Author: admin

Final Chapter

The time has passed; it was only yesterday Walt and Dan were celebrating the birth of Ashley. Next thing you know, he’s going to a great high school. Despite everything he would not sugarcoat his family, his dad is Walt and his papa is Dan, who is a seahorse and gave birth to him. There’s so much to say since the last chapter.

Walt and Dan would get married a year after the proposal at Pride. By that time Ashley was 4 years old, he remembered things, so he was a big part of the wedding. The location was at the Palace Gardens, an old icon of their childhood, where the pair had first met as friends. Such a location was fitting for their union. Walt wore a well-tailored black suit that hugged his muscles perfectly, while Dan wore a stylish navy-blue suit with a hint of black. It was the perfect blend of sophisticated and fun, just like the couple themselves. 

The pair exchanged vows beneath a canopy of twinkling fairy lights. A warm breeze rustled the leaves of the trees as they declared their love for each other, and their commitment to building a life together. Ashley, standing at the front with them, smiled up at his dads, proud and excited to be a part of this special day.

When they kissed, their loved ones erupted into cheers and applause. The couple beamed at each other, feeling a sense of joy and love that was even deeper than before.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of laughter and celebration. There were heartfelt speeches, delicious food, and lively dancing.

Walt and Dan’s closest friends and family gathered around, raising a glass to the newlyweds, affirming their union, and celebrating the beautiful journey they had embarked upon together.

Ashley dragged his exhausted parents onto the dance floor, determined to show off his new moves. Walt laughed indulgently as he swung his son around, feeling gratitude for every moment they had shared so far and for every moment they had yet to come.

As the party slowed down and guests left, Walt and Dan slipped away for a few quiet moments together. They made their way to the balcony, each carrying a glass of champagne, and stepped out into the cool night air.

The city sprawled before them, a twinkling canvas of lights and movement. In the distance, their old High School, stood proudly against the skyline, its top bathed in shades of purple and pink as the sunset on the horizon.

Walt wrapped his arm around Dan’s shoulders as they gazed out over the city. “I love you,” he whispered. Dan closed his eyes, unable to keep them dry any longer. He leaned his head against Walt’s shoulder, savouring the warmth of his touch. “I love you too,” he said. “So much.”

Walt brushed a strand of hair out of Dan’s face, taking in the sight of him. He was more beautiful than ever before. His eyes sparkled with joy and love. Passionate kisses had swollen his lips. A new life within him made his body glow. “Let’s go,” Walt said, pulling Dan close. Dan smiled, feeling a sense of contentment and peace wash over him. He followed Walt back inside the hotel room with Ashley, where they settled onto the couch, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings to each other. 

Walt and Dan honeymooned in Paris with their son Ashley. During the day, they toured museums. At night, they danced at Le Caveau de la Huchette or strolled along the river, pretending to be Parisians. As they left on the train back to their home, Ashley asked, “Daddy, Papa, can you get married again?” “I wish to visit Paris next year.” Both men laughed. Dan explained, “Ash, we can return on any holiday; we don’t need a special occasion.” Their son understood as they travelled through the countryside by train.  

Post honeymoon, Walt and Dan adjusted well to their new roles as husbands. Ashley was a happy and curious child, and he brought joy and laughter to their home. They shared in the responsibilities of parenting. Walt and Dan’s careers as a successful lawyer and a clothing designer, respectively, continued to thrive as well. They hired Nina to assist with the tasks of childcare and household management, freeing up time for them to work and enjoy each other’s company. Ashley loved spending time with them and Nina became less of a nanny to him. By the time he was 10, she was Auntie Nina, and she taught him the piano and French. 

They always planned to have more children. With Ash’s permission, they added to their family via surrogacy when he was five. Dan decided to not go through with the pregnancy again. He had done it once, and that was enough, but thankfully his eggs from years ago were still as good as new and with Walt’s sperm and the help of Nina’s sister-in-law’s womb they waited like before. 

They had twin daughters, Drew and Riley. As they held the babies, all those feelings of holding baby Ashley came back, all those tears flowed, and their son came to greet his newborn sisters with homemade toys that their grandmothers had made.

As they entered the building with their son and new daughters, the doorman greeted them with warm smiles and nods. Proud of the happy family that had made his lobby feel more like a home, he gave the proud parents a simple blanket; it wasn’t much, but the feeling was there.

Walking into the apartment, the scent of fresh flowers from Nina’s wife’s shop and new beginnings lingered in the air, reminding them of the love that had brought them there. The new parents placed their twins in their nursery where a mixture of calming colours, followed by the joy of toys, new and old, were ready for them. Life was a rollercoaster, but the difficulties only made the couple stronger.

5 years later

As time went on, Walt and Dan’s family and relationship have remained strong. Walt’s firm has expanded, and he now has two lawyers working with him, helping to decrease the work so he could be with the family when needed, especially with school. Dan prioritised spending more time with the children, even while Walt remained at the firm.  The store’s success allowed the children to visit, where tailors created small outfits for them using fabric scraps during lunch.

Ashley got into an excellent school. Educators observed his innate aptitude for French, surpassing his native tongue. In kindergarten, he displayed a remarkable ability to learn piano by ear, entertaining his class with melodies. His parents subsequently bought a small piano, and Nina, a part-time pianist, helped teach him. Ashley’s future could go down many paths. He wants to work in museums or in the arts of some kind. His natural skills have presented opportunities. 

What of the twins, well their twin appearance has faded. Both girls show their different paths in life. Drew wants to be a judge in homage to Walt whom she shared his dark hair. Riley, with Dan’s blonde locks coming through, wants to be a designer. These things can change after all both their fathers had different paths as well at their age, Dan was going to be a dentist and Walt wanted to be a clown.

The family has become a special part in their city, when Pride came around, Walt made a speech about supporting trans people, “… seeing my children born of my seahorse husband’s eggs, I have finally seen a peace knowing where we live in the world, my husband Daniel found his group in this world, to become the funny, handsome man I see every morning, thankful that his rights aren’t threaten that if my children chose the same path or give up any gender that our country will respect their choice. But other countries trans people are suffering from fear mongers who will use them as the scapegoat for the next 50 years, treating them no different to the witch hunts of centuries past, so please for the sake of our future we need to stand together for if we push people out we are no different to others from history…”

The night that followed is simple, back at their apartment, the kids were in bed, memories of their parents speech the others that had came before and after, the fun they had watching the floats and colours whirling about in their heads, Walt and Dan were tired as well, they were in their bathroom, both had just a soak in the bath, as they dressed for bed, they talked about the day and how much the children loved it. 

After the bath, the husbands got to bed, their hands all over each other’s toned bodies for a little fun. Walt’s bigger muscular frame tried to dominate Dan but his own weight lifting helped take control of his husband winning the game which ended in their embrace. Afterwards, they both lay there for a few moments, enjoying the stillness and quiet, relishing in the simple joy of being together. “You know what I’ve been thinking about,” Dan said, breaking the silence. “What’s that?” Walt asked, rolling over to face him in the warm darkness. “About how lucky we are to have found each other again after all these years,” Dan replied, reaching out to take Walt’s hand in his own. “I mean, can you imagine if we had never reconnected at my store’s party?”

Walt shivered at the thought. “It’s hard to even think about,” he admitted. “We’ve been through so much together already. Building a family, facing the challenges of parenthood and our careers… all of it is so much better because we have each other.”Dan squeezed Walt’s hand as he whispered, “Exactly. We were together. And I couldn’t ask for a better partner to navigate this wild journey with.” Walt leaned in and kissed Dan, slowly and deeply, as if to convey just how much their words meant to him. As they pulled apart, Dan smiled, genuine and warm. “We’re truly blessed, aren’t we?” he said, the memories of earlier in the day still fresh in his mind.

The room fell silent as they stared deep into each other’s eyes. At that moment, the memory of their youthful friendship transported them. The love and connection between them had grown so profound that it transcended the physical boundaries of their shared bedroom. It was a love that defied time, circumstance, and the societal expectations that had kept them apart for so long. But it was a love that could finally flourish, with neither Walt nor Dan dwelling on the past, but simply embracing the joyous present. A chance meeting had resulted in a happy ending, Walt and Dan would happily agree.

The End

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Note from the Author:

I don’t normally write an final speech, but I guess I feel I needed to. This story has been stressful, as I feared the reaction I would get from this story. I didn’t think I could finish it. So many migraines followed, but I finished. I feared that either the story would appear offensive to transgendered people or that it would get hate for being positive about trans people. I purposely made the city ambiguous as I hope this world I created one day could be true for other trans people. We are still a minority and if we push others out of the group; we have less to fight our suppressors. This fight isn’t over, not by a longshot but if we stay shoulder to shoulder, they can’t push us aside.

Your Always

Maxim Von Mayerling

This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!

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The Morning After, Revisited

Jase stood frozen to the spot, Harry’s words hanging in the air between them like a physical presence, a weight neither of them quite knew how to carry. His mind scrambled desperately for an appropriate response, something casual yet unrevealing, something that might diffuse the growing tension without acknowledging its existence. But his usually quick wit failed him completely, leaving him with nothing but a noncommittal shrug that felt woefully inadequate to the situation.

“Yeah, well… I don’t remember shit,” he muttered finally, infusing his voice with deliberate dismissiveness, as if the entire night—whatever it might have contained—was too inconsequential to remain in his memory. Perhaps if he acted as though nothing significant had happened, Harry would follow his lead, and they could both pretend that whatever transpired during those missing hours had never occurred at all.

But then, he glanced down.

Harry’s t-shirt was still clutched in his hand, the fabric stretched beyond recovery from containing Harry’s extraordinary development. The cotton had molded itself to the contours of his massive chest so completely that it retained the imprint even when empty, like a fossil preserving the shape of something magnificent.

Before Jase could react to this damning evidence of his unconscious fixation, Harry moved with the fluid grace that always seemed incongruous with his substantial size.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, rich and inviting, as Harry crossed the room. His thighs, each one developed to proportions that would make professional rugby players question their training regimens, created an unavoidable friction against each other with each step. The sound of skin against skin provided a subtle percussion to his movement, a reminder of the sheer mass that prevented his legs from ever achieving a parallel position. His ridiculously tight turquoise boxer briefs, the only clothing he currently wore, seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the laws of physics as they struggled to contain his lower body. The fabric strained most dramatically across his glutes, which protruded from his frame with such extraordinary development that they created their own gravitational field, demanding attention regardless of one’s usual preferences.

Harry squeezed past Jase in the limited space, his body radiating heat like a furnace, solid and unyielding as a marble sculpture brought improbably to life. The proximity was overwhelming, an assault on multiple senses simultaneously—the warmth of his skin, the subtle scent of sleep and lingering cologne, the visual impact of so much perfectly developed muscle moving in coordinated harmony.

As he passed, he plucked the t-shirt from Jase’s unresisting hand in one smooth motion, his fingers brushing against Jase’s with casual intimacy. He leaned in close, close enough that his breath ghosted warm against Jase’s ear as he whispered:

“Thanks for looking after this.”

The words were simple, innocent on the surface, but something in Harry’s tone—a hint of amusement, perhaps, or something deeper and less easily defined—sent an involuntary shiver racing down Jase’s spine. He pulled away before Jase could regain his composure, moving toward the sofa with the unhurried confidence of someone entirely comfortable in their own skin, regardless of their state of undress.

He dropped onto the couch with casual grace, his massive frame causing the furniture to creak in protest. His glutes settled into the dent he had left behind earlier, filling it so perfectly that it seemed to have been custom-formed for his specific anatomy, like a throne designed exclusively for his use. The cushions compressed beneath his weight, adjusting to accommodate his substantial mass as though they had no choice but to yield to his physical authority.

Still gripping his coffee mug like a lifeline, Harry gestured lazily for Jase to join him, seemingly unconcerned about the tension crackling in the air between them.

“You still look pissed,” he observed, amusement coloring his voice as he took in Jase’s disheveled appearance and obvious discomfort.

Jase hesitated, still trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night, to construct some coherent narrative from the shattered remains of his memory. Then, reluctantly, he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the sofa beside Harry’s massive bulk, maintaining a carefully calculated distance that he hoped appeared casual rather than deliberate.

Piecing Together the Night

Jase exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to massage away the pounding headache that had taken up residence behind his eyes. “Alright… let’s try this,” he began, resignation evident in his tone. “What the hell do you remember?”

Harry stretched out his colossal frame, his movements languid and unhurried, claiming more of the sofa’s limited real estate with casual entitlement. He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee before responding. “Bits,” he admitted with characteristic nonchalance. “Mostly the bar. You getting absolutely wrecked. Me being admired by various onlookers. Standard Thursday, really.” His description was delivered with the easy confidence of someone who assumed such attention was the natural order of things rather than a noteworthy exception.

Jase scoffed, though the sound held more nervousness than genuine derision. “Alright, dickhead. And after that?” he pressed, trying to fill in the crucial gaps in his timeline.

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly, genuine concentration briefly replacing his usual mask of casual indifference. “I remember the cab,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “You said something about ‘worship.’ Then I woke up here.” The statement was delivered matter-of-factly, without innuendo or suggestion, yet the word ‘worship’ hung in the air between them, loaded with implications that neither seemed prepared to address directly.

Jase felt his stomach tighten with apprehension. He could tell Harry wasn’t lying—there was none of the subtle tells he’d learned to recognize after years of friendship. At least, not entirely lying. There was something in Harry’s careful phrasing, in the deliberate vagueness of “bits,” that suggested selective disclosure rather than complete honesty. But Jase wasn’t in a position to push for greater transparency, not when his own recollection was a void of nothingness where crucial memories should have been.

He forced himself to relax, exhaling slowly as he picked up his phone from the coffee table with deliberate casualness.

Time for the dreaded post-night-out tradition that had become a staple of modern socializing—scrolling through the photographic evidence to assess exactly what kind of embarrassing situations they had documented for posterity, what moments of temporary insanity had been preserved in digital amber for future mortification.

Harry was already swiping through his own camera roll, his thumb moving lazily over the screen with the unhurried confidence of someone who had nothing to fear from their documented behavior.

A moment later, he barked out a laugh, the sound genuinely amused rather than forced. “Oh, mate. Look at this,” he said, turning the screen toward Jase.

Jase leaned in reluctantly, bracing himself for whatever humiliation awaited.

The photo showed him mid-dance, swaying with unsteady abandon alongside a complete stranger whose face reflected a mixture of amusement and mild concern. Jase’s expression was one of utter inebriation, his eyes slightly unfocused, his grin too wide to be entirely sober. The stranger had one steadying hand on his shoulder, seemingly trying to prevent him from toppling over while maintaining a polite distance otherwise.

Jase groaned, the memory of this particular moment still frustratingly absent despite the photographic evidence of its occurrence. “Who the fuck is that?” he asked, squinting at the unfamiliar face beside his own drunken visage.

Harry grinned, clearly enjoying Jase’s discomfort more than was strictly necessary. “No idea,” he admitted cheerfully. “But lucky them—getting a dance with the great Jase the Jock.” The teasing nickname from their university days emerged with familiar affection, a reference to a time when Jase’s confident persona had earned him both admiration and gentle mockery from his peers.

Jase shook his head, laughing despite himself, relief flooding his system at the relatively innocent nature of the documented misbehavior. “Damn right they were lucky,” he agreed, falling into their usual pattern of banter with grateful ease. Perhaps the night had been nothing more than typical drunken adventures after all, with no relationship-altering revelations or boundary-crossing activities.

They flicked through more photos from the bar, each one showing typical scenes from their night out—Harry flexing for an appreciative audience, several selfies that looked more like professional modeling shots than casual documentation, group pictures with strangers who had clearly been drawn into their orbit through the gravitational pull of Harry’s physical presence. Nothing incriminating, nothing that explained the strange tension humming between them this morning.

Nothing about what happened after they left the bar.

The evidence trail ended precisely where Jase’s memory did, offering no illumination of the critical hours that followed.

With growing frustration, Jase reached for his own phone, hoping his personal documentation might provide the missing pieces of the puzzle. The device, however, was inconveniently positioned on the far side of Harry’s immovable form, requiring intervention to retrieve.

With no choice but to navigate through Harry’s personal space, Jase steeled himself and stretched across, his palm pressing against the unyielding mass of Harry’s thigh for balance as he leaned over. His fingers sank slightly into the dense muscle, the sensation both foreign and disturbingly familiar, as though his body remembered interactions his mind could not access. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through his system, a physical response he chose to attribute to his hangover-heightened sensitivity rather than examine more closely.

Phone finally in hand, he sat back with perhaps more haste than the situation strictly required, clearing his throat to cover the momentary awkwardness. Harry, as usual, appeared entirely unbothered by the physical contact, his expression betraying no awareness of Jase’s internal turmoil.

Jase flicked through his own photos with mounting anticipation, hoping for—yet simultaneously dreading—evidence that might explain the strange undercurrents flowing beneath their usual camaraderie this morning.

More bar pictures. More Harry posing with the unselfconscious confidence of someone who knew exactly how good they looked. More documentation of increasingly inebriated revelry as the night progressed.

One image in particular caught his attention—Harry bent over a barstool in what appeared to be a deliberately provocative pose, his posterior so outrageously developed that it threatened to split the seams of his jeans at any moment. The denim strained across his glutes like it was holding back a force of nature, the waistband of his turquoise boxers peeking out above the belt line in a flash of color that seemed designed to draw the eye. His face was turned toward the camera, grinning with the satisfied expression of someone who knew exactly what effect they were creating and enjoyed every second of it.

Jase stared at the image longer than strictly necessary, a complex mixture of emotions stirring in his chest. Harry’s shameless enjoyment of being observed, of being admired, of being desired, had always fascinated him—the freedom with which he inhabited his extraordinary physique, the casual acceptance of attention as his natural birthright.

Harry glanced over at the screen, seemingly unimpressed by this documentation of his exhibitionism. “That’s a good one,” he commented with casual assessment. “Might use it for a thirst trap later.” The statement contained no irony or self-consciousness, just the practical consideration of someone evaluating content for its social media potential.

Jase snorted, shaking his head at Harry’s matter-of-fact narcissism. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, though the words contained more fondness than genuine exasperation.

Still, there was nothing beyond the bar in his photo roll either. Their digital breadcrumb trail ended at precisely the point where his memory failed, offering no guidance for navigating the unmapped territory that followed.

Their search had hit a frustrating dead end, leaving them still adrift in a sea of uncertainty about the night’s conclusion.

Social Media — The Smoking Gun

With no other avenues of investigation immediately available, they turned to the broader digital landscape, checking various social media platforms for any evidence of their activities that might have been documented by others or posted in a state of diminished judgment.

Harry scrolled through his Instagram feed with practiced efficiency, his thumb moving across the screen in the automatic pattern of someone who had performed this action countless times before. The content passed by in a predictable parade—gym advertisements featuring impossibly sculpted models, fitness influencers sharing their latest workout routines, and an endless stream of posts dedicated to massive pectoral development, absurdly enhanced glutes, and men flexing in designer underwear that cost more than most people’s entire wardrobe. The algorithm had clearly identified his preferences with unsettling accuracy, serving him an unrelenting stream of content that mirrored his own physical aesthetic.

Jase, meanwhile, quickly lost interest in this repetitive visual feast and ended up watching short video reels about artisanal chocolate sculpting, his attention diverted to content that required less emotional investment given his fragile mental state.

Then—Harry’s thumb paused mid-scroll, his body language shifting subtly as something caught his attention.

His gaze sharpened with sudden focus, the casual indifference of routine social media consumption replaced by genuine interest. A photo had appeared in his feed—a close-up shot of a chest so massive, so perfectly developed, that it seemed almost unreal in its proportions. The pectoral muscles captured in the image protruded from the torso like continental shelves, creating deep shadows beneath their substantial overhang. The skin gleamed with an unmistakable sheen that enhanced definition, highlighting every striation and fiber of the underlying muscle.

Harry frowned slightly, his gaze dropping to his own chest—his mountainous pecs creating an impressive landscape beneath his thin shirt—and back to the screen with dawning recognition in his eyes.

The same unmistakable shape. The same distinctive development. The same oil-slicked sheen capturing the light in identical patterns.

His eyes flicked to the account information of the post’s originator, confirmation of what he already suspected.

Jase.

The accompanying caption stood out in stark contrast to Jase’s usually articulate posting style:

“Fucking look att these puppy’s! I’m 1 lucky boy tonight!”

Harry’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. The expression contained no shock, no offense, no discomfort—just the satisfied recognition of someone whose suspicions had been confirmed rather than contradicted. This was an opportunity served directly into his hands, a perfect opening he couldn’t have manufactured more effectively if he’d tried.

With calculated casualness, he turned his phone screen toward Jase, his voice deceptively neutral as he asked: “Does this jog any memories for you, you ‘lucky boy’?”

The Floodgates Open

Jase looked at the phone with reluctant trepidation, already anticipating something incriminating before his eyes even focused on the screen.

The moment he registered the image, his pupils dilated visibly, his body language shifting from cautious defense to unmistakable recognition. Like a dam breaking under too much pressure, the memories came rushing back in a torrent of vivid detail, flooding his consciousness with scenes his alcohol-soaked brain had temporarily misplaced rather than permanently erased.

Harry. Performing an impromptu strip show in his living room, peeling off his shirt with the practiced movements of someone accustomed to displaying their physique for an appreciative audience.

Jase. Applying massage oil to Harry’s torso with dedicated attention, his hands exploring every ridge and valley of the extraordinary musculature beneath them, lingering over the massive pectoral development with particular appreciation.

Harry. Posing from different angles, flexing various muscle groups in sequence, allowing Jase to touch, to feel, to squeeze with increasing boldness.

Jase. Growing flustered, his own inhibitions dissolved by alcohol and desire, stripping off his own clothes until he matched Harry’s state of undress.

Harry. Saying goodnight with casual affection, kissing Jase chastely on the cheek before heading toward the bedroom, seemingly unaffected by the charged atmosphere between them.

Jase. Following Harry’s massive form like a man entranced, unable to tear his gaze away from the hypnotic movement of those impossibly developed glutes as they led him toward the bedroom.

Harry. Collapsing face-first onto the mattress, passing out almost immediately with the sudden unconsciousness of the thoroughly intoxicated.

Jase. Lying beside him, fighting his own exhaustion, his hands moving with cautious reverence over Harry’s magnificent glutes, marveling at their perfect roundness, their extraordinary density.

Then—darkness. Sleep claiming him mid-exploration, his last conscious memory the feeling of warm, solid muscle beneath his palm.

Jase’s entire body tensed as these recollections cascaded through his mind, each more potentially mortifying than the last. His heart raced with the fear of exposure, of judgment, of the possible destruction of a friendship he valued above almost all others.

But he had to play it cool. Had to maintain the fiction of continued amnesia rather than admit to actions he couldn’t justify or explain even to himself.

He forced out a laugh, the sound hollow and unconvincing even to his own ears, shaking his head with feigned confusion. “Nope. Still nothing. Sorry, mate,” he lied, the falsehood transparent in his delivery despite his best efforts.

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by this performance. “Right. Sure,” he replied, his tone making it abundantly clear he didn’t believe a word of it.

Then, grinning with the confidence of someone holding all the cards, he leaned back into the sofa cushions and added, “Hope you enjoyed the ‘worship.’”

The word hit Jase like a physical blow, reverberating through his system with uncomfortable recognition. It was the exact term he had used the previous night, thrown back at him now with deliberate precision. Harry remembered. Harry knew. Harry had been conscious and aware during moments Jase had assumed were safely hidden behind the veil of mutual intoxication.

Jase knew he should brush it off, should maintain his denial, should retreat to safer conversational ground. But something in him rebelled against continued pretense. Maybe it was the hangover stripping away his usual filters, maybe it was the futility of denying what was increasingly obvious, or maybe it was simple exhaustion with the effort of maintaining boundaries that had been crumbling for longer than he cared to admit.

Whatever the reason, he found himself smirking with unexpected boldness, throwing caution to the winds of impulse.

“Mate, I absolutely did,” he admitted, his voice carrying a challenging undertone that surprised even himself. “You ever need another rubdown, you know where to find me.” The offer hung between them, outrageous in its directness, impossible to misinterpret or dismiss as merely jesting.

Harry’s smile faltered, something complex and unreadable flickering across his expression. His gaze darkened, pupils expanding slightly as he processed this unexpected response.

“No one calls me a ‘good boy,’” he murmured, the statement emerging with a curious mixture of challenge and uncertainty.

Then, without warning, Jase leaned in—and grabbed one of Harry’s thick, sensitive nipples between his fingers, giving it a firm squeeze.

Harry’s entire body jerked in response, his back arching slightly, a bolt of electricity visibly surging through his substantial frame. The reaction wasn’t just physical—there was something deeper, more significant in his expression. A realization. An awakening. A discovery of something that had perhaps always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

He loved this.

Not just the attention, not just the admiration, not just the envy of others.

The control.

Jase was taking control.

And Harry didn’t want it to stop.

This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!

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The Morning Mystery

Jase was still swaying, his balance uncertain as his mind scrambled to assemble the missing pieces of last night like a jigsaw puzzle with half its pieces missing. The room tilted slightly with each movement, his hangover manifesting not just as the merciless pounding in his skull but as a physical destabilization that made even standing an exercise in concentration. His stomach twisted with the particular nausea that comes from mixing too many types of alcohol, but beneath that familiar discomfort lurked something else—a gnawing feeling that something significant had slipped through the cracks of his memory, something crucial he couldn’t afford to have forgotten.

He needed coffee. Perhaps caffeine might kickstart his brain into recovering whatever events had transpired between leaving the bar and waking up here, in a bed that wasn’t his own, with only fragments of recollection to guide him.

Stumbling with the cautious movements of someone navigating an unfamiliar space in the dark, he made his way into the hallway, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through half-closed blinds. The space was becoming increasingly familiar as his brain processed his surroundings, recognition dawning as he entered the open-plan kitchen and living area.

Harry’s flat.

The realization settled over him like a heavy blanket, bringing with it a complex mixture of relief and heightened anxiety. He’d been here before, of course—for pre-drinks before nights out, for lazy Sunday afternoon football watching, for post-gym protein shakes when Harry’s place was closer than his own. He knew exactly where the coffee machine sat on the counter, knew which cabinet held the mugs, knew Harry’s preference for absurdly strong coffee that could practically dissolve a spoon.

He shuffled across the wooden floor, his bare feet quieter than he’d intended, and flipped the switch on the coffee machine. It whirred to life with mechanical enthusiasm, the heating element beginning its work while Jase leaned heavily against the counter, his fingertips drumming an irregular rhythm on the marble surface as he tried to coax his brain into cooperation.

Last night was a blur of disconnected images and sensations. The Velvet Stag. Multi-colored drinks appearing with increasing frequency. The familiar rhythm of banter between him and Harry, perhaps more charged than usual. The taxi ride. A creeping sense of… something he couldn’t quite name.

The coffee machine beeped its readiness, and Jase poured himself a mug of the dark liquid, taking it straight black. He needed the caffeine to hit his system with maximum efficiency, no cream or sugar to delay its impact. Taking his liquid salvation in hand, he wandered into the living space, rounding the sofa with the intention of sinking into its comfortable embrace.

Then he paused, the mug halfway to his lips, as his gaze locked onto something both ordinary and somehow deeply significant.

Right in front of him, sunk deep into the cushion, was the dent.

A perfect, undeniable imprint where Harry’s impossibly developed glutes had been.

Jase stared at it, his pulse quickening as his eyes traced the distinctive depression in the fabric. It was comically large compared to what an average person might leave behind, deeper than a normal seat imprint, like someone had forced two medicine balls into the cushion and let them settle. A nervous chuckle escaped his throat before he could contain it, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the quiet flat. Jesus Christ.

Without conscious intention, his free hand drifted downward, fingertips tracing over the depression in the cushion. The fabric retained a hint of warmth, suggesting Harry had been there not long ago. Jase found himself imagining the scene—Harry’s massive frame spread across the sofa, those absurdly developed legs splayed wide in the casual entitlement of someone who required extra space as a matter of course, thick arms stretched across the backrest, taking up territory like physical space was something he owned rather than merely occupied.

Then, from the corner of his eye, something else caught his attention.

A pile of clothes on the floor.

Not just any clothes—last night’s clothes.

His stomach twisted again, this time from an emotion far more complex than simple hangover nausea. Harry’s tight black T-shirt lay discarded on the hardwood, the fabric still stretched beyond recovery from containing his extraordinary development. Next to it, his jeans were crumpled in a careless heap, the belt still threaded through the loops but unbuckled, the leather strap curling around the denim like a sleeping snake. Right beside them—unmistakably, undeniably—lay Jase’s own clothing from the previous evening.

His breathing grew shallow, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead that had nothing to do with alcohol withdrawal.

He looked down at himself, taking inventory for the first time since waking. He was clad only in his underwear, the rest of his outfit apparently joining Harry’s in the communal discard pile on the floor.

Kneeling beside this damning evidence, he reached for Harry’s T-shirt with a hand that wasn’t entirely steady. The cotton fabric was stretched beyond normal parameters, molded permanently to the extraordinary contours it had contained for hours. The material carried the unmistakable impression of two massive pectoral mounds, the fabric distended where it had struggled to contain the sheer volume of Harry’s chest. As Jase’s fingers brushed over it, he could feel the lingering imprint of last night’s movements, the memory of physical exertion preserved in cotton and elastane.

Almost without realizing what he was doing, his fingers curled into the material, gathering it in his palm. He lifted the shirt closer to his face, drawn by some impulse he couldn’t name and didn’t want to examine too closely. He inhaled deeply, the mixture of scents hitting his brain with unexpected force—Harry’s expensive aftershave lingering beneath notes of beer, sweat, and something else, something he couldn’t immediately identify but which sent a strange, hazy fog through his still-drunken mind.

For a moment, just one moment of weakness, he allowed himself to get lost in it.

The scent. The size. The evidence that this shirt had been molded around Harry’s godlike chest, his massive pecs stretching the seams until they threatened to give way, sweat pooling in the deep central crevice between them after hours of wear.

Then—a sound.

A steady, gentle pouring noise.

The coffee machine.

His head snapped up, heart slamming against his ribs with sudden alarm.

Wait. The machine wasn’t automatic. It couldn’t start brewing without someone pressing the button. He had only heated the water, not initiated the actual brewing process.

Then who had?

Slowly, still gripping Harry’s shirt with unexpected possessiveness, he turned around, dread and anticipation battling for dominance in his chest.

And his breath caught in his throat.

Across the room, standing with his back to Jase, was Harry.

And Harry’s ass.

It wasn’t an illusion created by last night’s alcohol. It wasn’t some exaggeration born of drunken appreciation. It was there—two gigantic, perfectly round globes of muscle, squeezed into a pair of turquoise boxer briefs that seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the laws of physics. The fabric strained so desperately it might as well have been painted on, the seams visibly under duress from containing such extraordinary development. Each glute was larger than a volleyball, the separation between them creating a deep valley that the thin fabric had no choice but to follow, disappearing slightly into the crevice it couldn’t bridge.

The shape was beyond anything that could be considered ordinary human development—obscene in its proportions, projecting outward from Harry’s frame with such dramatic volume that it altered his entire silhouette. Sitting would require spatial consideration most people never had to contemplate; pants had to be specially tailored to accommodate dimensions that standard sizing charts never anticipated.

Jase’s vision blurred momentarily as his brain struggled to process what his eyes were registering. His body temperature seemed to rise several degrees at once, a flush creeping up his neck toward his face.

His gaze traveled upward, over the expanse of Harry’s broad back with its perfectly defined musculature, until he realized Harry was looking directly at him over one massive shoulder.

Grinning.

Jase froze, suddenly acutely aware of his compromising position.

He still had the T-shirt pressed near his face like some lovesick teenager with a stolen memento.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his grin widening slightly, though Jase couldn’t determine if the expression contained amusement, judgment, or the prelude to outright mockery.

Then, in a voice as casual as if discussing breakfast options, Harry spoke.

“Good morning, babe. I see you found your way around the flat then. Could’ve made me a coffee before you started tidying up after last night.”

Jase swallowed, his throat suddenly desert-dry, his brain struggling to interpret the implications behind Harry’s words—particularly that unexpected ‘babe’ that he’d never used before outside their joking couple charade.

Harry’s grin lingered, a flash of perfect white teeth against his tanned skin. “We appear to have got a bit carried away, don’t we?”

Jase felt his legs start to go wobbly, forcing him to steady himself against the sofa to remain upright. The physical reaction had nothing to do with his lingering intoxication and everything to do with the sudden, overwhelming comprehension of his predicament.

It wasn’t the alcohol.

It wasn’t the hangover.

It was the absolute, all-consuming, terrifying need to know what the fuck happened last night.

We met through a hookup website roughly 20 years ago. His profile included his stats but no picture: 38, 5’8”, 165, 7” cut. He claimed to be well-known locally and didn’t want people to know his business, so if I wanted to hookup with him, I would need to wear a blindfold the whole time. My apartment should be dark. Door unlocked. I was to give him directions through the apartment to my bedroom where I would be waiting, freshly showered, prepared, and naked on all fours on the bed. Lube and condoms were to be waiting for him by my right ankle. He had a specific brand of each, so when I agreed, I had to acknowledge that I did not have them on hand but would get them. After a few excruciating minutes, he messaged back to get ready. He would bring his own supplies tonight.  

I got ready quickly. He estimated it would take 20 minutes to reach my apartment, so I set a timer and got to work. After 15 minutes, the timer sounded, and I unlocked the door and turned off the lights. I closed all the blinds tightly. I made my way into my guest bedroom, so I could watch through the gap in the blinds for a car to arrive. 

Almost immediately, a car turned onto my street. When it reached my building, it turned left and drove toward the next building. As it passed under a street light, I recognized it as one of my neighbors. They parked and went inside. A few minutes passed. I looked at my watch. It had been more than 20 minutes now. Was he standing me up? 

Another pair of headlights came toward my building, but they belonged to a pickup that parked at the building before mine. 

Several more minutes passed. He was now 15 minutes late. I sighed and then noticed someone on foot approaching the sidewalk for my building. He wore bulky clothes and a hat, so I couldn’t see his face. He turned and began walking down the walk toward my side of the building. This guy did not look like anyone I had seen in or around my building. 

I hurried out of the guest room and into my bedroom. I tossed my robe across a chair and jumped onto the bed. As I wrapped the blindfold around my head, I heard my front door open. I heard it close and lock. I dropped to fours and froze. I listened. 

His footfalls crossed the living room slowly. I was sure his eyes needed to adjust to the dark. I heard his hands sliding along the wall of the hallway and then find the door frame for my room. He walked in, and I heard him draw in a breath before speaking, “hey boy.” 

He rimmed my ass briefly and then fucked me. He took his time, varied his rhythm and force, and moved me off of and then back onto the bed. At one point, he pinned me under his body to the floor while he rocked his hips to slide his cock back and forth inside me. His hot breath was on my ear. The warmth on my skin enticed me. The breath in my ear sent chills over me. The smell of cigarettes on his breath repelled me, or more accurately, made me wish that he didn’t smoke but the way his cock used my ass, I didn’t really mind. 

Before he left, he tossed the condom into the trash. He reminded me to pick up his brand of condoms and lube, so he could come back regularly. He also asked my phone number, and as I said it, he added it to his phone. He texted me. “Add me. When I text, get ready.” Then, he left. 

I didn’t hear from him for a while. Then, one night, he texted. I was ready when he arrived. I heard him enter, but I noticed that my door was open longer than usual. I heard him enter, and then, I heard a few more pairs of footfalls. Quietly, to myself, I counted three more people after him. They took up positions around the bed. He wasted no time. I felt him climb onto the bed. I heard a condom wrapper rip open, and I felt lube drizzle down onto my eager hole. He mounted me. After a couple of thrusts, he leaned onto my back and pushed me to the mattress. “I brought some friends to fuck you too.” 

He fucked me as he had the first time. This time, I could tell he was showing off for his friends, and I did not object. The way his cock made my ass feel was seductive. I did anything he ordered. Ass up. Ass down. On all fours. Stand by the bed. Bend over. On the floor. Back on the bed. When he was close, he told me that he was going to cum, and then one of his friends would mount me. 

His friend didn’t waste any time. As soon as my fuckbuddy slid off the bed, I felt the weight of a lighter man behind me. I heard another condom wrapper open and more lube squishing onto it. Then, I felt a cock sliding into my hole. While this guy did not weigh as much as my fuckbuddy, he wielded a longer dick. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms under my shoulders and then raised both of us up. Then, he turned his head and spoke away from me, “You’re right, man. This is a sweet ass! Thanks for sharing it with me.” 

He thrust a few more times and then dropped us to the mattress. The sudden falling sensation caused my ass to open more deeply. I felt his cock push fully to the hilt. I gasped. “Yeah, boy. My cock is balls deep now. Won’t last much longer…” 

He was right. He fucked vigorously for about a minute and then drove hard and held as his body convulsed in orgasm. When his balls were drained, he blurted out, “whoa! That was hot, man.”

I heard my buddy whisper, “next.” 

I felt a heavier man kneel behind me on the mattress. As he did, my buddy walked to the side of the bed and leaned to me. I heard his voice low, “this guy here has a big dick. Thicker than anyone I know. If you need to stop, just say so.” 

I answered, “yes Sir.”

His friend wrapped and lubed and then slowly began to push inside me. 

Buddy patted my head, “The other two of us went first to loosen you up for him. He hopes you can take him.”

“Aye Sir. I will.” 

His cock was thicker than the guy before him. I breathed through the stretching and squirmed more than for the other two. Squirming helps loosen and open the hole. With strong hands and a wide grip, he grabbed my hips and spoke commandingly, “Stop. Let me.” 

“Aye Sir!” 

He worked his cock in the hole as I breathed, gasped, groaned, grunted, and growled until he was balls deep. He leaned forward onto my back. His chest was muscular and hairy, and I could feel the hair grinding on my back. Soon, he found a rhythm. My grunts and growls turned into moans and groans for more. 

“Please fuck me, Sir. Drive that big thick cock into my ass.”

He did. He fucked me with abandon. “He CAN take it!” 

Buddy answered, “Told you.”

I added, “Yes sir, I CAN, so don’t hold back. Give it to me, Sir!”

He drilled into me with ferocity. I kept up. I heard my buddy mutter quietly, “Jesus!” 

I heard the fourth man speak for the first time, “Damn!” 

Then I heard the man fucking me, “TAKE IT!” 

His hand grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into the pillow. His full weight crashed into me, and he shoved his cock deep and let it pulse as he shook. After a moment, I felt him relax and then dismount. I raised my face for air. 

My buddy checked on me and thanked me for serving him again tonight. He reminded me to remain blindfolded until five minutes after they left. I obeyed. 

When I removed the blindfold, I found four condoms. Later, my buddy explained that the fourth man jacked while watching. He was a bottom for the man who fucked me second. 

A month or so later, I came home from work to find a note tucked into the frame of my front door. “Text me if you think you can take it again.” A phone number was listed. 

Alex grew more comfortable in his role, the nightshirts and George’s gentle touches becoming a natural part of their routine. They worked side by side, the older man’s eyes often lingering on the younger man’s body. On one such day when the sun was high and the air thick with heat, George paused his labours, feeling hot and bothered. “It’s too hot to wear much today,” George said, stripping down to his tighty whities “Why don’t you join me?”

Alex hesitated for a moment, then shrugged off his shirt, revealing the tanned skin and lean muscles of his torso. He unbuckled his belt and slid down his shorts, feeling a thrill of excitement and vulnerability. He stepped out of them, leaving himself in nothing but his favourite orange and white yfront briefs.

Their eyes met, and George’s smile grew wider. “Perfect and wow, what fantastic colour yfront briefs you are wearing. I love them,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

“Thanks” Alex replied in response to such a comment. “I have lots of different colours, all with white trim, unlike your dependable but boring tighty whities.”

George let out a chuckle in response. “Well, they might be dependably boring unlike your underwear but they’re comfortable so let’s get to work.”

They moved through the farm, their bodies glistening with sweat. The animals paid them no mind, accustomed to their semi-nakedness by now. The breeze caressed Alex’s skin, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat of George’s gaze. The older man never made a move beyond the occasional touch, a gentle squeeze of the shoulder or a pat on the back, but the desire was obvious.

One evening, as they sat on the porch watching the sunset, Alex was in his nightshirt having enjoyed an earlier shower to wash off the grime of the day’s efforts. George sat there relaxed in his dependable but boring tighty whities when George’s hand found its way to Alex’s leg. He began to stroke it gently, his thumb tracing the line of his inner thigh. Alex did not pull away; instead, he leaned into the touch, his eyes never leaving the horizon. “George, I know you said no more than touching,” Alex began, his voice barely a whisper. “But I want to know, what if I want more?” Alex eyed the bulge in the older man’s briefs, clearly displaying the outline of his erect cock.

George’s hand stilled, and he turned to face Alex. His expression was serious, but there was a spark in his eyes that had not been there before. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not just here to wear yfront briefs or nightshirts and to be your…,” Alex said, his voice gaining confidence but fading away when he could not complete what he wanted to say. “I want to know if there could be more between us.”

The silence was deafening, the crickets the only sound in the stillness. Then George leaned over, his rough lips brushing against Alex’s ear. “If you want more,” he murmured, “you’ll have to accept the unexpected but, I have to explain a couple of things that you might think weird before you get too excited.”

Alex’s heart raced; his curiosity piqued. He turned to face George, the older man’s eyes searched his, seeking reassurance. “Okay,” Alex said, his voice a bit shaky. “Tell me.”

“You see,” George began, his hand sliding down to rest on Alex’s thigh, “I’ve had these… particular feelings for a long time. I have never had the chance to share them with anyone. But I feel like I can with you.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I want to sort of adopt you as my son. You told me you were an orphan and had no parents to look after you and you craved that family closeness growing up. Since then, you have drifted from job to job, relationship to relationship and you also said, you feel like a rudderless ship sometimes. I can change all that if you wish to change. It just means you have to be open-minded to the eccentricities of a Daddy like me.”

Alex felt the heat of George’s hand through the fabric of his nightshirt, his body reacting in ways he had not expected. “I hadn’t expected that” Alex responded, his voice a low murmur.

Alex’s mind was in a spin with the change of dynamics that were taking place, and he remained speechless for the moment “It’s about trust and respect. Friendship and love mingled with hard work and discipline and when you feel like it, you might wish to call me Daddy or Dad. More than anything else, I want to share my life here with you.” George declared as Alex sat there taking it all in.

Alex’s breath hitched at the word, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. He had never engaged in anything like this before, but with George, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt natural, like a puzzle piece fitting into place. “It’s quite an offer George and you are not wrong about my drifting through life without a goal. I am processing a lot of information now; can I think about your offer?” his voice steady.

George fearing the worst that he had gone too far too quickly continued explaining what he wanted. George wanted Alex to be his young boy whom he could look after, and would Alex be open-minded and go with the flow and see if he liked it. Alex thought about it for a while as they resumed their silent enjoyment of sunset. It had been a while since anyone had offered Alex tender loving care and a huge part of him wanted to say yes but another part of him thought it weird and he wondered if George were the state axe murderer yet to be caught and sitting here provided him with his next victim.

What to do, what to do, Alex wondered until something clicked in his mind telling him, he might be a fool if he rejected the offer. After all, there would be no harm in trying out the new dynamic and if it became too weird, he could always run for cover back to the city.

The silence of the evening was broken, “Yep, I like the idea of calling you Dad but perhaps we can keep that on the farm if okay with you. I don’t think the locals will cope with this level of gossip all in one go”.

“Okay Alex, son, I accept your comment to keep it on the farm and I suggest we start the new approach tomorrow” said George whilst still playing with Alex’s thighs and gazing upon the concealed erection that had developed with George’s touch.

Alex stood up in front of George, his erection pressing against the cotton material of his nightshirt, silently imploring George to explore his body but George only rubbed his hands up and down Alex’s thighs whilst saying “Tomorrow Alex, tomorrow you will see how much I can look after you”.

The following day saw their relationship evolve. George woke Alex with a gentle kiss on the forehead, saying “Good morning, sleepy head.” It was early but Alex had been getting used to these early starts.

Alex managed to swing himself to the side of the bed and saw that George had prepared his clothes for the day. Not only had George selected his yfront briefs but also his other clothes. It was like being a young boy again and strangely, Alex loved the attention and care.

George then pulled the sheets back and pulled Alex gently out of bed, naked and erect with his morning wood and led Alex into the bathroom where George shaved Alex with meticulous precision, his hands firm and sure as he guided the straight razor over the younger man’s body. Alex felt a strange sense of peace as he watched the hair fall away, revealing the smoothness beneath. It was as if he were being reborn, transformed into the person George wanted him to be, a young boy. It felt strange with no body hair, but his skin was now smooth and sensitive to touch, a feeling not experienced since childhood as George showered him, washing the shaving cream and loose hair from his body. It was a fresh start with a fresh look and Alex liked it.

Standing naked, George wrapped him in a soft, warm towel and began the process of dressing him taking immense pleasure in selecting the clothes starting with the yfront briefs, black with white trim that day. The act of sliding the fabric over Alex’s body was almost religious, a silent vow of companionship and care. Before long, Alex was dressed and ready for the day ahead.

After breakfast, the rest of the day was filled with work on the farm, their bodies moving in a silent dance of understanding and respect. At the end of the day, it was time to adjourn to the house for an evening of tasty food and relaxation. Before that though, George told Alex that from that day he would be bathing him and frankly, Alex was happy to have someone spoil him, and George was a tender caring Dad.

Alex walked into the kitchen having kicked his muddy boots off outside on the porch. George had made a coffee and Alex stood waiting whilst George stirred the stew that had been made for dinner.

George looked at Alex with a pleasing smile dropped to his knees and started removing the socks that Alex had been wearing the entire day. Next, remaining on his knees looking at Alex standing before him, he pulled down the muddy shorts Alex was wearing. The yfronts did not survive long either as they too were discarded into the same pile of dirty laundry. Now naked and aroused, George led him to the bathroom.

The tub was filled with steaming water, scented with lavender and rosemary from the garden. George took care in washing Alex, his hands moving over every inch of his skin with a tenderness that spoke of deep care and affection. He took his time, scrubbing the grime of the day away, leaving Alex feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

After the relaxing soak, George dried him off allowing him to step out of the bathroom refreshed and clean as his nightshift was slipped over his head only to drop the full length of the material as George took his hand, “Come on son, dinner awaits us,” and led him downstairs.

“This will be our new routine son, and we will do this every day if you like. I like to bathe you and wash your hair and dry you, sounds weird I know but I hope you like it too?”

Alex enjoyed the attention provided by George. “It’s a little weird Dad I know, but I could get used to this attention and care you just provided. Did you say, every day from now on?”

George squeezed Alex’s hand in an assuring manner, “Yes son, every day and I have a feeling you will get used to it very quickly.”

The evening air grew colder, and the stars above were a glittering array of diamonds in the velvet sky. They retreated to the warmth of the house, the crackling of the log fire in the lounge beckoning them. Alex laid down on the sofa with his head on George’s lap gazing into the flames, the fabric of his nightshirt hugging his body, the fabric stark against his skin. He felt George’s hand on his head, playing with his hair as the older man’s fingers traced patterns on his scalp as he read a book enjoying the comfort of his son lying on his lap, relaxed and content. The heat from the fire kissed their skin, creating a cosy cocoon of warmth in the room.

Alex’s eyes grew heavy as George’s hand moved from his hair to stroke his cheek after putting down his book to concentrate on playing with Alex, His hands then moved down to his chest, the fabric of the nightshirt being thin, allowed George’s touch to be felt in every caress, occasionally pushing through the mesh to touch his skin. The older man’s touch was firm but gentle, a silent declaration of his desire to care for and protect his young companion. Alex’s heart thumped in his chest, the anticipation of the unknown making him both nervous and excited.

Alex looked up at George, his gaze filled with questions. The fire cast flickering shadows across the older man’s face, highlighting the lines of age and experience. George met his gaze, his eyes dark with unspoken intent. “Do you trust me, son?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of his nipple.

Alex nodded, his voice a whisper. “Yes Dad, I trust you.”

Their eyes locked, and George’s hand moved lower, his thumb hooking into the hem of the nightshirt. He pulled the fabric up slightly, revealing the smooth skin of Alex’s thighs. His hand lingered there, the warmth of his palm pressing against Alex’s flesh. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled the nightshirt up further, exposing the young man’s hardened cock as Alex changed position onto his back, inviting George to explore further.

He had never been so openly displayed before to a mature man, fully erect, aroused, and leaking precum like never before, but with George, it felt natural as if it were a part of the farm’s cycle of growth and exposure. This was different to the daily bath and the associated ritual of George washing and shaving him. Yes, Alex got erections every time George touched him but so far George had not done anything more than admire the erections as he dressed Alex covering his manhood with clean yfront briefs chosen by him each day.

George’s hand cupped Alex’s balls, his thumb brushing the base of his cock. His fingers travelled up the shaft until his finger started playing with the oozing liquid secreting from the tip of his cock, a sign that Alex was more than aroused. “This is what I want,” he murmured. “To cherish you, to watch you grow.”

Alex felt the warmth of George’s breath against his skin as the older man leaned down, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock licking the precum that was dribbling out of it. The warmth of the fire and the coolness of the night air created a delicious contrast as George continued to kiss and caress him, his touch crossing the line for the first time into something sexual. It was a dance of desire and care, a bonding that went deeper than the surface.

Alex lay there, his body a canvas for George’s attention. The feeling of the nightshirt against his arse was lovely but the freedom of his cock exposed at the front made an enormous difference with the warmth of the fire, and the weight of George’s hand on his cock created a symphony of sensations. He knew that this was just the beginning, that their relationship would continue to evolve and grow, but for now, he was content, nestled in the safety of George’s arms, his body open and vulnerable, ready to explore whatever the future held for them.

The tension between them grew with each passing moment, the air thick with unspoken words and yearning. Alex felt himself getting harder under George’s touch, his cock no longer straining against the fabric. He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “What happens now?” he whispered.

“Now,” George said with a smile, his eyes never leaving Alex’s, “you get to always call me Dad.”

Alex swallowed hard enjoying the moment. “Okay, Dad.”

George’s grip tightened slightly, his eyes darkening with pleasure. He leaned in, his breath hot against Alex’s ear. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “Now, let’s see what else we can do to keep you warm tonight.”

Alex felt a shiver run down his spine as George’s hand began to move again, stroking and squeezing in a rhythm that was both comforting and arousing. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a soft moan. The term “Daddy or Dad” was foreign to him in this context, but it did not feel wrong. It was as if a dam had broken, and the rush of new experiences washed over him, bringing with it a sense of belonging.

As the fire crackled, George’s hand slid up Alex’s body, his palm cupping the young man’s face. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his thumb tracing Alex’s bottom lip. “But I need to know, are you truly ready for what comes next?”

Alex nodded, his eyes searching George’s. “Yes, Dad,” he said, the word slipping out easily. “I trust you.”

With a gentle smile, George leaned in and kissed him, the kiss deepening as his hand moved to grip Alex’s cock firmly. The younger man moaned into the kiss, his body arching off the sofa as George pulled up the material until he was able to slip it finally over Alex’s head leaving him naked and available for his Daddy. Alex had been wanting this for quite a while and was not going to interrupt the moment by saying anything stupid like, let’s get a pizza or something.

George broke the kiss, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Good,” he said, his voice gruff. “Because it’s time for your first lesson.”

Alex’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as George began to stroke him in earnest. The older man’s hand was strong and sure, moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made Alex’s hips buck. He had never felt so vulnerable, so open to another person’s desires and care. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

The room grew warm, the air heavy with their shared breaths. George’s hand never stopped moving, his eyes locked on Alex’s face, watching every expression, every twitch of pleasure that played out across his features. It was as if he were tuning into Alex’s very soul, learning his every need and want.

As the tension grew, so did Alex’s arousal. He felt his orgasm building, his body tightening like a coiled spring. “Dad,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “I’m close.”

George nodded, his grip tightening slightly. “I know son, I can feel your excitement building,” he murmured. “Just let go for me and enjoy the moment.”

And with that, Alex did. He came with a cry, his body convulsing as George’s hand milked him through his climax. It was an explosion of pleasure, a release that left him trembling and panting, his eyes squeezed shut. He shot his cum with such power that the first spurt landed on his face followed by the remaining spurts landing between his chin and stomach. The final spurts of cum dribbled down his cock.

When he finally opened his eyes, George was looking at him with a mix of pride and affection. “Welcome home,” he whispered, pulling Alex into a tight embrace whilst using his fingers to play with his son’s seed. As Alex lay there in the older man’s arms, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the quiet of the night, he knew he had found a place where he truly belonged and felt the father, son thing might work for him after all.

George lifted Alex’s head and got up from the sofa. “It’s bedtime son and we have an early start tomorrow,” taking his son’s hand he pulled him up gently and led him upstairs to his bedroom. Pulling back the quilt he put Alex in bed and as Alex laid on his back, George kissed him good night whilst rubbing his hand gently on Alex’s chest still covered with his seed. “I guess we will have to wash that off in the morning” George said whilst covering Alex with the quilt and turning off the light.

Alex laid in bed feeling content and loved as he slowly drifted off to sleep, “Good night, Dad,” were the last words that George heard that day as he slipped out of his son’s room gently closing the door.

The next morning, George’s gentle nudging woke him up, the sun streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air as George called out, “Time to get up, my boy.”

Alex stretched out lazily, feeling the warmth of the bed against his naked skin. He made his way to the bathroom, where George was already waiting with a warm smile and the promise of a fresh start to their day. George took his time shaving Alex, his strokes sure and precise, as if he were sculpting the young man into something beautiful. Alex felt a sense of pride in being taken care of so thoroughly, the warmth of George’s hands and the gentle scent of the shaving cream a comforting embrace.

Breakfast was a feast of eggs, bacon, and homemade bread, served with a side of sweet butter and strawberry jam. The two of them sat at the kitchen table, their legs brushing underneath as they chatted about the day’s plans.

As Alex cleared the table, George could not help but admire the view. The shorts Alex was wearing were sagging down revealing the orange yfront briefs that hugged Alex’s round arse, leaving little to the imagination. With a smirk, George reached out and pulled Alex closer, bending him over the table next to him, pulled his shorts and underpants down a little and gave him a few playful but firm smacks on his bare bottom. The sound echoed in the quiet room, making Alex jump. He turned around, his cheeks red with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. “What was that for Dad?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Just a little reminder of who’s in charge around here and remember, naughty boys get smacked when required,” George said with a wink. “And to thank you for the view today, orange is a lovely colour that couldn’t be ignored but I’m not so sure my son should be wearing such city clothes, so I have decided that we are going shopping today.”  George had a mischievous glint in his eye when he continued. “You need some proper boy’s clothes for around here as Mrs Jenkins has reminded me a couple of times.”

“Yes Dad” Alex responded, not sure what George had in mind, but he felt excited about the changes taking place between them.

“As much as I like your yfront briefs and the colours you have available, country boys wear white tighty whities and matching vests. Likewise, you need some shorts and plain shirts that clearly state you are a farm boy.”

“Yes Dad, if you insist but please can I keep my nightshirts?”

“Sorry son, no. Country boys wear proper boys’ Pjs around the house,” George responded. “Besides, Mrs Jenkins would prefer you to wear Pjs, she’s funny and traditional like that and her traditional approach also includes correct underwear and not fancy city stuff as she termed them whilst hanging them outside to dry.”

“If you insist, okay Dad, I will do as you wish and if it keeps Mrs Jenkins happy, who am I to object,” Alex responded.

“Talking about Mrs Jenkins, I had a chat with her about the incident and she was quite assertive in her judgement of you and made some recommendations about the way you dress. She suggested a shopping trip to get proper clothing which should include suitable around-the-house attire…if you get her meaning the Pjs we discussed are her request and I shall talk to you later about her expectations in my closing the incident to her satisfaction.”

Slightly shocked, Alex kept quiet for the rest of the journey as they drove into town in George’s dusty old pickup truck, the wind whipping through his hair. The local store was small but well-stocked, and George led Alex straight to the menswear department.

He began tossing pairs of white tighty whities into the cart, the fabric so thin that Alex could almost feel the breeze against his skin just by looking at them. “These are going to be your new staple,” George said with a wink. Likewise, matching vests were landing in the shopping trolley with suitable shirts, shorts, and jeans along with sensible working shoes. Next, George selected suitable Pjs for Alex adorned with various childlike images and patterns. Alex was horrified until George reminded Alex that daddy knows best thereby ending the discussion.

The sales assistant blushed as George paid for their purchases, her eyes darting between the two men and the items in the cart. But George didn’t seem to care about the judgment; all that mattered was the warmth of Alex’s hand in his as they left the store.

Back at the farm, George’s eyes gleamed as he dressed Alex in the FOTL tighty whities, the fabric cupping his bottom and highlighting his package. The vest was then added and tucked into the tighty whities as country boys do and Alex felt strange wearing such clothes that he had not experienced since childhood. “Just right,” George murmured, his voice thick with desire as he finished off dressing Alex, ready for the remainder of the day.

And as the day unfolded, the farm’s rhythms became a backdrop to their burgeoning relationship. The animals and crops were not just chores anymore; they were a shared experience, a tapestry of moments that wove their lives closer together.

By late lunchtime, they were both sweaty and tired, but the sight of George’s flushed face and the way his overalls clung to his muscular body had Alex’s thoughts wandering to the night ahead. The farm had become a stage for their desires, a place where they could be free from the judgments of the outside world.

As they sat down to eat, George reached over and took Alex’s hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re doing great son,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “I’m so happy to have you here.”

Alex felt his heart swell with affection for the older man. “Me too Dad,” he murmured, his eyes meeting George’s. “This is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

As they enjoyed their simple meal, the spank from that morning lingering in the air, Alex knew that this was just the beginning of a life filled with love, growth, and the occasional playful discipline that came with being George’s boy.

As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields, George took a seat on a wooden chair in the barn whilst Alex continued to put the tools away. “Come here,” he called out with a chuckle, gesturing for Alex to approach. “I think it’s time for you to learn the real meaning of punishment.”

Alex stood in front of George. “What have I done Dad?”

“As you know, I managed to placate Mrs Jenkins’ anger through the discussion I had with her, but she insisted you’ve been a naughty boy, as you know and had insulted the Lord by even thinking to waste your seed. I know, I know, it’s silly what she thinks but I must placate her anger even more by providing you with a good spanking,” George said, his voice a mix of severity and affection. “You’re going to learn to behave around here and not to upset Mrs Jenkins. You do remember you upset her, don’t you?”

“Yes, Dad I do but it was an accident and I’m sorry,” trying to reassure George. “I’ll be good, Dad,” he promised, his voice breathless. “I’ll do anything not to be spanked.”

“Well, Mrs Jenkins insists I punish you, country style, otherwise she will resign, and we cannot have that can we? Mrs Jenkins is very tolerant and ignores our relationship and she will be hard to replace.”

“No Dad, yes Dad” was the only response Alex could produce.

“Country boys get spanked hard and son, you are no exception to this rule. I was spanked when naughty and so shall you be and Mrs Jenkins is expecting a solid spanking to pay for your behaviour, do you understand?”

“Yes Dad, I do understand but I am too old to spank don’t you think? Besides, I did not do anything, I was just sitting in the sun enjoying my time.”

“No son, you will never be too old to spank when a spanking is deserved and let us be honest, being discovered pleasuring yourself is not exactly, not doing anything is it? Now pull off your t-shirt and drop the shorts and do not forget to remove your shoes and socks.”

Alex did as instructed even though he did not want to and felt the whole incident was pathetic, but it was a new relationship between them, and he was willing to go with the flow. Alex also remembered his spanking sessions in the city with his friends and they never really hurt so this should be a piece of piss he thought as he now stood in front of George in his white vest and tighty whities.

George pulled Alex towards him and when suitably placed he slipped the white vest off Alex and then pulled down his tighty whities until they nestled at Alex’s feet ready for stepping out of. Then in one movement, Alex was over Daddy’s knees in a position he had not been in since a child with his tighty whities now lying on the ground.

Naked and immobile, the first few smacks indicated what was coming, George’s hand leaving a trail of heat across Alex’s bottom. He wriggled and squirmed with each smack. The pain increased, balanced with the promise of love and care. Alex had lost his erection by the time he started to cry, and George was feeling guilty knowing he had to perform his duty by continuing with the punishment. It was when Alex started to wet himself that George finally stopped as Alex lost all control of his bladder spraying his warm water all over George’s lap and down his leg. In the immediate silence afterwards, Alex just lay across George’s knees panting with no sign of arousal as one would expect, his buttocks displaying a deep shade of red that any person would have been delighted to see, a naughty boy getting his punishment as it should be delivered.

Alex needed a cuddle that much was certain, and George picked Alex up and embraced him as he sat on his lap, snuggled up against George’s chest whilst he mischievously played with his anus and Alex could feel and was starting to enjoy.

When the time was appropriate George helped him up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now,” he said, his voice gruff, “you stay like that until I say you can put your clothes back on.” He kicked Alex’s clothes further away with a laugh, watching his boy trying to cover himself with his hands whilst becoming aroused after his cuddle. Looking at Alex and his erection, George muttered, “And that will have to wait,” as he left the barn.

Alex’s heart raced as he nodded, the cool air of the barn sending shivers down his spine. “Yes, Dad,” he murmured, his voice filled with both excitement and a hint of trepidation, his nakedness the acceptance of the relationship. His bottom was certainly still on fire after the spanking and what he had experienced was not like the city spankings he had enjoyed. It hurt and suggested a lesson to avoid in future.

George returned sometime later to find Alex still standing where he had been told, naked and erect. This time though, George had discarded his work clothes and was standing there in his tighty whities with a very noticeable bulge.

George announced, whilst mesmerised with the sight before him, “Son, I have informed Mrs Jenkins that you have been suitably punished over my knee and she seems to be satisfied when I assured her you will not be naughty again so at least we don’t have to worry about that issue anymore. I will also tell you that she wanted to know the details of your punishment, probably more out of curiosity than anything so I told her that I stripped you naked and put you over my knee and thrashed your bottom until it was red which is not far from the truth I admit. I figured she would want to know I did not hold back.

“No Daddy we don’t want to tell her lies but please tell me you didn’t mention I wet myself, it’s humiliating enough without her knowing and please can I get dressed, I don’t want her to see me like this,” Alex begged whilst rubbing his bottom because the spanking had hurt more than he realised.

“Sorry Alex, Mrs Jenkins figured you must have wet yourself because my work clothes were very wet in the lap region. She told me to take them off so she could put them in the washing machine muttering something like, naughty boys always wet themselves during a spanking. Anyway, she was incredibly happy knowing I had attended to you as she expected.”

George glanced at Alex who looked visibly horrified that Mrs Jenkins knew he had wet himself and in an attempt to cheer him up George suggested, “There’s no need for you to get dressed yet because I have a lovely surprise planned which I hope you will truly enjoy,” as George took Alex’s hand and led him naked out of the barn back towards the house.

Mrs Jenkins deliberately had not left for home yet. She wanted to witness the results of the spanking if the opportunity was granted. She was traditional like that and had seen enough red bottoms to know the intensity of the punishment. When she saw George Taylor helping Alex across the yard, she could see the discomfort in Alex although she failed to see the effects of the spanking on his bottom as they walked towards the house.

She also noted that Mr. Taylor was still in his damp tighty whities because the little brat had wet himself and she felt a little surprised that Mr. Taylor had not changed into clean underwear as she had suggested. Likewise, she noted the boy’s erection as he walked with Mr Taylor’s support, but she remembered her boys getting excited for no reason. Feeling that justice had prevailed, she packed her bag and left for home suitably delighted that discipline was still handed out during these modern times.

Alex’s curiosity was piqued as George led him to the bedroom, the house now their own, his hand resting on the small of Alex’s back. The older man had a knowing smile as he closed the door, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Daddy has a little present for you,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a sleek, black object that made Alex’s eyes widen in curiosity and a hint of trepidation. It was ten inches in length and was designed for one thing and one thing only and Alex knew exactly what it was, but George smiled broadly when he introduced it to Alex. “It’s a prostate vibrator,” George explained, holding it up for Alex to see. “It’s going to make you feel so good, my boy. So, so good.” He stroked Alex’s cheek with his thumb, the gesture both gentle and firm. “And when you cum for me,” he continued, “you’ll understand what it truly means to be a good boy.”

Alex swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving the toy. He knew George meant well, that he wanted to give him pleasure beyond what he had ever experienced before. And so, with trembling hands, he allowed the older man to guide him over his knees bending over and allowing access.

George was patient and thorough, explaining each step as he went. He coated the vibrator in a generous amount of lube, the sound of it squelching through the air. Alex felt his heart racing, his body tensing as he anticipated what was to come. But George’s soothing words and the gentle stroking of his cock helped to ease the tension, replacing it with a growing sense of excitement.

As George inserted the vibrator, Alex’s eyes rolled back in his head. The sensation was strange at first, a feeling of fullness that grew with every inch. But as George began to move it, the young man realized that it was not just strange—it was incredible. The toy hit all the right spots, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through his body.

George watched him closely, his hand never stopping as he whispered words of encouragement. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it all for Daddy.” His eyes were dark with desire, his cock straining against his briefs. “You’re going to make Daddy so proud when you cum.”

Alex felt his body tighten, the pleasure building to a crescendo. He had never felt so vulnerable, so open to another person’s touch. And as George’s hand moved faster, the massager working its magic, Alex knew that he was going to come harder than he ever had before.

With a cry that echoed through the room, he did just that. His orgasm was intense, his body shaking with the force of it. His cum landed on George’s briefs initially and then the remaining flowed down his leg, dribbling and cascading lower like a stream of liquid will. And as he looked up, he saw the pride in George’s eyes, the love that went beyond mere companionship.

And as George pulled the massager from his body, the warmth of the afterglow suffusing his cheeks, Alex knew that he had found his place. He was George’s boy, and he was ready for whatever the future held.

They walked to the bathroom hand in hand, their steps echoing in the quiet hallway. The warm water of the bath was a soothing balm on his tender skin, the scent of lavender filling the air as George helped him into the tub. The older man’s hands were gentle as they washed away the remnants of their play, the suds sliding down Alex’s body in a caress that left him feeling cherished and protected.

Alex was content and spent with only one thing on his mind, he wanted to please his dad in the only way he could and as he kneeled in the bath, he faced his daddy and gently pulled his tighty whities down to see his dad’s mature cock waiting for attention. George stopped what he was doing and had become fixed in his place, the anticipation being too much.

“Son, you don’t have to do this, you know” was the only sentence he could produce.

“Daddy, I want to return some pleasure to you as a thank-you present.”

With a soft smile, Alex leaned forward, his mouth open and eager. He took George’s cock into his mouth, the heat of it sending a jolt of pleasure through him. His eyes never left George’s face as he began to suck, his tongue swirling around the head in a tantalizing dance that made the older man’s hips buck.

The sounds of their pleasure filled the bathroom, the wet slap of skin against skin, the guttural moans that tore from George’s throat as Daniel took him deeper. He had never felt so powerful, so in control, as he watched George’s face contort with pleasure, his body writhing in response to Alex’s ministrations.

George’s hand found Alex’s hair, his grip tightening as the younger man’s mouth worked its magic. Alex could feel George’s body tense, knew that he was close to the edge, and he redoubled his efforts, his cock aching with need. The taste of George filled his mouth, a heady mix of man and desire that made him feel alive.

 

And then, with a roar that shook the very foundations of the house, George came, the warmth of his release flooding Alex’s mouth. The younger man swallowed, his eyes never leaving George’s face, the intensity of the moment etched into his very soul.

As George’s body went slack, Alex pulled away, his lips swollen and glistening. The love in George’s eyes was a balm to any doubts he might have had, the older man’s chest heaving with the aftermath of his climax.

George climbed into the bath and sat at the other end gazing upon Alex. They sat there, in the dim light of the candles, their bodies entwined, their hearts pounding coordinated. It was a moment that transcended the physical, a declaration of the love that had grown between them, a promise of forever.

The water grew cold around them, but neither man cared as they stared at each other, their breath mingling in the steamy air. They had found their place in the world, and it was right here, in the warm embrace of the house, in the quiet moments that spoke louder than any words ever could.

As they climbed into bed that night, Alex snuggled close to George who was naked for the first time in Alex’s company, his body fitting perfectly against the older man’s side. The heat of their shared passion had cooled, leaving only the warmth of their connection. George wrapped an arm around him, his hand resting comfortably on Alex’s hip. “Sleep tight, my boy,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection as he gently kissed his boy on his forehead.

Alex nodded, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He knew that from this moment forward, he would share George’s bed, his life, and his love. As he closed his eyes, the steady rhythm of George’s breath lulling him to sleep, Alex felt a sense of belonging that he had never known before.

As Alex started to drift away, he moved his arms to cuddle his new Daddy feeling his Daddy’s erection as he lay there. George did not reject Alex’s playfulness. Quite the contrary, George rolled onto his back allowing Alex the freedom to move and move he did. Alex changed direction and nestled his head in George’s groin and enveloped the raging erection and started to devour and suck his daddy for the second time that evening yet again. Alex played with the daddy’s cock and balls, his tongue exploring all the nooks and crannies of his body until daddy started to convulse with pleasure as he shot his load for a second time and Alex took it all.

Alex turned around and kissed George exchanging some of Daddy’s cum and slowly they both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, George woke Alex up with a kiss on the forehead and a gentle nudge. “Come on, boy,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s have coffee on the porch before breakfast.”

Alex blinked sleepily as he climbed out of bed, his cock still half-hard from the dreams of the night before. He followed George to the kitchen naked having not been dressed yet, where a pot of coffee was already brewing, and the scent of pancakes filled the air. The older man was not dressed either as Alex sat there naked, dreaming about yesterday and the vibrator that had changed his perception of what an orgasm should be. His recollections aroused him until he had become fully erect with precum yet again dribbling down his cock.

George took the coffee mugs out onto the porch and Alex dutifully followed enjoying the morning sunshine. George patted his much-recovered bottom from the day before, as an invitation for his son to sit on his lap, facing out over the fields in a tight embrace of support and love. As George enjoyed his son sitting there naked like himself, he started to play with his erection. George whispered into Alex’s ear, “Daddy wants his boy to cum for him,” as Alex laid back in submission nestling his head into Daddy’s shoulder.

As Alex lay on Daddy’s chest, George could feel his boy getting closer. “Dad, I’m….” George acknowledged the words by reassuring him, “I know son, I can feel your excitement building,”

Alex stiffened as his cum started to erupt from his cock and then the first enormous spurt of cum landed on his chest. Additional spurts joined the respectable deposit with final spurts dribbling down his shaft as his daddy continued to stroke him.

“It’s okay son, you just keep going for daddy, let daddy have his fun.” Alex was now getting extremely sensitive as George continued to stroke him, the cum now becoming a white cream on his cock from the movement of Daddy’s hand. Alex felt more excitement and sensitivity flowing through his body until he could not take any more.

George stopped stroking Alex leaving him to recover from his orgasm but feeling aroused himself, George reached for the lube, his movements deliberate and filled with purpose. Alex’s eyes widened slightly, a thrill of anticipation shooting through him as George lifted him gently, the cool morning air kissing his bare skin. He felt the heat of Georges’ cock, the blunt tip nudging against his entrance, a silent question that was met with an eager nod.

The older man slicked his shaft with practised ease, holding his embrace of Alex with his other arm. The younger man felt his breath catch in his throat as George lowered him back down, the tip of his cock slipping past the ring of muscle, filling him. The ease with which they moved together was a testament to the trust that had grown between them, a dance of desire that was as natural as the rhythm of the seasons.

George’s hips began to move with increasing urgency, his cock sliding in and out of Alex’s tight heat. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure through Alex’s body, his prostate swollen and begging for release. His eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth forming silent words of ecstasy as the pleasure grew, threatening to consume him.

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the morning air, a primitive rhythm that seemed to synchronise with the beating of their hearts. George’s grip tightened on Alex’s hips, his breath coming in harsh pants as he drove deeper, pushing Alex closer and closer to the edge.

Alex’s moans grew louder, his body tightening around George’s cock as he felt his orgasm approaching. The sensation was like a wildfire, spreading through him, igniting every nerve ending until he was nothing but a mass of need and pleasure. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, George reached the pinnacle, his cum spilling into Alex’s welcoming body. The younger man followed suit, his orgasm crashing over him, his cock spurting hot jets of cum onto the wooden porch for the second time that morning.

For a moment, they stayed there, joined as one, the world around them fading away. The morning air was a cool embrace, a stark contrast to the heat of their passion. As they pulled apart, their breathing still ragged, Alex felt a warmth spread through him when George whispered in his ear “Did you enjoy that son?” On this occasion, the silence of no response was answered enough.

Life on the farm became a routine but a minor disturbance occurred when George announced he had to go away for a couple of days to visit his cousin who was not well. Alex wanted to accompany him, but it was impractical because the animals still required care and attention, and Alex was the only person available.

George departed and Alex was left alone wondering how he would cope for three days without Daddy and how would he cope on the farm without his help. Alex immediately missed his dad and could not wait for his return.

However, Alex decided to spend his time well and since it was hot, minimum clothing would be required so he set about spending the whole time in his tighty whities working around the farm tending to everything.

Strangely, Mrs Jenkins was comfortable about his attire when he was making coffee one morning and she arrived for a day of housekeeping to find him in the kitchen wearing his tighty whities and the vest tucked into the waistband of his underwear. “Alexander!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and amusement, her eyes scanning his bare legs and feet. “What on earth happened to your clothes, young man?”

“Whilst Dad, sorry George, is away I plan to stay like this, and I hope you don’t mind because you are the one who suggested I should be properly dressed as a country boy.”

“Well, I had assumed you would be wearing more than your underwear but my boys used to spend all their time like you are now, and I found it perfectly acceptable for country boys to spend time feeling comfortable during the hot weather.” She said as she put the shopping bags down and wrapped her apron around her waist, ready for the day ahead.

Then, without warning, Mrs. Jenkins spoke. “Alexander, tell me, are you and Mr. Taylor in a relationship?” The question hung in the air like a misplaced note in a symphony, jolting him out of his early morning daze. He fumbled with his mug, nearly spilling the coffee. “What?” he choked out, trying to keep the surprise from his voice.

Mrs Jenkins wiped her hands on her apron, her expression unreadable. “You just called him dad and then changed it to George,” she said, her tone measured. “The only reason for calling him dad is if you are an item.”

“No, Mrs. Jenkins,” he said finally. “Mr. Taylor, George is just a family friend.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. For now, at least.

Mrs. Jenkins studied him for a moment, her eyes sharp and knowing. “I see,” she said, turning back to the stove. “Well, don’t let me keep you from getting dressed if you wish or remain like that. Up to you. Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.”

The conversation was over, but the tension remained, thick as the smoke from the frying pan. Alex retreated to the safety of the porch for an urgent smoke to calm his nerves with his thoughts racing as a knot in his stomach tightened. Was it that obvious?

As Alex sat down to eat breakfast, Mrs Jenkins began to talk. “I want you to know, Alexander,” her voice softer than usual. “I won’t judge. You know that.”

Alex’s eyes widened, his heart hammering in his chest. He had not expected this. He looked up at her, his mouth full of food, unsure of what to say.

Mrs. Jenkins sighed, “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters,” she continued. “But I’ve got to run this house, and if there’s anything… inappropriate going on, I can’t be exposed to it. Do you understand? The Lord is happy turning a blind eye and so will I be.” She met his gaze, her expression serious but kind. “I’ll turn a blind eye as I said, but I don’t need to see anything. No nudity, no… you know, otherwise, I will have to punish both of you, so let’s leave it like that.”

Alex felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Yes, Mrs. Jenkins,” he managed to murmur, pushing the food around his plate. He could not believe they were having this conversation, but a part of him was relieved. It was out in the open now, an open secret that would never be discussed again but he would have to tell George.

Alex spent the days as he planned, in his tighty whities working around the farm. Mrs Jenkins watched him a couple of times on the day of their chat and sort of admired his physical attributes and commitment to the farm and his new way of life, but she felt sad that such a beautiful boy was not following the Lord’s doctrines but she now accepted George and Alex as people they are.

George was late coming back and not wanting to wake Alex, he slept in his old room.

Just as the first light of the sun painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, George shuffled out of bed, his tighty whities a picture of comfort, modesty, and ease in the early morning light. Alex’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of the man, he now called Dad or Daddy, his eyes devouring every inch of George’s strong, weathered form and ran to embrace him.

“Welcome home Dad, I have missed you so much as they kissed each other in a long display of passion mixed with longing and delight at his return to the farm.”

Breaking away from their kiss, all George could say was “Morning’, boy,” his hands landed on Alex’s bare shoulder. “Thought you could use some company,” as he turned Alex around to face outwards from the house, wrapping his arms around his boy protectively and lovingly.

Alex did not move. He just stood wrapped in Daddy’s arms feeling safe again as he dropped his head to nestle against the strong arm that held him. George’s hands began to slide down his arms, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the coolness of the morning. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, his breath hitching as George’s fingertips danced along the edge of his Pjs bottoms.

Alex had a funny thought as he remembered the chat with Mrs Jenkins. She would be happy he was wearing Pjs even if only the bottoms. She would not be happy knowing that shortly, they would be at his ankles, and he would be naked in the arms of his lover, his daddy. “Dad, she knows, Mrs Jenkins knows about us, she challenged me when you were away and although I lied to her when I rejected her suspicions, she knows and said she will turn a blind eye as long as she doesn’t see anything that she dislikes.”

“Son, she has always known, she is not stupid you know and has always turned a blind eye. It was only when she caught you that time that it became an issue I had to deal with.”

“But she came right out and asked me.”

“She was playing with you I suspect, what were you doing at the time?” George asked.

“I was in my tighty whities and vest at that time, but she was not angry about that as she said that even her boys would be like that during the hot weather. She did surprise me though providing her consent to my being like that for the whole time you were away.”

“There you go, she was playing with you, but in her strange way, she was happy you were comfortable being you but wearing what she likes boys to wear. Tradition is important to her and you wearing your tighty whities is a silent agreement you have made to be traditional, so we have nothing to worry about.”

George continued to embrace Alex whilst playing with the waist of his Pj bottoms. Alex in the meantime had moved his hands to touch George’s hips and slowly pushed down the cotton material of his tighty whities until he could feel the warmth of George’s cock in his hand. Not completely happy with this feeling, Alex pushed the underpants down until they dropped to the deck of the porch.

George was now naked and erect as he inserted his hands under the Pj bottoms that Alex was wearing, gently he pushed the Pjs bottoms down allowing them to slip to the decking and he stepped out of them. They were now both naked and playing with each other.

George’s hand wrapped around Alex’s length, his thumb rubbing circles around the base as he gently tugged on the younger man’s member. Alex gasped, his body responding immediately to the familiar touch. He leaned back into George’s embrace, the warmth of the older man’s chest seeping into his back as the hand on his cock grew more insistent.

“Daddy, if you continue to excite me like this I’m going to cum.”

“That’s okay son, you just cum for Daddy when you are ready,” George responded.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the only sound of their ragged breaths mingling in the quiet of the dawn. Alex felt cherished, protected, and loved in a way he never had before. The world outside the farm did not matter anymore; all that existed was George’s touch and the safety of his arms as his body stiffened in another orgasm, shooting his cum into the cotton material of his Pjs that lay on the floor.

The sound of the coffeemaker gurgling to life inside the house was a gentle reminder that the day was truly beginning. George released him with a final squeeze, his eyes filled with affection. “Breakfast’s ready,” he said, his voice thick with want. “Let’s go inside and eat before we get too distracted.”

Alex nodded, his legs feeling like jelly as he followed George back into the warm embrace of the house. The promise of pancakes and a day of work and play on the farm lay ahead, but for now, all he could focus on was the steady beat of his heart and the feeling of George’s hand on his naked bottom guiding him.

Their morning ritual had changed but in the best way possible. The farm was no longer just a place to work; it was their home, a sanctuary where they could explore their desires without fear of judgment. As they sat down to eat, Alex knew that no matter what the future held, he had found his place.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and months into years. The farm grew more prosperous under their combined care, and their bond grew stronger with each passing day. The discipline and structure that George brought to their relationship was a comfort to Alex, a reminder that he was loved and cared for. The daily baths, the shaving, the vibrator, the sex, and the love all became a way of life.

As for the spankings, they occasionally happened when Mrs Jenkins’s sensibilities had been compromised and required satisfaction. On one occasion, she had even insisted on watching Mr. Taylor dole out a required spanking when Alex had forgotten her weekly schedule. On this occasion, in the barn, she sat on the chair as if in the cinema, the only thing missing was the popcorn as George brought Alex in, already stripped to his tighty whities and vest. She sat there and watched as Alex took off his vest and slipped out of his tighty whities, erection at the ready and waited for George to bend him over the bench.

This time, she commented, “I guess young man, that erection will have to wait for later because you are going to lose it shortly. Punishment is the Lord’s way of payback for misbehaviour,” as George bent him over and started to spank him.

Clash of Wills

The journey back was made in silence. I sat motionless in the passenger seat as we drove back to the small village by the sea. My gaze was lost in the landscape that passed by the window.

I kept reliving, over and over again, what just had happened. My confession, he looking away, his quick pulling out of me to put on his clothes in a hurry with the excuse that we had to go back.

“Stupid… stupid…” I thought as I fought back the tears that insisted on burning my eyes. “Did you think he would say he loved you too? Mad. I must be mad!”

In my chest, my heart was beating hard against my ribs.

However, my lips could still feel his kisses. My body could still feel the throb of his cock. It was all too much. The simple fact of being there, in that car, as we drove back to the rented house was consuming me.

Worse than all of this was his silence and his apparent indifference. As if my dreams had been shattered and thrown away.

A sob was dying in my throat, insisting on coming out.

When we arrived at the house, I just ran out of the car, taking the shortcut that went straight to the beach. That same shortcut where, just that afternoon, he had kissed me, leaning against the big tree.

I ran without looking back, without worrying about who had stayed there to watch me run away.

I heard his voice calling my name. That voice that set my soul flying high, in that moment tore my soul apart as if it were shards of glass.

I kept running until I reached the pine forest where I hid, running away from everything and everyone, as if that would allow me to escape the pain. I slipped down the damned tree that had witnessed our kiss. And I cried.

I let my sorrow turn into tears and pour from my eyes, trying to extinguish the pain that burned in my heart. I stood there lost in the pine forest, unaware of the time that was passing. In truth, nothing else mattered to me. I let the tears run dry and stayed there, caught between the pain and the numbness that settled inside my chest.

I kept hearing his voice calling me along the way, becoming more and more present. “Please… go away! Leave me alone… please!” I’m sure he meant to say it out loud, but it came out as nothing more than a moan.

He was still anchored to that tree as if it were a lifeboat. His voice was getting closer and closer. Painfully close.

“Psst! Primo!” he said in a sweet tone.

His voice came from behind me, making me shiver at his proximity and at having been discovered.

“Please! Leave me! I want to be alone!” I said in a pleading tone.

He sat down next to me, pulling me towards him. I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Fuck! I told you to leave me here.” he said in a louder tone.

I struggled, pushing him away and preventing him from holding my arms until I lost my strength and succumbed to his embrace. Then, when I thought I had no more tears, I cried into his chest.

“Why? Why?” I asked, already knowing perfectly well the answer to the question I was asking.

“Fuck, Luís! What do you want me to say to you? That it’s impossible? That it can never be? That this damm thing will just fuck everything up? That this will destroy the family? Is that what you want to hear?” he said to me in a torrent of words that left no room for an answer.

“LIE TO ME!” I screamed. “Just… lie to me!”

I felt his face press against the top of my head, wrapping me in his embrace.

“Luís… I can’t lie to you.” I said almost in a whisper.

“Do you love me?” I asked.

Pedro remained silent. I could hear his heart beating fast in his chest. His breathing was rapid. His arms around me tightened slightly.

“I asked you a question, Pedro! Do you love me?” I insisted, as if the answer was necessary for me to continue breathing.

He pushed me away from his embrace, got up from the ground, shaking off the sand and pine needles that had stuck to his clothes. His eyes rested on me. I searched them for any sign of an answer to my question. It was, still, the same eyes that made me lose my breath, the same eyes that broke down my defenses.

“Come on. Your mother was waiting for you to get home. I told her you had to walk for a while because you had a few too many drinks.” He said, giving me his hand to help me get up from the ground.

“You didn’t answer me.” I said almost in a whisper.

“FODA-SE… STOP!” he shouted.

The outburst made me shiver as I watched him. I had never heard him yell or lose his temper. Pedro was always very measured when he spoke and seeing him like this left me baffled.

He started walking back towards the house in long strides. I could see his shoulders tense and his back extremely straight, while he shoved his hands on his pockets.

“Move! Before you fuck things up even further!” he yelled as he walked away from me.

Those words were like a punch to the stomach. I felt like my heart had skipped a beat. The wave of nausea was real.

When we read about a character feeling so bad that he vomits because of his emotions, we never think it’s real. But it is. There I was, turned into a character in some book, on the verge of vomiting.

I used the tree as a support to stand up and took a deep breath, trying to control my nausea. I started walking back to the house, keeping my distance from him.

When I entered the house, my mother stared at me. Her eyes said more than her mouth said.

“Look at those eyes!” she said in a disapproving tone.

I looked in a mirror in the entrance of the house. There it was. The reflection I couldn’t hide. My eyes were red and swollen from crying.

“But you don’t smell like alcohol. Luís, smoking something, instead?” she asked, coming closer to me.

“Mom! You know I don’t like that! I just had a little too much to drink and felt sick. I ended up throwing up. That’s all!” I said, trying to hide the tears that wanted to consume my voice again.

My mother’s gaze wandered over my face.

“Go to bed. Let’s see if you can cure your drunkenness!” she said in an authoritative tone.

I went to my room in a flash. I wanted to be alone, to be away from everything and everyone. I lay down on my bed, but the sheets still smelled like Pedro. That was enough for the images of his body, the sensation of his kisses, the memory of his wonderful cock penetrating me and me being filled with his sperm to be the breaking point.

Then, grabbing a pillow and placing it over my face, I screamed. I let my screams carry away the frustration I felt inside me.

I don’t know how much time passed. I know I fell asleep from exhaustion and total emotional exhaustion. I woke up with the feeling that someone was looking at me. I tried to focus my eyes because the room was already enveloped in the faint light of a very late sunset.

“Psst! Primo.” I heard his voice say.

Sitting at the foot of my bed was Pedro. His swollen and red eyes clearly showed that I wasn’t the only one who had been crying. However, his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“Listen. You can’t stay like this. We can’t. It’s impossible and you know it.” he said in a tone of frustration. “No one will accept it and this will ruin our family.”

I heard a long, deep sigh as he settled into the bed as if looking for a more comfortable position to be able to give me some news.

“… now I can’t stay away from you either.” he finally let out.

“And what does that mean? That you like me? That you feel the same way I do?” I asked.

“It just means that I feel good when I’m with you. You make me feel good. I like your touch, your voice. The way you laugh. Fuck, I love your smell and the way you moan when I’m inside you. You drive me insane with that thing you with your ass, when you’re about to cum.” He said calmly, punctuating each statement with a shake of his head. “Is it love? I don’t know, Luís. But we can’t afford that. That’s when we’d fuck everything up.”

I approached him, crawling across the bed to his lap.

“So, if you can be an adult and know that this is the most I can give you right now… perfect! Then you have all of me. If you insist on more, on wanting more… then we have to stop being together. And I’ll make up an excuse to go back to Lisbon tomorrow.” He said, never looking at me.

I stayed there, sitting on his lap, trying to decipher what was hidden in his gaze. Something was there that wasn’t there before.

I hugged him, trying to get closer to him. I pressed my nose against his neck, inhaling his scent. The scent of Old Spice was perfect for him. I saw his Adam’s apple sway and touched it with the softness of a caress.

A sigh escaped his lips. I just stayed like that, in that embrace where I felt protected.

Suddenly someone knocked on the bedroom door. On the other side, my father’s voice.

“Guys! Dinner is on the table!” he said in a calm voice.

I literally jumped to the floor trying to put some distance between me and Pedro. My father opened the door while I pretended to look for something on the bedside table. Pedro remained sitting at the foot of my bed.

“Come on! Hurry up!” my father said, urging me to hurry up. “Your mother told me that you drank a little too much and threw up. You have to calm down. Next time don’t come home right away.” he said with a smile.

My father was the typical Latino Macho. Real men are alphas males and they can do anything. From drinking or jumping from relationship to relationship, everything was allowed. For him, his son getting drunk was normal. As long as I didn’t show up at my mother’s side like that, because he was the one who had to listen to her complaints.

“Yes. Something I drank didn’t agree with my stomach. But now I’m fine!” I replied casually.

Pedro continued to listen to the conversation without saying anything. Looking between me and my father with a small smile on his lips.

Then, out of nowhere, my father reminded me again that, in his eyes, men are for being with women.

“You’re a man now too. You can do some things now.” he said with a smile. “And you have to find a girl. Fuck her! It’s starting to get weird not having a girlfriend.”

Those words burned to my soul, making me feel a twist of agony. I looked at my father and couldn’t say anything.

Several times he had said that “I would rather have a dead son than a sissy son.”

As soon as my father left the room, Pedro looked at me.

“Do you still wonder why we can’t be together? Do you have any idea what he would do to you? Or to me?” he asked, looking straight into my eyes.

“I know…! But it still hurts.” I said, as I looked for something to wear.

“Do you know what he said to me one day? I must have been about 13 years old. I was looking at a magazine with some guys in their underwear. He asked me what the hell that was. Then, as if its the most normal thing to say, he said that if I was a faggot, he would kill me and then kill himself. Sweet, isn’t it?” I said, with a sad smile on my face.

Pedro hugged me from behind, wrapping me in his body. I felt the bubbling of emotions rising in my chest again. As if the tears wanted to burst from my throat again.

“Get dressed. Let’s have dinner. Then we’ll walk a little. You need it and I need it!” I said calmly.

I nodded my head in agreement. I wanted more… I wished for more. But this was all I could have at that moment and, in truth, it was better than nothing.

Dinner went normally, as it always had, and the two of us left through the shortcut that led to the beach.

It was night. The full moon was bright enough to be able to see the path that led us to the beach. We spoke little along the way. In fact, there was little to talk about. Those were the moments when we could pretend to be normal.

I held his hand, trying to touch his skin, intertwining my fingers with his.

“You like playing with fire!” he said smiling. “What am I going to do with you? You managed to turn the world upside down. But you have to be calm.”

“It’s easier said than done, Pedro.” I replied. “But I promise I’ll try.”

When we got to the beach, we sat on the sand watching and listening to the sea. The moonlight perfectly illuminated the night, casting thousands of points of light on the water, creating a kaleidoscope effect of lights and shadows.

I let my head rest on his shoulder as I buried my feet in the sand.

We stayed like that. Simply like that. No need for words.

Then, with the same calm that characterized him, he gently laid me down on the sand. His mouth sought mine in a tender kiss. I felt his lips open mine in a sensual dance, sucking every part of my mouth. His tongue gently entered, seeking mine to taste each other.

This was more than a kiss. It was a promise that, no matter what, he would be there. His breath was ragged with the heat of the kiss. His hand held the back of my head as I pulled him close to me. He pulled off my shirt, kissing and sucking every sensitive part of my body. His tongue traced wet paths from my neck to my chest. With his free hand, he pinched one nipple while sucking the other. It was a sweet agony, between the sharp pain I felt on one side and the sweet pleasure I felt on the other.

My cock was already painfully hard inside my shorts. I could feel the wetness of pre-cum staining my clothes and skin. Suddenly, he brought his mouth to my ear.

“Today… it’s just you! All of this is just for you.” he whispered.

His hot breath sent shivers across my skin, making me moan under his touch. His hands slid to the elastic waistband of my shorts, pulling them down.

In that moment, the whole world around us disappeared. I was only aware of his kisses, his hands and the desire I had to be touched. He began to massage my cock, milking every drop of pre-cum that was emerging from the tip of my shaft, rubbing it on my glans and, thus, eliciting moans and whimpers of pleasure from me. His mouth continued to slide down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and saliva in its path until it reached my cock. He swallowed it greedily, sucking while started massaging my balls.

“Foda-se, Luís! I love the way you taste!” he said as he took a breath to let my cock go down his throat again.

My hips moved unconsciously, thrusting forward toward his mouth, trying to go deeper. I was lost in a sea of sensations. His hands continued to stimulate my nipples and my balls. His mouth sucked my cock greedily, making me moan with pleasure.

“Pedro… I’m… almost there!” I managed to say, my speech interrupted by short, shallow breaths.

“Don’t even think about it. I wont let you cum anytime soon!” I said, stopping sucking.

I looked at him with a pleading look in my eyes.

“Please… Pedro!” I begged.

And he started again. That mouth was taking every last shred of my sanity.

I tried to hold his head in place, but my hands were pulled away and my wrists were pinned to the side of my body by his own hands.

And he kept sucking, stopping and starting again, in an agonizing prolongation of my pleasure.

I writhed beneath his body. My wrists still pinned to my sides.

“Fuck… Pedro… Let me come… I can’t take it anymore.” I begged.

The control of my body had long since disappeared. I writhed beneath his body that restricted my leg movements, while he held my wrists with his hands.

It was then, after long minutes of sweet torment, that he increased the rhythm of his head bobbing. The effect was overwhelming. I felt the orgasm breaking inside me like waves crashing against the rocks on the beach. I lost track of time and space, thrusting forward, shooting jet after jet inside his mouth.

“FODA-SE… CARALHO.” I screamed into the silence of the night.

The spasms of pleasure still shook my body, leaving me behind a haze of post-orgasm confusion.

I stayed there… lying on the sand trying to find myself in the middle of the confusion that took over my mind.

“Psst! Primo!” I said softly. “Foda-se. That’s it.”

He released my hands at the same time I sought his mouth with mine. My lips crushed his, still tasting myself on his tongue. I was literally devouring his mouth. The kisses fell short of what I wanted.

“Hey! Calm down. The world isn’t ending today.” he said with a smile.

“But I had the feeling that it was going to end at any moment.” I replied, still panting.

He hugged me, getting on top of me, feeling his weight sinking my body into the sand of the beach.

“Come on. It’s time to go back.” he said with a smile.

I stood up, trying to shake off the sand that insisted on sticking to my skin, which revealed that I had been almost naked on the beach in the middle of the night.

“Let’s go home.” he said, placing his hand on my back and leading me out of the beach.

The way back was covered with small talk and muffled laughter. The big tree in the pine forest was, once again, witness to another hidden kiss in the night, before returning to the secrecy that we were forced to maintain in that house.

I went to the room that I shared with Pedro and started to change, taking off the shorts and t-shirt covered in sand.

“Psst! Primo.” I said in a whisper.

I looked back with a smile. My eyes stopped on his bare torso. He had come to do the same thing I had.

“Tonight you’re will be mine… again!” he said with a broad smile.

And was there any doubt? I was actually his.

(To be Continue)

Riley kept biting his lip when no one else was looking and it was driving me fucking insane. He would wink at me through the strands of blonde hair that fell across his eyes as he did it, and he had found every opportunity to scratch that place just above his belly button so that his sweater raised up to reveal his slim, hairless stomach.

I wanted to pull down his jeans and fuck him over the dinner table, but my parents would not approve. My aunt and uncle would be horrified. My grandmother would likely die of shock. And my little sister and three cousins would be scarred for life.

So I couldn’t just fuck my boyfriend in the middle of the New Year’s Eve party, even if he clearly wanted me to.

We smiled at my dad’s bad jokes, listened to grandma’s stories, and I even talked to my mom about college plans. Riley and I had both taken a year off after high school, but we were already looking at apartments near the university.

My mom thought we were being very responsible and would have a great opportunity to explore the city in the summer before classes start. But I knew the truth was we were going to spend every possible moment naked and fucking on every surface we could find.

We were perfect together. It had been love at first sight, right after the anonymous blowjob he gave me through the hole in the bathroom stall.

I was always horny. He was always horny. I liked to fuck. He liked to be fucked.

The first time I came inside him we were in the backseat of my dad’s hatchback, parked in the woods behind the movie theatre. It was the summer after graduation and Riley was wearing sneakers, an XL tank top that showed his nipples, and nothing else. His shoes had left a mark on the roof when he came.

Now, if it wasn’t for my family, I would be ripping off his clothes, pinning his wrists together above his head, and sticking my tongue down his throat while I fingered his already-lubed ass.

But the countdown to midnight was keeping everyone together. At Christmas the turkey and beer had sent everyone to bed early and I had managed to sneak Riley into my room for a quiet fuck with one hand around his cock and the other around his mouth.

Tonight, instead of letting everyone retire early, my mom served coffee and the family was halfway through a game of pictionary while the TV showed the fireworks over Paris on repeat.

Riley went up to draw and after he read the card he gave me a dangerous look. The last time I saw that look he had pulled me behind the bookstore beside the mall and pulled down his pants. I fucked him while he watched for anyone deciding to park in the back.

He started the drawing with two parallel lines going up on an angle. I raised one eyebrow. Next he rounded off one end and I nearly gagged.

“It’s a rocket ship!” shouted my little cousin.

Riley pointed at him and told him, “You got it!”

I refused to look anyone in the eye as I jumped up for my turn, blocking the whiteboard with my body and furiously erasing Riley’s “rocketship”. He pinched my ass when he moved by to take my seat.

My cock throbbed in my jeans and I stifled a groan. But when I looked up at the clock and saw 11:45, I saw my chance.

“The fireworks!” I said, turning to my family.

My words took a moment to process in my drunk parent’s minds and then everything was chaos. My dad scrambled to find the kids’ shoes while my mom scrambled to find a full bottle of wine.

In the chaos of everyone getting their coats and shoes on I pinned Riley against the wall and whispered in his face, “You are coming with me.”

Snow had been falling all week, but the night sky was clear. Behind our house the land sloped up in a forested hill, and while my family set up chairs out the front of the house to catch the fireworks over the river, Riley and I climbed into the snow-covered woods until we were out of sight.

I grabbed the fur lining of his coat and threw him down into the snow. He laughed as I fell on top of him and attacked his mouth like a ravenous bear.

There was little time, but I wanted to get just one quick taste before the main course. I slid down his tight body and fumbled open the front of his jeans with my cold fingers. When I had the zipper down far enough I poked into the slit of his boxers and fished out his cock.

The smooth head popped out, on top of the slim shaft. Before it had a chance to get cold I swallowed it whole, relishing the way Riley purred with pleasure and stretched his legs in the snow beneath me.

I only had time for a quick suck, but he gave me a drop of salty precum for my troubles.

I stood and drew Riley to his fee, his naked cock still exposed between us. I quickly moved behind him as he positioned against a tree. He leaned one forearm on the bark and gripped his cock with his other hand, partly to jack off and partly to keep warm.

Quickly, I unzipped my jeans and fished out my throbbing erection. The cold air tingled my skin as I pushed down the back of Riley’s jeans and underwear.

His boxers were caught on his dick like a coat hook, but I only needed to expose his hairless cheeks. I took the risk that I’d have another few moments before midnight to crouch down and spread them. The hairless pink rosebud greeted me and I pressed my face into the warm passage and tongued his hole. Riley moaned out, “No time! I hear the countdown starting.”

In the distance, from the other side of the house, I could hear my family’s voices calling out, joining a chorus of voices from neighbours and their max-volume televisions. The whole town was waiting on the hillside for the big moment.

But the real big moment was coming too.

I stood up and pressed my body against Riley’s back, my lips against his ear, as I pressed my cock against his wet hole and pushed.

My boyfriend was a pro slut. He opened up for me with only a squeak as I bottomed out inside him in one hard thrust, and the cheers went up across the hill as the first firework shot through the sky like an electric cumshot.

I sucked on Riley’s ear and he turned his head to meet me.

I kissed him deep and I fucked him deeper.

My jeans were a barrier to the satisfying claps of naked skin on skin we were used to when we fucked, naked, in the sweaty privacy of my bed. But every time I pulled back and felt the cold air on my damp shaft I was glad to be well-dressed.

I fucked him hard and fast as fireworks exploded above us.

Riley stroked his cock and let out little gasps every time I pounded him. I could see his breath in the air.

We were both desperate to cum.

I squeezed his hips as I fucked him deeper, pushing us both to a desperately-needed release. Hours of family-friendly socializing had backed me up with a mind full of the dirtiest thoughts, and I whispered into Riley’s ear, “I’m going to breed your twinky fucking cumslut hole.”

I felt the muscles of his ass contract. Riley loved the sound of dirty, degrading words. Even if they didn’t make sense. Just the sounds of them made his cock harder. He chewed his lip and growled, “Pound my boy pussy, daddy!”

My hand found his throat and I squeezed a little, rearing his head back as I fucked him faster. “Such a slutty little fag boy,” I whispered.

He gasped out, “Oh fuck, I’m close!”

“Yeah, shoot your little load, bitch.”

“Fuck me harder!”

“Take my cock, faggot!”

“I’m cumming!”

His ass tightened, and his load spat through the air, burning holes in the crip white surface of the snow. Riley groaned and his body melted in my hands, relaxing into the pleasure of his shuddering orgasm.

I needed to cum. I put my hand back on his hip and pounded him harder. I was fucking him so hard he started to gasp with every thrust, desperately holding on to the tree to keep standing. My cock head punched deep inside him and I dug my chin into his shoulder as I held him close and growled, “Take my fucking cum!”

My cock exploded inside him as the fireworks exploded in the sky.

Cum filled his hole and lubed my naked cock as I kept thrusting, shooting again and again inside him. I could feel it dripping out around me, sliding down his smooth skin.

We stayed connected. My cum kept warm inside him while his froze in the snow beneath us. He turned his head again to me and he smiled that perfect, post-fuck smile, and said, “Happy New Year, daddy.”

Master Eddie

I had been a slave for five years now.  There is no escape.  I had been enslaved for a serious crime and I was made a slave for life.   

Master Eddie was only a kid when I was tagged, chipped and became his parents’ household slave.  He was the youngest and the family favourite.  From the day I arrived, he asked questions about what he was allowed to do to me.  Eddie always tried to be around when I had to clean his room.  He would leave the worst mess possible.  If there was no one else around, he would make me strip and wear his worst dirty underpants over my head or suck on his crusty football socks, jockstraps or cum-rags while I worked – and he watched and laughed. He didn’t dare to beat me, but he managed the odd face-slap and even an occasional kick in the balls. 

Eddie also took an interest in canes and whips and loved looking on the internet for every kind of story about the torture and humiliation of slaves.  I know because he delighted in showing me things that he said would one day happen to me.   

At 18,  he was slim, over six feet with a mop of dark brown hair, smooth-chested, quite muscular, and with a face that was as handsome as a Greek God.  His beautiful mouth became a frightening sneer when he told me “I know what I’m going to do with you when I get the chance – you’re a criminal slave – I’m going to do what the fuck I like to you. I’ve got my soft Dad, who never even beats you, to give you to me for my 18th birthday.  Me and Chris are going to make you suffer …” 

Eddie’s little blond friend Chris was much worse.  If he was visiting and the adults were out , he would piss on the floor in the bathroom and make me go in with him and lick it up, while he and Edie watched.  I think it was Chris who guided Eddie on to the worst websites. 

On his 18th birthday a few weeks later, I was given to Eddie.  His mother thought it was a bit risky but his Dad shrugged: “If he kills him, so what?”.  They had two other slaves anyway, who had helped Eddie and his friend Chris convert the big outhouse into a dungeon.  “God help anyone Eddie drags in there”, said his Dad. 

Master Eddie waited in the small ante-room at the entrance of the outhouse.  He was holding handcuffs.  “Strip naked”, he sneered.  “You’re going to get what you deserve”. 

Naked and handcuffed, Eddie grabbed my dick, twisted it painfully, and dragged me by it, still twisted and now with Eddie’s fingernails digging into it.  We entered the dungeon.  I was close to fainting.  Everything smelt new but looked terrifying.  In the centre, a spanking bench.  Along the walls, spanking implements, canes and whips, paddles and prison-straps.  There was a group of terrifying small martinets, and I guessed where they would be used.  Electric batteries attached to sharp-toothed alligator clips, dildoes of all sizes and what I could only make out as a whole sexual torture section.  There was also a big yellow hook attached by chains to the ceiling which looked like a hoist you might see for lifting concrete blocks.  There was more, much more.  “Sit down, slave”.  Master Eddie pointed to a metal chair with straps to keep me from moving.  It was hard and uncomfortable but Eddie made it worse.  He attached my ankles to the spread front legs, making my cock and balls protrude obscenely and he attached my cuffs behind to the back of the chair. 

Master Eddie sat in front of me in a comfortable armchair and smiled at me.  “This is the first time I’ve seen you naked, slave.  You’re a criminal slave and you deserve to be beaten naked all the time.  

“Even the young couple in the house opposite beat their criminal slave naked, in front of their kids as an example, almost every day – his ass, thighs, calves and shoulders are always a fucking mess – sometimes, if he’s done something more wrong than usual, he can hardly walk.  I guess you’ve heard his screams.  They’ve got the right idea.” 

Master Eddie by now could hardly keep a straight face.  He was enjoying himself and his new power and I could see the stirring in his shorts.  He talked on in his calm way: “You’ve had it so fucking easy.  Serving meals, sweeping floors, mowing lawns.  That stuff is for the ordinary slaves.  You’re a criminal slave.  Now you’re now under my total control and you’ll get what you’ve always needed.  Punishment, torture and humiliation … “ 

“Please, Master”, I eventually managed to say.  “Please don’t do this.  I’ll serve you – you’re my Master … ”.   

Master Eddie got up from his chair and simply grabbed the shaft of my flaccid dick.  He pulled it hard and right up so the tip was level with my navel.  I screamed – I tried to beg him to stop but the pain made me incoherent.  Then he twisted it at least one and a half full turns – it was like he was trying to unscrew my dick from my body.  Finally, fully twisted, and with an unbreakable hold on my shaft, he smacked my sensitive tip at least a dozen times. 

When he finally let go, he raised his voice a little and told me “The only begging you’re allowed to do in this place – and you’re not going to leave this dungeon for a long time – is to beg for more, harder, and more painful – ‘thank you Masters, I am a criminal slave, please beat me harder’ – stuff like that.  You will accept that what we give you is never as bad as what you deserve – and what we give you”, he added with a chuckle, “will be fucking painful and fucking disgusting.” 

“By the way, your punishment for that bit of pleading will be 25 strokes of the cane.  Next time it’ll be 50.  Chris will be here in a minute and we’ll give you the 25 together.  You’ll get 5 of the 25 on your dick to keep the pain from the twisting as bad as possible.   

“And from today, you’ll be a toilet.  Chris’s family’s criminal slave had to drink all the family’s piss and eat all the family’s shit from day one.  Even the young kids’ piss and shit.  Now, if Chris or me wants a shit, you’ll eat the whole fucking lot of it – and we’ll piss into your mouth.  My Dad should have made you lick our house toilets but my soft parents gave you a cloth.  All fucking criminal slaves like you should be toilets.  Chris says his shit really stinks – I can’t wait to hear you begging him for it, and you will definitely beg, and I can’t wait to watch you eating it and telling Chris how delicious it is … Chris says that the first time a slave is made to eat shit is the best because the humiliation is so bad and the taste is even worse than they imagined.  You’ll never get used to eating shit, he says, so you’re going to do it again and again and again …” 

I pissed myself.  I sat tied to that metal chair and was so terrified that I pissed myself.  It ran down my thighs and legs, over the chair and formed a puddle on the floor. 

Then Chris came in, a slight blond boy, a bit older than Eddie, possibly 19.  “Fucking hell!  What a disgusting slave!”  Turning to me: “We’re going to attach you by the balls to that ring on the floor and you’re going to lick up every drop off the chair and the floor.  We’ll attach you with bungee-rope so fucking short that you’ll have to almost pull off your balls while you work.  A drop left means a caning.”  Eddie chimed in “He’s already got 25 strokes, 5 of them on his dick, for pleading.”  “You’re learning a fucking lesson”, Chris exclaimed, “aren’t you slave, and you’ve only been here 5 minutes.”  They both laughed. 

They put on gloves so they didn’t touch any of my smelly piss, and they pulled me off my chair.  Chris ordered me to stand with my legs spread above a ring about a yard from the piss which was still dripping from the chair on to the hard floor.  He wound some rope above my balls until they were tight at the end of my sack, and then he attached one hook on the left side of my balls, threaded the bungee through the ring, and then attached other hook to the right of my balls – when he did the right he pinched my ball-sack hard, deliberately I think, and I shrieked.  Chris certainly didn’t care about my shrieks and he soon had me tied up.  “Start licking, slave”, he said.   

I was forced to hurt my own balls just to reach the near edge of the piss puddle.  “Do it, you fucking slave – no one cares if you pull your balls off – lick up every fucking drop or I’ll cut them off for you – you’ll still have to lick it up but you won’t have any balls.”  Eddie just looked at Chris in admiration – “You know how to handle a fucking criminal slave who’s had it too easy”, said Eddie. 

Somehow, after about 20 minutes, I had licked up all my piss from the chair and the floor.  My balls were tortured and swollen.  They ached terribly, and my ball-sack was torn where Chris and Eddie had taken turns to ‘encourage’ me by poking my balls with a sharp and splintery cane that had been snapped in two. 

“Shall we cane him now?”, asked Eddie.  “Yeah, normally I’d give him his first caning on the bench, but you’ve promised him five on his dick, so we’ll attach him to the hoist.  In that position, we can easily cane him on his ass and his dick. 

“I think we should use the reformatory cane – it’ll be fucking painful, especially on his dick, and he can think about what the bigger canes, like the Singapore rattan cane, are going to be like”.  Turning to me, Eddie smirked: “You’re going to be caned every day from now on, criminal slave … ”  

The hoist was directly above the ring, so they left my balls attached to the ring.  Then Chris ordered me to stand up “so I can attach you as wide as possible to this nice leg-spreader”.  But standing up straight was impossible with my balls attached to that horrible ring.  I forced myself painfully into a squatting position.  Torturing my own balls, I stood as straight as possible, collapsing on to my knees painfully hard while Chris attached the spreader.  That made them laugh as Eddie gave each knee a firm kick with his big boots. 

Chris asked Eddie to lower the hoist.  Eddie pressed a button and the big yellow hook on the end of a thick chain descended towards me.  It looked like it could have lifted a car.  Chris handcuffed me and then attached my handcuffs to the hook.  Then he told Eddie to lift the hook a few inches.  I was pulled off my knees into a squatting position.  My hands were dragged up behind my back and I was still attached by the stretched bungee between my balls and the ring on the floor.  “Another six inches, mate”, said Chris.  “No – no – Masters – please”.  I felt an unbearable strain on my arms and shoulders as my handcuffed wrists were forced up towards my neck.  But it was nothing compared with the pain in my balls as the bungee stretched even beyond the furthest I had pulled it to reach the far end of my piss-puddle.  The bungee was crushing my balls.  The boys were having fun.  “That’s about right”, said Chris.   

“Looks like it’s got a choice – I think it’s an ‘it’ now, not a ‘him’ – If it moves during its caning, it’ll either dislocate its shoulders or turn its own balls into mush.”  Then he turned to me.  He was shorter and slimmer than me but he seemed to tower over me in my miserable squatting position.  “We’re going to keep you in that torture-posture while we cane you.  It makes your ass stick out nicely which will make the strokes more painful.  You’re getting 20 on your ass and 5 on your dick from Master Eddie for pleading and 20 on your ass and 5 on your balls (that’ll be fun the way they must be hurting right now) from me for pissing yourself.  As I said, you’d better stay still while we cane you or you’ll do yourself a very painful and lasting injury!” 

Chris lowered himself in front of my face, spat a couple of times, and said: “Beg for your punishment, criminal slave.  Beg for us to be fucking cruel or we’ll double what you’re getting.” 

In agony, in that stretched-out squat, I realised I had to beg convincingly just to survive – “I beg you, Masters, cane me hard, make me scream, torture me and show me no mercy.  I’m a pathetic criminal slave who hasn’t learnt its lesson.  I’ll stay still for my caning, Masters.  I’m learning my lesson from you, Masters …”  I tailed off.   

“After we’ve caned you, we’ll give you something to eat, criminal slave”, said Eddie.  “What do you think we should give you?”  I knew with certainty, with horror, what I had to say now.  “Shit, Master Eddie: please feed me your and Master Chris’s shit.”  They both laughed at that, and high-fived, while I wept, but weeping did me no good, because Eddie took up a vicious-looking cane.  They wanted the weeping to turn to screaming and it very soon did. 

With me in that torturing squatting position, unable to move a muscle, Eddie caned me hard.  It was the first time he’d caned anyone and he used his strength.  His twenty strokes left  searing lines of fire across both buttocks and the tops of both thighs, and he managed to get a few into my crack which had been pulled open by the wide leg spreader.  His inexperience also meant that quite a few strokes flew around my sides and hit my hip-bones, another level of agony.  I sweated and panted and screamed incoherently.

Then it was time for the five on my dick, also to be administered by Eddie.  Chris found a pair of thin tongs which allowed him to grab any part of my poor dick.  Eddie had recently twisted and stretched it.  Now Chris grabbed the tip, crushing it painfully with his tongs and stretching my dick out in front of me as far as it would go.  Eddie lifted his cane.  If had had any more piss, I would have pissed myself again at that moment.  As it was, I farted loudly.  “Double it to ten for that”, said Chris calmly. 

Eight times Eddie caned the shaft of my dick.  The pain was explosive, much worse even than my ass-caning.  The first five were on the top of my dick and the next three on the extra-sensitive underside – Chris simply twisted it over for Eddie to cane the underside.  Eddie smiled while he caned and obviously enjoyed his work!  “You know what’s coming next, don’t you, criminal slave.  Where should Master Eddie put his last two cane-strokes?”  I hesitated only for a moment.  My voice was hoarse from screaming from the sadistic 18 year-old’s muscular caning.  I croaked out “Please cane the tip of my dick, Master Eddie”.   “Hard or with mercy, criminal slave?”  “Hard, Master”.

Chris shifted the tongs so my poor glans stuck out in front of me. It was so vulnerable. Eddie took aim.  He gave the two strokes in quick succession.  The first slammed into the meat of my glans – the pain was severe and all-embracing, like a strong electric shock.  The second smashed my pisshole, making it bleed.  “Disgusting bitch”, said Chris unsympathetically as a couple of drops of blood fell on the floor.  I thought I would pass out as I went dizzy for a few seconds, but then the pain hit me.  It was so extreme, the worst pain yet.  “It’ll have fun pissing after that one”, laughed Chris. 

They left me in that position for the best part of an hour.  My bent knees cramped, my ass was exploding with pain, my dick felt like it had been completely destroyed, my shoulders were wrenching and my balls were continuously tortured by the short bungee rope attaching them to the ring on the floor.   

When Eddie and Chris came back, they’d obviously had something to eat and drink.  Chris had a bottle of vodka in his hands: “This is for us, but I thought I’d rub a bit on your ass and dick, especially on the bloody bits – alcoholic antiseptic – what do you think about that idea, criminal slave?  Want a bit up your sore little pisshole?”  I thought of begging them to stop but then I thought of the likely consequences – I managed to say “Good idea, Master Chris.  Please rub in the vodka to give me extra pain.  I deserve it”.  They laughed and Eddie added “Then Chris is going to fucking cane your ass and balls, and then you’re going to fucking eat our shit”.  Eddie was clearly a bit drunk.   

Chris, on the other hand, was all business as he picked up his cane.  Then he stood in front of me, and faced away from me.  His ass was level with my face in my squatting position.  He lowered his jeans and boxers and ripped a huge stinking fart in my face.  “Inhale it, slave – think about what’s coming after I’ve caned your ass and balls …” 

Disclaimer: This story is about a sexual relationship between a father and his son. if you prefer not to read that subject matter, if you’re not old enough or it’s illegal where you are then please close the browser or hit the back button.

Thanks for the feedback on my stories so far, it’s all appreciated!

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I grew up to be a lot taller than my dad. At the beginning of high school, I caught up to his height of 5″5′ and knew there was a chance my height would stop there. I was pleasantly surprised that I’d grown past 6″ by the time I graduated.

I tower over my dad now, I must’ve gotten my height from my mom’s side. Her brothers were tall like me, even if she was about the same height as my dad. Genetics are weird that way but it worked out for me. I was a star basketball player in high school. That got me a full ride to play college ball and I had a blast. 

My mom passed away while I was still in high school and I’m not sure that my dad’s been able to completely heal from losing her. She really was the love of his life and his light seems a little diminished since her passing. I don’t even think he’s gone on a date yet.

Now that college is over, I’m moving back home to figure out my next move. My dad still lives in the house I grew up in so I was looking forward to being home.

I pack my car full of my belongings and make the hours long drive back home. I only had to stop once for some gas and snacks. The car ride was beautiful and a couple podcasts and playlists kept me entertained enough, it wasn’t too bad of a ride. I should’ve made the time to visit dad more often while I was away.

When I finally arrive a couple hours later, I walk into the house and see a long haired woman in the dining room, facing away from me and folding some laundry.

“Hi, is my dad around?” I had no idea who would be here besides him. Maybe he hired a cleaning service?

When they turned around I was surprised to see it was my dad. His hair was a lot longer than the last time I saw him and I never noticed he was so bottom heavy.

“Hey kiddo, welcome home!” He drops the towel he was folding back into the basket and walks towards me, smiling that comforting, contagious smile.

“Woah dad, how long has it been since I’ve seen you? How’d your hair get so long?” I tease him and muss it up a bit.

“Yeah I guess I haven’t thought about cutting it now that I barely have to make it into the office anymore.” He says as he attempts to smooth it back down. It’s got some wave to it and looks pretty cool. Kind of a hippy vibe. 

“Haa, Guess not. Well you don’t look too shabby. You actually look kind of relaxed, it’s a nice change. I like it.” I compliment him which brings a smile back to his face.

“Really? Thanks bud.” He stands on his top toes and wraps his arms around my neck to give me a hug. “I’ve missed you, it’s going to be great having you home.” 

I return the hug and lean back and lift him off the ground a bit. “Me too, dad. It’s good to be home.” Since he’s smaller than me, I can pick him up the way he used to pick me up as a kid. It’s funny how time turns tables.

He kisses me on the cheek and smiles up at me.

I set him back on the ground and noticed his house clothes seem pretty relaxed and kind of skimpy. I also notice the weight he’s gained, nothing major but his legs and chest look a little heavier. 

He turns around to go to the kitchen and I follow him while he asks if I want anything to drink. “Just a water.” I reply as I notice his bubblebutt sway with each step. His tight shorts don’t look to leave much to the imagination at all.

I shake my head a bit to clear my thoughts, I’m gonna need to find a hot babe to bang on the regular now that I’m geographically disconnected from my previous roster of ladies.

Dad reaches up for the glasses in the cupboard and struggles a bit. So I walk up behind him, place a hand on his waist and easily grab a glass. “Here you go, pops.” 

I hand it to him and as I reach back up for another one, I feel his soft butt meet my pelvis and I had to stop myself from reflexively grinding into him. Oof, yeah I was gonna need to find a new chick, stat. Dad turns around and hugs me again. 

“It’s really good to have you home, I forgot how handy you are.” He says as he relaxed into my arms. He must really be lacking in the physical contact department so I return the embrace. 

We’ve never shied away from being an affectionate family but there’s some connections you need that a family can’t provide. I worry for him a bit, he deserves love and to be loved. It’s long overdue that he start dating again.

“Yeah dad, me too.” I say, enjoying the contact.

We stay like that for a while, neither of us wanting to be the first to break the connection. When we finally part, I ask him if he’s been seeing anyone. He laughs a little and replies “No son, I think that time for me has passed.”

“Dad, you’re barely 40, you have a lot of life left to live. You don’t have to live it alone.” I say, offering him what little wisdom I have.

“Wow, college kid, you sound wise. Well I’m glad you’re here, I won’t be so alone. At least until you find a girlfriend and move out.” He says with a smile but there’s sadness in his eyes at the thought of me leaving again.

“I’m not rushing into anything serious, you might be stuck with me for a while.” At that we both smile, content with the current arrangement.

Over the course of the next couple days, we ran a few errands and made sure I got situated and had everything I needed. I saw dad in multiple different shorts of varying lengths; mostly short athletic type, sometimes the form fitting, wedgie inducing, bubble butt enhancing ones I couldn’t peel my eyes from. I found myself staring constantly and rubbing my cock through my pants. I knew it was wrong but I liked looking at my dad’s fat ass.

He worked mostly at home, ate his meals at home and even exercised at home. He wasn’t going to meet anyone hunkered down in the safety of these four walls. I decide to ask him about it one morning over breakfast.

“So dad, how’s the love life going?” I ask around a mouth full of cereal.

He laughs a little, “I just haven’t had it in me to try again. Your mom was the love of my life, how can I even think about replacing her?”

“Dad, she would want you to be happy.” I say.

“I am happy, I don’t want for nothing. I have everything I want already. And having you here will counteract any loneliness I may feel sometimes.” He reassures me with a smile.

“Yeah but dad, I’m sure there’s some things you miss doing with mom you could do with somebody else. Finding a soulmate doesn’t need to be your end goal, maybe just a little physical satisfaction every once in a while.” I say to comfort him.

“Oh I don’t know, I haven’t been with anyone in so long I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.” He says, confessing his insecurities.

“Do you still masturbate?” I ask invasively. We’ve never spoken about sex this candidly before but I wanted to make sure he really was doing fine.

“Well, yeah…” He admits bashfully.

“Good, then. That’s normal and it’s important to maintain good sexual flow. Even at your old age.” I tease him.

“Hey, I’m not that old.” He playfully punches my arm.

“I know, and you still look great.” I compliment him.

“I think I’ve gained some weight, though..” he says, a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, I thought so. It looks good on you so don’t worry, you carry it well.” A bit of an understatement, he’s got a similar body type to the chicks i loved fucking back on campus. The freshman 15 made some hot chicks even hotter. 

“Thank you son, I’ll consider getting back out there.” He says unconvincingly.

“Alright, don’t take too long or I’m going to set up a dating profile for you.” He smiled at me and I whip my phone out to take a pic. “There, already got the first pic to use when I set it up.”

Periodically I’d snap candid pics of dad around the house. I started doing it more frequently regardless of his state of dress just in case I got a good photo to use. I started noticing the way he walked and did simple tasks, how his hips swayed and body moved. 

He was actually really pretty. His long hair swaying behind him, some shots I’d take didn’t even look like a man with his wide hips and his fatty chest.  

I was getting more and more hot for my dad as the days went on. It was really weird. I went on dates every so often and found myself thinking about my dad and wishing I was home with him lounging and enjoying his company.

Even when I managed to find a chick to fuck, I’d end up imagining it was my dad’s bubblebutt I was sliding in and out of. It wasn’t going away either, it kept getting worse with each date. Why was I so turned on by my dad’s body?

As the week’s went on, dad still wasn’t putting any effort into dating and I was getting kind of bored of the pointless dates I was going on. I teased him about starting his profile and he just waved me off saying he wasn’t in the market to change his life at the moment. I accepted it and took a pic of his profile view and admired how curvy his ass looked from the side. I rubbed my growing boner as I walked to my room.

I lay on my bed and browsed through my gallery of all the shots I had taken of my dad, all of them looked so hot even when he was doing the most mundane task or pose. I took my cock out and started jacking off thinking about touching him and appreciating that plump booty. That wasn’t the only time I came looking through those pics.

After one particularly bad date, I was on my way home when I decided to just give up on it for a while. My heart just wasn’t in it and more often then not, neither was my dick. I pulled up to the house and the lights were all off, dad must’ve already called it a night and went to bed. 

I was a little disappointed as I wanted to talk to him a bit. so I double checked as I was walking by his room and knocked lightly on the door and peaked in. 

“Dad, are you awake?” I whisper into the dark room.

“Sure, bud. Come on in. What’s up?” He asks as  he flicks a bedside lamp on. He’s laying under the covers shirtless and pats the bed next to him. I walk in and sit on the corner. I couldn’t help but notice the room had a heavy, hot feeling in the air and smelled slightly of lube and sex. 

Did I possibly walk in on my dad jerkin’ it?

“Hi, dad. Sorry to bother you. I, uh, just wanted to talk a bit. I just got home from a date and I don’t know how I feel about it. I know I give you shit about not dating and encourage you to get out there but I’m starting to understand not having the desire to go through with it. Even when I have sex with these chicks, I’m distracted and not really into it.” I vent to him and he nods and listens, it felt really good to process what I’ve been feeling and tall about it with somebody.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, that sucks. Especially if you’re not enjoying the sex. Maybe it’s the area, the fish in this pond might not be what you’re used to after living in a college town.” My dad says, helping me to figure it out.

“That could be it, but I doubt it. It’s probably more of the same, honestly.” I try to rack my brain figuring it out but I think deep down I already knew.

I saw my dad move around on the bed a little and his face tensed up for just a second. It looked like he was stifling a moan. 

“Are you okay, dad?” I ask with concern.

“Mm, yeah. I just uh, my stomach is all.” That’s when I notice the bottle of lube on the bedside table. I interrupted his jerk session alright, probably fighting a bad case of blue balls right now.

“Sorry dad, I shouldn’t have woken you up. We can talk about this more in the morning if you’re up for it.” I offer, getting up from the bed.

“No, wait. It’s fine, I’m really glad you came to talk to me tonight and you feel comfortable enough to open up to me.” He says as his face clenches again and I see his eyes flutter a bit towards the back of his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you might be in pain.” I ask him as he bites his lip.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just, uh, well this is kind of embarrassing but I was masturbating before you came in here.” He says bashfully while looking at the lube on the bedside table.

“Yeah, I did notice that there, sorry. This was bad timing.” I apologize. When I get up to leave he grabs for my arm and his face screws up even more.

“Mm. Wait. We should really finish our conversation. As your father I want to be there for you and talk about these things. We shouldn’t ignore our feelings because that’s the manly thing to do.” He says encouragingly.

“Alright dad, do you want to finish off first? You look like you’re ready to burst any moment.” I tease him a bit with a smirk.

“I don’t think you want to see that, that’d embarrass both of us pretty bad.” He chides back.

“Not at all, we’re both men here. It’s totally normal to masturbate. No judgements.” I reassure him.

“Well, it’d be totally understandable if you judged me for this. Its a little unconventional.” He says as he looks away, ashamed.

“What do you mean?” I ask, curiosity piqued.

“Well, okay but don’t freak. It’d be easier to show you.” He says apprehensively.

“Okay. Like I said, no judgements.” I say, excited to see what he’s going to show me.

“Alright, here goes..” he lifts the bedsheet down, slowly revealing himself until his small, soft cock is on display. He must’ve lost his erection while we were talking. He lowers the blanket further and that’s when i see it. Between his legs, plunged halfway inside of him was a fat, flesh colored dildo.

“Oh wooow.” I whisper in awe, amazed at seeing a fake fallis shoved up inside of my dad. I’ve never envied rubber more in my life. In that moment I realized exactly why dating hasn’t been as great as I was accustomed to. Those holes weren’t my dad’s.

“Wow dad, I, uh, I had no idea you were into this.” I say, finding my voice after a couple dumb-struck seconds. He bends his knees so that his hole situation is on better display.

“This was actually your mother’s. After she passed I used to have it near me, remembering the times we used it on her together. Then I started rubbing it on my hole when I masturbated until eventually I started putting it in me.” It was so hot listening to how my dad became a pussy boy. He then started to insert it deeper into himself, slowly, to demonstrate.

“It hurt in the beginning, the pain was almost unbearable and I couldn’t believe people could tolerate it. With each session though I learned to appreciate the pain and accept it as temporary until the pleasure took over. It would roll over me, especially once I started hitting my G-spot. I’d target it with each thrust as I was overwhelmed with bursts of pleasure.” He exclaims as he quickens the pace.

“That might be why I haven’t tried dating yet. Maybe I can’t help but still feel like it’s cheating on your mom? But how could I even ask a woman to do this for me? They would freak out. This is safe and easy.” He says as he’s enjoying the motions of his hand.

“I loved sex with your mom, don’t get me wrong. But fucking myself with her dildo has given me the best orgasms of my life.” His eyes roll back as he speeds up his strokes, enjoying the sensations. His soft, floppy cock lays motionless as all his attention is focused on his fat hole.

I reach out and put my hand over his and his eyes pop open in surprise. “Here, let me.” I tell him and he lets go so I can take over. He holds on behind his knees and keeps his legs bent towards his chest.

“Fuuuuck.” We both moan out together as I watch his ass swallow the dildo I’m plunging into his welcoming hole. Watching it easily go in and out, dad was clearly enjoying letting someone else take over for once. 

I repeat the process for a couple minutes, alternating different speeds to see his reaction. Teasing him with a slower fuck, surprising him with a faster one. 

After a while, I was deep dicking the entire eight inch dildo into him, watching him take it like a champ. I took it out for a better view of his hole and it stayed gaped open for a second before starting to close back up again. His gash was beautiful. He’s clearly been doing this for a while now cuz his hole looked fat, open and wrecked. Looking more elongated like a pussy than a puckered up asshole. 

I moved my hand that wasn’t holding the dildo to trace around the outline of his hole. It was beautiful. I inserted a couple fingers and felt the hot insides of his anal walls welcome me. 

I felt him groan as much as I heard it. He really was enjoying this. 

“Wow dad, your ass really likes this. You must have a ton of pleasure sensors down here or something.” I say, amazed.

“I guess so, I’ve been doing this for so long but it feels so different having somebody else touch me.” He says with pleasure.

“I bet. You know this dildo looks to be about the same size as me.” I let him know, casually mentioning my cock.

“Oh really? Wow you’re blessed, you must not have taken after your old man in the cock department.” He says as he playfully shakes his flaccid cock. “You should let it breath, take it out.”

“Okay, sure.” I remove my fingers from his hot hole so that I can slip my pants down. My hard cock slaps my stomach in a dramatic reveal.

“Oh yeah, you got a big one. I bet the lucky ladies love feeling that snake slide up inside them.” Dad says as he rubs the circumference of his hole before breaching it with a couple fingers. He moans as he fingers himself while staring at my cock.

It was so hot being admired with such desire. I stroke my big cock a couple times as my dad continues to finger fuck himself while staring at my piece. It was so fucking hot watching him please himself.

I sat back down and continue stroking with one hand as my other resumes playing with his hole. He doesn’t take his fingers out so I match his motions as we both appreciate his entrance. 

“You got such a hot hole, dad. It looks like a pussy. You’ve been really working it out haven’t you?” I ask, full of lust.

“Yeaahh.” He moans as I compliment his hot ass. We continue sliding in and out of his open gash.

“This feels good, huh? Not quite as full as that dildo though, I bet. Being used to that, you probably feel a little empty right now.” I tease him as I plunge my fingers into him as far as they could go. I shake my digits, targeting his G spot and watch him squirm on the bed, mouth slack and eyes rolled back.

“OoOohh fuuckk.” He moans.

“Fuck what, dad?” I ask, egging him on.

“Me. Fuck me. Please.” He says the magic words.

“Alright, I can fill you up with that dildo again. What do you think?” I tease him a bit, knowing damn well where this was going.

“Yes. Put it in me. Your cock. Fuck me with your cock.” He says impatient with lust.

Music to my ears. I was so hot and ready to plunge my cock into my dad. Something I never thought I’d do, or even wanted to, but here I was and my cock was leaking at the chance. 

I climb up on the bed as our fingers leave the warm confines of his hole and I point my cock right at his entrance. Unfortunately I wasn’t going to last long, I was damn near ready to blow my load already. I trace the outlines of his hole, leaving a snail trail of precum behind as my sensitive cock head teases his waiting hole.

“Ohh, ungh.” My dad, lost in nirvana, twitches on his bed in expectation as my cock lightly kisses the entrance to his secret pleasure tunnel.

Unable to hold off any longer, I slowly plunge forward and immediately feel the warmth of his wet anal walls welcome me and suck me in. The tight orifice squeezing my cock as I travel through. He’s already nice and slicked up from the lube he was playing with earlier. I progress further and further at a snails pace to avoid causing any irritation or pain.

Looking at my dad’s face, I see that he’s in heaven. A look of serenity plastered across his face as his only child is splitting him in two. I’m holding him by his ankles and keeping him spread as wide as his flexible legs will allow. 

I finally feel my pelvis make contact with his fat ass as my entire cock has gained entrance. I grind into him, basking in the hot heat emanating from inside of his ass.

“Ohh fuck, dad. You feel so good.” I say as I grind my cock into him, trying to hit every inch that I can.

“You too. I had no idea a real cock could feel even better.” He says as he grinds back against me.

I pull out a bit and push back in on an upward stroke, trying to smash his G-spot every time. I wanted to make him feel just as good as he was making me feel. I was lost in lust as my strokes were getting longer and faster, soon enough I was pile driving hard and fast into him.

I had him thrashing on the bed beneath me, his eyes squinted and head moving side to side. He would illicit cute little gasps and moans periodically and grunt whenever I smashed into him.

This was the reason I wasn’t successful in dating. This was what my cock really wanted. Watching dad walk around in his tight shorts, showing off his fat ass had flipped something in me and my desires changed. Now here we are and our relationship has changed.

I look into his eyes and lean down and plant my lips on his. I’m fucking him fast as my cock and now my tongue repeatedly enters his body. We make out heavy as our bodies start to sweat and our moans are more frequent.

Kissing dad like this was incredible, the fireworks going off were like nothing I’ve experienced before. Even all the chicks I was with at college didn’t compare. Whatever was happening here was like nothing else.

I had to slow down my strokes a bit as I was close to cuming and I didn’t want this to end quite yet.

“Oh fuck, dad, I’m so close to cuming.” I say as I continue to pummel my cock into him.

“Me too, you’re gonna fuck the cum right out of me.” My dad says as we gaze into each other’s eyes before reconnecting our mouths. I loved making out with my dad, especially with my cock buried in his ass.

We fuck for another couple of minutes before the velvety smooth warmth of his ass overwhelms my senses and I’m ready to burst.

“Aahh fuuck dad I’m gonna cum.” I say into his mouth between kisses. “Get ready.”

The sounds of our moans and skin slapping skin as my body slams into his echo in the room around us as we fuck like crazy. I pound into him as I slam against his prostate and make his toes curl. 

“Ohh baby, you’re fucking the cum right out me.” My dad says as his ass squeezes my cock harder than before and flexes with each shot of cum flying out of his cock. “Ahh ungh uh uh.” He moans unintelligibly as his climax overtakes him.

His ass clenching my cock sets me off as I unleash my seed deep in his bowels. I flood his guts as I suck his tongue, our arms wrapped tight around each other like lovers. I shoot half a dozen shots of cum inside of him, soaking his wet walls even more.

My strokes slow down until it’s just a slow grind into him. Our kissing lessens until they’re just sweet little pecks. I break the kiss and nuzzle into his neck, breathing deep and enjoying the post climactic high.

“Fuuuuuuck, that was crazy.” I say in disbelief at the events that just unfolded. Here I was recovering from the best orgasm of my life and it was brought on by fucking my dad.

“That was incredible.” My dad sighs into me, kissing my neck and shoulder while feeling up my strong back. “That was really something else, I gotta say.”

“Yeah it was. Are you okay with what just happened?” I lean up to look in his eyes. 

“Oh, absolutely.” My dad says with a smile. “If that’s what dating’s like, maybe I should get back out there.” My heart drops at the idea of losing my dad to someone else..

“What do you say son, would you want to date your old man?” I smile bigger than I have in a long time as I lean down to seal the deal with a kiss. I’m not letting this ass go and I have zero temptation to see what else is out there.

We were lucky enough to find love where it always was.

“Say something, I’m giving up on you. I’ll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere, I would’ve followed you. Say something, I’m giving up on you. And I am feeling so small. It was over my head. I know nothing at all. And I will stumble and fall. I’m still learning to love. Just starting to crawl. Say something, I’m giving up on you.”

-A Great Big World (Say Something)

 

---

March 2027

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining bright in the sky, and it felt like the New York winter had left early. Noah sat out on the patio with Vivian. She looked far more fragile now than ever before. Her body had taken a beating from the cancer. Despite her deteriorating appearance, she was holding on and full of love and pure good energy.  

“How much longer are you and Blair going to put off going to London,” she asked.

Noah smiled at her, “We’re waiting just a little bit longer. I can’t leave you, Mom. I’m waiting for your miracle. I got mine. When you get yours, we’ll be good.”

“Baby, the miracle is the peaceful exit. I’ve lived a long, rich, and rewarding life. We had this conversation before last year. I told you to live, and you started, but I feel like you’ve stopped since the accident. Keep living, Noah. I’m your mother. You obey me.”

With a smirk, Noah said, “We can have this fight tomorrow.

She laughed, “You’re so damn stubborn at times.”

Suddenly, her laughing stopped, and she began coughing. It was a horrible cough, and within seconds, she spit out blood. It was the first time either one of them had seen that. It scared them both. 

Noah screamed, “CLIFF!” 

There is never a good time to say goodbye. Even when you know the end is coming, it’s still such a hard thing to accept. Noah had known for a year that Vivian was going to die. Her cancer had come back aggressively, and she decided to forgo all treatment. Even with all the knowledge on hand to mentally prepare himself, it was still difficult to see the end beginning.

The team of doctors in the board room was trying to be sensitive and delicate with the information. Cliff was utterly devastated hearing them say that the end was near and giving recommendations on hospice care. Blair squeezed Noah’s hand tight to show his support for him. 

The room felt like it was spinning. Everything was moving at speeds he couldn’t process. He kept thinking there was never enough time. All the years he spent living away from home were now years of regret. Noah couldn’t listen to them anymore. He got up and walked out of the room. He needed fresh air. He needed to breathe again!

April 2027

Noah stood on the Brooklyn Bridge, staring out at the river. He had been there since the early morning hours. Life was not making sense to him anymore, and he was struggling to figure out how to connect everything in his head again. Blair’s hand touched his shoulder.

Noah asked, “How’d you find me?”

“Vivian loved this bridge. Noah, I know this can’t be easy for you. I’m not gonna pretend I know what you feel. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“I need you to tell me that what I’m about to do is okay,” he said as he faced Blair, “she’s holding on because of me. She’s scared that I won’t be okay, but I know she’s in pain, and she’s ready to go. I have to let her go, and I’m scared to do it.”

Blair wiped Noah’s eyes and said, “What you’re about to do is brave, selfless, admirable, and it’s not just okay. It’s the right thing to do for her. She’s done so much for you. Hell, for everyone you’ve ever brought home. Vivian Montgomery deserves her rest.”

The two embraced on the bridge. As the world turned around them, they focused only on each other. The task at hand was a difficult one, but it was truly going to change their lives in more ways than one. 

Noah entered the hospital room. Vivian was sleeping peacefully. Cliff greeted him and exited the room to give him time alone with his mother. MJ had opted not to be there. He couldn’t bear to see Vivian in pain, so he was off with Matthew. As for Matthew, he had come the day before to say his goodbyes. 

Noah took a seat next to his mother. She felt her son in the room. She opened her eyes and seeing his face made her smile. Tears rolled down his face. 

“Hi, he said.

Weakly, she said, “No tears.”

Noah lied, “No tears. I’m just happy to see you.” 

She smiled, “Lying to your mother. I can smell him. He smells like a man with a million hearts.”

Noah gasped, “Dad?” He remembered when he was facing death, and his father was there. 

“He’s forever young,” she said.

Noah took her hand. “You have done such an amazing job with me and my kids. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted you to finally see me happy, but I know no matter what happens next, you’ll see it.”

“Noah, my beautiful boy, the worst things that can happen to you have already happened. I can see your life, and it’s beautiful no matter what. You have loved, lost, and found. Don’t be afraid,” she said as she pulled him closer. “Come closer. I have to tell you a secret.”

Noah leaned in closer. Vivian whispered something in his ear that his heart was not yet ready to receive, but his mind heard it and stored it away for the perfect time. Tears slowly rolled from both their eyes. 

“Mom, I’m going to be fine. I have my kids, friends, and Blair here with me. I will look after Cliff. It’s time for you to take your rest. You’ve done good. Close your eyes and rest. I have it from here. You’ve done well, but it’s time to be with Dad. Let him carry you into the arms of your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Go be young and free and in love with the man who smells like a million hearts.”

“I wish I could stay forever,” she cried.

“I wish you could, too, but no one ever can. It’s okay to go. You just save a spot for me.”

With her dying breath, she said, “I love you, son.”

Her eyes became heavy, and she closed them. Her breathing began to slow down. The moment was nearing. It was all so surreal but real, nevertheless. 

“I love you always and forever. I will carry you in my heart until we meet again. Tell Dad I love him and thank you for sending me back.”

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled.

Noah knew then that she was crossing over. She took one last breath, and the grip she had on his hand ceased. She was gone. He felt the life leave her body. His own heart began to slow down. What’s next? Do you scream and cry? Or do you hold it together and put on a brave face? Where are the answers? He quickly learned there was no right answer. There was only an emptiness inside and all this love that no longer had a place to go. 

Three Days Later

The church was full of people who had come from all across to pay respects to Vivian. Her service was taking place in Orlando because it was her wish to be buried next to her first husband. He was, in fact, the love of her life. Vivian was a woman who loved fiercely and was loyal and compassionate. Her death broke the hearts of many. Noah had been moving on autopilot. He was trying to be strong for his kids, honor his mother’s legacy, and be strong for everyone else around him. It was time for Noah to deliver the eulogy, and when he stood up before everyone, the cracks in his façade slowly began to show.  He froze, and his heart felt heavy with guilt and sorrow. All the eyes in the room were on him. He wasn’t sure he could speak. Then, in the very back of the church, Matthew quietly stood up. 

Noah saw him. He made sure not to let on that he was staring at Matthew. It was like Matthew was sending him strength and courage through the air. Matthew gave him a simple but effective head nod, and Noah knew he could do it. He wasn’t alone. 

Noah exhaled, “My mother was an impeccable woman of talent, class, character, beauty, and passion. To have known her is to have loved her. If you ask any of the people I brought home, they will tell you she made them all feel like a son. That was Vivian. She was a mother to everyone, and she loved with the heart of a lion. She had this innate ability to see the good in everyone. Yes, I used the word innate because it wasn’t a skill she was taught or learned. It was just who she was. It was the core of her DNA. There will never be anyone quite like her.”

The funeral repast was the last thing Noah had to get through. Everyone was coming up and offering their condolences and sharing funny stories about Vivian. It was all becoming way too much too soon for him. He needed to get out, and so he quietly disappeared when no one was looking, or so he thought. Matthew was watching. He had been watching all day. 

Thunder roared across the sky. The rain had been falling on and off again all day. Now that the sun had faded and the moon was out, the rain was falling again. The Uber dropped Noah off at the front of the cemetery. 

He made his way to his parents’ grave. The freshly covered dirt was almost turning into mud. Noah stood there, drenched in the rain. He didn’t know where else to go or what else to do with his life. Matthew came and stood next to him. There were no words spoken. He just wanted Noah to know he wasn’t alone. 

“I haven’t been here since my dad’s funeral. I swore I’d never come here. Funny how things work. Now, here I am twenty-some years later. The rain gets me every time. It rained the day of my dad’s funeral. It rained the day I buried a coffin that was supposed to be your grave. Uncle Bobby’s service was a rainy day, and it was during a drought in California at the time, and now it rains when I bury my mom. Can’t forget I nearly died during a rainstorm. I have to admit I’m fucking tired of the damn rain, Matthew.” 

“When we buried my father, it rained. Someone told me it does that because God is in mourning with you.”

Noah screamed, “We wouldn’t have to be in mourning if he’d just leave us the fuck alone! Stop taking people from us. It makes me so angry I just want to fucking scream.”

“Scream. Let it out. No one is here to judge you.”

“I’m scared to give into the grief. I’m afraid that If I let go it’s going to eat me alive.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let it eat you alive. Let it out. You have to let it out so you can live. Let it out, Monty.”

Noah closed his eyes and let his guard down. All the emotions slammed into him, and he let out a loud scream of agony. The grief consumed him, and just as he was about to drop to his knees, Matthew wrapped his arms around him. Instead of dropping, they slowly got down to the ground.

“I miss her so much,” Noah cried.

“I do, too, but we will get through this. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

Noah rested his head on Matthew’s shoulder and cried. They cried together in the rain for two hours. It was what they both needed. Vivian had been there for them both, and they needed to mourn her together as a family, if only for a short time. 

Noah entered the hotel room. The second Blair’s eyes landed on him, and a look of relief washed over him. He quickly hugged Noah. 

“I was worried sick about you. I tried calling you,” Blair told him.

“I’m sorry. I just needed a moment. I had to get out. Matthew found me and brought me back.”

Blair pulled back from the hug. “Matthew? Noah, we’re together, and I should be the one doing those things for you—not him.”

“I didn’t ask for his help. He just showed up, Blair.”

“And you didn’t send him away. I get that you two have a deep history, but how are we supposed to build something if he’s always around?”

“We’re moving to London in a few weeks. He won’t be around.”

“You sure you want to go,” he asked.

“Yes. You are my future, Blair.”

“Take off your fucking clothes. Right now.” It came out of Blair’s mouth with a subtle aggression that was equal parts hot, intimidating, and arousing. 

Noah began to strip, as did Blair. Blair’s body was absolute perfection. It was something he was proud of, and he had every right to be. His long, uncut cock was just as sexy as he was. Noah got on his knees and took Blair’s cock into his mouth. 

As he sucked his cock Blair grabbed the back of his head and fucked his throat. His jealousy over Noah and Matthew’s bond showed in his aggression. Noah didn’t complain. He enjoyed it, and Blair’s dick was a tasty treat that he never grew tired of having in his mouth. He licked Blair’s balls and sucked on his taint.

“Get on the fucking bed. On your stomach,” Blair demanded. 

Noah quickly got on the bed. Blair spread Noah’s legs. He stood there stroking his cock as he admired those dark cakes. His mouth watered at the thought of always having Noah. 

“You’ve been naughty with your time. I’m not gonna eat your pussy. It better get wet from my cock,” he said as he slapped his cock in his hand.

He climbed on top of Noah and eased his cock inside of him. Noah let out a loud groan as Blair’s dick moved through his entire body. Blair rested on top of Noah and bit his neck. He slowly began to work, his lower hips moving in and out of him. 

His strokes were slow and deliberate. He pulled all the way out and then slammed his cock back inside of Noah. He repeated it over and over again. Each time he bottomed out in Noah, he could feel his ass becoming wet. Blair started to pick up the pace of his strokes. 

Noah moaned out, “It’s so fuckin’ deep inside of me.”

Blair wrapped his arm around Noah’s neck and fucked him harder. He pushed his dick deep inside of him. His pubes were resting against Noah’s backside, and then he forced himself ever deeper. Noah cried out and gripped the covers, and his body clenched. Blair took that as a sign to keep going, and he did. 

“Give me what I want. Open this pussy for me.” His words came out like a wolf.

There was no stopping him. He fucked Noah harder. He made Noah look at him. They kissed as he started pounding him. The clapping of their skin coming into contact bounced off the walls in the room. His tongue swirled in Noah’s mouth. 

Noah’s ass felt stretched, abused, and good. Blair was making him feel things. He started throwing his ass back. Noah made it bounce back hard and fast, and that excited Blair. He met Noah’s bounce with deep and powerful thrusts. He gave one after another. 

With every hard thrust, he asked but always commanded, “You. Not. Gonna. Make. Me. Feel. Insecure. Again.”

“Never again,” Noah screamed as he bit the pillow. 

“I fucking love you too much to be treated secondary,” he said as he slowed his strokes down. 

For several minutes they both just moaned as Blair fucked Noah’s gaping hole with the perfect strokes. It was such a hot experience for both of them. Their bodies were dripping with sweat, and they were both turned on. There was evident passion, affection, and aggression on display between both of them, so much so that Noah could feel Blair’s dick in his lower stomach. Blair’s dick felt like it was being absorbed by Noah’s body. 

Blair sucked Noah’s ear and said, “Show me you’re mine. Ride my cock like you love me.”

Blair rolled on his back. His long dick was standing straight in the air. Noah quickly hopped on top and eased down on the long glistening cock. Noah started to slowly bounce up and down it. He leaned down and shoved his tongue in Blair’s mouth, and rode his dick to kingdom hall. 

“Oh fuck,” Blair shouted. “Ride me just like that.”

Noah moaned and bounced. Every so often, he would roll his hips and make the muscles in his ass roll around Blair’s cock. His ass was dripping wet. Blair ran his strong hands all over Noah’s body. His dick was deep inside of him. Noah reached back and gripped Blair’s balls. 

“This what you wanted,” Noah asked as he made his ass twitch around Blair’s cock.

Blair screamed out, “God, yes. FUCK!”

The bouncing grew more intense. The once sturdy bed began to squeak from their raw passion. Noah worked Blair’s cock like a powerhouse bottom. His hard cock was bouncing and flopping down and down as he rode Blair.  His skills always left Blair in awe. He had Blair moaning loud and falling deeper in love. 

Blair felt he was about to cum. He rolled them over, and Noah ended up on his back. He rammed his cock deep inside of the hot, wet, tender hole. He stroked Noah slow and easy. Each time his dick came out, it was covered in fluids. Noah stroked his hard dick as Blair fucked him like he was the only man in the world. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Blair,” Noah moaned.

He moved in and out of Noah’s hole, giving him fierce strokes. Blair spread his legs even wider and began to hammer his hole. Noah snatched Blair’s glasses off his face and tossed them across the bed.

Noah panted and said, “Fuck me like Superman, Kent.” 

Superman activated, and he fucked Noah like a hero. He moved faster and harder in him. His balls pounded Noah’s backside. He’s moving his body in the fastest but most exotic way. His dick started hitting all these wonderful places and spots inside of Noah’s ass. It was crazy, wild, and intense. Blair’s dick was pounding Noah’s prostate.

Noah cried out, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Shoot that shit. Give it to me,” Blair demanded.

Noah’s cock erupted. The cum flew from his dick like a rocket blasting off into space. Cum covered his abs and chest. His ass constricted around Blair’s cock and pulled the nut straight from his body. 

“Oh fuck. I’m about to fucking cum in you,” Blair screamed. 

His body went rigid. He released rope after rope of hot cum deep inside Noah’s bowels. The release was powerful. Blair kissed Noah once more. 

“I love you, Noah,” he said as he rested his forehead against Noah’s.

Breathlessly, Noah said, “I love you too, Kent.”

Matthew was sitting at the hotel bar. Bev came and took a seat next to Matthew. They both cut their eyes at one another. There was some tension and animosity between the two of them. 

“What do you want, Bev,” Matthew asked. 

She answered a question with a question, “Is that any way to talk to an old friend?” 

“Friend,” Matthew asked baffled. “We aren’t friends. You ruined that a long time ago.”

“Yet, he still stayed by your side. You got everything you wanted, Matty,” she said as she touched his face.

Matthew knocked her hand away, “Don’t touch me. You can’t blame me forever, Bev. We both are to blame.” 

She angrily responded, “Both? Are you serious? You left me for a dude. What was I supposed to do? You know he really hates you for that affair you had. Blair told me some of the things he said. It must make you sick to your stomach that Blair ended up with him in the end. The karma is so fucking beautiful, Matthew.”

“Why are you here right now, Bev?” Matthew asked. “What’s your end game?”

“To tell you to stay away from Noah. He’s with my brother, and they are happy. You don’t get to keep hurting us. You don’t get to run off into the sunset.”

“The audacity of you. The last time you got in between me and Noah, he tried to kill himself. Haven’t you learned your lesson?”

“Then don’t make me tell him everything he doesn’t know. Stay away from them. This is your first and only warning.”

She stood up from the table and gathered her things. She gave Matthew one final look of disdain, and she walked away. He knew that Bev held all the cards. She knew things that he couldn’t risk getting out. 

September 2027

Matthew’s grand opening of Monty’s was going well. The place was packed and full of people. Noah had moved to London with Blair a few weeks after the funeral, and MJ had stayed in the States to finish college. Things were going well, but Matthew had kept his distance from Noah. He didn’t even invite him to the grand opening. MJ was going to perform a song that night and had told Noah about it. 

Noah had been in the States for a few days, handling the sale of his mother’s plastic surgery business. So, he decided to see MJ perform. Blair had not been able to get the time off from work, and Lola was doing a summer program in London. “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus was playing.

Terrick, Trevor, Zane, Crispin, and Nick were all standing near the bar with Matthew. He was happy to finally get his life back on track. Last September, he had just gotten his memories back, and this September, he was living comfortably in his old skin and life again.

Crispin asked, “Did you invite him?” 

“No, he made his choice. Besides, I can’t really come back from that affair. He kinda hates us all.”

Nick shook his head and pointed, “Well, someone invited him.”

Noah entered, looking like a bombshell. His energy demanded everyone’s attention, and he got it. He looked refreshed and radiant. His curly hair had grown back even longer following his surgery.  MJ spotted his dad and quickly went over and greeted him. 

“Dad, you made it,” MJ said. He wrapped his arms around him.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. My son is performing for the first time in a nightclub—every parent’s wildest dream,” Noah said playfully.

“I’m glad you’re here. I really want to discuss something with you and Pops.”

“Well, you find him and let me know,” Noah said.

“You don’t want to speak to the uncles? They’re here.”

“Not today. Not ready to face it all.”

MJ grabbed Noah by his hand and pulled him across the club. Noah didn’t even bother to argue or fight with his son. Noah came face to face with everyone. They wanted to speak but weren’t sure if they should. They had all played a part in keeping the affair a secret after Noah had repressed the memory of it, and he was having a hard time forgiving and moving on from it. 

“Pops, I need to talk with the both of you,” MJ said.

The three of them were in the back office. Their love for MJ kept them civil with one another. He was a combination of the two of them. MJ personified the best parts of them both.

“I love you both, and I wanted to do something that honors our family and makes me happy. I petitioned the courts to legally change my name to Spencer Josiah Montgomery-Colby. Everyone has the same last name but me: Matthew Montgomery-Colby, Lola Montgomery-Colby, and Noah Montgomery-Colby. I’ll still answer to MJ, but I want to honor all three of my parents. I hope you guys are okay with that.”

Matthew beamed, “Son, as long as you’re happy. I mean, I love that you have our last names.” 

“MJ, I want you to be happy. If this makes you happy, go for it. Luka would be proud. I wish you had said something to me before you started the process. Blair asked me to marry him. I said yes. My name is going to change, and so is Lola’s. He wants to adopt her as his child. So we’ll be Montgomery- Sinclair.”

Matthew felt his heart sink. The very idea of Noah dropping his name crushed him in more ways than he cared to admit. 

“Are you serious? Why do you have to take his name? It’s so clear that you and pops belong together. He came back from the dead, and so did you. Like, I don’t get it. You’re both alive, and you’re fucking up, making us a family. Just talk and work it out.”

MJ stormed out of the room. There was silence for a moment, and then Noah and Matthew looked at one another and smiled.

“That’s your son,” they said at the same time. They chuckled, and for a second, it felt like old times between the two of them.  

Matthew wanted to say something, but before he could, Noah walked out of the room. MJ wasn’t done trying to get his parents together. He was the first act of the night. At the very last minute, he changed up his set. He took the stage and began to do a cover of “You” by Jesse Powell. 

The song was not lost on Matthew and Noah. It was the song they made love to for the first time at prom. MJ had read the book and knew just what the lyrics meant to them. 

“I think my nephew is trying to make a point,” Trevor said.

Nick said, “Just go pull him on the dance floor. What’s he gonna do make a scene? Don’t answer that I heard the question. 

Everyone laughed because they knew Noah could cause a scene given the right circumstances. Noah looked across the room, and his eyes found Matthew’s. He smiled at him, and Matthew smiled back. Matthew wanted more than anything in the world to be with Noah. He panicked and walked off. He ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. 

“Damnit, Matthew, get it together. You owe this to MJ and yourself. Go get your husband back. Come clean about everything and remind him of who you guys are.”

He walked back out, but he didn’t see Noah. A new act was on the stage, and they were performing a cover of the song “Say Something” by A Great Big World.

“He left. If I were you, I’d head to JFK right now. Go get our boy and bring him back home,” Zane whispered. 

Matthew ran out of the building. He looked around, and there was no sign of Noah. He flagged down a taxi. It was the longest ride of his life. Across town, Noah was walking through his brownstone. The place was empty now that MJ had his own apartment. He wandered through, just taking in the old comfort it provided of a life he once lived. 

The taxi was stuck in a line of cars trying to pull up to the drop-off point. He couldn’t wait any longer. He tossed the cab driver $100 and jumped out of the cab. He started running.

“Monty,” he shouted as he ran. Hoping that, by some miracle, Noah would hear him. 

He entered the airport. It hit him then that he had no idea what airline Noah would be flying with. He knew Delta was his preferred choice, so he went to check and see if they had any flights leaving for London. 

By some sort of weird coincidence, the airport was playing “Say Something” as well. Matthew purchased a ticket and ran to the security check-in. The line was long. He was anxious and feeling nervous. He couldn’t risk missing him. He jumped to see if he could see Noah.

He shouted, “Monty!” 

“Sir, you can’t scream like that,” a TSA agent said.

He screamed, “MONTY!”

“Sir, I will not say it again.” The agent was beginning to become upset.

“I’m sorry, but I am trying to win my husband back,” he shouted. “He’s gonna get on a plane to London, and I’m gonna lose him forever. I’m trying to fix what I fucked up. MONTY!”

By some act of God, people moved out of the way and allowed Matthew to pass through security. The moment he was through, he ran down the terminal screaming out Monty. 

He made it to the gate where the flight would be departing, but Noah wasn’t there. He found an empty seat and sat down. He was out of ideas. He didn’t know where to go or what to do anymore. 

***

All the way in Boston, Ishmael was sitting down at Union Oyster House at a table for two. Bev took a seat at the table. She didn’t seem to be happy with being there.

“You know how I don’t like using all my flyer miles to come to Boston,” she said. 

Ishmael smiled and said, “Well, I wanted to see you face-to-face to make sure you don’t lie to me.” 

“What do you want,” she asked.

“When I met you at the hospital, I thought you looked familiar. Anyway, I was going through old photos and videos I took with Matthew or Greg, as he was called at the time. I was healing myself and then I came across a video we took one day about two years into his life here. We were at Park Street Church doing the Freedom Trail. This woman was screaming, “Matthew.” Imagine my surprise when I realized I had her on tape, and she was no other than you. You’ve known for years that he was alive; if you knew, that means Blair knew as well. So, I have to ask, Bev why didn’t you tell his family or his husband?”

She laughed, “Before I answer that, let me ask you something. Do you want him back? I can make it happen.”

The Distant Future 

Noah sat in the chair dressed in the white tux with the black trim. As he gazed at his reflection he couldn’t help but look back over his life. The road hadn’t been easy but he made it to the other side finally. Every decision made and every tear cried had all been worth it in the end. He was finally happy! He was just happy in love but he was happy with himself. It had taken a long tie but he had finally found the happiness in himself and he could finally breathe again. 

There was a knock at the door. The door opened and MJ slipped inside the room. He smiled at his father. Noah gave him a warm and loving smile right back. MJ walked over and placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder. 

MJ asked, “Are you ready to get married today?”

“I am. I’m doing it on my terms this time and I’m finally happy,” he answered. 

“Are you sure this is what you want? Most importantly, are you sure he is who you want?” 

Noah took hold of MJ’s hand and said, “I’m sure. I’m happy and I’m in love. There are no blinders or illusions. For the first time I can say without any reservations that I am with who I am supposed to be with.” 

Noah’s Voice-Over: I said it in the beginning and I’ll say it again. I always dreamed of what my life would be like. I lived, nearly died, and lived again. I found peace and understanding in all things. I found a love that’s perfect for all my imperfections. After all the hurt I’m finally healed and ready for my happily ever after however that looks. 

September 2027

Matthew had been sitting in the chair for an hour. He had to accept defeat. He stood up and was about to leave, and that’s when he came face-to-face with Noah. His heart dropped. He thought he had missed his chance. Noah couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Matthew said, “I don’t know what else to say or do, Monty. Say something. Say anything. I don’t want to give up on us.”

It looked as if the stars had perfectly aligned for a reunion. They were two souls always passing in the night looking for a place to just be madly in love. Was it finally their time?

Noah exhaled, “Were you ever going to tell me it was Blair?”

Matthew’s heart sank. His darkest secret and the second biggest regret of his life was thrown in his face. He had an affair years ago with Blair. He never told Noah who he had cheated on him with. Blair and Matthew vowed to keep that between themselves. 

“Well, say something, Mathew.”

With those words, everything faded to black. Like I said before, repressed memories, when recovered, can bring up so much hurt, and that unprocessed hurt is bound to always keep resurfacing. So, go ahead and breathe again because I’m about to break your heart now!

THE END!

© Grayson Rose 2025. All rights reserved.

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This concludes vol 2.  The third & final epic vol is coming!  1st love vol 3:Heartbreaker Arrives on gaydemon winter 2025!!  P.s. it’s more than 12 chapters!