Author: admin

“Jeezus! Mr. Albrecht!” I exclaimed as I opened the bathroom door. My best friend’s father was posing naked in the mirror with a rock hard, massive erection.

“Jake… what are you… knock?” Mr. A struggled to get out. I didn’t make a move to leave, I just stood there taking him in. My hungry eyes devouring the man of my jerk off fantasies. My shorts were tenting, I caught Mr. A sneaking a peak. “Chad isn’t home this weekend.” Mr. Albrecht broke the silence hanging in the air. His cock hadn’t gotten any softer.

“Oh, that’s this weekend?” I tried to sound as convincing as possible. I was a fixture at the Albrecht house throughout my childhood. I was a latchkey kid – both my parents worked full time – and the Albrechts had a kickass pool, so I spent countless days there. Chad and I were inseparable until college, he went to A&M on a football scholarship and I went to State on a football scholarship.

“Yeah, he’s visiting Amy. Afraid he won’t be home until Tuesday.” Mr Albrecht explained, but I already knew. It was summer break for us, and I was well aware of Chad’s schedule, especially visiting his girlfriend. “Brenda and the girls are with the in-laws on a shopping trip.” Mr. A continued. Mrs. Albrecht was a very successful private practice dermatologist, catering to the upscale, wealthy clientele in the city and suburbs. As Mr. Albrecht tells it, he was a dumb college tight end for State who lucked into an entry level analyst position through booster connections. Now he was a marketing VP at a major regional company that was growing into a national brand. 

“Were you… flexing?” I asked, pushing it further, forcing myself to be daring. Silence again hung in the air like an anvil waiting to drop.

“I guess you could say that.” Mr. A finally admitted. His cock was softening, hanging half hard but still incredibly impressive. “Posing?” He offered, before he finally came out with it, seeing my hungry expression. “I was chatting with some frat jock from St. Dorman’s” Mr. Albrecht finally admitted under my horny, wanting look and severely tented shorts. “I was trying to find a good angle… I know I need to get in better shape…” the older man lamented. So he was talking to a jock from the small private college in our suburb just outside of the city.

“Mr. A, I’m not in a frat, but I’m a college athlete… I think you look incredible.” I tried to be as confident as I could. Mr. Albrecht studied me from behind his full beard. Strands of silver were beginning to become more prominent around his jawline and chin. His massive, muscular, beefy, and furry body turned more fully towards me. His dark dense fur coated his full middle aged muscles.

“Brenda and I… we’re just so busy… that part of our lives, just isn’t… it just isn’t the same.” Mr. Albrecht tried to justify himself to me.

“Mr. A, I won’t tell anyone.” I assured him with a genuine smile. “I saw your truck out front before I came in.” I grinned bigger. There had been growing tension between us the last few times I saw him, I’d planned this in hopes that my hunch was right. The smile returned to Mr. A’s face too. Damn, he had a great smile, the man lit up any room he was in. At 6’5 260lbs of solid, beefy, ex-jock muscle with a such a winning and affable way, it was impossible for him not to. Mr. A’s cock had returned to its complete rigidity.

“You’re sure?” He asked, paternally.

“I’ve thought about this at least once a day since I started jerking off.” I said bluntly but honestly. Mr. Albrecht nearly growled with lust after I said it. 

“Let’s go.” My best friend’s father said huskily as he exited the bathroom and strutted to his bedroom.

We burst into the spacious master bedroom one after the other. My frame was a lanky 6’2 180lbs of lean, shredded jock muscle. I burst onto the college football scene in the second half of my freshman season, catching TDs in 5 of our 6 last games – including 2 against Tech to go ahead and then seal the victory. My Sophomore season I was able to find some consistency and put up above average numbers for the season. I’d spent nearly every minute not on the field trying to pack weight onto my frame. My lean strong, cut muscles contrasted nicely with the beefy thickness of Mr. Albrecht’s muscled build.

His hands were on me, and I became aware that I was still wearing clothes with this gorgeous naked man in front of me. I jumped out of my clothes, Mr. A chuckled at my sudden nakedness. He sized me up before grunting his approval. “Hotter than the St. D’s frat jock for sure.” We both laughed as we started to paw at each other’s bodies. “Fucking hung too!” Mr. A growled when he found my 8.5 inch thick uncut cock.

I clawed at Mr. Albrecht’s furry muscles. My mind was buzzing, my libido was churning. I planted a kiss on Mr. A’s lips, he was surprised and flinched to pull back before allowing himself to get into it. He wrapped his arms around me in an embrace as our lips parted and tongues danced. We melted into each other. 

“What was it you fantasized about?” My friend’s dad asked cheekily.

“Lots of things… usually ending with you fucking me.” I answered honestly.

“Christ!” Mr. A hissed. His cock throbbed between his, leaking precum onto my abs. “I haven’t done that since college.

“Frat jock was going to be your first swing that way since then?” I asked, almost incredulous. The ex-jock nodded sheepishly.

“I’m desperate, Jake. It’s been years.” The early 40’s, father of 4 confessed.

“That seals it, I’m getting fucked.” I said with a devilish grin. Mr. A’s excitement returned.

“You sure? How do we do this? How do we start?” He asked every question that popped into his head.

“You ever eat ass?” I asked, hopefully. He shook his head no. “Do you wanna? I’m going to need to get warmed up, I’m usually on top.” I said grabbing my oversized jock cock for emphasis. Not that I needed to, Mr. A’s cock was just as thick as mine and looked to have me beat in length by a hair.

“I’ve wanted to try.” Mr. Albrecht said, his steely gaze boring into me. 

“How about to start, you go about it like you would eating a pussy.” I offered and hopped on the bed on all fours with my ass out. I was typically a top, but for Coach Mendenhall a few times, and now, Mr. Albrecht I was a bottom and I knew I’d love it.

I moaned loudly as I felt his beard, then lips, then tongue on my hole. I had a dusting of brown hair on the alabaster skin of my round, hard ass. Mr. A had spread my cheeks and was now getting bolder based on my reactions. He was gaining confidence and figuring out how to drive me crazy with the combination of his beard and tongue. He really got into it, never trying to pull back or take a break. He was experimenting with different combos, feeling me squirm under his oral assault on my hole. 

Finally, after he nearly made me cum a few times from eating my hole alone, he added a finger. It replaced his tongue, digging into my drum tight hole. He let me get used to it before doubling up with a second digit. I was on edge, struggling to focus on anything other than getting plugged by the man of my whack off dreams.

“I can’t take it anymore, Mr. A, I need you to fuck me.” I said, my breath haggard. He pulled out his fingers and I flipped over. The older man looked down at me intensely. His chestnut and gray beard was plastered to his face with spittle.

“You’re sure, Jake?” That father figure asked. “I don’t have any condoms and we really should…” He was nervous.

“Mr. Albrecht, I need you inside of me.” I said firmly, matching his intense gaze. He grabbed a small travel size bottle of lube he must have kept hidden from his wife. He greased up his massive pole and nudged it into position.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I stopped him. A momentary look of terror crossed his face. “Finger in some lube first. Only took one guy a few times before and you’re way bigger.” I instructed.

Mr. A relaxed and did as he was told, before getting back into position. He was more confident now. I felt his eyes travel up my body before making eye contact. I did the same, cherishing the moment. I felt his cockhead snug against my tight hole. “You’re the sexist man I’ve ever seen, Jake. I really mean it.” He surprised me, talking earnestly, never breaking eye contact and leaning in for a kiss. Then he lifted my legs and pushed his hips forward.

My hole resisted, but his words rattled around in my head. This stud of a man was just as into me as I was into him. He felt just as lucky as I did. My hole quivered and melted around his thick dad cock. He sunk a few inches in before meeting resistance and pausing for me.

“Goddamn, Mr. A, you’re fucking huge!” I cried out, the discomfort and pain were laced with pleasure. It had been over a year since the last time Coach M fucked me, even then we only hooked up a handful of times, and like I said – he had nothing on Mr. A’s weapon. He was the only other person who’d penetrated me.

“Oh shit! Sorry! It’s too much isn’t it? Let me-” Mr. A flashed back to his terrified expression. Someone had done a number on the man.

“Mr. A-” I tried to interrupt him, but he wouldn’t let me. I grabbed his arms to stop him from pulling out.

“Brenda always says its too much!” 

“Mr. A! Calm down, I just need a sec to get used to your monster tool. You cool?” I said, pulling the man close. He stayed buried a few inches in as we quickly made out.

“I’m cool. Sorry about that, she hates how big I am.” He said sheepishly. 

“Well, I love it. You just have to be patient with me.” I smiled. I felt his cock throb harder.

“You really like it?” It was as if he didn’t realize such a thing could be desired.

“You’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen, Mr. A. Like I said, I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time. So far, it’s gone better than I ever imagined.” I leveled with the ex-jock and he relaxed again, this time for good.

“Ok, Jake, I’ll follow your lead.” He breathed.

I felt the man up and we kissed for a few minutes. We both relaxed and he began to gently rock his cock back and forth. He felt up my flanks and found my nipples, teasing them with his mouth and fingers before pushing my legs back and gently fucking against the resistents, he’d clearly learned some serious control over that thing with his wife.

“Easy.” I cautioned after a few more inches, and he slowed to stop.

“I can’t believe it, this is incredible.” The man wasn’t even all the way in and he was having the time of his life. 

“Give me a sec.” It was intense for me. I was new and inexperienced as a bottom and this man had even less experience topping. I was feeling stretched and full and pain and discomfort. But slowly the pleasure became more and more pronounced. His patience and control helped me through it when I struggled.

“You’re doing great, Slugger.” Mr. A cooed. It was a nickname he and my dad had for me as a kid. They were Chad and my t-ball coaches and they called me Slugger because of how I attacked the ball on the tee.

“Fuck!” I cried out, my ass releasing and letting Mr. A sink the rest of the way in. No one had called me that in years, I’d almost forgotten about it. Mr. A stared at me smirking. His big bearded face was confident, caring, paternal, lustful. He sensed the overwhelming sensations dissipating and smoothly thrust back a tiny bit before pushing his hips forward and bottoming out deeper inside of me. By now, all I was feeling was pleasure. Globs of precum oozed continuously from my aching, throbbing cock.

“I’ve never felt anything like this.” Mr. A was glowing as he gently and smoothly pulled back until he was mostly out before fucking me with the first few inches on his massive dad dick, giving me a break from the deep penetration. We were both sweaty and breathing heavy as he saw his club of a cock in and out of me, creeping deeper each time. He studied my expression on each inward stroke afraid that it could all stop if he pushed too deep. But he kept pushing deeper, testing the boundaries.

“I haven’t either… You’re fucking enormous.” I moaned, my eyes rolling back as Mr. A’s cock thrust deeper and deeper. I opened them again as he stopped going deeper. It was like he could sense I was getting sore before I did and backed off. He was right, and I was thankful.

“I can’t last much longer, Slugger.” Mr. A groaned, thrusting the first few inches of his cock in and out of me. I didn’t answer, I was over the edge. Sheets of cum erupted from my big, thick uncut cock. I painted my chest and abs, even caught a few strays on my face.

Mr. A howled as my ass clamped down and his massive member pulsed, power washing my innards with his potent load. He gripped my legs hard as he tried to resist the urge to ride out his nut. Instead he stood stark still dumping his tsunami in me. He had tears in his eyes as he came down from his orgasm. I was still floating and my cock was dribbling cum when he pulled out of my ass. It was by far the most intense nut of my life.

“That was – you were amazing.” Mr. A said thoughtfully as he flopped down next to me, a sweaty mess. I rolled over on top of his big body and gave him a deep kiss, surprising him.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” I breathed after I broke the kiss.

We lay there together for a while just enjoying the company of the other. I replayed our coupling in my head and started to get hard again. Mr. A was looking at my boner with his own rigid spike.

“I’ll drive this time.” I said with a cheeky grin before straddling the ex-jock’s big, muscled, furry body and lowered myself until his cockhead touched my hole. He steadied me as I grabbed his thick club of a dick and lowered onto it. My ass protested the battering ram before finally relenting and my best friend’s dad breached my hole again.

“Shiiit!” Mr. A bit his lip as I slowly lowered myself. The penetration was smoother, I was more open and relaxed, plus my hole was lubed with lube and cum now. My hard cock jutted leaked precum over Mr. A’s hairy, sweaty, and solid midsection as I bottomed on his cock. I got my composure and started to lightly bounce.

Slowly I grew more and more daring. But I knew I wouldn’t last long in this position, Mr. A’s massive dick pressed against my prostate almost continuously, riding him like this. I was seeing stars, but it felt otherworldly. Then I stood up. Lightheaded I got down on the bed next to the older man. 

“I almost fucked myself off doing that. I don’t want this to be over yet.” I panted, my cock was twitching and jerking. Mr. A had a prideful look, like he was beginning to realize just how hot for him I was.

“I know what you need, Slugger.” He said in his deep baritone. I could have cum then. He instructed me to get on all-fours. The way he was now taking charge gave me a shiver of anticipation. I looked over my shoulders and watched him get into place. He kissed my ass with his cockhead, then grabbed my hips and pushed in, in one solid confident stroke. He fucked a few inches in and out gently as my ass opened for him again. This time, he allowed himself to gather some momentum, fucking in and out with more pace.

“Jeezus!” I bellowed, Mr. A was drilling my hole. He still wasn’t using his whole length, he could sense how much I could take and then he gave it to me. His thick girth stretched my hole which gripped his dad cock tightly. A particular hard inward thrust nearly knocked the wind out of me.

“You’re doing great, Slugger. You know Dad wouldn’t give you anything you couldn’t handle.” He muttered as his hand slid up my sweaty flank. I shuddered and groaned. I didn’t know if he realized he just referred to himself as dad. Mr. A methodically fucked me open doggie style. Slowly, deeper, and deeper. My big, fat uncut cock whacked my abs with each thrust, it felt almost excruciatingly good. He slowed the pace and intensity, probably pulling himself back from the edge of a nut. “How’s my boy doing?” He whispered in my ear.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this.” I huffed, sweat dripping off both of us. Mr. A chuckled and smiled.

“You and me both, Slugger. Hold on to something, I need to bust.” The early forties father of four whispered in my ear. He’d stayed half buried in my ass the whole time. He righted himself and grabbed my hips anew. His grip was stronger, holding my jock frame in place as he deliberately built up momentum. “Tightest fucking hole.” He muttered to himself.

Our breaths became ragged as we bore deeper, more forceful. He was thrusting about ¾ of his cock into me on the deeper thrusts, his girth filling me more and more. Then, he reached between my legs and grabbed my oversized jock cock in his meaty paw. He wanted me to cum. He tugged twice to milk the load out of me as he fucked in from the other end.

The dam broke and torrent after torrent of jock jizz flooded onto the bed below me. Mr. A made unintelligible noises as my ass clamped around his massive dong and he fucked through his nut. Tears of pleasure came to my eyes as his fucking extended my orgasm longer than I was used to.

We collapsed into a sweaty, cummy mess. “That… was… better… than… last time.” I said between panting breaths. We laughed and made out through the post-coital bliss. After awhile I looked at my phone and my bubble burst. My dad had been calling and texting me repeatedly. Apparently his car broke down and he needed me to pick him up at the airport, a good 45-60 min away. I explained the situation to Mr. Albrecht and we embraced and kissed some more.

“Please tell me you want to do this again.” I looked at him before I left.

“Jake, I think it’s mutual.” He said with a grin and shooed me out to go help my dad.

Sometimes the captives attempt to resist their captors by subtly sabotaging their duties. While the acts are minor, they are met with disproportionate retaliation, reinforcing the futility of resistance.

Chapter 13: “Acts of Defiance”

The camp of Al-Nur, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the earth, was the place where defiance was met with the most primitive forms of brutality –  raw, physical expressions of power. Today, a small act of resistance from the captives would ignite a ferocious retaliation, showcasing the soldiers’ penchant for unrefined savagery.

The Discovery

A group of captives, including Aldric, Eadric, Leif, and the newer arrivals Gunnar and Torsten, had quietly sabotaged some of their daily tasks. A meal was slightly undercooked, a tent not properly erected, small acts meant to assert some control over their lives. But even these small acts had large repercussions.

When the soldiers discovered the sabotage, the camp erupted in fury. Qasim, spotting the undercooked food, roared, his face red with anger. 

Qasim: “Who did this?! Who dares to test me?!”

The soldiers quickly rounded up the suspected captives, their faces twisted in rage, their bodies primed for violence.

The Brutal Retaliation

Aldric, seen as the ringleader, was the first target. Several soldiers, led by Qasim, pounced on him. They beat him with their fists, targeting his muscular abdomen, his ribs, his face. Qasim kicked Aldric in the stomach, making him double over and vomit, his breath knocked out. 
Qasim: “You think you’re still a warrior? I’ll show you pain!”

Aldric was then dragged to a post, his hands tied above his head, exposing his back. The soldiers took turns whipping him, the lash leaving deep red welts, his back a canvas of their anger. Eadric, whose sabotage was more subtle, faced a group including Rashid. They didn’t bother with words; they used their boots, kicking him in his legs, his ribs, his once-regal face. Eadric was forced to crawl, his body bruised, his pride shattered under their feet. 
Rashid: “Crawl, prince! Crawl like the dog you are!”

They then dragged him to the ground, one soldier holding him down while another pummeled his back with fists, the sound of bones against flesh a stark reminder of their dominance.
Leif, whose strength had been mocked, was now the subject of raw force. A group of soldiers, including Omar, surrounded him. They tackled him to the ground, their punches heavy, aimed at his muscular thighs, his chest, anything that had once symbolized his strength.
Omar: “You think you’re strong? I’ll break you!”

They used sticks, whatever was at hand, to beat him, his body a mass of bruises, his once-proud physique now a reflection of their brutality. Gunnar and Torsten, the new arrivals, were not spared. Gunnar was forced to his knees, his face beaten until blood flowed, his nose broken. 
A soldier: “Welcome to your new life, beast!”

Torsten, with his youthful appearance, was thrown down, soldiers stomping on him, his cries drowned by their laughter, each stomp a lesson in submission.

The captives, each in their own way, felt the weight of their defiance, their bodies bearing the marks of the soldiers’ anger. The pain became a teacher, and the brutality, a grim lesson in the futility of resistance. For the soldiers, this was a bonding moment, their violence a shared experience that reinforced their unity. They laughed, cheered each other on, their fists and boots working in unison. 

Chapter 13.1: “The Hunt’s Reward”

The camp was abuzz with the thrill of the chase, a mock hunt that turned the captives into prey. Soldiers, fueled by the primitive rush of the hunt, chased down their targets through the dust and heat. Once caught, the captives were treated like spoils, their bodies the reward for the chase.

Leif was one such captive, his peachy ass making him a prime target. As he was tackled to the ground, the soldiers’ laughter was like the cackle of hunters over their prey. The dirt clung to his skin as they stripped him, their hands rough, their intentions clear. One soldier, named Kareem, claimed Leif first, his big cock already hard from the excitement of the chase. He entered Leif from behind, his thrusts wild, unrefined, pushing Leif’s face into the earth. The others watched, some joining in, their penetrations fierce, driven by the same primal urge.

Chapter 13.2: “The Boot’s Mercy”

The air in the camp was thick with tension, heavy with the promise of violence. A captive, named Erik, had dared to slow his pace, his eyes clouded with fatigue. This small act of defiance was all the soldiers needed. 

With a swift, brutal motion, Kareem’s boot met Erik’s ribs, the force sending Erik crashing to the ground. Erik crumpled, the breath knocked out of him, his body folding over the pain. The dirt rose in a cloud around them as Kareem dragged Erik by his hair, each step punctuated by another kick.

Kareem, his breath heavy with exertion, yanked down his robe, his erection already pulsing with the thrill of dominance. He forced Erik’s head down, his cock, dark and veined, pressing against Erik’s lips, forcing them open. His cockhead  was hitting the back of Erik’s throat, choking him, the sounds of gagging and the wet slaps of flesh echoing through the camp.

Then, flipping Erik over, Kareem positioned himself behind, his boot on Erik’s back, pushing him down into the dirt. He entered Erik from behind, his brown cock stretching him painfully. His thrusts were like the kicks, hard, punishing, driving Erik into the ground.

Chapter 13.2 “The Toy Soldier and the The Giant’s Plaything

The Toy Soldier

In the dark heart of the Al-Nur encampment, where the torchlight cast eerie shadows, Latif, a soldier whose physique was as unassuming as his name, was about to prove that size was no measure of power. His slender frame, often dismissed, was tonight his weapon of choice.

Berengar, once celebrated as “Bear-Spear” for his colossal size and battle prowess, now found himself ensnared in a cage that was both his prison and his stage of humiliation. The bars of this cage were spaced to force him into a crouch, his muscles cramped, his once-formidable stance reduced to a caged animal.

Latif, with a mischievous grin that cut through the dimness, slithered through a narrow opening used for feeding, his agility unmatched. His laughter was a sharp, mocking echo against Berengar’s heavy breathing, a sound of conquest over the giant.

This cage was not merely for containment; it was an elaborate setup for Latif’s game. He carried with him an assortment of small, pointed tools, not for injury but for manipulation. With these, he created a web of strings and pulleys within the cage, giving him control over Berengar like a puppeteer with his marionette.

“Look at the mighty bear, now a plaything, a toy” Latif sneered, his voice dripping with derision. With a deft flick, he pulled a string, a hook scraping against Berengar’s skin, forcing him into an awkward, exposing position. 

Latif, agile as ever, climbed atop Berengar, his small size an asset in navigating the tight space. He positioned himself at Berengar’s most vulnerable point, using his diminutive stature to his advantage. Each tug on the strings caused Berengar to arch, to bend, making the giant’s body serve Latif’s every whim for penetration.

His thrusts were deliberate, each one a mockery of Berengar’s former might. His small hands guided Berengar’s massive frame. Latif moved with the grace of a dancer, every motion of his slender hips a calculated violation, his laughter a melody to Berengar’s groans of pain and shame. 

The soldiers gathered, drawn by the spectacle, watching in amusement. Here was Latif, with his slight build, dominating Berengar, using the giant’s own size against him. He rode Berengar like one would a beast, each movement a taunt, showcasing how the smallest could subdue the largest.

As the night deepened, Latif’s game escalated into a display of ingenuity. He manipulated the cage’s mechanics to force Berengar into positions that served his desires. One moment, a string would pull Berengar’s head back, exposing his throat; the next, it would tilt his hips, presenting his ass for Latif’s continued assault. The small soldier, perched on the giant, was the master of this performance.

Latif would thrust into Berengar, his member was relentless in its violation, the contrast between their sizes making each penetration a grotesque spectacle. He would pull strings to make Berengar’s body lift or shift, causing the giant to inadvertently aid in his own degradation. 

At times, Latif would use small, sharp implements to prod Berengar’s flesh, not for blood but for control, making him move in ways that allowed deeper penetration, his laughter filling the air as Berengar’s body was forced to comply with these unnatural movements.

The Giant’s Plaything

In the sprawling camp of Al-Nur, there was one soldier whose presence dwarfed all others. Jamil was a warrior of towering height, his muscles sculpted by years of battle, his skin a deep bronze from countless days under the sun. His penis was equally formidable, a thick, dark column matching his frame.

Among the captives, he chose the smallest, a man named Ivar, whose stature was barely that of a boy. Ivar’s small frame was lifted effortlessly into Jamil’s powerful arms, his protests drowned out by the soldier’s deep laughter as he carried him around the camp. He was barely more than a boy in height, his body lean, his eyes wide with fear as Jamil hoisted him into the air with ease.

With a sincere smile, Jamil lifted Ivar, his biceps contracting into hard, rounded peaks as he raised the captive. He paraded Ivar like a trophy, his large hands gripping the captive’s slender waist. With each step, Ivar was impaled on Jamil’s enormous erection, the head alone as large as Ivar’s clenched fist, stretching the captive’s small buttocks to their limits. Ivar’s anus stretched to an unimaginable degree, his body trembling with the pain of being impaled so deeply. The pain was sharp, the stretching relentless, as Jamil’s dark member moved inside him with every step.

The soldiers around them paused their tasks, eyes wide with amusement. They made crude remarks, some clapping Jamil on his broad back, others simply watching in awe at the display of power, Ivar’s small, stretched ass a clear sign of Jamil’s dominance. Jamil’s laughter boomed, deep and resonant, a sound that filled the camp, his steps were heavy on the ground, each one driving Ivar deeper onto his penis.

His small frame looked even smaller against Jamil’s broad chest, his legs dangling, unable to touch the ground. His anus stretched beyond what should have been possible, the skin around it reddened and swollen.

The soldiers watched, some laughing, others whispering in awe at Jamil’s display of dominance. Ivar’s small body was like a doll in Jamil’s grasp, his face contorted in agony, his small frame bouncing with each powerful stride, the humiliation was complete as he was used in such a public manner. Every muscle in Jamil’s body flexed with each step, his laughter never ceasing. His brown penis, slick with the effort, glistened under the sun, the sight of it inside Ivar a formidable spectacle.

I saw the gorgeous, handsome, super sexy boy with the beautiful golden curly blond locks of hair and his sexy attention getting sparkling blue eyes approaching as I sat on the bar stool in the club and knew immediately, I was in trouble when my heart started pounding in my chest, butterflies fluttered in my stomach, my breathing grew fast, my dick started jumping and twitching wildly in my pants, my boy pussy lips started tingling and my ass ring winking wildly. A broad super sexy smile spread across my face and my body language flash the message to the sexy hunk that my boy pussy is yours if you want it.

I knew I was all his when the tall, 6 foot, slim, 125 pound, sexy, blond haired, blue eyed jock with a swimmers style body opened his mouth and a super sexy Australian accented voice came out making my heart melt with desire for him as well as my legs instinctively spreading wide with an overwhelming sexual lust for his cock and my cum hungry pussy begging me for this hunky fit 25 year old boy’s semen. I knew I was helpless and powerless to stop from giving this gorgeous boy a piece of ass and some pussy and from the confidence in Ryder’s voice he knew he was gonna get into my pants and his Australian dick wet with American boy pussy juice tonight as well!

Ryder immediately started playing his seduction game on me and I quickly fell under his spell. In a flash he had me on the dance floor and was holding me as we danced when a slow song started playing. Ryder wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me up against his sexy jock boy body. I wrapped my arms around his neck resting my face against his as we started belly rubbing slow dancing with Ryder seductively swirling his crotch against mine making our dicks start to stiffen.

Ryder whispering into my ear said; “The second I saw you I really liked you and thought you were super cute, hot, sexy and beautiful. I love the way you feel in my arms and the way your hot body feels pressed against mine. Can I kiss you?”

My name is Kevin Barry. I am a Caucasian, 21 year old, 5 foot 8 inch, 116 pounds short, neatly trimmed, straight, medium brown haired, crystal, sparkling baby blue eyes boy with a fit, athletic, smooth jock body with a light overall tan and a hot ass.

Ryder pulled his head back and looked into my eyes then, leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine sending my sexual arousal level into outer space. My entire body started sexually tingling all over as Ryder deep kissed me moving his hands to my butt squeezing my firm, round ass cheeks then, Ryder made his intentions clearly known when he slipped his right hand underneath my jeans and underwear letting the middle finger of his hand slide into my ass crack and move over my boy pussy entrance rubbing my pussy lips and directly into my pussy opening.

Ryder kissed around to the side of my neck and whispered saying; “Holy shit baby, I love the feel of that hot boy pussy. I want to fuck you so bad! Please baby, can I have a piece of that hot ass of yours? Damn baby, you just gotta give me some of that pussy!”

Ryder moved his mouth back over mine and started deep, passionately, French kissing me as I felt the tip of his middle finger part my pussy lips and stretch my ass ring, slipping inside my boy hole as the tip of his hot, wet tongue pushed inside my mouth French kissing me. I was helpless to say no to the super sexy, handsome, hunky, soft spoken, charming, 25 year old, blond haired, blue eyed Australian boy.

The next thing I knew I was lying naked on my back in my apartment bed with Ryder on top of me and my legs draped over his shoulders staring into his beautiful blue eyes as I felt the back of his hand brush across the smooth, firm, bare flesh of my right ass cheek.

Ryder and I stared intently into each other’s eyes. I had my right hand on the side of his face and neck caressing it along with my left hand tightly holding to the top of his muscular left shoulder. I felt Ryder move his left hand to my left butt cheek gripping it and pulling it apart spreading my already widely spread open boy pussy wider. I felt Ryder’s hand grip his rock hard Australian cut cock and guide the mushroom shaped head of his penis directly into the cotton candy pink center of my boy pussy opening.

Ryder looking down at me said; “Fuck yeah baby, I can feel the heat from your sweet, tight American boy pussy on the head of my dick. I can’t wait to get my Australian cock inside you and feel your pussy wrapped around my dick.”

Ryder pushed his smooth, round, firm, muscular, Australian jock boy bubble butt forward driving the head of his dick into my boy hole. I felt the head of Ryder’s cock start parting my pussy lips, stretching my ass ring and the tip of his mushroom shaped dick head sliding into my cotton candy pink pussy center. I watched as Ryder’s eyes twinkled with sexual pleasure, as the skin on his face tightened in sexual arousal as he felt the heavenly sensation of his sensitive dick head rub against my ass ring and the start of my pussy walls as he began to penetrate me. I saw his mouth drop open and heard him let out a super sexy moaning penetrative breath as I felt the entire head of his hard dick push inside my pussy. I could see by the look on Ryder’s face that this was one sexy Australian boy who truly loved pushing his hard dick inside a sweet, tight boy pussy!

I felt Ryder let go of his dick with his right hand and tightly grip my right ass cheek. He lowered his entire body weight down on top of me pushing my legs down onto my chest and my knees to either side of my head as he covered my mouth with his. As Ryder pushed his muscular ass forward driving his dick deeper he started French kissing me driving his hot, wet Australian tongue into my mouth as he slipped every inch of his 7 inch cock balls deep inside my boy hole filling my American jock boy pussy full of rock hard Australian jock boy dick.

Ryder immediately started rhythmically thrusting into my boy hole deep fucking me. Ryder feverishly French kissed me as his dick drove me wild stimulating my prostate and every g-spot along my pussy walls. I listened to him huffing, puffing and making super sexy fucking sounds into my mouth as he tightly gripped my butt cheeks pulling my ass widely apart so he could thrust every inch of his 7 inch, cut, Australian dick back and forth inside my pussy fucking me as deep as possible. Suddenly, Ryder broke off his kiss and moved his head to the side of my face as he started to thrust deeper, harder and faster into my pussy. I tightly gripped the tops of his strong swimmers shoulders looking up at the ceiling of my bedroom feeling Ryder’s balls smack my naked ass cheeks each time he thrust into me driving his hard Australian cock inside my boy hole. When he suddenly grunted into the side of my neck and shoved his dick balls deep.

I felt Ryder’s hard cock start bouncing hard against my pussy walls. His dick slapped against my pussy walls three hard times each time swelling and expanding for a split second followed by three flashes of super white hot heat as Ryder ejaculated inside my hole squirting three ropes of Australian boy semen inside me splashing against my pussy walls coating them with a thick layer of Australian baby making semen. Ryder holding his dick completely inside my hole as he drained his balls inside me said; “Oh fuck yeah baby, I just came so fucking hard and deep inside you. I just got that sweet, tight, American pussy so God damn fucking pregnant with a huge load of Australian sperm. You are definitely one fucking pregnant American boy and that sweet boy pussy is full of hot Australian cum.”

Ryder moved his mouth over mine kissing me then, raised up pulling his dick out of my butthole and rolled to his left flopping down onto his back.

Ryder said; “Fuck, holy shit yeah baby, It felt so damn good fucking and cumming inside that sweet tight pussy of yours. Damn, that was some amazing pussy. You got one hot ass and an awesome feeling hole between those beautiful cheeks. Your one hell of a great piece of ass and a fucking out of this world hot fuck!”

Ryder gave me a quick kiss and as he pulled the covers over his body said; “It’s after 3 o’clock in the morning. I’m tired. Let’s get some sleep. Thanks for the pussy, baby. I really enjoyed fucking and cumming inside you. Thanks for giving me a hot piece of American ass. I feel great now that my balls are fully drained inside your sweet pussy and am so fucking ready to get some sleep!”

Ryder turned onto his side facing away from me and was soon fast asleep. It took me longer to fall asleep with my dick still rock hard and being super horny from getting fucked by Ryder and not getting to ejaculate but I finally drifted off to sleep.

I opened my eyes the next morning and noticed Ryder was no longer in the bed beside me and needing to take a piss like a Russian race horse got out of bed and put on my underwear leaving the bedroom. As I headed to the bedroom I passed my roommates bedroom door noticing it was a jar. As I stepped close I heard moaning and groaning sounds. I quietly pushed the door open just far enough to peek inside.

Ashley Davis is a 22 year old, 5 foot 4 inch, 116 pound, long, curly, red haired, green eyed, slim, small, short, skinny, girly acting, high pitched voiced, Irish American boy who dresses like a woman in his daily life.

My roommate Ashley and I dated for a short time and after things not working out we realized we would be much better off being friends broke up and he offered to let me move into this two bedroom apartment.

I watched Ryder’s smooth, muscular Australian butt cheeks clench and relax each time he thrust his dick into Ashley’s hole. Ryder had the smaller shorter, Ashley bent in half with Ashley’s knees pressed against his ears while hard kissing Ashley as he rhythmically deep fucked him.

I watched Ryder’s hard cock pumping in and out of Ashley’s boy hole with his ass ring tightly wrapped around Ryder’s dick. I saw Ryder’s nut sack suddenly draw up super tight under the base of his cock then, Ryder suddenly, toss his head back and grunt out as he ejaculated inside Ashley’s pussy filling his boy hole with a load of Australian sperm. I watched Ryder as he pumped his dick into Ashley’s butthole completely draining his nuts balls deep inside Ashley knowing that same Australian cock was doing the same thing up my ass only a few hours ago. Ryder had fucked Ashley with a dirty dick covered in my dried pussy fuck juices.

I heard Ryder say; “Fuck yeah baby, I just came so fucking hard and deep inside that sweet, tight, hot red headed American boy pussy. I just got your pussy pregnant with a huge load of Australian boy sperm. It felt amazing fucking and cumming inside you. That’s one hot red headed boy pussy. You’re a great piece of ass, baby. You were a great fuck. Thanks for taking care of my morning wood erection and letting me drain my nuts inside your boy hole.”

I thought to myself saying; “God damn! This is one horny Australian son of a bitch bastard horn dawg!”

I watched Ryder back away from Ashley pulling his dick out of his pussy, back off the bed and pick up his briefs and put them on. I quickly moved away from the door and hurried into the bathroom.

I was standing in front of the commode when Ryder entered the bathroom. He said good morning and I glanced at him saying hi then, he moved behind me. Ryder pressed his crotch up against my ass while pushing my underwear down then, reaching around my waist gripping my dick putting his hand over mine holding my dick as I pissed.

He said; “Hmmm, hmmm, there’s that hot sweet American boy ass. I God damn fucking love the feel of that sweet ass against my crotch and my cock. I love your ass and the sweet, tight boy pussy between those beautiful American butt cheeks!”

I felt Ryder push down his underwear with his free hand then, I felt the back of his hand as he used his fingers to stuffed the head of his 3 inch soft penis still slippery with Ashley’s ass juices along with the dried asshole pussy juices from my boy hole as well as into my ass crack. I felt Ryder’s fingers as he worked the head of his soft penis into my butthole and stuffing an inch of his soft 3inch dick inside my hole. I felt Ryder’s hot breath on the back and side of my neck as he let out a long slow relieving breath. I felt a hot sensation filling my bowels and realized Ryder was taking a piss inside my butthole. I heard him say; “Ah Fuck yeah, that feels so fucking good. My bladder was about to burst. It definitely felt good to piss out all of the beer I drank at the club last night inside your pussy. Your one God damn fucking nasty, slutty American bottom bitch boy and I fucking love it. C’mon baby, let’s take a shower together.”

Ryder and I got into the shower and while we were washing Ashley came into the bathroom. Ryder yelled out for Ashley to join us and before I knew it Ashley was bent over holding onto the back wall of the shower with one hand and jacking off with the other. My dick was balls deep inside his hole rhythmically fucking him while Ryder watched us. I ejaculated inside Ashley with him squirting his cum load at the same time. We washed, dressed and enjoyed a late breakfast. Ryder, Ashley and I fucked several more times the rest of the weekend enjoying each other until Ryder told us he was leaving letting us know that he was going to his temporary apartment to grab his luggage and board a plane bound for Australia and home. Ryder told us that he had been on a temporary visa that allowed him to come to America for one year. Ryder had been training for the Olympic swimming try outs in Australia at one of America’s top swimming training facilities and it was time for him to return home and compete in the Australian Olympic swimming try outs.

Ryder gave Ashley and I a kiss then, as he left our apartment he said thanks for making his last weekend in America one he would never forget and being good American boys, spreading our legs and giving him lots of hot American boy pussy. He told us it was one of the best sex weekends of his life.

Four days later, Ashley and I got a text message from Ryder telling us that he had made the Australian Olympic team. Two weeks later, Ashley and I watched the Olympics’ on TV seeing Ryder win two gold medals.

Ashley and I were sitting on the sofa watching the Olympic swimming when the camera focused on Ryder and we saw him in his sexy speedo swimsuit. In a flash, Ashley and I were naked and Ashley was straddling me riding my dick in reverse cowboy with me thrusting up into his boy pussy fucking him while Ashley furiously jacked off as we watched Ryder compete in his Olympic swimming event. I looked over the top of Ashley’s right shoulder as we watched Ryder swimming in his race and when he touched the wall winning his first gold medal and started jumping in the water, cheering and yelling out in joy I tightly gripped Ashley’s waist, thrust super-fast up into his pussy a few times then, grunted, letting out a super sexy orgasmic moaning breath out and shoved balls deep inside Ashley ejaculating inside his pussy as he squirted a long rope of semen over his chest and belly leaving a pearly creamy white line of semen trailing back to the head of his penis.

Ashley and I had more fun watching the Olympics’ that year than any year in our lives!

It had been 3 months since my encounter with James. Well, since I had sold my cherry to him. I never did make it to my date. I told my girl that I had gotten into a fight and we did not meet up until the following Monday.

She was worried and scared, but I was able to play it off with bravado and a few made-up scenes of my supposed fight.

At work, I told my boss the same thing and he just shook his head and said, “Good thing you kids can take a beating and come back for more,” as he put me back to work.

It’s been 3 months and since then, I have paid all my bills, I have saved the extra that was left over for a rainy day and things have been looking up.

I got more hours at work and I even signed up for some overtime doing stocking overnight.

Ever since that night with James, things in the bedroom with my girlfriend have taken a wild turn. She’s absolutely delighted, almost electrified, by the new rough and commanding edge to my touch. It’s like I’ve tapped into a deeper, darker part of myself, and she’s all in for the ride.

Before, our lovemaking was tender, almost predictable, but now, I bring a sense of control and authority that has us exploring boundaries we never knew we had. I’ve found myself more assertive, more demanding. It’s as if the experience unlocked something primal within me, and she can’t get enough of it.

I take the lead, setting the pace and the intensity, pushing her limits and mine. The transformation in our nightly escapades is palpable; the air charged with raw energy as I have her coming all night long. The sounds of our bodies, the gripping, the moans—they fill the room with relentless fervor.

“More, please…” she gasps between breaths, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and insatiable desire. I can’t help but oblige, driven by a newfound hunger to satisfy this deep, carnal craving we’ve unearthed together.

Each session leaves us both breathless, her thanking me with kisses laced with reverence for the newfound heights of pleasure I’ve brought her to. And as she drifts to sleep, curled up next to me, there’s a smirk on my lips—part triumph, part disbelief—at how my dark secret has serendipitously ignited our passion.

I won’t sugarcoat it—every now and then, flashes of that night with James sneak up on me. One moment I’m fine, and the next, I’m caught in a torrent of conflicting emotions. My skin heats up and my fists clench as those memories of submission flood back, stirring a wild, unsettling mix of anger and arousal within me.

It’s been three months, yet these unbidden recollections have a way of ambushing me when I least expect it. But I’ve gotten good at slamming the door shut on them, burying those feelings deep as soon as they surface. It’s the only way I manage to keep moving forward. So far, this strategy has held up, and I tell myself I’m okay with it.

Another day winds down at work, the staff turnover high enough to keep things unpredictable. But one constant remains—Amanda, the closing supervisor. She’s a veteran here, her eight-year tenure speckled with endless complaints about everything from the temperamental air conditioning to her philandering husband and the endless antics of her rambunctious kids.

Despite the chaos of her personal life, Amanda’s approach to closing the store is nothing short of military precision. There’s an art to the way she manages the end-of-day routine, a methodical pace that ensures we’re never late clocking out. She starts her closing duties an hour early, her actions swift and decisive, making sure that by the time the clock strikes 9 PM, everything’s set for a prompt departure.

Tonight, as usual, she lays out the plan with that firm, no-nonsense tone of hers that brooks no argument. “We close the doors at 9 PM. I take the till and shut down the register while you tidy up and straighten the store aisles,” she directs crisply. Her eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as she adds, “We’re out by 9:30 PM and leave this shithole behind,” her smile breaking through the stern facade.

It’s this blend of toughness and efficiency mixed with her dry humor that I’ve come to respect, maybe even admire. In a job where every day can bring a new challenge or headache, knowing Amanda’s got the closing shift covered brings a strange sort of comfort. She’s the unsung maestro of our nightly routine, making sure that no matter how chaotic the day, our evenings wrap up clean and tidy.

I nodded in agreement, as she walked off I began to go into the aisles and fix stock and end caps, it was slow today and it gave me a chance to get more done.

I was fixing the area around my register as the last of the customers walked in. I was fixing magazines and candy at the lower area of the front display; kids always mess up the area, and sure enough at the very bottom was a Snickers candy bar.

I got on all fours and lowered my body to reach in and get the fucking thing, it was just out of reach between the pegboard and the metal hangers that were always in the way. “Fuck me,” I grunted in frustration.

The hum of the store was punctuated by the chirps of the checkout scanner when a familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. “It’s nice to see you too,” the voice said smoothly from behind me. As I turned, my eyes locked onto a pair of sandals—those stereotypical California tourist sandals—and my gaze crawled upward. The sight of the loud Hawaiian shirt made my stomach drop. There, smiling at me with an unsettling ease, was James.

“It’s me, James. It hasn’t been that long,” he said, his voice light and breezy, a stark contrast to the heavy thud of my heart. As others queued behind him, my mind raced with panic.

“Oh sorry, let’s get you checked out,” I managed to stammer out, rushing over to the counter to scan his items—a tub of Vaseline and some gloves. The very sight of the Vaseline jarred me, sending my thoughts spiraling back to that night. James’s thick fingers working the gel, preparing to breach me. A shiver ran through me, and not from the cold.

As I scanned the items, my hands trembled slightly, fear mingling with a forbidden thrill. James had brought me to heights of pleasure I had never known, but at what cost? Now here he was, possibly threatening the mundane stability I had clawed back into my life. The mix of fear and the visceral flashbacks of ecstasy made my breath hitch.

“I’m just picking up a few necessities,” James commented casually, his eyes piercing into mine. I could almost feel his gaze peeling back the layers I had built around that night, exposing the raw memories I had buried. He leaned in slightly, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew exactly the turmoil swirling inside me.

Shit, I was terrified—not just of what he could do here, but of the dark desires he had awakened in me, desires I had vowed to bury. As I handed him his change, our fingers brushed, and I recoiled not just from his touch, but from the part of me that yearned to lean into it.

“This really comes in handy,” James remarked, his voice dripping with irony as he held up the Vaseline, his smile broadening as he caught my uneasy gaze. “What’s the code to the bathroom?” he asked casually, but the grin that spread across his face was anything but casual. It was predatory.

“Uh, 0454,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Come find me when you’re done,” he whispered back, his tone low and inviting as he took his bag and began to saunter towards the back of the store. The casual flick of his wrist as he waved goodbye sent a shiver down my spine.

Shit, shit, shit, I thought, my mind racing with the implications of his presence here. He better not bring this—whatever this was—into my workplace. I felt a surge of protective anger mixed with a haunting desire. I will fuck him up if he tries anything, I promised myself, but even as I thought it, a mocking voice echoed in my mind: ‘Yes, daddy.’ A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as I wrestled with the echo of submission that James had ingrained in me.

Dread and a forbidden anticipation twisted inside me as I watched him disappear toward the bathrooms. The fear of losing control again, right here in my place of work, of all places.

I made short work of the last 2 customers and 15 till I called up Amanda.

“What’s up, Adam, I’m counting the safe and balancing deposit bags from pharmacy and photo,” she said before I could even speak.

“I really need to use the bathroom, like badly,” I said. “It’s 15 min till closing, no problem, I’ll keep an eye on the register from here,” the office had a single two-way window that only had a view of the sun register.

“Ok, thank you,” I said as I ran back to the bathroom, I was scared, what if he tried to blackmail me? What if he wanted to buy me again? “I’m coming,” I heard my memory flash.

No, it was a one-time thing and that was that, I pushed in the code and walked in.

There stood James, stark naked, his belly distinctively rounded above his impressively engorged cock, glistening with lubricant in the dim light of the bathroom. “What the fuck!” I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of shock and a creeping, unwanted arousal.

But James was quick, pulling me close with a firm grip. His teeth grazed my neck in a sharp bite before his tongue lavished the tender skin, tracing circles that sent shivers down my spine. “Mmmmmm,” he hummed into my ear, his breath hot and heavy, laden with desire. I stood frozen, every nerve ending aflame with the flood of sensations overwhelming my senses.

“I know you close down at 9 pm. You have 15 minutes to make me cum,” James stated with a commanding tone, his words punctuating the air with a stern urgency. “Or your boss can walk in and catch us both in here.”

His threat hung between us, a stark reminder of the stakes, as he backed me into the stall without waiting for my consent. With a swift movement, he yanked down my pants, exposing me. My hands shot out, grasping the cold, hard plastic of the toilet seat for support as I was bent forward, vulnerably positioned for his taking.

“Ooo Shiiit,” I gasped out loud as I felt James ease his well-lubed cock into me. It was like a searing spear, hot and unyielding, piercing through me. I was sure he had split me wide open; his thick 8 inches relentlessly stretched my insides, each inch pushing further as if challenging my ability to take him all. The overwhelming sensation was a mix of sharp pain and deep, dark pleasure—a battle between body and mind, each thrust testing my limits.

“No, James, wait,” I pleaded, but James pressed his hand firmly against my back, pinning me helplessly over the cold, hard surface of the toilet seat. “Here we go, slut,” he grunted, his voice a low growl as he began to move inside me, rough and unyielding.

“Aaa,” escaped my lips, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure as he withdrew slowly, only to fill me again, inch by excruciating inch. “Yes, Adam, that’s it, relax,” James murmured hotly against my ear, his breath a tantalizing contrast to the stark chill of the tiled bathroom. “Ooooo,” I responded, my voice a tangled chord of discomfort and arousal.

“Here, let me see,” James said, his hand reaching down to grasp my erection. His touch was firm, knowing. “I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly, a smirk in his voice as he tightened his grip, “let me give you what you want.” His words were a seductive promise, laced with the power to turn the overwhelming sensations into a forbidden craving.

Suddenly, James shifted his rhythm and began to thrust into me with unrestrained vigor. “Oooo fuck,” I groaned as the initial discomfort morphed into exquisite pleasure.

“That’s right, slut, you needed to remember how much you love this,” James grunted, his voice thick with arousal as he drove into me relentlessly. “Aaaarrggghh,” I cried out when he pinched my nipples fiercely, sending a shockwave of electric pleasure through my body. “Fuck, I have to resist,” I gasped, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation.

“You almost forgot how much you crave a bit of pain,” he whispered huskily, his breath hot against my ear. His tongue traced tantalizing circles inside my ear, heightening the sensation as he continued to tease my nipples.

“Fuuuckkk yeah,” I moaned involuntarily. “That’s right, slut, you love it just like this,” James taunted, his delight palpable as he increased his pace, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

Now, I was lost in the throes of sheer pleasure, fully surrendering to the sensations. James’s firm grip on my hair, the sharp tweaks to my nipples, and his dirty whispers somehow made the moment intensely satisfying. I hated that I loved it so much.

“Yyyeeeszzzzz,” I moaned loudly, feeling the weight of his balls press against me as he buried himself deep inside me, not holding back. “Yes, that’s it,” I grunted, a mix of shame and undeniable arousal coursing through me. I was so fucking horny, helplessly caught in the raw intensity of the moment.

There I was, hunched in a bathroom stall, face perilously close to the toilet seat, being ruthlessly taken by eight inches of thick, unrelenting desire.

The irony wasn’t lost on me—a fat, unremarkable man pushing me to the brink of ecstasy. His vigorous thrusts sent me spiraling, and despite everything, he was driving me wild, utterly dominating my senses.

Amid the relentless pounding, James’ voice cut through the haze of pleasure, his command forceful. “What are you, Adam? Tell me what you are,” he demanded, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that echoed through my core.

“I’m a slut,” I confessed, the words laced with a mix of shame and an inescapable truth. The intensity of his grip tightened, compelling me to speak again as he overpowered me completely.

“Say it again, Adam,” James ordered, his voice rough with desire.

“I’m a slut, daddy,” I repeated, my voice breaking under the strain of conflicting emotions. I was on the edge, fighting the urge to pull away, yet too consumed by the raw pleasure to stop. Each word, each confession, made me realize how deeply I had succumbed to the sensations he commanded.

James was grunting loudly and pounding my ass with no regard; he had thrown caution to the wind and was chasing his climax, and he would not be denied.

My cock was swinging side to side like a wand, slapping around as my balls jumped and bounced. “Ohhh fuckkkkkkk,” I moaned.

“Here it comes, slut,” James roared, his body tensing as he neared the brink. The room filled with the sounds of his desperate moans and heavy grunts.

His cock and balls were buried to the hilt, pulsing violently as he delivered his final thrusts. His hands, fierce and unyielding, pinched my nipples until they turned a fiery red, adding a sharp pain to the overwhelming mix of sensations.

I trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the torrent of sensations as I felt the hot, thick rush of his release flooding my insides. The sensation was both violating and intensely intimate, leaving me gasping for breath and clutching the cold porcelain of the toilet.

As the echo of his climax faded, I found myself slumped on my knees, hands gripping the toilet seat, a humiliating reminder of drunken nights spent in oblivion. But this was no drunken stupor; I was painfully sober, left bent over the toilet like some discarded plaything as James swiftly pulled out.

Silently, James adjusted himself, his movements deliberate. As he stepped away, I felt the stark contrast between the lingering heat of his presence and the chill of the cold tile pressing against my skin. I was left exposed, hollow, the ache of his absence a physical void within me.

He sauntered to the sink, the sound of water splashing as he meticulously washed himself—his cock, his balls, his hands—each motion calculated and precise. “I knew you’d love it, Adam,” he murmured, his voice a seductive promise as he glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t wait for you to crave more of it,” he teased, a wicked glint in his eye.

Still sprawled on the floor, disoriented like a frat boy after a wild night, I watched as he approached me again. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I opened my mouth without a word, and he rewarded me, letting a long string of spit fall into my waiting mouth. I swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the intimate act binding me further to my submission.

“That’s a good slut,” he praised softly, his voice a caress that sent shivers down my spine. With a final smirk, he turned and walked out, leaving me flushed and wanting on the cold bathroom floor.

Regaining my composure, I swiftly rose to my feet, hastily pulling up and adjusting my pants. With hurried steps, I exited the bathroom; the clock struck 9 pm. As I approached the register, I attended to the last two customers of the evening. The first was a 35-year-old woman, her eyes smoldering with a predatory intensity. She fixed a lingering, hungry stare at my bulge—not entirely concealed despite my flustered state.

The next customer, a young guy around 18, gave my crotch overt attention, his gaze unabashed and wanting. As he collected his items, his lips parted, and he murmured a breathy “Damn,” his voice laden with desire

I closed the door, and Amanda showed up to pick up my register and closing paperwork.

“You okay, Adam?” Amanda inquired with a concerned frown. “You look stressed,” and indeed, I was overwhelmed.

I had just been taken in the bathroom. I wasn’t high or drunk, yet I had found pleasure in the ordeal. What the hell was happening to me? Why did it feel so unnervingly right?

“Yeah, I’m good,” I managed to say, shrugging it off. “Must’ve been something I ate,” I added, trying to sound casual as I moved towards the last two aisles needing my attention for the night setup.

As I stocked the shelves, the memory of the recent encounter ignited a troubling arousal. Thoughts of the event fuelled a persistent and undeniable hard-on that I struggled to ignore. It demanded release.

No, no, it’s just sex, it’s just sex.

I’m just a normal guy… “that loves getting fucked,” I heard the voice inside me say.

We closed at 9:30 pm, and I hurried to my car, driven by an urgent, throbbing arousal that demanded immediate release. The freeway stretched before me as I headed home, but the overwhelming sensation became too much to bear. Desperate, I pulled over to the side of the road, the sparse traffic a distant concern.

Unbuckling my belt, I liberated my aching, pulsing erection. My free hand teased my nipples, heightening the fervor as I began to vigorously masturbate. The occasional honk from passing trucks punctuated the night air, a soundtrack to my frenzied release.

“Yyyyeeasssss,” I cried out as ecstasy overtook me, my seed splattering across the steering wheel. “I’m a slut,” I gasped, a second wave of pleasure smearing the windshield. “AAAAAaaaarrrggghh,” I groaned as the final bursts painted my hand.

Panting and trying to recover, my frantic gaze met a trucker’s, who had stopped and was standing in front of my door with a smile. In a panic, I started the car and sped away, escaping into the night, haunted by the intense pleasure and the shame it stirred.

Absolutely furious and ashamed that I had fallen so low, I could not let any of this happen again. I thought as I got home, stripped out of my work clothes, and put them to wash.

My roommates were already in bed; I walked back into my room and video called my girl. We settled into our video chat, the familiar flicker of the screen casting a warm glow in the dimness of my room. As our conversation gently waned, an unspoken agreement passed between us, and a charged silence filled the air. We shared a knowing look, our breaths growing deeper, heavier, synchronized.

She teasingly bit her lip, her fingers wandering across her body in a slow, deliberate dance that captured my full attention. I watched, mesmerized, as her hands traced the contours of her skin, igniting a fire within me. 

Driven by the desire mirrored in her eyes, I let my hand drift downward, the electric sensation of my touch amplified by her hungry gaze. I slowly started to stroke myself, my movements matched by her own exploratory caresses. The rhythmic sound of our breaths mingled with soft moans spilled from the speakers, enveloping us in a cocoon of intimacy.

The pace quickened, our actions becoming more fervent and desperate. She arched her back, her features etched with pleasure, urging me on without words. The sight of her lost in ecstasy, combined with the intense sensations rippling through me, pushed me closer to the edge.

Our crescendo built in unison, our separate spaces charged with the electricity of imminent release. With a final, mutual moan that seemed to breach the physical miles between us, we climaxed, waves of pleasure crashing over us in synchronized fulfillment. We lingered in the aftermath, smiles of contented satisfaction lighting up our faces. It was fantastic; yeah, no, I’m just a normal guy.

Timothy stared at his reflection in the mirror, smoothing the collar of his crisp white shirt. At 34, his youthful looks remained, but the shadows of his past lurked just beneath the surface. His bald fade haircut was sharp and precise, framing his dark, handsome face. He flexed his slim, muscular build, honed from years of swimming, trying to push down the anxiety that bubbled up from his stomach. The walls of his modest apartment were a stark contrast to the opulence he was about to step into.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself of his plan to escape the grip of the black market. This interview with Tyrone could be his ticket out. The instructions had been clear: arrive at the penthouse suite of the Downtown Grand Hotel, dressed to the nines and ready to charm the socks off the client. Timothy had never met anyone from the upper echelons of society, let alone been hand-picked by one.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a tastefully decorated hallway. His heart racing, he found the suite and took one last moment to compose himself before knocking. The door opened to reveal an expansive room, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. In the corner, a well-dressed, middle-aged man with a boyish grin and salt-and-pepper circle beard looked up from his paperwork.

“You must be Timothy,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. “Please, come in.”

Tyrone extended a hand, and Timothy took it, feeling a surprisingly firm grip. The room was a blend of contemporary elegance and comfortable warmth, the scent of a subtle, expensive cologne lingering in the air. The tension in Timothy’s shoulders eased slightly as he stepped inside and took in the plush furnishings and well-stocked bar.

“Thank you for having me,” Timothy replied, his voice steady despite the racing thoughts.

Tyrone waved a hand dismissively. “Please, make yourself at home. Can I offer you a drink?”

Timothy nodded, his throat dry with nerves. “A whiskey, neat, would be appreciated.”

As Tyrone poured the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, Timothy couldn’t help but assess the man who held his future in his hands. He was more attractive than he’d expected, with a muscular frame that spoke of good health and regular workouts. His charming eyes sparkled with an intelligence that seemed at odds with the stereotype of a man who would buy companionship.

“So,” Tyrone began, handing over the drink. “Your agency tells me you’re quite the catch.”

Timothy took a sip, feeling the liquid burn a path down his throat. “I strive to be the best at what I do,” he said with a practiced smile.

“Excellent,” Tyrone said, his own smile growing wider. “But I’m not just looking for someone who knows how to please in the bedroom. I want someone who can keep up with me, mentally and emotionally as well.”

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights glinting off the glass. “I’ve got a proposal for you, Timothy. If you can impress me over the next four days, I’ll offer you a contract for six months as my live-in escort.”

Timothy’s eyes widened slightly. He’d never had a contract that long. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Tyrone said, turning to face him. “But we’re going on a little trip to the Bahamas. It’s a chance for us to get to know each other, see if we’re a good fit. Think of it as a… extended job interview.”

The words “extended job interview” sent a shiver down Timothy’s spine. He knew what that entailed, especially with a client who had a taste for rough, anal bondage sex. But he’d been through worse. He could handle it.

“When do we leave?” he asked, setting down his whiskey.

“Tonight,” Tyrone said, checking his watch. “Our private jet is waiting.”

The reality of the situation hit Timothy like a sledgehammer, but he managed to keep his cool. “Tonight? As in, right now?”

Tyrone nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Yes, I like to keep things spontaneous. Now, I know this is a big leap of faith for you, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll be treated like a king, and if things go well, you’ll earn more in those six months than you could dream of.”

Timothy swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. “Okay, I’m in.”

Tyrone clapped his hands together, his grin growing. “Fantastic. Go grab your things. I’ll have the jet fueled up and ready to go in an hour.”

The next few moments were a blur as Timothy rushed back to his apartment, his mind reeling with a mix of excitement and dread. He threw a few essentials into a bag and called a cab, the reality of his situation sinking in with every passing second. As the cab sped toward the airport, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Tyrone really was. Was he truly a fair employer seeking companionship, or was there a darker motive behind his smile?

The jet was sleek and luxurious, the kind of aircraft Timothy had only seen in movies. He boarded, feeling a mix of awe and fear as the door closed behind him. Tyrone was already on board, a glass of scotch in hand, looking completely at ease. He gestured to the plush seats and told Timothy to make himself comfortable.

As they took off, Timothy’s nerves grew. This was it. No turning back now. He tried to relax, telling himself that he was a pro at this, that he could handle anything. But the thought of what the next four days might hold filled him with a trepidation that was hard to shake.

The flight to the Bahamas was long but uneventful. Timothy dozed fitfully, his dreams filled with a whirlwind of erotic images and fear of the unknown. When they finally landed, the warm tropical air enveloped them as they stepped onto the tarmac. A private car was waiting to whisk them away to a secluded beachfront villa. The ocean stretched out before them, a canvas of inky blackness dotted with the twinkling lights of distant boats.

Once inside the villa, Tyrone wasted no time setting the rules for their time together. “The first test,” he began, his voice low and serious. “Will be to see if you can satisfy my every need, both in and out of the bedroom.”

Timothy felt his stomach flip-flop, but he nodded. “I understand.”

Tyrone’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. “Good. Because I expect complete obedience and discretion. Do you think you can handle that?”

Timothy took a deep breath and held Tyrone’s gaze. “I can handle anything.”

The first test came that very night. Tyrone led Timothy to the master suite, a vast room that smelled faintly of sandalwood and ocean breezes. The bed was a king-sized monstrosity of luxurious linens and plush pillows, and Timothy felt his heart racing as he followed the older man’s commanding footsteps.

“Strip,” Tyrone ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Timothy did as he was told, peeling off his clothes with trembling hands. His eyes never left Tyrone’s, watching as the other man’s gaze devoured his bare skin. He felt a thrill of anticipation, mixed with the sting of fear.

The sex was rough, as Timothy had feared, but there was an art to it that he hadn’t anticipated. Tyrone was a master of his desires, his touch both firm and precise. He tied Timothy’s wrists to the bedframe with velvet-covered cuffs, his eyes never leaving Timothy’s as he explained each step. Timothy bit back a moan as the cool material brushed against his skin, feeling a strange sense of safety amidst the impending storm.

Tyrone’s hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He teased Timothy’s nipples, pinching and rolling them until they stood at attention, the pain sending jolts of pleasure straight to his cock. Timothy’s breath came in short gasps as Tyrone’s fingers danced down his torso, tracing the lines of his abs before delving lower to tease the sensitive skin behind his balls.

Then, without warning, Tyrone’s thick, lubed fingers pushed into Timothy’s ass, stretching him open with a brutal tenderness that had Timothy’s eyes rolling back in his head. He felt the head of Tyrone’s cock press against his entrance, and he tensed, bracing himself for the onslaught. But Tyrone took his time, pushing inch by inch, letting Timothy adjust to the size before he began to move. The rhythm was slow and deliberate, each thrust a declaration of power and dominance that sent shivers down Timothy’s spine.

As the night went on, the boundaries between pain and pleasure blurred, Timothy’s cries echoing through the room. He’d never been with someone so skilled at making him feel both used and cherished. The pain was intense, but it was the kind that made him crave more, that made his blood sing with every touch. And through it all, Tyrone’s eyes remained on his, a silent promise that this was just the beginning.

The following days were a whirlwind of tests, both physical and mental. Timothy found himself serving Tyrone breakfast in bed, engaging in stimulating conversations, and even joining him for a round of golf. Each evening, they would retire to the suite, where Tyrone would unleash his desires upon him. Timothy grew accustomed to the feel of the cuffs, the tightness of the ropes, and the sting of the leather against his skin. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a dance he found himself eagerly participating in.

On the final night of their vacation, Timothy stirred from a deep sleep to find the mansion eerily quiet. The bed beside him was cold, and the room was cast in a dim glow from the moonlit windows. He sat up, his heart racing as he scanned the empty space. His eyes fell upon a small table by the bed, where two envelopes lay neatly side by side. His stomach lurched as he reached for them.

One envelope was thick, the paper heavy and expensive. It bore no name or label, just a simple, handwritten note that read, “Your future awaits.” The other was smaller, bulging with what he assumed was cash. He picked it up, feeling the weight of the decision in his trembling hand. The note attached to this one simply stated, “For your freedom.”

Tyrone had left no indication of which he preferred, no clue to the path Timothy should take. The first envelope represented a six-month contract, a chance to work for a man who had shown him a glimpse of kindness amidst the depravity of his past. The second envelope held the means to pay off his debt to the mob, the very reason he’d become a prostitute in the first place.

Timothy held the two envelopes, feeling the gravity of his decision. The soft rustle of the paper was the only sound in the stillness of the night. The mansion, once a stage for their passionate encounters, now felt like a prison, the walls whispering of the consequences of his choice.

The coolness of the metal cuffs around his wrists served as a stark reminder of his current life, a life he’d never chosen. Yet, the warmth of Tyrone’s touch, the gentle care in his dominance, had given Timothy a taste of something he hadn’t known before – a sense of belonging. The contract meant security, a place to call his own, and a way out of the cycle of fear and survival that had consumed him for so long.

The cash, however, was a siren’s call, promising a quick escape. But freedom without direction was a hollow victory. He knew the streets wouldn’t welcome him back with open arms. The mob would find him, and the cycle would continue.

With a deep sigh, Timothy made his choice. He set the envelope filled with cash on the nightstand and clutched the contract to his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had to face the future, to build a life that was more than just running from his past. As he slid out of bed and dressed, he felt a newfound resolve.

The jet ride back was filled with anticipation, the thrill of the unknown mingling with the comfort of knowing he had a place to go. Timothy was ready to embark on this new chapter with Tyrone, to see where it would lead. As the sun began to rise over the horizon, he knew that he was making the right choice. The money was tempting, but it was the promise of a future with someone who saw him as more than just a commodity that truly mattered.

The private jet touched down at Tyrone’s mansion, and as Timothy stepped out, the reality of his decision hit him. The sprawling estate was now his home, at least for the next six months. He took a deep breath, the scent of the ocean and the promise of a new life filling his lungs.

The door to the mansion swung open, and there stood Tyrone, his boyish grin in place, the salt and pepper beard trimmed to perfection. Timothy could see the excitement in his eyes, and he knew that this was more than just a business transaction for the older man. It was a chance for connection, for something real.

As they walked through the grand foyer, Timothy couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was ready to face them. He’d chosen the path of the contract, the path of stability and potential happiness. Now, all that was left was to sign on the dotted line and embrace whatever destiny awaited him in Tyrone’s arms.

TO BE CONTINUED ~

John pulled out slowly, watching with rapt attention as his stepson’s glistening pink hole winked at him, alternating between gaping wide and squeezing tight. He had seen many pretty pussies in his life, even raped one a time or two, but this battered little jock just might take a definitive number one ranking–something memorable in a long line of single use cocksleeves disguised as people. “Goddamn.”

Hudson’s anus spasmed violently just before John’s pearlescent cum escaped his channel, dribbling down his fuzzy taint and over his furry balls in a steady stream. A shame, John thought. Beautiful visual, but a waste.

Hudson made a groggy, displeased sound when he felt wetness on his taint and balls. “Is that your jizz?” He was surprised that he could feel anything at all. Despite his impressive cardiovascular fitness, he’d been sure at some points that he was at the brink of death during the assault–if not from pain, from pleasure.

Shit.

“Yeah,” John grunted, dragging his fat cockhead through the mess in his crack and pushing his semen back inside the kid’s fuck tunnel. Hudson groaned and squirmed, and John growled threateningly, causing the boy to go limp once again. “I’m gonna plug you up next time, babygirl. Fill you up with my babies.”

Hudson had thought he was beyond the point of blushing. He was not.

“Right,” he said, laughing nervously while his mind screamed, ‘fuck no!’ At that point, he wasn’t one hundred percent positive that the demented old man realized he couldn’t actually knock up a cis dude. Hudson feared he may have walked in on a ‘Sister Wives’ situation.

Hudson had to admit that he was out of his element here. He’d never been in this position before–figuratively or literally, pinned face first on a recently defiled couch, with a case of carpet burn growing more serious by the second on various parts of his body, namely his knees, while a strange man played with his asshole like a caveman discovering sex for the first time.

‘Moderation!’ Hudson wanted to scream at the older man. There wasn’t an ass shortage. The barbarian didn’t have to go around attacking innocent heterosexual jocks in their own homes!

Hudson decided that it would be in his best interest to forget the past hour in its entirety, unwilling to do the work necessary to unpack it in therapy. He needed to grab his mom–football style if he had to–and get the hell out of there. The beast could keep the house. He could hide her in his next dorm room until they figured out a better living situation and spend the summer camping outdoors. Easy peasy.

The brute was still pushing his splooge back into his hole with teasing, aborted thrusts. Hudson felt exposed and uncomfortably wet, like he’d done a shoddy job wiping his ass. The chilly air conditioning on a place that had previously never seen daylight didn’t help, either.

“So…are we done here?” Hudson dared hope, grimacing when he felt more jizz exit his ass on a fart.

John chuckled darkly. “Not even close.” He used his thumbs to pry open Hudson’s rectum, which had blessedly begun to close up.

Hudson felt tears prick his eyes, not just from the indignity, but because his ass hurt. And the worst part was that his traitorous dick was starting to take an interest. Again.

“You’re a sick fuck,” he said, though he wasn’t sure to whom the words were directed. It was a safe bet to say both of them.

John slapped his ass hard, the flesh there already red and bruised from the beating it had taken earlier. “Is that how you speak to your Daddy?”

“Sorry,” Hudson muttered, adding a loud “Daddy!” when he received another sharp pop to his cheek.

John rubbed his calloused hand in a soothing circle over tender, abused skin.

Hudson was hard as steel.

“You gonna be good for Daddy, baby girl?” John crooned. He rocked his hips against Hudson’s bubble butt in a simulation of sex, his club of a cock sliding through the slippery mess between his cheeks. 

Hudson found himself grinding backwards against his stepdad, seeking friction and mindlessly trying to get the head to catch on his rim.

“Y-yes, Daddy,” Hudson whimpered, moaning when he felt a glob of spit hit his tight ring with practiced skill. 

John jabbed his battering ram back into the boy’s recovering hole, relishing in the warm pudding feel of his own sloppy seconds. “Tight little fucksleeve. Daddy’s gonna breed his little girl.”

John was only forty, in his prime, with countless spirited fucks under his belt, but even he was impressed with his own refractory time, and the vicious way he tore his son’s tiny asshole into a slimy gash.

All the air was punched from Hudson’s lungs in a wheeze and he clawed at the couch cushions, encompassed by an overwhelming sense of deja vu as his insides rearranged themselves to accommodate the ten foot pole attempting to plant itself in his throat by taking a journey through his intestines. 

Hudson found that the second time one was raped, at least consecutively, really wasn’t that bad. There was way less of an adjustment period, and now that his anus was numb from the overstimulation, and his prostate decided to commit to being a greedy whore, it was…well, enjoyable wasn’t the right word. But it certainly was something. Tolerable, maybe.

With every powerful snap of the larger Alpha’s hips, Hudson let out a grunt, eyes unfocused and more drool pooling on the couch cushion he was immobilized against. His own chubbed schlong was bouncing around between his legs like a dickshaped bobblehead, and if he could just manage to get his hand free, he’d be able to–

Without warning, John yanked his cock from Hudson’s (now cavernous) hole, and Hudson yelped both in surprise and indignance. “Dude!” 

Just when he was getting the hang of–was it called bottoming? Receiving?–the piece of shit had to go and mess with his flow.

John ignored him, choosing instead to drag the teenager up by his pretty blond tresses and throw him down on the couch, yanking off his shorts and jockstrap that were stretched out and ruined from the cooking oil he’d used as lube.

Hudson barely caught himself before he was being hauled back up by a rough hold on his bicep and shoved down again, this time on his back. Being able to see his assailant again–the hard features, excess of dark hair, and thick, angry eyebrows–had nothing on the terrifyingly expeditious and detached ease with which the giant manipulated Hudson’s body exactly to his liking. As if he wasn’t one hundred ninety pounds of football jock muscle, able to hold his own with guys twice his size. 

John was, to put it in colloquial terms, built different. It was almost like he literally was a giant, and to him, Hudson wasn’t a person. He was as insignificant as…well, he’d said it earlier, hadn’t he?

A fucksleeve.

The discomfort of being bent in half, knees by his ears, paled compared to the euphoric relief his knees and hamstrings were singing now that he wasn’t being forced to kneel. (Rest in peace to the leg hair that had probably gotten lost somewhere in the carpet and left his knees naked.)

Hudson tried to regroup while his stepdad reached behind his neck and yanked off his shirt, but all that broad, muscled man on display had him feeling…well, that sort of squirmy, uncomfortable feeling he sometimes got in his stomach when he was lifting in the weight room and one of the homies had a particularly impressive pump, or just…well…in general.

“Christ,” muttered Hudson. Had he been a fag the whole time? No offense.

John’s delts were big enough to blot out the sun–or, in this case, the lamp–and his pecs could fill out one of those coconut bras chicks wore in Hawaii. He had those beefy abs that showed even when there was a layer of fat just because they were so goddamn strong, and if Hudson got too close to that hair armpit, the stacked dude could snap his neck with a twitch of one colossal bicep.

Speaking of hair: everywhere. He had hair everywhere. And it was dark.

Drool slipped out of the side of Hudson’s mouth.

John laughed right to his face right before he slammed his basilisk sized dong back into his poop chute with zero warning, abs bunching and flexing with every–sharp–snap–of his hips.

Hudson threw his head back, face screwed up in agony–or ecstasy, it was hard to tell–screaming as the angle stabbed at his oversensitized prostate over and over, relentlessly.

Hudson’s vision was blurry, and he realized that he was crying. Again.

Hudson was no longer able to remain stoic–okay, stoic might be generous–and he completely lost his shit. Somehow, his legs found their way around John’s waist, and his hands formed claws at the man’s broad back, tearing at the skin in an effort to ground himself, to find relief. His teeth latched on John’s solid trap muscle, muffling his screams as his cock didn’t drip, exactly, but precum continuously oozed from his slit like he was having the longest, most excruciating orgasm of his life.

“Daddy…” Hudson cried, unprompted, though he wasn’t sure why.

The word had been muffled because he was still biting down on his neck, spit mixing with the older man’s sweat, but he must have understood, because he hummed, gruff but soothing, and said, “Good girl.”

Hudson hadn’t realized John was holding onto his ass, nor that he was fully off the couch and in his arms, until he switched to anchoring him with one hand and moved the other to jack his dick. And it wasn’t long before Hudson, who thought he’d already cum from his ass, actually came from his ass.

His vision whited out…

…then everything went dark.

Again.

Normal disclaimers: This story is fiction. It contains graphic depictions of sex between men. If it is illegal for you to read it, don’t. Thanks!

Please let me know in the comments or in an email if you have any recommendations , anything you’d like to see or any feedback! Emails and comments give me that boost of dopamine that drives me to write the next chapter and get it out quicker. Call it a praise kink or call me an attention whore. Either way, I love hearing from y’all.

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What is this kid really after?

I was replaying the whole scene with Sato, and the suggestion that the sexy 18-year-old  would be fucking me soon, the entire weekend and into Monday. 

I was shit at work. Like, really bad. I zoned out during a meeting, missed a deadline I should have easily made, didn’t see emails and lost my train of thought over and over again in conversations. And the whole time, I was terrified that I would never hear from the gorgeous Japanese twink again.

I’d never, even in my teenage years or earlier in my 20s, worried about hearing back from a guy. I’d been ghosted before, just like everybody has, but even in those cases if the guy didn’t respond to my first text I would just forget about it and move on.

Sato and I already had a second date planned, so I didn’t want to come off as desperate or too high maintenance. But I was dying to hear from him. It came as waves of anxiety and depression each time I thought about him and checked my phone to find no new messages from him. Every night I would jerk off to try and relieve the stress and make myself feel better and then fall asleep as soon as I was done cleaning myself up. 

And every morning, I would wake up and frantically check my phone. Every time it buzzed I rushed to look at it, and every time it was a notification from Twitter or Instagram or some app, I felt my heart sink.

Tuesday, while I was checking in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable enough for work, my phone buzzed and when I scrambled to get it I found he’d finally messaged me. My heart soared.

“dont forget our date tomorrow. you’re picking me up. dress nice and don’t be late”

“I won’t be late, promise!” I texted back. I never used exclamation points in texts, and as soon as I sent the text I started overthinking the fact that I did this time and hoping it wasn’t too eager or desperate looking.

Tuesday and Wednesday I couldn’t focus at work, but instead of it being the anxiety it was the joy of knowing Sato still wanted to see me. In my head I kept picturing the twink with the deep, thoughtful eyes and full lips and cute nose and shining, shoulder-length hair. And, of course, I kept picturing the dick that went along with everything else. Those 7.5 inches of silky smooth cock. The way his cock was so hard but was so velvety on my lips and in my mouth and down my throat.

To be fair, I’d never have imagined that I would be fucked by an 18-year-old twink. Or, rather, near-twunk, since that’s what he really was. It wasn’t immediately a comfortable idea so I frequently found myself thinking of ways I may be able to turn the tables and have the gorgeous Sato bottom for me. But something made me think, maybe even know, that wouldn’t happen.

I think it was just his confidence. He came off as cocky, almost arrogant. I wasn’t able yet to discern whether that confidence actually was cocky and arrogant or if it was well earned. Either way, I found it extremely hot and, even as I tried to figure out ways to convince him to bottom for me after I let him top me, I was imagining myself with him after a shower, licking and kissing his clean feet and toes. If he asked me to do it while they were dirty, there would be no way. I might lose whatever meal I ate last.

I also imagined myself, to my surprise when I realized I was fantasizing about it, restrained and on my knees, my throat being fucked by Sato. Even after I came to the stunning realization that I was playing out such a submissive and cock-hungry scenario in my mind, I couldn’t deny that it would probably be unbelievably hot. I mean, come on. This teen was so sexy! That face, the perfect, clear skin. The long hair that, while slightly feminine, didn’t make him look like a girl. The confidence with which he walked, talked and, yes, fucked my face.

Sitting at my desk Wednesday when my manager announced he’d ordered fajitas for lunch for everybody, I had to sit there for a good 10 minutes for the raging erection I’d sprung while imagining the coming night with Sato to calm the fuck down. When I got to the buffet of meats, toppings and tortillas, all the guacamole and sour cream was gone.

When 5 p.m. rolled round, I shot up from my desk and practically ran to my car. I had to get out immediately, before my boss had the chance to come to my workstation last-minute and ask me to stay late or something.

I sped home and started ripping my clothes off from the moment I was in the door, collecting them and throwing them in my hamper on my way to the bathroom. My semi-hard dick was swaying with each rushed step. Getting my douche from the closet, I did what I needed to be clean just in case the sexy Sato did decide to fuck me tonight (realizing after a beat the somewhat disturbing fact that I wasn’t thinking about it in terms of my interest or consent but solely in whether or not he wanted to fuck me). 

I took a quick, hot shower, struggling hard and ultimately failing to keep from touching my dick. I did, however, manage to succeed in not stroking myself to orgasm. After I brushed my teeth, did my skincare, got dressed and fixed my hair, I ran around the apartment, frantically further tidying up the already-clean place.

When I was done, I checked my watch and found it was only 6:30. I’d been in such a rush, so needlessly. So I decided to take a quick inventory. I was wearing black slacks and a patterned blue button-down, black no-show socks,  and — oops. I forgot cologne. I went and spritzed some on my wrists and neck. Then I went and pulled out of my closet a pair of Prada loafers I’d been given as an ex gave me as a gift about a month before we broke up. I’d only worn them twice before, once to a wedding and once to a black tie party a friend had invited me to. I wanted to save them for special occasions to keep them in the best shape possible.

I got to Sato’s area 20 minutes early and, deciding I wanted to give the impression that I was feeling very chill about the whole thing, drove around in circles for 15 minutes. Showing up 5 minutes early wasn’t overly eager, it was just polite.

I parked outside his dorm and texted him that I was there. He sent a quick “k” reply and two minutes later was walking to my car. I got out, wanting to be the perfect gentleman, and opened the door as I watched him saunter confidently to me. He was a stunning sight, his tight fitting outfit with the blazer open and the chelsea boots that were just high enough to be bordering cross-dressing but not tall enough to make him look necessarily feminine, even when paired with the length of his perfect hair, which he’d tied back in what I could only describe as very anime samurai.

He gave me a cocky grin as he neared me and held it as he stepped into the car. I closed the door and walked around quickly to get in.

“Where to?” I asked.

“French place. I’ll text you the address,” Sato told me.

I plugged it into my phone and we were off. It was in Dallas, so it would take a little while to get there. 

When we pulled up, I realized it was valet only. That wasn’t a good sign for my wallet. I was well enough off, not struggling and actually enjoying my life for the first time for about the last two years, but I was getting the creeping feeling that Sato expected luxury. 

We sat down and Sato ordered some wine when the waiter brought out bread. He asked to see Sato’s ID, but the obviously-underage twink glared at him and said something to the effect of “What if I gave you $50?”

The waiter hesitated and Sato looked at me expectantly. Yeah, sure, Sato will give you $50 of my money, I thought. I don’t usually carry cash, but that night I was. I begrudgingly pulled out two 20s and a 10 and handed it discreetly to the waiter, who walked away and came back wordlessly with the wine bottle. 

“How’s your week been?” Sato asked.

I was a little surprised by the question. I guess I didn’t expect him to care much about me.

“Pretty good,” I told him. “Honestly, I’ve had some trouble focusing at work.”

I chuckled obviously, wishing I hadn’t said that because I knew there would be a follow-up. And there was.

“Why’s that?” Sato inquired.

“Well,” I said, taking a beat to figure out the right way to phrase it. “You gave me a lot to think about last time.”

Sato quirked that cocky grin again and looked at me knowingly.

“Jake got a bit of a crush?” Sato asked, then saving me from having to respond, “I get it. I almost moved our date up because I got a bit excited, but I decided it might be better to make you wait.”

That relieved so much of the tension I felt inside myself and between us. It also left me experiencing a thrill I didn’t entirely understand. It wouldn’t be until much later that I understood that excitement came from the fact that Sato was aware of my infatuation and exhibiting his authority in our brand new relationship by making me wait. 

And with that, we were off, talking about all manner of things from music to TV shows. Sato had started watching Euphoria on HBO and I’d been mindlessly binging Breaking Bad for the third time. 

When the waiter came back, Sato again ordered for both of us without consulting me. It ended up being good, though. Probably exactly what I’d have picked off the menu, and I noticed it was very bottom-friendly in its ingredients. Was I reading too much into it, or was that a good sign as to how the night would go?

We ordered another bottle of wine, for which I managed to negotiate the bribe to the waiter for serving us alcohol without worrying about Sato’s age down to $20 that time, and Sato enjoyed some dessert.

“I think it’s best if we save your dessert for later,” he told me in a conspiratorial tone even while the waiter was standing at our table. I blushed.

Sato told me about some school drama while he enjoyed the tiramisu.

“My professor for the data analytics class is such a cunt,” he said. “He marked 10 points off a paper I had to write because I missed a period at the end of a sentence.”

I relayed one of my college horror stories where a week before midterms an accounting professor realized she’d failed to assign different pieces of homework throughout the whole semester and said that it would fuck up her grading if we didn’t get it done, so we had to do nine assignments and turn them in the day before the midterm.

But of course, the whole time we were together I was fighting to keep my mind off what we would be doing next, if for nothing else than to keep my dick from fully hardening and tenting my pants embarrassingly. I had to work hard to focus when Sato was speaking, because the whole time my brain wanted to instead devote power to picturing him naked in front of me, his beautiful cock fully hard, his well-earned muscles flexing, his authoritative voice telling me, ever so casually, to get on my knees and suck him off.

Enjoyable as the dinner and conversation was, I was relieved to leave. In part because it meant Sato wouldn’t be ordering another bottle of wine I’d have to buy plus bribe the waiter for, but mainly because I was ready to get my “dessert,” as he’d called it.

When the valet pulled the car around, I opened the door for Sato and he gently stroked my chin with his thumb as he stepped in. I hurried around and got in the driver’s side and blurted, much more excited than I meant to, “My place?”

It made him laugh. He was so laid back and carefree and I could only imagine how horny and desperate I sounded.

“Yeah,” Sato answered through his laughter about my cock desperate mind. “Your place.”

I was moving to unlock the front door when Sato jumped me out of nowhere. He shoved me against the wall and slammed his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue past my lips. He moved one leg up my side, which I grabbed hold of, then the other so I was holding him up as we made out. God, his lips were so full and soft. His tongue was so forceful.

Not even worrying that one of my neighbors might come out into the hall and see a 29-year-old man getting his face eaten by an 18-year-old twink. I dropped the keys, but the sound of them hitting the floor seemed to awaken Sato to where we were. He pulled back.

“Get that fucking door open,” he practically ordered in a near-whisper.

I let him down to do as I was told. I pushed the door open and stepped aside for Sato to walk in and he grabbed me by either side of my jacket as he did, pulling me in with him. The door shut behind us and I again dropped my keys. This time Sato didn’t stop kissing me. Instead, he started unbuttoning my shirt and I his. My heart was pounding. This teen almost-twunk, shorter and younger and smaller than me, was taking charge in a way not even a man older and bigger than me had ever done. 

My shirt off, he grabbed fistfuls of my pecs and squeezed as he kept kissing me. Without warning, he then narrowed his grip to my nipples, which he took hold of with his thumbs and the second knuckles of his index fingers and squeezed and twisted. I tried to pull back by Sato just followed me back until I ran into the couch and fell backward, sitting there and moaning in the slight pain that shocked me throughout my body. 

As soon as my ass hit the couch, Sato pulled back and released my nipples, reaching up with his right hand to smack me in the face.

“Don’t run away from me, bitch,” he snarled. 

I should have been pissed off at an 18-year-old slapping and talking to me like that. I know I should have. But instead I found myself feeling guilty and, just maybe, a little scared. He didn’t give me time to process any thoughts and feelings as the hand he’d just slapped me with went around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to make my breathing a little bit of a chore, and went back to shoving his tongue into my mouth.

Sato only broke the kiss for a half second, long enough to say, “My pants.” I got the message and started undoing his belt. My hand brushed against his cock and an image of its magnificence flashed through my mind’s eye. It fueled me and drove me to work faster. I fumbled for a second or two with his belt but got it off, ripping it from his pants and throwing it aside after I got it out of the clasp.

I fumbled again with the button, unable to see what I was doing and splitting my attention between undressing this gorgeous teen and focusing on kissing him well. But when I did, the zipper came easily. When I grabbed his pants and briefs by the waistband and pulled down, Sato’s cock popped up and slapped his bare stomach. Sato squeezed just a little harder around my throat and started pushing me backwards so I was laying on the couch. He straddled me and with his free hand grabbed a fistfull of my hair, at no point breaking the kiss. 

I couldn’t believe I was doing this, consenting so quickly and eagerly to a teen choking me and pulling my hair and twisting my nipples and hurting me and dominating me. But it was so fucking satisfying. As he ground his cock back and forth over my abs, I realized that we hadn’t even had sex yet and if he decided he was done I would be just as fulfilled as if I’d had two orgasms in a row, just because of the emotional satisfaction that came from submitting to him and his abuse so easily.

When Sato pulled away from the kiss, I was confident in what I should expect. And I wasn’t wrong. In one fluid motion, the teen slid up, pulled my head forward by my hair and quickly and casually replaced his tongue in my mouth with the head of his cock. I opened up excitedly to welcome his cock in. 

He didn’t waste any time and got right to shoving his rod into my mouth and throat  all the way down to the hilt and then pulling it back until the head was about halfway in before pushing right back in.

“Fuck yeah, bitch,” Sato growled at me. “You love that Japanese cock. You fuckin love that fucking Japanese cock. You need it you stupid faggot. You need my big Japanese teen cock like you need oxygen.”

His words were primarily for him, I knew, but I found myself mentally, emphatically agreeing with each statement as he said it, even as I was gagging and choking and fighting for whatever breaths I could get through my nose as he jackhammered his cock into my face.

Yes, fucking god yes I do love your Japanese cock. I swear I love your Japanese cock. I am a stupid faggot who needs your cock, Sato. You’re right. I need it. I need your big Japanese teen cock, and it’s actually more important than air to me. I need it more than anything.

Without realizing it, I stopped consciously caring about breathing. That biological need for air was there, but it wasn’t something I was aware of or concerned about. My whole mind was totally consumed by my lust for Sato, my devastating hunger for his cock and his body and even though I wasn’t fully aware of it yet, his control.

“Such a good boy,” he said. “Yeah. Just lay there and give me your mouth. You know you want me to use your throat. Yeah. Take. It. Bitch. Let it happen. Relax and you’ll enjoy it. You know you will.”

My jaw was cramping now and my throat was sore and felt like it was going to start swelling if he didn’t stop, but that didn’t change anything. It was exceptionally clear that Sato didn’t care how I was feeling or what I wanted here. He was going to decide for me what I wanted and how I was feeling. And he knew I was going to let him. It also didn’t change the fact that I really did want this. I’d been spending my days at work daydreaming about this, my dick hard and leaking in my pants as I sat at my desk, missing deadlines and generally screwing up at work. This was what I’ve been waiting for all week. I was bigger than Sato. If I wanted to, and I mean truly wanted to, I could get myself free and switch the roles and there would be nothing he could do about it. But I didn’t want to.

My desire to be under his control was so intense that even though I wanted to free my hands from his legs that were pinning them down to get to my own cock, I couldn’t will myself to move them for fear that it would disturb him or disappoint him by worrying about myself when I should clearly be focused on moving my now-exhausted tongue around his cock as it thrust in and out of my mouth. I tried to move my right hand to see if I could get out from under him without him noticing. But he did notice and answered my attempt with a smack to the face without stopping the face fuck.

“If I wanted you to play with your little white shrimp dick I would tell you to,” he said, smacking me in the face again before shoving his cock all the way down my throat and holding it there. “I know you’re a hopeless slut but I also know you’ve been playing with that embarrassment of a dick all week. You don’t need to touch your dick. You need to focus on mine. And why did you stop moving your tongue?”

Immediately I started wrigging my tongue around as much as I could with what little space his cock left in my mouth.

I was otherwise totally frozen and running out of air as he talked, but I was also so incredibly turned on by the way he was talking to me like garbage. My brain was overloaded by it all. If I could have exhaled I would have been shouting out orgasm-level moans in response to his degradation and demeaning tone. It was enough to make my dick twitch in my pants. I thought I was going to cum just from that and was so glad I didn’t. It would have been too embarrassing for me to handle. 

“Now, I’m gonna start fucking your face again and you’re going to lay there, relax, take it and enjoy it,” Sato said. “Do you understand me?”

Careful not to get my teeth on his big cock, I nodded my head as best I could.

Sato didn’t start back up slowly. He was right back to full speed.

“Look at me when I’m fucking your throat, bitch,” Sato growled at me.

I opened my eyes and looked up as far as I could, my eyes watering and sending tears down my face in a fairly constant stream. Sato was looking right back down at me, making eye contact, and I was immediately overwhelmed by his looks. This teen was worthy of being idolized. The intensity in his eyes was stunning. His expression was a mix of sadistic pleasure and, if I was reading into it right, a strange sort of affection. An affectionate look that said that he wanted to hurt me and abuse me, but also wanted to kiss me and hold me and comfort me and even, though I couldn’t think of how it would make sense for him to protect me considering our differences in size, protect me when he was done using my body like a cheap manufactured toy.

Sato kept pumping into my throat for another five minutes before he bottomed out and held it. When my body started to panic because of my suffocation by cock, he pushed my head down and shifted himself up so that he was practically sitting on my face with his cock lodged in my airway, but managed to do it in a way that my hands were still pinned. By the time I was so panicked I couldn’t stop myself from trying to get him off of me, I was already getting lightheaded and couldn’t muster the strength to break free of him. Me, a six-foot 29-year-old man with enough muscle to lift the twink up and carry him with one arm, unable to break free. 

Just when I thought I was about to lose control of my jaw and involuntarily bite down to free myself of the intrusion, Sato suddenly stood, yanking his cock from my mouth. I felt a sudden surge of anger as I drew my shuddering first breath.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, looking down at me coughing and sputtering and gasping for air. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jake. That was hardcore.”

I looked at him through watery eyes, unable to stop my coughing and gasping long enough to respond and tell him to go fuck himself and that he almost made me involuntarily bite his cock off. But as I caught my breath and my eyes cleared, looking up at him, seeing the shorter twink towering over my laying form, my anger quickly faded. I was left with only lust and infatuation.

“Now lets get you to that bed so I can finally get rid of my virginity,” Sato commanded, raising up his right leg and nudging me in the face with the balls of his feet. So fucking demeaning. So goddamn arrogant and demanding. I was drunk off it.

Weak all over, I slowly stood and found my footing. Sato grabbed me by the belt buckle and led me into the bedroom. The bathroom light was on, lending a dim, moody light to the space. My teen twink boyfriend didn’t waste any time. He aptly unbuckled and removed my belt, then shoved me onto the bed.

“Strip,” he said, throwing my belt on the bed next to the floor.

I did as I was ordered, laying back on the bed and lifting my ass up to pull my pants and Pump briefs off at the same time, tossing them to the floor.

“I hope you realize what’s about to happen. How lucky you’re about to be,” Sato said. As he climbed on the bed. He paused on his knees next to me and reached out with his right hand to grab my balls tightly. I flinched at the action, but in reality the strength with which he was gripping my balls wasn’t meant to create anything more than a dull discomfort. He leaned in close. “I’m about to give you a gift that I can only ever give one person in this life. Something I can’t take back, something you can’t give back. You’re fucking blessed to be gifted with the virginity of a man like me, so you’d better fucking behave like you know that.

“Yes, sir,” I said to him, the ‘sir’ coming natural to me. He liked it, too. A cocky, satisfied grin stretched across his face.

“Good boy. Now get up here and start working on my nipples,” Sato commanded, laying down on the bed and folding his hands behind his head with his legs spread wide.

Still weak and shaky from the near-blackout experience on the couch, I dragged myself to him as eagerly as I could manage and latched my mouth onto his left nipple. I started with a few licks and received appreciative soft moans as a reward. I knew how to make his nipples more sensitive and make this feel better for him, though, so I gently bit down on it and started nibbling. He let out a quiet exclamation of surprise but didn’t hit the back of my head like I expected. Satisfied that I’d done enough, I went back to licking and sucking on his small brown nipple, darting my tongue across it as quickly as I could.

After the bite to make it more sensitive, Sato’s moans were a little louder.

“Fuck, Jake, you know what you’re doing,” Sato praised me without ceasing his moans. “Such a talented and experienced slut. You’re neighbors are gonna know just how talented the two of us are by the end of the night, we’re gonna make each other get so loud.”

For some reason, I doubted Sato would give me the best bottoming experience of my life. But the 18-year-old almost-no-longer-virgin twink hadn’t stopped surprising me yet so I didn’t count it out. It was more likely that I would be loud as a result of the pain of his inexperienced topping, but at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he completely blew my mind and made me cum hands free. He’d already proven he knew what he was doing with oral topping. 

I kept working over his left nipple for a minute longer, then switched to his right. I bit down softly, getting another almost unhappy exclamation but this time I think he realized why I was doing it, so he didn’t sound as upset. When I got to licking on this one I found it was more sensitive than the left. In a heartbeat, Sato was arching his back and moaning.

“Shit, fuck, worship that nipple bitch,” Sato ordered loudly. His hand came down on the back of my head and he pushed my face down onto his chest. I was exceptionally proud of myself. Making him feel this good was enough to make me feel like I was worthy of his attention. Shit. Worthy of his attention? This twink really had me under a spell.

I spent a good while on that until Sato decided he was done.

“Kiss and lick my abs,” he ordered me flatly after pulling my head up off him. 

I didn’t respond verbally, instead just going straight for his stomach and lavishing in the deep ridges of his abs. Sato wasn’t a stranger to the gym, but he also wasn’t a gym rat. His abs were as much due to the lack of body fat as they were his work toward training those muscles in the gym. But that didn’t change how satisfying it felt to have my nose and tongue bouncing in and out of them. I kissed and licked each of them several times to the soundtrack of his soft sounds of approval. “Ooh” and “ah” and “oh” and “yeah” repeated over and over in varying orders. When he was ready for me to move on, Sato didn’t say anything but instead used his favorite method of controlling me and grabbed my hair to guide my head down to his balls. 

I started by lapping at them before sucking them gently into my mouth one at a time and rolling them around with my tongue. Then he had me lick his cock and kiss his cockhead.

“Make out with my dickhead, slut,” he said. “Show it how much you love it and appreciate it and how much you want to feel it up your ass.”

And that’s just what I did. I pulled the foreskin all the way back and kissed it, took it just inside my lips, polished it with my tongue. I knew Sato had a sensitive cockhead, but he did a fantastic job of managing his reaction, I imagined to keep me from feeling too proud of myself. 

“That’s enough,” Sato said suddenly. “On your back, get in position.”

My heart racing with nerves, I did as he said. I pulled my legs back as far as I could and Sato put a pillow under my ass to prop it up before grabbing the bottle of lube. To my surprise, though, he didn’t immediately open it. Instead, he sat it on the bed and then knelt in font of my ass. He pulled my cheeks apart to expose my hole, looked at me with that devilish, cocky grin, and dived in. His tongue on my hole had me squirming. Of all the things I expected from Sato, getting rimmed was not one of them. 

He still hadn’t gotten anywhere close to putting my cock in his mouth, yet here he was engaging in foreplay that involved his tongue and my hole. And he seemed to know what he was doing, too. I couldn’t lay still, it felt so good. He was right that my neighbors would hear how good he was by the end of the night, and that fact helped me to relax. If he was this good at rimming, chances were better that he knew what he was doing when he fucked, too.

After giving me the best rim job of my life, Sato sat up with a proud expression.

“I did my research for tonight,” he said. He offered no other explanation as he lubed up his index finger then began teasing my hole. “Did you shave it for me or is your ass naturally hairless?”

I looked up at him embarrassed and he chuckled at me. Sato may have been 18, but he was sharp and quick. He could read the admission that I did in my expression. Suddenly I felt pressure on my hole. It took me a moment, but I managed to relax enough to make its entry smoother. Sato felt around, concentration clear in his eyes, and again quirked that cocky grin that made me feel woozy with excitement when he found my g-spot. He started rubbing it and I started moaning again.

He took his time, putting in two fingers after a while, then three to stretch me out. For some reason, I thought Sato was just going to slap some lube on his cock, smear a little on my hole and shove it in all the way and ignore whether I was too tight or not. But when he pulled out his fingers and covered his cock with copious amounts of lube, I knew by looking at how thick it was that his stretching wasn’t quite enough. I wanted to say something but held my tongue. This was his special night. I felt not only the need but the desire to do everything I could to make it not only a good experience for him, but something he could feel proud of. I determined in that moment to do whatever I had to, even if it meant ignoring any pain or at least trying to make it look like a reaction to pleasure if I needed to.

When his thick cockhead reached my hole, Sato rubbed it up and down for a minute, keeping his eyes locked with mine, before slowly starting to push. I did my best to relax and push out to make my hole more welcoming to him, but it still hurt. And just like that, I broke my composure and let out a loud yelp.

“If it hurts you can either keep it to yourself or you can bitch and moan all you want,” Sato said intimately, leaning down so his face was a few inches from mine. “See if I care.”

At that moment, I realized Sato had stretched me out to make it easier on me but probably realized when I reacted the way I did that my pain pushed his sadistic buttons. Still, he seemed to take care and pushed in slowly. I grimaced and moaned and whined but did my best to keep it all to a minimum. Still, despite the look on his face that said he was getting off on my pain, Sato kept going slowly and taking breaks to let me adjust. I imagined there was a battle between three parts of his mind: the sadistic part that enjoyed my agony, the proud side that wanted to prove he could fuck better than anyone and the affectionate side that knew he got off on seeing me hurt physically but didn’t want to see me think he was being excessively cruel and feel hurt emotionally. 

In the end, Sato took about five minutes to get balls deep inside me. He stayed there for a few seconds, looking at me with amazement before he slowly started pulling backwards, then pushed back in. With each in-out motion, Sato picked up the speed a little.

“Fucking oh my fucking god,” Sato cried out right before he started really picking up the speed. “Your ass is so tight. And its so fucking warm and soft inside.”

My hope for Sato to know what he was doing his first fuck were quickly dashed. He was sloppy and all over the place and his technique had me flinching and in almost constant pain. But when he called out, “Look me in the fucking face, bitch. I’m giving you my virginity, you better fucking appreciate it,” I locked eyes with him and stopped caring. This twink, 11 years younger than me, had the charismatic power and drop dead gorgeous looks to have me here on my back, holding my knees to my best so he could fuck me and lose his virginity, and seeing into his eyes I knew I was making the right choice. The sadism was gone, replaced By amazement and excitement and affection and pride. 

His hair was hanging down a little, but it didn’t stop me from seeing his young and beautiful face. The way he was grunting was fucking hot. His wide eyes of discovery were adorable. His mouth slightly open in pleasure was a compliment to my ability to please him. I started pushing the pain out of my mind and instead focused on looking at him. This twink was taking something from me at the same time as he was giving me his virginity. No, that’s not right. He wasn’t taking it from me. He was accepting it. He was accepting my surrender to his authority in the same way I was accepting his virgin card: with excitement and pride. Why this twink, a daunting mixture of adorable and sexy and hot, picked me I will never be able to fully understand. I’m an attractive guy, but Sato could have had his pick of any gay man. But he chose me. That realization as I drank in his beauty came with a humility I didn’t expect. I felt honored to be here.

Even as he shoved his cock in at all the wrong angles and couldn’t keep a steady pace and only managed to brush up against my g-spot once out of ever 10 or so thrusts, I was getting more out of this fuck than I had out of any other, as a top or a bottom, and it was all psychological. 

The room was loud with the sounds of our sex. His body slamming repeatedly into mine, his grunts and moans of satisfaction, my grunts and moans of both pain and occasional satisfaction. When he leaned down to change his angle again, I lifted my head up and took one of his nipples into my mouth and started working it over. His moans got even louder, telling me I’d made a good move. 

Sato suddenly became even less coordinated and I knew what was coming.

“Jerk your cock,” he commanded me.

I reached around with my right hand, still holding my leg back as best I could, and grabbed ahold of my dick to find it full-mast. I hadn’t even realized how turned on I was by this.

“You gonna cum?” he grunted. Then, before I had a chance to answer, “Cause I’m about to.”

Then, without any further warning, Sato let out a roar and bottomed out in my ass. I could feel his big Japanese cock twitching inside me in time with orgasmic grunts. I jerked myself harder and faster, amazed and indescribably turned on by the thought of Sato breeding me. Then suddenly I was cumming too, spurred forward by the fact that shot after shot of his cum was flooding my insides. My own cum started spirting up. The first shot hit me in the face. The second managed to catch Sato under his chin, but he didn’t seem to care. The third, fourth and fifth all landed on my chest and in my abs before my orgasm turned into a steady stream of cum leaking out of my dick. Sato fired off his last volley inside me a split second after I’d shot mine on myself. He collapsed atop me, breathing heavily with his cock still buried balls deep. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he laid there on top of me, almost folding my body in half.

“Fuck,” he said finally. “I just fuckin fucked you. And it felt so, so, so good.”

More pride rushed through my body. I knew I had to say something, too, to make him feel good about his first performance.

“You were fucking amazing,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie, just a half-truth. He was amazing through most of it, even if parts of it were too sloppy or painful to enjoy. “Best fuck of my life.”

That second statement wasn’t a lie. Physically, I’d definitely had better. But the gratification I felt at that moment had never been beat. Sato lifted up his head to look me in the eyes and smiled. This time, the smile was all affection and maybe even admiration. Without notice, he lowered his head to mine and began kissing me.

“Shit,” he said, exhausted, when he broke the kiss. 

Slowly, Sato pulled his slightly deflated cock out of my ass. I was surprised to be sad that it was leaving me. When he was all the way out, Sato rolled over onto his back for a second before saying we should go get in the shower. I could have the honor of washing his body, he told me, but I should go first to take care of my post-breeding needs. And that I did. When I was done, I turned on the shower and Sato came into my bathroom. He stepped in and I followed him. Immediately I grabbed the body wash and began lathering it on his now-wet body. The fact that I felt a stir in my dick so soon after sex was amazing. I could go multiple rounds, don’t get me wrong. I was only 29, not 60. But, to be recovered and getting boned up again so quickly was an accomplishment made possible only by the fact that I was touching the body of this twink I now found myself idolizing.

When I was done washing him and he was rinsed off, Sato got out of the shower and dried off. I quickly washed myself and did the same, walking into the bedroom to find him laying there on the bed. Wordlessly and still exhausted and reveling in the afterglow of our sex, Sato looked at me with that same look of care. The darker, almost cruel side of him was dormant in his post-nut clarity. He patted the bed next to him and I took off my towel and climbed in. Before I could lay my head on the pillow next to Sato, planning to let him rest on my chest, he put his hand behind it and guided me to his body. 

To say it felt absurd to rest my head on the chest of an 18-year-old would be an understatement. The sheer differences in our sizes was enough to make this scene preposterous. But at the same time, it felt right. Sure, he was shorter than me. Enough so that I could feel his feet against my shin. And yeah, he was younger and his chest wasn’t as broad. But none of that mattered. This boy had just fucked the shit out of me and, while he had a lot of learning to do when it came to technique as a top, he had cemented his role in our relationship (however it would be defined in the end) as the more dominant role. So instead of dwelling on how crazy it was that a fully grown man of almost 30 was resting his head on his 18-year-old lover to bask in the afterglow I decided to just enjoy it.

We laid like that for a good 20 minutes before Sato grabbed the remote on my bedside table and turned on the TV. He put on a show and turned the volume down, then looked at me seriously.

“I’m starting to get horny again,” he told me casually. “Get down there and massage my feet. Use both your hands and your mouth.”

The demanding and authoritative Sato was back, but I wasn’t one to argue with him. I was fully hard again. I threw back the covers to see Sato was mostly, but not fully, erect and then knee walked to his feet. I grabbed his left one and started massaging it. I knew he expected me to kiss his feet and lick and suck on his toes, but I was hesitant. I didn’t find feet disgusting, per se, and his weren’t ugly as far as feet go, but one thing about me that never changed was the fact that I didn’t have a foot fetish. Something told me he didn’t, either. This was him getting off on his control over me. And when I was honest with myself I could say I got off on his control over me just as much. So swallowing my pride and burying my doubts, I lifted his foot up to my face and took a tentative lick of his big toe. We’d just gotten out of the shower and because Sato had good hygiene it probably wouldn’t have mattered if we hadn’t. His feet were clean.

Still not entirely sure of myself (though I would later come to realize that was something Sato enjoyed when he ordered me to do certain things), I took his big toe into my mouth and began swirling my tongue around it and sucking. I took my time, deciding that if I was going to do something I’d do it right. When I looked up at his face, I saw that cocky smile had returned. He was immensely satisfied with himself and the way I demonstrated my willing submission to him. 

I was there sucking his feet for a while before Sato grabbed ahold of his now-fully hard cock and started stroking. It wasn’t long after that he ordered me onto the floor on my knees, then grabbed me by the hair and guided my face to his balls. I didn’t need instructions. I just started licking and worshiping them. Sato jacked himself and told me I could “play with your dick too, I guess.” It only took about five minutes before he again took hold of my hair and pulled my face back. He didn’t offer any warning before aiming his dick at my face and firing off four volleys of fresh cum. That sent me over the edge, too, and I squeezed my dick hard just below the head to keep from shooting my load all over rug under my bed.

When he was done, Sato said I could take care of my load but to leave his on my face and join him in the living room, turning off the TV and walking away with his still-erect cock swinging back and forth. I was left there on my knees, his cum dripping off my chin and too my chest. I stood up, dumped my load into a shirt in my laundry basket and did as he said. I got to the couch to find him sitting there with his phone on his naked lap. When I sat down next to him, he turned to look at me, raised the phone up and snapped a picture of my cummy face before I could realize what was happening and protest. 

“I wanna save this for later,” he told me before walking toward my kitchen. I watched his ass as he went, enjoying the way the small but firm muscles flexed with each step. When he came back he had a paper towel for me to wipe my face with. He turned on the TV and we watched a few episodes of a show, then Sato got up.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” he told me. “You’re gonna stay just like that.”

He came back a few moments later fully clothed and carrying my wallet.

“I’m gonna take this,” he said, pulling out one of my credit cards. “I promise I’m not going to go on some crazy buying spree, but I don’t have a lot of my own money right now so I’ll spend yours for now.”

I should have felt like arguing the point, but I didn’t. Instead, I just sort of understood. He was a full time student with no job. And because I had to work full time and take out loans to get myself through college, I figured I could give him one of my credit cards so he could enjoy college life more than I got the chance to do. And he was Sato. I would give a lot for him. The sudden realization that I was that infatuated made me realize I needed to reevaluate and take a step back. I’d let him take the credit card for now. I could always take it back later or freeze it if he was spending too much. And if he was gonna ghost me after taking it, which I realized at that moment was a possibility, I could cancel it.

We sat there like that for a while. I was totally naked and he was dressed, which felt a little strange if I’m honest. We watched a few more episodes, then Sato pulled out his phone and my credit card.

“I’m gonna order an Uber back to the dorm,” he told me. “You can pick me up for our next date Friday. ‘Kay?”

I protested about him taking an Uber but he said he liked the idea of leaving me sitting here on the couch naked and I could honestly understand that sentiment. We agreed I’d pick him up at 7 p.m. on Friday and Sato gave me a passionate, lingering kiss before heading out to catch is ride. Realizing it was already 4 a.m., I went ahead when the door closed behind Sato and wrote up and sent an email to my boss saying I’d been up all night sick and would need the day off.

When Sato texted to say he was back in his dorm, I replied with a goodnight text and went to bed, where I jerked off while fingering my now slightly loose hole and thinking about Sato until I had my third orgasm of the night and fell asleep.

---

Note: This chapter is resubmitted after a technical difficulty! I’m still trying to figure out where this is going, so if you have any ideas on where Sato should take this relationship let me know in the comments or shoot me an email!

Sunday

12:22 PM

I couldn’t really take a nap after all the excitement, so I just sat on my bed and thought about what I was feeling. I was confused because in some way, these were the two men I trusted more than anything and yet I was thinking things I could not shake. Doug had become not only a sexual character in my mind, but a man I was starting to fall for in ways I had never fallen for guys my own age. My dad on the other hand is…my dad. And so seeing him naked in all his glory like that really was not something I ever thought I would see with my own eyes. And yet I liked it. I even liked seeing them together. So many thoughts were jumbled in my head that I felt like talking to Doug was the only real step forward.

I began my descent from the staircase and could see that Doug sat alone on the couch, staring out of the big living room window, deep in thought.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He went out to get a few things for us for lunch. Sleep okay?”

I allowed my silence to fill the room before stepping in front of him, a look of concern forming on his face.

“Everything okay, sport?”

“I saw you fuck my dad.”

Doug had no words. He stared at me in silence for what felt like minutes.

“You have nothing to say?”

“Your father and I have a…complicated relationship. We used to mess around when we were younger. Much younger. A few times here and there as we aged. But never anything like this. I wasn’t expecting this at all. Everything with you Keith has felt so new and meaningful. With your Dad, it felt like a raw sexual desire in him. I think he misses having that. And he felt like he could get some relief with me.”

I could see the sincerity in Doug’s eyes. He was nothing if not an honest man. I warmed the space and sat down next to him, our legs touching gently.

“I get that. It looked like you two had some good fun.”

Dough chuckled lightly. “Your father is good at what he does. That’s weird. I shouldn’t say stuff like that to you. I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Can I be honest with you? I kind of liked it. Seeing you together. It made me wish I was down there.”

Doug shook his head. “No Keith, that’s your old man. You are just confused because I think you find me attractive and you saw me there doing things with him. That’s all it was.”

“No, I know what I felt. Yes, you are right. Anywhere you are right now and I’m going to be turned on. But I wanted Dad too. I saw his body in detail. He’s amazing.”

“He is a handsome man. I just don’t know what to tell you. You have to turn all that off in your mind. When we go home, we can have fun and enjoy each other again. Okay?”

“What do you think he would do? If I tried to propose something with all of us.”

Doug had enough of the conversation and stood up. “Now listen Keith, drop it okay? If your Dad finds out me and you did anything together, he will kill me. And then you. Enough is enough.”

“Enough wasn’t enough when you swallowed every last drop of my father’s cum, was it?”

“I’m not his family.”

“You’re as good as, ‘Uncle’”.

“Here he comes now, shut up. You hear me?”

Dad walked in with an arm full of groceries. I quickly ran over and took some of the bags from him.

“Look at you. Decided to finally wake up, did we?”

“Yes I did. I’m rested and ready to have a good time with my two favorite men.”

Dad gave me a smile and rubbed the back of my neck.

He walked over to the counter and held up a bag, “Sandwiches anyone?”.

Doug approached the counter anxiously.

8:07 PM

The rest of the day I played it cool, trying to figure out the best way to present myself to him. From the sounds of what Doug said, it seemed like Dad really needed sex. And maybe that desperate desire could work toward my advantage. Dad had popped open his fourth beer as he threw himself onto the couch. I had convinced him and Doug to watch an old Superman movie with me, it was one of my favorites. I pushed in the DVD and then plopped myself next to Dad, cuddling up closer next to him a bit closer than I usually do. His face was all red from the beer and you could see he had started to sweat a bit. It didn’t help that about an hour ago I “accidentally” switched up the thermostat toward the heat.

Doug was also clearly starting to get warm. “Never wanted to invest in a damn A/C, did you Robert?”

Dad rubbed the sweat from his forehead and let out a jolly chuckle. “You pay the damn bill, then.”

I looked down toward Dad’s cargo pants. “I can get you some shorts Dad. You are probably overheating with all those damn beers.”

“Could you, Keith? That would feel better I’m sure.”

“Here, I’ll take the old ones now.” I started to grab at his ankles, playfully trying to pull the cargo pants down, but he resisted with his posture.

“No, no. Just get me the damn shorts. I’ll go to the bathroom.”

“We’re all men here, aren’t we? Plus look at you. A drunken mess. Legs up.”

He paused for a moment before lifting his feet off the floor and allowing me to pull the pants off of him, exposing his thick sweat soaked thighs. All he wore underneath was a white pair of briefs that were also soaked with sweat and showed a firm imprint of his large flaccid cock.

I saw Doug studying the situation from his couch, knowing exactly what I was up to.

“Fuck that feels good!” Dad shouted. “Good call Keith.”

“Shirt next!”

Dad didn’t even argue this time, clearly enjoying having the sweat soaked clothes off of him. I leaned over toward his chest and prompted him to lift his massive biceps up, allowing me to peel the shirt off of him. I stood for a moment and admired his chest up close. I think he caught a glimpse of me staring but chose to ignore it.

“I say fuck the shirts. Fuck the pants. It’s too damn hot!” I proclaimed. I then began to peel off my shirt and pants, leaving nothing but my boxer briefs to conceal my hardening cock. I sat back on the couch and leaned in toward Dad.

“Where are my fucking shorts genius?”

“Let yourself air out. You are all sticky.” I said before playfully rubbing the center of his pecs for a moment.

He pushed my arm aside, letting out a laugh. “Now so are you.”

Doug just shook his head and also took his shirt off, leaving his shorts on as a sign of disapproval with the situation.

Dad fell in and out of sleep as we watched the movie. I used every moment of snore to my advantage as I slowly began placing my right hand on his thigh, inching my way toward his underwear. With one final burst of sleep, I made the great leap from the edge of his underwear onto his bulge. My heart began pounding as I allowed my fingers to rest there before gently squeezing his shaft through the cotton.

I heard him breath a bit louder. Awake. Doug turned his head to face us.

I could feel Dad’s body tense up. “Son. What the fuck are you doing?” There was a fear in his voice. I turned to face him, his look of confusion staring down at my hand and then back at me.

“I saw you and Uncle today. It made me want to be a part of it. To make you feel good.”

“We can’t do that, Keith.” He said firmly, although some wavering in his voice made it seem like part of him did not agree with what he was saying.

“This would stay between us Dad. Doug would do it. I’ve talked to him about it.”

Doug started to protest when Dad spoke up above him. “Doug, shush. It’s fine. Keith is just confused.” He pushed my hand away and stood up, his ass cheeks leaking sweat through the briefs. “Up, off to bed. Your Uncle and I clearly have to talk.”

I didn’t move, instead resting one hand back on his chest. My thumb just grazing his nipple. “Daddy, please? Think about it.”

He held his hand against mine for a moment before removing my hand from his chest.

“I’m not negotiating about this, Keith. Please go to your room now.”

My eyes started to swell with tears. I feared that he was mad at me. That he would never talk to Doug again. I started to blabber out all the things I was thinking and they only made him frown. He rested his hands on my shoulders. “It’s alright Keith. Go to bed son, I love you. “ He kissed me on the forehead and pushed me in the direction of the stairs. 

I listened at the door frame as the two of them began to talk. I couldn’t hear the whole conversation but it was clear Dad was distressed. I think Doug told him about us. Dad swore, several times. But then he calmed down. I thought it was best for me to go to bed, maybe it would be like this night never happened. I truly did not know what I was thinking.

11:49 PM

I could hear the creak in my door open and a subtle plume of hallway light bleed into the darkness. I decided to keep pretending I was sleeping. I did not want to talk to anyone. The door shut and I felt a weight lean itself on my legs. It must be Doug. Probably checking up on me.

“Doug, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay Keith.” I heard him whisper. He laid down on top of me and began kissing me, his tongue finding ways into the sleepy crevices of my mouth. “I love you so much. You’re a good man. You hear me? I can still make you feel good tonight if you want.”

“I would love that.” I smiled in the dark. Doug began rubbing his hands over my chest, using his thumbs to flick my nipples which he had come to learn made me rock hard in a matter of seconds. He moved one hand down and began stroking my cock. He carefully made his way to my ass next, spreading my legs and peeling my underwear off from my ankles.

Doug began rimming me with intense tongue motions, my breath turning into audible moans. I tried to keep quiet so Dad would not hear. This was the last thing he needed to see.

“I want to fuck you, Keith.”

“Yes, Doug. Please fuck me.” I begged. First with his fingers, then with the tip of his cock. He began pushing more firmly until he had his whole shaft inside and started to thrust back and forth with forceful motions. I started to play with the base of my cock and balls until I felt him place his wet mouth down onto my throbbing head. I screamed out in pleasure, surprised that he was able to suck my cock while fucking me at the same time. Doug could fuck me all day long if he wanted. I reached out to grab his hair and force his mouth further down my cock when my fingers made contact with a smooth scalp.

My whole body froze for a moment. Doug continued to thrust his dick into my hole as another mouth continued its slobbering down my shaft.

Dad.

I grabbed his smooth head once again and began pushing his jaw up and down with forceful motions. I could hear him choking on his own saliva, allowing it to drip down my incredibly sensitive head with each breath he took. It was still pitch black, but I knew it was him for certain. His body was smoother, his build bulkier than Doug’s. Dad stopped sucking my cock and pushed his chest up against mine. With the faintest moon glow, I could see the silver in his eyes. He said nothing, but gently placed his hand on my cheek. His touch was foreign in this way and yet somehow so familiar too. I stared at him for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He barely moved at all. He processed for a moment before doing the same back to me. Then I felt his chemicals begin to surge. The animalistic being I saw in the shower stall was here now. One kiss became three. Then five. Then 20. Dad began using his tongue and thrusting his massive cock against mine as we made out, Doug still going to town in my ass, throwing himself against me so hard that I swear he was banging my prostate. My cock leaked out some precum, which became sticky causing tiny globs to rub against Dad’s head as he continued rubbing his cock onto mine. Dad stopped kissing me, lifting his body upward and placing his now fully erect cock right in front of my lips.

I kissed the tip of his head before slathering my tongue all over it. His moans had a sweet sound to my ears. I began sucking him harder, pausing every so often to audibly breathe out, the fucking from Doug getting harder with each passing minute. He must be close.

With loud echoing shouts, I heard Doug scream out and could feel his warm load filling the inside of my hole, which was now completely loose and dripping. I continued to suck Dad until I also heard him start to moan louder as well. I could feel him try to move away, probably not wanting to cum in his son’s mouth. But I held his butt cheeks firm in between my grip and kept his cock on my tongue. His semen exploded into my mouth, tasting perfectly sweet in that moment. His legs gave out and he landed his cheeks on my chest as he pumped his remaining seed into his son. He removed his cock slowly, allowing the last of the load to drip off my lips. He lowered his face toward me and began to lick the cum off of my mouth before kissing me once more. I could feel Doug start to jack me off as Dad continued kissing me, also starting to play with my nipples in the process.

In seconds I was cumming, as my two favorite men laid their wet thick bodies onto mine. This was bliss. I don’t know what Doug had said to Dad to change his mind, but I was forever thankful. This was everything I thought it could be and more. I felt Dad kiss me one more time before standing and heading toward the door. Doug got up next and gave me a tender kiss and rubbed my chest before heading out and shutting the door.

I could not wait for tomorrow.

In the heart of an ancient, secluded jungle, where the trees whispered secrets older than time, lay the small tribe known as the Kaldor. Among them lived Korin, a young warrior-to-be, barely out of his teenage years, with eyes that bore the weight of his impending fate. His youthful body was strong, his muscles taut from years of preparation for the rite of passage that would define his life.

The tribe’s customs were as old as the forest itself, and the rite of manhood was the pinnacle of a young man’s journey. This ritual was overseen by Eko, a seasoned warrior, whose body bore the scars of countless battles, his presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure. Eko, with his deep-set eyes and a presence that seemed to fill the very air, had taken Korin under his wing, but there was an unspoken tension between mentor and student, a tension born from Eko’s hidden desires.

Korin’s training was rigorous, demanding not just physical strength but a spirit unbreakable. Each day began with the harsh, cold light of dawn, his body pushed to its limits under Eko’s watchful gaze. But as the days turned into weeks, Eko’s gaze lingered longer, his touches during training held a moment too long, filled with an intensity that spoke of more than just mentorship.

Eko, struggling with his own desires, sought counsel from Ayana, the tribe’s fiercest and mightiest warrior. She was a vision of power, her body sculpted by the gods of war, her presence alone enough to quell any rebellion. Her hair, wild and untamed like the jungle around them, framed a face that could both inspire and intimidate.

During one of Korin’s grueling training sessions, Ayana observed from the shadows, her eyes sharp, assessing. She saw the struggle within Eko, the way his hands seemed to yearn for more than just guidance. Approaching him as the sun dipped below the horizon, she whispered words that would change the course of Korin’s life.

The sight of Korin, at the cusp of manhood, was striking under the harsh training regimen. His body was lean but muscular, each muscle defined by the rigorous life of a warrior-to-be. His youthful chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, sweat glistening on his skin, highlighting the contours of his sculpted torso. His strong arms flexed with every movement, showing the power he had cultivated. But it was not just his upper body that caught the eye. Korin’s legs were equally impressive, thick with muscle from countless sprints and squats. His buttocks, firm and rounded, were a sight of strength and agility, often flexing and tightening with each lunge or leap, drawing attention. This part of him was exposed during the exercises, the fabric clinging to his form in a way that left little to the imagination.

“Don’t cry, Eko, you need not suppress your desires,” she said, her voice a blend of command and seduction. “Korin does not need to become a man. He can be my male wife, and in that, you will find your pleasure.”

Eko’s heart raced at the suggestion, his mind full of joy The idea of having Korin, not as a warrior but as something to be claimed, was intoxicating. Yet, the rite was not just about physical prowess but about becoming a man of the tribe.

The ritual night arrived under a sky heavy with stars, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs meant to cleanse and empower. The tribe gathered around a massive bonfire, its flames dancing to the beat of the drums that thrummed like heartbeats. Korin stood, his body painted with symbols of strength and courage, his eyes wide with both fear and determination.

The physical trials began, each one a test of endurance, resilience, and skill. Korin fought with a ferocity that belied his years, but as the night wore on, the tests became more than just physical. Eko, guided by Ayana’s words, began to push boundaries, his training sessions taking on a darker, more intimate tone. As the last of the physical trials concluded, leaving Korin exhausted but victorious, Eko announced a final test, one that would determine Korin’s true path. His voice was grave, his eyes not meeting Korin’s. “You have shown your strength and bravery, but there is one more barrier to overcome.”

Korin, breathing heavily, his body slick with sweat and paint, looked at Eko, seeking approval, seeking his future as a man of the tribe. But what followed was not what he had anticipated. Eko, under Ayana’s watchful eyes, declared that Korin would not become a warrior but would instead serve as Ayana’s male wife.

Korin’s heart sank with a heaviness that seemed to weigh down his very soul; all his dreams of becoming a warrior, of standing tall among the men of the Kaldor tribe, were shattered into countless fragments of despair. His protests, strong and filled with the fire of youth, were met with a silence that was more deafening than any battle cry, as if the forest itself had turned its back on him. His voice, which had once echoed with the confidence of one who would claim his place by merit, now fell on ears that were either indifferent or all too eager to see his path altered.

The strength he had poured into his training, the sweat and blood he had shed, it all seemed to have been for naught. His fate, which he had always believed would be sealed by his own prowess and determination, was instead dictated by Eko and Ayana. The path he had envisioned, paved with the glory of battle and the honor of being called a warrior, was now a distant, unreachable mirage, replaced by a journey where his role was not defined by his sword. His protests, his pleas for understanding, his cries for the life he had worked towards, were swallowed by the nigh.

Ayana stepped forward, her presence overwhelming. “Don’t cry, Korin, you will serve as my wife,” she declared, her voice echoing through the night. “And part of serving me means submitting to Eko in ways that will bind you to us both.”

The tribe watched, some with curiosity, others with an understanding of the old ways, as Eko took Korin aside. In the dim light, away from the prying eyes but under the approving gaze of Ayana, Eko began to claim what he had long desired. He stripped Korin of his ceremonial garb, revealing his young, muscular body to the night.

Eko’s touch was no longer that of a mentor but of a lover, his hands exploring Korin’s body with a hunger that had been kept at bay for too long. He whispered gentle commands as he positioned Korin on his knees. “You will learn pleasure,” Eko murmured, guiding Korin’s head towards his now hard cock.

Korin, with a mix of despair and an awakening curiosity, complied. His mouth opened, taking in Eko, the act both a degradation and an initiation into this new role. Eko’s moans filled the air, a sound of conquest and pleasure, his hands gripping Korin’s hair, dictating the pace, the depth.

As Eko finished, Ayana’s voice cut through the night, resonant and commanding. “This is but the first of many,” she declared, her eyes scanning the gathered warriors who watched with a mixture of curiosity and desire. One by one, she beckoned them forward, each step they took towards Korin showing the tribe’s ancient customs and her authority.

Korin, still on his knees, his body trembling, felt the weight of his new role as each warrior approached. Their presence was overwhelming, each one eager, their eyes glinting with the firelight as they awaited their turn. Ayana stood by, her gaze unwavering, ensuring that Korin understood this was part of his binding to her and the tribe. Some were gentle, their hands caressing his face, whispering words of encouragement or ancient blessings, while others were more forceful, their grips tight and nasty. Korin’s senses were flooded, the taste of their members, the scent, the sounds of each warrior merging into a blur of sensations that marked him, physically and spiritually, as belonging to Ayana, to the tribe.

But this was just the beginning. Ayana joined them, her approach silent as a shadow. She watched for a moment before taking control, her hands on Korin, guiding him back, bending him over. Her voice was firm, “You belong to me now, in every way.”

Eko entered Korin from behind, his thrusts deep, claiming him with a ferocity that was both punishing and possessive. Korin’s cries were a mix of pain and awakening to the life he had never imagined. Ayana stood before him, her presence a reminder of his new status, her hands guiding his head to her own sex, demanding his service in this new union.

As Eko’s climax surged, his semen flooded into Korin, filling him, the warm fluid an overwhelming sensation. Korin’s anus, now raw and inflamed from the relentless penetration, throbbed with a pain that was both sharp and deep. The skin around it was red, stretched, and sensitive to the touch, each pulse of his heartbeat sending waves of discomfort through him.

Ayana, observing the scene with curiosity, knelt behind Korin. Her eyes, fierce and commanding, lingered on the sight before her. She leaned close, her breath warm against Korin’s skin, her hands parting his buttocks further. She began to eat the semen from Korin’s anus, her tongue lapping at the now tender entrance, soothing and claiming at once. Each stroke of her tongue was deliberate, cleaning and claiming him, marking him further as hers.

As dawn approached, Korin lay between them, his body marked by their hands, their pleasure, his mind struggling to reconcile this new reality. He was no longer the boy who dreamed of war and honor but a figure reshaped by the whims of those who now controlled his life. The night had not yet relinquished its hold when Ayana, driven by a primal urge, reached for an ancient wooden phallus, carved from the heart of a sacred tree, smooth and polished by countless years.

She positioned Korin, his body already exhausted and yielding, guiding him with a firmness that left no room for doubt. The wooden artifact, blessed by the forest’s spirits, was intended for such rites, symbolizing the power of the tribe. As she entered him, the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and an unknown pleasure, stretching him with each careful thrust, her movements both a punishment and a deep, claiming love. Korin, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and acceptance, felt the ancient wooden member press into his anus, an act that solidified his new place within the tribe’s hierarchy.

In the light of day, as the tribe dispersed, Korin understood that his journey had taken a path he never foresaw. His rite of passage was complete, but the man he hoped to become was lost.

(For Dan)

We were in the shower,
Before or after sex I can’t recall,
When he asked (out of the blue)
If he could piss on me.
Never one to pass up an opportunity
To try something new,
I laughed and said
“Sure”.
His cock was semi hard,
But then again it always was.

He turned off the water and took aim, 
Letting loose a volley of piss,
Hot, golden, thick and pungent,
Drenching my stomach and pubes and cock,
Running down my hairy legs,
Pooling at my feet,
A yellow lake.
He laughed, I laughed
As we watched his flow slowly subside,
The few last trickles 
Hanging thick from his foreskin lip
Mixed with precum,
A golden honey thread.

I enjoyed it.
So did he.
The next time we were together
He asked again,
Keen to empty the full tank
He’d been saving up
Just for me.

I surprised him
Naked in the shower,
Kneeling down 
Mouth open, 
Ready to drink.
His cock twitched at the idea
And his piss hit me in the face
Without warning,
A torrent,
A dam bursting,
Hot and yellow and sharp,
Covering my face,
Filling my mouth,
Warm and spicy on my tongue.

Pissing through his generous foreskin
His water splashed all about,
Hard to direct through
The folds of his skin.
Enough made it into my mouth though,
Filling my cheeks,
Running down my chin,
Forcing me to swallow.

He waved his cock about
Like a sprinkler,
Pissing in my hair,
My eyes,
My nose, 
My mouth,
Everywhere.

Then I started, 
Cock hard,
Over my stomach,
His legs,
The wall,
The floor,
All over.
Adrift in a sea of our 
Mingled water.

Still dribbling
He pushed his cock into my mouth,
Hard as a rock now
Leaking precum and urine
In a steady flow.
Suck suck suck
Slurp.
I can’t get enough 
As his hairy balls
Slap against my chin,
My mouth drooling saliva
Mixed with his juices.
If they could see me now!

He turns on the shower,
Cascading like a waterfall
Washing away
Our release.
His hands on my head
He forces me to keep
His cock in my mouth,
Thrusting in and out,
In and out,
So close
So close,
The frenulum cord
Taut,
Singing.

He cums fast,
Into the back of my throat,
Full and rich, 
Almost making me gag.
Almost.
I love his spunk,
White and creamy,
And lots of it.
His hips spasm as I
Probe his slit with my tongue,
Forcing out the last few
Drops.
I’ve drunk my fill
As he lets his dick
Slip from my lips,
The shower still
Cascading,
Never enough to wash it
All away.

Finally
He turns to leave
And farts in my face.
The indignity!