Author: admin

i got nervous because this was my first time so i didnt know what to expect. he unzipt my pants and i grabbed his hand and looked at him and he said “dont worry its going to be alright. he took off my pants and underwear.

there was my 7 ichs already wet cock from the precum on my stomach. i was laying on my back with my legs hanging over the bed zane was kneeling on the floor between my dangling legs. he grabbed my cock and started stroking it with his hands it wasn’t long before he was sucking my balls and licking the tip of my cock and taking my whole cock in his mouth i was in heaven 3/4 min in i couldn’t hold it in anymore, i said to zane “im gonna cum” he pulled my cock out of his mouth and started stroking it with his hands. there was a jet of thick cum shooting up into the air and landing on my stomach followed by 4 more i was covered in my own cum.

I was breathing Heavily and said “sorry i came already” i was a little embarrassed but zane said “don’t worry we’re not done yet”. he grabbed an old shirt and he wiped the cum off my stomach and threw it in the corner. Zane came back up and laid on top of me and he said “now it’s your turn” he turned us over so he was on the bottom. zane raised his arm and pushed my face into his hairy and sweaty armpits i took in the musk and started licking.

when his armpit was full of saliva he stopped pressing my head into his armpit. i went to worship his abs kissed them and played with his nipples my hands went down and untied his gym shorts. I pulled them down to his ankles and he kickt them of there was his huge cock it was at least 8 inches long, thick, veins all over uncut and a the right Amount of pubic hair. how am I going to fit that in my mouth I thought. I started licking the shaft and then the tip of his cock I try to put it all the way in at one point it didn’t go any further. zane started fucking my throat I was struggling to breathe because his tip was blocking my airway. zane was moaning loudly he took his dick out of my mouth and slapped thick huge cock in my face there was saliva everywhere zane pulled me back to me so that i was on top of him again. zane said “let me fuck you” i doubted if his dick would fit. i have put some in my ass every now and then and found it nice but not as big as zane’s dick. i said back “if you take it easy”.

zane got up and walked away a little later he came back with a bottle of lube he put some on 2 fingers and started massaging my hole. i was lying on my back with my legs pulled up and zane was on his knees between. them after a minute he stopped massaging and started gently pushing with the tip of his dick a little further each time. it hurt but in a good way when he was all the way in i let out a little scream.

he fucked me hard, his v line and hips hit my fat ass hard, zane bent over and went into the missionary position and started kissing me wildly my fat belly was rubbing against his hard abs i loved what zane was doing to me. i hugged him hard and turned us around so i was on top. i sat up still with his cock Inside. at this Point i was sweating like crazy zane too i could see drops of sweat on his body. i start riding zane he was balls deep in my ass i started to moan and a few minutes later i came again this time big shots of thin cum all over zane’s chest and abs, i kept riding his huge cock until i was done cumming.

i pulled his cock out of my ass and lay on top of him again with my cum between our bellies, it was nice and warm and kissed him he wanted me to suck his cock again so i did i got off of him and sat him on my knees zane stood up. I could see from the sweat marks where we had been lying. I took his whole cock in my mouth in one go and started sucking my hands went over his abs that were smeared with cum.

he put his hands on the back of my head and started fucking my throat I was gagging after a minute he put his cock deep in my throat he started to moan, I felt the tip throbbing he came deep in my throat the thick warm liquid slid down my throat after 2 shots I couldn’t keep up with swallowing it was too much and too. thick my mouth just filled up until it overflowed on the floor, I almost drowned. there was a big puddle of his thick cum on the floor. I think he shot a total of 12 times when. he was done he fell backwards onto the bed I was still swallowing.

when I was done I lay on top of him again his chest and abs were still a little wet from when I came on him. we got under the covers and he lay on top of me with his head on my chest and we fell asleep like that the next morning we woke up at the same time in each other’s arms it wasn’t awkward at all we laughed about it we got dressed and went downstairs to get something to eat because we were starving

The end

My name is Matteo and i’m 24.

The time was my wedding day, over a year ago now although it seems like yesterday. That day went from being the worst of my life to the best in a split second. Growing up I was a good looking boy, I played soccer and was very popular with girls due to the fact that I was tall, athletic and extremely handsome. I was by no means a heartbreaker when I was younger but when I hit high school I met Sarah. Sarah was the answer to all my prayers for a woman. She was hot, big tits, big ass, and always dressed sexy.  We were high school sweethearts and in our last year of high school I asked her to marry me. Three months after we graduated we set a date , the wedding was to be on New Years Day. Except it was not to be.

My father’s name is Luca, he’s 55. I asked him to give me away at the wedding because my mother decide to left us when I was 15. Dad always hated Sarah. He was calling her a bitch all the time.  We fought about it more than once and I am ashamed of many of the things I said in anger towards him. I told him he was an asshole who couldn’t keep his own wife and who was now trying to mess up my life.  Looking back I don’t think it was dad’s fault he couldn’t keep mom around. Dad was a very sporty man with brown hair (darker than mine) and great big pecs.

One day when dad and I were arguing about Sarah I called him a son of a bitch and he slapped me. I deserved it but I still slapped him back in the face of the moment. I dragged him to the ground as we fought and we rolled across the floor by tearing off our shirts and cursing. I felt dad’s huge dick press rubbing against mine through the fabric and his breath on my neck as we tussled and I started to feel differently. I realized I was becoming aroused. Instinctively, he rubbed his feet between my legs.  He didn’t seem to notice but I was becoming excited and horny by the second. I was straight and always dated girls so I had never been with a man before and always talked shit about gays calling them faggots with my bros from soccer games.  But now, I was feeling weird…

The night of my stag party was quite memorable as well. Dad arranged the whole thing as my Groomsmen and it was pretty raunchy for him standards. Several of our friends showed up and we opened presents. Dad gave me a jockstrap and a pair of sheer socks. Dad laughed so hard when I opened it. I thought I saw wine come out his nose. Strangely enough, dad shouted out that I should model it for the crowd of men but I declined.

Well, maybe you’ll give me a private showing later.” He said. Most of my bros were laughing so hard they drowned him out but I heard him loud and clear. I wondered if dad was thinking what I was thinking at that point. I would find out on my wedding day. A little later I opened another box from dad and inside was a fake vagina. Everyone was laughing.

“Now you can pleasure yourself when your pretty princess is out of town”. Dad said and I noticed him licking his lips.

Finally my wedding day had come. Of course there was a hurricane outside, I was all dressed up in a very blue classy costume with a pink tie. The crowd gathered even though the storm outside was miserable. Dad was done up in a cream colored costume that showed  his bulge a little too much. Sometimes I thought he was giving me this little show intentionally. Everyone was in place and ready to go, except the wife. Sarah was nowhere to be found. Of course there was a blizzard outside and she could very well be late because of that so we waited.

And waited, and waited, and waited. She never showed up. I was frantic, I

thought she may have been in an accident, dead, or even worse, bleeding to death alone in the cold. Finally word came. One of Sarah’s bridesmaids  got a call on her phone. It was Sarah. She was still stuck at home due to the really bad weather. What would I do now ?… I was in front of all my friends and relatives. Worst of all it was in front of my father, the only one that was smiling. Damn him!

I stormed down off the altar and back into the rectory as the church quickly emptied out with “tsk tsk” sounds and “what’s happening now ?” floating in whispers above the crowd. Soon the church was empty and I was alone in the rectory. I had locked the door and considered killing myself right then and there, lucky for me there was no way to do such a thing. I heard my father knock on the door and whisper my name.  He said he was outside with the priest if I needed to talk. I told him the only one I could talk to was him and no one else. I heard him talk to the priest for a moment and he said he would go next door to the church hall where the reception was supposed to be, that should give us some privacy.  When I heard him go I let dad in. My face was streaked with tears and eye shadow. Dad shut the door and came over to me, taking me in his arms.

“Why me dad?” I asked, “I love her so much. We were about to have the wedding of our dreams but with that hurricane bad weather she cannot be here. We’ll have to choose another date and it takes so much time !” When dad answered his voice was a whisper and it was very comforting.

“Sometimes life puts us in front of unforeseen events my little champ. But don’t worry son, you will soon be able to join your pretty princess…And never forget, I love you son”.He look at me with a mix of a tender and vicious smile.

I rested my head on my fathers lap, taking all the comfort from him I could. I noticed that dad’s breathing was getting deeper. Maybe heavier?

He ran his hands through my hair and shushed me until I had finally stopped crying. I dropped my hand down to his knee and quite instinctively squeezed his bulge. I felt his jump a bit but he didn’t say anything. He just continued to run his hands through my hair. My breath started to get shallow and come in shorter gasps. I was becoming excited, and very very horny. I needed sex and I needed it now. Sarah and I decided we wouldn’t have any sex or even live together for three months before the wedding, I was dying for an orgasm. I raised my head up to meet my fathers and he started to kiss my tears, trying to make me feel better. I looked at him with my best dark eyes and he continued to kiss my face wear the tears had been. I started to breathe heavily.

“Don’t worry my champ,” he whispered to me, “daddy’s here.” And he kissed where a tear had been, and then he ran his tongue over the wet spot on my face. I almost melted right there. Dad’s tongue was thick and long and he almost made me cum right there by doing that. He licked my face again and I let him. He took this as my approval to what he was doing. He licked again and I moaned. Again he licked my face with more force, leaving a trail of spit on my face. I took his chin in my hand and pulled him towards me again. He licked my face from my eye down over my beard. This time I licked him back.  Dad definitely moaned when I finally gave in and licked his face. He licked me back, and I licked him. Our tongues met and we played with each other as if they were swords or something. The two of us continued to lick and exchange spittle on one another’s tongues until he took the next step and sucked my tongue right into his mouth.

I was totally his now. He could do anything he wanted with me and I hoped he would. Dad and I kissed with no thought of incest or the fact that we were 100% straight… or 99.9% now…I am still in my groom costume. He sucked on my tongue and I in turn sucked on his, we were both becoming violently aroused and nothing could stop us from doing what was to follow. My hands reached up and squeezed dad’s huge bulge . He exhaled loudly when I did that and I smiled for the first time since I entered the rectory. Dad saw this.

“I’m glad you can still smile.” He said breathlessly as I licked my waydown his neck.

“You make me happy.” I responded. I feel dad pushing me so that I’m in front of him. He cursed while he was taking off the buttons of my shirt.

“Fuck my baby boy, I want you. I want to pleasure you.

“Hummmm daaaad oh my god I don’t know what’s happen to me but I’m so fucking horny”

I hiked up dad’s trousers and ran my hands up his hairy legs. He shivered at my touch and I was honored to pleasure him.  My hands ran up the inside of his boxer and I found something hard and wet between his legs. Dad was indeed dripping precum, I was so excited to know that he was dripping wet for me.

Finally my dad pushed me back so that I could face him. He took off my moccasins and noticed that I was wearing the sheer socks he gave. He practically started getting harder when he saw this way. I put my feet in front of his face and he buried his face in my feet.

his tongue set me on fire. He started to remove my sheer socks and suck my toes. I was so turned on. Dad laid his legs on my lap and started to rub my crotch with his socked feet. I do the same he was doing. I grabbed his foot, remove his socks and put all of his toes in my mouth. We were here, lying eating and licking each other’s foot. I stood up before him and the groom trouser  fell down to my ankles, revealing the Calvin Klein boxer. Dad pulled the material of my boxer aside and, all the while looking lovingly into my eyes, began to suck my dick. Sarah  was never very good at giving blowjobs. Dad’s tongue was soft and wet and when he lick my balls and practically fell down in ecstasy. Dad noticed this and stood before me, face to face. I kissed him passionately and he lay me down on the floor on my back. He gladly spread my ass for him, exposing my hairy cunt to him. Dad stood before me and reached around to his back, I heard him unzip his pants and he let it fall down around his knees.

Dad looked so masculine, his cock was very big with excitement. His abs and pecs were huge and his legs were well muscled and hairy. I wanted him between in my ass. As if he read my mind dad got down on his hands and knees and dropped his head Into my ass.  I felt his tongue invade me and I convulsed in pleasure.

FUCK!” I yelled.

“Matteo, we’re in a church,” Dad joked, “cursing is for bad boys.”

“Shut and eat me bitch. I am gonna be a bad boy for you you slut. Make me fuckin’ cum!” I said to him just to shock him. Dad just smiled and buried his face in my tight asshole. I just about fainted with the ferocity of dad’s tongue attack. His silky wet tongue swirled all over my g-spot and I felt his fingers spread my cunt.  I felt the two fingers of his other hand slide into me and I humped against them as hard as I possibly could. Dad had a rude tongue and invaded every inch of my tongue as I squealed in delight on the rectory floor.

I really began to hyperventilate.  This was better than any woman had ever given me. I was about to cum when dad stopped eating me, I looked at him with disappointment but he only smiled.

“Get on your hands and knees for me Matteo. Daddy has a treat for you.” Dad said.

I did as he asked with great urgency, I needed to cum or I would explode.

My dad put his big cock in front of my ass and I felt the head of it invade me and begin to slide into me.

I screamed as dad thrust the thing all the way into me and started to fuck my face rapidly. I felt dad reach over and grab my hair, pulling me back towards him. The only sounds in the entire church now were that of our bodies slapping together, my fathers grunts of exertion and my muffled screaming “Scream my champ. Hump me you little slut, as hard as you can.

Daddy will make you cum as hard as you need to.” 

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me!” I panted over and over. Dad continued to thrust into me as hard as he possibly could and I was approaching nirvana. I had never been fucked because it was a “gay thing” but god dad was making wild.

“UnghhhhhhhhhhH! FUCKKKKKKKKK!!!” I remember yelling and then I continued a string of curses and moans. To heighten my sensation dad brought his free hand down hard on my ass cheek, spanking me hard. I came again when he did it.

After a few minutes I stopped humping dad and rested a moment on the floor, I could still feel his huge cock in my ass. That did it for me. Thinking about the fact that I’ve always been the hottest guy in my class that made all the girls wet and now I was my father’s love toy, I still don’t consider myself gay because I’m still horny after Sarah but damn ! That was hot ! I think that the only man that I am attracted is my dad.

“That was so hot dad.” I whispered.

“Ohhh yess son  what we’ve done was so sexy” He whispered in that tone of his again. I knew everything was going to be all right. Dad pulled out of me and let go of my hair and I fell to the floor. I looked around at dad with animal lust in my eyes. It was incest. It was wrong, it was all we wanted. I needed to rearranged the things and show him that I was also a match fucker. I needed to fuck my own father  right there on the floor of the church rectory.

I jumped on him like an animal attacking his prey. Dad could only squeal with delight. I  kissed my way down his body , leaving a trail of my spit down his abs. Dad was very hairy like me but it wasn’t a problem. I ran my tongue through his cock and he moaned. I saw he was having an orgasm so I immediately went more aggressive.

“God Damn it Matteo! Suck me baby! Suck me!” I was shocked to hear dad talk like this but I admit it turned me on like nothing else I had ever experienced. Dad started to pant and claw at my hair as I was sucking a dick for the first time. Then I stoped. I had an idea I instinctively knew what to do to please dad even more. Dad moaned as I inserted my big toe in his cunt and started to rapidly

Foot-fuck him. Dad was practically whimpering.

“God Matteo you give the best fuck you little slut!” He screamed.

When I inserted a my whole foot in his asshole and he immediately came harder than anyone I had ever seen. I was so proud of my performance. After several minutes dad recovered and looked up at me, smiling. I smiled back, I was so proud to give him such an orgasm. Proud to give him such pleasure. We kissed and then my dad licked my foot clean the one that I fisted in his asshole.

“That was the best fuck I had ever had.” I told him.

We kissed again and again when we heard a female voice calling my name “Matteo !, Matteo ! I’m here sweetheart !”

Dad and I started at each others and both laughed. She could wait after all.

[The end]

Hello everyone, I’ve never posted on here but I’ve been thinking about what happened last week non-stop and I really want to share it with someone. 

So, before we start, a bit of background: I am a 30 year old white man, around 180cm tall. I am quite hairy with dark hair, and even though I am not muscular I am quite toned as I am always on my feet and have been quite serious about going to the gym for the past year or so. I am openly gay but everyone is surprised when they hear I am, especially at work. 

I am a doctor and therefore work night shifts and other types of unsociable hours. The way it works in the hospital I’m at the moment is that on nights there’s usually a newly qualified doctor looking after inpatients (with the support of a more senior doctor), and taking care of new admissions are a senior specialty doctor and a doctor of any grade of seniority between 3 and 5 years post qualification (which is the level I am at). 

Anyway, all of this is necessary to get a picture of what happened two days ago. I was on a night shift with one of the few good looking doctors of my department. He is my senior so we ended up working closely together for the entire night shift. 

To paint you a picture he is in his mid thirties, light brown to blonde hair, brown eyes, slightly taller than me and just overall a very fucking attractive man. On nights we tend to wear scrubs instead of smart casual clothing as they are more comfortable. Not only they are more comfortable, but they don’t leave much to the imagination – think of them as thinner sweatspants. His arms look absolutely fantastic in those scrubs and the way they hug his ass is phenomenal. 

For the sake of this story I’ll call him Tom. 

Knowing I was going to be on nights with him made me surprisingly excited going into work (he is also a great doctor, so definitely someone you want to work with!). I was extremely excited about hopefully getting some breaks together, especially to hopefully squeeze in a nap in the tiny doctors’ room together (not uncommon to do on night shifts – you gotta take a break whenever it presents itself). 

Now, don’t get me wrong: I didn’t think anything was gonna happen, both because night shifts rarely give you time to even take a piss and because I knew he was married to a woman and had kids. But a slutty gay man such as myself was always gonna be happy about spending time in close proximity of a very hot man.  

The first shift started like any other shift, there were a lot of patients to admit and quite a lot of sick people so we worked relentlessly until probably 5am when we finally managed to get some breakfast. 

“Why don’t you finish up with this patient and then we head for a break, I need to lie down for a bit.” He said to me as we were both deep in some paperwork at the desk. 

“Yeah sounds good, you can go ahead and I’ll catch up with you in a few” I smiled back, knowing it was gonna take me quite a bit to wrap things up. 

“Cool, give me a ring if you need help with anything” he said before getting up and heading to the doctors’ room. 

As soon as I was done with my stuff, I got up and headed to the room, ready to crash. When I got there, Tom was on one of the armchairs, fully relaxed and with his arms stretched above his head. And what a sight that was: his legs were spread open, giving full view of his bulge; his top had ridden up his torso slightly, showing the brown hair on his lower abdomen (a godly trail leading all the way to his cock); veiny forearms and hands stretching above his head; and his biceps… Oh lord those biceps! They were ever so slightly flexed because of how he was sitting and they were just about straining against the sleeves of the scrubs. 

I knew then I shouldn’t stare but it was pretty much impossible, so I kept my eyes on him for maybe a bit too long as I headed to the sofa opposite him to have my food with a view ;P

The TV was playing some stupid show in the background. The typical stuff that you’d expect a TV to play at 4/5 am. We mainly sat in silence, me eating my food and stealing glances at Tom, and Tom just relaxing in the chair and absentmindedly watching TV. Sometimes we would chat about something random, but the conversation would also end quickly as it usually does when exchanging pleasantries. 

At some point he asked me whether I was married or not and we stayed talking about personal stuff a bit more. I told him that no, I am not married but that I have a partner I live with. He, on the other hand, is married with two kids, his wife works for a media company in London so travels a lot. He then admitted that it was hard trying to organise childcare between both their jobs, especially when his night shifts happened when she was out of town, like on that week. 

I didn’t have much to contribute to that conversation to be honest, so I just kind of agreed and feasted my eyes on him as he was talking. After that we both were quiet for a bit (it must have been about 15 minutes into the break at that point). 

“TV at this time is so weird.” Tom then said out of the blue. 

“Yeah it really is.” I replied, glancing at the TV. 

“I guess we missed the fun programmes by a few hours.” He laughed, turning to look at me. I swear he very slightly adjusted his underwear and shuffled himself up on the chair. 

“Yeah a bit too late for those I guess…” I replied. “Do people still watch them?” I asked, not thinking much of the conversation at the time. 

“I guess not as much… Although last time I was on nights there were some interesting ones.” He admitted, again looking at me to possibly gauge my reaction to what he had just said. 

It took me a while to come up with an appropriate answer. At this point I literally had no idea what Tom’s intentions were and I just assumed he was making typical man talk. 

“That must have been a chill shift if you managed to do that.” I laughed at the end, trying to play it cool. I started feeling my mind wander to Tom on that exact chair watching some basic porn on the doctors’ room TV and that started getting me hard. I shifter on the sofa. Those scrubs really hide nothing…

“Yeah it wasn’t too bad.” He said.

He was quiet for a bit, and I thought that was gonna be the end of it. A mixture of relieved and disappointed that that conversation had ended so quickly. 

“It’s just night shifts,” he then continued out of the blue, breaking the silence, “they get me so pent up.”

I honestly didn’t know what to reply to that. What do you say to your (hot) senior colleague when they tell you that working nights makes them horny? 

I glanced at him and I could see him adjusting himself, this time as clear as day. His bulge looked quite impressive but I couldn’t stare for too long. 

I kept playing the conversation in my head, trying to think of ways to reply. Was that a hint? Was that just him making bravado talk? 

“Never thought of it like that,” I then said, grabbing a cushion and putting it on my lap to hide my now growing boner. “But yeah, I guess night shifts make me horny too.”

I could see Tom relaxing a bit after I said that. “Do you ever…” He asked, his eyes fixed on the TV, “you know, take care of it?”

“Not when in work, no.” I said, a bit too quickly. 

Now, real talk: have I wanked in the hospital during one of my shifts? Absolutely yes, multiple times actually. Am I going to divulge that information to my senior? Uhm maybe, but not right away!

“… Have you?” I asked

He seemed to think about it, he then looked at me, glanced at the cushion on my lap and said “yeah, I have a few times. It’s a nice way to have a break from the job and to focus on the work.”

“But also most of the time I know I can take care of it whenever I get home to my wife.” He added. “It’s always worse when I know she’s not going to be at home to help me out.”

“I can imagine,” I said, finally just giving in to the weird and very arousing chat we were having. “My partner is at home so I guess I won’t have that problem.”

“Lucky you.” He replied, his right hand now fully grabbing his own growing bulge. “I guess you and her are gonna have some fun after work.” He added, hand still on his crotch. 

“Yeah, he will definitely help me out when I get home.” It’s normal for people to assume I am with a woman, so I am used to just correcting people, but this time I subconsciously put the emphasis on the pronoun. 

“Ah,” he said, “lucky him then.” 

At this point, between the sexual innuendos and the idea of getting fucked by my boyfriend when I went home, I was hard as a rock, so very grateful for the cushion on my lap. 

“Yeah, but also lucky me haha” I laughed. “Sorry you will have to find other ways to release that pressure.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find a way” he joked “it’s just not the same when it’s my own hand” he said as he looked at me, his hand now moving inside his trousers to adjust himself. 

“Will you even be able to go back to work with that in your pants?” His hardening cock now in pretty much full view under the trousers. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it at that point, so might as well make a joking comment on it. 

“Haha I probably won’t, might get a few bad looks from patients and nurses if I do that.” 

“I mean I don’t know about bad looks, but people will be looking for sure.” 

He laughed as he kept moving his hand in his underwear. I was painfully hard at that point and my brain had completely switched off, all my decisions were driven by my cock instead. 

“Regardless of looks I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on work with this going on” he said, grabbing his cock through his trousers and giving it a little shake. 

He looked so thick and big my mouth was literally starting to water. I couldn’t believe that was happening. 

“Well you better take care of it then, for patient care and all that” I said, putting on a fake innocent voice. 

“Yeah I might have to” he confirmed “but the closest toilet is miles away and there is no way I can walk down the corridor looking like this” he said as he pointed at his still growing bulge. 

I took that excuse to properly look at it, unapologetically. His cock wasn’t really creating an outline anymore but a proper tent in his trousers. He looked as big as I expected him to be. From where I was I though I could see a small wet patch on his trousers too. That all situation was driving me insane, but I honestly still thought he was just chatting to me as if he would chat to one of his mates. 

“Yeah, that” I said, pointing at his boner, “would make walking down the corridor a bit awkward.”

“Is it okay if I just…” He started asking, with some hesitation in his voice, “take care of this here?” 

I thought I was going to explode right there an then. These are things I have only ever read on porn stories or watched on porn videos, I didn’t think it could possibly be happening to me. “Of course!” I replied after a beat, voice slightly shaking. “Let me give you some privacy.” I added.

As I made to get up, I tried to adjust myself so that my boner wouldn’t show, but honestly I was way past the point of hiding, so now I was just standing up with a fully stiff cock tenting my trousers up. I saw Tom glancing at it, smirking. 

“I don’t think you can safely walk down that corridor either.” He laughed, pointing at my boner with his gaze. 

I looked down and sure enough my boner was so evident. I tried to adjust it again but it just wouldn’t stay down. 

“I mean don’t feel like you need to leave on my account.” He said, lying back on the armchair, fully putting his bulge on show. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a wank with someone else in the room.”

I hesitated initially but one more look at his erection was all the convincing I needed. I took my seat on the smaller armchair next to him this time, instead of the sofa opposite. 

“And I don’t think this would be the first time you’ve seen a man wank either.” He added, clearly alluding at my sexuality. 

As I made myself comfortable on the chair my mind was going crazy. This felt wrong in so many ways: we were in the hospital, working hours, in a relatively public room the other doctors on duty could walk into at any time and also my partner and I had never agreed to either of us doing anything with anyone else. My horniness clearly won though, especially when Tom started untying his scrub trousers and looked at me to ask: “shall we watch something?” 

All my hesitations dropped. It was just a wank, nothing else, and we knew our colleagues had had a break not too long before us and we’re busy somewhere else on the wards.

“Sure” my simple answer. 

“Anything in mind?” He got his phone out and started searching for the usual porn websites. 

“No, you can put anything on.” I said. And honestly I didn’t care about the porn, I just wanted him to get his cock out so that I could finally see it. I was holding on by a thread at that point, I could feel my cock leaking precum at the thought of Tom wanking right next to me. 

“Shit.” He said, trying to reload the web browser. “The sites are blocked from the WiFi and I have no signal here.” 

My heart sank. I didn’t want to pass on this opportunity now that it had presented itself. 

“Would you mind if I just play one of my videos?” He asked then. And I knew he wasn’t really going to wait for my response cause he was already going to the locked folder of his phone. 

I just said yes I think. The rest was a bit of a blur of events, up until he chose a video to play and finally lowered his trousers and got his cock out. 

The video he picked was just a POV of him fucking who I assumed was his wife in doggy style. He seemed to be going hard at it. I didn’t pay much attention to it though as all my attention was taken by his fully hard, glistening cock. 

He was uncut, probably around 7 to 8 inches, so definitely as big as I had imagined. What got to me though was how girthy and heavy it looked. The head of his penis was covered in precum, and some of it was leaking down his shaft. 

My mouth is watering now just thinking of it haha

I couldn’t wait any longer so I followed suit and got my hard cock out. On comparison my cock looked quite small, even though I am on the 7 inches of length it was his girth that made mine ook smaller in comparison. 

He started stroking his cock immediately, fully focused on his video, he was going for hard and quick pumps, making a mess with his precum. I don’t know what stopped me from leaning over and wrap my mouth around it. I wanted to lick him clean so bad. 

As I started stroking my own cock I knew I wasn’t gonna last long. My eyes fixated on his hand and his cock, I wanted to reach out so bad but I held myself. 

After a couple of minutes the video ended and he started looking for another one. 

“Fuck,” he said, his voice deep and full of lust, “I love the feeling of a nice ass.” 

I assumed he was referring to the video he had just played, but I thought I’d take the hint. 

“Well you showed me one of yours, let me show you one of mine.” I said, grabbing my phone from the table in front of us. I made an effort to lean over a bit too much so that I could show my ass. I swear I caught him staring when I sat back down. 

As I went through my locked folder, I could see him looking at my cock and stroking his own. I hurried up and chose to play a video of me being fucked by my boyfriend. It’s a video we shot in a hotel room, we’re both on the bed, I’m on all fours and my bf is behind me fucking me quite hard and filming us in the mirror opposite the bed. One of my favourite videos we shot. 

Anyway, as I started playing it I had to stop touching myself as I was getting too horny. The thought of this fucking hot man, my senior, stroking his cock while watching me getting railed by my bf was just too much. 

“Jesus he is pounding you.” He said, with the same voice full of desire. 

“I like it when he goes hard.” I replied, eyes fixated on his cock. It looked like he was gonna burst any moment now. 

“I bet you do.” He said, taking his eyes away from my phone only momentarily to look me in the eyes. “Although I doubt you’d be able to handle this.” He added, slapping his meat on his hand. God the sound it made drove me mad. 

“You’d be surprised.” I said as I started stroking myself again. 

“Fuck!” He grunted. “You’re taking that like a pro. Your boyfriend is very lucky.”

That was it, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I started pumping faster, eyes on his dick. Tom’s strokes had also started getting more energetic and erratic. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum” I said, trying not too be too loud. Before I could think on where to cum I started shooting my load. I usually cum a lot especially when I wank, and this time was no exception. I shot around 6 ropes of cum, all over my scrub tops. 

“I’m gonna shoot.” He also grunted, got on the edge of the armchair and started unloading his nut in his own and. The view was spectacular, his back muscles flexing as he orgasmed was a spectacular view. 

After he shot all of his cum – most of it in his hand, but some went too far and landed on the table – he laid back on the chair, spent. A thin layer of sweat on him that made him look even more attractive. 

And his cock was still semi, going flaccid. Still huge, with tiny drops of cum from the head. 

“That was…” He started, “Great.” 

“Yeah, it really was.” I laughed, glad there was no tension. “Just a shame all that went to waste.” I dared, pointing at the cum going cold in his hand. 

“Ha!” He laughed, before getting up and cleaning some of the mess he had made. 

I stayed there for a bit longer before gett out of my scrub top and changing it for one of the clean ones in the room. 

“Well,” he said breaking the silence, “now that we can focus on work we should probably get back to it.” 

“Yeah, shall I meet you back there?”

“Yeah, don’t rush. I think it’s finally calmed down a bit so we should be okay before handover.” 

The rest of the shift went by quickly and honestly there was no awkwardness between us. I honestly think it was literally a wank between friends, and even though I hope it can become more, I wouldn’t know where to start and can’t really push too much given he is my colleague and senior.

I do have another night shift with him next week so I am definitely excited for that! 

P.s.

I told my boyfriend all about it and he thought it was really hot, he was just jealous I didn’t have any photos of the doctor in question!

My mind began to wake up but I could tell I was in a fog. I tried opening my eyes but couldn’t. I tried, but they were stuck. Then I realized the aching in my hips and the fact that my wrists are still cuffed to my ankles.

I wiggled around on the bed blindly looking for the key and finally felt my fingers on it. After some struggling and a lot of cussing I finally got my ankle loose and let my leg down. Fire burned through my hips like nothing I’d ever felt, like my leg was being ripped out of my hips. I reached up with my one free hand and tried to physically open my eyes.

My lashes had gotten stuck together from all of the spit and dick juice he left all over my face last night. I passed out and it dried shut like glue. I had to gently pull of my fake lashes just to open my eyes.

I could see it was daylight outside and I heard the maids rustling around outside. Thank goodness they didn’t come in my room and find me like that, I would just die from the humiliation. The clock said 8am and my new black Daddy said he was going to be here at 10. I better hurry.

I could barely walk after my legs were tied up like that all night, so I crawled into the tub and laid down and let the hot water wash over me, slowly starting to relax my sore muscles. That’s when I realized I still had a butt plug in me, and my little butt was really starting to ache from it being in me for so long. I put that plug in myself over 12 hours ago. Goodness, no wonder I was aching.

I spent the next two hours getting cleaned up, freshened up, and applying my makeup again. I was thankful for all the nights I spent practicing in the mirror as it was starting to get a little easier now to get a decent result. I knew I had to go outside so I went with a nice base, but held off on the over the top touches like my eyes and lips. I could do that later pretty quickly with my base already applied.

I got dressed with my icky boy clothes covering my stockings and panties, but like always no amount of shirt could hide what was going on with my chest. I had always had boy boobies even though I was skinny. I had hated them so much, such a source of embarrassment to me growing up. I always wore an extra unbuttoned shirt over my tshirts because of it, trying to hide the very feminine things growing on my body.

I checked out of my room, just knowing the whole time that the clerk knew what I did last night. I went to my car and put my bags in the trunk, keeping my one bag with all my girly things with me. I was standing there in the parking lot looking around, not knowing what Daddy drove and him not knowing what I drove. Then I started to feel foolish standing out there.

What in the actual fuck am I doing out here? I hadn’t even stopped to think about what I had been doing the whole morning, I just obediently got myself ready and waited for Daddy like he told me. I never stopped to think about what I was doing, The drugs were still fucking with me from last night and I wasn’t really thinking clearly.

This guy didn’t know who I was, I could get in my car and go home right now. Why am I standing out here waiting on him? He was so rough with me and I still couldn’t believe he slapped me in the face like that.

I moved my jaw a bit and my whole mouth was sore, from his slaps or from what he did to my throat, I didn’t know. I almost started crying thinking about it. What a sight I must have been standing there, a newly broken-in white pussyboi crying in the parking lot about how mean his black Daddy was to him.

Just when I was about to have a clear thought and leave, a car comes pulling in the parking lot, slowly, deliberately coming straight towards me. I was the only car in this part of the lot, all the traveling construction workers had left for work already and their big trucks were gone. Now it was just me standing there beside my car, stuck like a deer in headlights.

The window rolled down and there he was. “Hey, Candi baby, sleep good?” Oh fuck, I told him my sissy name? When did I do that? Great, and now he knows my license number. What the fuck am I doing? My brain was so foggy and slow this morning.

“Hi…,” I tried to say, but then I realized how bruised my throat was. That was the first time I’d tried to talk all morning, and I couldn’t. I reached up and touched my sore neck, tenderly moving my fingers around. Holy shit, what did he do to me? I looked at Daddy in disbelief with what I thought was a decidedly angry stare, but I think it just came across to him as kind of bratty and silly, considering the night before.

“I know you’re new at this, and I know your throat hurts, so I’ll let that go just this one time. But I won’t tell you again, bitch. I’m your black Daddy now, and you’ll come at me right.”

“Hi Daddy,” I managed to squeak out, still holding my neck.

“When you gotta be home, slut?”

“Monday, Daddy.”

“Good. We’ll park your car at the airport and you ride home with me. You don’t wanna park that thing on my street. Follow me.”

I followed his car, realizing how slow my eyes were moving in my head, like my sockets were full of sand and they just wouldn’t move fast enough. I needed a pick me up so I popped a few adderall and gently washed them down with some stale water.

Well, I thought to myself, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about sucking Daddy anymore this weekend, my throat is way too sore. I could barely swallow my drink.

Why do I keep calling him Daddy like that when he’s not even here? And why do I keep doing everything he tells me without saying no? I’m not normally like this, I’m usually feisty and stubborn.

Why am I like this?

We got parked in the airport lot and I started to get into Daddy’s car but the door was locked. He rolled down the window halfway.

“Hell no, bitch. You don’t get in my car looking like a fag. Get your bitch ass dressed and try again.” Window rolled up, leaving me standing there looking at my reflection in the tinted window.

I looked around but the structure was empty, so I shimmied out of my jeans and shirts real quick, wiggled into a way too short black leather mini skirt, and put on a hot pink mesh crop top over my black push up bra.

I was getting really nervous now. There was no hiding what I was if anyone came around. I sat on my trunk and slipped on my cheap fuck-me heels, put away my boy things, and strutted over to Daddy’s car. I was scared to death, but I felt sexy, the danger was intoxicating.

I tried the door again. Still locked.

The window rolls down a crack and I hear, “Makeup you dumb bitch.” Window up.

I didn’t have a good way to finish my makeup, not like there was a vanity around. Then I noticed my refection on his shiny tinted windows. So I used the passenger window as my mirror, caking on pink eye shadow, lining my eyes, and painting my lips with bubblegum pink gloss. I smacked my lips a few times in the glass, knowing he was watching me from inside. The feeling of having wet, sticky painted lips is one of the sexiest feelings ever, it just brings out the slut in me knowing my mouth is ready for funsies.

I heard the lock click and I opened up and climbed in.

I slid into the seat, taking in the fact that my skirt was way too short and most of my pale thighs were exposed now, not to mention the top of my stockings and garter straps being on full display. My heels kicked my legs up even further so I kept my knees pressed together and leaned them towards the middle of the car in as feminine a pose as I could muster.

Daddy drove away and as we were going down the road he reached over and put his hand on my thigh. Just resting it there, not gripping or stroking, just holding my leg. The longer we drove, the hornier I was getting. In my mind I was begging him to caress my thigh, to rub his rough hands all over my soft skin, anything. Just touch my hungry body.

If chastity hadn’t made me impotent years ago, I’d have the hardest little three inch stiffy anyone has ever seen right then.

Finally we pulled into a driveway and into his garage. Wait, a two car garage. Daddy and I got out and I stood there gawking at his garage. I could’ve parked my car in here!

I looked at Daddy and he was smirking at me like he just won some big prize.

“Yeah, you could’ve parked in here, but I wanted you to see the neighborhood you in now. Ain’t no Uber coming out here to pick you up, you got a 12 block hike down to the gas station if you want a ride back. And you have to walk there, looking like that. I’m betting you ain’t going to make it too far. I bet you don’t make it two blocks.” He turned and went inside, leaving me standing there alone.

That sneaky mother fucker, I thought to myself. He trapped me again, just like last night. But there was no sense in playing games with myself. I couldn’t change my mind now even if I wanted to. I carefully stepped inside this strange man’s home.

I expected the worse from a bachelor man, but it’s not what I got. It was clean. Really clean. It smelled just like his car and his body, fresh and manly. It looked like everything had it’s proper place, wasn’t so much as a sock on the floor. Either Daddy was really neat and tidy, or he had a cleaning ho.

Daddy stood there in the kitchen sipping a drink, watching me look around like a scared bunny, taking it all in. He walked over to me and wasted no time as he slid his hands around to my butt. He starts pulling up on my cheeks, spreading them apart, kneading them in his hands like putty, my tiny skirt riding up and giving him full access. He was so rough and strong that I was wobbling in my heels, trying my hardest not to fall while balancing on my tippy toes. I grabbed onto his shoulders and rested my head on his chest, my hands trembling while I held on for dear life. The adderall had my head spinning in all directions. I could feel the lust building in me as this man groped my little bottom like he owned it.

With one final slap of my cheeks, he lets go and takes a step back as I try to regain my balance without him to hold on to. He stares at me, beating me down with his eyes, and starts taking off his clothes. All I can do is watch in a trance, standing there panting like a bitch in heat after getting groped like that.

Each piece coming off, revealing his body to me, forcing me to watch this unfold in front my eyes. No wonder he could throw me around so easy, he’s rippling. His arms are bigger than my thighs. Finally he pulls off his shorts and I see that familiar dick swinging there between his legs, supremely confident in his manhood while mine was permanently limp and locked in the tiniest inverted steel cage I could find.

He takes my chin gently into his hand and lifts my face to look at him.

“I know I was a little rough on that throat last night, but you still got it to do. Do it right and I’ll go easy on your mouth this time. Do it wrong and I’ll knock out all your teeth.”

I should’ve been surprised, but I knew it was coming. I wasn’t even aware of how sore my entire mouth was anymore, all I could think about was wrapping my lips around his big head one more time.

I lowered myself to my sore knees just like last night. I shimmied my way up closer to his legs and wrapped my arms around them for support, then stared raising my head, reaching his big balls and sucking them into my mouth. He stroked his dick right over my face while I worshiped his big yummy nuts, slurping on them, pulling on them with my mouth, sucking on them and letting them pop out my my lips. My nut sucking fetish was born.

I was in sissy heaven. I was loving this so much. This is was real life porn, right in front of me. How many times have I dreamed of suckling on big black balls like this while he pumped his horny dick in my face?

After a while he pulls his balls out of my mouth and sits down on the chair, still stroking that big piece of fuck meat in the most obscene way. This whole thing was obscene, the entire scene raping my eyes. I crawled on all fours over to him, trying my hardest to sway my hips side to side the way the girls do. I ran my hands up his calves, over his thighs and I as came up to his dick level, he pushed it down and fed it right into my mouth.

I slipped his head into my mouth and swirled my tongue around and under his foreskin, exploring, trying to get every drop of yummy precum that I knew was hiding in there. I gently and slowly started pulling back the skin with one shaking hand, exposing his bare cock head in my mouth, cupping his heavy hanging nuts with my other hand, gently massaging them like I had so many times in my fantasies.

Daddy just let me enjoy myself as he watched, tipping his head back and moaning from time to time. That moan was music to my ears, audible verification that I was doing a good job, being a good girl for him. I lovingly made out with his head, poking my tongue into his hole, letting his head rest on my wet tongue, and moving it all around the sensitive underside of his cock.

I was getting lost in this act. I was worshiping him, showing my submission with my hungry mouth and pathetic fuck-me eyes. All the brainwashing videos, all the training, all the femdom voices that taught me how to suck and serve, I could hear them in the back of my mind, over and over.

“You love to suck cock. Worship it. Worship his big cock. You wanted this. You need this. Just let go and worship him.” Playing over and over in my mind, guiding me down this path with their soft voices.

Finally he pulls his cock out of my mouth with a pop, spittle and precum dripping from his dick and my painted lips.

He stands up and says, “Crawl up on the couch with your booty up. Let me get a look at that pussy.” Fuck, him calling my little boi hole his pussy sent shivers through me. I crawled up, poked my little butt up as high as I could get it and pushed my face down in the cushions. I could still feel the heat on my face from when he was sitting there.

I feel Daddy start pulling on my plug. It was smaller than the one from last night because I needed a break, so this time I was wearing my heart-shaped QoS plug. He pulls it almost out, then lets my hole suck it back in. Over and over he does this, teasing me endlessly. By the time he pulls it all the way out, I’m on the verge of begging him to fuck me.

He pulls it out and plops it right into my surprised mouth before I even knew what he was doing.

“Hold your pussy plug for me.” Every time he calls it my pussy it shoots excitement through me, excitement and fear, for I still remembered him turning my throat into his pussy last night.

His hands are pulling on my cheeks again, spreading them open over and over, exposing my hole to him while he watches my smooth, pink boi pussy quiver and clench in anticipation. Every time he pulls my cheeks apart I can feel my little hole gape open, the plug having done it’s job. Then he pulls them apart so much it almost hurts, and I feel his tongue shoot right into me. Hot, wet man tongue, strong and probing me, trying to get in, trying to stretch me open. Licking around my little boi pussy lips and then diving right back in.

This didn’t last long. Apparently that was what really got him fired up. My face is still pushed into the cushions, my head bent forward so I was just able to see him from the corner of my eye, my lips still wrapped around the plug he stuck in my mouth.

“I’m gonna fuck that little pussy now. You relax and let me have it, and it won’t hurt as much. You start wriggling around and fighting it and trying to get away, and it’s gonna hurt way worse. Either way you’re getting fucked, your choice how it goes.”

His words cut me deep. My favorite porn star is Lancelot Styles, and I can’t count how many times I’ve watched him try to fuck some little whore in the ass while they keep trying to pull away and push him off. Every time I would think to myself, “Just let him have it, girl. Just let him have your hole and it won’t hurt as much. Just let him do it and you’ll love it.”

I thought of that as I watched him stroking his massive meat in his hands, stepping up behind me and taking aim. One hand grabbed my waist while his other guided his cock to my eager fuck hole.

He pushed, and my round lips opened right up for him as he pushed in the head. Of all the times I’ve been fucked, the countless hours I spent fucking myself silly with my sex machine trying to learn how to sissygasm, nothing compared to this. He was big, and I wasn’t ready for it. I wanted it, but I wasn’t ready.

He held steady for a minute, letting me adjust to his girth. Both hands grabbed my waist and he tightened, making sure I couldn’t go anywhere. Like I could. I was bent over his couch like a pretzel, my bottom sticking straight up in the air. I could only imagine how this must look, how I must look in this position, my pale white booty being mounted by this black man.

He pushed in, and I accepted him. All the way in I felt him, not too slow but unrelenting, pushing my insides around and reshaping my hole to fit his meat. I felt his body rub against my butt, and I knew he was all the way in.

I couldn’t help it, I started to cum. I had long since found out that being fully impaled like that and just letting my hole clench and quiver and spasm around the cock would cause me to sissygasm even without the motions of fucking.

I clenched and shivered and shook and came all over his wonderful cock. I knew he was loving the way it felt based on his loud moans and the filthy names he kept calling me.

“You just cum all over my big black dick, didn’t you sissy boi?”

I couldn’t answer, I just made noises, I don’t even know what they were, just random whimpers and mewls around the plug in my mouth.

“Good girl. Now it’s my turn.”

And he started fucking me. There was no warm up, he already gave me that. I feel him step up on the couch with both legs to mount me properly, and he started driving down into me so hard I thought my back would break.

There was nothing I could do but take it like a hungry slut as he fucked my boi hole so hard. My every filthy fantasy coming true right before my very eyes.

I don’t know how long he pounded me, I couldn’t even tell someone my name at that point. But I did know he wasn’t going for a marathon fuck, he needed release. I could hear it in his breathing, I could feel it as his hands tightened around my waist, gripping me so hard it hurt.

Over and over he pounded his meat into me, rubbing against my little sissy spot time and again, pummeling it into submission, coaxing my sissygasm ever closer until finally I felt it boil over.

I screamed, “Fuck me Daddy! Please fuck me harder, I’m going to cum…!”

With one final, painfully deep thrust, he starts filling my cum hole full. Deep in there, thrusting with every spurt, forcing his seed up inside me, coating my entire insides with his stickiness. Pump after pump I felt him drive into me, yelling so loud I was scared someone would hear him. All I could do was ride my own orgasm and try to use what little butt muscles I had left to help milk him dry.

Finally he stops thrusting into my belly, thankfully as he was really starting to hurt me. I felt him step down off the couch and loosen his death grip on my waist as he pulls his cock out of me. As much damage as he just did to my poor little quivering hole, I could still feel it gripping him as he tried to pull out, trying to hold him inside me. His dick popped out of me with the most obscene sound I’ve ever heard, marking in my brain forever what he just did to me.

He grabs the plug out of my mouth and quickly stuffs it back in my hole, but that plug is no match for me now. He sees this and says, “Don’t fucking move.” I see him going through my bag and comes back with the big plug. He pushes it in and seals his seed deep inside me.

“Get down here and clean up your new Daddy, bitch.”

My every muscle was fatigued, burning, so stiff I literally fell off the couch onto the floor. He stood there, not moving, just waiting for me to obey him.

I crawled across the floor the few steps it took to get to him. As I wrapped my shaking hands around his ankles, I started planting kisses on his feet, thanking him with my smooches for fucking me so good.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Smooch. “Thank you for showing me what I am.” Kiss. “Thank you.” I whimpered and whispered it over and again and worked my hands up his hairy legs, raising my mouth to feast on that shiny, slimy black dick.

He really creamed up my hole based on how sticky and covered in our juices he was. I devoured him. I licked and sucked and slurped every inch of his cock and balls, cleaning our nasty sex with my mouth and swallowing down every drop, savoring the flavor sicking to my tongue.

When he was satisfied with my work, he said, “Go fetch me a drink.”

Fuck, he’s going to make me walk now? I tried, I really did. But I was just too sore. My legs, my thighs, my hips, my back. I forgot all about my bruised throat. Everything was so weak I couldn’t get my wobbly heels under me.

So I crawled, on my hands and knees into the kitchen. He watched me crawl with my bottom sticking in the air, that big plug once again back in me, making sure his seed has plenty of time to soak in and do it’s damage to my weak whiteboi psyche.

I opened up the fridge and realized I couldn’t carry anything back if I had to crawl to him. I surely couldn’t pour him a glass. So I grabbed a bottle of water.

I don’t know what exactly was the most humiliating, the most mind-breaking, the most submissive thing that happened to me in the hours leading up to right then, but I knew what it was now.

I placed the bottle cap in my mouth and crawled back to Daddy, now sitting back on his chair, watching me with a smug grin on his face as I crawled to him, my puffy lips wrapped around that water bottle like it was another hot dick, sucking on it as hard as I could to keep it from falling.

I fully accepted what this was doing to me and I gave him the sexiest fuck-me look with my eyes as I could as I swayed my bottom in the air and made my way across the floor to him, sitting there in his throne like a conquering god.

I opened his bottle for him and sat back on my calves while he downed it in one big gulp. He left just enough in the bottom and let me have a sip.

“Damn, slut, you one sexy little fuck toy, you know that? I can’t believe you took my dick so good like that. Normally the bitches I turn out have to work up to it first.” Normally? How many sluts is he “turning out,” and what does that even mean?

“I’ve got a surprise for you. A gift to reward such good behavior.”

My eyes lit up, both with excitement and a little fear. The one hamster left in my thoroughly fucked brain was spinning as fast as it could, trying to figure out what he meant. I could only imagine the type of gift this man would want to give me, and I doubted it’s pretty flowers or a teddy bear.

“Stay.” He gets up and walks into another room leaving me sitting there on the floor again. I guess I’m his dog now, too.

He comes back with a black bag and opens it up, taking out the contents and placing them on the coffee table in the room. I truly didn’t know what I was looking at.

“All of my girls get my brand. I was going to wait and see how well you worked out, but I don’t need to see no more. You’re a natural born whore, you’re every move is practically begging for sex. So let’s just get this out of the way.”

Oh my gosh. It’s a tattoo gun. He’s going to tattoo me???

Panic started to set in and he saw it.

“Calm down, now, and listen.”

“You don’t have to do this. No one is forcing you. Say the word, and I’ll drive you to your car right now and you can be on your way, back in your house addicted to porn all over again. Or…”

I waited, clinging on his every word like oxygen.

“Or you can take my mark, and I’ll own you. From now on you’ll be my free-use pussy boi, on call to fuck you anytime I want. You will serve me, service me, and in return, I’m going to rape you. Over and over again, fucking you into the dirt until you fully understand your rightful place, and you will love every last second of it. Forever, until you’re dead.”

“But you have to ask for it. You have to say the words, I can’t force you.”

Fuuuuck.

This was serious. Rape me? Forever? Till I’m dead??? This wasn’t some sexy, dangerous game anymore. He wanted to put his mark on me like his property.

I pretended to weigh the choice in my head, but I knew there wasn’t one. I already made up my mind before he even finished speaking.

“I want it.”

“You want what?”

“I want you to put your brand on me, Daddy. I’ll be your play thing. I’ll…” I hesitated. “I’ll be your willing rape victim.” I can’t believe those words just came out of mouth. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

And with that he began. I forgot to even ask where he was going to mark me, or what he was going to imprint on my naked skin.

He grabbed my hair and held my head back with enough power to know better than to struggle, and he took out some alcohol pads and started cleaning the side of my neck just a few inches under my right ear.

He got his things set up and started in on me. I’ve never had a tattoo before this, and I wasn’t ready for it. It hurt so bad, but I just held onto his legs with both arms and let him mark me for life.

In only a few minutes he was done. I couldn’t believe it was that fast. I felt a little hope rise up, like maybe it’s not so bad after all. Maybe it’s small enough no one can see it. After all, how bad can it be when he finished with it so fast?

“Come take a look at my work, sweetness.” He took my hand and pulled me up, helping me walk over to the mirror. I looked at myself and I looked a sight, like a freshly fucked whore on pay day. My waist had his hand prints burned into my skin, every finger print bright red, and even some purple starting to show from where he was grabbing me so hard.

He pulled back my hair and tucked it behind my ear, the gentlest touch he’d given me so far in two days. Then he turned my head and showed me.

Right there on my neck, burning bright red around the fresh black ink, for all the world to see, was a black spade tattoo the size of a quarter. Inside it had three small initials. Daddy’s initials.

He just tattooed his initials on my neck, and I didn’t even know what his real name was. To me he was only Daddy. I let him permanently brand me with a symbol that is unmistakable to anyone who knows.

My new black Daddy leaned down, gave me a little kiss on my cheek, and said, “Now your training begins.”

It was only Saturday. Monday was looking like it would never come.

---

Hope you all enjoy! That was over 12 years ago, and that Daddy still fucks me on a regular basis. I have three tattoos now.

I had taken a new colleague with me on this work trip which is standard for my firm. Basically we pair the new lawyer with an experienced lawyer to shadow during the drafting, review, and negotiation of business contracts. We spent a week getting to know each over and I showed him how we navigate complex deal terms, managing client expectations, and applying strategic negotiation tactics to secure favorable agreements. Basically on-the-job training.

Over the years, I’ve mentored junior associates like this fairly often, though I often feel guilty because my firm is pretty frugal with expenses. My trip was billable, and I always fly business class or above because the client is paying. Years ago someone had the brilliant idea of building into our contracts that if you want one of the team to attend to your office, they need to be able to work and hit the ground running so its gotta business or first class tickets.

I’ve been flying around the globe like this for the better part of 25 years now, so I have gazillion miler platinum gold upper class bougie as fuck frequent flyer status which gets me access into the elegant First Class Lounges and I can bring a guest.

Anyway, my junior colleague was stuck in coach and not having the best time, so being able to join me in the luxurious lounge gave him a much-needed lift.

We finished the week of work and had quite a late evening flight which meant that when we checked out of the hotel at noon, we would probably have a good 5 hours to kill in the lounge. Not the worst thing and because it was a 12 hour overnight flight, and the beauty is that we could have a nice meal in the Lounge and then make the bed on board the plane and sleep the whole way home. Well, I could, my travel buddy was in coach so he wasn’t sleeping.

I’ve been in this lounge a lot over the years and even though it’s one of the larger airlines, there is always an air of exclusivity to it and it’s almost always empty, so very relaxing.

My colleague and I were sitting at one of the tables enjoying a nice bottle of wine and dinner when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eyes.

I turned to see what it was and this very sexy and muscular Asian guy with an amazing smile. He was walking and talking on his phone but I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so fucking sexy, and when he passed by I got to see his butt, and I started to feel a little twitching down below.

When he walked, one ass cheek would kinda flip up, and then the other, back and forth, up and down in these tight jeans that accentuated everything just the right way.

He took a table across the room from us and I tried not to be too obvious but would casually glance over every now and then.

At one point, I got up to go to the bar and hadn’t noticed him returning from the toilets, but as we passed, I looked right into his eyes and gave a little wink and a smile.

He responded with a little jerk of his head and a smile crept across his cute little face.

It’s full on cruising at this point because as we passed each other, it was the old 1-step, 2-steps, 3-steps and turn around, and voila, just as I looked back, he turned around and gave a huge smile.

Like I say, we had 5 hours to kill and I was feeling a little buzzed from the wine, but there were a series of little interactions like this between him and I. A little flirt, a cute smile, checking each other’s assets when at the bar, and on it went.

Probably about an hour left into the Lounge, I got up to take a piss in the toilets.

I didn’t see him around, but the Lounge was actually quite big and because there were so few people, it was easy to be somewhere and just not be seen.

Anyway, I get to the toilet and whip my dick out which has been semi-hard with all the flirting.

Just as the stream of piss starts to splash against the urinal wall, I hear the door open and in walks the cute Asian.

He walks right up to the urinal beside mine and wasn’t even bashful about getting a good look at what was about to be my fully erect curved 8.5” dick.

He kind of had his mouth open and licking his lips. He flicked his eye brows up and looked me straight in the eye as the stream of piss slowed down and came to a stop.

I was fully hard by this time so gave it a few good strokes to pump out any remaining piss. A few spurts came splattering out and as I was about to stuff it way, this little cutie reaches out and clamps his hand around it.

I let him have at it. I put both hands on the wall in front of me and he moved in closer to get both hands around it and pump the shaft.

I produce a lot of pre-cum so as he is doing this, it is dripping out and he is getting very turned on.

Suddenly he lets go of my dick and grabs me by the waist pushing me toward one of the stalls.

He goes in first and spins around to face me while I get into the stall and close the door.

My dick is still dangling out of my jeans with a little rope of pre-cum hanging down.

He comes forward, plants a kiss on my lips and then slowly drops to his knees.

This sexy man was a talented little cock sucker I have to say. He was getting down to my balls with no trouble although I couldn’t resist, at one point, I held his head down until he practically threw up.

He was getting me close to blasting my nutt and I think he could sense it because he got up, turned around and dropped his jeans.

Pretty clear what was about to happen so I gobbed a bunch more spit onto my already dripping cock and smeared his hole.

He was a horny little pig. As I was teasing his pucker a little he impaled himself on it and grunted quite loudly.

I don’t think anyone else was in the bathroom but if they had been, they would have thought they were listening to the sounds of fucking at a bathhouse.

He had gotten me really close so I didn’t breed him for very long. 5 minutes of making him moan and then I shot a huge load into his guts.

When I pulled out a puddle of my jizz plopped out onto the floor and he just stood up, pulled up his jeans and gave a cute little smile.

I wiped up my dick, stuffed it away and he was already gone out of the toilet by the time I had finished drying my hands.

I re-joined my colleague who wanted to know where I had gone.

“Just went for a little wander, but shall we get going time to board?”

Never saw the Asian pig again, but between the wine and the orgasm, I slept like a baby on the plane home.

---

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As Lysander descended the winding path, Athens woke around him. Market smells — fish, cumin, hot olive oil — couldn’t mask Demetrios’ cedar scent lingering on his skin. At the fountain near the agora, old Eurydice eyed his limp. “Fell hard during drills, boy?” she cackled, offering a ripe fig.

Lysander accepted it, the sweetness bursting on his tongue like Demetrios’ kiss. He lied smoothly: “Slipped on quarry moss.” Her knowing smirk followed him down the street.

At the palaestra, Demetrios awaited, blindfolds coiled like snakes in his palm. Noon sun scorched the packed earth. Lysander’s every step echoed yesterday’s fierce rhythm against the quarry wall — hips sore, muscles humming with memory. Demetrios tossed him the rough-woven cloth.

“Trust the pull of muscle, the hitch of breath,” he commanded. “Not sight.”

Blindfolded, the palaestra roared differently. Shouts echoed off stone, disembodied. Sweat evaporated as Lysander circled, feet shifting over grit. Demetrios attacked first – a sudden rush of heat and motion. Lysander ducked instinctively, Demetrios’ forearm grazing his ribs where a bruise already purpled from quarry stone. The contact sparked memory: skin slick with moss, thrusts deep and claiming. Lysander gasped, staggered by sensation – raw hip aching, ass still tender. Demetrios chuckled low, his breath puffing against Lysander’s neck. “Distracted?”

Lysander lunged blindly toward the sound. They collided, Demetrios’ hands locking onto his wrists, thumbs digging into tendons. Calluses scraped skin already sensitized. A shiver ran through Lysander’s core, tightening his stomach. He felt Demetrios shift – a lean forward, chest brushing Lysander’s. The scents mingled: cedar oil, sunbaked dust, the faint musk of their quarry coupling clinging beneath sweat. Lysander twisted, driving a knee upward. Demetrios blocked it smoothly, thigh pressing hard against Lysander’s groin. Pressure bloomed – half-pain, half-pleasure – stealing his breath.

“Focus,” Demetrios growled. His grip shifted, fingers sliding down Lysander’s forearms to grip his biceps. He spun Lysander sharply. Lysander stumbled back, shoulder blades hitting Demetrios’ chest. The solid wall of muscle pinned him. Demetrios’ lips brushed his ear. “Feel where I hold you?” His calloused palms slid up Lysander’s ribs, thumbs grazing the sensitive undersides of his pectorals. Lysander froze. Every nerve screamed – the rasp of thumbs circling his nipples, Demetrios’ hips grinding against his aching ass. “Or are you still back at the pool?”

Lysander twisted violently, breaking free. He dropped low, sweeping a leg where he knew Demetrios’ ankles would be planted. His shin connected solidly. Demetrios grunted, stumbling sideways. Lysander surged after him, grappling blindly for leverage. His fingers found purchase on Demetrios’ hipbone – the familiar ridge where Sparta’s dagger had left its crescent scar. He hauled Demetrios closer, locking an arm around his waist. Their sweat-slick chests slammed together. The impact shuddered through Lysander’s bruised hips. He hissed.

Demetrios’ answering chuckle vibrated against him. “Still tender?” His breath ghosted Lysander’s jawline. Calloused hands slid down Lysander’s spine, fingers digging into the sore muscles flanking his tailbone. Lysander gasped as Demetrios kneaded the bruised flesh where he’d been pinned against quarry stone. Pleasure and pain tangled, sparking heat low in his belly. His cock stirred against Demetrios’ thigh. Demetrios shifted, grinding his own hardening erection into Lysander’s hip. Blindfolded, the intensity amplified – every scrape of callus, every hitch of breath, the humid puff of air against his neck. Lysander drove a knee up, aiming for Demetrios’ ribs.

Demetrios trapped his leg effortlessly, thigh locking Lysander’s limb against his own hip. He leveraged his weight, twisting Lysander sideways. Blindfolded, Lysander fought for balance, fingers scrabbling over Demetrios’ sweat-slick shoulder blade. Demetrios hooked a foot behind Lysander’s ankle and swept. Lysander hit the packed earth hard, dust choking his gasp. Before he could roll, Demetrios straddled his chest, knees bracketing Lysander’s ribs. The position vibrated with the quarry’s memory – Demetrios’ weight pinning him, hips caging him. Demetrios leaned down, the blindfold scratchy against Lysander’s forehead as he rasped, “Yield?” His thumb traced Lysander’s lower lip, slick with sweat and dust.

Lysander bucked. Demetrios slammed a palm against his sternum, driving the air from his lungs. Pain flared through Lysander’s bruised hip where it struck the ground. He hissed, arching into the pressure. Demetrios’ breath warmed his throat.

“Yield,” Demetrios commanded again, softer now. His thumb dipped lower, brushing the frantic pulse at Lysander’s neck. Lysander felt Demetrios’ hips shift, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against Lysander’s ribcage through thin linen. The intimate pressure echoed the quarry’s claiming – deliberate, undeniable.

Lysander’s fingers clawed uselessly at Demetrios’ sweat-slicked thighs bracketing him. “Never,” he gasped, bucking again. Dust puffed around them as Demetrios ground down, the friction igniting Lysander’s own arousal.

Demetrios chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through Lysander’s sternum. His blindfold slipped askew; one hazel eye flashed gold in the harsh noon light, fierce and possessive.

“Never?” Demetrios tightened his thighs around Lysander’s ribs, restricting his breath. His thumb traced Lysander’s collarbone, calluses scraping over sweat-slicked skin. The scent of cedar oil intensified as Demetrios leaned closer, his erection pressing harder against Lysander’s sternum. “Then suffer.”

He shifted his weight abruptly, pinning Lysander’s wrists above his head with one hand. Lysander gasped — half-struggle, half-invitation — as Demetrios’ other hand slid down his flank, fingers dipping beneath the linen waistband. Dust coated Lysander’s lips as Demetrios’ thumb brushed the sensitive skin below his navel. Blindfolded, every touch burned brighter: the drag of knuckles over ribs still aching from quarry stone, the press of Demetrios’ knee between his thighs forcing them wider. Lysander arched, a raw groan escaping him when Demetrios’ fingers found the damp heat trapped beneath fabric.

His fingers slid lower, rough pads tracing the wiry hair thickening at the base of Lysander’s cock. Lysander bucked, choking on dust. Demetrios chuckled darkly, palm cupping the hard length pressed against his thigh. He squeezed once, deliberately slow, thumb circling the flushed head smearing pre-cum through linen. Lysander cried out, hips jerking into the friction.

“Still sensitive?” Demetrios murmured against his throat, breath scalding. His fingers abandoned Lysander’s cock, sliding lower still — past trembling inner thighs, over the soft skin behind his balls slick with sweat. Lysander froze. The memory flared: moss-scraped cheeks, the brutal stretch, Demetrios’ groan as he emptied inside him. Lysander shuddered violently. Demetrios’ finger lingered, circling the tender rim, a silent promise echoing the quarry’s invasion. “Yield now,” he whispered, “or I open you here. On Athenian sand.” His finger pressed harder, breaching the tight furl just enough to steal Lysander’s breath.

Lysander arched, a choked gasp tearing free. Demetrios withdrew the finger slowly, deliberately smearing wetness over Lysander’s perineum. His hips shifted, grinding his rigid cock against Lysander’s hipbone through sweat-soaked linen. The friction sparked fire along raw nerves. “Yield,” Demetrios commanded again, low and relentless. His thumb brushed Lysander’s swollen lower lip, tasting of dust and salt.

“Aye,” Lysander rasped, breath ragged. “I yield.” The word felt like surrender and victory fused together.

Demetrios released his wrists instantly, rolling off him. He tore Lysander’s blindfold away. The sudden glare of the palaestra sun blinded him for a heartbeat. When his vision cleared, Demetrios was standing, sweat-streaked and formidable, hand extended. Lysander grasped it, letting Demetrios haul him upright. Every muscle screamed – his bruised hip, his aching shoulders, the deep tenderness low in his belly where Demetrios had claimed him hours before. Dust clung to their damp skin.

“You fought well,” Demetrios said, his voice rough-edged but approving. He brushed grit from Lysander’s shoulder with a palm already raw from the grapple. Lysander hissed at the scrape over tender flesh. Demetrios’ gaze lingered on the fading bruise blooming along Lysander’s flank – quarry stone’s souvenir. “Too well,” he added, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. “That sweep nearly took my legs.” He bent, retrieving their discarded blindfolds, coiled them swiftly. “Come. My chambers. You need salve and wine before this stiffness sets like mortar.”

They walked in silence through Athens’ waking streets, shoulders nearly touching. Market cries wove around them – salted fish, cumin, hot oil – but Lysander breathed only cedar oil and Demetrios’ sweat-dried skin. At Demetrios’ door, a faded blue lintel chipped at the corner, he shoved the heavy cedar wood open without ceremony. Inside, shadows clung thickly, smelling of old leather, dried herbs, and the metallic tang of athlete’s oil. Dust motes danced in a single shaft of sunlight slicing through a high window.

Demetrios gestured to a low cot draped with worn wool. “Sit.” He rummaged in a clay amphora, pulling out a smaller jar of pungent salve – rosemary and pine resin sharp on the humid air. He knelt before Lysander, fingers dipping into the cool ointment. Lysander hissed as Demetrios’ calloused hands found the deep bruise purpling his hipbone, pressing firmly. The pressure was a counterpoint to the quarry’s remembered agony and ecstasy. Demetrios’ thumb circled slowly, working the salve deep into the battered muscle, his touch methodical yet intimate. Lysander watched his bent head, the damp curls at his nape, the corded strength in his forearm flexing with each stroke.

The scrape of linen against Lysander’s stretched skin was forgotten under Demetrios’ purposeful kneading. He traced the bruise’s edge, fingers sliding lower, grazing the sensitive skin of Lysander’s inner thigh – a deliberate echo of earlier possession. Lysander’s breath hitched.

“Still tight?” Demetrios asked without looking up, thumb pressing into the sore muscle where thigh met hip. The intimacy of his touch – clinical yet charged – stole Lysander’s voice. He nodded, gaze fixed on the sweat-damp curls clinging to Demetrios’ neck.

Demetrios scooped more salve, its sharp pine scent cutting through the room’s leathery musk. His fingers slid lower, tracing the tender crease where Lysander’s leg joined his body. A shudder ripped through Lysander as calloused fingertips brushed the swollen rim left raw from the quarry. Demetrios paused, thumb resting against the heated skin. “Olympus wept, Lysander,” he murmured, voice thick. “I marked you deeper than Sparta’s blade.”

He pressed the salve gently into the abused flesh, a cool balm against the phantom burn of intrusion. Lysander gasped, hips jerking forward instinctively. Demetrios held him steady with a palm flat on his stomach. “Easy,” he breathed, working the ointment in slow circles. Each touch was a rekindled echo — water sloshing, stone scraping his cheek, Demetrios filling him to bursting.

Lysander’s cock stirred, heavy against his thigh. Demetrios’ gaze flicked upward, hazel eyes darkened to near black. “Does it pain you?” His thumb pressed deeper, circling the sensitive pucker. Pleasure-pain lanced through Lysander’s groin.

“Only when you stop,” Lysander breathed. Demetrios’ answering smile was feral. He dipped his fingers back into the salve jar, scooping a thick glob. With deliberate slowness, he slid his slicked thumb over Lysander’s entrance, pressing inward. The breach was cool, medicinal — yet Lysander arched off the cot, knuckles white on the wool. Demetrios worked the salve inside with shallow thrusts, each stroke easing the quarry’s brutal memory into a throbbing warmth.

He withdrew abruptly, wiping his hand on his thigh. Standing, he towered over Lysander, sweat and pine resin sharp in the dim light. “Salve’s done its work.” His voice roughened, gaze dropping to Lysander’s half-hard cock. “Now strip. All of it.”

Lysander obeyed slowly, linen pooling around his hips. Demetrios watched, eyes tracing every exposed bruise and scrape as if mapping battle lines. When Lysander stood naked before him, Demetrios stepped close, fingers grazing Lysander’s chest. “Yesterday,” he murmured, thumb brushing a nipple, “I filled you. Felt your heat tighten around me.” His palm slid down Lysander’s flank, settling low on his belly. “Now I want that heat inside me. Your cock. Your pace. Let me feel what you felt against that quarry wall.”

Demetrios turned abruptly, facing the cot, and bent forward, hands braced against the wool-draped surface, muscles flexing across his broad back. The old Spartan dagger scar gleamed silver in the shafted light. “Do it,” he commanded, voice thick. “Take me.”

Lysander moved behind him, calloused palms sliding over Demetrios’ sweat-slicked flanks. His fingers traced the familiar ridge of hipbone, dipped into the crease beneath taut buttocks. He pressed forward, groin flush against Demetrios’ ass, his hardening cock nestling between clenched cheeks. Demetrios shuddered, pushing back instinctively. Lysander bent, beard scraping Demetrios’ shoulder blade as he reached past him, scooping a thick dollop of salve from the jar. The pine resin scent spiked sharply. He slicked himself slowly, fist pumping his cock until it stood rigid, gleaming with ointment.

Demetrios groaned, low and ragged, when Lysander’s slicked fingers found his entrance — probing, circling the tight pucker with deliberate pressure.

Lysander leaned over him, chest pressed to Demetrios’ sweat-slicked back, beard scraping his spine. He worked one finger inside, slow and deep, feeling the clenching heat yield around his knuckle. Demetrios shuddered, hips jerking backward, driving himself deeper onto Lysander’s hand. “More,” he gritted out, voice thick with want. Lysander added a second finger, twisting and stretching, scissoring him open until Demetrios gasped, forehead pressed hard against the wool-draped cot. The scent of pine resin mingled with the salt-tang of sweat as Lysander’s fingers slid in deeper, curling, seeking the tender spot inside that made Demetrios’ thighs tremble.

When his fingertips brushed it, Demetrios cried out — a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the clay walls. Lysander withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving Demetrios clenching around emptiness. He pressed the broad, slicked head of his cock against the loosened entrance, grinding deliberately against the sensitive rim. Demetrios pushed back, impatience vibrating through his tensed muscles. “Now, damn you!”

Lysander drove forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Demetrios roared, knuckles whitening against the wool as he took the full invasion, the stretch a white-hot agony-pleasure that stole his breath. Lysander held deep, unmoving, savoring the clench of muscle around his cock — impossibly tight, furnace-hot, slick with salve yet resisting him.

Demetrios shuddered beneath him, sweat dripping down the valley of his spine. “Move,” he choked out, hips straining backward. Lysander obeyed, pulling back until only the swollen crown remained lodged inside, then slammed forward again, hips crashing against Demetrios’ asscheeks with a wet smack. The rhythm seized them — retreat, thrust, retreat, thrust — each drive deeper, harder, Demetrios’ groans deepening to ragged growls. Salve dripped down Lysander’s balls, slicking their thighs.

The tight heat was suffocating, clenching around Lysander’s cock with involuntary pulses as he hammered into Demetrios’ core. He gripped his lover’s hips, fingers digging into the dense muscle, thumbs pressing into the dimples above his ass. Demetrios’ knuckles tore at the wool beneath him, his back arched, head thrown back as Lysander angled upward, grinding against that hidden bundle of nerves. A guttural cry tore from Demetrios’ throat. “There! Gods, Lysander, there!” His hips jerked wildly, driving back onto Lysander’s cock, taking him deeper still.

Sweat streamed down Lysander’s temples, stinging his eyes. The smell of pine resin mixed with the musk of straining bodies — cedar oil, salt, the earthy scent of Demetrios’ skin. Lysander leaned forward, pressing his chest flush against Demetrios’ slick back, beard scraping the scarred shoulder blade. “Fuck yourself on me,” he rasped into Demetrios’ ear, biting the lobe. “Use my cock.” Demetrios obeyed, rocking backward with desperate, grinding thrusts, each motion forcing Lysander deeper, stretching him impossibly wide. Lysander’s fingers slid around Demetrios’ waist, finding his swollen cock straining downward. He fisted it, pumping in rough counterpoint to his own thrusts.

Salve dripped from their thighs. Demetrios groaned with each withdrawal, the drag of Lysander’s cockhead scraping his inner walls, sensitive and raw. Then came the brutal plunge — Lysander driving upward, hips slamming against Demetrios’ asscheeks with wet, rhythmic smacks. Demetrios shuddered, spine arching violently. “Harder!” he snarled, his knuckles tearing holes in the wool cot cover. Lysander obliged, abandoning finesse, pistoning into that clenching heat with savage, jackhammer thrusts. Each penetration jarred Demetrios forward, his slickened cock scraping harsh linen. Lysander’s grip tightened, thumb circling the weeping slit, smearing pre-cum over the swollen head as he fucked Demetrios like a weapon.

Demetrios’ thighs trembled. He braced one foot wide on the packed-earth floor, grinding back onto Lysander’s cock — deep, deeper, seeking that blinding friction against his prostate. Lysander shifted his angle, spearing upward. Demetrios screamed, the sound ripped from his gut. Lysander hammered that spot relentlessly, balls slapping wet skin. He watched Demetrios’ cock pulse in his fist — thick veins straining, foreskin taut — and twisted his wrist on the upstroke, scraping calluses over the frenulum. Demetrios bucked, incoherent curses spilling from his lips. Sweat stung Lysander’s eyes as he leaned close. Salty skin filled his mouth. “Come,” Lysander rasped against his neck, teeth digging in. “Spill for me. Now.”

Demetrios shuddered violently. His hips snapped back, impaling himself fully as he roared — a raw, animal sound that shook the clay walls. Thick ropes of sperm splattered the wool beneath them, pearlescent against faded dye. Lysander felt Demetrios clench around him, rhythmic spasms milking his cock. He kept thrusting, slower now, deep rolls of his hips prolonging the pulses until Demetrios sagged, trembling. The air reeked of pine resin and spent seed.

Lysander withdrew slowly, slick sliding from Demetrios’ loosened entrance. He guided Demetrios down onto the cot’s damp wool, kneeling behind him. Callused fingers traced the raised ridge of Sparta’s scar — silver against sweat-sheened skin. Salve glistened where Lysander’s cock had stretched him. Demetrios groaned, pushing his hips back into Lysander’s touch.

“Enough,” Demetrios rasped, rolling onto his back. His thighs fell open — an invitation scored with bruising fingerprints. Lysander straddled him, the rough wool scraping their thighs. He bent, claiming Demetrios’ mouth — salt, pine, the iron tang of bitten lips. Demetrios arched upward, grinding their hardened lengths together in a slow, slick slide. Heat gathered low in Lysander’s belly, sharpening with every drag of skin on skin.

Demetrios wrapped a hand around both cocks, calluses scraping. He squeezed, thumb circling weeping heads. Lysander gasped into Demetrios’ mouth, hips thrusting helplessly. The rhythm stuttered — frantic, uncontrolled. Sweat rolled between them, oiling the glide. Lysander felt it building: a coil tightening behind his balls, Demetrios’ thumb pressing the frenulum, the rough pump of fist against straining shaft. “Look at me,” Demetrios commanded, voice wrecked. Lysander obeyed, meeting hazel eyes gone black with need.

The climax ripped through Lysander without warning. A strangled cry tore from his throat as his spine arched violently. Thick ropes of sperm splattered Demetrios’ sternum — pearlescent against sweat-slicked muscle. More pulsed out, streaking his lower abdomen, pooling hot and sticky in the coarse hair above his groin. Lysander shuddered, hips jerking through each pulse as Demetrios milked him dry, thumb rubbing seed into his skin like sacred oil.

They collapsed, tangled and slick — Lysander half-sprawled across Demetrios’ chest, legs intertwined. Salve, sweat, and drying cum glued their bodies together. Dust motes swirled in the single shaft of light above them. Demetrios’ breath rasped against Lysander’s temple, his arms locking around him in crushing possessiveness.

Exhaustion hit them like a sandbag dropped from the Acropolis. Muscles trembled, breaths rasped ragged, flesh throbbing against flesh. They settled deeper into the wool’s scratchy embrace, limbs tangled — Lysander’s knee hooked over Demetrios’ hip, Demetrios’ forearm an iron band across Lysander’s back. Drying semen glued their skin where chest met chest, belly met thigh. The room breathed: leather, herbs, the metallic ghost of athlete’s oil, and beneath it all, the fertile tang of sex.

“Stay,” Demetrios murmured into the sweat-damp hollow of Lysander’s throat. A plea, rough and unguarded. Not the Olympian’s command, but the boy from the Athenian alleys, suddenly laid bare. His fingers flexed against Lysander’s spine, pressing him closer still. “Please.”

Lysander felt the tremor run through Demetrios’ chest — rare vulnerability beneath the stone-carved muscle. He nodded, unable to speak, his own limbs leaden weights. His cheek pressed against the cooling sweat on Demetrios’ collarbone, inhaling the layered scent: sharp pine resin, fading cedar oil, and the fertile musk of their bodies spent. It was a baptism. An anchor. He breathed it deep.

Outside, Athens stirred — distant cries of fishmongers, the clatter of a donkey cart, the rhythmic clang of a bronze-smith’s hammer. None of it pierced the thick stillness settling over Demetrios’ chamber. Lysander felt Demetrios’ heartbeat beneath his ear, a slow, heavy drum against the fragile cage of his ribs. Each beat echoed the pulse still throbbing low in Lysander’s own belly. Demetrios’ plea hung between them, raw as a fresh wound. Stay.

Lysander twisted his fingers in the coarse hair dusting Demetrios’ chest, sticky with drying seed. He pressed closer, inhaling the fading scent of pine salve and sweat, the deeper musk of exhaustion and contentment. Demetrios’ arm tightened, a wordless confirmation. Soon, the Olympic Games in Corinth loomed. Now, tangled in wool and sweat and spent desire, they were simply two lovers holding the world at bay.

They slept.

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

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Eli scraped dried cement from beneath his fingernails with a pocketknife. He worked construction downtown, and the grit never seemed to leave him, even after scrubbing. His forearms bore old scars from rebar accidents, thick and white against tanned skin. Across the cramped locker room, he shrugged off his stained work shirt, the fabric stiff with sweat.

The communal showers were already steaming when Eli walked in, naked. Five other men stood beneath the spray — all regulars from the free weights area, muscles pumped from heavy squats and deadlifts. Water sluiced over thick shoulders and ridged backs.

Marco, a firefighter with ink spiraling down his spine, laughed loudly at something Vince, a competitive powerlifter, muttered while soaping his chest. Vince’s cock, half-hard and thick, bounced slightly as he chuckled. Marco nudged him with a wet elbow. “Looks like someone enjoyed leg day too much, big guy.” Vince just grinned, unashamed, letting the water run down his abdomen.

Steam thickened the air as Eli stepped under a free showerhead. The heat loosened his tight shoulders instantly. Beside him, Rick, a quiet rugby player, was slicking shampoo through his buzzcut. When Rick turned to rinse, Eli caught the unmistakable swell of Rick’s erection—full and heavy against his thigh.

Rick met Eli’s gaze briefly, a flush creeping up his neck. Across the aisle, Darren whistled low, nodding toward Rick. “That makes two of us,” he called out, palming his own thickening length openly. The scent of cheap soap mixed with damp skin and the musk of exertion.

Vince chuckled, stepping sideways to let Marco rinse off beside him. His hand drifted casually to Rick’s waist, fingers tracing the ridge of a hip bone. “Hell, why stop at two?” Marco’s tattooed forearm slid around Vince’s shoulders, pulling him closer as water sheeted down their chests. Vince groaned softly when Marco’s other hand grazed the swell of his cockhead—already glistening and ruddy.

Eli watched Darren cradle himself, thick fingers working slowly from root to tip. The sight sent a jolt straight to Eli’s groin. His own cock stirred, lifting from his thigh as steam curled between them.

Rick’s breath hitched when Darren reached over, calloused palm brushing Rick’s erection. “Easy there,” Darren murmured, thumb circling the crown. Rick leaned into the touch, hips pushing forward involuntarily.

Vince’s groan deepened as Marco’s grip tightened, fingers wrapping around his shaft. Steam clung to their skin as Marco pumped him slowly, water dripping from their joined bodies onto the wet tile floor. Vince bucked into Marco’s fist, his head thrown back against the spray. “Fuck, your hands —” he gasped, voice thick.

Beside them, Darren’s teasing thumb drew a shudder from Rick, who gripped the slick shower wall for balance. Rick’s knuckles whitened as Darren sank to his knees, tongue tracing the flushed head of Rick’s erection before swallowing him whole. The wet slide echoed in the humid air, Rick’s choked moan mingling with the drumming water.

Eli watched, transfixed, his own cock fully hard now, aching. The scent of sex bloomed, salt and musk cutting through soap as Darren sucked harder, Rick’s thigh muscles trembling under his palms.

Across the spray, Marco dropped gracefully to his knees, his mouth hot on Vince’s cock. Vince gasped, fingers tangling in Marco’s wet hair, hips jerking as Marco swallowed him deep. Steam curled around Vince’s thrusts, his breath ragged. “God, yes — just like that,” Vince groaned, water streaming down his straining back.

Darren’s rhythm intensified, Rick’s hips stuttering against his throat. Rick’s fingers clawed at the tiles, a low whine escaping him as Darren dragged his tongue firmly along the underside.

Eli watched Darren’s thick shoulders flex with each bob of his head, the slick sounds blending with Rick’s choked gasps and the drumming water. Eli’s hand drifted to his own cock, fingers wrapping around the heated steel of it.

Vince bucked into Marco’s mouth, eyes locked on Eli across the aisle. “Get over here,” Vince growled, voice rough with need. When Eli hesitated, Vince reached out, water-slick fingers curling around Eli’s wrist and tugging him into the spray.

Steam kissed Eli’s skin as Vince pressed their bodies together — chest to chest, hips grinding. Eli groaned at the friction, his cock sliding against Vince’s thigh. Marco’s mouth left Vince’s shaft for a moment, his tongue tracing a wet path up Eli’s inner thigh until he found Eli’s aching head. Eli jerked, his breath catching as Marco’s lips closed over him.

Across from them, Rick cried out sharply. Darren had him pinned to the tiled wall, Rick’s thick thighs hooked over Darren’s shoulders as Darren drove into him. The slap of wet skin echoed in the humid air, Rick’s fingers scrabbling at Darren’s slick shoulders. “Harder —” Rick choked out, his spine arching as Darren thrust deeper.

Vince’s fingers tightened in Eli’s hair, pulling him down beside Marco. Eli’s knees hit the wet tile as Marco’s mouth slid off Vince’s cock. Steam coiled around them as Marco gripped Eli’s jaw, guiding him toward Vince’s swollen purple head. The salty taste flooded Eli’s mouth as he took Vince in, thick and pulsing against his tongue. Above him, Vince groaned, his hips jerking forward. “Jesus, Eli, suck me dry,” he rasped, one hand fisted in Eli’s hair while the other pressed Marco’s head back onto Eli’s own straining erection.

Rick’s cries sharpened, echoing off the tiles. Darren had him pinned high against the wall, thighs spread wide as Darren hammered into him. Each thrust drove Rick’s shoulder blades into the tile, his cock bouncing untouched and leaking. Darren’s breath came in ragged bursts against Rick’s neck, sweat mixing with the spray as Rick clawed at Darren’s back. “Fill me — god, Darren, now!” Rick begged, his voice cracking as Darren slammed deeper.

Eli’s jaw stretched wider around Vince’s girth. He hollowed his cheeks, tongue swirling beneath the swollen ridge where precum pooled. Vince’s taste — salt and iron — flooded Eli’s senses. Above him, Vince’s hips snapped forward, forcing Eli to swallow his thrusts. Marco’s mouth worked Eli’s cock with insistent rhythm, fingers massaging Eli’s balls as steam slicked their skin. Eli moaned around Vince’s shaft, the vibration drawing a guttural curse from Vince.

Darren’s grunts sharpened. He’d hooked Rick’s legs higher, driving deeper with each plunge. Rick’s head thrashed against the tile, muscles corded as Darren’s pelvis slapped against his ass. “Full — so full,” Rick gasped, his cock bouncing untouched and flushed crimson. The sharp slap of sweat-slicked skin echoed as Darren pistoned into him, fingers digging bruises into Rick’s hips.

Vince’s fingers tightened in Eli’s hair, thrusting faster into Eli’s throat. Eli gagged, tears mixing with spray as Vince’s cockhead hit the back of his palate. Marco’s mouth released Eli’s shaft — a wet pop — only to lick a stripe up Eli’s perineum. Eli shuddered violently, his own hips bucking into Marco’s slick palm. “Close,” Marco murmured against Eli’s thigh, fingers circling Eli’s rim with teasing pressure.

Darren’s rhythm turned desperate, his balls slapping against Rick’s ass as Rick arched like a drawn bowstring. Rick’s scream tore through the steam — hoarse, broken — as Darren drove deep and held. Rick’s cock pulsed ropes of sperm across his own heaving chest, the white streaks washing away instantly under the spray. Darren grunted against Rick’s shoulder, hips jerking erratically as he spilled his seed inside him.

Eli’s throat burned around Vince’s relentless thrusts, the thick shaft battering his gag reflex. Marco’s tongue dragged wet circles around Eli’s hole now, blunt pressure easing inside — slow, deliberate. Eli shuddered, moaning around Vince’s cock as Marco’s fingers joined his tongue, stretching Eli open while water sluiced down his spine. Vince’s hand tightened in Eli’s hair, dragging him impossibly deeper. “Take it,” Vince snarled, hips snapping forward. Eli’s eyes watered, his own neglected cock twitching against Marco’s stubbled cheek.

Rick slumped against the tiles, Darren’s softening cock slipping from him as ropes of semen dripped down his thighs. They breathed heavily, steam clinging to their flushed skin. Rick’s gaze drifted to Eli, still pinned between Vince’s hips and Marco’s mouth, and a slow, exhausted smirk curled his lips.

Darren followed Rick’s stare and chuckled, gripping Rick’s hip possessively. “Not done yet?” he called out, his voice hoarse. Eli could only groan in answer, Vince’s rhythm unrelenting.

Rick pushed away from the wall, his spent body moving with surprising grace. He knelt beside Marco, water beading on his shoulders as he leaned in. His tongue traced the underside of Eli’s aching shaft — hot and wet against sensitive skin — before swallowing him whole.

Eli cried out, Vince’s cock muffling the sound as Rick’s throat tightened around him. The dual sensation ripped through Eli: Vince’s thick length pistoning his mouth, Rick’s suction pulling him toward the edge.

Darren watched, his calloused hand sliding down Rick’s spine to grip his hipbone. Steam blurred the edges of Rick’s flexing shoulder blades as he bobbed eagerly, droplets clinging to Eli’s pubic hair. Rick hummed low, the vibration radiating up Eli’s shaft—a counterpoint to Vince’s ragged groans. Eli’s balls drew tight, heat coiling in his gut as Rick’s tongue swirled beneath his crown.

Vince’s thrusts turned erratic, his thighs trembling against Eli’s temples. “Gonna —” Vince choked out, fingers knotted in Eli’s hair. Marco’s chuckle vibrated against Eli’s perineum, his tongue pressing deeper inside Eli just as Vince’s cock swelled impossibly thicker. Hot blasts of sperm flooded Eli’s throat — salty, bitter — and he swallowed convulsively, throat working around each pulse. Vince shuddered, his release easing into shallow twitches as Eli milked him with his tongue.

Rick moaned around Eli’s shaft, hollowing his cheeks until Eli’s vision blurred. Darren’s grip tightened on Rick’s hip, knuckles white as he watched Rick suck with voracious hunger. Steam condensed on Eli’s lashes as pleasure surged — Rick’s suction, Marco’s tongue fucking him open, Vince’s softening cock still resting heavy on his tongue.

Eli’s balls tightened against Marco’s palm, heat coiling low and urgent. “Rick —” Eli gasped, pulling off Vince’s cock just as Rick dragged his lips up Eli’s length with torturous slowness.

Darren gripped Rick’s hip tighter, pressing him forward. “Swallow him,” Darren ordered, voice rough. Rick obeyed instantly, engulfing Eli again — deep, wet suction pulling Eli’s spine taut. Marco’s tongue pressed deeper inside Eli, circling rhythmically, fingers stretching him open beneath the pounding water.

Eli bucked wildly, the dual assault shattering his control. With a choked cry, he came hard into Rick’s throat, pulse after pulse of sperm flooding Rick’s mouth as Rick swallowed greedily, eyes locked on Eli’s.

Darren chuckled, water dripping from his jaw as he watched Rick’s throat work. Marco pulled back slowly, his tongue sliding wetly from Eli’s hole just as Eli slumped forward onto trembling elbows. The tile was slick beneath his palms, steam thick enough to taste.

Rick released Eli’s softening cock with a wet pop, lips swollen. He swallowed once more, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Damn, Eli,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to Eli’s hipbone. Darren’s hand slid possessively along Rick’s spine, fingers tracing the knobs of vertebrae. Eli gasped, aftershocks still rippling through him as Vince leaned heavily against the wall, chest heaving.

Marco stood slowly, water cascading down his tattooed shoulders. He gripped Eli’s jaw, tilting his face up. Marco’s thumb brushed Eli’s swollen lower lip, slick with Vince’s release. “You taste like him,” Marco murmured, voice rough as gravel. Before Eli could respond, Marco kissed him — deep, claiming — tongue sweeping through Eli’s mouth to taste Vince lingering there. Eli groaned, the raw musk of Marco’s skin flooding his senses as calloused hands pinned his wrists against the tile.

Rick’s chuckle vibrated against Eli’s thigh where he still knelt. “Greedy fucker,” Rick teased Marco, but Marco merely growled into Eli’s mouth, biting his lip hard enough to sting. Eli’s hips jerked forward reflexively, his spent cock twitching against Rick’s lips.

Darren grinned. “Your turn, Eli?” Darren’s voice cut through the steam, rough and playful. Before Eli could process the words, Rick’s strong hands gripped his waist, flipping him effortlessly onto his back on the wet tile. The cold shock of porcelain against his heated skin made Eli gasp — a sound swallowed by Marco’s renewed kiss as he straddled Eli’s chest.

Rick knelt between Eli’s spread thighs, fingers slicking soap down Eli’s inner legs. Eli shuddered at the sudden vulnerability, Marco’s tongue still claiming his mouth while Vince’s spent cock lay heavy against his temple. Rick’s calloused palms slid upward, thumbs pressing Eli’s thighs wider.

“Relax,” Rick murmured, breath hot against Eli’s hipbone. Eli tensed instinctively — but Rick’s lips brushed his entrance, tongue tracing the fluttering rim. The sensation ripped a groan from Eli’s throat.

Marco braced tattooed forearms on either side of Eli’s head, hips pinning Eli’s chest beneath him. Marco’s cock — still thick and flushed — slapped damply onto Eli’s collarbone. “Open,” Marco commanded, thumb hooking Eli’s lower lip. Eli obeyed, moaning wetly as Marco fed him his length. The taste of Marco’s musk mingled with Vince’s lingering bitterness on Eli’s tongue.

Rick’s tongue pressed deeper, circling Eli’s entrance with relentless focus. Steam condensed on the small of Eli’s back as Rick worked him open, each wet lap drawing tremors up Eli’s spine. Eli arched off the tile, gasping around Marco’s cock. Rick’s fingers joined his tongue, one thick digit sinking knuckle-deep. Eli choked back a cry, the stretch burning deliciously. Darren knelt beside Rick, murmuring praise as he palmed Rick’s ass.

Above Eli, Marco thrust deeper into his throat, hips grinding against Eli’s jawline. Eli’s vision blurred with tears and spray, nostrils flaring at Marco’s musk — pine resin and iron-rich sweat. Across the aisle, Vince watched lazily, stroking his own thickening cock. Eli moaned around Marco’s shaft, the vibration earning him a sharp thrust that scraped his palate.

Rick’s tongue probed deeper, relentlessly circling Eli’s clenched rim. Water pooled in the hollow of Eli’s hipbones as Rick added a second finger, knuckles pressing past resistance. Eli shuddered violently, the stretch sharp and insistent. Darren murmured encouragement, fingers tangled in Rick’s wet hair. “Get him ready for me,” Darren growled, his own erection bobbing against Rick’s shoulder.

Marco’s hips pinned Eli to the slick tile as his thick cock battered his throat. Eli gagged, saliva dripping down his chin, nostrils flooded with the bitter tang of Marco’s sweat. Vince chuckled nearby, lazily pumping his shaft as he watched Eli struggle. “Take it deep, builder man,” Vince taunted, fingers tracing Eli’s trembling flank. Eli’s hips bucked helplessly — Rick’s fingers crooked inside him, hitting a spot that sent white heat lancing through his spine.

Rick’s tongue replaced his fingers, lapping hungrily at Eli’s loosened rim. Steam rose in thick curls as Rick pressed deeper, nose buried against Eli’s perineum. Eli cried out around Marco’s girth — a muffled, broken sound — as Rick’s tongue speared inside, hot and insistent. Darren’s calloused hand gripped Rick’s nape, forcing him harder against Eli’s ass.

“Keep him open,” Darren ordered, his own cock dripping onto the wet tile beside Eli’s thigh. Eli felt the smear of precum against his skin, another layer of slickness amid the spray.

Marco’s hips pistoned relentlessly, his balls slapping Eli’s chin with each thrust. Eli gagged, throat convulsing around Marco’s thickness, tears mingling with shower spray as Marco growled, “Swallow it all, fuckhole.” Eli’s hips jerked upward, seeking friction, but Rick pinned him down, tongue still working him open. Vince stepped closer, his shadow falling over Eli’s splayed body. Eli’s eyes rolled back as Vince’s foot nudged his trembling thigh apart wider — a silent claim.

Rick pulled back, lips slick and swollen. “He’s ready,” he rasped, fingers spreading Eli’s glistening rim. Darren’s calloused hand clamped Eli’s hipbone, blunt fingers digging into muscle as he knelt behind Rick. Steam clung to Darren’s heaving chest as he lined his thick, flushed cockhead against Eli’s entrance. Eli tensed, a sharp inhale cut short by Marco’s cock stuffing his mouth as Darren pushed forward. The stretch burned, deep and insistent, making Eli arch off the tiles. Darren paused, grinding the crown against Eli’s prostate, drawing a muffled scream.

“Easy,” Darren growled, leaning over Rick’s shoulder. His fingers tightened on Eli’s hip as he sank deeper, inch by aching inch. Eli writhed, pinned between Marco’s relentless thrusts and Darren’s slow invasion. Every slide of Darren’s cock dragged fire through Eli’s nerves, his own neglected shaft twitching against Rick’s cheek. Above him, Marco snarled approval, hips snapping harder against Eli’s jawline.

The steam thickened as Darren bottomed out, balls flush against Eli’s ass. Darren groaned, a gravelly rumble Eli felt vibrating through his own spine. “Tight — fuck, Eli,” Darren choked out, hips jerking shallowly. Rick traced the straining seam where Darren disappeared inside Eli, fingers slick with condensation. Eli’s sob caught around Marco’s shaft — half-strangled, desperate.

Darren withdrew slowly, the drag agonizing, then slammed home. Eli’s body jolted against the tile, the slap of Darren’s hips echoing off the walls. Marco’s thrusts grew erratic above him, cockhead battering Eli’s throat with each plunge. Eli gagged, tears blurring Vince’s smirk as he watched, idly fondling his own erection. Water sluiced down Eli’s temples, mixing with spit and sweat.

Rick’s tongue traced the seam where Darren buried himself, lapping at Eli’s stretched rim. “Look at him take it,” Rick breathed, pressing a filthy kiss to Darren’s knuckles where they gripped Eli’s hipbone. Darren groaned, hips snapping faster — deep, brutal strokes that forced Eli’s spine to arch. The slap of flesh against flesh drowned out the shower’s drumming, Eli’s choked cries swallowed by Marco’s thick cock.

Vince knelt beside Rick, fingers threading through Eli’s dripping pubic hair. “Forget something?” Vince taunted, thumb brushing Eli’s neglected cock — hard and purple-tipped against the tile. Eli bucked violently, muscles straining against Darren’s iron hold. Vince chuckled, wrapping his scarred knuckles around Eli’s shaft. “Keep fucking him, Darren. Make him feel it.” Vince’s fist pumped in time with Darren’s thrusts, each stroke dragging a muffled sob from Eli’s throat.

Marco’s balls tightened against Eli’s jaw as his thrusts turned jagged, hips snapping forward with brutal precision. Eli’s gag reflex ignited, saliva slicking Marco’s cock as Marco roared, “Take it!” Hot cum flooded Eli’s throat, thick and brine-sharp. Eli swallowed convulsively, nostrils flaring against Marco’s musk-drenched skin. Above him, Marco shuddered, hips grinding Eli’s lips raw as his release pulsed down Eli’s gullet.

Darren’s rhythm never faltered, his thick cock pistoning deeper into Eli’s clenching heat. Each thrust drove Eli’s shoulder blades into the frigid tile, the burn of friction eclipsing all else. Vince’s fist tightened around Eli’s neglected shaft, thumb smearing precum across the swollen head. “Feel that?” Vince rasped, fingers digging bruises into Eli’s thigh. Eli’s hips bucked helplessly — Vince’s grip cruel and perfect — just as Darren hammered against his prostate.

The world dissolved into blinding heat: Darren’s sweat-drenched chest pressing over Eli’s back, the slap of wet skin echoing like gunshots, Vince’s calloused palm wrenching pleasure from Eli’s cock. Eli screamed against Marco’s softening length — a raw, ragged sound swallowed by steam. Rick traced Eli’s trembling lips, smearing Darren’s precum across Eli’s cheekbone. “So fucking pretty wrecked,” Rick murmured, thumb pressing into Eli’s slack mouth.

Darren’s thrusts turned punishing, hips jackhammering into Eli’s ass. Eli felt each savage plunge reverberate through his bones, his prostate screaming under the brutal assault. The tile scraped Eli’s spine raw as Darren hauled him higher, only to slam him down onto each devastating thrust. Eli’s vision fragmented: Vince’s knuckles tightening around his shaft, Marco’s cum cooling on his tongue, Rick’s hot breath against his ear.

Vince’s fist worked Eli’s cock with merciless rhythm, thumb grinding the leaking slit. “Gonna make you spill,” Vince snarled, water sluicing down his corded forearm as he twisted his grip. Eli writhed, pinned between Darren’s pistoning hips and Vince’s punishing strokes. Steam choked Eli’s lungs, every gasp tasting of sex and chlorine as Darren roared above him, balls slapping Eli’s ass cheeks wetly.

“Hold him,” Darren ordered, fingers digging bruises into Eli’s hips. Rick braced Eli’s shoulders against the tile, Marco’s spent cock still resting heavy on Eli’s cheekbone. Darren buried himself to the hilt, grinding against Eli’s prostate until Eli screamed against Rick’s palm. The agony-edged pleasure ripped through Eli—Darren’s thickness splitting him open, Vince’s calloused fist milking him raw.

“Feel it?” Darren snarled, hips snapping forward, forcing Eli’s spine into an impossible arch. Water sluiced down Eli’s trembling belly, pooling where Vince’s thumb circled his cockhead.

Eli choked on a sob — strangled, desperate — as Darren’s thrusts turned brutal. The wet slap of Darren’s balls against Eli’s ass reverberated through the steam, mingling with Rick’s filthy whispers: “Take it, Eli. Take that cock.”

Vince’s fist twisted, knuckles digging into Eli’s shaft. “Come on, builder man,” Vince growled, his free hand pinning Eli’s hip to the tile. “Spill.” Eli’s muscles corded, thighs shaking violently. Darren’s cock dragged fire through Eli’s nerves, each grind against his prostate stealing breath. Eli thrashed, but Rick’s palms clamped his shoulders down, Marco’s spent cock heavy against his cheek. Saliva dripped from Eli’s slack jaw, mixing with Vince’s precum smeared across his pelvis.

The slap of Darren’s hips intensified — wet, urgent — driving Eli higher. Eli’s balls tightened against Vince’s wrist. Steam thickened in his lungs, chlorine and musk choking him. Darren roared above him, hips hammering Eli’s ass.

“Take it all!” Darren snarled, fingers bruising Eli’s pelvis. Eli arched, his spine screaming as Darren slammed deep and held. Hot pulses of Darren’s sperm flooded Eli’s insides, scalding his walls. Eli gasped, shuddering violently as Darren’s cock twitched inside him.

Vince’s fist tightened impossibly on Eli’s shaft. “Now,” Vince commanded, thumb grinding Eli’s weeping slit. Eli bucked wildly, a choked scream tearing from his throat as his own climax ripped through him. Thick ropes of sperm splattered Vince’s knuckles and Eli’s heaving stomach, white streaks mingling with water and sweat.

Eli convulsed, hips jerking uncontrollably against Vince’s relentless grip even as Darren emptied himself inside him. Rick’s laughter rasped in Eli’s ear, breath hot against his temple.

Darren pulled out slowly, his softening cock slick with Eli’s release. Eli gasped, the sudden emptiness a shock to his abused senses. Vince released Eli’s spent shaft — a wet pop in the steam — before rising stiffly. Eli collapsed onto the slick tile, water drumming against his trembling thighs. Darren’s cum seeped down his inner leg, warm and viscous.

Rick knelt beside him, fingers tracing Eli’s hipbone where Darren’s grip had left red marks. “You okay, builder boy?” Rick’s voice was raspy but soft. Eli nodded weakly, lifting a shaking hand to wipe steam and tears from his eyes. Darren chuckled, hauling Eli upright against the tiles.

Eli’s knees buckled, but Darren’s arm looped firmly around his waist. “Easy,” Darren murmured, water sluicing down both their chests. Marco slapped Vince’s shoulder hard enough to echo — a wordless affirmation — as Vince leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

Steam coiled around them like a shared secret. Rick knelt, rinsing soap from Eli’s trembling thigh, his touch lingering. “That was something,” Rick said quietly, meeting Eli’s dazed gaze. Eli nodded, a shaky laugh escaping him. Vince’s hand settled on Eli’s shoulder — calloused, possessive — as Darren kept Eli upright against the tiles. The water’s heat seeped into Eli’s bones, washing away tension but leaving behind something new: a raw, unspoken connection thrumming louder than any post-workout fatigue.

Marco wiped sweat from Vince’s brow with a rough palm, an unexpected tenderness in the gesture. Vince leaned into it, eyes closed. “Been needing that,” Vince murmured, almost too low to hear over the spray.

Darren chuckled, his arm tightening around Eli’s waist. “Who hasn’t?” Darren’s gaze swept the room: Rick’s steadying hand on Eli, Marco’s thumb tracing Vince’s jawline. No teasing now. Just heavy breaths and the shared weight of release hanging thick in the humid air. Eli felt Darren’s heartbeat against his back, a solid rhythm syncing with his own.

Vince pushed away from the wall, water sluicing down his corded chest. He stepped close to Eli, his calloused palm resting on Eli’s nape — a rough anchor. “Didn’t think you could take it like that,” Vince murmured, eyes locked on Eli’s flushed face. “Not bad for a builder man.” The words held no mockery, only a raw appreciation that made Eli’s breath hitch. Darren’s grip shifted, pulling Eli tighter against him, Vince’s hand sliding to Eli’s shoulder. Eli’s trembling eased.

Marco’s laugh rumbled — low, warm — as he nudged Vince’s hip. “Thought you’d be the one wrecked,” Marco teased, fingers brushing Vince’s damp hair.

Vince shrugged, grin lazy. “Surprises.” He didn’t pull his hand from Eli’s shoulder.

Steam thickened, wrapping them in a humid embrace. Eli leaned into Darren’s solid chest, exhaustion softening his muscles. Rick’s fingers traced the faint bruises on Eli’s hip — Darren’s claiming grip — then slid higher to rest possessively against Eli’s ribs. Marco’s knuckles brushed Vince’s jawline, a silent question. Vince nodded once, closing his eyes as Marco’s thumb wiped spray from his temple.

Eli watched Darren’s reflection ripple in a chrome rail — the man’s gaze lingered on Rick’s hand as it mapped Eli’s flank, then lifted to meet Eli’s eyes in the fogged glass. Approval glinted there. Rick’s chuckle vibrated against Eli’s skin. “Still breathing?”

“Yeah,” Eli rasped, throat raw. Vince squeezed Eli’s shoulder, heat radiating through the contact. Darren reached past Eli to clasp Vince’s forearm — a rough grip Vince returned, knuckles whitening. Something wordless passed between them: respect, shared exertion, lust cooled to embers but not extinguished.

Rick pressed closer, warm water sluicing over Eli’s back. “Shower’s drying us out,” Rick joked, his hand smoothing down Eli’s flank to settle possessively on his hipbone, mirroring Darren’s grip. Eli felt pinned between them, Darren’s solid bulk at his back, Rick’s lean strength anchoring his front.

Steam curled thickly as Rick reached for Darren, soap slicking his palm before scrubbing Darren’s chest — an intimate choreography perfected by sweat and exhaustion. Darren’s groan rumbled against Eli’s spine.

“Good?” Rick murmured, fingers lingering on Darren’s nipple.

Darren just grunted, leaning into Rick’s touch, eyes heavy-lidded and satisfied. Eli felt the rumble against his back, Darren’s arm still locked around his waist like a possessive band. Vince hadn’t moved his hand from Eli’s shoulder either, his thumb tracing idle circles through the water streaming down Eli’s skin.

Marco’s chuckle was low as he nudged Vince again, softer this time, and Vince finally opened his eyes, meeting Marco’s gaze with a nod Eli couldn’t decipher. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was thick with shared exertion, their breaths evening out as steam wrapped them.

Rick’s fingers slid beneath Eli’s belly button, palm pressing Eli flush against Darren’s hip. He reached for the soap dispenser blindly, squirting a slick trail down Darren’s thigh. Eli felt Darren tense — a brief, reflexive clench — before relaxing under Rick’s ministrations. Rick’s hand slid back, scrubbing Eli’s flank, then Darren’s. Vince mirrored the motion, soap skimming Marco’s ribs.

 Eli watched Vince’s knuckles brush Marco’s nipple — a fleeting gesture, intimate and unspoken — before Marco caught Vince’s wrist. Vince didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his palm up, letting soap spill into Marco’s calloused hand. Marco nodded once, lathering Eli’s chest with rough tenderness.

Eli leaned back against Darren, exhaustion softening his spine. Darren’s arm tightened — not restraint, but steadiness. Rick rinsed Eli’s shoulder blades, his fingers tracing the water’s path. “Still with us?” Rick murmured against Eli’s ear. Eli nodded, throat raw. Vince’s hand rested warm on Eli’s hipbone where Rick’s had been moments before, thumb smoothing the skin.

Vince chuckled. “Thought you’d tap out.”

Eli swallowed. “Almost did.”

Darren’s chest vibrated with a low laugh against Eli’s back. “Bullshit. You took it like a fucking champ.”

Marco’s soapy hand slid across Eli’s belly, joining Vince’s grip on his hip — a convergence of rough palms anchoring Eli between them. Rick’s fingers traced the bloom of bruises Darren had left on Eli’s flank. “Looks like you’ll be feeling this tomorrow,” Rick murmured, pressing lightly. The ache was deep, a satisfying echo Eli didn’t protest.

Darren chuckled, breath hot against Eli’s nape. “Wear ’em proud.” His arm, still locked around Eli’s waist, shifted, pulling Eli tighter against his chest as Rick leaned in to rinse Eli’s collarbone. Steam thickened the air, carrying the mingled scents of salt, sex, and cheap gym soap. Vince’s thumb brushed Eli’s throat, where Marco’s cock had left raw friction.

“Next time?” Vince asked, voice rough. He met Eli’s gaze — no tease, just intensity simmering beneath exhaustion. Eli swallowed, nodding.

Darren’s answering rumble vibrated through Eli’s back. “Count on it,” Darren said. Rick grinned, shifting his grip to Eli’s forearm — a silent claim.

Water sluiced down Vince’s scarred knuckles as he clasped Marco’s shoulder. “You sticking around?” Vince asked, the rasp in his voice softer now. Marco nodded, leaning into Vince’s touch — no words needed. Eli watched steam curl around their locked gazes. Something deeper than sweat and exertion settled between them all: a silent understanding forged by shared surrender.

Rick slid Darren’s soap-slick palm away from Eli’s hip, only to replace it with his own, fingers weaving through Eli’s. “You’re shaking,” Rick murmured, pressing Eli’s knuckles to his wet lips. Eli hadn’t noticed until then, the tremor in his limbs subsiding under Rick’s warmth. Darren’s arm tightened around Eli’s waist as Vince reached to scrub Eli’s back. The callouses on Vince’s palms scraped gently over Eli’s spine, erasing tension like chalk dust.

Marco chuckled, nudging Vince aside to rinse suds from Eli’s shoulder. “Move over, Vince. Let the man breathe.” But Vince stayed, his thumb tracing the raw spot on Eli’s throat where Marco’s thrusts had left friction burns. Eli leaned into Darren’s chest, exhaustion softening his muscles as the water sluiced away sweat and salt.

Rick squeezed Eli’s hip, fingers lingering over Darren’s fading grip marks. “You did good,” he murmured, low enough that only Eli heard. Darren’s arm tightened — not possessive, exactly, but solid, anchoring — as Rick slid soap down Eli’s flank again.

Vince’s chuckle rumbled against Eli’s back. “Better than good. Builder man’s got stamina.” The nickname had lost its bite, sounding almost fond.

Darren’s fingers traced Eli’s hipbone possessively. “Stamina?” He snorted. “This guy’s a fucking plow horse.” He paused, voice dropping. “Could use him every damn day.” Eli froze; those weren’t words tossed carelessly in steam. Eli felt Darren’s heartbeat thud against his spine: steady, certain.

Vince chuckled darkly, thumb pressing Eli’s bruised shoulder. “Starting tomorrow?” His gaze flicked to Darren, then Eli — a challenge accepted without words.

Marco’s smirk widened. He hooked an arm around Vince’s neck, pulling him close. “Told you he’d fit.”

Vince leaned in, forehead resting against Marco’s, breath mingling. “Yeah. He fits.”

The words settled into Eli’s bones, warmer than the water beating down. He tilted his head back against Darren’s shoulder, throat exposed, letting Rick wash the lingering traces of Marco from his lips. The soap stung faintly — a testament to friction, a reminder of possession. Rick’s thumb lingered on Eli’s jawline, tracing the shape of it like terrain he now knew by touch. Beside them, Vince clasped Marco’s nape, knuckles white for a heartbeat before loosening into something softer, more permanent. Steam wrapped them all, thick with unspoken promises.

Darren shifted, turning Eli gently toward Rick without loosening his hold entirely. “Shower’s biting,” Darren muttered, nodding toward Rick’s lean torso. Rick arched an eyebrow — a silent question — before stepping close, pressing his dripping chest flush against Eli’s. Eli gasped at the sudden warmth, skin sliding against skin.

Darren’s hand slid firmly onto Rick’s hip, anchoring the three of them together. Rick’s chuckle vibrated through Eli’s sternum. “Cold?” Rick teased, his fingers skimming Eli’s flank — over Darren’s fading bruises, past Vince’s lingering grip marks — methodically rinsing soap away. Eli shook his head, breath catching. It wasn’t cold. It was consolidation.

The showers rattled suddenly — a metallic groan echoing through the tiled chamber — as the water pressure plummeted to a thin drizzle. Steam thinned instantly, revealing Vince’s smirk as he shook wet hair from his eyes. “Perfect timing,” he rasped, clapping Marco’s shoulder. Marco grunted, reaching past him to twist the nearest knob uselessly. Only a hollow drip answered.

Darren’s grip on Eli’s hip loosened, but didn’t vanish. His palm lingered, thumb tracing the imprint left by his own fingers. “We’re done here anyway,” Darren murmured, voice rough against Eli’s ear. Rick slid away reluctantly, fingers trailing Eli’s spine one last time as he reached for a towel. The air chilled rapidly, raising gooseflesh on Eli’s flushed skin.

Vince snorted, twisting the dead knob savagely. “Fucking plumbing,” he spat, droplets still clinging to his shoulders where steam no longer warmed them.

Marco just grinned, sluicing water from his beard with both hands. “Better this than management walking in,” he rumbled. Silence fell — heavy, not with discomfort, but with exhaustion settling into bones. Eli pushed himself off the tiles, legs trembling only slightly now. Darren steadied him automatically, hand firm beneath Eli’s elbow.

Steam retreated entirely, leaving the air sharp and chilly against wet skin. The abrupt quiet amplified every sound: water dripping from faucets like a metronome, Rick snapping a towel open with a crack that echoed off the tiles. Eli reached for his own towel — rough cotton snagging his bruised hips — wincing as the fabric scraped raw skin Darren’s grip had branded.

Vince watched him, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Hurts?” Vince asked, not unkindly. Eli nodded, wrapping the towel tight. Vince just grunted, tossing Marco a towel without looking away. “Means you earned it.”

Rick chuckled, briskly drying Eli’s shoulders almost clinically before handing him another towel. “Wrap that around your hips. Hide the art.” His thumb brushed Darren’s fading fingerprint bruise on Eli’s hipbone — a brief, possessive touch.

Darren leaned against the fogged lockers, still nude, water droplets tracing his thighs. He watched Eli’s trembling hands struggle with the towel clasp, knuckles white against cheap terrycloth. “Need help?” Darren’s tone wasn’t mocking; low, serious. Eli shook his head sharply, fingers fumbling harder. Vince snorted softly. Marco tossed Eli’s gym bag at his feet, the thud echoing in the sudden quiet.

Rick knelt, ignoring his own nudity, and lifted Eli’s wrist. “Easy,” he murmured, pressing Eli’s palm flat against the locker door. With his free hand, Rick threaded the towel’s end around on itself. Secured. Eli exhaled — shaky, grateful — as Rick rose, fingers lingering on Eli’s hip where Darren’s bruise bloomed purple. Steam ghosts dissolved, leaving only damp tiles and the scent of spent lust.

Vince tossed Darren a towel — a rough arc cutting through the chill. Darren caught it without looking, eyes locked on Eli. “Tomorrow,” Darren said, low. Not a question. Eli nodded, throat tight. The word echoed: Darren’s hips pistoning into him, Vince’s fist twisting his cock, Marco’s salt on his tongue.

Tomorrow.

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

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This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.

Even though the characters in this story do not practice safe sex, you should. This story was written in the nude and you should get naked now before reading it. Feedback, recommendations for upcoming chapters, and nudes (aslong as you are of legal age) are much appreciated at: [email protected]

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As Daniel and I made our way toward the restaurant bar I had visited the day before, the streets were a little busier because of the lunch rush, and I could see all eyes were on me. My waiter was doubling as host and welcomed Daniel and me, his eyes glued to my crotch. “Derrick, you were not lying about hating clothes. I really did not think you could top yesterday’s sexy outfit,” he said.

Taking his time to look at my body, he did not neglect Daniel, commenting on his beautiful figure. Daniel was very impressive to look at: he was dark, about my height, but a lot more muscular than me. He also seemed to maybe be a little Latino. Even though I was pretty big myself, he did not fail to pull focus from even me, who was shirtless and nearly naked and standing next to him.

Having the waiter be so friendly toward me and so ready to comment on my body gave Daniel a puzzled look on his face. After sitting us down in what was a pretty busy place, he said he would come back shortly to take our orders. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I am starving,” was his response.

“I mean, you have a look on your face, maybe like you have something on your mind,” I said. “I am here if you want to talk about it,” I added, trying to sound empathetic but also curious.

“I met you about 14 hours ago and have spent my entire time with you. I am very comfortable in my skin, but you are something else,” he said. As he spoke, his face did not indicate if this was a good or bad thing; his stare was kind of blank. “I met you naked, you insisted we stay naked, I videotaped you naked for who knows how many people, and even though you are wearing shorts, I feel like you are still naked. I have thongs that cover my manhood more.” As he said this, he started laughing.

“I am just very impressed with your lifestyle and your ability to be naked in front of so many dressed people. I could not believe you got naked at the shop and came here to this busy restaurant in those see-through white shorts. The waiter, who you probably just met yesterday, already recognized your nudist ways,” he said with a look on his face I could finally recognize.

“Does it bother you?” I asked sincerely while holding on to his hand.

“No, it excites me, to be honest,” he said, looking into my eyes.

“Hello, I am Tom,” a guy my age approached our table with a big smile and a very confident tone. He was definitely a little more gay-acting than usual, but not over the top.

Both Daniel and I were a little confused, although we were able to communicate with each other with our eyes, and the message was that this guy did look familiar. Still, we didn’t know who he was.

“I am currently your roommate at the hostel, and I was also at the gym today at the same time you guys were there. Actually, I just arrived here a few minutes ago. Would you mind if I join you, roomies?” Tom said as he practically began pulling a chair out.

“Of course, please,” Daniel and I spoke in unison. Tom was very charming, persuasive, and we felt a little guilty not recognizing him nor having seen him at the gym. Tom was the guy who was fully clothed during his shower at the hostel, changed in the bathroom, wore pajamas, and I imagine he was probably equally covered in the gym. Even though he had a nice body, I probably would not have noticed him. Now he was here in jeans and a t-shirt.

Tom was so outgoing, and after knowing we had never been here for lunch, he began recommending some of the healthier options and offered to buy us a post-workout smoothie. He spoke to the staff by name and practically ordered for us. He was very charming and made both Daniel and me feel completely at ease. “I have been coming here for the past three days. It’s so nice to have a gay space,” Tom said. “Are you guys gay?” he asked in a way that did not feel at all intrusive, which caused me to reply instantly in the affirmative.

As both Tom and I shifted our attention to Daniel, I wondered. He was so masculine, and even though we had jerked off together and kissed a little, that was pretty normal for straight men. I would not have been surprised if his answer was no, or if he was bi, but to my surprise, he answered in the affirmative as well.

Throughout lunch, Tom kind of took over the conversation, but he did it in a way that quickly let us get to know each other. Tom was here for college to learn some kind of tech stuff and was staying at the hostel while he found a place.

Daniel was also in tech, although he had already finished school he was having a hard time finding a job. At this point, he was open to anything that kept him in the city where he would be able to continue looking for jobs in his field. Being in a specific field he had studied and being fresh out of college meant the process of finding a job was going to be a little bit longer. He was happy staying at the hostel for now since he liked the neighborhood and could not really afford anything more at this time; however, he was optimistic and knew he would be very happy once he was able to find the right job.

When my turn came to speak, Daniel let out a slight grin when I casually said I worked from home. When I mentioned I was also starting school next week and was looking to have a place by the end of the week, Tom became very excited. “I have been here for three more days than you, but I spent them taking orientations for school. I am about to start apartment hunting today; we can do it together. I assume you are looking for a place in this area?”

“I am,” I said. I had not made an official decision as to where to live; however, this area was the most likely outcome, and judging from Tom’s tone, apartment hunting together did not sound like it was optional.

“This area is a bit difficult; there is a lot of demand, and it is not very cheap. It will be challenging, but I know we could do it, roomie. Hopefully, we will both be settled in before school. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with a realtor for one of these buildings in about an hour; you are welcome to join.”

Daniel and I looked at each other again without speaking. We managed to communicate how nice Tom was and how convenient having met him was turning out to be, especially for me.

We agreed, and Daniel said he did not have any interviews lined up for today, so he would be joining us. Having an extra hour to kill after lunch, we decided to just camp out at the bar till we had to leave. Once the lunch rush was coming to an end, Tyrone, our waiter casually sat down at our table to have a rest and to chat.

“Derrick, our boss is arriving here shortly, and I sincerely hope seeing you doesn’t give him any ideas. We had already had a meeting about him wanting all of us to wear sexier outfits. As a matter of fact, in our last meeting, we were able to buy some time, but he had been very clear we would eventually transition to working shirtless,” Tyrone said.

“Does your boss come here every day?” Tom asked what we were all wondering.

“Most of the time, but especially on Tuesdays when he interviews waiters, go-go boys, drag performers, and strippers,” Tyrone explained.

Without missing a beat, Tom began inquiring about everything regarding the pay, the workplace, benefits, and the overall positives and negatives about working here. He laser-focused on both waiter and stripper positions, which would be positions he knew Daniel could possibly fill while finding a job. Again, both Daniel and I looked at each other, impressed at what a gem Tom was turning out to be and how Daniel could probably consider taking a job here while he found his dream job.

Tyrone explained that everyone was very easy to get along with, especially the kitchen and wait staff, which were part of the main team. The boss was very nice and generous, and tips were above average; however, they were pretty much always hiring waiters since looks were so important in order to work here, many were models or actors who were working here until they caught their big break.

Getting into the stripping position, Tom got directly to the point and asked if they had full nudity. “Many of the strippers we have here now do not go down to full nudity and do not allow a lot of touching, although we do have the license for it. Some occasionally do, and they seem to get more tips. Even though this is not allowed, we are pretty much very chill here and turn our eyes to clients taking strippers home,” Tyrone explained.

“Go-go dancers on occasion flash their dicks to the audience, but the real hardcore strippers are the touring celebrity porn stars who often will have a show here. They usually fill the place to capacity and will go down to full nudity, allow groping, and on some occasions, a few of them will have a full-on sex show,” Tyrone said.

A very nice, good-looking, and well-dressed gentleman, probably in his mid-to-late thirties—grabbed onto the back of Tyrone’s chair and kneeled his face down closer to ours. “How are you gentlemen enjoying yourselves here?” he asked.

“This is my second day here in a row. We all really enjoyed our lunch, and Tyrone has been the perfect server to me on both my visits. I brought my friend Daniel here today, and Tom just confessed to us this is his fourth day in a row visiting your establishment. I assume you are the owner or manager here,” I said while acknowledging everyone at the table as I spoke about them.

“You caught me. I am the owner here and am so happy to hear your feedback. Please let me know if you need anything else, ideally a job application,” the man said with a wink. “I really appreciate you being here since I have always found that eye candy brings in customers,” he said to the three of us. “Now you two are putting my waiter’s outfits to shame,” this time he spoke directly to Daniel and me. “Look at how normal and comfortable this gentleman looks without having to wear a shirt, Tyrone,” the man continued, looking at both of us without making us feel uncomfortable.

Tyrone looked a bit annoyed. “Please excuse me as I have an appointment in my office right now,” he very politely said as he excused himself, and we all smiled at the charming man—except for Tyrone, who was still looking a bit annoyed.

Knowing why Tom had been so inquisitive, I turned to Daniel and said, “Being a server here sounds like a great job to have while you find your dream job: the pay, the tips, the fun workplace, and what seems to be a very nice and caring boss. Besides, my friend, you practically just got pre-approved from the boss, who complimented the three of us on our looks.” Getting that expressionless look on Daniel’s face, I caught on to his hesitation and said, “The outfit you have now is pretty much as revealing as what Tyrone is wearing, and the worst thing that can happen is that you guys go shirtless soon. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it? If I didn’t have an interview with Tom’s realtor, I would probably apply for the stripper position.” I saw a genuine surprised look coming from Tom when I said this.

“The boss is a sweet talker, but I have known him long enough to know when he is bullshitting, and I can confirm that if you want the job, it is yours,” Tyrone chimed in.

Tom commented on the proximity to the tech district, the gay neighborhood, the hostel, and the gym. He also mentioned the casual atmosphere and how not many places allowed their staff to casually sit with the patrons.

“Lunch and dinner are very chill; the nightshift, when the place turns into a nightclub, can be a little more intense. The clients are all very respectful; however, there is always the one who may have had too much to drink. Luckily, our security team is the best, and if a client ever gets handsy with us, they immediately get thrown out. This happens the most on the nights when we have strippers or go-go boys who get the clients horny and riled up.”

“I would probably only be able to work the dinner or nightshift since my interviews are during the day,” Daniel spoke.

“That is the shift we are the most understaffed in, so this would be perfect. You want me to get you an application?” Tyrone said.

Daniel nodded.

When Tyrone came back with the application, he said, “Just fill this out, and I can probably get you into the interview within the hour if somebody cancels—or in an hour and a half at the most. Hopefully you have your nice underwear on, since all applicants are required to strip down to their underwear during the interview.”

By now, I was able to read Daniel like a book and could see he was panicking. “I am not wearing any underwear. These gym shorts are lined, so I rarely wear underwear since most of my gym shorts have built-in underwear,” Daniel said.

“This is not an uncommon occurrence during interviews, and the boss will have no problem interviewing you in the nude. I would advise you to go and get some underwear if you are uncomfortable being naked; however, I assure you my boss is not a creep—he just really cares about his staff,” Tyrone offered.

“I do not have any presentable or clean underwear. They are all in pretty bad shape since I have been a struggling college student for the past four years,” Daniel said. It was nice, the friendship he and I had developed in such a short time—and then today Tom, who had practically made us all bond even more, and even Tyrone, who was so friendly. This made Daniel feel comfortable enough to share the state of his wardrobe and finances.

“Daniel, I do not have time to get home and change; our appointment with the realtor is in less than twenty minutes. Why don’t you let me borrow your tank top, and I will let you borrow my new underwear?” I offered.

Tom intervened: “You should borrow the tank top and the shorts. I do not mean to be rude, but I can perfectly see the outline of your cockhead, shaft, and balls—not to mention the shorts slide completely into your crack, giving the illusion you are naked. This would not be too appropriate for a realtor who will probably be wearing a suit.”

Tyrone peeked over and said he completely agreed.

“Wait a minute, I do mind waiting here shirtless, but I do have a problem sitting here in those white see-through shorts,” Daniel protested.

“Daniel, you can wear the underwear under the shorts while you wait here so that you are not so exposed,” I said in a very calming way.

“Well, I figured the white shorts would count as underwear,” Daniel said.

“I think they are more revealing than any underwear I have ever worn,” Tom chimed in with a bit of a tone.

“I would probably count them as underwear too; however, the boss already saw Derrick using them as outerwear, so he would expect you to remove them during the interview,” Tyrone explained.

“This is unbelievable. Fine,” Daniel said as he stood up.

“Where are you going? We can change right here.” As I said this, I got up, bent over away from the table, pulling my shorts down. My action served two purposes: one was to expose my hole to the table, and two was to grab my shopping bag, which was behind my chair, and hand it over to Daniel.

“Are you crazy?” Tom intervened.

“Nudity is allowed in the bar; why would we bother going to the bathroom?” I said, looking at Tyrone for confirmation. I could see Tom was visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable; however, Tyrone confirmed this was no big deal.

Daniel reluctantly stripped down his shorts first, then his tank top. Struggling to get his tight shorts past his shoes, he had to bend over, exposing his beautiful hairy hole, taint, and balls. As soon as I put on the tank and shorts, Tom rushed me out of the restaurant, and while we rounded the corner, I could see Daniel through the window struggling to figure out how the string was supposed to be put on.

When we ended up getting to the building, Tom told the receptionist he had an appointment, and we were asked to sit in a waiting area. A very handsome man in a suit came out and called Tom by his surname and ushered us into his office. “Hi, Tom. I was under the impression you were looking for a studio unit or a one-bedroom. I imagined you lived alone,” the handsome realtor spoke with a bit of surprise as he eyed me over.

“Yes, I am looking to live alone; however, my friend, who I ran into this afternoon, is also looking for an apartment for himself, so I figured I would bring him over in case you had a studio or one-bedroom for him to look at,” Tom explained.

“Well, actually, I did have one studio and a one-bedroom; however, both were occupied just before you got here. I didn’t have enough time to call you and notify you. However, I do have a two-bedroom I can show you, and I wanted to show you the building amenities,” he explained while reaching for a big brochure.

“The two-bedroom apartment is very spacious. It has a big living room area, balcony, huge kitchen, laundry room, and one very big bathroom with state-of-the-art glass door and rainfall shower head, along with a bathtub,” the realtor continued. “The owner is leaving town by the end of the week and has priced well below market value in order to make sure it rents. Perhaps you and your friend can have a look at it. With the price, you guys would be paying way less per month than if I had you cramped up in a studio.”

Tom and I looked at each other, and it was amazing how friendly we had become in the last couple of hours that we too were able to communicate without speaking. The message was: why not?

The place was huge; it was on a high floor and had beautiful views of the city. It was fully furnished and was probably the nicest place I had ever visited in my entire life. It was very fancy and very impressive. Both Tom and I were in love with the place, and the realtor did a great job highlighting all of the amenities, including the building’s.

After a thorough walk-through and talk with the realtor, we asked him to excuse us. “There is one more thing: this place is available on a month-to-month basis. I know this is very unusual; however, it is ideal for a roommate scenario. I just wanted to let you know since that may be something that could help you feel more at ease,” the realtor said, smiled, and stepped outside the apartment, letting us know he would be right outside.

“Tom, I feel very comfortable with you, and the place is perfect for the both of us, the terms, the location, the price, and we seem to be a perfect match since we are both on similar career paths. However, I must reveal to you, if you had not caught on earlier, that I am a nudist, which means I do not wear clothes unless I absolutely need to, and of course this means I am always naked at home. From the little I have known of you regarding your body, I would say you are the opposite of me.”

“You are right. I have always been very uncomfortable with nudity and being naked in front of others. However, please know that I know it’s not normal, and I am trying to get better. Also, I am a very good friend and always try to find a solution. We can discuss the exact terms later; however, I am sure we would be able to find a solution where you are able to be naked the most possible, and who knows, maybe you can help me feel more comfortable with my body,” Tom said in a sincere tone.

“I have the money to leave a deposit on this place, which should buy us a couple of days to think about it. Even if you decide not to be my roommate, I may be able to find someone else or find something else in this building. I am quite determined to live in this amazing building, so it would not be a loss, even if you decided a roommate was not for you,” Tom said.

Tom had a way about him, and he sounded sincere. It seemed like I was not committing to anything, and the truth was I was completely in love with the apartment. Even if I did not take the apartment, Tom seemed like the person that I wanted to keep as a friend regardless, so I agreed. I was probably at about 75%; however, the only thing on my mind were the terms of my nudity. What did he mean by getting to be naked most of the time? If anything, I was hoping I could find a way of being naked 24/7.

We got back to the office; Tom explained the situation, and we were given 24 hours to think about it. The deposit would not be refundable; however, it was applicable to another apartment in the building, and of course there was the possibility of Tom moving into the apartment with someone else, and the convenient month-to-month agreement.

When we got back to the restaurant bar, Daniel looked so sexy in my shorts, and the string made his junk look so much more prominent. I was very happy with my purchase; it looked like the string pushed the cock and balls forward, making for a bigger bulge. He was surrounded by Tyrone and a couple of other waiters, who he introduced us to.

“You are looking at our new nightshift worker,” Tyrone said with a smile.

Tom and I became very happy. I immediately stripped off the shirt, which Daniel took in his hand. Then I began pulling down my shorts before Daniel stopped me. “I am quite comfortable in these; no need to change shorts. You win—I am more comfortable in my skin than I already was, thanks to you,” he said with a smile.

I was upset at not being able to strip naked in front of all these waiters and patrons; however, I was happy I was influencing Daniel to show off his beautiful body. We sat down; we had so much to talk about. First, Daniel needed to tell us everything about his interview, and Tom and I had so much to tell Daniel and also discuss amongst ourselves. By the time we were done talking, it was dinner time, which we ordered.

Daniel’s interview had gone great, and he had gotten the job basically the moment he walked in the door, and for sure when he revealed into a white mesh see-through string. I was impressed he had gone with that one for the job interview and not the less see-through one.

Then Tom and I explained to Daniel everything about the apartment and the terms. It was perfect for us, and Tom and I were practically perfect roommate material for each other, with the exception of the nudity.

Daniel immediately put on his usual face, which said nothing.

Tom took over: “This is what I would propose:

1. You would obviously be allowed to be naked in your room, and I would not mind if your door was opened or closed. If you were to be giving yourself some self-care, I would prefer the door to be closed, but an open door would be fine too.

2. If you did have somebody over for sex, the door should be closed—as you could also expect from me.

3. My school schedule starts at 1, so I would probably be asleep till 10 a.m., which means you can be naked around the apartment before 10 a.m. If I happen to wake up earlier for whatever reason, you may remain naked.

4. I will probably be gone from 12 p.m. to 8 p.m., in which case you would be able to be naked anywhere in the apartment.

5. I would only ask that you wear underwear from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. while I am in the apartment with you if you decide to be outside of your bedroom—and from 8 p.m. on.

6. A bad roommate quality of mine is that I do enjoy the company of many friends, so it will be very probable that I have friends over on the regular. If you wish to join us, you must wear underwear; however, if you need to use the bathroom, you can walk to the bathroom naked anytime you want.

7. While I am in the bathroom, you would be strictly forbidden—I would die if you saw me naked or shirtless—but don’t worry, we can communicate, and I do not take long showers.

8. Getting away from your nudity, I do like having a very clean apartment; however, I hate chores. I think we should split them; however, if you are willing to take over any of my chores while you are at home, I would allow you to perform them naked.

9. On Saturdays and Sundays, I do not have a plan. I would probably go out to hang out with friends, but if I did stay in, I would appreciate you extending your underwear-wearing hours around the house to accommodate my schedule.”

“This does not seem too bad, Derrick,” Daniel said.

I agreed. I thought I was practically able to have my door open the entire time, which meant anyone who entered the apartment would see me naked. If not, I could always walk to the bathroom naked. With Tom being so popular, he would probably have lots of guys all the time, and I would have more possibilities of having men see me naked than I would living on my own.

“Your offer does not seem too bad at all, but first I must tell you that when I told you I worked from home, I meant I am an adult content creator and would be filming from home,” I said.

“I do not care what you do in your room and while I am not home,” Tom said confidently.

“I can accommodate you on Saturdays with extending my underwear schedule; however, Sundays are non-negotiable, and I refuse to wear clothing on that day, which is the only day I do not hit the gym and am able to remain naked,” I said.

“I guess that would be fine,” Tom said in a hesitant way.

“As far as underwear are concerned, I have not owned any in years, and these are the ones I got today. Daniel, would you mind pulling down your shorts and showing Tom to see if these are acceptable?” I said, and Daniel, to my surprise, obliged.

“Absolutely not,” Tom said.

Feeling like calling the whole deal off, Daniel intervened. “About six years ago, my dad bought me a six-pack of grocery store cotton string bikini underwear. I love it because of how comfortable it is. While it is sexy, it does cover me up more than your strings. They are very old, and some have a few holes; however, I think you would enjoy them—they are very comfortable, and I think they would suffice for Tom’s needs.”

Reaching in his gym bag, he pulled out a pair. “I would be able to give you two of them for you to own if Tom approves.” Reaching for the baby blue, he handed them to me. I removed my gym shorts in front of the bar, put the undies on, and paraded my body in front of Tom.

“Those can work,” Tom said.

To my surprise, Daniel had written all of our rules on a napkin and had practically made a contract, which he asked us both to sign. We did, and shortly ordered shots, celebrating our new roommate relationship and beautiful new apartment.

“I never imagined being naked in front of a gay man was going to be such a problem,” I said.

“You are absolutely right, and I promise to work on my issues; however, I cannot guarantee I will be able to change. Trust me, I wish I was as comfortable in my own skin being naked as much as you, but I am not. Maybe things will change, but for now, this contract should work for us,” Tom said.

After dinner, we headed home. Being nine p.m., the three of us hit the showers—with me and Daniel fully naked, and Tom in his long shorts and swimming top. We were all very happy with what this day had brought. While brushing our teeth, Daniel and I told Tom we would be having some wine on the secret rooftop, which he happily agreed to. At 10 p.m., a naked Daniel and I met a pajama-wearing Tom and headed upstairs.

Tom seemed genuinely happy for the friendship. He began sharing a bit more about his adverse reaction to nudity as the wine took its effect on him—and he was not alone. As the wine began hitting Daniel and me, we became handsy with each other, and we asked Tom if he would mind filming us having a mutual jerk-off session for my fans account. Tom was taken aback, but the alcohol made him agree, and before we knew it, Tom was filming both Daniel and me having a very heavy-handed make-out session, grabbing on to each other’s bodies while jerking off each other. Within fifteen minutes, we had cum all over each other, and I had decided to lick my cum off of Daniel’s perfect body—and to my surprise, he did the same. Tom kicked in to the cameraman and made sure to capture all the footage with a totally huge and erect dick concealed behind his three-piece pajama set. To my surprise, Daniel did the same and licked all of his cum off my body while grabbing my entire body with his hands.

“Oh my god, that was so hot, guys,” Tom said, the wine doing most of the talking. “I am so grateful to have met you, and I am quite excited about becoming roomies. I know you were put here on this earth to help me with my ridiculous aversion to nudity.”

Just like that, Tom and Daniel took some more video of me for my Fans account, and the three of us climbed quietly into bed.

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If you made it this far please write me with your story ideas at [email protected], follow me on X @nakedderrick or visit my buy me a coffee page coff.ee/nakedderrick – it helps me write more stories. 

Leave a comment too… 

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

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This is a fictional story and does not portray real events or real persons. All characters are 18 or older.

Granddad was hung up by his arms in the basement, completely naked except for the ball gag in his mouth. His 58 year old body hung there like a piece of meat, while I used the flogger on his ass. My friend Roger was in front, roughly yanking granddad’s thick cock up and down. I reached between his legs and pulled his big balls tight. I could tell he was making a desperate effort to cum. Both Roger and me graduated high school that year and we had all summer to play with granddad.

He finally did cum. His cock was twitching and streams of cum shot from his thick cock. It ran down his cock, over his balls and finally dripped on the floor. I always liked to play with his cock and balls after his orgasm. It was fun to slap his cock from side to side or up and down. I would also give his balls a little slap every now and then.

The last thing was to use the dildo, rubbing it over and over his prostate. It would make him cum once more, then I could milk him slowly. I loved how the head of his cock was so sensitive. I would rub my hand over it and watch him shake while he loudly groaned and moaned. 

It was enough for now, it was almost noon. We led him upstairs to the bathroom. I slapped him across the ass.

“Take a shower. Then get in the kitchen and fix lunch for us.”

I never get over watching granddad walk around the house naked. By the time he put lunch on the table, I could see his cock was stiff again. I should point out, granddad took an erection drug that would make him hard every time he was sexually aroused. It usually lasted for about 36 hours. After lunch, we went back to the basement.

The weight bench I had there made a perfect bondage bench. I could tie granddad to it in, leaving his cock, balls and ass open for play. His head rested on the other end, ready for any and all cocks to be inserted. Roger and I took turns fucking him. The second time, granddad’s cock just went off, spitting cum all over.

Later, Roger and me lined up in front of him, ready to fuck his face. I know granddad had to wondered how much cum could these boys have in their balls? I saw granddad’s cock was hard once again. His legs were apart, so Roger pulled granddad’s cock up between his legs and gave it a good milking.   

Granddad’s balls didn’t have much cum left in them. He still shook, groaned and moaned, but only a few drops oozed out of his cock. It was time to take him for a walk out in the back yard. I put the collar around his neck and clipped on the leash. I tied his arms together just above the elbows and tied his wrists.

There was one of those old outdoor ‘T’ post clothes drying lines in the back yard. It was about 20 foot long, with cables strung between each post. I looped the leash over one of the cables and granddad walked back and forth from end to end. It was not only fun watching him walk back and forth, but it was good exercise for him. I never got tired watching him parade around naked with a hard-on.

Granddad was always the happiest when he was tied up and forced to do something. I never knew if he got aroused from the bondage or the humiliation. I do know it was a great time we had. When I did allow granddad to wear clothes, it was only a pair of golf shorts, a golf shirt, shoes and socks, and nothing else. I always took him shopping with me just. I made him push the cart. That way I would reach inside his shorts and pinch the head of his hard cock.

Roger and me had a friend, Bruce, who was a transgender. He was a lot on the feminine side and he loved to suck cocks and to get fucked. He usually liked younger men, but he took a liking to my granddad. I would take granddad over to his apartment occasionally for fun. Granddad liked getting his cock sucked and he enjoyed fucking Bruce.

As a matter fact, when Roger and me went off to college, Bruce moved in with my granddad. I came home once during spring break, to find granddad in tight bondage. Bruce was flogging his ass while granddad was sucking Bruce’s cock. I think they were both happy and they made each others dreams come true. I often think about those days.

The basement is all dark now. My arms are tied above my head and my mouth gagged. I’m naked with my legs wide open. Suddenly the lights come on. Now, I’m the granddad in the basement, waiting for my grandson. He takes the flogger in his hand and smiles at me.

“Granddad! You always look so fucking good when you’re naked. We better get started. I don’t want your big cock to get soft just yet.”

END.      

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I was folding laundry on the couch when the bathroom door creaked open upstairs. Dad had just finished his Saturday jog and shower; the hallway smelled like Irish Spring and steam. The door was cracked a few inches—he always leaves it that way when he thinks the house is empty. I glanced up without thinking.

He was at the sink, towel low, back to me. Upper fifties, still solid—broad shoulders, a little softness around the middle, thick chest hair going gray. He turned for his deodorant and the towel shifted—just enough. I saw it: dense, wiry salt-and-pepper bush, cut cock hanging heavy, soft but thick, the head flared and pink. He didn’t see me. Just retied the towel and walked to his room.

I kept folding, but my mind wouldn’t let it go. Dad came down ten minutes later in gray sweatpants and an old Navy tee, pouring coffee. I grabbed a water and sat.

He glanced over. “You eat?”

“Not yet.” My voice sounded off.

He leaned on the counter, sipping. “What’s up?”

I rubbed my neck. “Bathroom door was cracked.”

He snorted. “Towel slipped. Sorry.”

“No big deal.” I paused, then blurted, “You’re… really thick.”

He raised an eyebrow, half-smirk. “Thanks. Runs in the family.”

I laughed, awkward. “You sure? I mean… I’m not small, but…”

He set his mug down. “You fishing for a ruler?” I shrugged, face hot. “Kinda.”

He huffed a laugh, not offended. “Alright. Let’s settle it.”

He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and shoved his sweatpants down just enough. His cock flopped out—heavy, soft, nestled in that thick, untamed bush of gray-black pubes. Cut head, flared and pink, resting against his thigh. He gave it a lazy shake. “There.”

I swallowed. Stood. Pushed my shorts down. My dick was already half-hard, springing free—cut, long, thinner than his, curving up.

He looked. Nodded. “Not bad, Dylan. Good length. You’ll fill out.”

We both just stood there, dicks out, the kitchen quiet except for the fridge hum. I couldn’t tuck back in. Neither could he. His started to thicken, just from the air, the comparison.

I took a breath. “They look different soft. What about hard?”

He stared at me a second, then shrugged. “Fair point. Sit.”

We moved to the living room. He dropped into the recliner, legs spread. I sat on the couch, facing him, maybe five feet apart. He wrapped a fist around his cock—slow, deliberate strokes. It grew fast in his hand, thickening, veins popping, the head swelling dark pink. That bush framed it like a crown.

I gripped mine, matching his pace. Long pulls from base to tip, thumb swiping the head. Pre-cum beaded quick, slicking my palm. The room filled with soft, wet sounds—skin on skin, breathing getting heavier.

He glanced over. “Both cut. Easier to clean.”

“Yeah.” I pumped steady, eyes on his fist moving through that thick bush. His cock was fully hard now—thick, a solid seven inches, girth like a beer can. Bigger than mine by a lot.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Yours is a monster.”

“Yours ain’t small,” he grunted. “Nice curve. Girls like that.”

We kept stroking, tension building. I was close—hips twitching, fist flying. He was too, abs flexing, breath ragged.

Then I stood, stepped closer. “Can we… compare hard? Like, side by side?”

He paused, fist still. Looked at me a long second. Then nodded. “Alright.”

I moved between his knees. We both stood. Our cocks were inches apart, both rock-hard, throbbing. I reached out, hesitant. He didn’t stop me.

I pressed mine against his—hot skin on hot skin, the contrast stark. His was thicker, heavier, the head flaring wider; mine longer but slimmer, curving up. I slid them together, base to tip, feeling the weight, the heat, the pulse. Pre-cum smeared between us, slick and warm. “Jesus,” I whispered. “Feel that?”

He grunted, hips shifting slightly. “Yeah. You’re not kidding.”

We stayed like that—cocks pressed together, sliding slow, the friction electric. My hand wrapped around both, stroking us as one. His breath hitched. Mine too.

Then I dropped to my knees. “Just the head,” I whispered. “Please.”

He didn’t stop me. Just leaned back, hand falling to his thigh.

I took his flared head in my mouth—hot, salty, the skin smooth over steel. I sucked gentle, tongue swirling under the ridge. He groaned, low and rough, hand settling on my head—not pushing, just there.

He tensed. “Fuck—gonna—”

I didn’t pull off.

He came hard—thick, heavy pulses flooding my mouth. The taste hit strong: salty, slightly bitter, thick and creamy, coating my tongue. I swallowed fast, some leaking down my chin. Kept sucking softly until he softened, the last drops oozing out warm and slick.

He pulled out slow, breathing hard. Grabbed tissues from the side table, handed me a wad. “Clean up,” he said, voice gruff but steady.

I wiped my face. Nodded. Tasted him still—salty, musky, real.

He stood, pulled his sweats up, and walked upstairs like it was just another Saturday.

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