Author: admin

  • Sky and I

    Im a 6’2 foot tall basketball player, i have toned tanned abs and big biceps. I have blonde scruffy hair that comes just above my eyes.I have always been a big hit with the ladies but secretly love boys more than girls.

    I was at the gym one day on the running machine when the only other person at the gym came over and started running on the machine next to me. We started talking just about random things then he asked me if he could take his red top off because there was no air con. I said sure and he took it off showing a perfect six pack nicely tanned and glistening with small amounts of sweat.

    After we had finished in the gym we decided to go to the pool to cool off. We started swimming around for about 10 mins then decided to go on the diving board. sky went up the ladders first and i could see his muscular ass because he was wearing small speedos. I instantly got hard showing my 7″ cock poke out. He dived off and he landed but his trunks came off, I dived and when i landed he saw my cock and he became hard also. I could see his 12″ cock because he had lost his small speedos when he landed. I asked if i could take off my shorts as a joke but to my surprise he said yes i took them off he looked at me winked and said your so cute i wanna fuck you right now. I swam over to him jumped on him and we kissed under the water.

    We got out after about 10 mins of kissing and touching eacher and headed for the showers. We both went in one cubical just because we were so horny. sky bent down to get the soap when i shoved my cock up his tinny ass hole and fucked him. I let out alot of pre cum in his ass and he let it all out and it dribbled along his legs. We fucked for about 10 mins then started rimming each other and cum swapping.

    We got out of the shower and he put his jock strap on to keep his 9″ soft cock in place. I put on my tight white briefs but because my cock was still dripping cum it started to become see through.We headed back to his place so we could get changed and go have a night out.

    We got dressed and headed to a local gay bar. We went in ordered drinks and went onto the dance floor. We started to get horny again because we saw lots of people giving blowjobs and giving anal. We decided to take off all of our clothes and went over to the seating area. I lay him down on the table and shoved my tongue and 3 of my fingers in his butt. We kept swapping which position we were doing and what we were doing.

    Then 2 men came over and started jacking off to use masturbating each other so we asked them if they wanted to join in and they agreed so we had the best foursome anyone had ever seen.


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  • Night Dreams

    Having Stefan close to me as I fell asleep was ever so wonderful. Having been away from each other for several weeks, he returned from his trip abroad and called me as soon as he arrived. While not lovers, so to say, he and I share a friendship closer than anyone I know. To have him close not only comforted me, but excited me as well. His body warmed mine as the cold winter winds chilled the night. With my arms holding him tight as I laid on my side up against his back, I could feel the muscles that gave the form and definition to his handsome body. Although built bigger than me, he was lean and firm. Standing at over six feet tall, and with piercing blue eyes, he often seemed to loom large over others. Yet he was tender and smooth and would hardly harm another.

    Although several years younger than I, being only in his early twenties, Stefan was wise beyond his years. And so our friendship developed over many weeks and evolved into a deeply passionate affair. I always looked forward to these nights where we share a bottle of wine, intense conversation, and always closing the evening with passionate love making and deep rest.

    Tonight, however, was different. Stefan and I did find ourselves going to sleep together, as he quietly laid down on the bed. His demeanor led me to believe that we would simply sleep together. And I was fine with that, just so long as I could hold him close to me and let the night pass us by.

    Roughly an hour had passed when I was slowly awakened by his body moving up against mine. Holding him from behind, my cock became hardened by the pressure of his ass rubbing against me. With Stefan dressed in loose boxer shorts and a t-shirt, and I in my briefs and t-shirt, our bodies did not physically touch skin to skin, but the sheer pressure of his body against mine aroused me. Wanting to see whether he was awake and enjoying this moment as well, I slowly moved my left hand down his chest, along his abs, and under the top of his boxers. At first my hand felt his soft and curly pubic hair and quickly grazed his hardened cock. It was clear he was enjoying this moment, yet he did not respond. He moved some more, again allowing his ass to press against my cock.

    I couldn’t help but to wrap my hand around his hardened cock. His cock was hard, yet with soft, smooth skin. I began to stroke his cock, feeling his foreskin slide back and forth over his cockhead. He started to softly moan. As I stroked him, I gently kissed his neck, moving his long hair aside. He again softly moaned, yet made no motion with his hands or even attempted to slightly turn to me. He simply allowed me to feel his raging hard-on.

    Not wanting him to climax too fast, I moved my hand away from his cock and up under his t-shirt to his nipples. I played with each of his nipples, allowing my figures to feel each one and to gently pinch each one between my fingers. As I played with him, I began to thrust my cock harder against his ass. Wanting to release my cock, I moved my hand from his chest and pulled down my briefs. I wanted more, and so I even more boldly pulled his boxers down so as to feel the soft ass of his against my cock. He made no protest; rather, he pressed himself against me. Now I knew he was awake, despite each of us saying nothing to each other.

    I again began to stroke his hard, thick cock. Our bodies moved together with each stroke. I wanted more, and so I leaned back, turned him on his back and went down to his cock. His foreskin was beautiful over his cockhead. I went further down and began to lick his legs, just going up to his balls. As I did, he began to stroke his cock, enjoying me getting closer and closer to him. I moved his hand from his cock and wrapped my lips around his cockhead, which now extended out from the reach of his foreskin. I sucked him more and more, and his hands ran through my hair, slowly pushing my head.

    Stefan pulled me up and began to kiss me. He turned me over on to my back. My cock was firm and hard, and he stroked me harder and harder. Then sitting upon my cock, he started to grind up against me. His balls pressed against me and his cock pointed to me. I masturbated him and he moved faster and faster. Sensing I was hard as could be, he lifted up and sat again on my cock, leading it inside of his ass. My cockhead slowly entered him, the warmth incredible. He slowly lowered his body allowing me to penetrate him deeper and deeper. Moaning, he allowed me to fully enter him. Stefan began to move his body and up and down, allowing me to slide into his ass. As he did, I stroked his hard cock harder and faster with each and every time I moved in his body. Unable to control myself any longer, I came inside of him. He groaned with delight and I felt his cock shoot out his cum which streamed across my chest and abs.

    Resting for a few moments, Stefan leaned forward and lifted his ass off my cock. Then lowering his body, he laid upon me, our cocks still hard against each other and drenched with cum. We laid like that for some time, kissing each other until we slowly fell asleep, our bodies close to each other.

    Feedback about this story would be welcomed, as I am new to writing erotica.


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  • Locker Room Flip Flop

    JT and I get together for some one on one bball at the local gym once a week. Normally he whips my ass. I wasn’t gonna let him this week though. The gym was pretty empty save for a few people running, after all it was mid-afternoon. We started off the game pretty neck n neck, but soon it was off to the same thing that happens every week. JT uses his strength and his size to outplay me. I was getting thrown all over the court. Soon enough, he hit 50 points and we were done. We grabbed our stuff and headed for the locker room.

    “I whooped your ass once more,” he said, laughing as we entered.

    “Yeah, yeah, it only because you play rough,” I joked back.

    The only other guy in the room finished up and walked out as we were unlocking our lockers. “I swear, I’ll beat you next week,” I told JT. “We were actually pretty close this time.”

    “I went easy on ya.” He shot a smile at me, his pearly whites glistening in contrast to his sweaty, tan skin. We’d been friends for years, goin to the same high school and now goin to the local college as well. I’d always been attracted to him, but we were just great friends. I’d jack off thinking about him, but that’s it. I never let him know that, because I didn’t want it to ruin anything.

    “You’re gettin better though. Especially when you knocked me down. I didn’t know you had it in ya,” He said. He was acting kinda strange today, like everything he said was all a front.

    He flashed me another smile as he leaned down and pulled off his baggy shorts and his jockstrap, exposing me to his perfectly muscular, bubble butt. I’d seen it tons of times, but it gets me horny every time. The sweat glistened off his rippling back as he put his clothes in his locker and grabbed his towel. I quickly stripped my sweaty clothes as well and followed.

    Now JT is just a hunk of a man. Tan all over, save his underwear line, with white teeth, bulky torso, and prickly 5 o’clock shadow. He was built like a god, a wrestler in high school. His huge thighs framed his perfect ass and his meaty cock swung menacingly between his legs. But, the thing that sent me over the top were his eyes. There’s something super sexy about a man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

    I followed his swinging cock into the shower room and hung up my towel. He already had his shower on and was wiping the sweat off his body. There were no dividers between shower heads so I walked up to the one right next to his and grabbed the bar of soap to follow in suit with him.

    “It feels good doesn’t it,” JT said to me, I assumed just about how nice it was to get a shower after a sweaty game. He turned toward me so his full glory was in my sight. Just then the bar slipped out of my hands and fell onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and when I looked back up, I was face to face with his huge member. My heart beat quickly and I thought to myself ‘is this it?’

    Just then I felt his hand touch my head and pull me in. I took his giant dick in my mouth, sliding my tongue down the bottom side of his dick. His meat felt so good in there. I felt it start getting hard and I backed up, admiring his manhood. With the water slamming against my back I took a couple more good sucks on it before coming back up to great his lips. They were more than I could handle. They were so plump and his tongue was so strong, we sucked on each other’s faces for quite awhile, years of pent up sexual tension being released.

    His hands roamed down my chiseled torso and finally found my stiffening cock. He stroked it’s length while our tongues danced with each other. He pulled away, shot me another one of those disastrous smiles, and went down on my cock, cupping my balls in his hand.

    The pleasure was incredible. Years of weightlifting had made his whole body strong, even his mouth, as his tongue danced around my cockhead and his hands gently fondled my balls.

    “Let’s go all the way,” he grinned up at me, those piercing blue eyes burning with lust.

    “Let’s move somewhere a little more comfortable first.” I grabbed his cock as he got up and walked him back to the changing bench, water dripping from our bodies. We kissed, passionately for a little while longer, before he shoved me down on the bench. He bent down and took my thighs in his huge hands, and licked all the way from my taint up my hairy balls to the head of my cock. The pleasure was incredible.

    Just then I felt his tongue start to play with the outside of my asshole. I let out a soft moan as he played around down there. Finally enough was enough. I told him to get on with it and he stood up, leaned over the bench to my face, gave me another hot kiss, and hocked a big spit into his palm. After lathering up his cock and my asshole, he put his huge dick to my ass and began to fuck me.

    “Arggghnnnhgh,” I moaned in pain as he shoved his dick all the way in. He slowly started going back and forth, but quickly picked up rhythm. I looked up at him, the subject of my desires, finally fucking my ass. His face was of intense enjoyment as more sweat started trickling down his short, buzzed hair. He grabbed my cock and started stroking it too.

    “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he confessed to me. I was shocked. Damn! I thought. I could’ve had this sooner!

    “Well now you’ve got me!” I replied. “Take my ass like the champ you are.”

    And he did. His pace quickened as he shoved is warm cock in my hole, his balls slapping against my ass. Just then I felt him grab my cock tightly as he tossed his head back. I felt loads of hot juice fill me up. His juice. It was awesome. He leaned forward, grabbing my pecs and twisted my nipples around. That right there was enough to send me over, after all that had happened. I shot my load all over my chest, he deflating dick still inside me. But we weren’t done.

    “You’re turn,” He said, a little winded.

    He pulled out and leaned over, kissing me again, our lips dancing in the suckfest we were having. Using his brute strength, he picked me off the bench, our faces still locked. We stood there once more, my hard on rubbing up against his chest. We switched places and he sat down on the bench, pulling my dick toward him. He cupped my balls once more, gazed at me with those blue eyes, and started getting me hard again. I rubbed my hands over his head, fucking his face, and before long I was completely hard.

    “Take my ass,” he ordered me. And I gladly obliged. Pushing him back onto the bench, I knelt between his legs and shot my tongue into his asshole. God! It tasted so good. After tongue punching his hole a couple times, I inserted a finger, turning it gently in his hole. I could hear JT’s groans as I inserted a second finger in it, making sure he was nice and loose before I fucked this muscle god.

    I backed up, and wiped my cum, still on my chest, into my hands. Then using my own cum as lube, I shot my rod into his tight, bubble hole. He let out a yelp of pleasure and pain as I didn’t take him easy, but started fucking like a rabid beast.

    I bounced him back and forth as I worshipped his muscles, pulling down close to lick his nipple and suck on some more of his muscular tongue. I fucked his hole nice and hard for some time, jacking off his mushroom-headed dick too. He soon blew his load again, giving me some nice cum to rub around on his hairy chest. The pleasure I was getting from feeling his tight hole close in on my cock was tremendous and soon I was ready to blow my load too. I started to pull out so I could mix my cum with his, but then he shouted, “NO! I’ve waited for this for two years, no other guy have I wanted the cum inside of me from more than yours.”

    I shoved my dick back in, rapidly fucking his ass. I grabbed onto his chiseled pec. It was so hot and firm. Staring into his eyes, I reached my climax and let loose 6 loads of sperm inside him. I shuddered, squeezing his pec for support, and finally collapsed on top of him.

    “We’re not done yet,” I grinned up at him. I pulled out, bent down, and started licking his asshole again. I licked up every last bit of cum drooling out. My cum. Then, with a mouth full of my own cum, I snuggled on top of him and let it loose in his mouth. Our passionate kissed seemed to last forever, as our hands explored each others muscles, deflating crotches still grinding against one another.

    “I think we know what we’ll be doing when we hang out from now on,” he smiled up at me.

    I gave him a peck on the lips, “Anytime. For you, I could go all night. Come on,” I said as I got up, pulling his neck up with me. “We’ve gotta go take another shower now.”

    We laughed as we returned back to our still running faucets and in a bout of perfect timing, a man walked in from after work, the first and only person to walk in since we were in the locker room. I looked into his blue eyes once more as we smirked and showered off.

    Needless to say, our ball games have continued, weekly, but we now hook up at night 2-3 times a week.


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  • Chemistry

    Bass. All I hear is my breathing and the bass. 

    “You want me?” he asks.

    I shouldn’t even be here. “Uh huh.”

    He’s close enough to radiate some of that incredible heat onto my body, but doesn’t touch me. “You can’t have me unless you ask.”

    “Please.” I have to swallow to get the word out. I’ll drown in my own lust before our skin makes contact.

    Without a smile he asks. “Please, what?”

    Fucking asshole.

    “Just, please!” I reach forward but he steps back. I drop my hand.

    He’s sly; he knows how he looks, what men would do for a chance to be near him. “What do you want?”

    “I want you.”

    Finally he steps in to put one powerful thigh between mine. “Where do you want me?” he growls in my ear.

    I shut my eyes. “Inside.”

    “Inside what?”

    Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I’ll do anything if you’ll just bend me over and fuck me.“Inside me.”

    Teasing me, talking so close that I can feel his lips move, he asks, “How do you want me inside of you?”

    “Fuck me.” I don’t talk like this. I never talk like this. I’ve never begged for anyone before, but I’ll do it now.

    “Magic word.”

    “Fuck me, please!” I tell myself it’s perfectly okay to debase myself for an Adonis I’ll never see again. I’m visiting, he’s probably a man whore, but if I can fuck him tonight it won’t matter if I don’t get breakfast in the morning or even a name.

    “You want me to fuck you here? In this nasty-ass bathroom?”

    “Yes.”

    “You’re not even taking your clothes off? Fucking whore.”

    I don”t care. Ripping the foil from the condom I kneel to roll it over the mighty prick, the one I felt pressed against me on the dance floor, the whole reason I followed him to the bathroom. It’s thick, long, at least eight inches if not more. I might be one crazy motherfucker for thinking I can take it.

    “Make sure you kiss it while you’re down there. That’s it. Now stand up. Face the wall. Feet farther apart. Get ready. Breathe.”

    The initial pain is almost unbearable. “Oh, god!” My legs are going to collapse. My guts will spill out of my mouth and my tombstone will read, Here lies some asshole who died getting porked by some stranger in a disgusting nightclub toilet stall.

    “That’s my cock up your ass, fucker.”

    “Fucking shit! Fuck fuck fuck!”

    “Arch your back.” He raps me with his knuckles for emphasis. “Relax. Let me in.” He isn’t coaxing me. Every syllable is a command. He pulls out a little, spits on his cock, and pushes again. I should have taken those damn poppers, I think. I don’t like being high or drunk, but had I known my night out would end in a rectal enlargement I would have taken any extra help.

    “Get on my cock,” he orders. “Open your hole and take it.” Breathing heavily through my mouth I do my best. I push back at him, sliding inch by painful inch onto that monster. “That’s it,” he says approvingly. He pats my ass, which should not make me feel good about myself, but it does. I’m going to pass out.

    “You’re too big,” I whine.

    “You can take it.”

    “I can’t.” Bracing my forearms on the sticky wall, I try to relax. It’s impossible. 

    “You will. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take my cock until it fucks the cum right out of your balls, do you understand me?”

    “Yes.”

    He grabs my hair to look me in the eyes. “Yes?”

    “Yes.” I can’t say no to that fierce gaze. “Now relax and let me fuck you.”

    The dance floor demigod pulls his hips back and begins to fuck me. He doesn’t build up, just uses his meat as a jackhammer to excavate a home for his gorilla dick. I bite my forearm and try to tilt my ass so that the fucking actually feels good. When I find that angle it’s obvious – as soon as the hot stranger’s cock punches my G spot I cry out, screaming into my hands.

    The man ruffles my hair. “Good boy!” he congratulates me with utter condecension. “That’s a good little slut. Now I don’t have to go easy on you.” 

    Holy shit! “You’ve been holding back!?” I exclaim, looking over my shoulder at him.

    His big hands wrap around my waist and he grins. “Baby, you ain’t never gonna be fucked like this again.”

    The next thrust shuts me up. God, he’s so rough, not giving a shit if I cry or moan. He slaps my ass and then kneads it, making me squirm to escape that pain even as I shove myself onto his marauding dick. He fucks me so hard that I have trouble breathing; every time I gasp for air this stranger pulls me onto his cock.

    “You like that, bitch?” he asks. “Answer me.”

    “Yes,” I choke out. My toes are going numb.

    “What?”

    “Yes!”

    “What do you like?”

    I can hear footsteps outside the stall. Someone else is in here, listening to me get fucked like a common whore, and I don’t care. I reply, “I like your cock inside me.”

    I do. It touches every inch of me, every cell, knocks me around and feeds my hunger. If he were to pull out now I would die. I need it. 

    “Yeah, you like the way I fuck that sexy tight ass, don’t you.”

    “Yeah.” 

    “Get your hand on your dick,” he commands. “That’s right, jack yourself hard, because I’m going to fuck your own jizz into your hand, and then I’m going to come in your ass. That’s what you want, right?” 

    “God yeah,” I gasp.

    “Why?”

    He’s fucking me so hard I can barely get the words out. “Because I need it. I crave it. I need you to fill me up. I need you to come. I need your cum inside me.”

    My ass is on fire. My dick feels like it’s made of pure energy, and I’m close to setting it off like a rocket.

    “You sound like a pussy. Are you a fucking pussy?”

    “Yes.” I’m a hole to be used, I’m a lover, I’m anything he wants. 

    “Whose pussy, bitch?” He slaps my jiggling buttocks.

    “Yours, goddammit! I’m your pussy!”

    He comes on a groan, bottoming out but still humping into me so that my feet leave the ground, and I grab onto the top of the stall in desperation because I’m coming, too, shooting so hard it covers the wall and hits me in the chin.

    “Fuck!” I say, jerking. “Fuck!” The son of a bitch pulls out before I’m ready and I nearly collapse.

    “Stay where you are,” he orders. I smell the sharp odor of a permanent marker a moment before the stranger pulls my ass cheeks apart and blows on my raw, swollen opening. The marker’s felt tip tickles, but the sensation pales in comparison to the sudden pain of teeth on my ass.

    “Holy fuck! Ow!” I yelp, finally finding enough strength and dignity to turn around and yank my pants up. “What, were you raised by wolves?”

    “I’m leaving,” Adonis informs me as he stands and throws the used condom in the toilet. He has the gall to wipe his spermy cock on my shirt. “Call me if you want a rematch.”

    He leaves without another word. I need to find someone with a hand mirror so I can write down his number before it rubs off in my underwear. 


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  • The Epiphany

    When I first began my journey into BDSM, all that I had studied and read, the inner core of my beliefs with D/s, BD etc, was pain. It was the pain = pleasure principle. At this time all my technique and thought, style, etc centered on that. It was my whole focus. I built myself around the philosophy of sadism, since sadists enjoyed the control and giving of, the production and infliction of pain onto the sub/bottom etc or so I thought.

    This was my ethos.

    After a few years, I was having a conversation with a submissive I had played with and respected very much. During the course of the conversation, we were taking about scenes, play styles and philosophies. I remember what was said quite clearly as it jarred me to attention with the completion of the statement.

    “not all submissives are into pain”.

    This was the moment of my epiphany. It wasn’t during a mentorship or scene or reading from a book. It came from a very hard core player and extreme pain slut during a casual conversation. I had felt like I was hit by a bdsm bolt of lightning.

    “not all submissives are into pain”.

    it seemed so fundamental, so easy and plain and two feet from my domly nose. Yet that belief never crossed my mind, not as a player or Dom nor sadist. It crossed it at a point when i was securing a style of play cemented with the core belief that pain is pleasure.

    How strange and new this was. It was different yet liberating and allowed me to even develop a style I had repressed from myself that was in myself. I felt emancipated. I thought that soft and fluffy and warm and sensual was for ‘nilla edge players ready to graduate into the kink diving platform of bdsm. What was the not so challenging part was I had as much creativity to journey and explore this realm as I had with the edgier stuff I was doing before it. In fact tactile stimulation was almost instinctive to me and starting off edgier and harder actually made it easier for me to transition into the bottom’s mind of sensual and tactile play.

    There was a different tone and style of music, different toys, a different sense of tempo, strokes and emotions. It was enlightening and I so easily identified with it. It was a strange awakening to a different type of play.

    I think back to that conversation. I use it in negotiations and identify what the bottom is into. I remind myself about that epiphany and of those words.

    ‘not all submissives are into pain’.

  • A hard lesson in showering

    “Turner!” shouted the P.E. teacher. Turner looked anxiously back towards where the shout had emanated from. “Get in my office, at once!” bellowed the teacher. Turner hurried nervously into the P.E. teacher’s office. “And close the door, Turner!” shouted Mr. Murray. Turner swiftly obliged.

    “Turner, at the end of last lesson, do you remember what I told you miserable lot?” Turner looked down sheepishly. “Well !!!”

    “Shall I remind you, Turner? I said that I wanted every pupil to shower thoroughly. Do you remember that instruction, Turner? It was only last week. I said I didn’t want boys from my lessons leaving here stinking or covered in mud after rugby. Do you remember now, Turner?” Turner nodded, dejectedly.

    “And do you remember what I said would happen to boys who didn’t wash properly? Do you?”

    Turner spoke softly, “You said you would humiliate them, Sir”.

    “Yes Turner, that is right, I said I would humiliate them and I said if necessary, I would shower them myself to ensure they left here clean.”

    “I did shower thoroughly, Sir”, Turner stammered.

    “Yes, you may have showered, but did you ensure you were clean? You are quite old enough to know how to wash, Turner, since you are nearly 17.”

    “I am clean, Sir”, said Turner.

    “Well your ‘mate’ Henderson, has just told me that there is still mud up the back of your legs Turner, and if there is Turner, you will have to have another shower.”

    “But its lunch time”, said Turner. “I don’t care what time it is Turner, you are not leaving these changing rooms unless you are clean. You know the rules.”

    “Yes Sir.”

    “Do you know the rules, Turner?”

    “Yes, Mr. Murray.”

    “Right, if you are clean you won’t having anything to worry about, will you? Right turn around, drop your trousers and let me see the back of your legs.” Turner looked shocked but he knew that Mr. Murray was in no mood to be messed around with. Slowly he turned round. He faced the door he had just come through. Whilst he read the safety rules for swimming on the back of the door, he unbuckled his belt, undid the button, lowered his fly and let his trousers drop to the floor. Turner felt self conscious standing with his white briefs and prayed no one would walk in.

    Mr. Murray allowed his eye to wander up the back of Turner’s legs, right to where the white briefs tightly covered Turner’s bottom.

    “There is mud splattered up your left leg, Turner!”

    “But Sir, I …..” began Turner.

    “Shut up!” interrupted Mr. Murray. “I said everyone was to wash properly or they don’t leave this changing room.”

    “Right then,” Mr. Murray angrily snarled, “did you use any deodorant?”

    “Yes Sir!” said Turner.

    “You said you had washed yourself and you lied! Right, shirt off, I want to see if you used deodorant.” Turner turned round to face Mr. Murray, whose face was glowering with rage. Turner had to steady himself as his trousers were still round his ankles. Turner crouched to hitch up his trousers. “Leave those alone,” shouted Mr. Murray, “I haven’t got all day. Shirt off!”

    Turner nervously began to undo the buttons of his shirt, his hairy muscular chest was gradually revealed and he slipped off his shirt and placed it on the desk in front of him. Mr. Murray walked round from behind the desk to face Turner.

    “Right then, arms up!”

    Turner raised his arms. He felt vulnerable just wearing tight white briefs and his trousers still around his ankles. With his arms raised, Mr. Murray bent forward and pushed his nose into Turner’s hairy arm pit. Mr. Murray inhaled deeply and Turner wondered if he could feel Mr. Murray’s lips but he doubted it.

    “No deodorant there, Turner, you stink!” yelled Mr. Murray, as he pulled back. Mr. Murray was now incandescent with rage. “When I ask you boys to do something, I expect it to be done. I ask for cleanliness, and you ignore me. I will not have boys leaving my lessons and going to other lessons stinking; it reflects on me”.

    There was a pause. Turner wondered what would happen next.

    “Right, Turner, did you put on a clean pair of underpants?” demanded Mr. Murray. Turner knew he had; it was more than his life was worth not to. “Yes Sir, these are clean,” said Turner pointing to his white briefs.

    “Right I want them off, I want to examine them”, sneered Mr. Murray.

    Turner blushed as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his feet clear of his trousers. With a deep breath he moved his hands to the top of his briefs.

    “Turn around Turner, I don’t want to see your miserable appendage”, said Mr. Murray. Turner turned once again, his hands slowly lowered his pants revealing his hairy backside. Turner removed his pants completely and felt his cheeks burn as he stood naked. Mr. Murray walked forward and snatched the briefs. Turner looked straight ahead but he could see a reflection of Mr. Murray in the office door window.

    “Right let’s have a look”, said Mr. Murray.

    Turner could see Mr. Murray tentatively bringing the white briefs up for inspection. But instead of looking in them, Mr. Murray gently rubbed the briefs against his face and he again inhaled deeply as he held them against his nose. In the reflection, Turner couldn’t tell whether Mr. Murray’s eyes closed in disgust or with pleasure. He soon found out.

    The pants were hurled at the back of his neck.

    “Turner, they are disgusting”, shouted Mr. Murray. “I don’t even want to touch them, you, you filthy little git. Get those pants back on and then I am taking you for a shower.”

    Turner could tell that Mr. Murray was furious and he felt very intimidated. Mr. Murray virtually frogmarched Turner towards the showers.

    “Right, get under that shower Turner and get yourself cleaned up, and I am going to stand here and make sure you do it properly.”

    Turner felt so embarrassed and he knew his face was bright red. He stalled for a fraction before he started to walk towards the nearest shower head, uncertain and reluctant about removing his white briefs.

    “You can keep those on”, remarked Mr. Murray, “I don’t want to be put off my lunch”. Immensely relieved, Turner headed to the nearest of the six shower heads, feeling foolish and awkward. He turned the jet on high and prayed the steam generated would help disguise his body.

    “Where is your soap?” bellowed Mr. Murray.

    Turner realised he had not brought his shower gel with him. “I forgot it Sir, it is in my bag”.

    “Have you got a brain?” demanded Mr. Murray. Turner just shrugged his shoulders. “Wait there, you can use mine”.

    Mr. Murray headed back to his office. Turner began to rub himself down under the piping hot water. As he rubbed down his legs, a sudden horror descended upon him. He looked down at his white briefs and realised, aghast, that his white pants had turned sheer. The material was clinging tightly to his cock, and the head was clearly visible, his balls hanging low and his dark bush acted as a backdrop to make his package appear even more pronounced.

    At this point, Mr. Murray returned, shower gel in hand. Turner turned his back on Mr. Murray, but was only too painfully aware that this would only reveal his tight hairy buttocks. Mr. Murray proffered the shower gel to Turner but stood away from the downpour unwilling to get his tracksuit wet.

    “Come and get it then”, yelled Mr. Murray.

    Turner paused briefly, he felt compelled to hide his modesty by covering himself with his hands. However, he felt the urge to brazen it out. After all, he had been put in to this ridiculous situation and he almost felt like making Mr. Murray feel equally uncomfortable by being confronted with his near naked body. In a sudden flash of bravado, Turner emerged slowly and purposefully from the cloud of steam, his transparent pants revealing his impressive package and he almost flaunted himself in front of Mr. Murray as he reached out to take the shower gel. Turner looked directly into Mr. Murray’s face in an attempt to outwit him. Mr. Murray’s eyes were staring straight back at Turner’s.

    Mr. Murray held out the shower gel. As their two hands each grabbed the bottle, Turner suddenly noticed Mr. Murray’s eyes dropping to his nearly-exposed genitals. Turner watched as Mr. Murray faltered. His gaze was held by the vision of the wet translucent pants. As Turner tried to take the shower gel, Mr. Murray increased his grip. The two were briefly in stalemate.

    Mr. Murray suddenly came to his senses. He was aware he had held the bottle for far too long. He released his grip and Turner almost fell back, such was the tension he had created on pulling the bottle.

    Recovering quickly, Mr. Murray yelled, “Right get yourself washed properly and let’s get off for lunch.”

    Turner returned to the shower. He felt acutely aware that Mr. Murray was studying his body. However his previous embarrassment began to fade. He decided he would wind Mr. Turner up. He felt rather empowered. He had noted the behaviour of Mr. Murray and he decided he would play Mr. Murray at his own game.

    Turner squeezed some of the shower gel onto his chest. He began to massage it in slowly. He stood sturdily and allowed the hot water jets to run down his face and he held his head back and the water ran shapely down his body. He rolled his head provocatively and soaped his muscular arms carefully and built up lather and raised his arms to run water into his hairy arm pits. He was aware that Mr. Murray had fallen silent. Turner didn’t engage eye contact with the teacher but closed his eyes and tried to suggest he was enjoying his shower.

    Turner turned so that his backside was displayed. He ran his fingers down his own back and suggestively over his material clad buttocks. Turner knew he was having a profound effect on Mr. Murray since Murray hadn’t said anything for several minutes. Turner bent slowly over to soap his legs. His hairy back side was pushed out towards Mr. Murray, the cleft in his buttocks was clearly visible through the material.

    Turner stood up and remained with his back to Mr. Murray but he felt a compulsion to rile Mr. Murray further. He allowed his fingers to gradually push the material of his wet briefs slowly down, his buttocks being tantalisingly revealed. He soaped his buttocks. He ran his hands over his hairy bottom and teased the buttocks apart allowing the hot water to run down the cleft.

    Very deliberately, Turner asked, “Has the mud gone yet from the back of my legs, Sir?”

    There was a momentary pause. “Yes”, Mr. Murray’s voice was unnaturally high; he had been caught off guard. He coughed, “Yes Turner, but um you, er, still need to clean yourself, at the, er, front.”

    Turner responded, “Yes, Sir, I will make sure I am clean at the front.”

    “Good, yes, I don’t want you leaving here smelling.”

    Turner turned around; once again he allowed the water to run down his body. He soaped his chest again and ran his hands over his biceps, down his stomach and to the top of his briefs. Carefully, he pushed his finger tips into his briefs. He moved his hands up and down his stomach and back to his briefs, each time pushing his fingers further down into his pants. As he did so the pants began to ease themselves down. At first, Turner’s dark bush was exposed. Turner ran his fingers through his pubic hair. Once again, he moved his hands up and ran his hands over the hair on his head. His pelvis pushed forward, his pubic hair prominent. Turner began to relish how he was teasing Mr. Murray; he had felt humiliated and angry but he now knew he had Mr. Murray under his control.

    He decided to punish Mr. Murray unmercifully. Turner’s hands descended slowly down the length of his body until they were resting casually at the waist band of his pants. He deliberately lowered his pants to reveal his cock and balls. He soaped his hands and ran them along the length of his shaft and massaged his balls slowly. He ran his hands suggestively back and forth along his cock and then down to his balls, creating a thick lather. Turner fully expected Mr. Murray to at least express some form of indignation but none came. Mr. Murray was totally silent.

    Turner continued to massage himself thoroughly and began to feel quite amused that he was totally exposed and guessed that Mr. Murray was enraptured. Turner upped his game; he lifted his cock and began to draw back his long foreskin, revealing his smooth, beautifully formed cock head. He soaped the head of his penis with his fingers and once again leaned back so that his pelvis thrust forward towards Mr. Murray.

    With no words from Mr. Murray, Turner suddenly realised that he didn’t know how this was going to end. Was he going to pull up his pants, turn off the shower and walk away as if nothing had happened? What would Mr. Murray say to him? Would Mr. Murray think Turner was gay? Turner realised he was out of his depth and was struck with self doubt; he began to feel he had gone too far. May be Mr. Murray was just aghast at the ridiculous performance that Turner had just put on? Turner felt so uncomfortable that he deftly raised his pants to cover up his exposed genitalia.

    Turner decided to attempt to leave the shower. He opened his eyes, fearful of the expression on Mr. Murray’s face, but then his mouth gaped open in astonishment. Turner had been looking downward towards the floor, feeling ashamed. The first thing he noticed was crumpled clothing on the floor. Turner’s eyes flicked towards Mr. Murray and his eyes ascended Mr. Murray’s naked body with his tracksuit abandoned on the floor.

    Turner took in the masculine frame of his P.E. teacher. Mr. Murray had to be around 30. His chest was smooth and he had pronounced pecs. He had a washboard stomach from working out and he had not an ounce of fat, only muscle. Mr. Murray’s cock was big, rock hard and he was stroking it. Mr. Murray’s eyes were shut. Turner had not seen another man’s aroused cock before and his instant reaction of admiration surprised himself. Mr. Murray really was stunning.

    Turner was transfixed. He stared at Mr. Murray’s hand caressing his cock; he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Mr. Murray’s cock was very big, and almost intimidating. Turner tried to feel disgust, anger and even amused but he felt none of these feelings. All he could feel was that his own cock was beginning to swell within his wet pants. Within seconds of watching his P.E. teacher stroke himself, Turner began to feel uncomfortable in his own pants such was the strength of his erection. Involuntarily, he found himself releasing his swollen cock from his restrictive pants. He lowered the pants to the top of his legs.

    Mr. Murray opened his eyes to drink in once again the nubile body of Turner beneath the shower. Their eyes met. Turner made a small gasp. Mr. Murray’s face displayed no reaction other than his eyes fell to take in the erection that Turner had released from his pants.

    Mr. Murray began to increase the frequency of his strokes. His other hand gently squeezed, rubbed and massaged his own balls. He drew his hand up and down his shaft and ran his fingers over the moist head. Mr. Murray’s gaze was firmly on Turner’s engorged cock. He said nothing but his breathing rate increased and he frequently licked and bit his lip. His hand moved more and more urgently up and down and the pressure he applied to his balls increased. Turner stood perfectly still and felt totally aroused by this display of male masturbation before him. He also felt turned on that he was the subject matter for the intense way Mr. Murray was rubbing himself.

    Turner noticed that the head of Mr. Murray’s cock was darkening in colour, the cock looked impossibly large and his hand was moving at an urgent pace. Mr. Murray began to groan, his legs began to lose balance, his hand moved faster, and then Mr. Murray’s head rolled back as a stream of cum literally shot out of his cock and landed not far from Turner’s feet. Further streams broke forth and Mr. Murray had to steady himself. His hand slowed and Turner could see the beads of perspiration on his forehead, a combination of effort and the steam from the shower.

    Mr. Murray ground to a halt. He remained silent. He just stood looking at Turner. Turner’s cock was oozing precum but he was reluctant to touch himself. Mr. Murray appeared to show no sign of remorse or embarrassment. He just continued to look at Turner’s body, up and down. Eventually the two made eye contact. Turner tried to read Mr. Murray’s face but he remained inscrutable. Mr. Murray was impassive. Turner looked Mr. Murray in the eye, wondering what would happen next.

    Mr. Murray began to walk towards Turner. Turner held his gaze. The two men faced each other. Without a word, Mr. Murray crouched down in front of Turner. Both of his hands moved toward the wet material of Turner’s underwear. He gradually eased the briefs down Turner’s legs until they reached his feet. As Turner stepped out of them, he actually had to lean on Mr. Murray to avoid falling over.

    Mr. Murray stood back up and once again they faced each other, both completely naked. Mr. Murray made a gentle grab for Turner. He pulled Turner towards him but turned him at the same time. Turner’s back was towards Mr. Murray. Mr. Murray pushed Turner carefully forward so that both were now under the hot jets of water. Mr. Murray’s muscular arm held Turner tightly across Turner’s chest. Turner could feel Mr. Murray’s semi-erect cock pushed against his buttocks. Mr. Murray’s free hand took Turner’s cock.

    Any doubts that Turner had in his mind had no time to surface. Turner was pinned tightly. His back rested against a muscular chest, an arm held him across his own chest and a hand was expertly stroking his cock. The hand around his cock was firm but gentle. Turner found himself pushing into the hand with his pelvis and he relished the feel of the semi-erect cock moving against his buttocks.

    Turner found himself totally giving into Mr. Murray. He had never been touched in such an erotic way and the hot water pounding down on him heightened his arousal further. He wanted to cum so badly and he knew it wouldn’t be long. Mr. Murray was gripping and releasing his cock and touching the head with his thumb. Mr. Murray’s restraining arm began to tease Turner’s nipple.

    Turner knew the moment was nigh and he had no control; he was being totally manipulated but he was in complete ecstasy. Turner felt the familiar feel of being on the verge of cumming. He thrust in Mr. Murray’s hand and the hand moved swiftly up and down. Turner was about to explode. Mr. Murray rested his lips against Turner’s neck and licked him and bit him gently. Turner ejaculated vigorously, his legs felt wobbly and Mr. Murray had to hold him up. Turner groaned. The orgasm was intense and the cum ran over Mr. Murray’s hand. Mr. Murray rubbed the cum along the shaft increasing the sensation.

    “Fucking hell!” Turner screamed.

    Mr. Murray smiled to himself. He had massaged Turner’s cock until Turner couldn’t take any more. Both were now satisfied. Mr. Murray held onto Turner and Turner leaned back against Mr. Murray’s hard body, loving the feeling of closeness.

    Mr. Murray in a loud voice said, “Don’t ever try to leave here again with mud on your legs, Turner.” Turner tensed. Mr. Murray moved his mouth close to Turner’s ear and whispered, “Unless, of course, you want to!”

    Mr. Murray let go of Turner, stood back, turned, picked up his tracksuit and walked naked back to his office. Turner watched him go, observing his tight buttocks as he went. Mr. Murray closed the door of the office behind him.

    Turner caught his breath. He walked to the changing room and dried quickly and dressed. He left the changing room without seeing Mr. Murray again. Outside Henderson happened to be walking past.

    “Got in trouble did you?” he sneered.

    Turner walked up to Henderson. “I owe you one!” Turner said and smiled.


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  • The Darts Dodge

    The light in the room was dim, dusk having set in over the previously abandoned cottage at the edge of the village. The furnishings were scant, mostly broken and worn-out, useless sticks of this and that, with thick layers of dust on all surfaces, the dust also being heavy in the weak beams of light coming through the grimy-paned window, kicked up by the activity of the vigorous fucking going on on the cot in the corner of the room.

    The smaller of the two men, barely a man himself, was bent painfully over the brass-rodded footboard of the cot, his chest pushed into a thin, dirty mattress on the cot and his legs dangling, feet almost, but not quite, reaching the worn wood of the floor, his breeches still clinging around his ankles. Crouched on his hips, like some giant bullfrog on his lily pad, was a much larger, older man, fully naked. His feet were on the mattress on either side of the younger man’s torso, his fists were gripping the shoulders of the younger man hard, and his pelvis was plastered to the younger man’s buttocks, riding him like a jockey and dicking him deep with vigorous strokes that bounced the younger man’s body like he was a punching bag.

    The younger man was whimpering and groaning and pleading for patience and mercy that never came, while the older man grunted and groaned and strained, lost in his taking, trying to get every ounce of satisfaction he could out of the young man’s ass.

    When the older man was done, he climbed off the younger one and started pulling his clothes back on.

    “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here,” he muttered. “You’ve let the fire go out. See to that. And find something for us to eat in this shithole of a dump before we go into the village. And I’ll need my jerkin scrubbed for tomorrow’s journey so it can dry overnight.”

    The younger man had curled up on the mattress and was holding his belly, which had been badly bruised by the buffeting it had received when he was bent over the footboard of the cot. He was still moaning and panting from the rough fucking he’d received.

    The older man turned to him in exasperation. “Did ya hear what I said there, Hans? Step to now. We’ll want to get to the tavern before all of the teams are formed up for the night. We have an income to earn. Must I do everything to keep us from starving?”

    The man sank onto a chair with a broken arm and watched Hans move painfully around, shivering from the cold despite the fire he had brought back to life, in the keeping room in the derelict cottage, trying to do all that was commanded of him.

    “No, don’t bother to put that shirt and those breeches back on,” Gregor growled. “I’ll be wanting another piece of you before we go out. Your ass is my good luck.”

    Gregor liked watching Hans move around in the nude. Although Hans had reached his manhood, he looked much younger, and his body was small and slender although very well formed. They had put his youthful aspect to good use in their journey across Europe from one village tavern to another. Hans contributed to the main scheme and from time to time – well, quite often – they had run across a man aroused enough by Hans’s youthful, angelic looks to pay well for a cocking. It was a good thing the lad was such a sweet fuck; Gregor didn’t think he was good for much of anything else. Just another mouth to feed.

    * * * *

    “Ah, that is a nice looking lad of yours. Your son, is he?”

    Gregor and the other man were sitting at a rough-surfaced wood table, Gregor trying to rope the man into a game of darts. The man looked like the best-heeled of the lot in the tavern this evening. His clothing was finer than the others and the other men in the tavern room were differential to him. He probably, Gregor thought, was down from the big manse he and Hans had passed on their way into the village.

    “Mayhap he is,” Gregor answered. “His mam and I weren’t all that particular who we went with other than each other. Favors her anyway, thanks be the lord.”

    They were sitting across the table from each other. Hans was sitting at the end of the bench Gregor occupied and was looking out into the tavern room, watching the swirl of action almost like a child in a candy shop. It was this aspect of him, perhaps enhanced because he was a bit slow, that men seemed to gravitate to.

    “His mother must have been quite lovely then,” the man said. “He’s angelic himself. And he has a sad expression that makes one want to comfort him.”

    “Ah, perhaps you’d like to comfort him then?” Gregor answered, taking on a conspiratorial look. He’d been jollying the man up to fleece him in a game of darts. But the evening was young. Perhaps the man could be twice taken.

    The man looked startled and his eyes narrowed, but they only strayed away from Gregor’s gaze long enough to take another look at Hans. “You certainly are direct, aren’t you?” he said.

    “Well, we’re just here for the one night and there’s much to be done. Do you fancy him for yourself or not? Want to fuck the lad, do you?”

    There were several ways the man could have gone from here. Standing up from the table and walking off indignant wasn’t a choice the well-dressed man made. Gregor knew he had him then and his mind clicked right into the next phase of how much the market would bear.

    “Five copper coins and he’s yours for one go,” Gregor whispered across the table. “You would have to provide the place, though, and return him here as good as he left.”

    The man sat there, staring at Gregor for the longest moment. But then his hand went to a pocket, and he extracted coins and flipped ten copper ones out onto the rough wood table surface. They each made a loud clinking sound as they landed. Gregor looked at the coins the man still had in his hand and regretted he hadn’t been more aggressive in his pricing.

    “All right then, for this perhaps not in quite as good a shape as he left in.”

    “I have access to a room upstairs,” the man said in a low voice.

    Gregor was more sorry than before that he hadn’t set the price higher.

    “Hans,” he said, still looking at the man, not at his young ward, “Go with this man.”

    Without even looking around, Hans sighed and stood up from the table. He had been listening to them all along.

    The man, distinguished in his tweeds, perhaps in his early forties, refined and dignified looking, stood. “Tell the young man to go up the stairs. I will meet him at the top in a few moments. I have a few parishioners to greet before I go up.”

    Ah, a local clergyman of some persuasion – and one not wanting to be seen going up the stairs openly with a young man, Gregor thought. And for the third time he realized he could have asked for more.

    Hans climbed the stairs quietly, apparently drawing no attention. The distinguished-looking man was on the move around the tavern floor now, and all attention and smiles and extended hands were concentrating on him.

    Gregor looked around the tavern floor for another mark for his game of “friendly stakes” darts. The more serious work would be later, when Hans had come down the stairs again.

    When the man reached the top of the stairs, he laid a hand gently on Hans’s arm and guided him down the hall. He opened a door into a small bed chamber, plain and with the bare minimum furniture and a braided rug on the floor – but nonetheless miles better than where Hans and Gregor would be staying that night in the abandoned and half-tumbled-down cottage out on the edge of the village.

    “Please disrobe,” the man said politely in a calm voice. And as Hans did so, so did he.

    He was already half erect.

    “Come here.”

    Hans approached the man, who gave him a broad, lust-laden smile and then backhanded Hans across the mouth, snapping the young man’s head back.

    Shocked, Hans staggered to the side and then doubled up and sank to the floor as the man caught him in the belly with the upward thrust of his fist.

    Hans gasped and cried out in pain.

    “Shut up. Take it silently,” the man commanded. “Here occupy this with your mouth,” he went on to say as he brutally lifted Hans up with a grip on his hair and presented his cock to the young man’s lips. “And do it well, or I will beat the life out of you.”

    After Hans had sucked the man to full erection, the man pulled out of him and backhanded his face again, sending Hans whimpering to the floor. The man leaned down and put an arm under Hans’s belly and turned him, bringing the young man up on all fours on the braided carpet. Straddling Hans’s hips with his thighs, the man thrust his cock strongly up into Hans’s channel and rode him hard until Hans’s knees and arms turned to jelly and he was ridden to the carpet, with the man’s cock still churning inside him.

    “Several minutes. I don’t want to see you back in the tavern for several minutes after I have descended the stairs,” the man said in a calm voice as he redressed. “If you and your companion are here still tomorrow evening, I will want you again. I’ll speak to him about it.”

    With no other comment than that, the man left Hans in the room curled up on the braided rug, trying to regain his breath and clutching his stomach.

    When Hans came down the stairs, Gregor was waiting for him impatiently.

    “What were you dawdling up there for? We have work to do. I’ve started with the darts and am just about ready to do the dazzle. You know what to do. I’ll meet you back at the cottage.”

    Then Gregor was off, back to where they were waiting from him at the darts board. He had already played a set, which had broken at its end for all to tank up on beer before Gregor took on the village darts champion. Nearly all of the men in the tavern had gathered around to watch, as Gregor’s play had awed them.

    Hans looked around and couldn’t see the man who had manhandled him upstairs. Most of the men he did see, though were standing or sitting at tables in a semicircle around the darts lane, their attention focused on Gregor as he took up the darts again.

    This was what Hans and Gregor were here for – for Gregor to dazzle all in a tavern with his darts ability to the point where they weren’t paying attention to anyone else. As was his responsibility now, Hans started circling the room – just a youth antsy and unable to stay in one place, just someone else watching the darts master at work.

    Hans was being a somewhat clumsy young man, as all slow youths tended to be. He was shorter than any of the other men in the room and yet he circled behind most of the crowd, not going to the front, but stumbling against this man and that in his apparent endeavor to see the action at the darts lane.

    Hans worked his way from the group near the bar around to where he could see there was a back door out of the room, which, he presumed, would lead to a storage room and then to the dark lane, from where he could make his way back to the cottage laden down with whatever he’d been able to pick from the inattentive darts game audience’s pockets without being detected.

    He had made it almost all of the way around the room, back to the rear of the tavern where he felt safer in the shadows. The pockets of his coat were almost overflowing with loot, and he had to move very carefully now so that the objects didn’t click together and make sounds that would attract attention.

    Just one more, he decided, and he would be out of the building. Out at the edge of the crowd, there was a tall, dark stranger in a cloak, but he had a hand on one of his hips with the cloak folded to his back. He looked swarthy and mean-looking and had a nasty scar on his cheek, picked up, no doubt, in some tavern fight. But he looked like a safe enough mark. All of his attention was on the darts game.

    Hans ever so carefully reached for the pocket of the man’s cloak behind his bent arm. The fold of the cloak was just hanging there, not even touching the man’s body. This would be the easiest extraction of all. Hans had his hand in the pocket when he felt the grip like a vice on his wrist. He looked up into the jet-black eyes of the dark man in the cloak who now was looking into his face with a sneery sort of smile-scowl.

    The man pulled Hans away from the gathered crowd and into the shadows of the area underneath the stairway to the upper level. He had Hans enveloped in his cloak and turned from the other men and a hand over his mouth before Hans could utter a cry. And he was slowly propelling Hans through the very door by which Hans had planned to make his escape.

    The man pushed Hans into the darkness of the storage room and to a large, waist-high wooden box in the back corner of the room, where he bent Hans over on the top of the box, belly on the box, and crouched over him, the man’s barrel chest pressing down on Hans’s back. They were both covered by the cloak, making them invisible in a dim-as-night room.

    “Promise not to scream and I’ll take my hand away from your mouth,” the man whispered into Hans’s ear. “But I have a knife here and you will not make a second scream if you try the first.”

    He took Hans’s muffled whimper as an assent. He tentatively removed his hand, and when he’d done so Hans remained panting from fear but silent and trembling.

    “What shall we do with you?” The man whispered.

    “Please, sir. I will leave it all here. Just let me go.”

    “That would hardly be fitting punishment for your crime, now would it? Was that the parson I saw you go up the stairs with earlier? I know what the parson goes up those stairs with young men to do.”

    “Sir, if you let me go, I will go upstairs with you too.”

    “Here would be fine.” The man held Hans close to him with one arm wrapped around the young man’s waist, while he removed both of their breeches with the other. He then relieved Hans of his shirt and began kissing down his back and across his buttocks as he knelt behind Hans. Hans began to moan and writhe as the man’s tongue entered his ass channel, and the young man groaned as the man’s hand snaked in between his thighs and took possession of his cock.

    The man was moving slowly, sensually. Hans had never been made love to like this before. Not by Gregor and most certainly not by any of the men Gregor made him go with. It was almost like the man recognized that Hans was there and had needs too. And as the man prepared him gently and sensually, Hans began feeling sensations and heights of passion and pleasure he never had felt before so that by the time the man stood and bent over his back once more, Hans wanted the entry. When it came, Hans received it with a sigh and a moan of welcome. When the shaft had completely possessed him and started to stroke powerfully within him, Hans moved his hips in consort with the rhythm of the fuck.

    After a while the man turned Hans on his back so they were facing, and he lowered his lips to Hans’s nipples while he continued stroking his staff inside the young man. He was slow pumping Hans’s cock and Hans came with long sigh. The man lifted his lips to Hans’s face and engaged the youth in a kiss that took Hans’s breath away.

    After the man came, he lay there on top of Hans for several moments, while Hans felt the power of him receded inside his channel and ran his hands through the man’s black, silky hair.

    “Thank you, that was quite special,” the man whispered. “You are a sweet angel. I’ll let you go on about your business now. You took nothing of mine, so you may just reclothe yourself and leave. There’s a back entrance to the alley from this storage room.”

    “Must I leave?” Hans asked in low, faltering voice. “Have you no use for a young man like me?”

    “You would go with me?” the man asked, a hint of awe in his voice.

    An hour later, when Gregor had won what was really a modest sum for the performance he had put forward at the dart board that evening and had commiserated with one and all for their loss to some unknown pickpocket in the crowd, he returned to a stone-cold cottage. The fire hadn’t been laid, the flagon of beer he always liked to celebrate with was not on the table, and his jerkin was still in the soapy water in the basin.

    He bellowed for Hans, but Hans failed to appear. Gregor cursed the young man as a dolt and an anvil weight around his neck. It was only two hours after that when Hans still had not appeared and a fire still was not laid and the jerkin was still sopping wet that Gregor began to wonder how he was going to rob the men of the next village while he was busy playing darts and started to form any sort of appreciation for Hans at all. But, of course, then it was much too late.


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  • Revealing A Secret

    My name is Mark Jacobs. I’m a eighteen year old high school senior that happens to be gay. My parents have no idea of my sexual preferences.

    My dad, Jack, is an over the road truck driver and makes a very nice living; enough to put me through college and allow my mom to do her volunteer work at the hospital. She enjoys not having to work outside he home.

    It all began just before my graduation. I wondered if I should reveal what I knew or keep quiet.

    Due to a power failure at school, classes were dismissed at noon. I drove home and when I arrived, there was a strange car in our driveway.

    I went up to the front window and peeked in. No one was in sight, but I could faintly hear sounds from the interior of the house. Easing in, I listened and heard my mom moan.

    I was about to rush to her aid when I heard a mans voice say, “Yea baby. I’m almost there. Let’s go over the edge together.”

    “Not yet, Carl,” Mom said. “Make it last longer.”

    I eased to the master bedroom and peered in. There was mom in bed getting fucked by a guy I didn’t know. She was pulling his head down to kiss him.

    I was totally stunned and shocked. I eased away and went to my room, wondering what I should do.

    I made my decision. I grabbed my digital camera and set it for video and went back to mom’s room. I began videoing the action and captured both their climaxes.

    I hurried back out of the house and left, driving just down the street and parked. I watched as the guy left in his hospital scrubs. As he drove toward me, I snapped a still picture of him.

    I then went back to the house, finding mm in her robe. Seeing me she became nervous, asking what I was doing home so early.

    “There was a power failure at school and they let classes out early,” I said, going straight to my room.

    I was in good standing with my last period class and convinced my teacher to excuse me from class for a week. I got three more episodes of mom having sex with other men. One was with the same guy and the other two were different men.

    I hated her for what she was doing to my dad. He and I were close and didn’t want to see him get hurt, yet I knew that he had to know.

    When he came in off the road for a few days, Mom acted as if nothing was wrong and welcomed him with open arms, soon getting him in their bed.

    the following day she was scheduled to volunteer at the hospital and after she left, Dad suggested that he and I go get breakfast.

    As we returned home, Dad could tell something was bothering me. “What’s wrong son? I can tell something is on your mind because you’re not yourself.”

    “Dad, we need to talk when we get home.”

    “What about?” he asked.

    I refused to tell him until we got home, but once inside he sat me down and said “Spill it. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

    Looking him straight in the face I said bluntly, “Dad, Mom’s fucking other guys while you’re gone.”

    “Mark, what are you saying? How are you so sure? Surely you must be mistaken. Not your mom!”

    “Dad, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” I told him about the first time then showed him all the videos I had taken. He as shocked beyond belief as he watched each one.

    “Well, if that’s what she wants, then she can do it all she wants,” he said calmly.

    “Dad, if you’re leaving her, I want to go with you. I hate her for what’s she’s doing to you.”

    “No, Mark, I’m not leaving. She is, and I don’t care where she goes.”

    With that,he went to their room and pulled out their luggage and stuffed all her clothes and personal items into them and sat them by the door.

    Then, he asked for the cables to my camera and attached my video camera to the TV and had is all set to play when she returned home.

    When she walked in, she saw the luggage and asked what was going on.

    Looking at her, dad calmly said, “Why don’t you tell me, Sue,” and pressed the play button on the remote.

    When the videos started, she turned white and slowly eased herself into a chair.

    “How did you get those? Who made them?”

    “Our son caught you. Thanks to him I now know what you’ve been doing when I’ve been on the road making a living for us. Your belongings are packed. You’re out of here. Go fuck all you want.”

    She tried to respond but he stopped her, saying he didn’t want to hear any excuses. When she started out he said, “Call a cab. That car is in my name. I’m filing for divorce tomorrow and if I can, you won’t get a dime out of me.”

    Dad filed and mom didn’t fight it. In fact, she didn’t ask for anything.

    Dad wanted a fresh start and suggested we sell the house and get our own place, something new and with no memories. I quickly agreed. Dad got a premium price for the house. He went to an estate auction and bought a smaller house on ten acres for a steal and paid cash, all when he was between deliveries.

    I entered the local college and lived in the house while dad was on the road. I’d talk to him daily and knew when he would be coming home. While he was gone, I was free to have guys over for sex all I wanted. However, I felt guilty and didn’t want dad to come home unexpectedly and find me in bed with another guy like I had mom.

    After several months, I decided to tell him everything on his next trip home.

    He arrived on a Friday afternoon and after showering we went out for dinner then to a movie. The next morning, after preparing breakfast, we sat at the table and dad looked at me and said, “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

    “Dad, you know me all too well,” I said. “I have something to tell you and i hope you won’t hate me after I tell you.”

    “Son, nothing you can tell me will ever make me hate you. What is it?”

    “Dad, I’m gay,” I spit out then waited for his response.

    He calmly took a sip of his coffee then asked, “Are you sure?”

    “Yes, sir, I am. I’ve been active with other guys since I was fifteen.”

    “Do you enjoy that lifestyle? You know it might cause problems in the future in finding employment if it gets out.”

    “I know,and I’m prepared to handle it somehow, ad yes, I do enjoy the lifestyle. I’ve dated and been with girls but with men there just isn’t the drama you experience with a female.”

    “I see,” he said as he took another sip of coffee. “If that’s what you want then I say live your life as you want. I can accept it without reservations and still love you even more because of your honesty.”

    “Dad, I was so scared to tell you. Do you really accept having a gay son?”

    “Sure. What’s the big deal. So what if you prefer sex with men as long as they are into it also. Do you have anyone special you’re seeing?”

    “Well, you’ve met Zack. I get with him more than anyone else, but it’s not serious.”

    “Damn, Zack is gay? He’s so muscular and such a jock. It’s hard to believe he’s gay.”

    “Well, he is. He was wanting us to get together tonight before I found out you were coming home.”

    “Mark, if you would like to see him then call him. Just because I’m home, you don’t have to stay home with me. And, if you want to invite him to stay the night, feel free to do it even with me home.”

    “Dad, are you fucking serious? You wouldn’t object if I asked him to stay the night and we had sex in my room?”

    “Nope. It’s not that much different if you had a girl over and fucked her. Hell, who knows when I might find someone to bring home for sex.”

    “Dad, you’re super. I love you so much for understanding.”

    “I love you, too, son. We’re both human beings that have needs.”

    We hugged each other tightly for a long time, before dad said, “Go call Zack and see if he’s still available for tonight.”

    I did and set it up. Zack agreed to pick me up at seven. I told him to come in and say ‘hi’ to dad.

    Dad and I went to the mall that afternoon and bought both of us some new clothes.

    That evening when Zack arrived and came in, dad greeted him warmly.

    “Zack, I came out to dad this morning. He knows I’m gay and that we date from time to time.”

    “You mean….”

    “Yes, he knows your gay also and he’s cool with it. In fact, he said I could invite you to stay the night with me if you wanted to. He doesn’t mind.”

    “Boys, look,” Dad began, “I’m not the prude some parents are. I’m open minded and feel people should just be themselves when ever they can. Here is one place where you two can do just that and not worry about it.”

    “Mr. Jacobs, you super,” Zack said.

    “Go on and have fun, just be careful. I might be up when you get home or I might be out myself.”

    Dad was home when we returned and after a short visit we went to my room. It felt strange yet exciting to have sex with dad in the house.

    On dad’s next trip home, we had dinner out the first night then on the second night I told dad I was meeting some guys from college and going to the football game. He said to have fun.

    When I got home there was a strange pickup in the drive. I went in and found dad a and another man sitting in the living room both shirtless and shoeless. I found this extremely strange for dad.

    He introduced he man as Sam, a fellow driver for the company dad drove for. Sam looked to be younger than dad, who was only thirty-six.

    After the introductions, dad asked me to sit down. As I did, Sam said that maybe he should leave us alone for a while. Dad insisted that he stay.

    “Mark, son, the reason I could accept you being gay so easily is that I’m gay also. I was bi until after your mother and I divorced, then I knew I was really totally gay. I became curious after I started driving and started getting blow jobs while on the road. I decided to try it and liked it. Can you accept having a gay dad?”

    “Hell yea!” I exclaimed. “It will be so much easier talking to you about it. Just one more thing we have in common.”

    He hugged me and I shocked him by giving him a hot tongue kiss which he gave back.

    “Just so you know, Sam is staying with me tonight.”

    “Great. Dad, I think this is so fucking hot. It may sound sick on my part but I’d love to see you with another guy.”

    “I don’t think it’s sick. I’d love to watch you with Zack.”

    “Maybe next time he’s over,” I said. Then looking at Sam, I told dad, “Have fun! He’s hot as hell.”

    “I know,” dad said.

    “So is your dad, Mark. Believe me.”

    I smiled and went to my room, still shocked and excited at finding out that dad was gay also.

    Later, I could hear them going at it, fucking each other.

    The next morning after Sam left, dad went to his room for a moment then returned nude, saying , “I’m more comfortable his way. Join me if you want.”

    “I will,” I replied and began stripping. As I did, I said, “I live this way when you’re on the road.”

    “Well, then, shall we agree to live this way all the time when I’m home?”

    “Definitely,” I said as I checked out my dad’s beautiful cock. I could see him checking out my cock also.

    After lunch, he asked, “Do you really think Sam is hot?”

    “Hell yes. I love his hairy chest and red hair, and I have to ask, is his bush red also?”

    “Yes, red-orange,” Dad replied. “And he thinks your hot also. He told me so.”

    “Oh, really?”

    “Yes, and if you want sex with him, he’s at the truck stop next to our terminal. He’s in a red Kenworth number 1027 on the side of the nose. If he’s not in the ruck he will probably be in the restaurant or trucker’s lounge.”

    “You don’t mind?”

    “Not at all. When you get home, we can compare notes.”

    “Dad, your bad,” I said. “And by the way, Zack thinks your hot also. If you want I can call and invite him over while I’m gone.”

    “You think he’ll come over?”

    “Sure. He’ll think he’s coming to have sex with me. Just invite him in and be straight forward with him.”

    I left and went to the truck stop. I found Sam’s rig but he wasn’t there. I went into the truck stop and checked the lounge first. No Sam. Then i went to the restaurant and saw him sitting at the counter drinking coffee. I walked up and sat next to him.

    When he saw me, he smiled and said “Hey, Mark. What are you doing here?”

    “Looking for you,” I said. “I thought maybe you’d show me your rig.”

    “Gladly,” he said, with a knowing look in his eyes.

    He paid for his coffee and we went to his rig. Once in I went to the large sleeper and began stripping. He watched and i asked, “Are you going to join me?”

    “You bet,” he said with a smile as he closed the privacy curtains.

    Soon we were in each others arms totally naked on his bunk, kissing passionately. Moments later, I flipped and we began a sixty-nine, soon devouring each other’s hot thick creamy loads.

    Afterward, as we lay together, I found out that he was twenty- eight, and divorced. He said he had been into guys since he was barely thirteen.

    Later, he asked me to fuck him which I did gladly. Then I had him fuck me. He was awesome in bed.

    Before I left, i gave him my cell number and told him to call me anytime he was in town even if dad wasn’t. He said he definitely would.

    I returned to the house to see Zack pulling out o the driveway. We stopped side by side on the street and he smiled and said, “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?”

    “I just found out last night. Besides, I thought I’d surprise you.”

    “Man, I’m glad you did. He’s hot as hell.”

    “Maybe I’ll find out sometime,” I said.

    I arrived home and dad and I compared experiences with Sam and Zack.

    After dinner, as we sat watching TV nude, I went for it. I went over to where dad sat and quickly dropped to the floor and took his soft cock into my mouth.

    “Oh, fuck, Mark. We shouldn’t do this.”

    Pausing, I said, “Why not? We’re both over the age of consent and neither of us is forcing it.”

    I returned to his cock and soon brought him to a roaring climax, swallowing every delicious drop. When i was done, he sucked me off.

    Later, at bed time he asked, “Son, would you like to share my bed with me tonight?”

    “I’d love to,” I said, “but I want you to fuck me.”

    “Only if you fuck me first,” he replied.

    Moments later, I was sliding my cock in and out of my own dad’s ass. It was fantastic. And when I climaxed up his ass he exclaimed “Oh fuck yes!”

    Moments later, he was fucking me, and I loved it. Especially when he filled me with his man seed that had created me.

    From then on, when dad was in town, we had sex. Some time if Sam was in town also, we’d three way with him or at times with Zack. I met Sam frequently and loved it. And whenever dad was home he enjoyed sex with Zack.

    A year later, dad was promoted to terminal manager and was home all the time. He requested that Sam be his assistant and the owners agreed.

    Within another year, Sam and I had become lovers and dad and Zack were lovers. Even with that situation, Zack and Sam had no objections for dad and I to have our private time for sex together.

    Zack moved in with dad and Sam and I bought a house only a mile from dad and Zack. We’re all extremely happy and deeply in love.

    As for mom, we haven’t heard from her since the divorce. We heard she had moved to Las Vegas and was working in one of the whore houses where she could get fucked all she wanted.

    THE END


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


  • The Duchess’s Brother

    Young Robert came to with a start. The pain and sense of tightness and fullness in his ass channel were excruciating. His breeches, hose, and boots were off; he could see them tossed in a bundle in the ferns by the rocks cascading down to the stream where his horse – and that of the duke – were nuzzling their noses into the gently rolling water. He felt pain elsewhere too – at his temple, where he’d landed and blacked out when his horse threw him; at the side of his face, where the duke had backhanded him back into unconsciousness when he was coming to; in his shoulder, which he’d bruised in the fall; and in his arms, pinned uncomfortably under him on the rough-surfaced ground beneath the fern bed he’d landed in. All of his weight was on his arms, and his wrists were bound underneath him.

    “Sire. Your grace!” he exclaimed in pain and shock, as he looked into the face of the Duke of Farnstead, his father’s liege lord. The imposingly figured man was crouched over Robert, his body wedged between the young man’s thighs, his hands holding Robert’s now-bare legs out and up from his body, and his cock digging ever deeper into the center of the young squire.

    “Shut up and take it, boy. I will have my pleasure.”

    “Oh, please, mercy. You are hurting me unto death.”

    “It’s your own fault. Those saucy looks and golden ringlets. I swear, of all of your father’s offspring and by-blows, you are the prettiest by far. I’ve wanted to put you to my sword for two days now. It is done now, the gates are breached – and, believe me, that was no easy storming – so take it.”

    “Sire! Ohhhhh. I’ve never!”

    “What, you’ve never been put to the sword before?” This claim only made the duke laugh and push in deeper and begin to stroke slowly and deliberately in a rhythm that had Robert groaning and panting. “Not even by your father? I’ve heard of his ways. Must have been saving you. Don’t be so tense and it will go better with you. Relax and open to me. You are undone now; you might as well enjoy it. I’m told I do it very, very well.” And again that laugh.

    Robert found that it did help when he relaxed his body. And, indeed, there was little he could do about this now. The duke was liege over his own family’s land. By the right of the laws, he had access to the cunts of any of the women in his dukedom – and in this day and age dukes and kings tended to call upon the right liberally. Surely that held for the ass channel of any man in thrall to him as well, if it was the duke’s pleasure.

    “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

    And indeed it was. Robert started to moan now and his hips began involuntarily to roll with the rhythm of the taking. It mortified him that he was becoming increasingly willing to accommodate the duke. The more his channel opened to the duke’s cocking, the more his own pleasure and arousal stole in to mix with the shock and pain and sense of violation. He couldn’t call it violation, of course. The duke had his rights. And the duke wasn’t old and fat. He was young and virile and in prime condition. And his cock had a way of making Robert’s channel walls grab and release and shudder – something Robert had no idea they could do.

    The duke’s bulb had found Robert’s prostate and was sending waves of electricity through his body. He moaned and trembled and murmured his wonder, which heighted the duke’s arousal. The duke laughed lustily again and, with one hand, tore open the front of Robert’s doublet, exposing pert little nipples to his lips and teeth. Robert groaned in reply and began moving his hips more vigorously against the thrustings of the ducal rapier.

    “Why, you little vixen,” the duke muttered. “You can’t get enough of it now, can you?”

    “Oh, sire,” Robert whimpered. “Oh, my liege.”

    “This staff I have between your legs is your liege,” the duke crowed. “And you are its mistress.”

    “Oh, ohhh, ohhh,” Robert cried as he tensed, arched his back, and let loose his seed.

    “This is the only thing you can do before me,” the duke said wickedly, “In all else except coming for me, you must walk behind.” He laughed at his own joke and then continued, taking Robert’s jaw roughly in his hand and bringing the young man’s face close to his own. “Like this. I want to see your expression when I paint your insides with royal seed.” Then at belabored, exhausting length. “Yes, yes…ugh…very pretty. Very pretty indeed.”

    “Here, cinch up that doublet better. Not all of the buttons are broken,” the duke said after he was finished, had risen and adjusted his breeches, and had freed the lashes of the riding whip he’d used to tie the young man’s wrists. “All can be explained by your unfortunate fall. But do walk around a bit and lose that bow-legged stumble – or the rest of the hunting party will gossip when they’ve come upon us. Which should be soon. I told my lieutenant to hold them back on one excuse or another for a good half hour – and you have such a sweet ass, I almost overlived my time. But you rejuvenate me. I should have made the command an hour. I could have well done with a second – and you could have used that for your education, as well.”

    “Oh, sire.”

    “And don’t snivel. You were sure to lose your virginity sooner rather than later with those eye lashes and willowy figure of yours. You told me true? I am the first dip of the wick?”

    “Yes, my lord,” Robert said in a soft, subdued voice. He couldn’t look at the duke now. At some point in the taking, it had overwhelmed him and had become near paradise to him. But before and after . . .

    “Well, you are honored then. The sword of a duke was first. You’ll get no better unless you manage to make your way to the king’s bed.”

    “Yes, my lord,” Robert whispered with a near whimper. They both turned their heads at the sound of hoofbeats.

    “Ah, the rest of the hunting party. Your father will be beside himself that we have become lost from the main hunt. Retrieve the horses and stand beyond them. You still have a wildness about your eyes. Do something about that while I tell them of your unfortunate tumble off your horse.”

    “Yes, sire.”

    That evening, Lord Charles, Robert’s father, stood at the lord’s table, raised his goblet, and hushed those gathered. Robert was sitting almost in the shadows at the end of a side table. The lord’s table was taken up with the duke and the principals of his retinue, Robert’s parents and three sisters, and his elder brother – the heir to the family holdings and minor title.

    “This is a momentous occasion,” Lord Charles spoke loudly, slurring his words a bit, not quite in control of his wine flagon. “The great Duke of Farnstead not only honors this humble house with his presence, but he also has honored us for all time by asking for the hand of our precious daughter, Caroline, to become his duchess.”

    There were cheers all around, while the duke and Caroline stood and the duke leaned over Caroline’s hand and gave it a noble peck. His lieutenant, a tall, well-muscled strapping young man, was standing behind him, looking intently into Caroline’s face. Sensing the attention, Caroline lifted her gaze to his. And she blushed and gave a shy little smile.

    “And extending the honor he does our estate,” Lord Charles continued, “The duke has given permission for our entire family to join his at the Castle Hamstead.”

    There were oohs and ahhs all around, especially from those fretful parents who would be all the more comfortable to know that Lord Charles was off in Hamstead and their sons and daughters weren’t.

    Not long afterward, the duke leaned over to Lord Charles and told him that he was tired from the hunt and perhaps they could bring the festivities to a close so he could withdraw.

    “And I have found that I have come some away from Hamstead with an insufficient number of squires to attend my chamber. Would it be possible for your young Robert to attend me? – and I may have need for him in the service in Hamstead as well after the wedding and when your family joins me there.”

    “But certainly, I would be honored,” Lord Charles murmured. And although he had, indeed, had his own eyes of lust on his youngest son as the youth had grown into manhood, it was the greatest of honors for a son of his to be on bedchamber attendance to the duke. And it would solve the age-old problem of what an English nobleman could do with a second son as long as the first one was robust. This would be like money in the strongbox – his second son at someone else’s table until and unless he was needed at home by some misfortune to the estate’s heir – and no need for messy scheming when Lord Charles went on to his ultimate rest.

    He looked up to catch the eye of his son, Robert, but the young man was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he could not be found anywhere on the estate that night or before the duke’s party left for Hamstead.

    * * * *

    “Come to me, squire.”

    Robert moved a bit farther into the duke’s bed chamber. He had been escorted straight here from the wedding banquet hall. And during the entire church ceremony and the wedding banquet, he had been flanked by two of the duke’s sturdy house guardsmen.

    The duke and his lieutenant, stripped of their formal doublets, were sitting in front of a draped window on either side of a small table. They were playing chess. They were both bare-chested and their physiques told of many hours of exercise for combat readiness. The younger lieutenant was somewhat broader of chest and narrower of waist than the duke was, but the duke was in his prime as well.

    Robert’s sister, Caroline, had departed the wedding banquet more than two hours previously to prepare for her nuptial night, which apparently was going to take place in the duchess’s chamber adjacent through a sturdy wooden double door directly from the duke’s bed chamber.

    “That was unkind of you to avoid me that last night at your father’s house,” the duke said. Robert knew the man was addressing him, although both the duke and his lieutenant were bent attentively over the chessboard, and the duke was holding a pawn in his hand.

    Robert felt very much like a pawn in the duke’s hand at that moment. “I’m sorry, sire. I – “

    Much to Robert’s relief – at least momentarily – because Robert really had no idea what he could say beyond what he had said, the duke overrode his murmured apology.

    “No matter in the end. The absence has served to whet my appetite. That was a pain yesterday, but at this moment it is quite beneficial to my mood. And here you are. Ready to begin your service to me in the bed chamber.”

    “Yes, my lord.”

    “As this is your first night in this service, I wish to see how well you do before you come in touch with me. Come over and undress my lieutenant.”

    “Sire?”

    “The first lesson is not to question but just to do,” the duke barked. The tone of his voice sent Robert stumbling forward. And while he did so, the lieutenant stood, and, with a wicked smile, took a wide stance with his legs.

    Robert approached him, bent at the waist, and unclasped the lieutenant’s hose and rolled them off his meaty legs, taking the slippers off his feet at the same time. Then he pulled the man’s breeches off his legs, and the lieutenant stood there before him, as he was born, his prodigious manhood and balls hanging down between his thighs. He was still smiling as if he shared in a secret that Robert did not.

    Which, as it happened, he did.

    “Now kneel before him and use your mouth to make him ready for my duchess.”

    Robert’s face snapped up to look at the duke in shock and confusion, but at the duke’s barked “Do it!” the lieutenant’s foot snaked around to the back of Robert’s knee and jabbed at the tender tissue there, sending Robert crashing down to the floor. And, the soldier brutally grasping the back of his head by the hair, bringing him back up to his knees, and, ultimately, controlling him, Robert’s lips were being breached by the lieutenant’s engorging, monstrous staff. Robert gasped between moments of gagging as the lieutenant set his pelvis in motion, cruelly using Robert’s mouth cavity for his growing pleasure, pushing to the back of his throat, hauling him from the floor by his long, golden ringlets, and shaking his body like he was rag doll. While this transpired, the duke continued speaking in soft tones.

    “As you might suppose, I do not waste time and seed on women. They are only good for begetting sons, and I have none of the pretentions of most on having a son who looks like me. The lieutenant is going to serve that duty for your sister, the duchess. I trust she will enjoy it – although, as you can sense, he does like to be a little rough in his taking. I understand many women enjoy that – and many young men too. We’ll see what you enjoy. And even if she doesn’t enjoy him, I trust she is a smart enough lass to not care where the seed comes from that gives her sons as long as I acknowledge them as mine. As a squire of my bed chamber, you will learn that whatever secrets I have are your sworn secrets too. And if you can’t hold them…well, my castle moat is wide and deep.”

    After a bit, while Robert learned the rhythm and touch that was expected of him in this act and the lieutenant settled down to more interest in rhythm and touch than brutality, silence reigned in the chamber except for the heavy breathing from the lieutenant, who was being brought to full arousal; the murmurings of the duke, who was enjoying the entertainment and anticipating what followed; and Robert’s gasps, gurgles, and repressed gagging. The duke had his own cock out of his codpiece and, though it was not as long and thick as the lieutenant’s, it was manly enough and showing great interest. Robert could see the strong upcurve of it that had given his prostate so much direct-bulb attention by the stream during the hunt.

    “There, that is enough. Although he might need some more help ere he removes himself to the bridal chamber. Now, do the same for me. But be better at it and more willing for it than you were with my lieutenant. I will help; I like it slower and with more loving attention.”

    After Robert had undressed the duke and serviced him in the same way as he had the lieutenant – being expected now to make love to the cock rather than just serving as a vessel for it – the duke gave direction again.

    “Now the preparation. Strip down yourself, Robert, and make a play of it. Then go and lie belly down at the foot of the bed. Jason, prepare him for me, if you please.”

    Without a word, after Robert had slowly disrobed, the lieutenant nudged him over the bed and pushed him down on his belly. Robert moaned, but he didn’t struggle – how, under the circumstances could he have? – as the lieutenant stretched his arms out at either side and tied off his wrists to fastenings on the bed boards at the side. Robert was to find out that there were such fastenings all over the frame of the duke’s bed.

    Coming behind him, the lieutenant pulled Robert’s legs out to either side and tied off his ankles to hooks on the bedposts at the end of the bed as he had done with Robert’s wrists.

    Then he knelt behind Robert, and the young squire felt fingers and a tongue at his channel opening and a fist grab and pull his cock through his thighs and to start milking him like he was a beast of the pasture.

    Robert moaned and writhed under the attention and his eyes latched onto those of the duke, who stood beside the bed and watched and stroked his own cock. The duke was naked except for the signet ring of his nobility and the riding crop he was holding in his hand. Robert moaned and opened his mouth to speak when he saw the riding crop, but then, knowing it would do him more harm than good to object, he shut his mouth and continued to roll his hips in answer to what the lieutenant was doing in his ass with his tongue and to his cock and balls with his fist.

    The duke gave him a slight look of disappointment, leaving little doubt that he would have enjoyed a little more resistance and begging for mercy.

    “Enough. My bride awaits. Leave the door open. One wants to know if his wife is a screamer.”

    Robert watched the lieutenant move, naked, through the door, his manhood standing straight and tall and long and thick from his body. He heard the cry of shock and the scuffle and screams of distress and objection and violation from the other room immediately after the lieutenant had entered the duchess’s chamber. His sister, Caroline, seemed to be under the misapprehension that the lieutenant was taking liberties and all she need do is call the guards outside her door. Although the guards undoubtedly would have preferred coming into the chamber to enjoy the entertainment, they didn’t.

    As it was, the duchess was putting up a struggle for her new husband’s rights. She ran from her bed and made it to the open door between the chambers before the lieutenant caught up with her. Standing behind her, he held her there, his arm around her waist, her body half bent over, his massive, heaving chest looming over her back, her body still enshrouded in her billowing, white wedding nightgown, for both the duke and Robert to see the tableau of the two of them together as well as the shock in her eyes as she saw the duke bent over her brother’s spread-eagled and bound back, both duke and squire naked.

    The duke and Robert, suspending their own action, watched as the lieutenant bunched Caroline’s gown above her waist and his free hand went under it and brutally grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts. And duke and squire watched as she screamed when his cock found her cunt and pushed to work its way into her. And then she was wrenched away from the doorway and back toward her bed.

    The duke seemed to be enjoying this. He had begun flicking Robert’s bare rump and his balls with the riding crop as a gurgling cry from the other room marked the instant his sister, Caroline, became a matron, and then Robert’s own whimpers and yelps and silent screams took over his senses until after his own moment of piercing came – a somewhat anticlimactic one, for certain, as the duke had visited his channel before. Still, Robert cried out and arched his back and strained at his bounds as the duke thrust inside him. The pain of abrupt stretching and plunging overtook the stinging of Robert’s red-raw buttocks gradually until, at last, Robert was able to handle and tolerate – and then, embarrassingly enough, enjoy and, finally, want – beg for – the stroking inside him.

    As he got his own emotions into check, Robert became aware that the sounds from the other bedchamber had changed too. His sister, Caroline, always a quick study and obviously having figured out the lay of the land – and, she’d have to admit, getting a very able man out of the deal – indeed was vocal in the fuck and now clearly couldn’t get enough of the lieutenant’s master cocking.

    The duke had won. This arrangement was going to work for him.

    The duke leaned over and whispered in Robert’s ear, “I foresee a long and enjoyable life of service for you, my pretty one. If my duchess will let him out of her bed, I’ll give you a taste of the lieutenant’s cocking on the morrow. I like to watch almost as much as I like to fuck – and as you have seen, the lieutenant can ream you a wider channel.”

    “Yes, sire,” Robert murmured with a sigh of resignation – and, increasingly, of want.


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  • The Banker’s Boy

    “Wash up, lazybones, and take those furs to Sir Charles,” the tanner ordered. His liquor-laden breath misted in the day’s chill.
    “Sir Charles, Father?” Tanners asked, confused.
    The tanner rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Oh ye gods, why curse me with such a stupid boy?” He turned to the young man. “The banker, the one whose son you don’t like. He’s offered three gold for the lot.”
    Tanners scowled. “Everyone follows him like sheep. He calls me names that I don’t understand. He never has a kind word for me.”
    “No reason why he should,” his father retorted. “And it’s neither the master you’ll be seeing nor his sly serpent of a son. Speak to the steward so you don’t offend the household, and don’t come back without my coin. Do you think your thick head can handle it?”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “Good. Be on your best behavior. Should you encounter Charles the Younger, stay clear of his path.”
    ****
    Tanners shivered on the cart and clicked his tongue at the donkey. Would it snow this year, he wondered? The last time the town had seen snow Tanners had been barely old enough to remember it. He hoped that Keilan was somewhere warm and safe.
    Why does the banker live so far from the town? Tanners wondered as the donkey brayed its dissatisfaction with the long stretch of road. “Easy, Donkey,” he said soothingly. Tanners could understand the animal’s frustration. Cold, none other of its kind to talk to, the donkey was probably just as confused that a wealthy man would buy a wood and put his house in the middle of it.
    The wind rustled the dead leaves and nipped at the young man’s ears. Tanners felt strangely discontent, a little morose, without understanding the reason. He had visited Melody and the baby last night, Father had been too drunk to cuff him all day, and he’d had a bath already. Why was he so restless?
    After ages the donkey hawed onto a packed dirt road that ended at a gate. Scents from a smokehouse wafted over the crisp winter breeze, and fowl squawked comically in the courtyard. The complex was huge. There were fields beyond the stone house and courtyard, horses grazing in a pasture, and what looked to be an orchard. Tanners stopped his cart near the stables and wrapped the reins around a hitching post. “Bye, Donkey.” He patted the animal’s neck. “I won’t be long.”
    “Excuse me,” Tanners said as he approached a servant, “but may I speak with the steward?”
    The man made a sign against evil. “He’ll be in the main house,” he replied, taking care to stand on the young man’s right side. “Say the names of three gods before you step foot across the threshold.”
    “Aye,” Tanners said. His demon met holy names with indifference, but the young man knew it was better to be safe than sorry. He knocked on the servant’s door and waited for a maid to open it before covering his blue eye and reciting the gods. She showed him to the main hall.
    “Wait there,” she ordered.
    Tanners sat on the hard stone bench she had indicated. He wished that he could sit on the furs and keep his buttocks warm, but settled for draping the bundle over his lap. I hope the steward arrives soon, Tanners thought. The opulent tapestries and sound of slippered feet on wood made him uncomfortable. He didn’t belong in this world.
    “What,” a man hissed, “is that thing doing in my home?”
    Tanners started and whipped his head up to see Sir Charles glowering at him from the entryway. The man with all the keys – was that the steward? – wrung his hands. Swiftly Tanners stood and bowed.
    The banker addressed his steward. “Again, what is that thing doing here?”
    Taking care not to cast his cursed gaze on the master of the house, Tanners spoke up. “I’ve delivered the furs, your lordship. For your son’s birthday.”
    The man made a noise of disgust. “Someone translate the beast’s words.”
    Tanners scowled fiercely at the floor and clenched his hands. The restive demon gnashed its teeth.
    “The gifts,” the steward explained, “for the young master’s wedding.” He snapped at a maid, who accepted the heavy bundle from the tanner’s boy with an unsubtle sign against evil.
    Sir Charles waved a dismissive hand. “Give him one gold and five silver, and see him away from this place immediately,” he said, then turned to bark at the young maid. “See those to the priest before he leaves. I won’t have tainted goods in my home.”
    Choke him, the demon urged. The steward is a weak man and the girl will only scream. Leap upon the banker’s corpulent body and end his life. Tanners shoved the beast down in its cage. Father had warned him to be on his best behavior. Though he was unlearned in the ways of society and etiquette, Tanners was positive that killing a man over an insult would involve disobeying Father’s orders.
    So busy was he arguing with the devil that Tanners didn’t notice the weak steward propelling him out of the door. Only the sound of the door slamming brought him from his reverie. Tanners stared into his hand. “Don’t come home without my coin,” Fathers had said. One gold. Five silver. That was less than half of the agreed sum. A chill pricked Tanners’ spine and raised gooseflesh. Father would be furious, but couldn’t return to the banker with demands for money. He would have no choice but to beat Tanners for it.
    Lie to him, suggested the demon. Tanners shook his head. How would a lie change five silver to two gold? Refuse to leave until you’ve received the full amount. No, the banker had used Tanners’ possession to cheat the youth’s father. Should Tanners stay he could be arrested and all his coin confiscated. Run to the goatherd. Ah, that was it. Consulting Melody was the first help that Tanners’ devil had offered all day. He could avoid his father, see his friend, and…Where was Donkey?
    The cart stood where he had left it, but the animal was nowhere in sight. Panic seized his heart. Not only had he offended the household and botched the furs transaction, but somehow he had misplaced the tannery’s only transport. Had the donkey somehow gotten loose and returned home? He hurried to the gate to look out at the road, then to the stables. There were so many horses in sight, but none had the petite stature and long ears of his beloved creature. The child to whom Tanners had spoken earlier was filling troughs. Tanners ran up to him.
    “Where’s Donkey?” he asked the stable boy. The child pointed to a stall at the end of the building, but before he could open his mouth a most odious voice filled Tanners’ ears.
    “Ah, tanner’s whelp.”
    Tanners whirled around at the sound of the familiar tenor. Charles the Younger was leading two other young men through the stable, looking pleased with himself.
    “You smell less of urine today. Got fancied up to come see us?”
    Tanners frowned. His devil did not like Charles the Younger. It sensed a swift and venomous viper in him. The demon stretched and unsheathed its claws. It must have been the devil that pulled the banker’s boy here, Tanners thought sourly. The beast was unsatisfied with Tanners’ lot in life, and felt need to remind him of status’ epitome – flaxen hair nearly white in the afternoon sun, pale and smooth skin, fine clothing cut close to highlight a lithe figure unused to heavy labor. The demon wanted to break him and Tanners both. Stay clear. His father’s words rang in his ears. Stay clear.
    Tanners backed away from his cart and lowered his gaze. There was a door at the other end of the stable next to the falconry. He had seen it on his way in. Stay clear. He turned heel and fled.
    “What is he doing?” one of Charles’s companions asked as they watched Tanners bolt from the stable.
    Tanners didn’t hear the young master’s reply, but he hoped that they didn’t chase him down together. The smokehouse on the edge of the lawn was further than the other outbuildings; perhaps he could hide there until the mean boys’ interested had waned. He dashed behind it to huddle against the warm brick. Before he had chance to catch his breath, fine red shoes filled his vision. Tanners looked up.
    “Who trained you to run when you’re called? Bad dog.”
    Tanners frowned. How had the banker’s son found him so quickly? “I’m no dog.”
    “You brought furs, did you not?” The boy leaned against the brick wall.
    Tanners nodded.
    “Pardon?”
    Aye,” the young man replied, resentment written on his face. “They were fine furs for your birthday.”
    “My wedding,” Charles corrected.
    “And your father only paid me half the price because his servants let my devil in,” Tanners continued bitterly. “Father sent me; I didn’t ask to come.”
    The blond considered that for a moment. “You’re possessed, are you not? Couldn’t your devil had said, ‘Suck my cock, you aged goat. You owe me five gold,’ or something akin to that?”
    Tanners glared so fiercely at the red shoes that he did not notice the wearer’s smile. “Five gold is too much. Moreover, I would not ask such an intimate favor from a man I did not like.”
    “I forgot,” Charles mockingly apologized, “that catamites prefer to give rather than receive, at least on the top end. But you should be long accustomed to wrinkly old dicks in your mouth.”
    I’ll chew him up, the demon offered. “I’ve only had one dick in my mouth,” Tanners snapped, “and it wasn’t old or wrinkled.”
    “That was figurative…You’ve really sucked a man’s cock?” the boy asked, incredulous.
    The tanner’s son and his devil looked up at Charles the Younger. Had some dark secret been revealed? What was so shocking? The demon clicked sharp teeth, but its host opted for honesty.
    Tanners nodded affirmation and then shrugged. “Only one, so I don’t know if I was very good at it.”
    The boy leaned his back against the bricks and laughed with unconvincing derision. “So you reckon that it takes skill. Would you like to practice, perhaps graduate from apprentice to journeyman?”
    Tanners scowled at the boy. “Don’t mock me. I don’t like it, and you’ll make the devil angry.”
    Rolling his blue eyes, Charles stood. “Perhaps if your skull were not so thick…”
    In one swift and brutal motion Tanners rose to his feet and slammed the boy against the wall.
    The young man grinned. “Hello, devil.”
    “Hold your tongue,” Tanners ordered. His breath was coming faster. He must calm down or else wake the demon with in. Calm, Tanners told himself, though he did not know how to slow his beating heart with thoughts alone.
    Charles’ pink lips turned up at the corners. “I’d rather hold yours.”
    Tanners blinked. “Pardon?”
    “I said,” the boy slid his fingertips up Tanners’ sides, “I’d rather hold yours.”
    Tanners was too ticklish for such a light touch, so he backed out of the young master’s reach. What could Charles the Younger mean by wishing to hold someone else’s tongue? Images of pincers and dungeons flashed through Tanners’ mind.
    “Whose cock was it?”
    Tanners shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Whose cock?” he repeated.
    “You sucked a man’s cock, I’d wager with some zeal.” Charles folded his arms. “I inquire as to whose.”
    It was Keilan’s, who was likely leagues away fighting villains and demons. Would he ever return? This discourse was making Tanners very lonely. “I shan’t tell you,” he muttered.
    “Such a pout on your fine lip! Let me guess,” the banker’s son said meanly. “It was that big brute squad member, the one you panted after all summer.”
    Tanners flushed.
    Charles spread his hands. “Anyone could see the way you lusted after him, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat.”
    “I didn’t do that.”
    “Of course you did, Tanners. He fucked you, didn’t he? He fucked you like a bull fucks a cow, and you begged for more.”
    “Stop. He was kind to me. I was very happy.”
    “Kind? He spent moons dangling his cock in front of you until he finally let you gobble it up. Then he left you. He’s in some other town, stuffing some other simpleton’s ass. Now you can’t find a man willing to risk his dick in order to satisfy that hungry cunt you call an anus.”
    No. It was all wrong. The stupid banker’s boy didn’t know the half of it. He was sullying a beautiful memory. Even his devil was growing angry. “Stop it!”
    Charles snickered, “Besides, does that not leave you a virgin still, never having dipped your cock into that brawny oaf’s ass?”
    The devil took hold of the rich boy’s upper arms and pinned him to the wall.
    “Ouch,” the boy said calmly.
    Tanners gripped the young man so fiercely his knuckles whitened. “You dare to mock that which you do not know,” the demon said in a growl.
    Leaning as far as Tanners’ grip would allow, the young man ran his pink tongue over Tanners’ cheekbone, under his devil’s eye. Tanners immediately recoiled in shock. The banker’s son grinned.
    “You shouldn’t do that,” Tanners warned. The devil spread its wings and stretched.
    “Why?” the youth retorted with a smirk. “I see I was right to guess that being rutted like a sow would shrivel your balls, you eunuch.”
    Was it anger that flooded his body and tightened his gut? The demon was pacing in Tanners’ skull, but there was something else beside it that kept him from sending the beast back to its cage. “Say you’re sorry.”
    The young man’s face was so close that Tanners could feel his lips move when he spoke. “Make me sorry.”
    It was the demon that took Charles by the shoulders and spun him around. It was the demon’s body that held the younger man’s upper body against the wall and kicked his legs apart. It must have been the demon, because Tanners suddenly felt the need to punish the boy’s insolence with the turgid member that strained his breeches.
    “Drop your trousers,” he growled, pressing his loins to the boy’s soft buttocks, “unless you want me to rip them from you.”
    The banker’s son untied the laces but looked back at Tanners with scorn. “You wouldn’t dare, peasant scum.”
    Tanners slapped the boy’s ass in response. Charles yelped, but did not capitulate.
    “You think one demon eye and an engorged shaft frighten me?” he sneered, sounding slightly winded. “You’ll have to use more effort than that.”
    The demon wrapped its claws around Tanners’ brain. Fuck him, fuck him, it whispered insidiously. Fuck him until he begs you to stop. Tanners stepped back only to take hold of the young man’s trousers and yank them to his feet.
    “You have the lily white buttocks of a girl,” the devil jeered as Tanners untied his belt.
    “What would you know?” Charles spat back, watching the tanner’s son free his cock from his breeches. “Only one of us has ever seen a naked woman. The other has only played the role.”
    “Then you’ll be the first to do both,” Tanners returned, and he grabbed his tumescent manhood and shoved it at the young man’s puckered entrance.
    Charles let out a gasp of pain; he was too tight to enter smoothly and Tanners had no oils. He leaned down and spat on the pink hole, unceremoniously burying a finger inside to prepare the way for his cock. The demon inside laughed as the boy’s legs shook when Tanners added a second digit.
    “Is it too much for you already, brat?”
    Forehead pressed against his arms, the boy gritted out, “I’ve seen bigger dicks than yours on a cat.”
    Tanners pulled his fingers free and stood. “Perhaps you’re in need of a closer look.” He grabbed the young man’s neck and swung him around, shoving him to his knees. Charles opened his mouth, likely to say something else disparaging, so Tanners stuffed it with his cock.
    Though the banker’s son may never have held another man’s shaft in his mouth, he made no sound of protest as Tanners guided him up and down by the hair. His hands gripped Tanners’ powerful thighs, digging into the muscle, before his fingertips drifted up to travel lightly over the dark curls covering his groin. Tanners groaned in pleasure when the young man tugged gently on his scrotum. Charles had a rich man’s hands, soft and smooth, that traced the contours of Tanners’ lower body and encircled his manhood with delicacy. His pale blue eyes stared into the mismatched pair of his aggressor with a mixture of amusement and defiance. Choke him. Wipe the smugness from his face, the devil said. No need, for the youth was attempting to fit so much of Tanners’ cock down his throat that he gagged and coughed. Undeterred, Charles pulled back, took a deep breath, and tried again. When his plump lips hit Tanners’ pubic hairs they both groaned.
    Tanners would have gladly let the young man suck him to completion, but the demon had a lesson to teach. It jerked the banker’s son to his feet, pleased to see a string of saliva connect his lip to Tanners’ phallus for a moment. “That should suffice,” the beast growled.
    Charles’ face was flushed and his eyes were glazed. “I thought – I’m surprised that you held off spilling your seed like a pubescent boy.” He sounded slightly winded. Tanners only had time to note that the young man was fully erect before the devil took over and spun the boy back around.
    “If you crave my seed, I’ll feed you.”
    Tanners watched in a reddish haze as his manhood pierced the delicate rose bud of the boy’s ass. Charles wriggled, trying to escape the intrusion. Tanners held fast to the younger man’s hips and pressed slowly and steadily. Inch by stiff inch he buried himself into that hot vise, low, throaty exhalations of pleasure ruffling Charles’ hair. The boy was murmuring to himself, a string of syllables that for a mad moment sounded to Tanners’ ears like, “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.”
    Again demon slapped Charles’ ass, enjoying the resulting gasp of pain. Tanners pulled back slowly, watching as the ring of muscle popped around the head of his cock. Beautiful, he thought. The demon knew it was a wicked thing to do – experience had taught Tanners that such a withdrawal could be as painful as the intrusion. Charles let out a high cry when the peasant suddenly plunged in again, shaking in the rough grip. Out again slowly, until that snap of flesh, then to the hilt.
    Tanners felt intoxicated, giddy with the smoothness of the younger man’s milky skin, the softness of his full buttocks, the hot grip of his cavern. It was a completely different connection from the times with Keilan, much more powerful, much less affectionate. It was the devil’s moment of glory, a lust-driven punishment for the slender form beneath him. Tanners’ hips rolled smoothly, building a slow rhythm that heated his body in spite of the winter chill.
    “You’ll not be able to sit tomorrow,” the demon promised.
    The banker’s boy turned his head to glare at Tanners with one sky-colored eye. “At this pace I’ll forget you were ever inside me.”
    Unforgivable! Tanners grabbed the young man by the hair and fucked him harder. Charles lusty cries tumbled over Tanner’s low grunts, high following low, gasp following thrust. Harder, the demon urged, digging its claws into the rich boy’s hips. Let him feel our cock in his chest.
    The beast had taken over. Tanners was losing control of his body, keeping a pace so brutal that Charles’ ass grew pink. The younger man had the sleeve of his shirt between his teeth and his eyes clenched shut. His other hand was out of sight, stretched toward his groin, but his arm moved in a familiar rhythm. Tanners gripped the Charles’ slim waist with demonic strength, bruising the tender flesh as he rutted the boy like an animal.
    The devil fucked with vicious intent, pounding the banker’s son so as to knock the breath from his lungs. Charles pushed back, using his ass to fight the man inside him.
    “You’ll not finish,” Charles declared scornfully. His voice hitched with each powerful thrust. “I wager those dangling testicles are – ah! – empty!” The last word ended in a squeal. Whether pain or ecstasy, the sound was such powerful stimulus that the demon needed no words to prove the young man wrong. The world turned bright, then black as the power of his orgasm ripped through his body, seizing his muscles and lungs. Tanners climaxed with unparalleled force, deluging the rich boy’s passage with his seed.
    Soon Tanners became aware of his bare lower half and exactly how cold it was. He stepped away from the banker’s boy; his manhood made a slick noise when it slipped out of Charles’ friction-pink hole. A quick swipe with a handkerchief cleared any evidence of the devil’s dominance. Tanners pulled up his breeches hurriedly. Would the banker’s boy tell his father that the demon had gotten loose?
    Charles pulled up his trousers, chest still heaving, and turned around. Clear fluid dripped down the side of the smokehouse from waist level. That isn’t mine, Tanners realized. He tried to consult his demon, but the beast had returned to its cage, for once of its own volition, to lick its chops contentedly.
    “I – ” Tanners began, but the young man silenced him with a soft kiss. Tanners’ wide-eyed blink disclosed his confusion.
    “Don’t tell anyone,” Charles instructed.
    Tanners shook his head. How could he ever tell anyone? No one could know how strong the demon had become. The town council would have him flogged, possibly burned.
    Charles finished tying up his trousers to place a hand lightly on Tanners’ still-flushed cheek. “Are you angry with me, Tanners?”
    “No.” Tanners said quietly. “I’m sorry I struck you so hard.”
    “Never mind that.” He smiled lopsidedly and cocked his head. “Would you repeat the act? You satisfied me greatly.”
    Was Charles the Younger a glutton for pain? Though he couldn’t imagine why the wealthy youth would wish to face the demon again, Tanners nodded.
    “Good. Here.” The banker’s son dropped a small coin purse into Tanners’ hand. “It’s the rest of what my father owes.”
    Tanners stared at the fine cloth of the purse, trying to understand. Was this not what whores did? Was he a whore now that he had copulated with two men?
    “I came to give it to you,” Charles explained. “It was wrong of him to change the agreed sum.”
    “Oh. Thank you,” Tanners said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had so abused the man who had only been trying to help.
    The young master patted Tanners’ cheek. “Good boy. Off with you, then.”
    Tanners scowled and knocked the hand away. “I’m no dog.”
    “But you’ll come when called, while you not?”
    Tanners puzzled over the question for a moment. That he came when called was true, but didn’t any man? If he agreed, would that mean he was a dog? What if – A tap on the other cheek brought him out of his thoughts.
    “I mean to say that we’ll meet again, Tanners,” Charles clarified. “When that devil inside of you has fasted long enough, and when I grow weary of being unable to touch the one I love, we’ll satisfy each other.”
    The devil opened one sleepy eye. It very much liked that idea. “All right,” Tanners agreed. “When the devil is hungry.”
    “When the devil is hungry.”
    Tanners and his devil will return in “The Goatherd


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