’t even hear the bathroom door open or the steps approaching the cubicle next to him. It wasn’t until he heard the metallic click of the lock that he came out of his spell, his heart pounding against the inner linings of the rib cage, like a caged bird wanting to get out.

The man’s voice was gruff and surrealistically calm. “Take that tape off the wall, kid,” he instructed, pointing to the spot above the toilet paper dispenser where a small strip of tape was holding something in place. The suddenness of the demand sent a shock through Zach; his eyes darted to the wall, then back to the phone clutched in his trembling hand. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There, behind the tape, was a perfectly cut hole in the wall, no bigger than a fist.

His cock emerged from the hole before Zach could even process what was happening. Thick and veiny, precum glistened at the tip. The view was so close, so real, and it was terrifying and exhilarating. The only one present had his mind bursting with questions. His body moved quite on its own. He hesitantly wrapped his hand around the shaft of the stranger, feeling blood pulsate against his fingertips, the soft skin hot beneath his fingers. At the touch, the man sucked in a quick breath through clamped teeth-the soughing sound in which relief was deeply threaded with anticipation.

The scent of male arousal now replaced the faint odors of disinfectant and filled the small stall. Zach’s own cock throbbed painfully against his stomach as he began to stroke the man’s cock, tentatively at first. But it wasn’t long before the stranger’s soft instructions and the small noises of pleasure he was making had him with a rhythm that seemed instinctive. A hand reached over the partition, ghosting over Zach’s shoulder before finding his cheek. He finally looked up; their eyes locked in one fleeting, fervent stare, irises enlarged by lust.

The stranger leaned in further into him, his cock deep inside Zach’s mouth by now. It was salty, a completely alien feel that was thrillingly so. He sucked, his tongue learning this new topography while the man’s cock continued to swell even further. He could feel tension rise around him, desperate need for release building between them. His own cock ached, hard in the confines of his pants, begging for attention. The man’s hand tangled tighter in his hair, urging him deeper, and Zach felt the beginnings of the climax. He moaned around the intrusion, his arousal spiraling out of control. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t want it to stop. The man’s breathing became more and more irregular, his hips bucking, and then, with a low groan, he came, the hot fluid filling Zach’s mouth.
 
Zach swallowed. The salty taste lingered in his mouth, and he had never felt so alive, so alive with fear mixed with excitement. The man’s hand fell away, and Zach’s own hand reached out to the wall, finding the slip of paper the stranger had left behind. He pulled it closer, his heart racing as he read the scrawled phone number. The realization that this was more than just a random encounter settled in his stomach, a thrill mixed with a hint of dread. What had he just done? What would happen if anyone found out?

He heard the man zip himself up and then leave the stall; the door swung open and shut with a swooshing sound in the tiny cubicle. Alone again, Zach could hardly believe the turn of events. His hand was trembling as he placed his cock in the gloryhole, feeling the cool air kiss his sensitive skin. The thought of another person touching him, someone who knew what he liked, who wanted him, was almost too much to handle. He stroked himself, his thoughts racing, the phone forgotten in his pocket.

As he reached his own climax, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. A wave of white heat washed over his vision, and he bit into his lower lip hard in an attempt to stifle the sounds of his release. The semen finally reached its end, ejecting onto the wall and the floor with a wet sound that seemed to echo within the empty bathroom. He took a moment to catch his breath, heart racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He knew he had to keep it all inside, not sharing with his friends, not with his parents, and not even with his therapist. It was his secret, a dirty, thrilling secret that he would hold close to his chest, a memory to replay in his mind when he was alone in his room at night, under the covers with his hand wrapped around his cock.

When the tremors finally ceased, Zach tucked himself back into his pants and flushed the evidence of his encounter away. He stepped out of the stall, his legs shaky, and washed his hands. He studied his reflection in the mirror-a flush on his cheeks, a glazed look in his eyes. He was. different. As if he crossed some invisible line, some threshold, which could never be uncrossed. As he came out of the bathroom, the slip of paper in his pocket seemed to burn a hole through his jeans-a silent promise of more encounters to come. And deep inside, a part of him was already looking forward to the next time.

Days passed, the encounter etched in his memory, a secret thrill that made his heart race every time he thought about it. The number on the paper burned a hole in his pocket, a silent beacon of his newfound desire. One evening, after his parents had gone to bed and the house was still, Zach found himself unable to resist the siren call. His hand shook with anticipation as he sent a tentative text to the mysterious number, the words seeming to burn in fire on the screen of his phone.

Moments later, a video message popped up – grainy, the lighting poor, but unmistakable: a hand large and rough wrapped around a thick cock, stroking it with an expert ease that made his mouth water. The man’s face was hidden, but the sight of his cock was enough to get him hard again. He watched the video, his own hand moving to mirror the motions on the screen, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. The man in the video was watching him; he could feel it, even though he couldn’t see his eyes.

It ended with a simple question: “Ready for more?” A question, yes, but somehow it sounded to him now like an order. His body seemed to be going into overdrive, stirring with an intensity that scared and excited him in equal measure. He hit reply, fingers flying across the keyboard now with the same urgency that had propelled him into the bathroom stall that fateful day. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of his room.

The next day, the messages flowed more frequently and even more explicitly. This was a man who knew his liking, it would seem, with videos and images that caused his cock to throb with need. They didn’t speak, not with words. There was only the silent language of desire, a give-and-take of visual cues and response that made Zach crave this stranger’s touch.

And then, one day, the instructions arrived: to be in the same bathroom stall, at the same time, prepared for another meeting. Zach’s feeling was one of trepidation threaded by a dark edge of fear. He knew not what this might entail, but knew he was unable to pull away. There was an attraction forbidden here, a promise of pleasure, he just couldn’t deny.

He arrived at college with a knot in his stomach, the slip of paper feeling like a hot coal against his skin. Throughout the day, he was a wreck, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and images that made it impossible to focus on anything else. When lunchtime finally rolled around, he practically sprinted to the bathroom, his heart in his throat.

The stall was empty, just like before. He took a deep breath and stepped inside; the door clicked shut behind him, the sound final, like a seal on his fate. The tape was gone, the hole in the wall now a silent invitation. His hand shook as he reached for his zipper, his mind racing with what was to come. This was it-the moment he had been both dreading and craving. He pulled out his phone, ready to play his part in this twisted dance that had begun, unsure whether he would be taking another step into the dark new world or if it was all about to come crashing down around him.

The thought was unbearable, a heady cocktail of fear and lust that had him on the edge of his seat. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, even though he was invisible. The thought of being watched, used, sent a thrill of terror through him, yet it only made him harder. He positioned himself in front of the hole, his cock standing proud, a silent offering to the stranger beyond. He waited, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the air in the stall feeling thick with anticipation.

And then, it happened. A hot, wet mouth closed over his shaft, sucking him in with a greed that made him moan aloud. The sensation overwhelmed him, so much better than his own hand, so much more.real. He couldn’t believe this was happening again, that he was letting it happen again. But he couldn’t stop, the pleasure too strong. He bucked his hips, driving deeper into the anonymous mouth, hands braced on the wall to keep from falling.

The mouth worked him expertly, stranger knowing just how to coax the most exquisite sensations from his body. He could feel the man’s breath upon his skin, the slight scrape of teeth against his sensitive flesh. His eyes rolled back in his head, his vision swimming with stars. The world outside the stall, the college, his life-all of it faded away, leaving only this moment of pure, carnally driven need. He was lost in it, consumed by it, and he didn’t care if he was never found.

The orgasm hit him like a freight train, and his body arced, his toes curling as he shot his load into the waiting mouth. He felt the man swallow, the tightness around his cock releasing as the stranger pulled away, leaving him panting, his knees weak, and his mind hazed with both pleasure and confusion. He did not know how much more of it he could or wanted to take.

He opened his eyes, and the stall was once more empty. The only thing that told of what had just happened was the mess on the floor and the number in his pocket, a constant reminder of his secret life. He cleaned up as well as he could, his heart racing as he checked the time. He needed to get back to class, needed to act like everything was normal. But the moment he stepped out into the harsh fluorescent light, all he could think about was when he was going to return to that stall, when he was going to feel that mouth again.

The rest of the day blurred in a sort of haze as his mind played and replayed the encounter in an endless loop. The feel of the man’s cock, the taste of his cum, the way his own body had responded so readily. And then, just as the final bell was about to ring, his phone buzzed in his pocket. From an unknown number, but he knew exactly who this would be. “Meet me in Mr. Richardson’s classroom after college,” it said. His heart skipped a beat. Was this some kind of setup? A cruel joke? Or was it the man from the bathroom, taking their encounters to the next level?

He approached the classroom with trepidation, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if someone saw him? What if this was some sort of trap? But this need to know, this need to experience more of that forbidden thrill, was more powerful than fear. He opened the door and stepped inside; his gaze was immediately riveted to the figure sitting on the teacher’s desk. It was Mr. Richardson, the normally disapproving face now twisted into a sly smile, his body completely bare.

His teacher’s naked form was surreal, his cock already hard and pointing to Zach like some sort of silent accusation. He felt shocked and aroused, his own cock stirring in his pants. “You’ve been a good boy,” Mr. Richardson said, his voice low and gravelly, “but now it’s time to graduate to something more. advanced.”

Zach’s eyes widened as it finally dawned on him. He had always had a crush on his teacher, but this was beyond anything he had ever imagined. His heart thudded in his chest as he took in the sight before him: the muscles of Mr. Richardson’s chest, the trail of hair leading down to his cock, the way his thighs were spread in unmistakable invitation.

Mr. Richardson leaned back, his hand idly stroking his shaft as he watched Zach with a predatory gaze. “Come here,” he instructed in a low, commanding voice. The teenager took a shaky step forward, his hand moving to his own zipper like it was pulled by an invisible thread. He knew he should be running, screaming, but instead, his body betrayed him, moving of its own accord.

He knelt before the desk, the coolness of the floor a stark contrast to the heat of his own body. The tip of Mr. Richardson’s cock was right in front of his face, and without a second thought, he leaned in and took it into his mouth. The taste was different than the stranger’s-familiar and yet forbidden. He sucked hard, feeling the man’s cock swell even further as he did so. The hand in his hair was firm, guiding him, pushing him to take more.

And then, something completely different happened. Mr. Richardson was clenching the grip to his hair tighter, while some warm flow splashed back to his throat, and gagging, he felt when such a hand would not slack. He swallowed it with the mouth complete with some sort of the most bitter flavor from piss, watering the eyes. Nevertheless, the look of utmost satisfaction on the teacher’s face drove him further, suckling intently, though one’s dick groaned pressed inside the pants.

And when he finally pulled back, his cock was slick and shining with both cum and piss. “Good boy,” he said in a husky murmur and began stroking Zach’s head like a hound. “Now, it’s your turn.”

Zach’s hands were shaking as he undid his own pants; his cock sprang free, and the man leaned in, mouth watering at the sight of the young, eager flesh. He took it in his hand, stroking it gently, then leaned back, spreading his legs wider. “Ride me,” he ordered, his voice gruff with desire.

Without further ado, Zach climbed onto the desk, straddling his teacher’s hips, shaking his legs in anticipation. He felt the tip of Mr. Richardson’s cock against his opening, the pressure as he sank down onto him. The hurt was sharp, melding with the pleasure into a sensation so fierce that he could hardly breathe. The man’s hands were on his hips, guiding him, pushing down harder, filling him up completely.

He began to move, hips rising and falling on the cock that now owned him. The friction was exquisite, this feeling of being so utterly filled unlike anything he had ever felt. The room spun around him; his eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, trying to hold back his moans. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right. He felt the orgasm building and his cock slap against Mr. Richardson’s stomach every time he pressed down.

The rhythm quickened, frenzied, silent symphony of the body that moved in concurrence with lust. The desk creaked to and fro under the weight of them both, smells of sex and sweat building in the enclosed space. With one final desperate push, Zach let himself come, and his seed spat forth, painting the teacher’s stomach. Mr. Richardson wasn’t far behind, his hips bucking up to meet Zach’s as his cock pulsed deep inside the boy he had claimed as his own.

As they both came down from the high, panting and sweaty, Zach couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride. He had done it; he had taken that final step into the dark world of desire that called to him. He had no idea where this would lead him, but one thing was for sure: he was ready for more, ready to let in the taboo that filled his mind. But how far would he go to satisfy this new hunger?

A New Home

The two flats were lovely, both situated in quite grand buildings, once magnificent Town Houses for the titled wealthy, but neither felt right to us. The mews house — Eli described it as a cottage — was different. It was right at the end of the mews and had a small garden enclosed by a high wall on three sides and the house on the fourth. The lower floor had once been the stable for around six horses, and the upper floor accommodation for the grooms. At right angles to the house, and linking it to the other houses on this side, was a garage, where there had been a coach house. This had been given an upper storey which now housed the master bedroom, with the en suite bathroom in the main part of the house.

“There you go. Master bedroom, two bathrooms and two small bedrooms or study rooms if you like, living room, dining area, kitchen and guest toilet downstairs.” Eli watched us. “What do you think?”

The whole place was newly refurbished. Everything, including the kitchen fittings newly installed and smelling of newness. The floors on the ground floor were heavy paving tiles and upstairs the floors were all heavy planking. There was no furniture.

“I like it.” Butch said, taking my hand. “The flats were nice, but this place …”

“It feels like us.” I completed his sentence. “But I have a horrible feeling it’s way beyond our price, Eli.”

“Let’s go downstairs, and have a talk,” Eli retorted. “It’s been almost completely rebuilt. There was a bad fire here a few years ago and I acquired the burned out shell.” We entered the living room with its wide French windows onto the garden area. “Some of the Phoenix boys have been working on it when things were quiet.” Grinning he winked. “One way of using up leftovers and salvaged materials. Anyway … it belongs to me, so I’m the seller if you’re buying.”

“Hang on, Eli. This place is fabulous, and we love it, but it must be worth a mint at current property prices, I looked up properties in this area, and a place like this is about four times what we can afford,” I stopped as he held up a hand.

“Yeah yeah, it would be if I wanted to flog it to some well-healed dickhead. I’d fleece him. But I’m not. I’m offering it to you guys. Now, how much can you afford?”

Butch and I had discussed our finances carefully. With our salaries — mine being bigger — the money had had, and still occasionally earned from posing for Eli, the royalties I got from writing for both the Vulcan and its related publications, and from Pegasus for the short stories I wrote for them, we’d struggle to put together the deposit to qualify for a mortgage. We told him what we had in the bank as a deposit.

“More than enough.” Pushing himself upright, he said, “I’ll see a man I know and we’ll agree a mortgage for you. Now, you’ll need some furniture as well. Work out what you need and we’ll see what we can sort out.” 

He was moving too fast for us, and we both tried to stop him. Butch got in first.

“Hold on, Eli, you haven’t told us how much you’re selling for, and you’ve already given us a hell of a lot more than we’ve ever asked for or earned …”

“Bullshit, first the price is what I decide it is, and I’ll work it out with Mark and the bank, but your deposit will be enough to cover around twenty-five percent. The repayments we can manage from there. As for the furniture, there’s the never-never for some things and there’s a few things you won’t need to buy.” Holding up a hand, he added, “Don’t argue, one day you’ll have the chance to help some kids like you, or maybe some old gits who’ve helped you get started. One hand washes the other see, and there’s always someone needs a hand up. Now let’s go get some coffee and talk about how you want to manage your house buy.”

At home in our bed, I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. Next to me, Butch propped himself on one elbow and ran his other hand over my chest. Things had moved fast since we’d viewed the Mews house, and we were now waiting for the final legal formalities to be concluded. 

“Penny for your thoughts, love?” Butch asked softly.

“Probably not worth a penny, love,” I replied, smiling up at him as I put my hand over his and held it to my chest. “I was just thinking how lucky we are to have Eli and Mark and the other Bogtown Rats as friends. They’re rough and tough, but I can’t think of anyone I know that’s half the people they are.”

“That’s true.” Looking thoughtful, he teased my nipple with his fingers. “They’ve kind of adopted us. I mean, Eli and Mark … they’ve shared things with us I don’t think they’ve shared with anyone other than maybe Mick and perhaps Kat …”

“Speaking of Kat … did you know his Mum ran that furniture shop?”

“No. But hell, I’m not going to object to her supplying that lounge suite, or the bed.” Butch lowered himself half onto me and kissed me. “Or the little gifts the rest of the guys have given us.” He paused. “What I can’t figure out is how we got this lucky.”

“I doubt we ever will.” I worked my arms around him and kissed his lips. “How do you feel about Eli’s suggestion to pay off the difference in our deposit and the utilities deposits …”

“You mean that we do a photo shoot with Kat for a bondage spread?” He grinned. “I’ve no problem with it. I wonder what he has in mind?”

“Who knows.” Laughing, I studied his face. “Kat’s bloody creative when it comes to bondage.” Hugging him, I grinned. “You know, I think I’m ready for some more of the loving you were doing to me earlier.”

“Getting greedy, my love?” Butch’s hand gripped my stiffening cock. “Mmm, now I think of it, I need another dose. Sixty-nine?”

“You got it.” Changing position, I located his erection and kissed the tip of his cock, then began to enjoy it as he began to give mine a good workout. Taking our time, we focused on simply enjoying making love to each other. Butch was a real artist at giving head like this, and he knew how to build me up and keep me just on the edge without bringing me to ejaculate.

I loved it, and I loved reciprocating. More than anything I loved submitting myself to his caresses and sexual needs, and he to mine. We’re both, if anything, bottoms, me probably more than he, and we switch roles according to who leads. It also makes our occasional games with Eli, Mark and a couple of the other Bogtown Rats all the more enjoyable since we can then both submit and enjoy whatever our friends want to do with us. 

Now, having brought each other off for the second time since we’d gone to bed, Butch spooned into my back, wrapped me in his arms and whispered, “Sleep well, my love. Only another couple of weeks, and we’ll be in our new home …” 

 Mews Cottage was a big step up from the ‘porn set’ flat above Vulcan Rubber Supplies. Suddenly we had a bedroom large enough for a queen sized bed and nightstands, but a whole wall of cupboards and a small sofa. And then there were the two small ‘bedrooms’, one now my study, and the other, at Butch’s insistence, our ‘playroom’. The living room, with its large window and French window opening onto a patio and the garden now boasted a sofa and easy chairs, occasional tables and a television. There was also a hifi Mick ‘just happened to no longer need …’

“Have we got everything for the party, love?” Butch asked hugging me from behind as I finished setting out the snacks on our refurbished dining room table. Our only ‘new’ furniture was our mattress, almost everything else was refurbished and came from Kat’s Mom and connections with second-hand dealers and friends who did magnificent refurbishing and reupholstering. 

“If we haven’t, it’s too late now, Gorgeous.” I retorted, pressing my butt against his bulge. “Think we have enough beer and wine for the guys?”

“I hope so!” His hand gripped my crotch and he kissed my neck. “I still can’t believe that this is ours! Our home, our house …” Kissing my neck again, he bit my earlobe. “And I’ve got the sexiest, most beautiful man in Fenchester as my partner …”

Twisting myself round in his arms, I put my arms round his waist, and said, “You say the nicest things.” Our mouths met and we kissed. “But you’re wrong about one thing … I’ve got the most beautiful man in my arms.”

The doorbell sounded, and we both laughed and said together, “You’re the man of the house …” In a fit of laughter we released each other, and I said, “Go on, you’re closer to the door!”  

Planting another kiss, Butch grinned, and released me. “Don’t go away …”

Watching him move to the door, I thought, not for the first time, that he moved like a ballet dancer, gracefully, with an awareness of every muscle as he moved. Even doing something as mundane as opening a door was done with artistic, yet masculine, grace.

Our first guests were Mark in his wheelchair, and Eli, but from then on it was a steady stream of arrivals until we were spilling onto the patio and all the Bogtown Rats were assembled. 

My father arrived early and, after a moment of awkwardness when he discovered that one of the guests was someone he’d arrested and sent to jail early in his career. He ended up accepting a hug and the guy’s thanks for setting him on the road to finding his feet.  Everyone had brought some small gift, from Carlos and Angelo a framed collage of us modelling characters from the illustrated novels and the catalogues, from Eli and Mark an original painting for the living room, from others, wine, or things they’d chosen to be amusing, or useful for us. 

Letting Butch show them round the house, I concentrated on ensuring everyone had a drink and something to eat and enjoyed the teasing and conversation. It was hard work, but enjoyable. These folk were fun, different, rough diamonds, but with hearts of gold, and they were, as friends, worth more than their weight in gold. 

“Come and sit down for a minute, Penn.” Mark’s quiet request was accompanied by a touch on my arm. “You’ve done a magnificent job, but you need to relax and enjoy yourself too.” He waved a hand at the others, and grinned. “They know where the food is, and the booze. They can look after themselves now.”

“Thanks.” Taking a perch on the arm of the sofa he’d parked next to, I joked, “I must admit, I need to take the weight off my feet for a bit.” 

“Good. Got a drink?” 

“Somewhere!” Laughing, I admitted, “I must have four or five glasses of wine I’ve poured and put down somewhere. Would you like another?” I made to stand , and he pushed me back down. 

“I’m ahead of you.” From his chair he produced a clean glass and a bottle of the wine I’d put out. Pouring a measure he handed it to me, then poured another measure for himself, before pushing the bottle back into it’s hiding place. “Here’s to you and Butch and your new home.”

“What do you think of it, Mark?”

“You boys have done well for yourselves.” Patting my knee he winked. “When Eli told me about the first time you modelled for him, and how Butch hadn’t told you exactly what he wanted to do with the pictures … well, I thought Butch might have bullied you into it.” Watching my response, he smiled over the rim of his glass. “Eli thought so too — and almost sent you packing. Then he saw Butch’s face when you agreed to go ahead.” His hand gripped my knee. “You were what Butch needed to keep him from doing something stupid — and the bonus was who you were as far as Eli an’ me were concerned.”

“Butch was my dream lover all through school …” Watching Mark’s face, I said, “I was shitting myself that night, in case anyone recognised me … but once I saw Butch …” A laugh escaped me. “All my fantasies handed to me, in skintight rubber. I couldn’t say no, and I have absolutely no regrets.” Taking a drink from my wine, I asked, “Why was Eli looking out for Butch?”

“He was a stray. Just luck that Kat and Jonas saw what was happening and took him to Eli. Eli has always had a soft spot for strays.” His grin widened. “How’s the book going?”  

The abrupt change of subject threw me for a moment. Then I grinned. “It’s with our editing team. They’re ripping it apart I’m sure, and I’ll have a lot of rewriting to do. But they’ve asked me to consider a sequel to it, so it can’t be that bad.” I looked up as Eli joined us, his hands gripping Mark’s shoulders from behind. “And it’s all thanks to you guys. We can honestly never thank you enough.”

“Bullshit.” Eli put in. “You don’t give yourselves enough credit.” Winking at me, he added, “We just steered you and a few things from time to time. You want to thank us? Do the same for lads like yourselves sometime.”

It was well after midnight when Butch and I finally fell into bed, Eli’s injunction to ‘do the same for other lads like us’ still in mind. 

“Our own bed, in our own home.” Slipping my leg over his as my hand found his nipple, I kissed him gently, my hardening cock against his hip. “I can’t believe how lucky we are.”

“Don’t jinx it.” His kiss cut me off. “To use Eli’s expression — we landed with our arses in the butter.” Kissing me again, his tongue explored my mouth. “Just let’s count our blessings, and spread a little of the luck when the chance comes …”

 “I agree.” My hand found his erection and I turned on my side. “In the meantime … I think we need to celebrate …”

“An invitation I can’t refuse …” 

We took our time, enjoying each other’s body.

Cody returned a minute later with a hand towel and gave it to James, who accepted it with an awkward nod of thanks and began to wipe his stomach and chest of the mess he’d made. As he drug the towel across his pubic hair, he became aware of the fact that Cody was still watching him, a look of cool observation on his face.

“You okay?” James asked, dropping the towel on the floor beside him. 

Cody nodded rapidly as if shaking himself out of a stupor. “Yeah, just…I don’t know, watching you.”

“Yeah?” James tried to stifle a blush. “Well, I hope you enjoy the view.” He reached down and collected his shorts off the rug, pulling them on quickly. “Can you hand me my sweatshirt?” He asked Cody, gesturing to the couch behind him. 

Cody obliged and watched James pull it over his head. The two stood there, a thick silence between them. “So…” James finally began. “Are you cool with what just happened?” 

“Yeah,” Cody nodded, a faint glimmer of a smile lighting his face. “Yeah, for sure. It was…fun. Are you?”

“Yeah,” James nodded. “Just another Saturday afternoon for me.”

Cody laughed at that one, a loud, surprised, earnest laugh, and all the tension evaporated. “I’m sure it was,” he rolled his eyes. “You ready for dinner ? I’m getting hungry.”

“God yes,” James said enthusiastically. “Let me wash up real quick and I’ll help.” 

He ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, turning on the faucet and taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still flushed, and a bit of hair stuck to his forehead from where he’d broken out in sweat. He looked like he’d just been ravished. To be fair, he had.

The intensity of this experience with Cody was unparalleled, even putting some of his best hookups to shame. Sure, the acts themselves were fairly simple – a handjob and one experimental finger – but the lust, the sensuality, the eroticism of it all was incredible. He wondered if it was the familiarity he had with Cody, the trust between friends that fueled the experience. Or maybe it was the taboo of it all, the blurred lines between a homoerotic friendship and something more. He wondered how Cody felt about the whole ordeal and vowed to find a way to ask him as their evening progressed. He splashed some cool water on his face, rinsed his hands, and made his way back into the kitchen. 

Cody was at the counter, already beginning to prepare their meal for the evening, some sheet pan roasted chicken and veggies – a balanced, nutritious meal, of course. James rolled his eyes. Typical Cody, he thought. He walked into the kitchen and cleared his throat, unsure what to do. 

“How can I help?” He asked.

Cody turned around, thought for a moment, then pointed at a pile of vegetables near the sink. “Can you wash and chop the veggies while I work on this chicken?” 

“Yes, Chef,” James grinned.

It was an easy meal to prepare, but they had fun sharing the kitchen, working together on such a small but practical task. James liked seeing Cody in his element, the confident, if not terribly graceful, way he handled a knife; the reckless abandon with which he sprinkled spices and seasonings into the bowl. James was a recipe guy – meticulous and thorough, rarely departing from the experts’ clear instructions – but Cody was all instinct and spontaneity. James liked this side of him, and he smiled as he hacked his way through a sweet potato. 

“How’s it going over there?” Cody asked, washing his hands at the sink. 

“So far, so good. I think.” 

Drying his hands, Cody stepped up behind James, his chest pressing against James’s shoulder blade. He surveyed the piles of diced veggies before giving an approving nod, then he clapped James on the shoulder. “Looks good.”

His hand lingered on James’s shoulder for just a minute. It was a warm, friendly hand, platonic but clearly affectionate. “Thank you, Chef.” James said, his voice a little husky. 

“Okay, I gotta admit,” James began as he leaned back in his chair, his hand resting on his belly, “that was really good.”

Cody flashed an I-Told-You-So smile and took the last bite of broccoli off his plate. “Yeah, I’m a great cook. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, it just all looked so…healthy.” He laughed. Between them on the table sat two empty plates, a cutting board atop which rested a large, crusty loaf of bread, and a mostly-empty bottle of Chardonnay, the contents of which glowed warmly in two delicate, crystal wine glasses. 

“It was healthy,” Cody defended. “But it was also delicious.”

“Well, feel free to make this for me again anytime.” James sighed. 

“Sure thing,” Cody nodded. “I’ll make it when we live together next year. 

James perked up. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” Cody shrugged. “Only if you’d want to, that is.”

James smiled. “I’d like that. Last chance to make it happen, I guess.”

They cleaned up from dinner and found themselves back at the table with a deck of cards, looking at each other over half-empty glasses of wine. 

“What are we gonna play?” James asked.

Cory furrowed his brow, passing the deck of cards back and forth mindlessly between his hands. “Not sure. I’m suddenly realizing my card game knowledge isn’t what I thought it was.”

James chuckled. “Me too. I know poker, and I know Go Fish.”

“Poker for two seems a little…dumb,” Cody admitted. 

“Go Fish then?” James suggested. 

Cody shrugged in agreement and began to shuffle the cards, dealing them out between the two of them. They fell into a quiet rhythm, asking and answering, exchanging cards and fishing from the deck and finishing the bottle of wine. It was a calm game, easy and thoughtless, aided by the warm fog of the wine that was slowly settling over them both. Night had fallen, and the cabin had transformed into a haven of warm lamplight and plush accents, creating the illusion of timelessness that often exists in the long nights of winter. Whether it was 6:00 pm or 3:00 am, they couldn’t tell. They didn’t care.

James won the first game by one book, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Cody who, apparently, only needed one card to best him. This of course led to a rematch, and James gathered the cards to begin shuffling. Cody reached for the wine, attempting to refill his glass only to discover they’d finished the bottle. He set the empty bottle on the table and contorted his face into a disgruntled frown. James laughed.

“Go grab another one,” he suggested. 

“I didn’t see any more in the fridge,” Cody lamented.

“Check the wine fridge.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell is the wine fridge?”

“Laundry room,” James uttered, fanning the cards in an impressive bridge shuffle that would’ve fit right in at any respectable Vegas table. 

“God Bless Alan and Patricia,” Cody muttered as he left the table.

James chuckled to himself as he dealt the cards, draining the last sip of wine from his class while he waited for Cody to return with more. He was reaching his preferred level of tipsy, just enough to gain a little bravery without risking anything sloppy or stupid. Fortunately, he thought to himself, after this afternoon’s events it would be pretty hard for him to cross any lines because of a little alcohol. An idea popped into his head just as he heard Cody’s voice approaching behind him.

“Found it!” he exclaimed. He unscrewed the bottle and quickly refilled each of their glasses before settling into his chair and inspecting his new hand of cards. He rearranged a few of the cards and then looked up at James, noticing the look of inspiration that had graced his friend’s face. “What?”

“I’ve got an idea,” James said conspiratorially. 

“About?” Cody inquired. 

“How to make this game a little more interesting,” James flashed a devilish grin.

Cody just chuckled. “Let’s hear it.”

“Every time we complete a book, the other person ditches an article of clothing.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. “I feel like we’ve already pushed past a little nudity for the weekend.”

“Exactly,” Cody shrugged. “So why not?”

Cody took a sip of wine and cocked a half-smile. “You got yourself a deal.”

The new game began with an air of heightened stakes, totally manufactured by each of them committing to the bit. Cody stared at his hand with a lazy posture and casual intensity like someone in a world championship poker match; James punctuated his questions with dramatic pauses and narrowed eyes. The whole scene was right out of Casino Royale, minus the tuxedos and international espionage. With a wicked smile and elegant flourish, Cody displayed his first book – the set of fours – and sat back, looking at James expectantly. James sighed, holding back a smile, and wriggled his way out of his joggers. 

“What?” he asked, seeing the confusion on Cody’s face.

“Who starts with their pants?” Cody asked.

“I want to keep my sweatshirt on, it’s cozy!” James defended.

Cody rolled his eyes. “Got me playing against Winnie the Pooh over here.”

James swallowed a laugh and carefully studied his hand. 

He got the next two books, causing Cody to part with his hoodie and his socks. He made a little show of unzipping the hoodie, flashing a seductive smile and treating James to a parody striptease. James laughed but admired the way his olive green tee stretched across his chest and tightened over his biceps, the color contrasting nicely against his pale skin, making him look more cast from marble than ever. 

Cody came back with another book a few minutes later, and James returned the striptease as he pulled his sweatshirt off over his head. Cody whistled a catcall, so James played along, twirling the sweatshirt playfully and tossing it into the living room. Now in his briefs and t-shirt, he felt a chill in the air and jumped up from his seat. 

“Hey, don’t think you can run away from this now!” Cody teased, reaching for his wine glass. James flipped him off and grabbed the remote for the fireplace, which roared to life and immediately began to heat the spacious room. 

“Look, I’m just trying to do us both a favor for when these underwear have to come off,” James shot back sarcastically. 

“Speak for yourself,” Cody winked and grabbed his crotch. 

James groaned. “Oh, spare me.”

A few minutes later, James snagged the book of Jacks and emphatically slammed it down on the table. Cody obediently laid down his hand and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor beside him. James let himself admire the view, the curve of his pecs, the broad strokes of his collarbone where it met his neck. Cody watched James watch him and grabbed his glass of wine, which he raised in a toast. “To the fun part,” he teased. 

Next to go was James’s shirt, bested by the book of sevens. He felt Cody’s eyes on him, and was conscious of his nipples hardening in the cool air. His socks were forfeited mere moments later. He retaliated with the book of Kings, and Cody made a show of scooting his chair back, standing up in a lumbering motion, and pulling off his sweatpants. His boxer briefs clung to him in all the right ways, and he didn’t try to hide it. 

Just like that, the two boys had arrived at match point, each sitting in their underwear without the faintest bit of embarrassment or shame. They played quickly now, letting themselves get carried away by the friendly competition, their hearts leaping in their chests with each draw of a card, both a little excited about the inevitable results. With a stroke of luck, James snagged his final card – the nine of clubs – and froze, looking up at Cody with the biggest, shit-eating grin he could manage. 

“No,” Cody groaned. 

“Aha!” James slammed down his final book, wine glasses shaking on the tabletop. “Suck it!”

“Hey now, that wasn’t part of the rules!” Cody teased. “Fine.” He threw his cards onto the table, downed the remainder of his wine, and stood up beside his chair. “Hope you’re happy, ya jerk.”

“Don’t be a sore loser!” James retorted, his pulse quickening. 

Cody stood there for a second, and their eyes met, expectation heavy in the air between them. Then, for reasons unknown to even him, Cody stepped a little closer towards James. He hooked his thumbs into his briefs and pulled them to the floor. He stood up, adjusting himself where his balls had stuck to his thigh, and dropped his arms to his side.

James stared. Openly and admiringly, James stared at his friend. Somehow, outside of the hot tub and without the surreal glow of porch lights, Cody felt more real, more tangible, standing naked before him. James didn’t know where to look first – his broad torso, his strong legs, or his plump, gorgeous cock. 

He looked up and met Cody’s eyes, which betrayed little emotion. “Like what you see?” Cody asked, his voice more vulnerable than the sarcastic question suggested.

James exhaled. “Jesus, dude. You have no idea how amazing you look.”

“Yeah?” Cody asked, taking another step towards him. “What about me?”

James craned his neck, and took a deep breath. “I mean…all of it. Your chest. Your shoulders. Your arms. Your abs. Your legs. Your cock…”

His eyes lingered on Cody’s groin for an endless second. Then, propelled by some unknown force, James rose from the chair and stood before his friend. “I think you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

Cody smiled earnestly. “Thanks, man. That’s kind of you to say.”

James’s eyes scanned over his body, his excitement starting to strain against his own underwear. Cody’s cock was still soft, but he hadn’t made any efforts to cover himself or rush through this consequence of his defeat, so James took a fortifying breath and met Cody’s eyes.

“Want me to…return the favor?”

Cody’s eyebrows raised. “Favor?”

“You know. From earlier?” James cautiously reached forward and took Cody’s cock in his fingers. Cody sucked in a breath. James gently stroked his fingers along the underside of his shaft, his thumb caressing his plump, pink head. It was velvety smooth. 

“Oh,” Cody breathed out. “Sure.”

James continued to stroke Cody’s cock, feeling it steadily grow in his hand. He stood frozen, as one might around a wild animal, careful not to scare it off. Cody stood just as still, his eyes glued to James’s hand as it toyed with his cock. 

“That feel okay?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Cody looked up and smiled. “It does.”

He was almost totally hard now, his erection pointing out and away from him, at least six inches long and considerably thick. It was a perfect extension of his body, James thought, undeniably Cody’s cock. He wrapped his hand more fully around it and began to stroke more intentionally, friction warming the skin beneath his hand. A bead of moisture appeared on the tip of Cody’s dick. James gently caught it on thumb and brought it to his mouth. 

Cody laughed breathlessly. “Jesus.”

James just smiled and started to return his hand.

“Wait,” Cody said, and James froze. “You should take your briefs off.”

James cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cody said sheepishly, his cheeks pink. “Seems only fair.”

James could’ve responded with some quip about how he hadn’t lost their game and the he’d already shown his dick for the day, but idea that Cody asked him to get naked, wanted him to get naked, sent a shiver down his spine. He pulled his briefs off and kicked them somewhere behind him, his own cock standing tall.

“You like my cock?” James asked playfully.

Cody shrugged. “It’s a pretty nice one, I guess.”

James laughed. “You like my cock,” he teased with the singsong voice of a schoolkid.

“Hey, you talk about my body. I can talk about yours.”

“Touche.”

James returned his hand to Cody’s cock, letting it slide down the underside of his shaft and caress his balls. They were smooth and soft and delicate despite their size and weight. 

“Do you always shave everything?” James asked cooly, fingers exploring. “Or was this just for the weekend?” 

“I usually do,” he replied, his voice hitching sporadically. “I mean, I don’t have a lot of hair anyways, but I like to…” he gasped as James changed his grip. “Like to keep it clean.” He looked up at James, his eyes growing dark.

“It looks good,” James purred. He felt a wave of confidence washing over him. Seeing Cody respond to his touch made him feel strong, powerful, and so, so sexy. He was used to being a congenial bottom, but now he felt a surge of dominance and he liked it. “Feels good, too.” 

“Yeah?” Cody asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” James assured him, tracing a long stroke from the base of his cock to the tip, eliciting another drop of moisture. “It’s soft. Smooth. I like it.”

Cody looked down as James swirled the precum on the tip of his cock. A shiver went through his body, and James’s own cock twitched at the sight.

“What about you?” Cody asked, reaching out and tracing a finger along James’s erection. “You always leave it hairy down there?”

James smirked. “I like to leave a little hair, yeah. Up front at least.” 

Cody chuckled and sighed with pleasure. “I noticed.” 

James stepped closer to Cody, who responded by placing a hand on James’s shoulder, bracing himself with a firm grip. James wrapped both hands around Cody’s cock, and he began to gently rock his hips, sliding in and out of James’s tight grip. The two looked at each other intensely, heat radiating between them. 

“How do you feel about kissing?” James asked hoarsely.

“I’m not against it,” Cody answered.

“Okay, thank God,” James uttered breathlessly as he leaned in and smashed their mouths together in a fury of lips and tongue and passion. Cody’s other hand grabbed the back of James’s neck as he met the kids with equal intensity, still bucking his hips into James’s hands. 

James was drunk on lust – well, that and wine – and his head swam in the overwhelming sensations of the moment. He broke away from Cody’s kiss only to catch his breath and the two looked at each other with bewildered eyes. 

“This is really fucking hot,” James exclaimed. 

“I know,” Cody smiled, his eyes burning with lust. 

“Can I suck you?” James asked, already dropping to his knees. Cody stepped back and braced himself against the table, one hand gripping the varnished wood, the other hand firmly wrapped around James’s head. James was ready to go to work but found he need only open his throat and hang on right as Cody began to buck his hips wildly. The wet, squelching sound escaping from his mouth was the hottest thing James had ever heard, and the look of pure concentration on Cody’s face as he thrusted was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Fuck,” Cody cursed under his breath, tossing his head back as his abs rippled and contracted. He thrust deeper, eventually causing James to gag and sputter, and he let go of James’s head. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” James coughed, his eyes watering. “Just need to catch my breath.” He sat back on his heels, hands on his thighs, his dick protruding proudly between his legs. The boys locked eyes and laughed. “This is wild,” James confessed.

“Yeah,” Cody agreed. “I’m glad to hear you say that, I was worried this was what you’re used to.”

“Worried?” James asked.

“Felt like I was suddenly trying to clear a very high bar,” Cody blushed, and James laughed. 

“Aww, trying to impress me?” 

“Shut up.” Cody rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, you could just stand there and I’d be impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” Cody asked, gripping his cock in one hand. 

“Oh yeah,” James leaned back and did the same, and they watched each other stroke themselves, slowly, gracefully, making a show of it. Finally James had to lean forward. “Sorry, this damn floor is killing me.”

Cody laughed as he helped James to his feet, and the two naked friends stood there awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do next. “We could…go to the room?” Cody finally suggested. 

James raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to?” 

“Yeah,” Cody nodded almost convincingly. “May as well get comfortable.” 

James found no reason to strike down the suggestion, so he just smiled. “Lead the way.”

They fell into Cody’s bed and propped themselves up on an elbow, each admiring the view of the young, fit body lounging before him, each looking up at each other with a quizzical brow. 

“What?” James asked. 

“Nothing,” Cody said dismissively, though a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I just…didn’t expect this this weekend.”

“Neither did I,” James agreed. “Daydreamed about it, maybe, but never expected it.”

Cody furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“I mean…it’s not like I just sit and pine over you, but…you’ve seen yourself in a mirror. The idea has crossed my mind before.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Cody laughed. “For what it’s worth, I’ve thought about it too.”

“Really?” James asked. 

“Yeah.” Cody nodded. “I don’t know, I never wanted to, like, be that guy who used his one gay friend for sex. That’d be really shitty.” 

“I don’t know, if this is what the sex is like, I probably wouldn’t mind,” James teased. 

Cody playfully shoved his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And thank you, I appreciate it. But also, I am your one gay friend so had I known this is something you’ve been curious about…I guess what I’m saying is you can talk to me without needing to have it all figured out.”

“Thanks James,” Cody smiled then looked down at their bodies. “If that’s the case…there is something I’ve been curious about.”

James’s heart fluttered. “What’s that?”

“I, uh…I’ve always wanted someone to, uh…”

“Dude, just say it,” James urged.

“Eat my ass?” Cody’s cheeks turned pink. 

“Yeah?” James asked eagerly.

“Do you…do that?” Cody stammered.

James just smiled. “Oh hell yes. Roll over.”

Cody lay on his stomach as James positioned himself over Cody’s legs, stopping to take in the view of his broad, muscular back and his huge, round ass. “Damn,” he whispered.

“What?” 

“Nothing, just…it’s not fair you have an ass like this.” 

Cody laughed and wiggled his hips, his ass cheeks rocking with the movement. James just groaned playfully and leaned down, placing his hands on Cody’s lower back. He massaged gently, kneading into Cody’s smooth skin with his thumbs. After a minute of this, he brought his hands lower, each cupping one of Cody’s firm cheeks. He gave them a squeeze and his cock twitched. 

Never in a million years did he imagine this scene for him and Cody. Sure, in all his most personal fantasies, he’d played out a similar scene a hundred times or more, but the roles were always reversed. He loved a good surprise. 

Slowly, he leaned down and kissed the smooth skin at the base of Cody’s spine. He licked it and felt the shiver run up Cody’s back. Then, he continued to lick, inching his way down into Cody’s crack, hands massaging as he went. He drew out a long lick, returning to Cody’s lower back, before he plunged his tongue right into the sweet spot, making contact with Cody’s hole. Cody jumped at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. James took that as his sign to continue.

He continued to lick and prod, circling Cody’s hole and grazing the surface of it, pushing gently against it. It was tight and resisted his intrusion, but no matter. Cody breathed heavily and unevenly as James proceeded, his hips squirming against the mattress. 

“Like that?” James asked. 

Cody moaned in reply. 

James gently tugged at Cody’s hips, a cue he understood with surprising responsiveness. He arched his back, spreading his legs and sending his ass into the air, exposing his most hidden place to James, entrusting him with this new experience. James took in the sight – the tight, pink hole; the tufts of light brown hair that circled it, separating it from his smooth ass cheeks; his balls hanging low and full beneath him – and vowed to make this new experience a pleasant one. 

He dove in with fervor, his tongue sliding in and out of Cody’s hole, drawing out moans and curses from Cody where his face pressed into the mattress. His hands gripped the sheets and the muscles of his back flexed with ecstasy as his body sent waves of new and intense pleasure throughout his body. “Fuck me,” he groaned as James plunged his tongue as deep into his hole as he could manage. He breathed in the musky scent and felt the precum pouring from his own cock. 

Above him, Cody reached in and began stroking his cock, a fast and fervent movement that revealed his absolute desperation to cum. James loved that he could make him feel this way – Cody, the pinnacle of masculinity and discipline and strength, reduced to a squirming, moaning mess at his touch. It unlocked some new side of him, some previously unexplored power, and he liked it. He wanted to explore it more. He reached down and took hold of himself, moaning into Cody’s ass as he did.

It didn’t take long for the both of them to finish, a loud and explosive affair for each. After, Cody collapsed onto his stomach while James mustered up the strength to return his head to the pillow, where he lay catching his breath for some time. As their heartbeats slowed and the room around them slowly came back into focus, Cody began to laugh. It was a hearty, cheerful, genuine laugh, an infectious laugh, and soon James was joining in. 

“Jesus Christ,” Cody finally exclaimed, rolling into his back, arm draped across his forehead. 

“Agreed,” James said between breaths. 

“That was…that was insane. I’ve never cum like that before,” he confessed, awestruck. “Is it always like that? With a guy?”

“No. Not always.” James chuckled. “But it’s usually pretty  good.”

“Damn,” Cody marveled. “Well that was…yeah.” He sighed contentedly, and for a minute they just lay there, basking in the afterglow. “So…now what?”

James chuckled. “Well. We could hot tub?”

Cody looked up at him with a bemused smile. “Sounds perfect.”

The two of them rose, grabbed towels from the bathroom, and walked naked to the back deck. Settling into the hot tub, they each reclined and closed their eyes, contented smiles resting on their faces. The gentle bubbling of the hot tub jets filled the comfortable silence between them as James accepted the reality of what just happened. Sure, he’d fantasized about Cody plenty of times, but he never once expected those fantasies to happen in real life, and now that they had…well, they didn’t feel any less surreal. His thoughts were interrupted.

“That was fun,” Cody said casually.

James opened his eyes to find Cody looking at him. “Yeah, it was,” he agreed. 

“You okay with what happened?” Cody checked.

“Me?” James asked, a little surprised. “I’m good. Great, actually. Are you okay?”

Cody laughed. “Yeah, I think I am. What’s a little fun among friends, right?”

“Right,” James smiled. “And yeah, I don’t expect you to, like, change anything after that. Like, I don’t expect you’re gonna want to get together or whatever. I’m totally cool if that was a one-time thing between friends.”

“Thanks man,” Cody flashed a crooked half-smile. “Although…I probably wouldn’t be opposed to something like that happening again.”

“Oh yeah?” James raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Cody shrugged. “I mean, holy shit, I didn’t know it would feel like that. And, I mean, if that felt so intense I can only imagine…well, it felt good and I trust you so…why not?”

“I mean, that’s how I think all guys should view sex, so I’m on board,” James chuckled.

“Cool,” Cody agreed, settling back into his seat. “I think next time I want to try eating you out,” he said with comical nonchalance.

James felt his stomach lurch at the thought, and a million different images flooded into his mind. He played it cool, though, saying he was game for anything Cody was comfortable with. In reality, his mind raced with the possibilities in store for this new chapter of their friendship, and he was  eager and aroused at the prospect of actually living together if this new arrangement persisted. 

For now, though, he tried to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the moment, the warm water massaging his body, the crisp smell of chlorine and Autumn air, and the company of his friend on their weekend away. 

He settled back into the warm, swirling water and closed his eyes.

---

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit.
   1) – If this offends you, please do not continue.
   2) – If you are under 16, please exit this story now.
All character names, ages, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author’s imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.
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Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author’s written consent. It is published on www.gaydemon.com. Under the pseudonym of StrykerJ.
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Seduced by my own Twin Bro.

Part 4 of 5.

I watched Owen and Bill leave our bedroom. The guys had undressed and wore the swim shorts I gave them. Meijers looked good in my old black trunks. As they walked away, their fingers intertwined, revealing a surprising connection between them. Owen Harper was the definition of polished charm with a bleached hairdo and a muscular physique. Every muscle group is clearly visible on him.
On the other hand, Billy Meijers is much rougher around the edges. A scruffy beard and unkempt hair. His arms and chest were covered in an assortment of tattoos and scars. Definitely looking as if he needed a spa day. Yet, reasonably muscular as well. He acted like a brusk Alpha, but experience taught me he was anything but. Despite their apparent differences, Owen and Billy complemented each other well.

I couldn’t shake my concern about Bill reverting to his old bullying ways, though. In high school, his insecurity manifested as aggression or racism, and he took pleasure in targeting the colored and vulnerable guys. If Owen did not keep Meijers on a short leash, the Latina Doctor Carla Martin, a lesbian, could readily become his next target. With my dark, brooding emo style, I often found myself in the crosshairs of Bill’s relentless bullying at school, too. Though not as frequently as poor Victor Reece. Billy Meijers had a knack for sniffing out the weak and vulnerable. He and his cronies could practically sense them from a mile away.

Reece was one of Meijer’s favorite submissive victims. Victor’s smooth, hairless, mocha-colored skin and lean, boyish good looks were well hidden beneath scraggy clothes. It looked like money was tight. So, Victor’s swimmer’s physique went mostly unnoticed by the rest of the school. He faced relentless bullying from Meijers and his cronies, though. Reece was treated like an outcast. The man just let it wash over him for no reason at all. It was disheartening to witness.

Victor had few friends, but I counted myself among them. Even though Reece made sure I kept my distance. He enjoyed our naughty talks in the showers after our weekly swim meets, though. I loved looking at him naked. And now I know why. The funny thing was, Victor always got a little aroused during those seductive shower hookups. The ebony stud was hung. Not that it led to anything. We didn’t dare show the rest we had feelings like those. We did not even talk about the subject. I wish high school would have lasted a couple more years. I would have definitely tried my luck with him. Hoping that I found some attractive dude like him at college to fool around with.

There it was again, the ever-looming cloud of college worry hanging over me. Why had I waited until now to figure out where I wanted to go? Owen and Billy had opted to stay in town. Going to the local business school. My twin wanted to go into Jackson’s outdoor business. I’ve overheard the two talking about that plenty of times. Owen is much more of an outdoor type than I ever was. Yes, even identical twins can have differing personalities. I wanted to create stuff and become an engineer like Julia Smith.

Surely, by now, all the dorms must be fully booked. Alex had more or less offered me a place to stay in his apartment complex. Even though nothing was set in stone. Yet, the idea started sounding more enticing by the minute.
But Redmond? I didn’t know the first thing about it. In fact, I had never even set foot in Bowmond Academy for Engineering and Technology. Sure, I had visited the open days of the other two schools I’d been accepted to. But honestly, I was just as clueless about those cities as I was about Redmond. What was I thinking?

I took my laptop downstairs. I thought I could research the college towns, sitting in the sun. Or, at least, use it to stream some tunes. I wore my white Pride swim shorts and a linen shirt. Exsesserising it with Alex’s skimpy black leather stripper vest and a leather wristband. Feeling too cool for my shirt. As if the sun shun out of my every orifice. Filling me up with a light that had been dimmed for much too long. Yes, black and white were my new colors. And I made them look as good as Alex Smith. Even though I wasn’t half as muscular as him.

I met Jackson Smith and my Mom, Carol-Sue Harper, on their way up. Jack held out his fist toward me, and I bumped it with a dirty smile. As Mom walked on, Jackson stopped me from going down.
“Thanks for talking to your Mom, Eric. I am glad you talked some sense into her,” whispered Jack, relieved. “… What’s wrong, Eric?” he asked, seeing my worried look.
“Needing to figure this college thing out a.s.a.p., Dad. I don’t have a dorm yet. Heck, I don’t even know how to get there without a car,” I half sobbed.

Jackson embraced me warmly and said, “Eric Harper, Son, you just pick a town you like, and I’ll buy you an apartment and a set of wheels. You know I am good for it. Now, go have fun with the rest. You worry too much, Harper. You let Mother Nature do her magic. Let some of it be a surprise. That’s much more fun. You can’t plan your entire life in advance, Eric!“.
He had a point there. But I needed a home-court advantage. A base to plan my life around.

Jackson let go and went to find Mom. But at the top of the stairs, he stopped and looked back. Saying, “… Eric, hold my calls. I’ll be busy for the next hour and a half. Hold down the fort, son. Don’t let McDowell in, or answer the police she threatened us with.“
He laughed hornily. The boner nearly split his cargo pants. Mom was in for a rough ride in the middle of the afternoon. She deserved every inch of it. Luckily, the heatwave had broken, and a pleasant breeze played through the house’s open windows and doors.

The others were already in the pool as I strolled onto the terrace. They giggled as they fooled around in the swimming pool, apparently, to the dislike of she-from-next-door. McDowell was screaming her head off at the half-naked twinks splashing about. Running around the pool to jump off the diving board like giddy teens. I opened my laptop on the patio table to research the university towns and their gay nightlife. Streaming some Euro Trans for the guys to enjoy.

I saw Misses McDowell’s head pop over the garden fence, waving her fist at Owen and Bill. Meijers had my twin bro pressed against the pool’s edge. Playing with the pool noodle in Owe’s swim trunk. McDowell nearly had a heart attack as she saw the two tongue kiss while badass bully Billy Meijers rudely flipped her the bird. Owen let out a fake, gleeful, orgasmic shout. “… Stop it, Bill!… You’re making me cum!“.
Julia and Carla let out ear-piercing screams of mirth at that remark. That did the trick. McDowell toppled backward out of sight.

It went quiet for a while. Abandoning my laptop, I joined the group in the pool. I seductively stripped out of Alex’s skimpy black leather waistcoat and the white linen stripper shirt I borrowed from my ‘stepbro‘. There was not much to the muscle vest. But it made me feel much more brutal than I actually was. I was sure I made the guys look. Removing my clothes seductively. Swaying my hips to the tunes from Marvin Gaye. Alex just gave me a look like his loins were on fire. Even Carla Martin smiled hotly at me as I danced my way around the pool to the diving board.

The seductive dance-mashup and deep voice of Marvin Gaye made me do it. I pumped my hips in time with the beat. Fucking the air on the edge of the diving board. Alex, wolf-whistled. Owen, Bill, Carla, and Julia stopped what they were doing as they watched me. Jeering at me to drop my swim trunks and give them a show.
Chanting, “… Take it off, Take it off!“

Well, you see, I would have -… If it had not been for – Holier then thou – McDowell. The Karin had pointed a garden hose over the fence. Trying to douse my ‘sexual healing‘ with cold water.
“Watch where you point that thing, McDowell,” I called meanly over my shoulder. “… How will you ever wash the sperm off my back if you don’t aim right? Keep it still, woman!” I called meanly over my shoulder.
It went quiet on the other side of the fence. Too quiet for my liking. Even the moans and grunts from upstairs seemed to stop. I think, this time, I went too far with my taunts.

I walked back to the trestle table in shame. McDowell’s intervention had drenched my feelings about joining the pool party. Looking at my laptop again. Using Google Streetview to cruise around the campuses and the cities. Finding out about the nightlife. Something I had neglected to do for far too long. This knowledge would have made my college picks so much easier.
A quick search on the college housing sites told me that only Bowmond Academy had a few available spaces. Not that those took my fancy. Those concrete dorm-cells just did not cut it for me. So, I was happy Alex had offered me a spot in his apartment building as a backup plan.

As I roamed Redmond’s virtual world, I found a few bars, clubs, and gyms that piqued my interest. Carla and Alex sat next to me. Checking I was doing okay. They had seen me droop off and wanted to console me. Taking a break from the pool party that McDowell fucked up. The twenty-five-year-old, Doctor Carla Martin, put a motherly hand on my back as she watched me fly through Redmond.
Alex suddenly called, “… Stop, spin around there, budd. And go back to the intersection.”

Smith stopped me on Front Street, near a biker bar and nightclub, right at the main entrance to the Farmsum neighborhood. This location was strategically positioned between Redmond University Hospital and Bowmond Academy. As Alex and Carla explained, this area used to be the beating heart of Farmsum. Regardless, that changed when Redmond rapidly expanded around it. Now, Front Street feels like a quiet backwater. Farmsum’s brick buildings and tree-lined streets provide an ideal setting for finding affordable apartments, all while being close to the lively entertainment district and within walking distance of charming shops and vibrant nightlife.

“What am I looking at, Alex? I am not a biker. Shit, I don’t even own a motorcycle.“
“Eric, you don’t need to own a bike to enjoy the company of those guys.“
And then I saw it. The peculiar red-brick building on the left of the intersection was a converted garage with apartments above it.

The building on the right was a bar-dancing and café-snack bar. Build around the same time. It was transformed into a biker hangout, by the look of it. A gay club, judging by the leather pride flags hanging outside. And even the apartment building had similar flags waving in the wind. Both buildings formed a 45-degree diamond layout with the greenspace across from the T-junction.

“What am I looking at, Smith? Is this -… Is this your?… Fuck!… WHEN CAN I MOVE IN?” I gasped excitedly. My college worries vanished like snow for the sun. Alex’s condo complex was precisely the type of place I had envisioned. Sure, it needed a shit load of work. It looked a little run down. But that’s right up my engineering alley, too.

“Yeah. Shit, I miss Redmond,” sighed Carla. “… There is plenty to do, see, and take home with you there, Eric. I met Jules there. Redmond Med students and Bowmond Engineers typically don’t mix well -… But she fixed my blocked pipes and stayed to play with my pussy,” grinned Carla dirty.

The moans and grunts from our villa’s top floor had stopped completely. Jackson’s phone started whaling. One call after another. Apparently, the make-up-sex of those two got cut short because of me. Smith Senior stuck his head out of the master bedroom window after a fourth or fifth call.
“… Eric Benjamin Harper, get your butt up here, pronto!” Jackson Smith sounded livid. And the other neighbors looked up in surprise. Smith Senior had never used my middle name.

Minutes later, police cars screeched to a halt outside. We heard the police talk warningly to McDowell, and I scurried inside. Alex followed me to answer the police knocking at the front door. Explaining McDowell’s invasion into our private family party. As scared as I was walking into the master bedroom, as relaxed looked Jackson. The man had worked hard. The bed was a mess, and Mom was in the shower.

“Sir… You… You wanted to see me?“.
“Yup. Just got calls from McDowell and the police. We need to pick up my lawyer and make a statement downtown. Your Mom told me about earlier incidents with that woman. Bring everything you have, Eric! We’ve got her now. Look!“.
He pointed out the window as McDowell got carted off in handcuffs. It looked like she had broken the nose of one of the officers.

Jackson looked at me momentarily and continued, “... Don’t look so worried, son. It’s a routine thing. I’ve dealt with her before. That Karin has terrorized this neighborhood for way too long. This time, she went too far! She attacked you!” said Jackson Smith calmingly. The man put an arm on my shoulder, grabbing my neck. As if he was going to push me to my knees. However, Jack merely looked me fatherly in the eye.

“Nah… I should not have made that remark when she sprayed me with cold water over the fence, sir,” I said hesitantly.
“Ha… It was a good one, though. Half the neighborhood heard you put McDowell down, son. Anyway, Eric, get dressed. Besides, you and I have some other business in town, too, Harper.“
“Huh? What…” I stammered. Fearing the worst.

“… I think I found the perfect set of wheels for you. We can pick it up on the way back. It’s a bit quirky. We can pick up dinner afterward. And I saw a nice jacket for you. Something that doesn’t scream, ‘I am gay; drop to your knees, bitch!’. So, get dressed, Eric, take your ID and driver’s license, and let’s do this, Harper. See you in the garage in ten. Hurry up!“

As the exuberant pool party got turned down a notch, Jackson and I picked up his lawyer. Heading with all my evidence to the police station to make our statement about she-from-next-door. I filed charges against her for assault, battery, discrimination, and invasion of privacy.
I got measured up at the tailors for a simple leather bomber. Something much more business-like than the chrome-snaps biker jacket Smith Senior had bought for me a year ago. A thin, plain coat I can wear to college, as well as to a gay club for a hard night.

At a used car lot, Jackson bought me the quirkiest car I had ever seen. A pimped up Hyundai Santa Cruz. A compact pickup utility vehicle. Complete with custom mat black paint job, a tec roof rack, a bull bar, a lighting kit, big shoes, heavy anchors, and whatnot. 281 horses, paired with a dual-clutch eight-speed automatic transmission. Full leather interior with racing seats and a roomy back seat. Well, it’s spacious enough to spread out on. A bit of road sex never goes awry. A four feet truck bed too small to be much use. But shit, man, I was in love the moment I saw it. As a college freshman, I looked like the king of England cruising around in that. And image, I figured, was everything. After all: ‘You never get a Second chance to make a First impression.’

Just like the manly leather look I cherish, this compact trucklet drew attention wherever it went. With its quirky charm, rugged build, and a hint of allure, it had a definite edge. Not overly gay, and yet. We ordered a lavish Chinese-Indian banquet for eight and went home. Doctor Carla Martin and Mom set the extravagant dinner on the terrace.

On our drive, I eagerly unveiled my new ride to Alex, Owen, Bill, and Julia. Their faces lit up with admiration as they circled the truck, their compliments making me beam with pride. We ate, drank, and had fun as a family. Even Bill Meijers managed to fit in nicely. Although I saw Owen keep a close eye on him. Quietly correcting the bastard whenever the rude brute threatened to step out of line.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over our patio, the night wore on. Laughter rang out as we drank the evening away. We had all indulged a little too much, and spirits soared high. Inhibitions faded into the laughter.
I asked Alex Smith, “… Hey Al?… Can you teach me some lap dancing moves?“.
“What?…” he asked, dumbfounded. “No!… I don’t know how…” said Alex warningly.

Apparently, the ‘gigolo‘ had not told his family about his other ‘hobbies‘. So, I quickly changed tack. “Hmm… Well, I know you can dance. So, will you teach me some moves?” I felt a little proud that Smith had told me about it, not his family. As disgusted as I had been this morning with Alex’s extracurricular activities, as interested I had become in the logistics of it all. Thinking about all that had been said and done.

With the encouragement of Julia and Carla – and even his stepmom, Alex reluctantly stepped forward. Evidently, the women wanted a lap dance anyway. And who could blame them? The alcohol had loosened them up. She-from-next-door was far away, unable to interrupt this party. And Alex Smith is the type of hunk everyone wants to rub their hands on. Or feel his firm bubble butt grind on their laps. His tremendous bulging pecs, enormous arms, and immaculate physique were a feast for the eyes.

Alex picked a thumping song and started to do a routine. Using Mom as his mark. Getting her all hot and bothered. Once he was done, Al ordered – in no uncertain terms – for Bill, Owen, and me to join him. Teaching us step by step the moves that seemed so effortlessly to flow from his body. But they were surprisingly hard to pull off drunk.

Nevertheless, Bill gave Carla a lapdance. I targeted Julia and her big boobs. Burying my face between them and motor-boating the knockers. And Owen got rebuffed by his Mom. So the sneaky bastard gleefully drove his rump into Jackson’s crotch. The family laughed their heads off. This evening could not have gone any better. Alex took me aside for a one-on-one. Teaching me the finer points of his dance moves. Watched by the drowsy gathering. The evening was winding down fast. And everyone longed for their beds. Or… For each other.

Mom and Dad were the first to retire. But we knew Jackson merely wanted to continue what McDowell had tried to stop earlier in the day. Julia and Carla went up to their room, too. Owen looked worried over at me. He wanted Meijers’s submissive ass but did not want me in the room. My twin’s look said it all.

So I answered calmly, “Let me clear up here, Owen. And grab some clean clothes for tomorrow. I’ll take the guest room.“
I winked at my brother and kissed both oversexed twinks firmly on the mouth. Wishing them a great night.
Whispering to Owen. “He can sleep on my bed, but you’ll change the sheets in the morning. Dirty boy!” I said as I squeezed the boy’s manhood. Wondering if the drunkard could even get it up. Well, my twin’s baseball bat was ready to hit a home run.

As we turned down the lights and locked the doors, I felt Alex’s Muscular arm drape over my shoulder.
“Had fun, Eric?” he asked.
“Fuck yeah!” I answered warmly. Pulling Al’s arm over my chest.
“Wanna go up to my room, buddy?“.
“Hmm… To sleep? or?“.
“Nah… I want to talk about next week. We can drive up to Redmond together if we rent a trailer for my bike. Get you settled in early. I want to show you my favorite hangouts… And let it all hang out. And then there is the issue of your apartment. I want you to stay in my building, Eric. We need to hook you up with a part-time job. You’re a good dancer. And a great fuck!“.

To hear Alex praise me like that was all I needed to agree to anything he said. I was on my knees before the door to his attic bedroom even closed. We had a great talk. Discussing possibilities. Learning about a bit of escort work on the side. Hearing what someone like Alex Smith made an hour while still only topping his clients, got me interested. But not convinced. I’d instead fall in love and have someone steady to fool around with. And all of these discussions took place between grunts and moans. For we flip-fucked the entire night away. And by the sound of it, we were not the only two making out that way. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Love is vigorous in the Smith residence.

No wonder none of us appeared downstairs before noon the next day. I had to wake them with the enticing smell of strong coffee and sweet banana fritters with leftover Chinese. Refried rice and boiled spiced eggs on fresh toast for lunch. We bonded as a family, discussing the future and all its varying possibilities. Even though I already knew where I was going. And what I wanted to do with my life.

We spent most of our time working out in the garage gym that week. It was nice to have someone like Alex Smith train my ass. His exercise regime was much more effective, at any rate. Even though, after last weekend, he never even looked at me with those seductive bedroom eyes again. I think Al’s dad had talked to him about sex with me.

We loaded up my new Santa Cruz – or, as I called it, my St.Cruise – with everything I intended to take along for the ride. A rented trailer was essential for accommodating the bulkier items, like Alex’s gleaming motorcycle, my mountain bike, and furniture I couldn’t part with. The items that didn’t fit in the compact truck bed were crammed into the backseat.

Dressed for comfort, Alex sported his form-fitting leather jeans, the thru zip running from front to back, showcasing his bulge and sculpted legs. He paired them with a snug tank top highlighting his muscular arms, the definition of his biceps and triceps framing a picture of fitness. Despite the warmth, he had opted for a black hoodie vest, adding a sportive edge to his look. Yet, Smith still showed a surprising amount of tanned skin.

I chose a similar, casual, yet sexy vibe, donning a white jogger that offered both ease and macho style. A charmingly butch white button-up shirt adorned with bold vertical black stripes. Leaving half the snap buttons undone. I threw on my new leather jacket over it. The supple black fabric clung to my form, emphasizing the contours of my pumped arms and well-defined chest. Al’s old cowboy boots had been lovingly refinished. Adding chrome bling on the pointy toes and heels. The rejuvenated polishing gave them a rich luster that reflected our testosterone-fueled adventure.

All in all, Smith and I made an impression that wasn’t lost on Carla, Julie, Owe, and his mate. Feeling and looking like macho brothers about to embark on a week-long cruise, of the gayest kind. Even the teary farewell could not suppress my eagerness to leave early that morning. But I would be seeing my family and friends quickly enough again. After all, the holiday season was only four months away. Sufficient time to get settled in and start my new college life.

During the first couple of hours, Alex talked my ear off. Telling me about the clubs he part-timed at. His bouncer duties, the stage- and cage-dancer jobs, the men he picked up. And about Robin, his well-hung ebony boyfriend.
Although, talking about his boo got Alex hot and bothered. And me telling the horny bastard to give Robin Grayson a call, did not fall on deaf ears. Alex pushed the double zipper past his nuts and faced-timed Grayson. Hooking the phone holder on the vent on the dash. Giving Robin an instant view of the prancing ten-inch cock, in need of service.

From what I saw, Robin Grayson looked precisely as Al had described. It got me even more interested in meeting him. I do love the look of a dirty-talking, butch black stallion. And by the sound of it, Robin fit that description completely. Six foot seven, slender but powerfully built. And… Umm… hung like a black horse on Viagra. And I wasn’t the only one looking. Several truckers on our right had Alex’s manhood on full display through the open passenger-side window. Swaying a bit as we overtook them. Honking at us.

Robin, seeing his man jack off next to me, grinned dirty the second he answered his phone. I could see his face light up on the screen. He knew Al had been fucking around with me. And the ebony hunk did not seem to mind one bit. He was already looking forward to bending me over, tying me up, and breeding me the instance I set foot in Smith’s love shack.

Alex had not exaggerated one bit. Grayson was every inch as long, girthy, and assertive as my step bro had explained. The length – I figured – I could deal with. But the black eleven-inch horse cock was three times as wide as any normal-sized hung man. Much wider than a baseball bat, for sure! I thanked God the oval tattooed cock wasn’t much thicker than an average man’s dick.

Grayson had quickly exposed himself, too. Yanking on the nearly foot-long thick telephone pole, standing proudly from his blue hospital scrubs. Going eighty-five down a bustling highway and trying to watch a fully erect ebony dick, streaming live and up close, became much too distracting. The two men jacked off hard and fast, yet they talked as casually and calmly as if nothing odd was happening.

The foul-mouthed African American Thug started bragging and boasting about everything he was going to do to me, for how long, and how bad he was going to hurt my white bubble butt. Telling Alex what names he had come up with for me. Saying I was ‘his kid,’ and he was ‘my black daddy‘. Shouting that Al should hurry up and bring ‘his new fuck toy‘. Robin sounded brutally mean about it, too.

I pulled off the highway and onto a country road. Stopping on a deserted gravel path. I pulled the camera toward me and spoke harshly to Grayson, “… You look here, Bitch! Enough with the bravado. I am no one’s slave or fuck toy. And certainly not ‘your kid’. How dare you, Bitch!“.

I growled dominatly,” … You, of all people, should know that! Al already told me you’re a power pig. This is a good thing, for I like to top in leather. So you just keep your hole lubed until I get there. And as for you tying me up? Well, You just worry I don’t weld your bling to the metal beams and rape your black hole with a sledgehammer. Us Bowmond boys know how to knock up nurses like you.“

Robin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. The ebony God had clearly not realized I was in the car with my brother. Nor that I am every bit as much a budding Alpha top as Smith is. As I turned the camera back to my step bro. I flicked the lever on his seat up. Making him drop back horizontally. I grasped his gearstick and swallowed hard. Eating the throbbing ten-inch dong with glee. Swallowing the instant release of ropes of cum that splattered into my mouth and over my face. Looking belligerently assertive over at Robin Grayson as I got showered with his man’s spunk.

With Smith’s cum dripping from my mouth, I warned Robin. “… I’d like to taste you too. But you’ll have to tone it down a notch, brother. And that thing isn’t going anywhere near my ass without Al’s approval and supervision. YOU HEAR ME? Love to give it a try eventually, though. Robin ‘Hard’ Wood.“
Robin just grinned at the camera. He dumped his load over his phone and called, “Fuck yes, Sir. I’d love to. Arghh. Ooh… Hmm… Shit, dude. Take my black ass! Spank me raw. I want it, Harper! I’d submit. Dang lil’ bro. Al taught you well.“

After the call, Alex just looked at me in surprise. Breathing heavily after the shocking orgasm.
“Shit, Eric! Do you know how unusual it is to see Robin submit that quickly to someone? He must have really liked what he saw.“
Smith looked at me with those seductive bedroom eyes of his and apologetically wiped his cum off my face.
“Robin does look like a challenge I would go for. Especially if he’s dressed in leather,” I replied confidently. “… He seems rather a substantial king. But the bigger they are, the harder they fall. I just hope my hole can handle him.“

“No-man… Don’t worry your ass about it. He’ll make it fit… His tongue – and bedside manner – are amazing. Just don’t let him face-fuck you!” warned Alex.
“Why not?” I asked indignantly.
“Robin’s frenulum and cockhead are extremely sensitive. And the man can’t help himself if you stimulate it. He’ll ride your throat until you pass out.” Alex Smith breathed in deep despair, adding, “… And then Robin will get to work on you for real!“

Again, Al sighed warningly, “… Promise me you won’t let it get that far, Eric. I would not be able to stop that horney niggha!“
“Hmm… that bad?“.
“Yup. And Robin likes losing control with white twinks like you. Eats them for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. And you’ll be just another midnight snack for Grayson. Eric, I am warning you. Be careful! I am not joking.“
“Ha. I’ll read the owner’s manual then. But fuck, I am horney too now. Let’s find a motel and fuck a highway cowboy – or two.“
Pointing back to the highway. Twisting uncomfortably in my bucket seat. Adjusting my pinching package.

Nothing much happened until we arrived at a seedy-looking truckstop motel for fuel. The sun was already setting as I pumped a load of gas. A long-haul truck pulled up on the other side of the pumps. It had Texas plates, and the dude that jumped out of the cab was… Well, the trucker was hot. Our eyes met, and he flexed his eyebrows at me. Appraising my look while he stroked his bulge a little too obviously. Slicking my lips with my tongue, a move that made the brute grin.

“Wanna hook up, bitch?” he called over as I paid for the gas.
“Hmm? Can you handle a threesome with my bro?” I boldly asked. Pointing at Alex, who had booked a motel room for us at the office.
The shabbily dressed cowboy wore a pale blue denim trucker jacket and black leather cowboy hat. The bulge in his artfully ripped, shiny black jeans had piqued my interest. He was not much older than Alex. Brought in the shoulder and pleasing to the eye. Although in dire need of a shower and a shave.

“Can I fuck Y’alls Bitch?” asked the Texan trucker without even introducing himself. Looking Alex Smith up and down. He clearly liked what he saw. And was willing to pay for it. Assuming Al was my pimp or something like that.
“Careful there, big nuts. This twink isn’t as submissive as you think. He’ll rearrange your guts. This is ‘preparation H’, and I am Doc S. Can you afford us? And who the fuck are you?” asked Alex.
The idea that we would get paid for the casual sex surprised me even more than the trucker. But he did not seem to mind at all.

“Oh, sorry, Y’all. I am Chapman, Shaun Chapman. Man, I am horny as fuck. Wanna have some fun?” the trucker asked.
“Meet us in the diner. I want to eat first. And you can do with a shower. I can smell you from here, Chapman. We’ve booked a room in the motel.” I said, wrinkling my nose and adjusting my dick.
“Sorry, man… It’s been a hard day.“
“Ha. I can see that.“
I laughed as I looked him between the legs. The shiny faux leather jeans were straining.

“… Are you sure about this, Eric?… He looks like a nasty handful,” asked Alex, grinning at me as we drove the car to the motel.
“Ha… Yeah. Let me blow him first. If he plays nice, you can let him loose on me. I doubt dating opportunities in Redmond would be this easy. Besides, he looks like he can use a hand. I think he likes your leathers, too, Doc. Chapman must see you as my master. I do need to get myself some of those double zipper fuck pants, too. Those are hot, Master!” I smirked dirty. Groping Smith between the legs. Feeling his cock twitch under my palm. Hearing Alex sigh longingly.

“Nah… Not in a masterful mood today, H. Let’s talk to him over dinner first. If he wants, we can have some fun. He looks rough, though. This one asks without taking. Best let him pay upfront.” said Alex Smith warningly. Knowing the type of man.
“Getting paid for sex? Don’t know, man. Okay. I’ll follow your lead then. That’s your thing, Doc.“
I figured I best not use Alex’s real name from here on out. But ‘preparation H‘? Hmm… I had to come up with a different porn name. All though I did not mind injecting some ointment into the trucker’s ass.

After dropping off our gear in the motel room, we met with Chapman in the diner. The man had showered and trimmed his stubble. The slicked-back hair was still wet. If anything, the Texan trucker looked even more astonishing than before. Shaunwore a fresh black cowboy shirt and thin police gloves. Carrying a thick toiletry bag with him. It interested me. Wondering what and why. But the powerful stud puppet looked even more sexy, dressed all in black. He grinned hornily at us as he slid into the booth beside me. Handing Smith the thousand dollars he had negotiated for the event. My ears turned red as the money eagerly exchanged hands. What had I let myself in for? This put so much pressure on me. It was excruciating.

Shaun Chapman was a very hands-on type of guy. Groping and prodding me all throughout dinner. Alex invited Chapman to our hotel room for dessert. When Chapman entered the room, the Doc grabbed him and kissed the trucker. As we had discussed, I set up my Digicam and our phones to film the seductive hookup with this stranger. I kept telling myself I needed to enjoy it. It was just another opportunity to learn from the best. But man, Shaun had dropped the charm and was channeling his inner sadistic master.

When I joined the two in the middle of the room, Shaun pressed his bulge to my ass while Al started to tongue me. If anything, this helped me ease into the proceedings. Chapman helpt me out of my shirt while forcibly grinding his dick to my ass. The Tex-ass brute wanted in there. But I needed Smith to warm me up first.

“Shit… You’re nice, H… I’m going to rip you a new one!…” sighed the trucker threateningly in my ear. To me, the trucker looked like the hit-n-run type. He would bend me over, fill me up, and leave with a bloody dick and dirty grin. Luckily, Alex Smith was here to make love to me, even if Chapman had other plans.
“Why don’t you studs show me what I have to work with? Drop those socks, and grab those cocks! I want some dessert cream,” I groaned slutty to the adults. Leaning back to kiss Shaun. This was all it took to get the party going.

I slid to my knees and was faced with two fat cock’s. “Hmm. Al’s got the nicer one of the two,” I thought, watching the throbbing sticks slapping my face. Even though both were of similar size. I grabbed a hold and set to work. Sucking them off with apparent joy. Having to shut my brain from all the disgusted thoughts that unexpectedly spooked around up there.

Chapman was all for the idea of sandwiching my sorry ass between them. Ruthlessly double-penetrating it, whether I could handle it or not. The Doc squinted his eyes dangerously and warned the trucker.
“Best tone it down a bit, Shaun!“.
“Really?” Chapman incredulously asked as he looked down. Watching me expertly deep-throat the slender ten-and-a-half-inch red-hot poker with ease. The butch alpha top seemed impressed. So was I, to be honest. Chapman wasn’t as wide as Alex. The cock fitted nicely in the back of my mouth.

I suggested to the brute, “… Yeah. Strap on a raincoat and slick it up, Chapman. I’ll let you park it deep inside while Doc S seeds my throat. He knows what I like. But play nice! Or else!” I said warningly. Getting up and pulling my white joggers off. Revealing Al’s thin leather chaps underneath. Alex’s mouth dropped open. He had clearly not realized I had worn the kinky garment all day already. Sitting on all fours on one of the beds.
Again, warning the trucker, “… Nice and easy now! Or I’ll have your ass hauled to jail, Chapman.“
Watching the trucker snap on a rubber, moving closer to the garage.

The trucker was about to mercilessly penetrate my twinky boy-cunt anyway. But, the angry glares from both Al and me snapped the trucker out of it. He switched gears in a heartbeat. And slowly entered the darkened love tunnel. Letting me get used to his girth. I set the tempo. Moving deliberately back over the trucker’s big rig. Feeling Al’s manhood part my lips. I got spit-roasted for the first time in my life. And loved it! However, The Redneck really was a nasty Alpha top. Using his cock like a weapon. This wasn’t love. This was ruthless lust. I finally understood why Alex Smith only topped his clients. So, after ten or so minutes, I flipped over on my back and offered my hole to Alex.

The trucker straddled my face after removing his shiny black jeans and work boots. Feeding me his fuel hose. Facing away from the Doc plugging my hole. Throat fucking me while Alex rimmed his gaping Tex-ass back country highway. Making the trucker grunt dirty. Moaning like his ass had never been tongue-fucked. Giving me a first face full of pure, un-leaded Texan cream. I could feel him fill up the condom in my mouth.

I felt Smith rubber my dick. Spit-lubing it with his drool. And while Chapman was still coming down off the adrenaline high, he parked Shaun’s ass over it. The man screamed for real now. Waking half the motel. He glared up at the Doc. But Alex had him in a headlock. Pumping the Tex-ass over my eight-inch dick by the throat. I met Al’s tempo, and together, we fucked the top into submission. Making him cry in delight at the onslaught. It was clear that this straight guy had never been fucked before. Yet, after a while, he road me like the dirty cowfucker he was.

Al moved around to his front and dipped his dick into Shaun’s gasping mouth. Making ten inches of pumping, pulsating meat disappear deep into Chapman’s struggling gullet. Choking and gagging like mad. As I looked up, I saw Smith’s tailpipe wink at me. I drove a finger in his ass. Causing an avalanche of sperm to backfire. Alex Smith held the Texas Redneck down as the high-pressure hose exploded. He seeded the rubber he was wearing. I filled mine in Shaun’s stretched, rosey butt. And Chapman unloaded his cargo over my sweaty chest. It felt like a hundred-mile-an-hour head-on collision.

As Chapman rolled off me, his straight, hairy truckers-ass gripped my rubber. Pulling the stuffed thing right off my slick dick. Leaving its content dripping over my cock and balls. It took a while for Shaun to calm down. And even my ‘step bro’ was breathing like a winded bull. I just lay there grinning nastily at the two adult men I had conquered.

Sliding off the mattress. Going into the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed for bed. When I returned from the shower, Shaunthanked us, left a heavy tip, and returned, half-dressed and bendy-legged, to his truck.
At least I now knew what was in Shaun’s elusive toiletry bag. Apart from the condoms, lubes, dildo, and… gun. I thought we dodged a bullet after seeing that.
“Nice one, Harper! You’re a natural, bro,” grinned Alex nastily. “… You will sleep well tonight, Eric – ‘Preparation H’ – Harper. You’ve earned this!“
Making the Benjamin’s, Grant’s, and Lincon’s rain over my half-naked ass.

< Continued in Part 5 of 5 >

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Thank you for reading this story.
Please give it a Like or a Comment if you are inclined to do so.
And if your hands are not too dirty from all the cum! 😉

( C )StrykerJ – December 2024

Wait, what? Anton couldn’t forget Brandon at all? And the cheating little fuckboy isn’t done with his girlfriend’s big brother, either? Honestly, these devious, delusional boys!

If you’re in the mood for some seriously messy, sneaky sex, I just released “Sloppy”: think shy twink meets muscle jock, trying to keep their bareback exploits secret at work. 

Happy reading!

-Alex

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I’d steeled myself, as I walked into the kitchen, to be ambushed again. Ready to put the previous day’s commitment to the test: to tell Brandon, and my sister, and my mom that no, I wasn’t looking for a workout buddy or gym company. To stand resolute in the face of their protests and his inevitable flirting. 

Instead, the room was empty. As if, in my eagerness to snip Brandon out of my life, I’d sliced out everyone else, too. Collateral damage, amid my desperate attempt to wrench back some control.

Even so, it felt like I was holding my breath until I made it to the car. Body only unclenching as I pulled into the parking lot, the mental checklist of the day’s focus rising, unbidden but instinctive, in my head. A catalog of machines, and reps, and muscle groups, reassuring in its complexity.

Only to stumble to a halt, at finding Brandon stood outside the sliding glass doors. 

“Hey, Anton.”

Yesterday’s shorts and shirt, the hand-me-downs my mom had dug out for him. Backpack slung casually over one shoulder, only the way he was gripping the strap – his fingers white with tension – gave the game away. That, and how he couldn’t quite hold my eye; his gaze skittering, as though Brandon still wasn’t quite sure he even wanted to make his presence known.

“What’re you doing here?” 

I made no effort to soften my tone, to sound welcoming, and he flinched from it like I’d snapped at him. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, gnawing nervously. 

“I was… I was hoping we could…”

I forced myself to remember how I’d felt after we kissed. How I’d stumbled back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed; fighting fresh waves of guilt and shame, angry that I kept making the same, stupid mistakes over and over. 

“No. Go home.” I made to walk around him.

Brandon stepped to the side, blocking me. “Just… just to work out! Please, Anton!”

I rocked on my heels, trying to pull up sharply enough so as not to touch him. That alone felt fraught; enough to stop me from simply sweeping him out of my way now.

“I said go.”

It didn’t matter how he looked up at me, I told myself. How big his eyes got, under that sweep of fringe. I couldn’t rely on some cheating fuckboy to be the grown-up, which meant that I had to be.

After a long, drawn-out moment, he stepped to the side. Gaze heavy on me, as I walked past him and into the lobby.

“Just you, today?” 

I looked up, pulling my card back from the scanner. 

Ally was smiling from behind the counter, but it was a knowing, pointed sort of grin. 

“Yeah,” I told him, curtly. 

His eyebrow lifted as he looked, conspicuously, past me.

I didn’t need to turn to see what – or who – he was looking at. “Stop it.”

Ally looked back at me. “You’re just going to leave him out there?”

Gritting my teeth, I counted to five in my head. “He’s not my problem, okay?”

A slow nod, to that. “Well, maybe I’ll see if he wants to come in with me, then.”

I stared at him, seething, yet knowing there was no way I could let him see that. We were friends, but it was a sharp, antagonistic sort of friendship. And I knew that Ally would have no qualms whatsoever about inviting Brandon in, and whatever else he could persuade my sister’s untrustworthy boyfriend to get up to.

“Fine,” I snapped, “it’ll be me and a guest, today.”

Ally smirked at me, but I ignored it. Pushing open the door instead, and fixing Brandon with a glare.

“What the fuck are you waiting for, then?”

He scurried in as though he’d been scalded.

I waited until we were around the corner, just out of sight from the front desk, before I turned on him. Jabbing my finger against Brandon’s chest, as he backed against the wall.

“You’re a fucking little sneak, and if you pull that bullshit again I’m going to tell Kirsten everything. Got it?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. It would’ve been funny, had I not been so furious. 

“B-but…”

“Shut up.” It was hard to keep my voice down, condense my rage into a low, seething hiss. “Do whatever I tell you to do, today. Don’t fuck up, don’t get in my way. Understand?”

Brandon nodded, the motion jerky. Seemed to sag down, as if deflating, when I pulled my hand back.

I could feel his eyes on me, as I pulled off my hoodie and tossed it into a locker. Ignored it, though, simply holding out my hand for his backpack, so I could stuff it in there too. 

“W-what are we…”

“Upper body,” I interrupted. “Keep up.”

The galling thing was, I could tell he was trying to. Stoic in the face of my snapping temper; not giving me the backchat I was baiting, and which he’d undoubtedly guessed I’d use as an excuse to send him away. Working around my scant instruction – what was needed to be safe, yes, but not a scrap more – as I led him through a punishing routing of biceps, triceps, shoulders, and chest. No wheedling plays for the pity it was clear I’d never deign to supply. 

And with each concession, each accommodation to my foul mood and blunt guidance, I felt my anger growing. Hating Brandon, but hating myself more, for the white-hot kernel of frustration buried in my chest.

I pushed him flat on the bench, a hand on his shoulder. Stabbed the pin in one further weight down: knowing I was testing his limits, calling his compliant bluff.

He went to pull the bar, tensed against it. A look somewhere between confusion and surprise, when he glanced up at my thundery expression.

“I… I don’t know if…”

“It’s five pounds more than before,” I snapped. “You need to spend less time making excuses, and more time concentrating.”

He frowned, shuffling a little on the seat. Bare muscles straining, as he dragged the bar down.

“One,” I counted off, watching him with my arms folded.

His face was red by the third rep; sweating, by the fourth. Elbows wobbling a little, though I could tell from his expression that he was trying to focus. To remember what little guidance I’d given, on form, on pacing. 

“If you want to give up…” I let the offer hang there, between us.

Brandon didn’t answer. Jaw clenched tight as he made the fifth, and the sixth reps.

I squatted down, in front of him. My voice low, pitched only for the two of us to hear.

“I’m sure you’d rather just cheat your way through this.”

The seventh was fueled by anger, I knew. 

“One more… though I don’t know if you can do it,” I taunted. Shifting, knowing that it would pull the sweatpants tight around my crotch, and gratified a moment later by Brandon’s predictable glance down to the outline of my cock.

It looked like he was on the verge of exhaustion, but he still managed to drag the bar down and then – visibly shaking – lower the weights to avoid them clattering together.

I stood again, feeling his stare on me. Knowing he was waiting for something, for anything: praise, or acknowledgment of what he’d done, or whatever meager sop I might be willing to dole out.

“You did fine.” Narrow-eyed, I gestured at the bench. “Now move.”

Brandon winced, as he stood. Face suddenly colorless, as pale as if all the blood had drained from his body, as he stumbled.

I caught him as he fell into me, my arm quickly pinning him. Thinking it was a ruse, a trick for physical contact, then realizing just how limp he was.

“Fuck,” I hissed, under my breath. Feeling panicky in my chest, even as I tried to ignore it, to focus on hefting him. 

He was panting, as I laid him back down on the bench. Legs splayed around it, clothes sticking to a cold sweat. 

I nudged his cheek with my water bottle. “Drink. You’re dehydrated, I bet.”

Brandon turned his head, lips closing around the straw. Gulping, slowly at first but then more eagerly. Until I yanked the bottle away, leaving him gasping and coughing.

“Fucking idiot,” I muttered, but I knew I was only really angry at myself, for letting it happen. A childish sort of regret: the stab of sickly guilt at the cracking plastic of a favorite toy, and the sudden fear that you went too far and might never be able to fix things. “We should stop.”

“N-no.” He sounded distant, until he cleared his throat. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just… I’ll just watch. You finish.”

Shaking my head, annoyed still, I let him drag himself off the bench and onto the floor. Handed him my water bottle, his grip on it tight as he wrapped his arms around his knees. Attentive, even though still wan, as he watched me slide the pin much further down the stack.

I wasn’t sure if he was counting my sets, or indeed what Brandon might be thinking as he stared at me. Mute and practically unmoving as I worked my way through the day’s routine, as if he’d decided that his silence was my price for allowing him to observe. 

Finally, sweat dripping down me, my shirt clinging to my skin, I stood. Grudgingly held out a hand to him; waited, a moment, for him to reach up, and allow me to tug him to his feet. I braced for the feigned stumble, the conceit which would see him topple into me, but it didn’t come.

For a moment, I didn’t want to let go of his hand.

“We’re done,” I said, and headed for the locker room.

Ally was putting fresh towels out on the shelves when we got there. His sweeping stare across me was, I figured, 80% professional curiosity, and the remainder just for his own, personal interest. 

“Good workout?”

I glanced at Brandon, finding he was already looking at me. Probably wondering if I was going to bring up his premature finish.

“Fine,” I said, shortly. “Nothing special.”

Ally nodded, grinning. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the sauna, if you’ve got time?”

Usually, I’d shower and head out. Then again, usually I was working out on my own, with only my thoughts to accompany me. 

“Sure,” I told him, “we’ve got time.”

He held out a pair of towels, and for a moment I thought he was going to stand there and watch as Brandon and I undressed. Not like I’d put it past him. 

After a moment, though, Ally laughed. “I’ll let you get on with it, then.”

I tugged off my shirt as he turned away. Tossed it down on the bench, then caught sight of Brandon out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t undressing.

“Don’t you want to?” 

No reply, but he started pushing down his shorts. Adding them to the pile on the bench, before pulling his shirt off. The white briefs underneath were soaked through with sweat, practically translucent. I turned away as he peeled them down.

By the time I was undressed, pulling one of the towels around my waist, I realized Brandon was already ready. His towel hanging low on his slim hips. 

He’d follow, I figured, as I headed past the shower down to the sauna.

Ally had been right: the wood-paneled room was empty. The heat level already high, a haze of it that felt like walking through something thick and tangible. As though the air had started to solidify, resenting our bodies for the space they took up in it.

I sat down, on the upper tier of benches. Brandon taking a spot a couple of feet away; I could already hear his breathing, slightly labored in the heavy air.

Casually, I pulled my towel apart, letting the ends flop down onto the wooden slats. Saw, a moment later in my peripheral vision, Brandon slowly doing the same.

Silence, then, bar the ticking of the coals and the rasp of our breath. 

“Why did you come?”

I saw the jerk of his head; the way he tried to catch himself, a split-second later.

“To… to work out.”

“Liar.”

I let my head loll back, against the rough wood. Eyes closed, the heat building around me like a dense cloak. It was a different kind of sweating, this, compared to outside, straining at the weights. As though your insides were swelling, bloating in your skin, and no room for your body’s moisture but to squeeze through your pores.

“I didn’t want it to be over.”

I laughed; it was a raw sound, leaden with disbelief. “You didn’t want what to be over? Cheating on your girlfriend? Pissing me off? Showing what a greedy little asshole you are?”

“You liked fucking me.” Brandon sounded frustrated.

My shoulders scraped against the wall when I shrugged. “I like tight holes and friction,” I told him, letting amusement ease into my tone. “Don’t take it personally.”

It was easier to say it, when I couldn’t see him.

“I… I can still be a hole for you.”

Opening my eyes, I let my head loll to the side. So that I could see his flushed face, the expression I could only read as hopeful. 

“No, you can’t.”

Brandon’s lips narrowed, though I didn’t get a chance to hear what he planned to say.

The door swung open, Ally strolling in with a towel around his waist and a grin.

“Thought I’d join you boys.”

I could see Brandon shift a little, clearly wondering if he was meant to cover himself up again. Not that Ally would encourage any such thing; he sat down, on the bench opposite, and tugged his own towel away. 

“Aren’t you meant to be working?” I asked him.

Ally winked. “Shift finished. Figured I’d find out how your workout went. See if you were still… pumped.”

I’d seen his predatory stares before. Ally made no disguise of his appetite for guys, though given he looked like he did, I didn’t think many of those in his crosshairs ended up complaining about the experience. 

“So, which part of him did you work out?” His grin was salacious.

I scowled at him. “Don’t.”

He laughed. “So touchy. You need to get laid, Anton. Clearly the endorphins from lifting aren’t hitting the spot any more.”

“Can we not just sit here and enjoy the heat?” I stared at him, until he mimed zipping his grinning lips.

He was older than me, bigger too. A beefier, showier sort of muscle; a look I knew went down well, when people came in looking for trainers. The fact he was handsome and had a big dick probably didn’t hurt, either, and I wondered if his was the first uncut cock that Brandon had seen. Ally had been my first experience with one, in person anyway.

“I can turn the temperature up,” he suggested, “if you think you can take it?” Watching Brandon as he asked.

Brandon stared right back. “I can take it.”

Ally smirked, flashing me a look. “Oh, I bet you can.”

“More steam,” I said, interjecting, “less talking.”

He was laughing as he reached for the dial. Billowing clouds quickly following, though not so thick as to prevent me from seeing Ally’s knowing expression.

“What?” I snapped.

He raised an eyebrow, as if to remind me that I’d been the one demanding silence. 

I glowered at him. “What, asshole?” Said softer, but no less caustic with it.

“I mean, if I was interrupting something…” 

It didn’t take much imagination to finish his sentence for him. “You weren’t,” I said, coldly. Part of me wanted to glance at Brandon alongside me, to see his reaction, but I didn’t let myself.

Ally made up for it, anyway. The stare he gave my sister’s boyfriend was positively ravenous. 

“Can I borrow him, then?”

“No,” I said, through gritted teeth, “he’s taken.”

“Oh yes.” Ally seemed amused, though that didn’t stop him from spreading his muscled thighs a little wider, too. It wasn’t clear just whose benefit that was for, though he didn’t seem to mind attention from whatever quarter it might come from. “Your sister.”

The emphasis on ‘sister’ left me glaring. “Right. Exactly.”

He laughed, looking between us. “And I’m sure she” – there was that heavy-handed tone again – “knows exactly what to do with a boy like that. Though maybe not quite so well as her angry older brother does.”

“Ally.” 

I wanted him to stop talking. Mentally kicking myself for being so stupid as to bring Brandon into the gym with me, for letting us get redirected to the sauna. I should’ve known Ally would try to stir things up somehow.

“Oh, come on Anton… we’re all friends, here.”

I clenched my fists, still glaring at him. “Are we?”

His chuckle said I was hilarious. Ally turned to Brandon. “He’s a rough fuck, isn’t he? I mean, I wasn’t complaining, but I’m sure hate-sex isn’t to everyone’s taste.”

For a moment, his casual, conversational tone lulled my brain into complacency. It took a moment for the words themselves to sink in. Too late, though, to get in first, before Brandon could pipe up.

“I think he actually hates me.”

Ally licked his lips. “Then I’m surprised you could walk, after he was done with you.”

Brandon shrugged. “I wasn’t complaining,” he said, echoing Ally’s own words.

A pointed glance down, the smirk spreading even wider. “Yeah, I can tell the memory isn’t exactly off-putting for you, either.”

I followed Ally’s stare, to the hard twink cock jutting up in Brandon’s lap. His arms hanging limp at his sides, no attempt whatsoever to cover himself up.

“Jesus.”

Ally snorted at my reaction. “Surely you remember what it was like being eighteen.”

“He’s a pervert,” I snapped, angry again.

Somehow Ally’s second glance across Brandon managed to be even more lascivious. “Interesting. Wanna come sit on my lap, little pervert, and tell me all about it?”

I’d learned my lesson; spoke quickly, before the little fuckboy could even take a breath. “He’s not interested.”

“Well no, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he’s interested in.” He turned, focusing on Brandon again. “You’d blow him right now, wouldn’t you.”

A nod.

I grunted annoyance.

“And what if he wanted to fuck you. Right here, on the bench, with me watching?”

Another nod.

“Would you sit on his cock, and spread your legs, so I could see you get stretched by the fat dick I know we’ve both had inside us already?” 

With a hiss of frustration, I turned to grab Brandon’s chin. Suddenly desperate to stop him from moving his head any more, from giving those infuriating nods which betrayed all the fucked-up stuff he and I had been doing. “Enough!”

Brandon blinked at me. If it was uncomfortable, my fierce grip, he wasn’t letting it show. 

“I don’t mind him watching.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid little hole.” The words stabbed out of me with venom, not caring that Ally was listening. The only thing that seemed important was stopping Brandon from saying things that I might have to hear.

I saw his eyes dip down. Not so much triumph as hunger there, when he met my gaze again. “You’re hard.”

“You talk too much.”

I felt his swallow, against my fingers. “So shut me up, then.”

It was as though my body was on autopilot, yanking Brandon’s head down into my lap. My own jaw clenched, as his mouth closed around my cock. Pushing my fingers through his lank, sweaty hair; gripping tight, as I pulled him in close to my crotch and felt his throat spasm around my tip.

I stared daggers through the steam, at Ally’s chuckle. 

“Knew it.”

“Fuck off,” I snapped.

He sat back, looking undaunted by my anger. Arms folded across his broad chest, watching me pin Brandon’s head between my legs. “You might want to let him breathe, at some point.”

I jerked my hips up. Only an inch or so, but enough to leave the little fuckboy writhing across my thigh as I dug deeper into his gullet. “He gets what he’s given.”

Ally’s grin quirked. “Now, there’s the fun Anton.”

I waited until Brandon’s fingers were digging near-painfully into my leg, before I dragged his head up. The sound of his coughing and spluttering loud, though only for a moment. I felt the rush past my spit-slicked cock from his frantic gasp for air, as I mashed him back into my groin.

“What?” I demanded, at Ally’s amused look.

He shrugged, idly reaching down and pulling at his cock. It looked thicker than before, fatter, and there was something undeniably satisfying at knowing that was from watching me ream Brandon’s tight throat. 

“Just pleased to be here, to witness this thawing of hostilities,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, half-distracted by the way Brandon’s tongue was trying its best to lap around me. Levering my hips up, a rhythmic stab that felt softer and squishier with each deep stroke, as the broad, swollen flare of my tip dredged more and more throat slime from him. “You talk too much.”

Ally licked his lips. “You gonna abuse my throat to shut me up, too?”

I snorted, in disbelief. Reached down into Brandon’s contorted lap, to shove his legs apart even as he sucked me. Pinching his cock at the base, and wagging it, pointedly. “You think he doesn’t like it?” 

A chuckle. “Clearly ‘abuse’ was the wrong word.” He stroked himself again, easing back the loose skin. “So this isn’t the first time, then?”

I pulled Brandon’s head up, just enough that he could suck in air around the first few inches of my shaft. Even in the heat of the sauna, his drool felt hot as it ran down between my legs. Spreading my thighs was enough for him to get the message, his fingers gently kneading at my balls.

“You don’t need to tell me it’s a bad idea.”

Ally shook his head, as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. “Don’t come running to me for your moral compass,” he told me. “Hell, I wanna see you ruin the little slut.”

I felt more than heard Brandon’s groan, vibrating through my crotch. My fingers were already soaked with the precum that’d been liberally slopping out of his rigid teen prick; he was slight enough that I could reach down, along the length of his back, and push those greasy digits against his hole.

Another groan, as I dug inside him. One finger first, but quickly adding a second; pulling up, sending Brandon squirming onto his knees to try to alleviate the stretching of his tender ass.

When I jerked his head up, off my dick, his eyes pupils were swollen. Panting, the bottom half of his face a mess of drool. Cheeks flushed red. 

The urge to kiss him was intense; I could feel Brandon straining against my fingers knotted in his tangled hair, desperate to bring our lips together.

Ally laughed. “Just kiss him, already.”

My grip on him had barely loosened, and Brandon was surging forward. 

Mouth on mine with an intensity that made me gasp, wriggling up into my lap as his arms snaked around my neck. The kiss animal and needy, as the head of his cock scraped against my abs.

No obstacle, then, for both my hands to toy with his hole. Brandon’s thighs straddling mine, spreading him as I ground a third finger into his clenching body. Working him open, pulling and stretching, as he grunted and whimpered into my mouth.

“I want to see his face, when you dick him.”

I wasn’t sure if the annoyed noise came from my chest, or from Brandon’s. Frustrated at the interruption, at Ally’s reminder that we weren’t on our own, now. Even if the thought of flaunting his cheating twink body as I slam-fucked him was a turn-on of its own.

He let me twist him, our sweat easing the maneuver, until he was reversed on my lap. Slim legs dangling, and my cock pressed into the small of his back. I could see Ally’s fascinated stare from over Brandon’s shoulder, the hunger in his expression. Wished, suddenly, that I could see the scene from his perspective: witness my own bad decisions as though from across the room. Know that the knot of guilt and shame and overwhelming lust was someone else’s problem, not a mistake that I kept on repeating. 

A mistake, but that didn’t stop me from lifting Brandon, my hands behind his thighs. Splaying him wide as I did it, and feeling the wet head of my erection slide between his cheeks.

He reached down, straining to contort himself. Fist wrapped around my shaft, just below the fat tip, guiding me into place. 

The moan, as I stretched him open, left me wondering if I’d cum almost instantly. Imagining the spray of it, the way it would leak down around my shaft and drip across my balls. 

Brandon reached back, his palm flat against my cheek, and the unexpected intimacy of it set my brain reeling. Losing focus for a split-second, dropping him down so that my whole length skewered him in one, quick stab.

“Oh fuck oh fuck…” 

His panicked exclamation and Ally’s snort of amusement blending together, as the blood rushed in my ears and I grit my teeth from the surge of pleasure radiating out from my groin. Brandon’s body a vice around my dick, a universe of squeezing hands all seemingly competing to grope at me with the greatest intensity. 

When the tunnel-vision gradually cleared, I realized Ally was jerking off as he watched us. Fat cock easing through his fist, the half-exposed tip gleaming as it bubbled out his own, natural lube.

There was something about being watched, about knowing Ally was getting off on seeing me deep in Brandon’s hole, that was dizzying. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips across his neck. Tasting the sharpness of his sweat, as I fought the urge to bite down, just to see what would happen if I marked him so obscenely. 

His hips were already shifting, tilting forward and back. Body chasing the friction of my cock working inside him. Brandon hissed as I lifted him, then let him sink back down until I felt the weight of him against my balls. 

I tugged him up again, only a few inches yet the both of us groaning. Building up a momentum, faster and faster, until he was bouncing on my lap and his squeaks of stretched pleasure were louder than the hiss of the steaming coals.

I caught his earlobe between my lips, feeling him stiffen as I gently worked on it with my teeth. “Finger yourself, while I fuck you.”

“A-Anton…” It was a wheedling, desperate little whine. “It’s too much.”

I stabbed my hips up, feeling him shudder in my grip. Waited until he’d just about stopped writhing. “It wasn’t a suggestion, you little shit. And if you make me tell you again, I swear to god…”

I wasn’t even sure what I was threatening, or what fears swarmed Brandon’s mind. Only heard his desperate whimper as he reached down, and then seconds later the squirm of his fingertips around my shaft.

“I…I … I’m too tight!”

“Fuck,” I hissed, losing my patience. Yanked his legs up and to the side, so that I could wrap one of my arms around both of them at once. Pinning him against my chest, his lean body easy to wield; stroking my palm down the smooth skin, only pausing to tug his erection out so that it strained, twitching and leaking, against his tightly-squeezed thighs.

I reached down to grab his hand. Working my fingers into the clench of his fist. A halting breath, the sound of it catching in his throat, as I pushed two of his digits out.

My mouth was so close to his ear, I could feel the soft skin of it brushing my lips. “What are you?” I demanded, my voice little more than a hiss. 

Brandon wriggled, just once, in my hold on him. As if to test my grip, yes, but more than that: my conviction that this was how I wanted to use him, now.

“H-hole.”

Holding his hand, I stroked his fingertips around the taut spread of his muscle, pulled around my dick. Showing him the way his body had opened to me. “Louder.”

“A… a hole!” 

He gasped, as I pushed the first digit in. The tip of his index finger stretching him wider still, pressed tight against my shaft. 

“I knew you could take it,” I taunted. “Such a sloppy little cheat.”

A reedy groan, the breaths coming out in sharp little jags, as I worked his second finger in alongside the first. Biting back my own growl of pleasure, as his body tightened around me. The urge to thrust into him uncontrollable.

“No tapping out, fuckboy,” I warned him, and then gave up on holding back. 

Levering myself up, off the bench, to drive my cock into him. Brandon practically vibrating as I clutched him to me, squeezing his legs together with my arm behind his knees. Feeling the rub of his fingers as he pulled at his tender, overloaded hole, and over it all – over his panting and whimpering, my grunting as I pounded him, and the gooey, sticky, lewd sounds of his mauled ass – the wet slap of Ally’s stroking hand as he watched us rut.

I locked eyes with him, past Brandon’s shoulder. Gaze caught on the wolfish twist of his smirk: like he’d known this was in me all along, this hunger for pleasure and control, shot through with an exhibitionist streak.

Part of me wanted to cuss him out, for being so damn smug, but I was having too much fun knowing he was watching as I long-dicked breathless sobs out of Brandon’s pretzeled body.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck… Anton, I’m… oh… Anton!”

He shuddered in my grip, and then a second later I felt the hot, heavy splash of cum across my legs. Brandon’s trapped cock spewing indiscriminately, as he whined and twisted, his hole spasming around me.

I buried my face into the sweat-slicked meat of his shoulder and roared as I unloaded in him. 

The sound of it louder as I churned that cream inside him, already feeling it ooze out through the gaps between his fingers and my shaft. The smell of cum strong, fighting with the animal musk rising from his body. 

Reaching down, I yanked his hand free. Ignoring Brandon’s hiss of shock at the sudden loss inside himself, as I pushed his gooey fingers to his mouth and watched him lap up my spew. 

My cock slipped out of him with an audible pop. 

“There’s cum all down your legs, bro,” Ally pointed out, still stroking. 

I could feel it dripping, ticklish against the hairs. Shoved Brandon off my lap, down onto his knees; he wobbled there, expression glazed.

I nudged him with my foot. “Clean your mess up, asshole.”

He bent, supporting himself on his hands, and ran his tongue up my outstretched calf.

A slow drag, as if he couldn’t quite believe where he was, what he was doing. Sweat and cum gathering across his tongue and smearing around his mouth, Brandon’s lips glazed with it.

He paused, as he reached my knee. Looked up at me, eyes wide. 

“Show me.”

Lips parting: the slop already drooling out of the corners of his mouth. His nostrils flaring as he panted. 

“Keep going.”

Less of a rasp, from his tongue, as he swiped it across my thigh: the friction diluted by the building goo. Bubbles of it as he snatched each breath, his hands gripping my legs to steady himself. 

It was a plaintive, desperate, needy look on his face, when he reached my groin. Staring up, my half-hard cock against his cheek: I wasn’t sure if he wanted permission or forgiveness.

“Did I tell you to stop, fuckboy?” 

Brandon’s expression was unreadable, but his dick was still hard. Wagging between his spread legs, as though he’d not cum in a month.

I hissed through clenched teeth, as he tilted his head back and slipped the fat length of my cock between his lips. Suckling me with his mouth full of slime, a teasing bath for what’d just been reaming him.

“Fuck, that’s so fuckin’ hot,” Ally grunted, pushing his fat prick down. Hips bucking as he fucked his fist, abs clenching. Scant seconds later, and he was spraying Brandon’s back with his load. Splashes of it landing heavy on the eighteen-year-old’s smooth skin, some of it reaching his hair. “Fuck!”

Brandon jerked, as though burned. Like he’d forgotten there was anyone else in the sauna but the two of us, him and me.

And suddenly, I was furious.

“What the hell, dude?” I yelled at Ally, as he panted and milked out the dregs of his load. Pushed myself up, off the bench – Brandon almost toppling back in surprise – to glare at my friend. “That’s my sister’s fucking boyfriend!” Reaching down, I dragged Brandon up by the bicep. 

Ally was staring at me with a look of bemusement. “Overreacting, much?”

“Not okay, dude!” I snapped back. 

I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of Ally’s load dripping down Brandon’s spine left me inexplicably outraged. 

Words beyond me, I shoved open the door and pushed Brandon out of it, following quickly on his heels. I could still hear Ally’s laughter as the glass swung shut.

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