Author: admin

I never imagined a laid-back Thanksgiving weekend could turn into something so charged, so irrevocably twisted, but it unfolded step by step, each moment building on the last until there was no turning back. I’m 22, home from college, kicking back in Dad’s cozy split-level house with him and Uncle Frank—Dad’s older brother by three years.

Dad’s 46, the classic blue-collar guy: solid from warehouse shifts, with a hairy chest, a noticeable beer gut that softens his frame, and those strong, callused hands that fixed every broken thing in my life. Uncle Frank, 49, is cut from the same cloth but weathered more—a retired mechanic with gray-streaked hair, faded tattoos snaking up his arms, and a deep, rumbling voice.

They’d been my anchors growing up, stepping in after Mom split: weekend barbecues, garage tinkering, life lessons over fishing lines. But since figuring out I was gay, my mind had wandered to forbidden places—fantasizing about them naked, Dad’s thick cock hanging heavy post-shower, water tracing his veiny shaft; Uncle Frank stripping off a greasy shirt, his girthier bulge outlined in boxers. Those thoughts always hit me hard, leaving me stroking in secret, guilt mixing with the rush.

It was Saturday evening, the living room lit by the glow of an old Western on TV, the air smelling of reheated turkey and cold beer. We’d been swapping stories all afternoon, the three of us on the couch with a six-pack dwindling. Uncle Frank, always the storyteller, launched into one about their teen years. “Remember that lake trip, bro? Crammed in that shitty tent. Got bored as hell one night and ended up jerking off together—comparing dicks like it was a contest.” He laughed it off, but his tone had an edge, eyes flicking to Dad and then me.

Dad shifted, chuckling awkwardly but not shutting it down. “Yeah, dumb kid stuff. We were curious idiots back then.” No immediate reaction from him—just a nostalgic grin. But the story lit something in me, those fantasies surging: young versions of them, cocks out in the dark, stroking side by side. My own jeans felt tighter, and I crossed my legs to hide it. “You guys seriously did that?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked a bit.

Uncle Frank nodded, taking a swig. “Once. Felt wrong even then, but hey, brothers experiment.” Dad rolled his eyes. “Don’t glorify it, Frank. We shouldn’t be yapping about this now.” The room felt warmer, the air thicker with unspoken tension. I couldn’t let it drop, the curiosity burning. “So… who won? Who was bigger?”

Dad barked a laugh, puffing up. “Me, hands down. Always the bigger brother.” Uncle Frank scoffed.

“Bullshit! I had you beat—thicker and longer. Still do, probably.” They bantered back and forth, the challenge hanging like a dare. Dad stood up, stretching casually. “Prove it, old man. Let’s settle this for real—like old times, but no funny business.” Uncle Frank rose too, smirking. “You’re on. Kid can be the judge.”

My heart pounded—this was crazy, but the beer buzz and my hidden fantasies pushed me along. We headed to Dad’s bedroom for “privacy,” the door shutting softly. They unzipped first, dropping jeans and boxers matter-of-factly. Dad’s cock flopped out: seven inches soft, thick with a slight upward curve potential, veiny even flaccid, nestled in dark pubes. Uncle Frank’s was girthier, seven and a half soft, straight and heavy, balls low and fuzzy. Seeing them naked hit like a gut punch—realer than any dream, their dad bods familiar yet erotic: hairy chests, soft bellies, the musky scent of men filling the room. No one was hard, but the exposure alone stirred me.

“Your turn, nephew,” Uncle Frank said, nodding at me. I hesitated—this was family, we shouldn’t—but stripped, my cock already half-chubbed from the sight. We stood close, comparing visually at first: lengths, girths, debates over curves and veins. “See? Mine’s thicker,” Uncle Frank claimed, giving his a casual tug to “fluff” for fairness. Dad did the same, and that’s when it started—innocent adjustments turning to slow strokes as blood flowed.

“We really measuring like this?” Dad muttered, but his hand kept moving, his cock thickening, veins bulging. Uncle Frank’s swelled too, the room heating up. My own went full hard, leaking pre-cum, the air electric.

Touches came next—reaching out to “feel” for comparison, Dad’s rough palm wrapping my shaft first. “Damn, son… you’re packing nice.” The contact jolted me, hot and wrong.

I grabbed his, feeling the heat, the pulse, stroking tentatively. Uncle Frank joined, his thicker fingers on Dad’s, then mine. “This is fucked up,” Dad whispered, but pumped Uncle Frank anyway. Moans slipped out, the circle jerk building—sweaty palms gliding, pre-cum slicking things up. Guilt gnawed, but the thrill overrode it: jerking my dad and uncle, their cocks throbbing in my hands.

Uncle Frank dropped to his knees, eyeing my dick. “Let me taste… just to see.” Before I could protest, his mouth engulfed me—warm, wet suction, tongue swirling the head. “Frank, we shouldn’t—” Dad started, but watched hungrily, stroking himself. I moaned, the sensation overwhelming. Dad joined soon, kneeling beside, his beard scratching as he licked my balls. “This is wrong… but fuck, son.” They traded off sucking me, then each other—brother on brother, the sight searing: Dad deep-throating Uncle Frank, gagging softly.

From there, it snowballed. They laid me back, Uncle Frank’s fingers lubed, probing my hole. “Relax, kid.” One finger burned, then pleasured; two stretched, scissoring; three had me begging. Dad watched, jerking us both. “Shouldn’t be prepping my own boy… but you want more, don’t you?” I nodded, lost in the build.

Uncle Frank fucked me first. Dad positioned me on my back, folding my legs back to my chest, gripping them wide—opening me fully. “Gotta hold ya back so you can feel your uncles whole cock,” Dad said, voice thick, eyes fixated on the intimate view, his cock dripping at the sight of his older brother’s girth pressing in.

The entry was slow, deliberate—the blunt head breaching, stretching me wide with a sharp burn that made me gasp, tears pricking. “Easy, nephew… breathe through it,” Uncle Frank coaxed, inching deeper, his thickness forcing my walls to yield, veins dragging hotly inside like ridges of fire. Once buried, balls against my ass, he held, letting the fullness settle—a deep, throbbing pressure that bordered pain but bloomed into ecstasy as I adjusted.

He started thrusting shallow at first, the drag out leaving me empty and craving, the push back stuffing me full, his girth rubbing every nerve. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto my chest as he built rhythm—deeper now, hips snapping with wet slaps, his belly brushing mine. Each stroke hit my prostate like lightning, sparks zipping up my spine, my toes curling. “Fuck, so tight… shouldn’t feel this good,” he grunted, pace quickening, the bed creaking under us.

Dad held my legs firm, leaning close, his breath hot on my skin. “Look at you taking your uncle… pound him harder, Frank. Give my boy what he needs.” The words fueled the fire, Dad’s eyes devouring the slide—his brother’s cock pistoning in and out, slick with lube, my hole clenching around it.

They switched after minutes that felt eternal—Uncle Frank pulling out with a wet pop, leaving me gaping and needy. Dad took his place, his curved cock sliding in easier now, the angle perfect for grinding my spot. “My turn, son… we really shouldn’t, but fuck.” He thrust slow and deep at first, savoring every inch, his veiny shaft dragging exquisitely, building heat in my core. Sweat poured off him, mixing with mine, the room reeking of musk and sex. He sped up gradually, slamming harder, balls slapping my ass, his gut pressing rhythmically against me—intimate, overwhelming. “Feel Daddy owning you? So wrong… so perfect.”

I moaned incoherently, the fullness addictive, every plunge sending waves of pleasure crashing.

Dad pulled out of my gaping hole and got behind me, refolding my legs to give his brother the perfect angle. “Finish him off, bro—breed my son’s ass.”

Uncle Frank re-entered with a groan, the re-stretch intense but slicker now, thrusting with abandon—long, powerful strokes that had me seeing stars, his girth churning me open relentlessly. The pressure coiled tight in my balls, but he hit the edge first—thrusts erratic, burying balls-deep. “Oh god—cumming!”

Dad egged: “Yeah, give him your cum! Breed my son, Frank—fill him up!” The flood hit: swelling first, then scorching jets, thick and creamy, pulsing warm against my walls in wave after wave—viscous heat coating everything, soothing the sore stretch, excess leaking sticky down my crack as he rutted through it.

Uncle Frank withdrew panting, cum dribbling from my hole. Dad wasted no time, pushing my legs back wider. “Look at that creamy mess… gonna push it back in.” His cock nudged the slick entrance, thrusting in and forcing the leaked seed deeper—the sensation filthy, extra-warm slipperiness heightening every drag.

“Feel Uncle’s load slurping around Daddy’s cock? Making you all wet and bred.” He fucked with purpose now, starting slow to churn the mix, the squelch obscene and erotic, building to a punishing rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that had his curve nailing my prostate over and over, sparks exploding nonstop. Minutes dragged in blissful agony: sweat flying, his hairy chest heaving, grunts syncing with mine. He varied—slow rolls to tease, then hammering fast, the bed shaking, his balls smacking wetly. “We crossed every line… but I can’t stop, son. Your ass is mine.”

His pace faltered eventually, breaths ragged. “Fuck—gonna cum… here it comes.” He pulled out abruptly, cock gleaming with Uncle Frank’s cum—thick white strings clinging to the veins, musky and shiny. Straddling my chest swift, he tapped the head on my lips. “Open, boy—taste your uncle while I feed you my load. I wanna see your mouth full of your daddy’s cum.”

I parted in haze, the depravity peaking. His cock filled my mouth, heavy and hot—the taste slamming: Uncle’s cum salty-bitter with tangy musk from my ass. Dad thrust shallow, erupting—his load blasting ropes onto my tongue, thicker and sweet under the salt, mixing in floods that forced me to swallow. I gulped, unbelieving—devouring Dad’s essence, the man who raised me, tainted with his brother’s, flavors blending in overload, my body shuddering.

We collapsed tangled, breaths slowing, their hands gentle in afterglow. “That was… too far,” Dad murmured, but pulled me close.

Uncle Frank nodded. “Wrong as sin… but family bonds, right?” Cum leaking, tastes lingering, guilt creeping in—but the heat lingered stronger, those fantasies shattered by the raw, escalating reality.

After dabbling with neighbors in high school I decided I would leave that behind in college.  In hind sight it was not a sound decision.  I was worried I would get labeled in the days when being gay was not acceptable.  I did have a positive body image.  I had thinning blond hair and an extremely hairy chest.  A nice bit of pubic hair and 5” of cock with a nice cut head.  In those high school days and experiences guys seemed to appreciate it and I was fond of looking at guys equipment, touching their balls and jacking their dicks.  My resolve to give up these desires came one night during a sleepover with my one friend I did everything with that summer.  He implied he knew of some of my activity with two brothers who had moved out of the neighborhood.  He suggested we show each other our weenies and see what happened.  I lied and said I wasn’t interested, rolled over and that was that.

Flash forward to the small private college I attended as a freshman.  I started my studies majoring in music, a piano major.  There were about 49 guys on my dorm floor with one communal bathroom and open showers (this was standard in the 70’s).  I tried to keep my eyes to myself but when I saw an uncut penis for the first time I looked!  I became more comfortable with the guys on the floor and wondered whose dick I would see next time I showered.  One guy, George, told me as I wore a bathrobe to the shower  “Its Ok you dont have to wear that, I’ve seen you naked.  One day when seated on the toilet I had a good view of the space where George toweled off.  He could sense me looking at him and he took his time letting me see everything he had to offer.  His crotch was almost as hairy as the big mop of black hair on his hear.  As I flushed George emerged clad in his towel and almost ran into to me.  We started a conversation about a class assignment and he said “Come into my room and I’ll show you what I have completed already.”  I followed him into his room.  He took his time getting dressed, but first he took off his towel, leaned over and dried each one of his his toes.  While he did this I got a great view of his ass.  He turned around and said “I don’t mind being naked in front of you”..We then talked more about the assignment but there was sexual tension.  I didn’t know how to make the first move, and he seemed to be content having me watch him.  But that’s all that happened but after that he seemed to sense when I might shower and liked looking at me.

After Freshman year I changed my major and transferred to a cheaper State University.  The dorm I was in had ywelve guys in the suite I occupied.  The showers were more discreet but I caught glimpses especially of Mac whose cock was long, skinny, and flopped when he was towling off.  I had a variety of roommates and one in particular slept naked.  Later after we changed roommates he came out to me but we never had a long conversation about it and in hindsight I knew he wanted something to happen between us but it never did.  I had a steady girl the only time we did anything was when she gave me a blowjob after I took her to a John Fenver concert at the field house.

I let my guard down once my senior year.  I liked to study in the library, particualarly on Friday nights.  It was quiet and the were tables in out of the way places in the stacks.  It was also convenient to the men’s room where the was a long trough urinals, the kind you used at the ball park.  I went there to relieve myself and another guy was pissing.  He took his time zipping up and I got a good look at his cock.  He noticed, looked me in the eye and left.  I went back to my study table and soon after he was there.  He went between two shelves where I could see him clearly, his cock was out and seemed to be getting harder.  He zipped up when he saw that I was interested.  He walked over and said.  “We might be able to have fun at my appartment if you meet me outside in five minutes”. I gathered my books and nervously left the library.  He was waitig in the quad and invited me to follow him to his place which just oof-campus close by.  He told me he had roommates but they had left for the weekend.  I nervously went with him and when we arrived I entered and he led me to his bedroom.  “Lets get more comfortable” and we stripped off our clothes.  I loved seeing all of him and my cock was rock hard.  “I want to give you the best blow-job ever” and he began to demonstrate his skills.  As I was still nervous, despite the stimulation it took me a while to cum.  He stroked himself as he sucked.  He swallowed my load and I was quite sensative at that point.  The phone rang and got up to answer it but not before telling me to stay put.  I lay on his bed naked and my first instincts to dress and leave but I didn’t.  When he fished his call I was still hard and he said “I never waste a good hard on.  I could suck you again, but lets shake thing up.  Have you ever fucked a guy?”  I told him no.  “Well you need to experience that!”  He lubed himself up and sat on my cock.  This was the pre-atdes era, so we did not use a condom.  His ass was warm and tight.  He got used to the head of my cock and moved up and down and all of it was inside him.  The feeling was sensational and I was glad I just shot a load.  I had stamina as we shifted into various positions.  His hole was tight and his legs and ass hairy, one of my favorite combination.  He told me to pick up the pace as he started to jerk his cock.  I could tell I. Was hitting the spot that gave him the most pleasure.  As his ass muscles tightened signaling his orgasm, that was enough to have my cock expand a show load number two.  As we wound down I thanked for the experience.  He offered me a wash cloth to clean up, I got dressed and left returing to my dorm room.  The usual guilt took over but I replayed what happened.  Would I ever become comfortable with this part of my sexuality?

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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This story is a long, multi-chapter male-pregnancy story, in world where that happens. 

My son Braden brought in a couple of beers – I’d been cutting back and was on a fitness kick, but this felt like a special occasion. But as he set them down on the side table he knelt down in front of the couch, his thick muscle filling out his black T-shirt and jeans. 

I had a good idea what was going to happen. “Um, Brade… this is supposed to be YOUR homecoming,” I said.

My son looked up at me. He had a killer smile, and some gorgeous looks he’d partly inherited from his mother, fair haired, ruddy complected, cute dimples. The square jaw, roman nose, and brown eyes were mine, though. 

“It is, Dad,” he said. God, somehow his voice had gotten deeper during his deployment. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” His hands reached forward and undid my belt then the button of my khakis. 

“You sure, buddy?” I asked. We’d moved past the furtive, guilty phase, but this was incest, and I was always looking for a way to put the breaks on things with Braden. 

“Sure, I’m sure, Dad.” His fingers skill fully peeled down my briefs and pulled out my growing dong. I topped out at 7 and a half inches, and very thick. Braden had almost a carbon copy of my dick, just a smidge shorter, only I’d left his foreskin on. But he wasn’t concerned about pulling out his own meat. Instead, he examined my heft and pulled it toward him. “Sit back and let me take care of you.”

And like that my hunky Marine son started to give me a slow, loving blowjob.

***

I’ve made mistakes in life, God knows, but Braden wasn’t one of them. Even if he was the result an unplanned pregnancy – wouldn’t you know… my swimmers did the job the first time I got laid at 16. I did the right thing in marrying Susan, and we were a good team, at first. Me working full time even as I got my econ degree in college. And me somehow fitting in my CFA studying in between work and child care. 

Susan and I made it work, until it didn’t. There was no love and no sex, just a partnership in raising our kid. Braden was 8 when we divorced. The only bad part was seeing my son go through that, and visiting with him only on custody weekends and holidays. 

He rebelled in his teen years. Brade was good at sports, or more accurate to say that’s all he cared about. He refused to take school seriously, and the more I got on his case the more he actively resisted doing homework. Susan, god bless her, tried everything from punishment to incentives, but Braden was a solid C kid who failed sophomore English and had to do summer school. 

I was pissed as hell and tried to give him a tough love lecture. Tell him he was going to fuck up his future if he didn’t take school seriously. That was the first and last time Braden talked back to me. Calling me a dumb prick and a controlling asshole who wanted to be a parent only when I was in the mood to be. I was enraged, but I held it in. 

After that, it was like something shifted. Brade never became a star student, but he apologized to me. He opened up about his emotions, and we talked through them. I assured him I’d be better about being there for him. I could be a workaholic, since that was my way of dealing with divorce and realizing I was mostly gay. I finally told Braden that his dad was a homosexual and may at some point date another man. No time soon. I wasn’t sure what I expected but my surly jock son clasped in me in a tight hug. “Me, too, Dad,” he said. When he pulled back he was tearing up some. “I haven’t told anyone,” he said. “Don’t have the guts.”

That was an emotional connection with my son that I wasn’t expecting.

I still had a demanding job, but I made an effort to see all of Brade’s football games and to catch some of his practices too. And then, in Spring, catching wrestling meets. 

I’d been frustrated that my son was growing into a man very much the opposite of me. Then I came to love him for who he was. Custody visits stopped feeling like an obligation for him, and something he looked forward to. 

Our first kiss just happened. Maybe there was a little sexual tension there, but Braden and I were hanging out and eye contact grew and a spark happened between us. I leaned in just a little. Braden leaned in the rest of the way. He was nervous, and so was I. But our lust took over. The forbidden aspect made us insanely horned for each other. 

We made out and groped each other and stripped our clothes off. Right there in the living room, Braden made a beeline for my hard cock. 

“God, I’ve dreamed of this, Dad,” he whispered as he wrapped his fingers around the base and pulled it to his lips. “So much.”

“Buddy…!” I urged in a tone that let him know he didn’t have to do this. But that I wanted it.

It felt great. That was an understatement. It was the mind fuck of incest and the fantasy of seeing my jock son service me – all come to life. I wasn’t Brade’s first cock, I could tell, but he was still green. Innocent in his way. 

I warned him I was about to cum. He sucked harder and moaned. I watched my hunky son take my load and swallow every drop.

I could taste my cum in our kiss when he finally pulled off and I gripped his neck to pull him in toward me. 

“Let me do you, Sport,” I urged. I was very much in the receiving is better than giving category when it came to sex, and it turns out there was a good supply of men on Grindr who were happy with that arrangement. But Brade deserved some recip head from his Dad. 

That dick was a challenge, and I blushed at how much easier Braden had sucked my big cock than I was doing him. But it didn’t matter. I loved the taste of him and the knowledge I had my own son’s dick in my mouth. Pushing into my throat with each bob. 

Brade went wild. He came buckets. I did my best. 

As I finally pulled off and licked around his foreskin the best I could without overstimulating him, I heard him say simply and softly. “Thank you, Dad.”

***

I took Braden’s cherry the night before he shipped out to Basic Training. He didn’t ask me to, and I didn’t ask him if he wanted it. I just started rimming him, licking and feasting on his nearly hairless hole before I reached for the lube. As I locked eyes on him and slid one finger in and out, then two, then three, I knew Brade was ready. I wanted him so bad just then, but more than that I wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way before he went away. 

Lord knows I’d lectured him about using protection. Even if Braden was the light of my life, I didn’t want him facing an early pregnancy like I did as a teen. So I sheathed up my thick piece of dad meat before I slowly entered him. 

I could tell it stung, maybe a lot, but Brade was a trooper. Holding on to me. Feeling up the chest muscle he loved. Focusing on the act he’d dreamed of. Pretty soon, he was feeling it, the pleasure of bottoming. It’s something I’d tried only a couple of times before I realized I enjoyed topping a lot more. But Braden was getting very into it. His insides opened for me and his whole body seemed to receive the fuck, his thick athletic legs pulled back, his angelic face pleading with me as much as his deepening jock voice. “Fuck me, Dad!” he said aloud into private space of the master bedroom.

My hips began pumping for real. I’d never been so hard or so much in a sexual frenzy. I wanted this first time to last, but I knew it couldn’t, not with how worked up I was and how quickly Braden was approaching orgasm. His 7-incher throbbed and jutted off his crunched abs, leaking like crazy, then quivering like his voice. 

“Dad!” he hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. I was gonna get my Brade across the finish line to a hands-free cum.

I powered the last strokes with that goal. 

My son’s grip on my body grew tighter, an eagle talon’s grip, and his voice climbed to a high whimper. 

It was a glorious sight watching that teen cock shoot unaided, all over his body. I could smell the fresh scent of sperm and see the light of the lamp make the white splotches stand out more on his still largely smooth body. 

I’m the kind of guy who can’t cum with a condom on. But I came inside one while I fucked my son. The sensation and physical thrill was incredible, but mostly it was the idea that Braden was fully a man now. 

He loved watching me nut, and I could see a big smile sweep across his face, and a laugh came out of him. He was riding some major sex endorphins, too.

“Way to go, Dad!” he enthusiasm.

“Buddy…” I started. “Goddamn…” I reached down and held on to the rubber as I extracted my dick from my son’s ass. No longer vice tight I thought lewdly as I watched my condom-sheathed head clear the breach, a heavy reservoir of cum at the end. Fucking Brade had inspired one of my healthier cum loads.

My son’s eyes were on that bulbous tip. “Let me drink that, at least,” he urged.

Jesus. 

I nodded and scooted up in the bed, waving my still turgid dick in front of him. “Serve yourself, Sport.”

His fingers peeled at the rubber and gingerly tugged it off. He brought it to his lips and up ended, taking the semen into his mouth like a shooter. Braden moaned excitedly as he swirled my cum in his mouth before swallowing it. That alone was enough to keep me rock hard. 

Wide eyed, my son then discarded the spent condom and then turned back to take me into his mouth. 

“You’re too good to me, Sport,” I hissed.

***

I told myself it was sex. Fooling around of the naughtiest kind. My own goddamn kid. The only thing that kept me from feeling completely guilty is that Braden wanted sex even more than I did. Anytime he came home we found ways to get it on nonstop. Long slow sessions at night. Him giving me road head. Us sneaking into a bathroom stall for a quickie. I got a big box of Trojans and learned to carry a couple on me at all times. 

We had our first date night. And the next homecoming our first argument. We were still the odd couple, and Braden resented when I asked him what he wanted to do with his life after the Marines.

“You’re just mad I didn’t clear enlisting with you first,” he said bitterly. 

“Come on, Brade,” he said. But he was right. 

I was in the doghouse the next couple of nights, sleeping on the couch. Part of me resented the fact I was exiled from my bedroom, but the fact I considered it mine instead of ours – after all the ways Braden had given his body to me, after all the pleasure we’d had together – was part of the problem.

I apologized. A real apology, not a Bill half-assed apology. I told him I was in love with him.

My big tough Marine son melted at that. He got off of the kitchen stool and met me in a bear hug. “God, Dad. I love you so much. For real.” My son didn’t show emotion a lot, but he was better at it than me. I hugged back.

Then we kissed. A real lover’s kiss. A boyfriend’s kiss. Soft, sensual. I didn’t want that kiss to end, but it did.

“I’m gonna miss you bad, tough guy,” I said, running my fingers along his square jaw.

“I’ll miss you, too, Dad,” Braden said. “A lot.” His hand reached down to cup my crotch. I hardened up under his touch.

He gave a soft laugh. “You must think I’m some kind of nympho.”

“I think you’re perfect, son.” I ran my fingers along his T-shirt, eager to feel the hard flesh beneath. “And I’m grateful for every way you make me happy.”

Brade smiled but just took in the words. He looked down at my sweats, which were filling out big time with dad meat, getting harder by the second. “I’d so love to suck you off right now, Dad.”

“Why don’t you?” I asked, my voice croaking. I was getting very turned on now.

Braden’s brown eyes looked up into mine. “Cause it’s been three goddamn days since you’re fucked me, that’s why.”

We kissed, harder this time, and began stripping one another. I wanted this to be romantic, a slow screw in the master king-sized bed I’d been exiled from. Braden wanted to be bent over the kitchen table and taken like a whore with just a little cooking oil for lube. 

We did it Brade’s way. 

It was hot, crazy hot, and we’d gotten carried away. In my mind I knew we were fucking without protection. And given how much in heat my Marine son was, there was a good chance he was ovulating. But it felt so good being inside him raw. Intimate with my boy like this. My big hunky, muscled boy, taking my dick and asking for more. Calling me Dad as I railed him.

My Dad brain won out. I pulled out just before I came. I only had to give two tugs and I was firing out one of my biggest loads, all over his muscled back. Brade tried to wiggle his way back onto my but I held him apart. My son was definitely in full fertile heat. 

I pulled him up and kissed his neck as he went for his cum, my own semen cementing his back to my chest as I growled how fucking hot incest was. How I wanted to fuck my son every single day. I got a little rough in my fantasy talk. Not only did Braden not mind, the scenario I was describing got him to shoot big. I loved feeling him orgasm as I held his body. Not seeing his face but knowing the intensity of his cum from the way his muscle tensed and shook.

We came down from the sex high and laughed at how carried away we’d gotten. I patted his chest and nuzzled my face against him. “All right young man,” I said in a voice that was playful even as I meant every word. “You’re going on the pill.”

***

It was super hard to see him go off again. He had another year on his enlistment contract. I stayed off Grindr and all the apps. No hookups, no dates. Partly it was my desire to be faithful and monogamous with my son. None could compare to my Branden anyway.

My son made a show of pulling out his birth control pills when he was home next, setting him on the counter. 

“I’ve been taking them, Dad,” he said proudly.

I laughed, stepping up to him. “You didn’t think I’d trust you?”

He shook his head in a way that said maybe I didn’t trust him enough. “You know I’m crazy about you, sir, but you got some control issues.”

“Just wait till you’re a father,” I said. 

Brade got a serious look on his face. “You won’t let me be one.” His hand was now reaching down to cup my crotch. I’d learned to go commando whenever Braden was home, with just some shorts or sweats that could come off easily. So my son was now feeling a very hard piece of dad dick through some flimsy gym shorts.

My heart pounded. It had never occurred to me that Braden would want to get pregnant, especially that he’d want to be knocked up with MY kid.

“You think about that, buddy?” I asked, looking into his hunky-adorable face and his soulful brown eyes. God, I was so crushed out on my own son.

“All the fuckin’ time, Dad,” he replied. His fingers now slipped beneath the elastic band of my shorts to make contact with my hardon. The touch of his fingers was electric. 

He looked down briefly then back up at me. “I know you’re gonna lecture me about responsibility and being ready for parenthood.”

“Probably, yeah,” I replied. This idea was so crazy, and I needed to put the breaks on it. But my dick sure liked it. And Braden could tell.

“You like the idea, though,” he said. He was now frigging my dick as our eyes locked.

“I almost didn’t pull out before…” I said with a croak in my voice, getting majorly turned on. “When we barebacked.”

Our kiss was intense. And I heard Brade undoing his jeans and could tell he was shucking them down as he moaned into my mouth. He was crazy turned on when he pulled back, breathing heavy. “I wish you hadn’t,” he said with a half apology, then turned around. Between high school sports and Marine conditioning and plenty of leg day time at the gym, Braden had an incredible ass. Round, meaty, mostly smooth except for a dusting of light brown hair that got thicker in the crack. I’m not a religious man, but some god had given me a gift. 

Instantly, my hand was on his buns, feeling up that warm muscle. 

“I lubed up, Dad,” I heard his masculine voice say. 

I ran my finger into his crevice. Even before I got to his pucker, I felt the telltale viscous stickiness. It would be our first time with petroleum jelly. Turns out it wouldn’t be the last. 

I scooted up. I craved to have more foreplay time with Brade, but this wasn’t the time. I lined up my prick into the tacky gel and rubbed it around his hole with my cock head. 

“You took your pill today?” I asked. I wanted confirmation before entering him bare. But I also wanted to hold onto that idea of knocking him up.

“Yessir,” he hissed. He was backing up some, trying to get me into him. He wanted this. 

I reached around and held his body. Even through the T-shirt Braden’s chest was hard and warm. 

“And if you hadn’t… would you stop me from being inside you, like this?” God, I was getting carried away by the fantasy. Particularly as I pushed in, about a half inch of raw dad cock. 

“No, sir,” Braden replied. Then “Fuck yes!” as I breached him all the way. A homecoming fuck that felt more intense than the ones before. Almost more intense than taking his cherry.

It was awkward fucking standing up. I was a couple inches taller than Brade. But bent my knees a little, and Brade leaned over to brace himself on the wall as I pounded him. 

“Love ya, Sport…” I said as I fucked faster and deeper. Maybe it was in my head, but Braden’s ass had never felt so good.

“Love you, too, Dad. So fucking much.” His voice was needy now. 

The words were what I needed to hear as I pounded us both to a heavy climax. 

It took me a minute of the afterglow to realize Brade was crying.

“What is, buddy?” I asked with concerned. Jesus, if I’d gone too hard on the boy, I wouldn’t forgive myself. 

I could hear a laugh come through. “Just happy is all.. fuck! Sorry…”

I pulled him back against me tighter. My dick had slipped out and it all felt very lewd now that the act was done with. It only added to the emotional roller coaster we were both on. “Nothing to be sorry about. Let it out, Sport…. Guess it’s pretty intense dating your old man,” I said empathetically.

Braden nodded. “Pretty much,” he said. “It’s fucked up, right?”

I thought for a second. I mean, objectively it was. And yet… “Inside this house, inside these walls, it’s not fucked up, Brade. It’s what’s meant to be, OK?” 

He turned and looked at me with an emotional openness that melted me. I wasn’t good at this stuff. Relationship stuff, emotional stuff. But I knew I could assure my son in this moment. 

We kissed. Softly, like boyfriends. 

Then we cleaned up and talked, for hours. 

***

Braden was done with the active duty part of his contract and was living with me. Full time, day in, day out. It took some getting used to. I maybe had a loner thing going on, and it was hard to shift from the Dad role to the boyfriend role. And the honeymoon period of homecoming sex quickly wore off.

It came to a head one evening. I had to work late, later than normal, even. Brade had a dinner ready for me and plated it for us. 

I was still preoccupied with work, though I gave a quick thanks before digging in. 

Braden picked at his food but was sulking. Finally, he set down his fork. “I guess workaholic Dad is back now,” he grumbled.

I felt both chastised and pissed off. “Forgive me for making a living, Son.”

“It’s all you think about.”

“That’s not true,” I said sternly. 

Braden shook his head and went back to eating. Maybe he was right, but he was acting like a sullen teen again, goddamnit. And here I was the father who didn’t know how quite to handle that. 

I did make a point of thanking him again for the dinner and of doing the dishes. “Go kick back, Son,” I urged in my best contrite voice. Braden didn’t even reply but just got up and left the room. I guess it was silent treatment time.

I’d dried the last of the dished when Brade came in. 

“Sorry, Dad,” he said. 

I turned toward him. “Oh buddy… it’s me who should be sorry. You do all this work, and I come home late.”

I set down the dish towel and stepped toward him. He was stepping up to me, too. Our mouths met, hungry. This was gonna be me and Brade’s first time having make up sex. 

“Bedroom?” I asked. 

“Yeah, Dad.”

We were like kids jumping into a lake, rapidly stripping off our clothes and hopping on to the bed we now shared. His body felt amazing. I mean it always did but I craved the contact now. My hunky 23 year old stud in bed with me, his hardon battling mine as I started to roll him over. 

Only he stopped me. “Let me ride you, Dad. Please.”

“Pretty please?” I teased.

“Pretty please, sir. I wanna ride your cock.”

This was a fun change of pace, my lying back and having Braden lube up my thick cock before straddling me. The penetration was quick, too quick for my son, and he had to rise up before trying again. The second time was a charm and I watched my hunky stud sink down on my bone. 

I pumped up into him, but position equally allowed Brade to use his hips to work up and down my dick. It was magnificent, like a slow steady milking motion. 

“Fuck, Son… so good, buddy.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile. “I want it to be so good for you, Dad.”

“You have no idea, Sport.”

That increased his determination to ride me up and down. “I took my pill today… but if I didn’t…” he said with a lust-filled voice. 

I grunted. The idea was hitting me hard. We’d indulged some of this talk, but it was coming back even harder than before. “I’d feel a fertile ass riding me,” I answered.

Braden had to let go of his cock to keep from coming. “God, Dad… this turns you on too.”

“Damn straight it does, Sport. Fucking you… knocking you up…”

Even without stroking, Brade was getting close to cumming. “It’s my biggest fantasy, Dad. Having an incest baby with you.”

That tripped my trigger before I expected. I was fucking up into my son, but it was the mental shock as much as the physical sensation making me shoot a heavy series of cum shots into my son’s bowels.

I could sense Brade was imagining it fertilizing him. His voice quivered and his body flushed pink. And I watched his dick shoot out its thick cum as he bounced up and down hard onto my still spurting prick.

“FUCK!” he gasped. 

I patted his thigh. This was intense sex, for sure, and I was starting to return to normal. “Yeah,” I said. 

Braden eased off and slid down next to me, meeting me in a hot kiss. 

After we made out he lay his head on my chest. Like that night I took his cherry. Before he shipped off. Life has a way of coming full circle. 

His voice now seemed tentative. “Dad… you know I wouldn’t do that, right? Stop taking the pills without your permission?”

I patted his back muscle. “I know, buddy. It’s just talk… something to get us going.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Only if you ever decided it was right…” he said softly.

“I know, buddy. We’ll talk about it, OK.”

“OK.”

***

Like moths to a flame, we couldn’t avoid getting deeper into the pregnancy talk. It spiced up our time in the bedroom, then became our fixation during sex. No longer occasional, it became every single time that me and Brade talked about having kids. Me impregnating him, us imagining his body being transformed by our kid.

I occasionally opened the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom to check that Braden was still taking his pills. I felt bad that I didn’t 100 percent trust him. 

We tried to mix it up. Braden gave me more blow jobs. He became an expert at edging me, and that felt new and exciting. 

My son and I found our rhythm as a couple. Braden got used to my long work hours, and I did my best to make weekends about us. Brade would the first to point out that I wasn’t good at romance, but Sundays were Brade Day, when he’d choose what we’d do. I was a big saver when it came to money, but I learned to relax a little. For Brade Day, I’d buy tickets for to catch a baseball game or go see the nearby city football team’s home game. 

Sometimes for Brade Day, he’s choose to do something I wanted, which was usually playing golf. I’d object, but he insisted that relationships weren’t one-way things.

That stuck with me. I’d run through it all in my head why Braden and I couldn’t have kids, why we shouldn’t have kids. Incest was one thing, but having a child together was another. And the practical side of my personality was persistent. I knew raising a kid would cost money. I had it, but I wasn’t sure what job or career Braden had in mind for his future. If we’d be on the same page in our parenting. 

OK, my idle thoughts were no longer idle. 

It was fun surprising my son. It was Sunday morning, Brade Day, and it took him a while to notice. Even after his cup of coffee he was still groggy. 

“Um, Dad,” he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. “Have you seen my pills?”

I nodded, with my best poker face. “Yeah, Sport. I threw them in the trash.”

He was processing what I was saying. “You’re joking.”

I shook my head. “Nope. You can feel free to fish them out, if you like.”

“Oh fuck,” he hissed. 

This was like make up sex on steroids. Me and Braden embracing in a bear hug and then a hot kiss. Then fucking on the kitchen floor. 

I’d have felt bad if we’d conceived our son like that, but even lost in my fantasy I knew it would be a couple of weeks until Braden was fertile. 

But it was decided now: we were gonna have a kid together.

---

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The circus tent stood on the edge of town like a giant lantern—its colored fabric patched and faded, its flags shivering in the evening wind. I hadn’t planned to go. I’d seen the posters tacked to walls and lampposts, promising “A Night of Wonders,” and something about their quaint lettering and chipped stars tugged at me. Maybe it was boredom, or maybe nostalgia for the kind of spectacle that no longer fits our century.

Inside, the air was thick with sawdust, sugar, and the faint smell of kerosene. Children fidgeted, parents tried to look amused. The woman with the dogs went first—twelve little creatures in bows and bells, doing tricks as the brass band wheezed out a march. Then came a magician whose top hat looked like it had survived a war. He made paper birds fly, dropped one, pretended it was part of the joke. A pair of gymnasts spun on ropes, all poise and symmetry. Two clowns followed, tripping, honking, spilling a bucket of confetti over an unsuspecting child.

It was charming in its way, but not magic. Until the lights dimmed again and the ringmaster, sweating under his top hat, announced the final act: “The unparalleled art of the funambulist!”

Out of the dark rafters, he appeared. A thin figure, tall, almost skeletal in build, dressed in a black costume that swallowed light. For a second I thought he was a trick of the shadows. He stepped onto the rope—no net below—and the tent went silent. The music thinned into a low hum. He moved carefully, like someone crossing not a wire but a memory.

His face was young but tired, pale under the heat of the spotlights, hair dark and damp, brushing his cheek. Each step seemed to cost him something. Then he began to strip off the black cloth—first a sleeve, then a shoulder, then another strip falling into the sawdust below. Beneath it shimmered purple: a bodysuit tight as a second skin, dusted with silver sparks that caught every light. The effect was breathtaking—like watching something hatch midair.

By the time the last of the black fell away, he was glowing. He stretched his arms, the silver catching fire from the floodlights, and for a moment I thought he smiled. Then there was the sound—sharp, unmistakable—a gunshot. The rope trembled. He froze, staggered, and fell into the darkness below.  We heard a loud thud as his body hit the arena floor.

Gasps, then chaos. A child screamed. Someone shouted for help. My body went cold. I stared into the black void under the wire, sure I’d just seen a man die in front of me. The lights flickered out completely, and for a heartbeat, the whole tent seemed to hold its breath.

When the light returned, he lay motionless in the ring. The purple suit looked darker now, almost bruised. Then, impossibly, he stirred. He stood—slowly, shakily—and touched something on his chest. The color changed. The purple began to glow, bleeding into red, then orange, until the entire costume blazed like a living flame. A cloak unfurled behind him—thin rays of light and fabric forming wings. The air itself seemed to shimmer.

And then—he rose.

Guided by an invisible thin wire, he rose, swirling upward in that burning cloak, like the spirit of something refused, reborn. The crowd erupted in noises of fear, awe, and relief. But I couldn’t move. My throat ached. The act was too raw, too symbolic to be just circus magic. I saw it clear as day: the gradual reveal, the coming out, the murder, the rebirth. The death of a man for what he was, and his defiance—turning pain into flight.

When he descended again, now wrapped in a snow-white single piece cloak, he landed softly in the sawdust, and the applause went on forever. He was now an angel: the white cloak, we saw close up, was dusted with golden flakes… The performer bowed with a faint smile, the kind that never reaches the eyes. Even across the ring, I could see it—that loneliness, that private grief hidden beneath glitter and artifice.

I didn’t clap. I just watched, trembling a little. He stayed a moment longer under the light, then disappeared behind the curtain.

There were three curtain calls, like in a theater.  He looked almost happy, his eyes finally shone with his sad version of joy.  For the last call he did a beautiful solo dance on the sawdust in the center of the arena, and then “collapsed,” and was carried off.  The audience cheered for another five minutes.

When the crowd finally emptied the tent, I found myself walking toward the back, past the wagons and cages, toward the patch of tents where the performers lived. The ground was muddy, trampled, full of shadows. Somewhere among them was the man who had fallen and flown and told an entire story without words.

I wasn’t sure what I’d say if I found him. Maybe nothing. Maybe I just wanted to see if he was real.

A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and broad as a door. The strongman. I’d seen him earlier in the ring, lifting a woman in each arm like feathers. Now, without stage lights, he looked even more massive, his shoulders wrapped in a patched coat, his beard catching the glint of an oil lamp.

He noticed me instantly. “Show’s over, friend,” he said, not unkindly, but firm. “No visitors backstage.”

I stammered something about the funambulist, about wanting to thank him. My voice came out shaky, too high. “I just— I wanted to say how much it meant to me. The act. I… I think I understood it.”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “He doesn’t take visitors.”

I nodded, turned as if to go—and then the whole weight of the evening hit me. The wire, the shot, the fall, the impossible flight. The loneliness in that man’s face. Something cracked open inside me, sharp and hot. Before I knew it, I was crying, the sound low and ugly in my throat.

“I have to see him,” I said. “Please. Just for a minute. I won’t bother him. You can see it matters to me. I just need to know if—if what he meant was what I think it was. Otherwise I won’t—” I stopped myself before saying too much. Before saying who I thought he was speaking to.

The strongman shifted, uncomfortable. He scratched his beard, looked toward the line of tents, then back at me. Maybe he recognized something in my face; maybe he’d seen others come to the camp with the same tremor in their voice; maybe I, a gray-haired guy in a suit and expensive glasses looked like I meant it; maybe it was my tears.

He sighed, heavy and resigned. “Wait here.”

Then he turned and called into the darkness, his voice carrying like a bell.

“Marv! Someone’s to see you here.”

A sharp metallic voice replied, tense and tired: “Who?”

“I don’t know. He says he needs to talk to you.”

“Nah.”

The strongman turned to me.

“You heard him.”

“Please, sir, please talk to me,” I called into the dark air. “Please, it’s for me, I know you performed for me! It’s my life, too! Please!”

A big sigh reached me, and in a few seconds the tall thin man in a simple shirt and jeans stood before me.

He seemed terrified when he saw a man with silver streaks in his hair standing in front of him crying like a child.

“No, no, no,” he said hastily. “Don’t cry. You misunderstood. It all ends well!”

I heard such gentle care in his voice that my tears flowed even more freely.

“It’s about coming out,” I blurted out. “And the betrayal of a friend. And a murder; then resurrection and forgiveness, heaven, white clouds, a spirit. He was first black with sadness, then purple and sparkling when he came out, the red with blood, then he burnt like a phoenix and turned into a white spirit.  It’s all about me, too.”

I covered my face with my hands, and sobs filled the silence.

“Come,”, said Marv’s voice, his strong hand clutched my arm, and we started walking.

***

We sat in Marvin’s own caravan; not your big luxurious one with a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchenette.  It was a cramped trailer on wheels, little more than a bed and a dresser, with two rickety chairs around a folding table.  It smelled of sweat and loneliness.  Marvin sat in front of me and looked at me with his hands folded under his chin.  There was endless tenderness in his eyes.

“What’s your name, friend?” he asked quietly.

“Auguste.  But please call me Augie. And you’re… Marv?”

He laughed almost noiselessly.

“I am Marvin, please never call me Marv.”

“Okay, Marvin.”

Silence fell.

“You are different,” Marvin said.

“In what way?”

“When people come to see me, it’s to gawk,” Marvin said. “Look, Bernie, it’s that clown guy…”

“You are NOT a clown,” I said emphatically. “You are a funambulist.”

Marvin nodded.

“Oh, you even know the proper word,” he said and smiled. “Sure am.  Come from a circus family but my parents died in a car crash when I was three; I was in the backseat.  I don’t remember.  I grew up with Mel, the guy you saw who called me Marv; he is my sworn big brother.  His wife and his kids are my family… but you’re right, you’re right about my show. It’s about my coming out at first…”

“Gosh, I am afraid to ask about what came next,” I said.

“About the gunshot?” Marvin said quietly. “No, this part is artistic license.  But there was something else.  One time after a show…

***

…Marvin sat in his trailer when there was a knock on the door.  He jumped off the bed and opened the tiny lock because back then it was quite safe.  In the darkness there stood a blond man about his age.

“Good evening,” he said. “You are Marvin Hutchison, son of the Hutchison & Hutchison Duet, right?”

“Yes,” Marvin said cautiously. “And who are you?”

“I am Michael,” the man replied readily. “Michael Thorne.  I am from here, a local artist.  I was at your show today.  I just HAD to see you. I know what your show is about. It’s about coming out as gay.  There you are in the beginning, white as snow, and then you peel parts of you away beginning with the heart, and beneath is this bright blue smoothness, showing EVERY BIT of you.  And you celebrate.  And people applaud.  Lucky you to have such understanding viewers.”

Marvin invited Michael in.  After a shot glass of tequila, Michael told Marvin about his own coming out, how he was thrown out of the house by his religious mom and her third husband, how he lived in the shelter and how he learned to paint from another homeless guy, and how he discovered his talent.  Now he had his own gallery, and was quite happy… but still alone, still sad… and then he saw Marvin’s act, and he thought he had found a kindred soul.

That night—and it was a long night!–they had a lot to drink, and Marvin found himself getting closer and closer to Michael, and it felt warm and cozy, and Michael smelled so good… and then came the first kiss.

Marvin had never kissed a man before, so, without a word, Michael taught him.  First, he just brushed their lips, no pressure, only the soft hover of skin and shared breath. Marvin felt the tiny hairs around his mouth stand up, every exhale tasting of copper nerves and citrus tequila. He realized he’d stopped breathing—tight-rope habit, hold still, survive—until Michael’s thumb stroked his cheek and coaxed a trembling inhale that fanned back against his own lips. In that feather-light circle Marvin discovered kissing was balance, not force; the ground swayed like canvas in wind but he stayed upright, anchored only by the warmth drifting between them.

Next came the slow savor. Michael sealed their mouths properly, then eased the tip of his tongue along the closed seam of Marvin’s lips—once, twice—patient as a man testing ice. When Marvin uncertainly opened his mouth, Michael slipped inside just enough to tease the edge of teeth, then retreated, inviting pursuit. Marvin followed, tongue sliding shyly forward, meeting Michael’s in a slick, cautious slide. Then the kiss turned liquid, as if an ocean tide rocked the trailer. Marvin felt the wire walker’s instinct flip: lean into motion, trust the sway. His hands unclenched, found Michael’s shoulders, and let the rhythm teach him how surrender could keep him from falling.

Finally Michael nipped Marvin’s lower lip—quickly, decisively—soothed the sting with a firm press, then dove deeper. Lips sealed tight, he tilted Marvin’s head and claimed his mouth space in steady, thrusting beats, tongue sweeping the palate and the sensitive inner flesh before retreating to start again. The sound was obscene—wet clicks, soft groans—and each pulse rocked the old fold-out bench, the metal legs tapped Morse against plywood. Heat stormed Marvin’s spine; knees buckled, hips rolled forward without permission, seeking friction. He tasted his own heartbeat on Michael’s tongue, felt the kiss turn into a current that dragged him off the narrow line he’d walked all his life and spilled him, dizzy and alive, into open air…

Michael’s belt clattered to the floor, then jeans, and soon he was naked—a short muscled figure with tufts of blond hair on his chest, his thick log of a dick sticking forward over a tight dark sac.  First he was calm though insistent, then urgency took over—he yanked Marvin’s sequined top off, popped the button fly, dragged trousers and briefs down in one pull.  Lo and behold, there was Marvin’s dick: a shy two-inch nub nested in dark, damp curls. Michael stared, barked a single loud laugh that cracked the hush. “Well, look at this little tent peg,” he crowed, fingers pinching the soft shaft, giving it a rough tug upward. Each pull stretched delicate skin; pain sparked behind Marvin’s eyes, cheeks burning hotter than the bulb overhead. He wanted to vanish, to re-mount the wire and disappear into spotlight glare—but Michael kept tugging, half-tease, half-demand, and the sting mixed with a confusing pulse of heat that left Marvin breathless, caught between mortification and a traitorous flicker of want.

“Fucking hell, you are pathetic,” Michael said then. “And stinky. Shit, do you ever take a shower?”

“I had no time yet,” Marvin tried to explain. “We have just one shower, and we always let the girls shower first…”

Michael roared with laughter again. “Ha ha, and you call yourself a man with this little worm? Does it get any bigger?”

“It does,” Marvin said in a shaking voice. “I am just scared.”

“Scared?” Michael bent forward, picking up his pants with the briefs inside them. “Impotent, that’s what it’s called.”

“Are you leaving?” Marvin asked, his voice shaking.

“I can’t fuck a dirty guy with a tiny dick,” Michael said. “You are pathetic.”

“Wait some more,” Marvin implored him. “I’ll go take a shower in my turn at 10.30, and then I promise I’ll get hard. I will. I just need time. I like you… love you, Michael.  I just need time.”

Michael laughed, and then without warning his little sharp fist hit Marvin’s balls in a sharp upward kick.

“Beg me,” he said.

Marvin knelt and looked up at Michael’s sneering face.  He no longer looked attractive or understanding, just an evil laughing grimace. His hand closed around his dick, still hanging out, and he gave his erection no more than ten energetic pumps before…

“I beg you, please stay,” Marvin said. “I need you, I love you… I can’t be alone anymore.  It’ll get better…”

A blinding spurt of cum hit his face and made him gag.  Another arc blurred his vision.  Michael groaned and then gave him a severe box on the left ear.  The pain seared through his entire body, and Marvin collapsed sideways.

A zipper hissed.

“Please, please stay,” Marvin cried out, wiping Michael’s cum off his face, and trying to stop him from leaving.  On his knees, Marvin followed Michael all the way to the door. “Please, I beg you, don’t, don’t leave me!  Michael!!!”

The door squeaked, the cold air hit Marvin’s face.

He screamed so loud, lights came on in several other trailers. Ella the gymnast and Alex the clown found him in a dirt puddle outside his trailer, naked, dirty, shaken, still standing on his knees, screaming, wailing like a wild dog.  They didn’t need to ask what happened, Alex rushed with his flashlight to look for Michael but the darkness had already swallowed him…

Alex filled him with vodka to the brim of his throat until Marvin collapsed in a drunken stupor.  Ella stayed by his side all night.

***

“Fucking hell,” I said. 

Marvin was sobbing in my arms, and I was shaking from head to toe.

“You are so very strong, Marvin,” I said in a shaking voice. “You are a big strong man to carry on after that.  To come out like that in your show, to continue baring your heart like that. Fucking hell, man.”

My hand wandered to caress his head on my chest, and he hugged me around my waist.  He was no longer crying, listening to what I was telling him.

“You’ll find a nice man,” I said. “You’ll find a funny red-haired guy who will make you laugh. Yes, a circus clown, kids’ favorite, a sunny happy fellow who will love you till the end of time… Just open your eyes and keep looking…”

“You,” Marvin said.

“It can’t be me,” I said with regret. “I am also a peregrine.  I travel the world to study cultures, I can’t give that up, it’s the only thing I can do that brings some money.  And you live on the road… it can’t be me.  But I’ll be your friend.  Let’s write to each other and call each other. I’ll always be on your side.”

“Stay the night?” Marvin said tentatively.

I shook my head.

“Oh, God, no, not after this shocking story.  I, too, need time now, Marvin. If I stay, it’ll mean I’m using you when you are so vulnerable. I’d be no better than Michael who stayed.”

I kissed him on the cheek.

“Let’s have coffee tomorrow,” I said.

“We are leaving in the morning,” Marvin said.

He looked at me with endless warmth and…gratitude.

“You are right,” he said. “You are right. Go.  Thank you for being honest. Let me give you my number.”

I fished a wallet out of my pocket and gave Marvin my business card.

***

No.

Marvin hasn’t yet found the red-haired sunshine boy I’d promised him.

No.

We haven’t met again ever since.

No.

I don’t regret leaving that night.

What did you say? Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

---

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Everyone always told me try going to a spa to relax, especially after my recent divorce my ex-wife was always finding new ways to constantly stress me out. So, one day I finally decided to give it a try, going to one that my ex-wife always wanted to try.

Mind you I am not gay, but I have always been open to new experiences. Spa’s & Sauna’s well, I always found it weird that you had to be naked around other men. I had nothing to be ashamed of really. I was well built with a generous ass… 7-inch-thick cock… So, nothing to be embarrassed over.

Before I went, I decided to clean myself up. First by shaving my cock completely smooth. Then I started to go a little further. Conscious that a lot of other men would be seeing me. Noticing the hair around my nipples I started to shave my chest, then I just…. Kept going. Shaving all the hair off my ass, between my ass… Everything. Completely hairless. I do not know what came over me but the feeling of being so smooth really turned me on and I started cleaning out my ass too. Deeper. And Deeper. Before I knew it, I was fingering myself in the shower.

Catching myself. I think I am clean enough. I departed.

It was later in the day around 7 so I knew I would have a few hours to relax at the sauna before it closed at 9. Walking in I had no idea what to expect. Everything was new from putting my shoes in their own locker to then going down to the men’s only locker room first. The spa was mostly mixed but the men’s locker room had its own separate sauna and bathing area that nudity was allowed it. I first changed consciously in the corner of the locker room with my robe on and quickly putting my bathing suit on.

I was curious, I wanted to see the whole place and decided to investigate the men’s side first completely. Open showers, a medium side pool, sauna. It was quiet until… Well seeing a few men walking around completely nude and shameless. A very tall black man walked by me with is massive cock swaying, I could not help but stare a little.

I decided on sitting in one of the pools for a bit. Sinking down in the water, arms out to the side I put my head back to relax. First, I heard the bare footsteps behind me then a rather heavyset man came wading into the pool to my right.  He was about 5’10 with a large belly, shaved head and a generous 6-inch uncircumcised cock like my own came walking into the pool. I was very aware of his cock as it was swaying quite close to me as he sat in the pool besides me.

I tried to close my eyes again to relax but then I heard his deep voice say to me on the side. “You know it feels so much better without your bathing suit on, nothing to be ashamed of here.”

Looking to my side again I… “um I was just a little self-conscious. This is my first time here so.”

“Well, it’s just us so don’t worry, don’t worry I will hold your spot for you.” And me smiled at me. That smile went right through me and I could tell he wanted something.

Not knowing what to do I got up and walked across the room. I could feel his stare as I slid my bathing suit down and bent down to take it off. Feeling his stare, I was so aware of how bare my ass felt. Turning around I walked back into the pool.

“There you go. That is better boy. Relax.”

I admit I dosed off a bit. Then I woke up when I heard the man start to rise out of the water. When I opened my eyes, he was standing half out of the water next to me. Facing me with his cock at my eye level, he stared down at me.

“The sauna will close in about 30 minutes, should shower before you leave.” And stood there for a minute staring at me. His cock was semi-hard. Glistening wet I just…. Started a little too much.

“You married?” He asked. I glanced and could see a wedding band on his finger.

“Recently divorced.  I have been out of it lately, didn’t expect to pass out just now.”

He grunted “Yeah sorry to hear that. Must be frustrated as hell.”

He stepped a little closer. Noticing I was staring at his cock again. He glanced around, as if to confirm we were alone now.

“Can’t help but notice your staring….”

“Yeah, I ah…I’m sorry” My face turned completely red. Mouth open and…. Well, I did not close it. My mouth was…. Watering. I think I wanted to…

He stepped closer. Staring down at me, his cock inches from my face. “You want to suck it? Go ahead son its alright… Play with it.”

My brain froze. I have never done anything like this before. I… I do not know what came over me. I leaned forward and just… Wrapped my lips around his head. And started to suck…. Just the head at first then pushing my head deeper over his cock. Deeper into my mouth. Tasting him, sucking him off. My mind was in complete shock.

I heard another set of footsteps and just in time I pulled away from his cock with a popping sound. It was one of the employees to the place. Pausing for a minute seeing the other man’s rock-hard cock now glistening with saliva, he stuttered for a second and said “…just ah wanted to remind you that the spa will be closing in about 30 minutes.”  Lingering for another second before walking off.

“I’m Randy by the way” As he fully stepped out of the bath and towards the showers. Walking off his stiff cock swaying back and forth. “You coming?”

Flowing him into the open showers I was completely on auto pilot at this point. Open and empty except for the two of us we picked two showers across from the other. I started to shower as normal, first facing the opposite direction. I looked back and I saw him staring at my ass as he lathered his body with soap, slowly stroking his stiff cock.

“Go ahead, clean that ass good for daddy.”

And there I was, washing myself and then starting to finger myself again. Cleaning my ass out in front of another man. My ass was getting loose, it ached. It wanted something. Making eye contact with Randy, I told him “My name is Jimmy.”

Mmmmhmmm…. Randy groaned as he stroked himself off watching me. I happened to glance to the opening to the showers and I saw the employee from earlier, head slightly peaked around the corner…. Just watching.

Once Randy glanced over too and noticed, then that seemed to be the signal for him. Stepping over directly to my stall as I was faced backwards to him. He grabbed the back of my neck and with his cock in his other hand proceeded to rub his head against my soaped ass. Moving his head between my cheeks, he then proceeded to rub against the opening to my asshole. I could feel his large gut rubbing against my back and the stare from the employee watching.

“You want this cock boy? Mmmhmmm? You want daddy to fuck you?”

Pushing my ass backwards, that was all the signal Randy needed. Pressing the head of his cock into my ass he slid in easily and tightly. Head popped in, gripping his cock tightly I was a little nervous as this was my first time…

“Relax Jimmy…. Relax…. Take it, take my cock…”

Pressing further. I felt him stretching out my asshole as he slid further into my ass. Shower room steaming, pressed against the wall…. I felt like I was in another reality…. I could not believe what was happening to me.

Finally, I felt it, he was all the way inside me. Feeling his balls press against mine he rested there for a second as if laying claim to my ass. I felt my asshole loosen and wrap around his cock. Filling me completely it was an exhilarating feeling. I let out a moan…

As if that was the cue, Randy slowly started to pull out and push all the way back in… Slowly and all the way in. Pressing deep into me to stretch out my ass. All the way out and all the way in… repeatedly. I was in nirvana…. I could feel precum starting to leak out of my cock. Then he started to pick up pace… Faster, and faster. His cock started to slap against my ass once he was in completely. Feeling his heavy weight on top of me, slamming his cock deeper with every thrust. Moaning hard, grunting as his heavy body owned my bare ass.

My face was pressed against the tile now…. “Fuck… fuck fuck…’

“Yeah, boy you like that? You love daddy’s dick hu?”

“Yes… I do… yes… fuck….”

Pulling out he commanded me “Get on the floor on your hands and knees, ass up. I’m gonna pound that ass doggie style and get you pregnant whore.”

A little wobbly, I complied. Obeyed.

Getting on the ground first on my hands and knees, I bent over all the way with my face to the wet floor. My ass in the air and completely exposed. Round ass shaved smooth and gaping open, totally vulnerable and waiting, begging to be filled. I do not know how it happened but I became a complete bottom whore. And if I was honest, this felt better than any sex I had with my ex-wife…

Randy stepped over me, dominating me. Rock hard cock throbbing, I could see the thick veins of his dick as he stroked himself off. Pointing the head of his cock down as he bends down, he slid easily back inside my ass. Down further, burying it again deep in my ass.

I was very aware that I was facing the man watching us, and Randy stared at him as he owned my ass. His full heavy weight pounding down upon me now, he has an almost villainous smile as he took me. His body glistening wet, panting as he exerted himself. Grunting. Slamming down upon me. His balls slapped against mine, pounding my knees hard into the tile. Then I could feel it slowly start to build inside me as he started to hit my p-spot. Massaging my prostate at just the right angle I could feel my balls starting to swell…

As it started to happen, I was in disbelief. I could feel myself building up to cum. Without touching my cock, it was swaying back and forth as I was being pounded. I Could feel it building and building and then.

“Oh my god yes, that’s it I think…I think I’m gonna. I am going to CUM!”

It felt much different then I had ever cum before, instead of exploding my cum started to flow out of me, pouring onto the floor beneath me. And as my cock was flopping back and forth my cum was flowing and flying all over beneath me. It was all surreal, I never came like this before…

That really turned Randy on because he picked up the pace slamming into my ass even harder.

“Fuck Jimmy yes you are a real slut, aren’t you? Cumming for Daddy, that is a good boy… Now it is time to receive your load, I will fill that ass up and get you pregnant… Just like you fucked your ex-wife.”

My ass was aching now; being worn out by the relentless pounding it was receiving. For such an overweight man, Randy was giving it his all. Using his full weight and slamming himself down upon me, his belly shaking and face bright red as he took me.

“There it is… Yes… Here is comes…. Are you ready?”

I could feel it, his cock starting to swell as he slammed down one finally time deep into me. Pulsing, cum flowing deep into my ass. His balls convulsing as his load emptied into me. Taking my ass virginity and without a condom… It was worth it. Feeling his cum fill me even more. We just collapsed onto the floor together with him on top of me panting.

Pushing both his hands onto my back, he eventually pulled out of me and stood up. Cock semi-hard and leaking cum. I could feel his cum leaking of out my ass as I lay on the floor twitching.

He eventually helped me to my feet. Feeling a little wobbly Randy stood there holding me for a minute. I noticed our watcher had left. Noticing the showers were off, I went to go and turn the water back on but Randy stopped me.

“Leave it. Let my cum stay inside you. I want you walking out of here knowing that ass is mine.”

And with that we walked back to the lockers to get dressed. It was then I noticed our fan from earlier standing behind the counter, with a stiff cock struggling inside his pants. Still naked and cum dripping out of my ass and beginning to run down my thigh, Randy gestured over to the man…

“Looks like you have one more person to take care of… Go over there and relieve the man. Be a good slut and do as your told.”

Complying and walking over to the man totally naked still. He was not as big a man as Randy, Hispanic and average built, there was not anything remarkable about the man. They must have known each other. He was on his phone when I approached and I could see a video playing… what looked like a shower scene playing. …Omg did he?

Randy with his pants on walked over and gestured to the man’s stiff cock “My slut is going to take care of you now; glad you enjoyed the show.”

And with that Randy walked away and the man pulled his pants down to his ankles. Stiff cock springing out. Short around 4 ½ inch and hairy, precum dripping down his head. He picked up his phone again and I could hear the record button pressed…

And there I was. On my knees. Naked. Cum leaking out of my ass. Gagging on a stranger’s cock with him recording me. He kept speaking me to me in Spanish, saying something Papi…. I think it was “Si para tua papi, mas… mas…” I think that meant ‘yes for you’re daddy’?

Everything was a blur, mind foggy, sucking on this man’s cock as if on auto pilot. Saliva was running down my chin and throat as the man leaned back, camera pointed at me. My head bobbing up and down on his cock and my hands on his legs. Randy walked back over before leaving with his cloths on and his bag, and my phone in his hand….

He pointed it at my face to unlock it.

“I’m putting my number in here, tell me next time you are coming so I can be here too. Don’t forget.”

He kept playing with my phone, I could see him scrolling my pictures.

“Is this your ex?”

He pointed my phone as me with my ex-wife Emily’s picture.  I moaned in reply, with a cock fully in my mouth.

He pointed my camera at me now, recording.

“Jimmy suck that cock harder… Alejandro it’s time to give him a load to swallow. His first load…”

“Si….si…si…. ahh yes here it comes for you…”

Alejandro grabbed the top of my hair and started slamming his cock into my face, his other hand with the camera pointed at me still. I could feel his balls starting to swell, his cock beginning to pulse.

And then it happened.

Cum poured out of his cock, down my throat. Slamming his cock all the way down my throat so I could not pull back, I started to gag a little and swallowed. It was a huge load; he must have been really excited from watching us because he exploded down my throat. I could not move as his cum kept pulsing into my mouth. All I could do was swallow repeatedly. Finally I could feel his cock beginning to soften and he pulled out of my mouth.

On my knees, mouth open. Panting. Eye’s a little bloodshot. Dazed. I heard him end the recording and put his phone down.  Pulling his pant up I didn’t even realize Randy had left already. My phone on the counter.

“Sir the spa is closed now. You need to leave.”

And with that I got up and started getting dressed. I could feel cum leaking out of my ass still and staining my underwear. I could taste Alejandro’s salty cum still in my mouth. Finally, I picked up my phone and went to see what Randy had been doing.

My messages were open.

Randy had added himself to my phone and messaged himself the video of me blowing the random guy. He also had gotten into my private folder and messaged himself some nude pictures I had of my ex… How did he find those so fast?

Then I started to receive some messages from my ex-wife Emily. I did not want to open them at first but I begrudgingly did.

WTF is wrong with you!?

Why would you send me this?

I always knew you were a fag.

And below that I saw what else Randy had done, he messaged her the video of me blowing the Alejandro…

Arjun went on a week-long work trip. We’d decided before he left to play a little game.

We would hold off until he came home. No cumming for the entire week. By the end of the trip, we were both worked up and yearning to empty our nuts.

The day he was flying in, I woke up with my morning wood leaking and beating with blood. Going about my morning routine, my cock repeatedly flagged and sprang right back to life, becoming randomly erect. Thankfully it was the weekend, and I could stay home. I was in no condition to be out in public. 

Arjun texted that he’d landed. I had just enough time to implement an additional scheme to our game.

I showered quickly and I got dressed, putting on a new outfit I ordered. A costume of sorts, to play out a fantasy Arjun had for years.

I tucked my chubbed dick into a white, mesh jockstrap. It had the look of a retro 1980s jock, but with modern twists. The pouch was very slim, barely covering my large dick and sac, the edges of my bush poking out the sides. The company label sewn into the front of the wide waistband had a red logo, and one red stripe ran through the middle of the waistband.

I slapped the straps into place along my hairy muscle ass and took a moment to rub my hole. I was horned up and ready.

I pulled on calf-height white socks with a double red, horizontal stripe near the top. Then I added a pair of white gym sneakers with red laces. To top the costume off, I threw a whistle held to a red string over my neck. The cool metal clasp holding the string together above the whistle settled into the gingery hair between my muscular pecs. The whistle itself lay just below my pecs.

Arjun’s fantasy was to have sex with a retro gym teacher/fitness trainer. My outfit would fit the bill.

I settled into the rolly chair at the desk in our bedroom. I couldn’t help but stroke my dick. It was growing of its own accord within the confines of the skimpy jockstrap. The material pushed away from my body, exposing my testicles, as my dick tented the pouch. As my cock continued to lengthen, stretch the pouch, and resumed leaking, now soaking into the mesh material. I caught each glob of leaky nectar with my fingers and licked it off.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard Arjun unlock the front door.

“I’m in the bedroom,” I called. “And I have a surprise.”

Arjun dropped his bags and kicked off his shoes.

He stopped in the doorway, a sly expression spreading across his face. “That is fucking sexy,” he cooed. He licked his lips and rubbed his crotch.

Getting into character, I blew my whistle. “What did you just say to me,” I scolded. “You will address me as Coach.”

Arjun grinned, still rubbing his crotch. “Yes Coach.”

“Come here and get on your knees,” I commanded.

I lifted one leg onto the edge of the chair, the other just off the floor, resting on the wheel bar. My cock straining gratuitously against the wet pouch. Just a touch to the pouch would spring my raging cock free.

“Well,” I said expectantly, Arjun’s face near my crotch. “My cock isn’t going to take care of itself.”

“Yes Coach,” Arjun said and licked along the side of my testicles exposed by the skimpy jockstrap. His hands played with my nipples. His tongue straightened and dug under the jockstrap pressing into my cock, lifting the pouch away. The fabric snapped back, and my cock sprang free, hitting Arjun’s chin.   

I let out a long groan.

Arjun pulled his head back, my cock standing to full attention, the fat mushroom head resting on his lips. Arjun kissed it, licked it, and sucked in it.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah,” I moaned. His mouth felt amazing on my raging dick. “Suck Coach’s cock.”

He took me fully inside, my head pushing into his throat. His hand grabbed the whistle and pulled, holding it tight as he sucked up and down my full 8inches.

I yelled in pleasure and scooted down the chair.

Arjun’s hand on my testicles moved further down to massage my taint and pushed on further, probing my newly exposed hole.

“Fuck,” I yelled, bucking my hips.

Arjun was moaning around my dick, sucking it hard while toying with my anus.

“Stop,” I commanded. “Coach doesn’t want to cum yet. Strip.”

Arjun reluctantly pulled off my cock and anus. Standing, he shucked his polo. Putting his hands on his chinos, he looked at me seductively, shimmying his pants down slowly, revealing a sky-blue thong. Clearly, Arjun had also planned a little something extra for our game.

“Sexy underwear you have on Trainee,” I complimented. “Looks like it gives you lots of support,” I continued, running my hand over his hard pouch, cupping his junk. “And it’s perfect for Coach to inspect your muscles.”

I squeeze his calves, then his quads. His dick was hard, precum soaking through the thong. I brushed my hand across his sac and dick, squeezing his cum gutters and firm abdomen.

“Turn around,” I commanded. “I want to inspect your glutes.”

The blue thong disappeared into the crack of Arjun’s brown skin. The colors contrasted beautifully. His firm, smooth, sculpted butt flexed as he shifted his weight.

“Gorgeous glutes,” I complimented, cupping them in my hands and squeezing. “You’ve followed my routine well I see. But let’s get a deeper look.”

I parted his glutes and ran my fingers down his crack, tracing over the silky thong fabric. I pushed down at his hole, pressing the thong into this flesh.

“Aahhhh fuck Coach,” he moaned.

“What’s that Trainee,” I asked, hooking my finger under his thong and pressing into his hole with my bare flesh.

“FFuuuccckk,” he moaned, louder.

“You like that don’t you,” I asked. “Wearing this sexy little thong, showing off your muscles.”

Arjun moaned, “Yes Coach.”

I withdrew my finger and tugged gently on the thong, rubbing the fabric over the lips of his hole.

Arjun kept moaning.

I pulled thong aside, hooking it onto his glute, and licked slowly along crack. Back and forth in a zigzag pattern, I worked excruciatingly slowly down his crack toward his trembling hole.

We were both moaning now and our dicks throbbing in anticipation.

My tongue slipped lower, just at the edge of his hole.

And I drove in. Pushing his anal lips apart with my tongue, piercing his hole.

He whimpered and bent over, spreading his cheeks wider. My one hand continued to hole his thong to the side while the other reached around the front and rubbed his cock through the pouch. I could feel his foreskin sliding up and down his dick as I jacked him through the thong. I loved feeling of his foreskin stretching and flexing, it was a very different feel from playing with my cut cock.

“Fuck yeah,” I said. “You’re one sexy athlete.”

“Yeah Coach,” Arjun moaned. “All for you.”

I leaned over, removing my hand from his cock, and picked up the lube I’d left on the floor. Leaning into him, feeling the heat radiating from his ass, I spat on his exposed flesh and planted my face in the crack. He whimpered and shook, backing his ass into me face.

Eating his hole, I coated my cock, mixing my precum with lube. Working my tongue around and inside his hole, I replaced it with a finger, getting his ass ready.

Tucking the thong around his sculpted glute, I held firmly to his hips and pulled him to me.

“Come, sit on Coach’s cock,” I said,

Arjun stepped back and squatted down. Tilting my hips, I aimed my cock at his hole as he lowered in onto me.

His hole pressed onto my head and eagerly engulfed it. Both of us were moaning. Arjun slid down my rod, my dick pulsating as it filled him up inside, popping past the sphincter. Arjun didn’t stop until he was fully down, ass sitting on my thighs.

“OOOOHHHHHHH fuuuuuuuuck Coach,” Arjun groaned, his ass squeezing my dick. “You have such a big cock.”

“Show Coach how much you love his big cock.”

Arjun lifted and sank back down. Slow, shallow movements to start.

“UUUUUuuuuuuuuuhhhhh,” I moaned, kissing his back and neck.

But he soon picked up range and speed, his ass sliding up and down my 8inch cock like his life depended on it.

“Fuck Coach, fuck,” Arjun moaned.

I played with his nipples and rubbed his cock, still constrained in his pouch.

“AAAhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned louder.

He rode me harder and faster, both of us moaning.

“Fuck Coach,” Arjun yelled. “I’m going to cum soon.”

“Blow your load Trainee,” I said. Pulling my whistle off, I wrapped it around his neck, holding the string tight, gently choking him with it.

He screamed in pleasure and slowed riding my dick.          

“My cock has other needs Coach,” Arjun croaked out.

“Are you ready for that Trainee,” I asked.

Arjun jumped off my cock, hooked his arms under mine, squatted, lifted me off the chair, and threw me on the nearby bed. He picked up the lube, jumped on the bed next to me, and shoved his thonged cock in my face.

“I’m fucking ready Coach,” he affirmed. “Now suck MY cock.”

I opened my mouth and bit gently on his shaft. My saliva wetting his pouch even more than his precum had.

He pulled the pouch aside, his 7inch uncut brown cock bounding out, smacking my mouth. Precum poured out, covering my lips and dripping onto my tongue.

“Suck it Coach,” he commanded.

I sucked him in, working his foreskin and sensitive glans.

“Fuck yeah,” he yelled, shoving it in further.

While I continued to suck his dick, Arjun coated his fingers in lube and reached around to my anus.

Pressing two fingers into my hole, he looked down at me.

“I’m fucking ready Coach, and your ass had better be too. First, I’m going to finger you, and then fuck your brains out.”

I moaned hard and sucked harder on his dick. My ass spasmed and opened, beckoning him in. He shoved both fingers inside and circled them around, driving me wild. My cock leaked continuously on my abdomen.

Arjun’s cock withdrew from my mouth and his fingers from my ass. He lifted my hips and spread my legs further apart, holding my ass up in the air, framed by the straps of my jockstrap. I felt his cock push an inch into my ass.

“Fuck yeah Coach,” Arjun teased. “You’ve wanted my cock in your ass for years now, haven’t you. Ever since you saw me working out at the gym, every time you’ve fucked my ass, you wanted me inside you too. Didn’t you?”

I moaned and breathed heavily. “Fuck yeah.”

My ass relaxed more, and Arjun’s cock slipped fully inside.

“Fuck,” we moaned together.

Arjun broke me in quickly. Not long after slipping inside, he was pounding my ass hard.

“You take cock like a pro Coach,” he said, ramming me with his dick.

“Always a pro,” I said, moaning.

Arjun and I were sweating. Arjun panting. I pulled at his thong, making it rub his anus, and squeezed his testicles.

“OOOOOHHHHHHHH fuck Coach,” he yelled. “Jack your cock and cum for me.”

I collected my precum and jacked hard and fast on my dick. I grabbed my whistle, still around his neck, and pulled him down to me, kissing him hard. As soon as our lips touched, we exploded.

“FFFFFFFFuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk,” he yelled, cum shooting inside me.

My toes curled and ass spasmed. Cum arced from my cock like a fountain spraying water. Long, heavy ropes of cum matching the intensity of my cock and anal orgasm.

Arjun kept pummeling my ass, cum lining my insides.

My first and second ejaculation coated my mouth, lips, cheek, and neck. I licked my cheek and lips and swallowed. The rest of my cum fountain coated my pecs and abs.

Arjun collapsed on top of me, his dick slipping from my butt.

“Fantasy fulfilled,” he sighed. His breath steadying. 

I kissed him on the forehead. “Welcome home.”

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≈ Ch. 8: ALL THE WAY ≈

 

~ Too much, too soon ~

The next morning Jason slept in. When he woke up he felt a different man than the one who woke up in that very same bed no more than 24 hours earlier. Too much had happened in such a short span of time: first, the unbelievable sex he had with Aric, that opened new horizons of pleasure in his mind; and then the equally unbelievable encounter he had with Laudon in the Temple.

Physically, he felt that his energies were fully restored; but his mind still reeled for what he’d recently discovered: Boba-Maiii was not a god but a man, who died long ago; Laudon was an A.I. system who governed Eclipse and supported its inhabitants, without resorting to anything esoteric or otherworldly; and last but not least, neither Boba-Maiii nor Laudon could care less about what Eclipsian men did with their own male seed.

Jason turned his head and saw his roommate Stellan, with his handsome clean face and his innocent expression, getting dressed.

“Good morning!” – Stellan exclaimed, smiling – “Are you OK? Tonight you were restless and you kept repeating ‘Laudon, Laudon’…”

Jason smiled: “I’m OK. More than OK, thank you buddy! And I’m starving! See you in a few at the dining hall!”

Stellan went away and Jason sat on the side of the bed, pensive: after what he did with Aric, how innocent and clumsy it seemed now what he’d done with Stellan! Aric had such a great experience and confidence in matters of sex that Jason felt (with good reason) a rookie, even less than a rookie. After all, Jason just gave a sloppy blowjob to Stellan, nothing special…

«Wait…» – Jason suddenly thought, thinking back to when Stellan begged him to shove a finger into his ass. Jason couldn’t believe the sheer pleasure painted on Stellan’s face while having his most sacred orifice violated that way! But later on, with Aric, Jason discovered what it meant being touched there: the sensations radiating from his insides, so masterfully titillated by Aric, made him scream for pleasure!

And Jason couldn’t forget, also, the knowing, almost mischievous grin Aric wore when he said: “You’d be surprised at how many men willingly opened for me their backdoor…”. Apparently, several men enjoyed surrendering their most intimate depths to Aric’s demanding manhood! Again, how naïve Jason felt, convinced as he was that all Aric did with his dick was masturbating: he did much more than that! And with many different men! Jason felt a sense of relief, knowing that, apparently, part of the Eclipsians had chosen the path of manly love, rather than passively obey the meaningless rule forbidding them to waste their seed.

Jason quickly scanned in his mind the scarce population of Eclipse, trying to guess who could be so daring to open his man-hole for another man, but soon he realized that it was irrelevant. The point was that anal sex wasn’t the painful and humiliating thing he’d always thought: it was just another way for two lovers to share their intimacy and pursue their pleasure, as Jason himself knew, having tasted first-hand a hint of that pleasure.

While getting dressed, Jason kept thinking at the last 24 hours of his life, Aric, Laudon, Boba-Maiii, the Temple, the shattering orgasm, the fingers shoved in Stellan’s and his own ass; and all these things, like pieces of a puzzle, slowly created a beautiful image in his mind, an image of freedom, self-determination and unapologetic search for pleasure, without stupid moral or social restraints.

With a special spring in his step, Jason moved to the dining room to have breakfast. He stood tall in front of the Altar, where so many times he’d humbly begged Boba-Maiii to get some food, glanced around to be sure not to be overheard and sternly ordered: “Laudon, give me some food!”. No invocations, no pleas, no kneeling in front of a god that never existed: just a quick order to a machine whose purpose was to satisfy his needs.

He felt his heartbeat race, though: twenty-one years of faith in Boba-Maiii couldn’t be wiped away easily; but he relaxed when a blue light surrounded the Altar and a bowl of the well-known tasteless pudding appeared at his feet. If ever Jason needed a confirmation, that bowl of unappealing brownish cream proved beyond doubt that Boba-Maiii didn’t exist, and an A.I. named Laudon was actually in charge of everything.

Jason quickly knelt down to pick up the bowl and suddenly froze: he was kneeling down! Not as a gesture of submission or reverence to Boba-Maiii, but just because he wanted to grab the bowl at his feet. «This is what Eve and Adam saw the adults doing!» – Jason realized, to his astonishment – «They saw the adults kneeling, possibly thanking a long-dead Boba-Maiii for creating Eclipse and that efficient system for providing food, and the kids believed they were praying!»

With his mind still focused on what happened in those very halls three centuries earlier, Jason took the bowl, stood up and sat at the nearest table. He ate the tasteless food like he’d done countless times, but this time it had a sweet taste: the taste of freedom. Freedom from moral laws he’d always felt too tight and mortifying, freedom from a religious cult he never totally believed in. A freedom he couldn’t share with anyone, though, because the reaction of the Eclipsians to such ground-breaking news was unpredictable, to say the least. Archon himself, when talking about Adam and Eve, angrily dismissed the foolish idea that Boba-Maiii could be a figment of Eve’s naïve imagination.

There were so many things to take in, and Jason felt a bit overwhelmed. He needed support and comfort, and Archon was the last person he could talk to. But he knew where to find the comfort he badly needed…

 

~ The First Husband ~

Deimos turned to see who was coming in and smiled wide: “Jason! I’m so glad you came, I missed you! It’s been two days since we spent some time together! Well, except for the brief moment when we met at the Antechamber, but you were the Successor, in that moment, not my Jason…”

Jason felt his heart skip a beat, in the sweetest way, hearing Deimos referring to him as ‘my Jason’. “I missed you too” – he said, hugging Deimos tight and placing his head on the man’s wide chest. Deimos wore a fatherly, tender smile and threw his arms around Jason’s shoulders, holding him tight against his chest and feeling the guy shivering: “Hey, hey… What’s up, buddy?”

“Nothing… I’m just enjoying a deep interpersonal bond…” – was the guy’s puzzling reply, and Deimos held him even tighter: “I love deep interpersonal bonds… Especially now: Pearl got pregnant, and this means that for the next ten or eleven months there won’t be any insemination…”

Jason recoiled, smiling, and then looked at Deimos with a thoughtful expression: “Deimos… would you say that we… had sex? I mean, I’m your Helper, it’s normal that I… uhm… touch you, no?”

“And you did a wonderful job as a Helper” – Deimos confirmed – “But that was in the beginning. Then we went further, I’d say. I mean, we know how each other’s seed tastes! So, yes, Jason: we undeniably had sex. Does it make you feel… bad?”

Jason shook his head, still locking eyes with Deimos, and asked back: “What about you?”

“It’s… weird. Don’t take me wrong, I loved every moment with you, every touch, every kiss! But a part of me… a stupid part of me feels scared. Scared of doing something wrong, scared of acting like… an invo. But I’m fighting that part of me, I think what happened between us is too beautiful to be ruined by stupid fears…”

Jason began nervously shifting from foot to foot: “I too think that what’s happening between us is wonderful… Just wonderful… And that’s why I want to ask you… uhm.. Deimos, will you be my First Husband?”

Deimos opened his eyes wide and couldn’t restrain a playful chuckle: “Are you… proposing to me? Come on! We can’t get married! Even if us both being men weren’t already an impediment, it would still be far too early… I mean, are you serious? We basically never talked to each other for years, and while we recently became quite… intimate, it’s not enough to get married…”

“I’m not talking of getting married!” – Jason laughed, but he soon became serious again – “You’re Pearl’s first husband, but you’re not actually married to her, nor to Claire or the many other women who chose you as their first husband. You once told me that they chose you because… well… they wanted to offer you…”

“…their virginity!” – Deimos exclaimed under his breath, now fully understanding what the guy meant – “But… Jason… are you sure? You see, it’s normal that a woman offers her virginity to a man, but you… you’re a man… and for a man it’s harder… I mean…”

“I know what you mean, and I’m sure, Deimos. But I see you’re shocked. I should never have asked you…”

“I’m not shocked…” – Deimos exclaimed with passion – “Well, I am, a bit. But deep inside I’m… honored! And surprised! It’s by far the sweetest proposal I’ve ever got! And the most daring, also. I didn’t think you were so… confident and free-spirited. After all, you are the Successor of the Guardian, and Boba-Maiii would never…”

“Let’s not talk about Boba-Maiii, please. He has nothing to do with… my offer. As you said, I’m the Successor, I know what I’m talking about. Will you… take what I’m offering you?”

“I… will” – Deimos replied, clearly struggling for his own moral restraints; but soon added, smiling: “Of course I will. You’ve been so brave to ask me, and I can’t be any less. Forgive my stupid hesitation. I’d be a fool if I wouldn’t take such a sweet offer.”

There was such a tenderness in Deimos’ voice that Jason threw himself into his strong arms again. Deimos held him tight, but soon recoiled: “But… do you mean now?”

The sudden twitch under Deimos’ embroidered loincloth told Jason that, after all, it wasn’t a bad moment for the handsome Dark man to do the deed. It took Jason only a moment to throw away his tunic and reply with a suggestive glance: “Can you think of a better moment?”

Deimos’ eyes eagerly scanned the guy’s toned body, shining with excitement. He reached out to Jason’s chest and sensually played with his thick body hair; feeling Jason’s heart thump into his chest and the warmth of his skin under his fingers made his last scruples crumble. With a nod of his head, Deimos breathed: “OK, let’s do it. But we’re going to do it properly…”

With a swift move that made Jason gasp, Deimos took the guy bodily into his strong arms, without apparent effort, and headed to the door to the Nuptial Alcove. Jason murmured: “Are you sure it’s a good idea? The Alcove is where… uhm… you and your wives…”

“I trusted you as the Successor, now trust me as the First Husband. As your First Husband. This is exactly how things are meant to be done…”

They entered the Alcove and Deimos gently laid Jason on the ample nuptial bed; he quickly unlaced his loincloth, that fell to the floor, revealing Deimos’ beautiful black member, at half mast. He climbed on the bed and knelt astride Jason’s chest offering his manhood to him: “I still need your precious services as my Helper… though this time you’ll get me ready for yourself. Only, be sure not to push me too far, or I won’t be able to perform my… husbandly duties!”

“You silly…” – Jason chuckled, grabbing the long dark meat with reverence. He pulled back the foreskin, revealing the dark pink glans, and stuck out his tongue, to give it quick teasing licks. The cautious licking turned into a passionate lapping, along the entire stiffening rod, down to the wiry pubes, the wrinkled skin of the ball sac, and then back up to the head.

Jason engulfed the now rock-hard cock with his mouth and truly made love to it, with passion. His tongue titillated, licked and rolled around the wide mushroom head, insisting on the flared ridge, the piss slit and the sensitive string under the glans. Pursing his lips tightly around the rigid shaft, he pressed the helmet between his tongue and his palate and rocked his head back and forth, thrilled by Deimos’ irrepressible moans of pleasure.

“Ooohh…” – Deimos moaned softly, his head tilted back in ecstasy – “I wish I had chosen you as my Helper years ago…”

Jason recoiled for a moment, smiling, took a couple deep breaths and murmured: “Years ago I couldn’t do this…” – and pushed his head forward, in one slow but unstoppable thrust, letting the bloated glans force open his inexperienced throat muscles.

“Holy fuck!” – Deimos gasped, swept away by the waves of sheer pleasure radiating from his cock, tightly massaged by Jason’s throat. He looked down, and couldn’t ignore the tears that were filling the guy’s eyes: “Jason… stop… I can’t trade my pleasure with your pain…”

As a silent reply, Jason grabbed Deimos’ marble buttocks with both hands to get more leverage and pushed his head forward even more, taking every single throbbing inch of his man’s virility. And then did it again and again, making the fat helmet crash into his gullet over and over, until Deimos yelled with urgency: “Wait wait wait…!!! Ggghh…!!!”

Remembering what Aric did to him to subdue his untimely climax, Jason pulled hard Deimos’ balls and held in a steely grip the base of his cock, and watched with wide lustful eyes at Deimos, stiffened in the supreme effort of holding his seed, until he slowly relaxed and exhaled loudly: “I told you to go easy this time…!”

“Sorry…” – Jason replied, with a mix of shyness and mischievous excitement – “I got carried away… I can’t get enough of your wondrous cock…”

 

~ A precious gift ~

Any man, hearing someone referring to his manhood as ‘wondrous’, would feel proud and self-confident, and so felt Deimos, who smiled wide and raised Jason’s legs, revealing his virgin back door: “Ready to find out what more ‘wonders’ my cock can do?”

Jason’s voice suddenly died in his throat. The moment had come. He was about to let a man violate the ultimate bastion of his virility. «No, not ‘violate’…» – he inwardly corrected himself – «I’m about to give a wonderful man my most precious gift…»

“Please…” – he breathed, his eyes shining with excitement – “But… it will hurt, won’t it?”

“This is not something I’ve done frequently” – Deimos confessed, taking a jar of perfumed oil from the bedstand – “but sometimes my wives, in the first trimester of their pregnancy, asked me to make love to them… in an alternate way, not to harm the baby. Don’t worry, I… uhm… had my share of virgin asses, I’ll be gentle… Now relax and open yourself to me…”

A single finger, slick with oil, pressed on Jason’s quivering hole, and gently intruded in the tight passage. Jason, won by Deimos’ comforting smile and his warm voice, accepted the worming finger inside him, without fighting it. There was such great intimacy in that act, and his body reacted, opening up and asking for more.

And he got it, because soon the fingers became two, bringing with them more slick oil and more shivers of pleasure. Jason moaned softly and tilted his hips, to meet the slow thrusts of those caring fingers. “Make love to me…” – Jason whispered after a while – “Take my virginity. I’m ready…”

“No, you’re not” – Deimos replied, pouring more oil on his hand and resuming the gentle massage, now with three fingers. Jason felt stretched like never before, and yet there was no pain, no discomfort: just the warming feeling of those thick fingers moving inside him, back and forth, gently brushing his prostate, but without assaulting it like Aric did.

During the long massage, Deimos’ cock hadn’t lost a fraction of its stiffness, and still stood at full mast, eager to sink into the warm depths of Jason’s body. The man recoiled and poured more oil on his member; he draped Jason’s legs on his shoulders and pointed his manhood to the slick, loosened hole: “Is your offer still valid? Do you still want me to be your First Husband? This is a one-way road…”

“I wouldn’t turn back for anything in the world…”

The fat helmet pressed on the wrinkled hole, stood there for a moment and then plopped inside the elastic anal ring. Jason inhaled sharply, but not for the pain, because there was almost none: he was gasping at the surprise of feeling, for the first time, a manly member take possession of his most sacred place, a place that no more than twenty-four hours earlier he was sure he’d never offered to anyone.

Deimos was not moving, he was keeping his hips still, waiting for Jason to adjust to his substantial girth, and Jason, driven by his own desire, tilted his hips to take an inch more of the black rod. The man gladly complied, thrusting his hips forward, slowly; Jason gave no sign of discomfort, he seemed actually in ecstasy, and Deimos’ long cock crawled its way deep inside him, until a sudden tightness blocked it and Jason let out a choked groan.

“I don’t need to go any further” – Deimos said, replying to Jason’s silent question – “With most Pale women I can’t even go this deep…”

“Go all the way…” – Jason begged with a coarse voice – “I want all of you… This is my gift for you, take it… Take it…!”

The pressure on his inner door increased, making Jason tense for the dull pain, until all of a sudden the fiery rod crashed into his farthest depths. “Nnngghh!!!” – Jason groaned, holding tight to Deimos, who whispered into his ear: “It’s done. I took your most intimate gift; now let me return the joy you gave me…”

He recoiled and pulled out of Jason’s ass, but soon he pressed again his rigid manhood on the slick hole and thrust his hips. This time he didn’t stop and went on pushing until he sank his entire tool into the fiery canal. Jason looked up at Deimos with wide shining eyes and murmured: “Yes…”, and then repeated “Yes!” a bit louder, when another long thrust filled him again to the brim; and then another thrust, more powerful, wrung a loud “YES!!” from him.

The massive cock became unstoppable. In and out, in and out, with long confident pushes. Jason kept his hands on Deimos’ wide chest, enjoying the feeling of the bulging muscles rippling under his fingers. He couldn’t see Deimos’ ass, of course, but he could easily envision it rocking back and forth, with the glutes flexing to push inside the big cock to the very last inch.

And damn, could he feel that cock inside him! It reached sensitive places inside him that Jason didn’t know even existed. He gazed up at Deimos’ face, and in his adoring eyes he looked like a god of love, the manliest man ever existed, the brightest icon of virility.

Every time the wide mushroom head brushed on his prostate, Jason felt a shiver of pleasure coursing through his spine down to his crotch, making his own cock throb and drool long streaks of pre-cum.

“It can’t be so beautiful…” – Jason moaned in disbelief, and Deimos purred: “Oh, it can… And I bet I can make it even more beautiful…”

It was the first time Deimos made love to a man, and sure enough he’d never let another man make love to him, so he didn’t really know what Jason was feeling, while being tenderly drilled by a manly member; but Deimos noticed Jason’s gasps and moans every time the wide glans hit a certain spot inside him, so he changed angle to better press his hidden button, over and over, with short thrust of his stiff rod.

“Oh my god… Oh god…” – Jason began moaning loud, almost hyperventilating, feeling his pleasure spot rhythmically crushed by Deimos’ relentless cock. He felt a rising tide of pleasure growing into his groin, that grew stronger at every hit of that special point inside him. “Deimos… ohh Deimos…! Don’t stop! I’m feeling… OOOHHH… You make me feel…”

Deimos would’ve gladly given free rein to his own lust, fucking deeper the tender ass, but he’d just taken from Jason the most precious gift a man can give to another man; so he restrained himself and put all his experience, passion and efforts in making Jason delirious with pleasure, going on hitting his sensitive prostate with quick short blows.

Jason held on to Deimos with all his strength, moaning louder and louder, and quickly succumbed under the tender onslaught: “AAAARRGGHH!!!” – he screamed, almost in shock, feeling his own untouched cock throb hard and spurt a river of thick manly juice, that pooled on his abs and turned his chest hair into a sticky mess.

Once Jason’s floodgates had opened, Deimos ramped up the pace of his thrusts, slamming his cock all the way inside the welcoming hole; Jason’s anal rings rhythmically tightened around his shaft, fueled by the massive orgasm, and the additional pressure blew Deimos’ mind, sending him through the roof.

His distinctive loud growl of pleasure, the very same manly growl that Jason once heard when Deimos impregnated Pearl, echoed in the Nuptial Alcove, while powerful shots of virile seed inundated Jason’s fiery depths.

“I’m breeding you…” – Deimos whispered into Jason’s ear, in the throes of his pleasure, and Jason moaned loud, feeling another surge of pleasure exploding from his cock.

When the frantic contractions of the climax trailed off, Deimos crashed down on Jason, who held him tight with his arms and legs, unwilling to let him go; and they stood there, on the crumpled bed, for many long moments, until Deimos’ shrinking manhood slipped out of Jason’s loosened hole.

A sudden shadow obscured Deimos’ handsome face and Jason asked anxiously: “Is there something wrong?”

“No… I just thought that this is usually the moment when the co-husbands crash into the Alcove and feast on the wife… Come, let’s move, I don’t want to stay here.”

“But… You’re still my First Husband, right?”

“I told you” – Deimos replied with a loving smile – “There’s no turning back. You gave me something you can’t possibly take back, a gift I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. But we must be careful, the co-husbands can’t understand, and I don’t want them to shout to the entire Eclipse that we’re invo.”

“We’re not invo! That word means nothing. There’s nothing wrong with a man sharing his bed and his seed with another man!”

Deimos flashed a weak smile: “Good luck on explaining that to the co-husband, or Eclipse. You may feel at peace with what we feel, you keep saying we’re not doing anything wrong, and I do my best to trust you and not to overthink what we do, but… it’s hard for me. In forty-three years I’ve never even imagined that one day I would’ve shared my bed with another man, and that I would’ve enjoyed it so much. And even if, as you say, there’s nothing wrong with what we do, this doesn’t lessen the shame of being marked by everyone as invo. This is a tight-knit community, and not exactly broad-minded: there are rules to follow, lest to face the consequences… rightful or wrongful they may be. Please, let’s move back to my room…”

 

~ Secrets and half-truths ~

Jason wore an understanding smile and got off the bed, pulling Deimos by his hand: “Come, let’s take a bath together.”

They moved to Deimos’ room and slipped into the sunken bathtub, which was in fact a natural pool fed by a warm underground spring that kept it fresh and clear. Deimos lay on his back and pulled Jason over him, holding him in a protective embrace: though he didn’t know first-hand, he could easily guess that for a man it’s a hard step to take, giving his virginity to another man.

Jason placed his head on Deimos’ chest and let out a short moan of relaxation. The warm water, Deimos’ strong arms around him, his entire muscular body pressed against his own… Jason felt in heaven.

“May I ask you something?” – Deimos said, breaking the silence – “That hug you gave me, earlier… it was intense. I felt you shivering into my arms…”

Jason stood silent for a moment, unwilling to fully reveal to Deimos his inner turmoil and the shocking truth about Eclipse and Boba-Maiii. “As the Successor of the Guardian, I discovered… something that it was tough for me to take in. You’ve been wonderful as always, giving me your silent support, but I can’t unload my burden on you…”

“Err… hello?” – Deimos joked, but only to lighten the tension – “You’re talking to the man who killed a Gryx with just one knife, in case you forgot. I’d say I’m sturdy enough to bear whatever burden you want to share with me! But… if it’s something you can’t reveal due to your role, you don’t need to tell me anything.”

“Say… What do you know about the history of Eclipse? Before you were born, I mean. Before the Guardian himself was born…”

“Not much” – Deimos confessed – “but I guess life has always been the same, here. Eat, sleep, gather food and Holy Stones, impregnate the Wives, obey Boba-Maiii’s law…”

“Life has not always been the same” – Jason gravely revealed, still keeping his head on Deimos’ comforting pecs – “About three centuries ago, something terrible happened here, I don’t know exactly what, but all the Eclipsians died. Darks, Pales, everyone. Only two kids miraculously survived: an eight-year-old Dark girl named Eve and a four-year-old Pale boy named Adam. Somehow they managed to stay alive, but there were no adults to take care of them, or teach them.”

“It’s… terrible!” – Deimos exclaimed – “Two kids so young, all alone… I can’t think of how scared they must have felt!”

“But there’s a happy ending, because they survived, grew up and populated Eclipse again. We’re all sons of Adam and Eve, if you think about it. But the point is: they were very young, they knew almost nothing about Eclipse: the entire knowledge of the Eclipsians died with them, centuries ago. Everything we know today, everything we believe in, is just what Adam and Eve taught to their children and grandchildren. It’s not the whole picture, but only what an eight-year-old little girl knew about life, about Eclipse, about… Boba-Maiii.”

“But… But…” – Deimos objected – “Adam and Eve couldn’t possibly have made it all up! I mean, Boba-Maiii’s law is too detailed, it gives strict and precise directions! How could they know that men must not waste their seed? Or that a wife must take five loads from her husbands? How could two kids even know what husband and wife do in bed?”

“They didn’t remain kids for long, they grew up and… nature took its course. As an adult, Adam took the place of the late Guardian and… did his best to guess what Boba-Maiii wanted by them all. For many decades their priority was to have children and populate Eclipse again, and it was an easy decision to state that men should’ve never wasted their seed and had to share it with a woman. And he also realized that there was a high risk of inbreeding, and “suggested” that women had to take five loads, not just one, possibly involving Dark males, as Darks have always been the pillars of Eclipse… just like you.”

“I’m not a pillar…” – Deimos replied, grinning with modesty, and Jason shot him an impish glance: “Ask my ass…”

“Ha ha ha!!!” – Deimos’ earthy laughter boomed in the room… and despite the playful vibes, Jason clearly felt Deimos’ ‘pillar’ poking into his groin, eager to get some more of Jason’s sweet ass…

Deimos’ tone was thoughtful, but relieved: “So… Boba-Maiii won’t get angry at me if I share my seed with you, with a man…”

Jason was about to reply that he meant something much greater than that, that Boba-Maiii wasn’t who everyone believed, but he bit his tongue, as Deimos apparently couldn’t grasp the deep implications of Adam and Eve’s story. Or maybe he instinctively refused to grasp them. So, he just replied: “Trust me: Boba-Maiii can’t care less who a man shares his seed with, or if a man wastes his seed…”

“You should tell this to the co-husbands…” – Deimos commented, with a serious tone – “Hard times are coming for the Darks, with Pearl unable to take our loads and no other women around. I know that you Pales live in abstinence your entire life, and you may well think that nine or ten months of it isn’t much to fuss around. But for us Darks, ten months are hell to get through. I’m lucky I have you, but the co-husbands will feel like caged Gryxes…”

Jason wore a weak smile and shook his head: “I can’t tell them. Not even you, with your kindness and your non-judgmental attitude, are ready to fully accept what I told you. A caged Gryx could never understand…”

Deimos nodded with a tense expression: “And they’re not even caged…”

 

-~~~≈≈≈ooOoo≈≈≈~~~-

 

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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“Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined,” Ansh groaned, his voice a raw, hungry thing in the dim light of the hotel room.

Rishav could only gasp in reply, his head thrown back against the pillows, his fingers digging into the sweat-slick muscles of his cousin’s back. “Ansh… oh god, Ansh…”

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

Three hours earlier, Rishav was scrolling, a bored, lonely flick of his thumb through a grid of faceless torsos and vague bios on Grindr. He’d been in the city for a week, a temporary transfer that felt more like exile. The generic “Hey” and “What are you into?” messages blurred together into a monotonous loop of disinterest.

Then a new profile popped up, proximity set to “Very Close.” FitVisitor24. The profile pic was a carefully cropped shot of a toned stomach, a trail of dark hair leading down into grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Rishav’s own breath caught. There was something… familiar about that torso. The specific curve of the hip, a small, faded scar just above the waistband.

Curiosity, a dangerous and thrilling itch, made him type. Visitor, huh? How long are you in town?

The reply was instantaneous. Just tonight. Looking for something… memorable. No strings.

Aren’t we all? Rishav typed back, his heart starting to pound for reasons he didn’t want to examine. What kind of memorable?

I want to feel it. All of it. I want to fuck a perfect, tight ass until neither of us can think straight. I want to fill it up.

The vulgarity, the directness, sent a jolt straight to Rishav’s cock. This was exactly the nasty, anonymous release he needed. Hotel Atlas?, he ventured, naming the place he was staying.

A pause. Then, Room 712. Now.

The coincidence was staggering, a twist of fate so bizarre he almost laughed. He was in 710. They were neighbours. He stood, his legs unsteady, and walked the twenty feet to the next door. He knocked, his throat dry.

The door opened just a crack, then swung wide.

And there stood his cousin Ansh. His eyes, wide with the same shock that was currently freezing Rishav’s blood, scanned him from head to toe. The phone was still clutched in Rishav’s hand, the chat open.

“Rishav?” Ansh whispered, the name a disbelieving breath.

“Fuck,” Rishav breathed out, the word tasting like ash. He should turn. He should run. He should pretend this never happened.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at the cousin he’d only ever seen at family gatherings, now standing in a hotel room doorway, half-hard in those grey sweatpants, exactly like the picture.

Ansh’s shock melted away, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated heat. His eyes darkened, roaming over Rishav’s body with a new, terrifying comprehension. “Get in,” he said, his voice low and rough. It wasn’t a question.

The door clicked shut. The silence in the room was a physical presence.

“I… I should go,” Rishav stammered, but he made no move toward the door.

Ansh stepped closer, invading his space. The scent of him, clean sweat and expensive cologne, wrapped around Rishav. “You messaged me. You came to my door. You want this.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fly of Rishav’s jeans, feeling the hard length beneath. “I can feel how much you want it.”

Rishav’s resolve shattered. A moan escaped his lips, and he surged forward, crashing his mouth against Ansh’s.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a collision of need, a frantic, open-mouthed exploration of lips and tongue. Ansh’s hands were everywhere, pulling at Rishav’s shirt, cupping the back of his head, holding him in place as he plundered his mouth. Rishav could taste the whiskey on his tongue, feel the scrape of his stubble. It was wrong. It was so fucking hot.

They stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and frantic hands tearing at clothing. “I’ve thought about this,” Ansh growled against his neck, biting down on the tendon there. “Fuck, for years. Seeing you at Diwali, in those tight jeans… imagining what your ass looked like.”

“Then stop imagining and fucking take it,” Rishav panted, his own voice foreign, consumed by a need he’d never dared name.

They were naked in seconds. Ansh was thicker than he’d imagined, his cock a heavy, angry red, jutting up from a thatch of dark hair. He pushed Rishav down onto the bed, on his hands and knees.

“Look at that,” Ansh murmured, his voice full of worship. He ran a hand over the curve of Rishav’s ass, spreading him open. “This perfect fucking hole. All mine tonight.”

The cold drizzle of lube was a shock, then the hot, insistent pressure of Ansh’s thumb, circling, pressing, working him open. Rishav buried his face in the sheets, his whole body trembling. “Please…”

“Please what?” Ansh’s voice was a taunt, a promise.

“Fuck me, Ansh. Just fuck me. I need it.”

The blunt head of Ansh’s cock pressed against him, a relentless, impossible pressure that gave way with a sharp, stinging burn that quickly melted into a fullness that stole Rishav’s breath. He cried out, a strangled sound, as Ansh sank into him to the hilt, his balls slapping against Rishav’s ass.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” Rishav gasped, pushing back against him, needing more.

Ansh set a brutal, punishing pace from the start, each thrust a masterclass in precision, angling himself to hit that spot inside Rishav that made his vision whiten. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, their ragged breathing, and filthy, broken words.

“You like your cousin’s cock stretching you open?” Ansh grunted, pistoning into him. “You like me fucking this ass that’s only for me?”

“Yes! God, yes! It’s yours! It’s all fucking yours!”

Ansh leaned over him, his chest pressed against Rishav’s back, his mouth at his ear. “I’m not pulling out,” he snarled, the words a vow. “I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. I’m gonna pump my fucking load into your guts and breed this tight cousin-cunt. You’re gonna feel me dripping out of you for days.”

The filthy promise, the sheer wrongness of it, tipped Rishav over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing untouched onto the sheets beneath him, his ass clenching rhythmically around Ansh’s driving cock.

Ansh swore, his thrusts becoming erratic, animalistic. “Fuck, yes, milk it out of me! Take it! Take my fucking seed!”

He slammed home one last time, and Rishav felt the hot, sudden flood inside him, jet after jet of wet heat filling him up, marking him. Ansh collapsed on top of him, his weight a crushing, wonderful anchor.

They lay there, breathing in ragged unison, connected. The sensation was overwhelming. The slow seep of cum, the throbbing of his own oversensitive body, the weight of his cousin on top of him.

Ansh shifted slightly, but he didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside, softening but still present. He nuzzled Rishav’s neck, his lips gentle against the skin he’d bitten minutes before.

“You feel that?” Ansh murmured, his voice hoarse. “That’s me. Deep inside you. My fucking cum is in your fucking ass.”

The warmth of Ansh’s cum was a living thing inside him, a thick, claiming heat that seemed to pulse with his own heartbeat. Rishav lay pinned beneath his cousin’s weight, every nerve ending screaming from the brutal, perfect fuck he’d just been given.

Ansh’s lips were soft against his neck, a stark contrast to the animalistic force of moments before. “You feel that?” he murmured. “That’s me. Deep inside you. My fucking cum is in your fucking ass.”

Rishav could only moan in response, a weak, overwhelmed sound. He felt utterly claimed, branded from the inside out. The smell of their sex flooded the room, a musky, honest scent that made his spent cock twitch with a faint, shocking interest.

Ansh shifted, his softening cock finally slipping out with a wet, obscene sound that made Rishav gasp. A slow, warm trickle immediately followed, tracing a path down his inner thigh. Ansh’s cum. Leaking out of me.

“Fuck,” Rishav breathed, the reality of it crashing over him. He was filled with his cousin’s load.

Ansh rolled off him, and the sudden absence of his weight left Rishav feeling hollow, cold. But the look in Ansh’s eyes was anything but cold. It was possessive, hungry, and already wanting more. His hand slid down Rishav’s stomach, his fingers following the trail of spent cum on Rishav’s thigh. He brought his fingertips to his own lips, never breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean.

“Tastes like us,” Ansh said, his voice a low growl.

A new, different heat flooded Rishav. The exhaustion was still there, a pleasant ache in his muscles and a deep, satisfied throb in his ass, but it was being overridden by a fresh, insistent need. He wanted to feel that connection again. He wanted to be in control of it.

“I want to ride you,” Rishav said, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess them.

Ansh’s eyes flashed with surprise, then dark approval. “Yeah? You want to get back on this cock already? Greedy fucking slut.”

“I want to feel it… I want to feel all of you moving inside me while I’m on top. I want to watch your face while I take every fucking inch.”

Ansh laid back against the pillows, his thick, muscular frame a feast for Rishav’s eyes. He was already hardening again, his cock thickening and rising against his stomach, slick with their combined fluids. “Then get up here. Show me what you need.”

Rishav moved with a newfound confidence, straddling Ansh’s hips. He reached behind himself, his fingers wrapping around Ansh’s shaft, guiding the blunt, wet head to his loosened, wet hole. He positioned himself, looking down at his cousin’s face, at the raw hunger written there.

Slowly, so slowly, he sank down.

Oh god. The sensation was completely different. He controlled the angle, the depth, the speed. He felt the thick length of Ansh’s cock stretching him open from this new angle, a delicious, filling pressure that made his head spin. A fresh trickle of cum leaked out around the invading thickness, making the slide wetter, hotter, nastier.

“Fuck, Rishav,” Ansh groaned, his hands gripping Rishav’s hips, his knuckles white. “Look at you. Look at my cousin riding my fucking dick. Using my cum as lube.”

Rishav began to move, a slow, grinding roll of his hips. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on Ansh’s chest, feeling the hard muscle there. He set a rhythm, rising up until just the tip remained inside him, then sinking back down, taking him to the root. Each time he dropped down, he felt the wet, hot squelch of Ansh’s seed being displaced inside him.

“You feel so deep like this,” Rishav panted, his eyes locked on Ansh’s. “I can feel you everywhere. I can feel your fucking load sloshing inside me every time I move.”

“Grind on it,” Ansh demanded, his voice strained. “Grind your fucking ass down on my cock. Milk it out. Let me feel it.”

Rishav obeyed, circling his hips, grinding his ass in a tight, dirty circle against Ansh’s pelvis. The friction was incredible, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. He could feel the thick spill of more cum being worked out of him, a warm, slick mess between their bodies.

“I’m gonna…” Ansh started, but his words dissolved into a guttural groan. His body tensed beneath Rishav, his back arching off the bed.

Suddenly, he was pulling Rishav off him, flipping him onto his stomach on the bed with a strength that left Rishav breathless. Before Rishav could even process the movement, Ansh was kneeling behind him, his hands spreading Rishav’s ass cheeks wide open.

“What are you—” Rishav’s question was cut off by a sharp, shocked gasp as Ansh’s tongue, hot and wet and impossibly agile, swiped directly over his hole.

“Fuck!”

Ansh didn’t answer with words. He answered with his mouth. He ate at Rishav’s ass like a man starving, his tongue licking and probing, lapping up the mix of his own cum and Rishav’s sweat that was leaking from his well-used hole. The sound was filthy, wet, and obscene. Rishav buried his face in the sheets, his entire body trembling, his fingers clutching at the mattress.

“Ansh! Oh my god! That’s… that’s your…”

“I know what it is,” Ansh growled against his skin, his breath hot. “It’s my fucking cum dripping out of your perfect fucking ass. And I want to taste it. I want to taste us together.” His tongue pushed inside, a shallow, claiming thrust that made Rishav see stars. He could taste himself on Ansh’s tongue, a salty, musky flavor that was uniquely theirs. It was the most depraved, most intimate thing Rishav had ever experienced. Ansh’s nose was buried in his crease, his tongue working him open, cleaning him, worshipping him in the most vulgar way possible. Rishav was completely lost in the sensation, a willing participant in his own delicious degradation.

After long, mind-melting minutes, Ansh pulled back, breathing heavily. He landed a sharp, stinging slap on Rishav’s ass. “Come on. Shower. I’m not done with you.”

They stumbled into the bathroom, limbs entangled. Ansh turned on the spray, and soon steam was billowing around them. The hot water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the sweat and the initial evidence of their fucking. But as Ansh turned Rishav around, his back to the water, and began to soap his chest, Rishav felt it.

A fresh, warm trickle started its slow path down the inside of his thigh, cutting a clean line through the suds. Ansh’s eyes dropped down, watching it. His hand followed the path, his soapy fingers gently spreading Rishav’s legs further apart.

“Look at that,” Ansh said, his voice husky from the steam. “There’s so much of me in you, pretty cousin. My cum’s still leaking out. You’re still dripping for me.” His slick, soapy finger traced a circle around Rishav’s stretched, sensitive hole, catching a fresh bead of white as it escaped. “Even the hot water can’t wash me out of you.”

10 years. 10 years since high school graduation, and the reunion felt less like a gathering of old friends and more like a carefully staged performance. Jerry, now twenty-eight, sipped a warm soda, watching his high school crush, Jerome, from across the crowded living room.
​Jerome, now twenty-eight as well, looked impossibly better than he had at eighteen. The years hadn’t softened his features; they had only sharpened them, replacing boyish charm with a confident, defined masculinity, string looks, six foot-one with almond brown skin color and hazle eyes. He was laughing, his arm draped easily around Stacy, beautiful southarn bell type blonde hair, blue eye girl who had always been the sun around which every boy—except Jerry—had orbited.

​A painful, familiar throb resonated in Jerry’s chest, a ghost of the obsessive, unrequited love he’d carried like a burden through adolescence. He had spent years trying to erase the memory of Jerome’s easy dismissal:

“You’re my brother, Jer. My best friend.”

​Now, Jerry stood beside Jasmine, 5’4, tanned, korean american, chestnut hair woman, his wife. They were linked by his father’s, Malcom’s law firm connections and the shocking discovery that Jasmine was Jerome’s step-sister. It had felt like destiny then, a desperate, flawed way to keep Jerome in his orbit. They had married after college, had their son, Simon, and established a life built on mutual convenience and polite companionship, never passion.

​“Isn’t it cute?” Jasmine murmured, nudging his arm. “Simon and Claudia.”

​Jerry looked down. Six-year-old Simon, short, half Korean, half Caucasian kid with grey eyes and blonde like his fagher jerry and Asian features like his mother jasmine. Simon, already displaying his father’s serious disposition, was locked in a cold war with five-year-old Claudia, also short, beautiful, mix girl who has mixed features of her parents,Jerome and Stacy. Claudia had light, curly brown hair, light skin girl. Thr eyes like her mother. Blue.

​“She keeps touching my dinosaur,” Simon announced with legalistic disapproval.

​“Well, he keeps looking at me like I’m a bug!” Claudia retorted, eyes narrowed.

​Jerry managed a dry smile. “They’ll be fine. They’re just getting to know each other.”

​The afternoon wore on, heavy with polite conversation and the suffocating pressure of a life he’d chosen but didn’t love. The sight of Jerome’s easy, happy interaction with Stacy from earlier—a happiness Jerry still secretly felt belonged to him—was a lead weight in his stomach. He needed an escape, and the low-calorie soda wasn’t cutting it.

​“I need a real drink,” Jerry muttered to himself.

​He navigated the crowd, seeking the sanctuary of the kitchen. As he passed the central staircase, he heard it—a rhythmic, faint thudding sound coming from above. It wasn’t the bass of music; it was too heavy, too precise, too intimate.

​Mind your own business, Jerry. It’s a huge house. People are— his inner voice screamed, but the curiosity, dark and compelling, had already taken root. It was the same curiosity that had driven him to agree to the blind date with Jasmine once he knew she was connected to Jerome. He was drawn to the drama of the forbidden, even if it destroyed him.
​He eased himself onto the staircase, the laughter from downstairs becoming muffled, distant. The thudding grew louder, punctuated by low, muffled sighs. He crept down the carpeted hallway until he reached the partially closed door of an unoccupied guest room.
​He pushed the door a crack further and his breath hitched, instantly freezing his limbs.
​It wasn’t a stranger. It was not one of the many cousins or relatives attending the party.
​It was Jasmine, his wife, being aggressively taken from behind. And the man pounding into her was Jerome.
​A thousand volts of pure, agonizing shock ripped through Jerry. Betrayal? Yes. Profound, shattering humiliation? Absolutely. But beneath the tidal wave of moral revulsion, a strange, sickening knot began to tighten in his groin. He watched his wife, a woman he shared a child with, with a cold detachment, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man, Jerome, the center of his teenage universe.
​Jerome was slick with sweat, his eyes closed in effort. His voice, usually warm and familiar, was low and guttural.

​“Mmh, yeah baby, tell me who’s is it?” Jerome grunted, his hips driving hard.

​Jasmine’s head was thrown back, her hair a mess on the pillow. “Oh, fuck baby, it’s yours… it’s yours!”

​“Sssh, keep your voice down, princess. You don’t want anyone hearing us having sibling sex.”

​The word sibling hit Jerry like a physical blow, a strange, dark key turning in the lock of his repressed desire. They weren’t blood, but their parents were married—the transgression was doubled, incestuous in spirit if not in biology. It was wrong, unspeakably wrong, yet the forbidden nature of the act, coupled with the sight of Jerome utterly consumed by animal instinct, sent a terrifying, unwanted jolt of heat through Jerry.
​He should have shouted. He should have lunged forward. He should have grabbed Jasmine and dragged her out. But he didn’t. He stood, paralyzed, a witness to his own destruction. His eyes were wide with a mix of disgust and a shameful, horrifying pleasure he hadn’t felt in years. He felt himself hardening, a purely physical, instinctual reaction that made him hate himself in that moment more than he hated them.
​He reached down, his fingers brushing the fabric covering his own erection. He pressed lightly, feeling the sensation, the sheer, wicked adrenaline of the moment fueling a self-loathing arousal. He was watching his life crumble, and he was turned on.

​“Mmh, of course, baby,” Jasmine whispered, looking over her shoulder at the ceiling, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused. “I wouldn’t want them to interrupt us while we’re making… this sweet lo—”
​She cut off with a sudden, sharp gasp of delight. “Ooh, fuck, baby… uuuugh!”

​Jerome’s voice was a low growl. “Yeah, baby, take that gorilla dick. Mmmh fuck, your pussy is so tight for your big brother.”

​Jerry was leaning against the door frame now, his knuckles white, fighting the urge to tear his shirt open just to breathe.
​Then, from the bottom of the stairs, a sudden, loud burst of laughter and a door slamming shut echoed up the stairwell.
​The motion in the room instantly ceased. Jerome snapped his head up, eyes wide and scanning the door. Jasmine twisted, her face still flushed, looking over her shoulder toward the hallway.
​Three pairs of eyes—Jerome’s, Jasmine’s, and Jerry’s—locked in a horrifying, silent triangle of shock, shame, and irreversible exposure. They were busted.
For a long moment, time ceased to exist. In the small, half-open doorway, the three of them were suspended: Jerry, the shocked spectator; Jasmine, the exposed wife; and Jerome, the sweat-slicked friend and step-brother. The laughter that had startled them had died down, the unseen person now vanished into the house. Yet, they remained frozen.
​The silence was heavier than any shout could have been, thick with the stench of betrayal and the sickly-sweet scent of arousal.
​Jerry broke it first. He didn’t speak, he didn’t scream, and he didn’t condemn. He simply turned his back and walked away, his legs stiff. The image of Jerome’s face—a mixture of shame and raw sexual exertion—was seared onto his mind.
​Jerome’s voice, a low hiss of urgency, followed him.

“Jerry! Wait!”

​Jerry heard the frantic shifting behind him, the quick, sickening sound of flesh separating, and the rustle of clothes. Pre-ejaculate residue, thick and shameful, clung to the man and woman who had just shattered his life. But Jerry was already down the stairs and moving toward the glass door leading to the backyard.
​Out on the lawn, the party was still in full swing, blissfully oblivious. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the scent of grilled meat filled the air. Jerry looked at the faces, searching for something—Stacy, maybe, or his son, Simon—but all he saw were strangers inhabiting a world he no longer belonged to.
​His physical response, the shameful hardening, was gone, replaced by a churning, toxic mix of emotions he couldn’t categorize. Anger, yes, absolutely. He was furious at Jasmine, his wife, for the infidelity. He was livid at Jerome for betraying Stacy, his supposed great love. He was disgusted by the incestuous implication, the sibling sex that had momentarily turned him into a voyeuristic pervert.
​But beneath all the noise, the true, agonizing wound was this: The man he had loved since he was fifteen, the man who had dismissed him as a brother, had chosen someone else—his own step-sister—to share a forbidden, destructive passion with. He hadn’t been chosen for the regular life, and he hadn’t been chosen for the secret life either. The realization was sharp, brutal, and humiliating. He felt his eyes watering, not from sadness, but from a rage of unacknowledged, denied love.

​“Jerry?”

​He heard the concern in Stacy’s voice and quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes. Without a word, he turned, pushed through the crowd, got into his car, and drove.
​Stacy watched his abrupt departure, a deep furrow in her brow. Moments later, Jerome and Jasmine appeared in the doorway, both looking winded and far too flushed for people who had only been retrieving drinks. Their sweat-slicked appearances spoke volumes. Stacy felt a cold, dull disappointment settle in her stomach, but she swallowed the realization and kept her mouth shut.
​A week passed in strained, miserable silence. Jerry and Jasmine navigated their house like ghosts. Jerry was consumed by his fury, yet he lacked the willpower to initiate the confrontation, fearing the conversation would lead to him revealing his true, sickening jealousy. Jasmine felt awful for the pain she had caused but was annoyed by Jerry’s withering sarcasm.
​Surprisingly, it was Jerome who broke the silence. He wasn’t focused on Stacy; his relentless texting was directed solely at Jerry, trying to salvage a twenty-year friendship.

​Jerry: what?

Jerome: please I need to see you

Jerry: for what? You fucked my wife. Your own sister! I never want to speak to you again

Jerome: are you sure it’s just that?

​Jerry stared at the screen, his heart hammering against his ribs. Wait, does he know? He frantically scrolled back, replaying the entire awful scene in his head. Had Jerome seen his hand drop to his groin?

​Jerry: what do you mean?

​Jerome didn’t text back. The silence was deafening, filling Jerry with a nervous dread.
​Jasmine descended the stairs, dressed for work.

“I’m taking Simon to school,” she announced, her tone brittle.

​”Good,” Jerry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want you to be late. The firm needs you sharp. Unlike me, who will be here, guarding his house against cheating spouses and incestuous relatives.”

​Jasmine flinched. “Jerry, I apologized. I feel terrible. But you don’t get to treat me like this indefinitely.” She walked out, Simon clutching her hand, oblivious.

​Left alone, Jerry’s mind spiraled. He was divorcing her, of course. Full custody. But the thought struck him with the force of a blow: Simon. Could Simon possibly be Jerome’s son? The idea was maddening, fueling his rage until the doorbell rang.
​It was Jerome.
​Jerry yanked the door open, intending to slam it in his face, but Jerome was quicker and, thanks to his relentless gym routine, physically superior. He wedged his athletic body into the gap, forcing the door open and stepping inside.

​“Just let me explain what you saw last week,” Jerome said, closing the door firmly behind him.

​Jerry immediately turned his back. “You’ve got some nerve coming to my house, trying to force me to hear your explanation! Which I do not want to hear!” Jerry shouted, walking away.
​Jerome followed him, maintaining a deliberate proximity.

“Jerry, please understand that once we met each other, we just had a connection. I liked her a lot, and she and I became each other’s first and—”

​“Spare me the details, alright?” Jerry spun around, his voice raw. “I don’t want to hear it! Bottom line: you fucked my wife. I don’t even think our relationship—our friendship—can be ever repaired because of you two!”

​Jerry started to walk away again, then stopped and turned back, his face contorted.

“Actually, I will say this. Why? Why hurt the woman you claimed you love so much in high school? Why would you do that and not consider—” He cut himself off, the true, desperate question dying in his throat.
​Jerome, now inches away, noticed the sudden halt.

His expression shifted from apologetic to perceptive, almost predatory. “Consider what, Jer?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

​Jerry recoiled, moving back. “No. Stay away from me.”

​“You’re asking why did I cheat on my wife for my sister? Is it out of curiosity for hurting Stacy, or… something else?” Jerome’s eyes bored into him, cold and knowing.

​“I don’t know what you mean,” Jerry replied, stumbling backward until his back hit the frame of the bedroom door.

​Jerome took another step, trapping him. “I think you do, Jer.” Jerome’s hand rested flat on the door, caging Jerry in. “I think last week you were hurt, yes. But not because I fucked your wife. I think you were hurt by the fact that I fucked someone else that wasn’t you.”

​Jerry gasped, his face burning, the truth of it shattering his composure. He was aroused again, his body betraying his righteous anger. He pushed against Jerome’s chest, but his strength failed him.

​“No! Stop it!” Jerry demanded, but the sound was weak.

​Jerome leaned in, his voice a warm, rough whisper in Jerry’s ear. “I could simply give it to you. All you have to do is ask.”

​Jerry squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to fight the temptation. But Jerome’s hard, athletic body was hovering over his, and his own member was painfully hardening against his trousers.

​“Ooh… someone is getting excited,” Jerome whispered, a cruel smirk forming. His erection, already prominent, gently rubbed and ground against Jerry, creating a friction that drew a tortured, lustful moan from Jerry’s lips.
​“Come on, baby… let me suck your cock.”

Snow flurries mixed with sleet bounced over the windshield on my brief drive to work that morning.  Predicted warmer weather later in the morning meant that work was not canceled.  Not that it mattered, either way, I’d be at work, either here at the office or at the IKEA table that served as the dining table in my small apartment.  I lived about a mile away from the building that housed the company I worked for, and I preferred walking, but today was simply too cold.

I slowed the car as I reached the turn for the parking garage, and I felt the tires skid slightly before grabbing onto the pavement again.  It wasn’t that slippery, I thought, but I wondered whether anyone else might be experiencing slick spots on the road.  I found my usual space, and after parking the car, I struggled to get my jacket on.  I should have worn my Bearskin Hoodie with all the pockets.  I actually laughed out loud as I thought of the commercial that had the handsome older men promoting its benefits.  I’m not sure I felt more handsome or virile when I wore it, but it was definitely less bulky in the car.

The wind whipping through the parking garage slapped me hard and left a sting on my skin.  The temperature had better warm up, I decided; otherwise, I’d insist my team head home after lunch.  Precipitation was in the forecast, and the freezing rain predicted for the area north of us could easily envelop us as well.

That Friday morning was pretty routine.  The end-of-the-week meeting wasted a good forty-five minutes of time as each department reported that it had almost reached the goal for the week.  I reported the same even though I always planned for four days of work, and we had reached our goal by the end of Thursday’s work day.  Occasionally I would announce that we had completed things early, but I didn’t want to set expectations that the database maintenance department were miracle workers.  We worked hard and got our job done.  No one needed the burden of the stress of overpromising and the risk of underdelivering.

By eleven o’clock, the outside temperature had reached thirty-eight, and most of us were disappointed that we weren’t leaving until four.  I would have preferred working from home.  I’m an introvert, and it takes a lot of energy for me to interact with people in the office, especially when it has nothing to do with work.

People like to small talk.  I don’t.  Tell me what you want and go away.  That’s one of the problems I had with trying to get a boyfriend.  I’d had a few dates, but no one clicked.  Even when I chatted on line with someone and thought he might be a match.  Usually, the guys were too needy. I tried to convince myself that I was better off this way.  Porn and a handjob was enough when I needed some sexual release.

On that afternoon, I was clearing up some loose ends when Tommy Dahl came into my office.  His face was one of stressed seriousness, and I was certain that I didn’t want to hear what he had to tell me.  

“First of all,” he said, “I don’t want you to be offended by anything I say.”

The possibility that I would be offended just went up, but I remained stoic and quiet.

“My group of friends,” he continued, then he paused as he considered how to delicately say the rest.  “My group of gay friends, you do know that I’m gay, right?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I told him.  “You never wear rainbow shirts or have dildos on your desk, so it never really crossed my mind.”  I wondered whether he got the deeper meaning of what I was saying.   I believed that your love life and bedroom business had no place at the office, so I never brought it up with anyone.  

Then a dreadful thought crossed my mind.  Was he about to ask me out?  I said a quick prayer.  Please don’t ask me out.  Tommy wasn’t my type, not in the least.  He was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but I’m not interested in you, Tommy.  I didn’t tell him that though…

He interrupted my train of thought.  “Well, I am, and since you never talk about girls, I assume you are, too.  

I didn’t react.  Big assumption, I thought, even though it was correct.

“My friends and I have decided to have a get-together.  Each of us is supposed to bring a gay friend who is unattached.  The hope is that one or two of them might meet someone at the party, and love will blossom.  It sounded like a great idea when we first talked about it, but now I’m not sure.  Plus, I don’t have an unattached friend to bring.”

Well, at least he doesn’t consider me a friend.  I remained quiet but irritated.  He assumed I was unattached.  The fact that I was had no bearing on the case.  I guess that he assumes no one likes me well enough to be my boyfriend.  I felt my insecurities rising.

Sure, I was a twenty-nine-year-old male with no true friends and a non-existent list of lovers.  HIV had frightened me into celibacy during my college years, and a lack of social skills had prevented me from finding someone with whom I could share my life. My doctor suggested I get on a PReP program thinking it might ease some of my concerns and make me a little more sociable.  While I wasn’t on the autism spectrum, I did share some traits, and I’d overheard people saying I was weird.

Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself accepting the invitation. In a large part because Tommy said he would owe me a favor if I did this for him.  Plus, I had nothing to lose, and maybe, just maybe, I could find someone who would see beyond my awkward exterior. The party was at Stuart and Tommy’s place, and as I approached the door, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the evening ahead.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively, with couples mingling and unattached men making the best of the situation.  I immediately felt out of place.  I counted three couples and five unattached men, making me the sixth. As I scanned the room, my eyes immediately fell on Neal. He glanced up at me as I came in. His green eyes sparkled with an intensity that drew me in, and his brown wavy hair added to his allure. Neal was average in the looks department, but he was fit and slightly muscular, a stark contrast to his introverted demeanor. He was sitting by himself and after giving me a quick look, he began to study the pattern in the carpet. While no one seemed to notice him, I was intrigued and decided to introduce myself.  If nothing came of it, I could always tell Tommy that I tried.

“Hi, I’m Mark,” I said.  I knew I should extend my hand, but I hated when strangers touched me.  I didn’t want to have to excuse myself to wash my hands. “Tommy invited me.”

Neal hesitated for a moment before offering me a fist bump. I made a fist and held it out.

“Neal. I’m here because Stuart and Tommy think I’ll never find a boyfriend. Stuart’s my cousin, but he thinks I’m a loser because I won’t go out with him to gay bars. He figures that in a group of losers, one loser might find another loser.  But I’m not a loser.”

“I’m not either.  Maybe your premise is incorrect. Maybe he realizes that people who don’t like crowds need another way to meet other people who don’t like crowds.”

“Those other guys don’t seem to have a problem with crowds.”

 I felt a pang of empathy and a desire to run my fingers through his hair and have him look at me with those green eyes.  I decided on a different approach. “Well, then, maybe we should go where there aren’t any crowds. We could go back to my apartment and talk and kiss and…”

““Could we fuck, too?  I’ve always wanted to,” said Neal.

“I was thinking the same thin. Yeah, we can.  You can fuck me.  Can I fuck you?”

Neal’s eyebrows raised.  “Of course.  It’s only fair that we each get to.  Let’s suck first, OK?”

“Yes.  We can tell them later that we hit it off and spent the night together.”

Neal’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Let’s go.  Did you drive?  I didn’t.”

And so, our crazy night began. We left the party quietly, escaping the awkward social dynamics and heading to my place. The drive was filled with a charged silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we entered my apartment, the tension between us was palpable.

I took Neal straight to the bedroom.  

“Nice room.  My room is in the basement; it was supposed to be the guest room.”  Neal swept the room with his eyes as if recording it for an inspection.  “Yes.”

I stood directly in front of him.  His green eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the desire simmering beneath his introverted exterior. I kissed him, feeling his body respond to mine, and we began to undress each other, our movements fueled by a mix of curiosity and pent-up longing.

I traced the lines of his body with my fingers, feeling the contours of his muscles. Neal’s skin was warm and inviting, and I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against my palm. He reached out to touch me, his hands exploring my chest and shoulders with a gentle yet insistent curiosity.

We took our time, savoring each moment as if it were a precious gift. I lay Neal down on the bed, my body covering his as I kissed him deeply. His hands gripped my back, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. We moved together, our bodies pressing against each other, seeking more contact, more intimacy.

I trailed kisses down his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my lips. Neal’s breath hitched as I moved lower, my tongue exploring the sensitive skin of his collarbone. He arched into me, his body begging for more, and I complied, my hands roaming over his chest and stomach.

Neal’s touch was both tentative and bold, a contradiction that only served to heighten my desire. He ran his fingers through my hair, his grip tightening as I took one of his nipples into my mouth. I could feel his heartbeat race as I lavished attention on his chest, my teeth grazing his sensitive skin.

We moved in a slow, sensual dance, our bodies learning each other’s rhythms. Neal’s hands explored every inch of me, his touch both gentle and demanding. I could feel the tension building between us, a coil of desire that threatened to unravel at any moment.

With his hand encircling my penis, Neal examined it as if it were a lab specimen.  “I’m fascinated by foreskins,” he said. He pushed the foreskin back, exposing the head of my erection.  He licked the head tentatively before sliding the entire shaft into his mouth.  He pulled back. “I like the way that feels.”

“You did that like an expert,” I said.  “It felt really good.”

“That’s my first time, but I read how to do it.  I’m glad you liked it.”

I shifted positions so that I could suck him as he sucked me. The intensity was incredible.  As we moved together, our bodies mingling, I could feel the connection deepening. We changed positions.  Neal lay between my legs; his eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw a vulnerability that touched my soul. I kissed him deeply, pouring all my feelings into the embrace, and he responded with a fervor that matched my own.

Using saliva to moisten my hole, Neal again was precise.  His entrance into my body was gentle and firm. It was more than being physically filled; I was joined to a man who seemed to complete me in a way that I couldn’t understand or explain.

The night was a whirlwind of passion and exploration. We discovered each other’s bodies, each touch and kiss a revelation. Neal’s reserved nature gave way to a fierce intensity, and I found myself captivated by his hidden depths. We moved together, our bodies in sync, as if we had been made for each other.

As the night wore on, we took breaks to talk. Neal was extremely intelligent; he admitted to having an IQ test that yielded a score over 180. “I don’t think like other people,” he said. “I have trouble relating.”

“I think we’re relating pretty well right now,” I told him. We interspersed our conversation with more intimate moments. Neal shared his insecurities and fears, and I found myself opening up in a way I hadn’t with anyone else. There was a connection between us, a bond forged in the heat of passion and the vulnerability of shared secrets. He seemed to understand me, and I wanted to understand him.

By morning, we were both exhausted but content. A light snow had started falling, and we stood at the window using the curtains to block our nudity from the world.  “It’s snowing again,” I said.

“Ice crystals are beautiful things,” Neal commented and then turned to look at me.

“So are certain men with green eyes.”

“I like your chin,” Neal commented as he ran his finger along my jawline.

“Would you like to stay for more Saturday play?”

Neal smiled; his green eyes sparkled. “I’d like that.”

And so, our unexpected encounter turned into something more, a promise of future adventures and a chance to explore the depths of our connection.

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