Author: admin

The Fiesta de la Vendimia in Spain is a lively celebration of the grape harvest, held in wine regions like La Rioja and Jerez. The festival features grape stomping, wine tastings, and parades, along with folk dances, music, and the crowning of the Harvest Queen. As bodegas open their doors to visitors, wine flows freely, making the event a joyful tribute to Spain’s winemaking heritage. 

I was invited by Jorge, a 28-year-old nightclub singer from Spain. We met in my Persuasion and Public Speaking class, where he gave a presentation on the rhetorical power of live performance in intimate venues. When he responded to my email about festival study opportunities during my sabbatical, he invited me to La Rioja, where, he said, I could fully experience the Fiesta de la Vendimia—grape harvest celebrations filled with music, dance, and the traditional barefoot grape-stomping.

Jorge and I met in the morning at my hotel.  He greeted me with a warm handshake and a smile that suggested he was already looking forward to the day ahead. He was wearing his usual style—tighter jeans, a simple shirt, and a lightweight jacket that showed off his lean frame. He made a few jokes about the heat and the festivals I’d surely be covering, which was a playful reminder of our past exchanges back in the classroom.  Then he led me to the heart of the Vendimia Festival, a celebration of the harvest and the art of winemaking, that drew thousands each year to the town of Haro in La Rioja.

Our first stop was at a local artisans’ market that sprawled along the cobblestone streets. It was a maze of color and life, with stalls offering everything from handmade jewelry to fresh produce and vibrant textiles. We spent a little time there, picking out a few things for the day. Jorge bought a hand-carved wooden wine cork that, he promised, would add a touch of tradition to his collection. I, on the other hand, picked up a delicate ceramic jug painted with the rich colors of the harvest, a perfect memento of the festival for me as a bottomless tea drinker. We also stopped to sample a few sweet pastries from a stand where an elderly woman with a radiant smile offered us small almond cakes that melted in our mouths. I couldn’t resist buying a bag to snack on later.

Nearby, a local artist was painting colorful scenes of the festival in real-time—his brush danced across the canvas, capturing the bustling atmosphere of the market. His paintings were being sold as fast as he could finish them, and I noticed several tourists were eager to get one.

Next, we made our way through the bustling festival grounds, moving toward the first of the day’s events—the traditional barrel rolling race.

The race was set up on a long stretch of cobbled street, where dozens of competitors—mostly local men—lined up to push empty barrels through a course marked by flags and checkered lines. The goal was to roll the heavy barrels from one end of the course to the other without losing control, navigating sharp turns and avoiding any mishaps that could cause the barrel to topple. Jorge explained that it was an age-old tradition—one that tested strength, agility, and control.

As he spoke, we watched a pair of brothers, both tall and muscular, expertly maneuvering their barrels, their faces tight with concentration. Nearby, an elderly man, clearly older than the other competitors, made his way to the starting line, his barrel wobbling with every step. He was cheered on by a group of teenagers who were betting on him, despite his clear disadvantage. As the race unfolded, a number of barrels toppled over, and the crowd laughed, clapping and shouting with good-natured excitement. The young men cheered for their favorites, while older spectators exchanged knowing smiles, as if they’d seen it all before. The elderly man’s barrel wobbled just past the finish line, and he raised his arms in triumph, his victory bringing a fresh round of applause from the crowd.

Afterward, Jorge suggested we go to a wine tasting session in the underground caves of a local vineyard. The cool, damp air inside the caves was a welcome relief from the hot sun. We were led down a narrow stone staircase into a vast, dimly lit space lined with rows of wooden wine barrels. The guide, a woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile, explained the history of the vineyard and the delicate art of winemaking. We tasted five different wines, each one unique and rich in flavor. First came a crisp white wine, light and zesty, with hints of citrus and green apple. Next, we sampled a smooth rosé, its subtle berry notes lingering on the tongue. The third wine was a bold red, full of deep cherry flavors with a spicy finish. A local Tempranillo followed, its complexity revealing layers of dark plum and oak, and finally we ended with a dessert wine that was rich and sweet, almost syrupy with notes of honey and fig. The wine’s sweetness made us feel like we were drinking pure sunlight. Jorge and I agreed to purchase a bottle of the Tempranillo for the evening, the perfect way to remember the day. We shared a few more thoughts on the differences in taste, enjoying the peacefulness of the cave, with only the sound of corks being pulled and wine being poured filling the air.

After the wine tasting, we joined the crowd for the grand parade that marked the heart of the Vendimia Festival. The street was alive with vibrant colors as dancers, musicians, and giant puppets made their way through the town square. One puppet, a towering figure of a grape harvester, was dressed in tattered but colorful clothes, with hands outstretched as if inviting the crowd to join in the festivities. Its weathered face, adorned with a wide grin, I am sure, symbolized the joy of the harvest season. Another puppet, a regal woman in a long velvet gown, moved with a stately elegance, her arms sweeping gracefully through the air as though she were leading the entire parade. Her elaborate crown sparkled under the sun, and her eyes, painted in shades of deep green and gold, glimmered as if she were gazing at something beyond the crowd. A third puppet, a mischievous jester with a painted smile and exaggerated, angular limbs, skipped along beside the others, its bell-covered shoes ringing with each step. It brought a light-hearted energy to the procession, bobbing its oversized head comically as it made playful gestures at the audience. There were dozens of other puppets in the parade, each one more striking than the last—some giants with spindly legs and some dolls in intricately decorated costumes, their faces frozen in expressions of joy, wisdom, or mischief. The music from a brass band mixed with the rhythm of drums, and the dancers swirled around the puppets in time with the beat, their colorful skirts flying through the air.

By the time the parade wrapped up, the sun was starting to dip low, casting a warm glow over the festival grounds. Jorge took me to a local restaurant for a sumptuous Spanish feast. We sat at a long wooden table, hungrily inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meats and roasted vegetables. Platters of paella and lamb chops were served, along with rich cheeses such as Manchego and Cabrales, and freshly baked bread. The cheese was sharp, its creamy texture was perfect for the wine we had bought. Jorge explained that this particular restaurant had a history of serving regional delicacies during the festival, and we could taste the passion and pride in each dish. Between bites, we discussed everything from music to the impact of local traditions on modern culture, remembering with fondness our experiences back at my alma mater.

One memory that I shared was the Student Spring festival at our university, where students performed various songs, skits and acts on the topic of spring and love.  Our Spanish exchange student Jorge charmed all the girls in the audience with what he said was a “serenade men would sing under the window of their loved ones, holding a rose in their hands.”   The rest of the semester the entire university was singing – in broken Spanish! – the simple lines that translated as follows:

Beneath your window, my soul sighs,
the moon bears witness to my great passion.
The stars sing sweet melodies,
and with each chord, I give you my love.

Your eyes shine like the clear dawn,
your laughter is the song I long to hear.
If you let me steal a glance from you,
I will be a prisoner of your sweet love.

After the feast, Jorge took me to the Ebro River to go stargazing, not on a hill but on a small boat. We floated gently down the river, the only sound being the soft lapping of water against the hull. The night was cool and bright.  We drifted past a few other boats, and heard the sound of other groups of festivalgoers singing love songs to the sound of guitars, their voices carrying across the water and the shore. The atmosphere was full of warmth and shared joy.

I leaned over and asked, “Jorge, would you sing our song with them?” His eyes twinkled and he smiled, already humming the tune. It seemed like the other boats stopped singing when Jorge stood up and, with his clear and powerful baritone, started the song I immediately remembered: “Bach a too went Ana, me alma zoos peer…”

As we sat there, the stars twinkling overhead, I realized how much this festival, this day spent with Jorge, reflected the warmth and the timeless union of this land, its people, and the music—experiences that felt as timeless as the harvest season itself.

 

My Takeaways

The rolling barrels, the puppet parade and the incredible paella I tried at this event still keep coming to me in my dreams.  I found Spanish people very courteous, incredibly beautiful and touchy on the inside and the outside, and relished their incredible hospitality. I also enjoyed the sheer joy of their festival, during which they never lost the dignity of their centuries-old civilization!

An evening with Jorge

Ah, Serenading!

Ah, serenading!  Listening to a man singing a love song for you is so breathtaking.  When I hear a serenade, I make a mental picture of how the man under my window is already horny and wanting to engage with me, and that alone, fantasizing about his yet invisible erection and how he would feel in bed, makes my skin crawl with pleasure. 

Remember Jorge, my Spanish student who invited me to the Fiesta de la Vindimia, and treated me to a day of festival fun in the city of Haro?  Remember that we ended the day by serenading with other partiers on the night river?  At 1 a.m. he delivered me to my hotel, and vanished in the night, promising to return tomorrow to take me to the airport.

At 3 a.m., however, I found myself being fucked by Jorge on the sofa in my hotel room, with the rose that he gave me when he climbed into my window at 2 a.m. lying on the floor.  His thin but powerful body thrusted me deep and strong, and he kept humming in my ear the serenade I had asked him to sing for me at the river… 

… It all started when I leaned out of the hotel window, drawn by the sound of a familiar voice rising from the street below. It was him—Jorge—singing “our” song in his rich, excitedly trembling baritone. His dark hair caught the moonlight, and his silhouette swayed as he strummed an invisible guitar, crooning my favorite Spanish love song which I couldn’t quite translate but could comically imitate in Pidgeon Spanish. Then, with a grin I could see even from three stories up, he began to climb the trellis beneath my window, agile as a cat.

That meant one thing: I was being serenaded, and he was climbing up to have sex!

I stepped back, heart pounding, as he swung his leg over the sill and landed lightly in my room. He dropped to one knee, holding out a single red rose he’d clutched between his teeth during the climb. “For you, Professor,” he said, his accent thicker than usual.

I took the rose, my fingers brushing his, and as he rose to his feet, I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his soft linen trousers—his half-erect penis that I had long longed for, pressing against the soft fabric, which promised a fantastic evening to my hungry ass.

We stood there for a moment before he stepped closer. Our lips met in a deep, hungry kiss, tongues tangling, the taste of cognac and tobacco on his breath filling my mouth.  His tongue pressed on, and overcame, mine, and I had to catch my breath from the horniness that rose in me.

I tugged at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, while he hummed a faint tune—some fragment of his serenade—against my mouth. My fingers found his belt buckle, trembling as I worked it loose, brushing past the hardness lying sideways in his thin white underwear. He groaned softly, pulling my shirt over my head, and his strong hands grazed my chest as we stripped each other bare, piece by piece, until we stood there naked, breathless, and exposed.

I stepped back, my eyes dropping to his cock for the first time, and my breath caught. It hung there, thick and heavy, the head a swollen, dusky pink peeking out from a loose foreskin that slid back slightly as he hardened under my gaze. The shaft was smooth and  curving faintly upward, thickening toward the base where a dark, wiry patch of trimmed pubis framed it. His smallish balls hung low, full and slightly asymmetrical, the hairy ballsack skin tightening as his arousal grew, pulling them closer to his body. I watched, mesmerized, as his dick twitched and stiffened fully, the foreskin retracting further to reveal the dry pink tip that was already starting to ooze precum.

He pulled me close again, and we started with a slow, swaying dance—our cocks brushing together, hot and hard, sending jolts through me with every touch or slap. Then he guided my hand to his cock, urging me to stroke him as he mirrored the motion on me, our rhythms syncing until we were both panting. Finally, he turned me around, pressing himself against my back, and slid his dick between my thighs—not entering, just grinding there, slick with sweat and precum, until I begged him to take me.

Then he guided me to the bed with a tender firmness, and his hands felt warm and steady on my hips. He eased me down onto the soft, rumpled sheets. He positioned me on my side, my body curling naturally into the curve of the mattress, one leg bent slightly forward to open myself to him. The air felt charged, heavy with the scent of our sweat and the faint floral trace of the rose he’d brought. He knelt behind me, his breath uneven,  hoarse, hissing, as he aligned himself. His cock pressed against me, the slick head nudging my pleasantly aching asshole, and then he pushed in—slowly, so slowly—his slim dick stretching me with a gentle burn that made my toes curl. I could feel every inch of him as his long smooth shaft slid deeper, the foreskin fully retracted now, his pubis brushing my skin as he pushed himself fully inside me.

His first thrusts were slow, as if set to a measured rhythm like the beat of a slow flamenco—each thrust like a careful exploration, his hips rolled forward with a quiet slap against my ass. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles whitening, and his hands started roaming my body—one splaying across my chest to steady me, the other gripping my thigh to pull me closer. His breathing grew ragged, with little gasps escaping him, and then, out of nowhere, a moan broke free—a high-pitched, keening sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did me. His eyes widened for a split second, a flush creeping up his neck, before a grin flickered across his face, and the tempo shifted. The restraint melted away; his hips snapped harder, faster, the wet, rhythmic smack of skin on skin filling the room. Each thrust drove deeper, the angle and the curve being just perfect, grazing that spot inside me that sent shivers racing up my spine.

The sweet pleasure ignited in my core, the molten knot winding tighter with every push, my own cock throbbing against my stomach as I teetered on the edge of orgasm, trying not to let it hit, wishing for this pleasant heat and the friction of him moving inside me to continue at least for a while more.

My orgasm finally welled suddenly like a storm—first there was some pressure mounting in my balls, then a spark of tingling heat spread up my shaft until I couldn’t hold it back. I came hard, my cock pulsing in my hand as three invisible spurts shot across the sheets. The shaking pleasure left me dizzy and gasping.

Jorge felt me cumming, I am sure because he stopped and let me shake out the orgasm that made me moan outloud. When it released me, Jorge pulled out, flipped over me in a gymnast’s arc, and landed in front of me with the hand holding tight for foreskin pocket on his now rock-hard blood-gorged dick.  As soon as he let the foreskin go and it peeled back, his liquid semen sprayed across my face in several thin, warm salty streaks.  It was obviously the light load of a man who’d already cummed once or twice. Then he slapped my cheek playfully with his softening dick, the hot, wet weight of it smearing the liquidy cum on my slightly unshaven cheek.

… And then we collapsed together, laughing softly, the tension melting away into a warm, languid haze. He sprawled beside me, one arm flung over my chest, his breathing slowing as he traced lazy circles on my skin with his fingertips, his somewhat long finger nails grazing slightly my sweat-damp flesh. I turned my head to kiss his shoulder, tasting the salt and musk of him, and my lips lingered there until our pulses steadied.

Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Jorge propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at me, and began to sing—his voice low and husky now, and I recognized the words of an old English love song, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” “Wise men say, only fools rush in,” he crooned, his accent softening the edges of the lyrics, “but I can’t help falling in love with you.”  At that moment I felt like I heard the orchestra playing the tune outside, and there was a lot of tenderness in me at that moment for an incredible guy who, I was completely sure now, fucked me so that I wouldn’t have a lonely night, that’s it, that’s it.  Aha.

Soon we slept.

 

 

My Takeaways

Serenading is so fucking hot.  Not the singing in general, I could care the fuck less about romantic expression, and all that other bullshit; it is the knowledge that the man under the window is singing for you, and that he is thinking of how he will fuck you – right now, still invisible to you.  Serenading is even hotter when a guy is fucking you, his dick sliding in and out, and he is humming the melody into the most sensitive spot on your neck, making you scream in pleasant agony. 

The end of the story was simple: it was a one night stand of a conqueror guy who could easily find a dozen asses a night to fuck. He was just doing it for me because he caught my eye, because he heard me right when I asked him for a serenade on the boat.  In the morning he was polite but distant, and refused my advances in the shower we took together.  We kissed gently and rubbed dicks for just a second at the airport.  Now he sometimes lazily answers my FB messages, like three or four times a year.

Tatum woke to sunlight slicing through his blinds, his body still wired from last night. The memory of Lloyd’s veiny, uncut cock in his mouth, the way Lloyd’s blue eyes burned, had Tatum hard instantly. He shifted in his boxer briefs, trying to shake the image, and headed to the kitchen. Lloyd was there, leaning against the counter, sipping coffee in a towel slung low on his hips. His muscular chest glistened, dark hair trailing down his abs, the bulge beneath the towel obscene. Tatum’s pulse jumped, his own cock pressing against his briefs.

“Morning,” Lloyd said, voice low, a smirk playing on his lips. “We okay after… you know?” His eyes flicked over Tatum, searching, a hint of uncertainty beneath the confidence. Straight-guy nerves, maybe, after letting Tatum blow him on the couch.

Tatum leaned against the fridge, matching the smirk, green eyes glinting. “More than okay, man. You?” His briefs hugged his curves, and Lloyd’s gaze lingered on his ass, a fleeting thought—just horny—crossing his mind.

Lloyd chuckled, stepping closer, towel slipping to reveal more skin. “Way more than okay.” His voice dropped, eyes dark. “Shower’s free. Wanna join me?”

Tatum’s breath caught, but he nodded, heat pooling low. “Lead the way.”

They moved to the bathroom, Lloyd dropping his towel as he cranked the shower, steam curling up. His cock hung heavy, thick and uncut, already stirring. Tatum stripped his briefs, his cock springing free, thick and cut, ready for action. They stepped into the shower, water cascading over Lloyd’s muscular frame and Tatum’s lean body, the tight space forcing them close. Hands roamed—Lloyd’s fingers grazed Tatum’s hips, Tatum’s palms slid over Lloyd’s chest, their cocks brushing, electric but not yet the focus. Just raw, hungry touching, water amplifying every slide of skin.

Tatum sank to his knees, lips tracing Lloyd’s body—down his pecs, abs, skipping his cock to tease the sensitive skin around it, tongue flicking along his inner thighs. Lloyd groaned, bracing against the tiles. Tatum turned him around, hands spreading Lloyd’s firm ass, and leaned in, tongue circling his hole, slow and deliberate. Lloyd’s “Fuck” was half-shock, half-need, his body trembling as Tatum’s tongue probed deeper, drawing low moans. Tatum’s own cock throbbed, untouched, as he worked.

He stood, grinning, water dripping from his dark hair. “You good?” he teased, voice thick with lust.

Lloyd turned, eyes blazing. “My turn.” He pushed Tatum to face the wall, kneeling in the steam, hands parting Tatum’s cheeks. His tongue was bold, licking with a hunger that surprised them both, Tatum’s moans echoing as Lloyd rimmed him, confident, like he was proving a point. Tatum gripped the tiles, legs shaking, pleasure spiking.

Lloyd stood, pressing against Tatum from behind, his 9-inch cock sliding between Tatum’s cheeks. “Ready?” he growled, voice rough. Tatum nodded, pushing back, and Lloyd entered him, slow at first, then deeper, the veiny length stretching him. Tatum gasped, the burn intense but perfect. They found a rhythm, Lloyd thrusting hard, standing, water slicking their bodies. Tatum’s thick cock bobbed, untouched, as he braced against the wall.

Mid-thrust, Lloyd grabbed Tatum’s chin, turning him for their first kiss. It was electric—tongues clashing, desperate, like they’d been starving for it. The kiss pushed Tatum over the edge, his cum splattering the frosted glass door, thick and white. Lloyd groaned into the kiss, thrusting deep, unloading inside Tatum, hot and heavy.

They barely toweled off before stumbling to Tatum’s bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. Lloyd pushed Tatum face-down, spreading his ass again. He leaned in, tongue lapping at his own cum leaking from Tatum, a hungry edge to it that made Tatum moan into the sheets. Lloyd’s tongue was relentless, cleaning him out, before he climbed up, sliding his cock back in. The bed creaked, headboard slamming, as Lloyd fucked him deep, hands gripping Tatum’s hips. Tatum pushed back, meeting every thrust, his thick cock grinding into the sheets. “Harder,” he gasped, and Lloyd delivered, their bodies slick with sweat, the room thick with their moans.

Mid-thrust, Lloyd slowed, hand sliding up Tatum’s back. “Never felt anything like this,” he murmured, voice raw, almost too quiet. Tatum’s heart skipped, but he laughed it off, keeping it light. “Yeah, well, you’re not bad for a straight guy.” He clenched around Lloyd, pulling a groan, steering them back to lust.

They came again, a tangle of limbs and curses, Lloyd spilling inside Tatum, Tatum soaking the sheets. They collapsed, panting, the apartment reeking of sex. Tatum’s classes, Lloyd’s shoots—none of it mattered. It was just them, their need, their heat. But Lloyd’s words hung in the air, a crack in the haze, hinting at something Tatum wasn’t ready to face.

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Yup it’s Monday and nothing special is going on. I thought that maybe this past weekend was going to be great, but that too took a big fucking dump.I’ve been searching for someone special to hang with and possibly get intimate with too. Of course that’s not happening either, so here it is another shitty Monday.

Just a little about me and what it is that makes me tick. I’m five foot, seven inches tall, one hundred and seventy pounds, blue eyes with silver hair. I will be fifty six in three months and I’m pretty sure I’m bi sexual. What makes me think that you’re wondering, well I like dicks, cocks, man meat, or whatever else you want to call a mans penis. 

I have been experimenting almost my whole life, well since I was old enough to do so on my own. I think the first time I tried shoving anything up my ass was a pencil and it gave me the hardest cock a young boy could get.I’d go out in the barn and fondle some sheep balls which would make me hard and then I’d jack off and blow my load wherever it would land.

So yes this led me down the path of trying different things with my cock. I’d shove it in almost anything that it would fit into and pretend it was a man’s fuck hole.

Of course this led me to shoving bigger and betting things up my own hole, pretending that I was being drilled by a stud. Maybe this stud is you the reader of this story.As life progresses and I get more comfortable in my own skin it’s getting harder to keep my impulsive, cock,starved, cravings at bay. To help with this I fuck myself with an eight inch dildo. But this is only a band aid for what I really want and need to happen.I also like wearing cock rings and various other things that I find hot and exciting. 

I’ll also put in an Anal plug and wear that for a spell. At first I could only keep it in for twenty minutes or so. Now I’m up to six hours and I’d like to make it an all day event. The feeling of that in my ass makes me horny as fuck. If the right man was to hit me up I’d be on my knees in no time, doing all sorts of sexual things. 

About three weeks ago I was driving and looked down at this car that was passing me slowly. That man was jacking his cock, hard and heavy, and it happened one mile before the exit for the Lions Den in Leesburg SC.  If I hadn’t been working I would have followed him to the store. I’m almost positive that’s why he did what he did. Watching him just for a split second made my mouth water and gave me a hard on. God if only, and you know exactly what I mean.

So instead of following him, I went back to my work terminal and jacked off in the mens room blowing my load on my stomach as I leaned back on the toilet. Yes of course I had two fingers deep in my boi pussy while I climaxed, only wishing for the real thing. 

Sometimes I wish one of my coworkers would catch me in the act and maybe it’s game on. But only the ones that look delicious, there aren’t many but there’s a few that fit the bill.

Let’s play fantasy date night and you’re my date, well not quite. We, (you and I) are both married but we decided to have a men’s night out and were going to meet at a local bar for some drinks.  Of course I know you’re not gay but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t take extra care in cleaning myself, both in and out. Can’t have any residue once you pull out if you know what I mean.  Yes I did shave everything from my waist down, and I mean completely shaved. As smooth as a new baby’s butt.

So we meet and have some drinks and are having a good time chatting. Once we get a couple of them down we get more relaxed and then that’s when you start to tell me how much sex you have not been getting from your wife.I of course say that’s terrible but I’m already thinking of how I can twist this lack of sex, into your hard cock, thrusting,deep, inside of my boi pussy in about thirty minutes.

We have another round and are getting more loose by the minute and I find myself touching you on your knee. To my shock you are not even pulling away from my touch, in fact the more I touch you the more you get aroused.

One more drink and I’ve got you in my power, we finished it fast and decided to leave and on the way out you grab my ass and say, wow that’s a firm ass. Yes it is babe, the word just came out and I looked at you and you say back yes babe it is and come in for a kiss. I don’t resist you at all as our mouths and tongues probe each other.

I pull back and ask what’s the plan? Well there’s a hotel just around the corner, if you’re into what I’m thinking. Yes absolutely, I’ll drive and you ride shotgun. In the short drive you had kept your hands to yourself but I could tell that you had been rubbing your cock through your pants making it hard.I booked the room and paid cash, you went into the side door and we went up to the room.

As soon as the door shut we practically tore each other’s clothes off. We looked at each other’s naked bodies and we both had a hard on for each other.   This is going to be one night we won’t forget I said as I went to my knees to suck his cock.  He moaned as I bobbed up and down on his cock. Man he was large, I almost couldn’t fit his cock in my mouth. I pulled off and said, God your wife must be huge in order for that to fit in her pussy. 

Nope, she complains a little that it hurts when we fuck. She says I’m too big and that is one of the reasons why we don’t have more sex. Well I’ve got a cure for that as I turned around and laid on my stomach on the bed. I tossed him a condom and spread my ass cheeks for him. Go slowly at first then we’ll see what we can do.

He put it on and came over to me and laid on top of me. Ok now line your cock head and fuck me, he did as I wanted him to and slid in real slow. God he was huge as my rectum was being spread wide open and it was painful.

Hold up and give me a little bit, hold still please. He did and as he laid on me with his cock at least an inch or two in me the pain subsided. Ok now keep going slowly, he did and the further he went in the more pleasurable it got. 

I did not tell him what to do after he got all the way in, he already knew. The sure pleasure of his monster cock fucking me was exactly what I needed and man was he good.

He fucked me like he had fucked a guy before and I loved every damn minute. Pull out all the way please and then push back in hard and fast. He did and slammed me all the way to his balls smacked my ass skin.

Fuck yeah, fuck me you stud as I moaned, pull out and lay on your back. He did and I mounted him, I wanted to see his face as I impaled myself onto his cock.

Oh my God he said as I lowered myself down until I rested completely on him. I leaned back and put my hands on his legs and began to buck up and down on his shaft. I did this for a thirty count and then came back up and laid on his chest. He fucked me more as we kissed and then it happened. He began to cum deep in my hole, I didn’t mind because I knew he had a condom on, but when he pulled out his seed flowed freely from my ass. 

Hell it didn’t matter anyway as we switched positions so he could suck my cock. He paused for a second as he looked up and said. I always wondered what this would be like, between fucking and sucking a man and now I know. 

He continued sucking me until I cummed, he didn’t swallow but instead just let my cum run down his fingers into the bed. Fuck that was fantastic he said as he squeezed my cock until the cum stopped coming out. 

Now what do we do, well we get ourselves cleaned up and go back to our lives as married men. But what about this? what happens next? So we pretend that nothing happened but in secret we fuck whenever we can, if you want to? Hell yeah, I can’t get her to fuck me and your ass is oh so tight and fuckable. I said sounds like a plan as we left and I took him back to the bar.

I’ll be in contact really soon I said as he was leaving my car. In fact I’ll be in contact with myself later on after my wife goes to sleep. I was thinking as I drove home.So this in a nutshell is my desire and this story is part real and the sex part fantasy with hopes of making it come true.     

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Maybe you can leave me a comment and tell me what you think! Thanks 

You’ve taken me to life

-Dad, I wanna suck your cock.

-What? -at those unexpected words from my son, I had got totally hard- Maybe I didn’t hear you well, Chuck.

-I just told you that I would like to suck your cock. I was jacking off in bed last night and thought it could be fun.

-I didn’t know you were gay, Chuck.

In fact my son, Chuck Napier, 30 now, had never had a girlfriend that I know of. He’s at present a lawyer but still lives with me.

I’m Gus Napier and I’m 50 now. Never have I had a good job and at present I’m employed in a farm, milking the cows and more things.

-I’m not gay, dad. I just love what I would call challenging sex. I’ve had some fuck buddies and whenever I had sex with Liza, one of them, she praised my ass as I fucked her but one day she told me she’d like to spank me. As all I want is the girl’s fun, I nodded and told her she could. Well, I ended up that day with real pain in my ass and it was totally red and it kept hurting me for some days. Since that day I love being sexually challenged.

-But what does that have to do with what you’ve just told me?

-Look, dad, I’ve already sucked a cock. One other day my friend Alan, who’s gay by the way, told me that he wanted to suck my cock, but I should also do it to him. I thought that I could at least give it a try, for I wanted to experience something new and really challenging. And I can tell you that the thrill of a challenge made me really enjoy the taste of Alan’s dick. And I was rewarded later with a superb blowjob, better than all the blowjobs I’ve had from girls. And that day I said to myself that challenges turn me on a lot and if someone would ever suggest me, I’d suck more cocks.

My dick was getting higher and higher as I heard him, couldn’t help it.

-And since doing things that can be considered difficult is what turns me on most, I was last night thinking what could now make me horniest? And the thought came to me of sucking my father’s cock. I already know the taste of a dick and this would be the most exciting thing I’ve done in my life.

-Look, Chuck -I addressed my son now-, you can see I’m not easily shocked for hearing my son comfortably talking to me of the sex he’s already had. But I’m your father, for God’s sake. You can talk to me of anything you want, even tell me that you’ve already masturbated thinking you’ve sucked your own father’s dick, but let’s not go further.

-Don’t you like blowjobs, dad?

-Of course I love them, Chuck, and I haven’t had one for ten years, since your mother left me and that’s why I have got incorrectly hard.

-Something sweet dad. For you it would be the fun of getting a blowjob again after such a long time and for me it would be doing something so arousing that I can spend years just jacking off at the memory that I did suck my own father’s dick.

-I appreciate what you’re saying, Chuck, but I can’t easily nod to that, understand me, please, I’m your father, just let me think about it.

We’d had this conversation on a Saturday morning. I couldn’t help but being all day hard for I knew that it would be as easy as nodding and I’d have a blowjob that very day and I so desired it! So after lunch I took a decision while he was watching a movie.

-Chuck, I’ve decided that I can let you suck my cock, but…

Instantly I saw my son going rock hard.

-Perfect, dad.

-I haven’t finished. Look, Chuck, I’m desperate to have a blowjob again and I can see it would even be pleasant for you, but I can only do it if I also suck your cock, now you know. So now you decide.

-Perfect, dad, so whip your cock out. I’ll be first since it was me that had this idea.

I was carried away by a greatest lust, so much that I couldn’t think with my brain then, but with my cock, so I instantly took my dick out and standing as I was I approached my dick to Chuck’s mouth, who so naturally that it aroused me more, took it in and started to suck my cock with greed and a face of total lust.

-Thanks, Chuck, you’re such a wonderful son.

-Do you like it, dad? Am I being good?

-So good that I’m cumming! Sorry I was so fast.

He drank all my semen and next he told me.

-You were so surprised that you’ve cum too soon, but that can be solved easily. We’ll soon have a second round, I promise. I’ll give you soon a second blowjob. Your dick tastes so damn good!

-Now I’ll be the one sucking your cock, Chuck. Oh, you’ve taken me to life with your original proposal today. I’m lustful now but really desiring a second round, so you’ll also have two blowjobs, I promise. Come on, I’ll suck yours now, take it out.

Chuck did take his dick out, a long and arousing dick, I suddenly saw. And since we were actually having sex with each other I allowed myself to get hard at my son’s cock. I just knelt down and took it in my mouth.

I had thought that I would only enjoy the blowjob Chuck wanted to give me and I would only suck his cock too cause it would be fair, but I wasn’t prepared for such a hot taste, for such a discovery. As I was sucking his cock, I realized this is the sex I should have had for years. After now nothing could excite me more than a dick, better if it was always Chuck’s dick. I shuddered when I thought we would have, as he had said, a second round, and I still could suck that scrumptious dick a second time. Now I only wanted to have it in my mouth.

Chuck meanwhile was moaning and that erotic sound was driving me crazy and he sweated as if in fever. Oh, how I loved the sweetness of having sex with my son, whom I regarded now as the sexiest person I’ve ever had sex with. Different from me, it took him almost a quarter of an hour to cum and when at last he did, I had a new arousing experience, and it was tasting semen.

-Wonderful sex we’ve had, my sexy Chuck, I can only thank you.

-Good, dad, and you cannot know how I love you now. We can wait now for your dick to recover and before lunch, we’ll have an exciting second round. It was a challenge at first but later it has become the most pleasant thing I’ve done in sex.

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“Hey you, we have to go, we’re supposed to meet the guys in 10 minutes.” Ky said as I was sitting at the desk naked doing research on my computer

“Oh shit, sorry!  I just got caught up in this.  What time is it?”  I asked

“Just get some clothes on and let’s go!”   Ky said, as he sat on his bed and pulled his sneakers on.  Last time I looked over at him he was laid out on my bed naked, studying.

It seemed like just a few minutes ago that Ky had gotten off his bed and walked over to me at the desk with is cock in hand.  I quickly recognized the drip of piss forming on the head of Ky’s cock, and knew I was about to drink the most delicious piss from the man I now called my boyfriend.   So I lifted Ky’s soft cock to my mouth and set it just inside my lips.  The warm stream started immediately, and as I closed my lips around the bulbous head of Ky’s cock, I drank everything Ky could give me.   He had done the same for me a couple hours earlier. 

When we finally got to the bar there were about 6 guys already at the table.  I recognized Chris of course and one other guy. That was Mike from my Bio Lab, the one that Bobby made me drain his piss last week.  There were already 3 pitchers of beer on the table and some empty mugs, so Ky poured us both a beer and we sat down next to each other. 

Chris was going over where we were biking, how long, and what the terrain would be like.  They gave us a summary of what we needed to bring with us, and the site we hope to be camping at that night. 

“Make sure to bring plenty of water, and whatever else you want to drink, oh yea, and plenty of lube!”  Chris laughed as did everyone else.   

The 3 pictures of beer were soon empty, as beers were going down fast with 8 thirsty guys drinking it.  I got up and went to grab two of the empty pitchers to get them refilled when Ky stopped me. 

“It’s recycle time boys!”  Ky said, and they all looked around at the empty pictures and mugs. 

It became quite evident that they had done this before.   Just as Ky said that each guy took his mug and put it under the table.  Zippers unzipped and the sound of fresh flowing piss in mugs could be heard.     I quickly followed their lead, but the sound of everyone pissing made my own cock chub.   And even though my cock was more that semi hard, I filled my mug easily. 

“Just put them in the center of the table and grab any mug!”  Ky told me as he got up, and grabbed himself another mug filled with someone else’s piss.

The night went long, and between the pictures of beer, and the mugs of piss I was getting drunk.  I do remember at one point Mike taking an empty picture and putting it under the table and when his bladder was empty he passed it to Chris.  When it finally appeared again it was full, with a nice white frothy head.     Even Peter came out from behind the bar with an empty mug and filled his to the top and chugged it right in front of us.  As we all hooted and cheered.   

We planned to meet at 6:00 AM on Saturday with our bikes and gear loaded and ready to go.  Ky and I decided to drive up in my car.  So with the bikes and gear loaded, we left the dorm and headed up to Chris’s place about half an hour away.   We stopped and got two large coffee’s and got there just a little after 6.

It wasn’t long after that that we were all on our way to the trail.  There were 3 cars including ours, and we were on the highway headed north.   Ky was unusually quiet, but it was still early, and he was still nursing his coffee.   But once we got on the highway, Ky perked up and directed me to pull in front of everyone.  And as I started overtaking the other two cars, Ky started to strip, and when I pulled in front of Chris, Ky’s shirt went out the window, then his shorts came off, and they too went out the window.  And then he just sat there, naked looking at me. 

“Well!”  He said as I was going 65 MPH down the highway. 

“I’m not taking off my clothes while I’m driving.  Plus the fact, this is all I brought, I don’t have anything else to wear.”   I told him

“Who fucking cares, that was all I brought too, so get fucking naked.”  He said, and reached over to grab the wheel as I pulled my T-shirt over my head and flung it out of the window.  

My shorts were trickier, but soon they were gone as well.  When we were done, Ky just put his feet up on the dashboard, and we continued down the highway.  But soon Chris passed us, taking the lead again, which was good because I had no idea where we were going.   And shortly after that, a T-shirt came out of both sides of Chris’s car, then short, and then a pair of underwear flew out of the passenger side.  

“This is going to be quite interesting if anyone needs to stop for gas!”  I laughed as I finished my last sip of coffee.  

And I guess not to be out done, Mike’s car flew by us, and once again clothes were flying out the windows.   I’d never ridden my bike, driven, or really been outside naked, this was going to be a fucking blast.  

About 20 minutes later Ky grabbed my empty coffee cup and filled it up with piss.  He took a few pulls and passed it to me, which I too took a few long drinks of his hot piss, but all to quick the cup was empty.  That was until I filled it up, and we passed it back and forth again. 

The trail was just off the highway, with a large parking lot next to a river.   We found parking spaces together, and we all got out to get our bikes and gear out of the car.   Each one of us was completely naked except for shoes, and we all hustled around the cars getting ready to take off. 

Chris looked hot naked, his body was tight, with a slightly hairy chest and as I already knew a very nice long cut dick.  Paul, who was riding with Chris was really tall, wavy dark hair and blue eyes that made you want to cum when he looked at you.  He had a slight beard, and his cock and balls were well hung below his nicely trimmed pubic mound.  I’m just hoping I get to taste all his dick juice.  

Mike from my Chem Lab, whose piss I guzzled down last week, was taller than Paul, and had the longest legs.  He looked naturally hairless, except for the mound of brown hair that surrounded his uncut cock and balls.   He didn’t trim or shave, but he was fucking handsome as hell.  I’d bend over the car right now to get him to fuck me right here in the parking lot. 

But it was Erin that made my cock stiffen when he got out of the car with Mike.  He looked just like Prince Harry with the mop of reddish all over his head, a nicely trimmed beard, and the smile that everyone wants to cum across.   His package was completely clean, not a hair in site.  Just a big cock, and two balls that swung wildly as he walked.  

We definitely got a few stares from the other hikers, though there weren’t a lot around.  So with knapsacks and sleeping bags secured to our back, we all mounted our bikes and rode along the trail by the river.   Believe me it was difficult at first, and if I’m being honest, a little painful, with my balls splitting apart, and wedged between your cock and the bike seat.   But soon the freedom of it all made me forget the pain and just enjoy the beauty of the ride.   We rode for hours, passing by hikers and other bikers, and to my surprise we were not the only ones without clothes.   

After a long ride we locked our bikes up to a tree, Chris took us along a trail through the woods for about 10 minutes to a spot he thought would be great for lunch and a rest. We walked until we came upon this open green space, with a small waterfall flowing into a pond and down the river.   It was a race to see who could dump their gear, shed their sneakers, and get in the water first.  

The water was fucking cold!!  I screamed when I surfaced and swam towards the edge to get out as fast as I could.  Ky was right behind me, and we both fell on the grass next to each other.   We were shivering uncontrollably we were so cold.   Then suddenly Ky rolled over on top of me and he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.  I did the same and felt the warmth of our body heat taking part of the deep chill away.   I kissed him hard, and I could feel his response as his cock start to grow between us. 

I was warming up quickly when Ky got up and kneeled between my legs.  His cock was semi hard, as he took hold of the base and started to piss all over my stomach.   The heat of his piss felt so good, as he moved his cock up and down and from side to side as he pissed all over me.   I opened my mouth, and he knew what I wanted, as he angled his cock, and his piss stream quickly flooded my mouth before I could swallow. 

My cock was so fucking hard, but I had to piss bad.  With all the coffee, water, and recycling all the piss in the car, I suddenly realized that neither of us had emptied our bladder since we left school.   My heavy stream of piss shot up between Ky and me hitting him in the face.   He leaned back, so he could get his mouth over the arch of the hot stream and soon he was sucking down my piss as well. 

As we both were draining each other’s full bladders suddenly we were getting pissed on from all around.  Piss was raining down from everywhere, as all the guys aimed there cocks right at us.  We both reacted at the same time and quickly got on our knees and attached our mouth to the closest pissing cock and drank it down.  We stayed on our knees until each of the guy’s cocks were completely drained of piss. 

The ride up the rest of the trail was spectacular, I’d almost forgotten that I was naked until you would ride by some hikers, or bikers that would just stare at us as we drove by.  We actually got some whistles from a few girls, and a couple of guys. 

The site Chris had planned for us to set up camp was just off the path.   He had a huge tent which fit all our sleeping bags.  It was going to be tight, but there’s nothing hotter than 8 naked, horny guys in a tent.  Chris set us all up with chores, Ky and I were to get rocks to build a fire pit, while Mike and Erin went in search of firewood. 

The rocks took some time, but soon we had a fire in no time and Chris was cooking up a nice meal.  So, we all sat around drinking beer and talking about the ride.  

“Okay, so who got hard riding up here?”  Paul asked

“I wasn’t completely hard, but I definitely leaked about a gallon of pre-cum.”  Mike said

“You always leak, look at your cock, there’s a long string of cum oozing out of your cock right now!”  Paul said, and when Mike looked down, he took his index finger, scooped up the goo leaking from his cock and licked it off his finger.  

“Now that’s what I call an organic appetizer.”  Chris said and we all laughed. 

“Are you making us your special organic chicken again?”  Erin asked, and everyone seemed excited about the idea. 

“If that’s what you guys want, but I’m going to need some help.”  Chris said. 

Paul got up and walked over to Chris as I glanced at Ky with a questioning look.   I watched as Paul got on his knees and took Chris’s soft cock into his mouth and started blowing him.   Chris’s cock grew quickly as it plunged in and out of Paul’s mouth, and so did mine just watching them.   

But then suddenly Paul pulled off Chris’ cock and Chris began stroking his cock, until he came all over the chicken.  Rope after rope of his thick white cum splattered all over as he jerked and directed his cock to coat each piece. 

“Fuck!”  I said as my cock leaked pre-cum and my balls burned for release. 

“Ok, Alex since you’re the new guy, we need some of your yellow nectar for the corn.”  Chris said to me as he stood by the stove, with his cock now only half hard. 

“How do I do that?”  I said as I stood up and walked over towards him. 

“Just soak all the ears of corn with piss.  Then we wrap them in foil and cook them on the grill.”  Chris explained. 

 I don’t know if it was because we were all starved, or our bodily fluids, but the meal was wonderful.  The corn had a creamy salty taste, and the chicken was crispy with a hint of cum.   And by the time we were done the sun had set and the only light was from the fire pit illuminated our camp. 

Of course, the beers were going down fast, and with a group of horny piss lovers, you know we recycled every ounce. And since I was the new guy, I was the urinal for the night.  So whenever someone had to piss, they just got up, walked up to me, and put there cock in my mouth, and I drank it right down. Consequently, I had to piss often and a lot, since I was drinking the piss of 7 other guys, along with the beers I was drinking.  So, they all took turns draining my bladder.    

Then, I don’t know who it was suggested but we started playing Truth or Dare.  Which I had never really played before. But luckily, I wasn’t asked the first question.  Chris started with a truth or dare from KY.

“So Ky, truth or dare?”  Chris asked

“Oh truth for sure dude”  Ky answered smartly

“Okay, have you ever had sex with your brothers?”  He asked and we all looked at Ky.

“Fuck yea, even the straight one.”  Ky answered immediately. 

It was Ky’s turn, and he decided to ask Paul ….truth of dare?

Paul choose a truth, just like Ky, so I can’t imagine what would happen if you chose dare.

“Paul have you ever made yourself a cum cocktail?”  Ky asked.

“a cum cocktail?”  Paul questioned

“Yea, you piss in a glass, then beat off, and dump your load in piss, and drink it”  Ky explained.

“Um is taking a load off a guy, and then drinking his piss count?”  Paul asked

“No, it has to be together in one glass.”

“Then no, I haven’t had the pleasure yet!” Paul answered

Paul asked Mike another truth if he had ever tried to blow himself.

“Yes, and I was quite successful!”  Mike answered, all of us hooting and whistling

Then Mike asked me Truth or Dare.  As I said I had never played the game, so didn’t really know what a dare would be, so I said DARE!

Ky looked at me, as everyone else was going crazy.  

“Guys, guys, he’s never played before.”  Ky explained “This is his first time, let’s give him the truth.” 

“Fuck that, he said dare!”  Everyone shouted. 

Oh fuck, what did I just get myself into!

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The drive home felt different. Mark rolled down the window, letting the cool, washed air flood the cab. The scent of wet asphalt and pine replaced oil and desperation. He flexed his hand on the steering wheel, feeling the ghost pressure of Liam’s grip. Just you. The words echoed, stripping away six years of careful distance. He passed Rosie’s Diner. The booth by the window was empty, just chrome and red vinyl under the buzzing sign. No phantom singer. Just rain-streaked glass reflecting his own tired eyes. He didn’t slow down.

Liam’s porch light was a lone beacon when Mark arrived the next morning. The storm had scrubbed the sky clean, leaving it pale blue and sharp. Liam answered the door in faded jeans and nothing else, hair damp, smelling of soap and coffee. No words. He pulled Mark inside, the door clicking shut behind them. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, catching dust motes dancing in the air. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore; it hummed.

Liam pressed him against the wall, hands mapping Mark’s shoulders like reclaiming territory. “No ghosts here,” he murmured against Mark’s throat, voice thick with sleep and certainty. Mark tangled his fingers in Liam’s hair, pulling him closer. Outside, a sparrow chirped. Monday could wait.

They moved to the couch, an old plaid thing sagging under their weight. Liam straddled Mark’s lap, calloused palms framing his face. The kiss was slow, deliberate — no storm-fueled frenzy now, just heat building like an engine warming up. Mark’s hands slid down Liam’s back, tracing the ridge of his spine, the old scar near his hip from a wrench slip years ago.

Liam shuddered, grinding down, the friction rough through denim. “Jenkins called,” he breathed, breaking the kiss. “Haul’s pushed to noon.”

Mark nipped Liam’s lower lip. “Plenty of time.” Liam’s laugh vibrated against him. “Roof leak first.” But he didn’t move.

Sunlight glinted off the torque wrench abandoned on Liam’s cluttered coffee table. Mark reached past it, snagging a half-eaten Snickers bar. He broke off a piece, pressed it to Liam’s lips. Liam took it, tongue brushing Mark’s thumb.

“Smitty’s recipe,” Mark said softly.

Liam stilled, then swallowed. “Too damn sweet.” But his eyes held no shadows, only a flicker of wry fondness. He captured Mark’s wrist, licking the melted chocolate from his skin. The taste — salty, sweet, Liam — seared Mark’s nerves. Outside, a truck rumbled past. The world kept turning. Here, in the sun-drenched clutter, time stretched. Liam’s hips rolled again, insistent. Mark’s groan was swallowed by another kiss.

They shed jeans in a tangle of limbs. Skin met skin, sun-warm where the light slanted across the couch. Mark traced the scar on Liam’s hip — a pale ridge against tan. “Wrench slip?” he murmured, remembering the bloodied rag, Liam’s gritted teeth.

“Engine block won,” Liam corrected, breath catching as Mark’s thumb circled the old wound. His hand slid lower, calluses scraping Mark’s thigh. “Stop stalling.” He guided Mark’s palm firmly between his legs. Heat, hardness, the slick proof of want. Mark’s own arousal surged in answer. No ghosts. Just this pulse, this need echoing between them.

Mark pushed him back onto the cushions. Liam went willingly, eyes heavy-lidded, watching. Sunlight gilded the dust motes swirling above them. Mark knelt between Liam’s spread thighs, taking him in slowly. Sight, scent, taste — salt, musk, the faint tang of soap. Liam arched, a choked sound escaping. His fingers fisted in Mark’s hair, not pushing, anchoring. Mark set a relentless rhythm, hollowing his cheeks. Above him, Liam’s breathing fractured into ragged gasps. The old couch springs creaked. A shaft of sunlight burned across Liam’s clenched abdomen, highlighting the tremor in his muscles.

“Mark —” Liam’s voice was wrecked. His hips jerked, losing control. Mark pressed deeper, swallowing him whole. Liam cried out, back bowing off the cushions, fingers tightening painfully in Mark’s hair. Release shuddered through him, hot and pulsing. Mark held him until the tremors subsided, until Liam’s grip loosened to a trembling caress. Sunlight warmed the sweat on Liam’s chest as he gasped, staring at the ceiling like he’d forgotten it existed.

Mark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting salt and Liam. He crawled up the length of Liam’s body, settling over him. Their foreheads touched. Liam’s eyes, dazed and clear, met his. “No ghosts,” Liam whispered, tracing Mark’s jawline. “Just you.” He rolled them sideways, pinning Mark into the sun-warmed cushions. His kiss was slow, thorough, tasting himself on Mark’s tongue. “My turn.”

He slid down, lips trailing fire across Mark’s stomach. Mark arched, fingers twisting in the worn plaid fabric. Liam’s mouth was relentless — hot, wet suction followed by the scrape of teeth that made Mark curse. Outside, a lawnmower sputtered to life somewhere down the street. The mundane sound anchored them. Liam hummed, the vibration shooting straight to Mark’s core. “Close?” he murmured against Mark’s hipbone.

“Fuck, yes,” Mark gritted out. Liam took him deeper, hand working in tandem. The rhythm was merciless. Mark’s vision whited out. He came with Liam’s name torn from his throat, body shuddering as Liam drank him down, swallowing every pulse.

Afterward, they lay tangled, sticky and spent. Sunlight pooled on the floorboards. Liam traced the scar on Mark’s shoulder — a souvenir from a snapped fan belt years back. “Still an idiot,” he murmured, but his thumb lingered tenderly on the raised flesh.

Mark caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to Liam’s grease-stained knuckles. “Learned from the best.” Outside, Jenkins’ horn blared — impatient, demanding. Liam groaned, burying his face in Mark’s neck. “Five more minutes.”

They dressed quickly, the easy silence broken only by zippers and the rustle of fabric. Liam tossed Mark a cleanish flannel shirt smelling faintly of motor oil. “For the roof.” As Mark pulled it on, Liam’s gaze snagged on the faded tattoo peeking from his sleeve — Smitty’s unit insignia, inked after the funeral. Liam’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “He’d call us sentimental bastards,” he said quietly.

Mark buttoned the cuff. “He’d be right.” He grabbed the toolbox.

On the roof, the midday sun baked the shingles. Liam pointed to the warped patch near the chimney. “There’s the bastard.” They worked side-by-side, shoulders brushing, passing tar and flashing. Jenkins honked again. Liam flipped him off without turning.

Below, Jenkins leaned out his truck window. “Romantic getaway’s over, princesses! Load’s waiting!”

Liam shot Mark a look — half-exasperation, half-private amusement. He hammered the last nail home with a sharp, final thwack. The warped shingle lay flush now, sealed under fresh tar. “Done,” he called down, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Jenkins grunted, already reversing his rig toward the waiting flatbed loaded with steel pipes. “About damn time! Move your asses!”

They climbed down the ladder, the July sun baking their necks. Mark tossed the toolbox into the bed of Liam’s Chevy. As they pulled out onto the highway, dust swirling behind them, Liam reached across the bench seat. His calloused fingers interlaced with Mark’s. No words. Just the steady vibration of the road beneath them and the press of thumb against knuckle.

The haul site was chaos — forklifts beeping, foremen shouting over the clang of metal. They backed the flatbed into position. Liam jumped down, already barking orders to the dock crew. Mark watched him for a moment — the set of his shoulders, the way his voice cut through the noise without strain. No haunted vacancy. Just focus. Purpose. When Liam turned, catching Mark’s gaze, a flicker of warmth passed between them, swift as lightning but just as bright.

Unloading was brutal work. Steel pipes glinted under the sun, radiating heat. Sweat soaked through their shirts within minutes. Liam hefted a long section onto his shoulder, muscles corded. Mark mirrored him, the weight biting into his collarbone. They moved in sync toward the storage racks, boots crunching on gravel. Halfway there, Liam stumbled — a loose stone twisting underfoot. Mark lunged, free hand slamming against Liam’s back, steadying him. The pipe didn’t fall. Their eyes locked over the burdened steel. Liam’s nod was curt, grateful. “Watch your step,” Mark muttered, knuckles brushing Liam’s spine as they straightened. Jenkins watched from the cab of his idling truck, chewing tobacco, eyes narrowed.

The foreman’s whistle shrilled. Break time. They slumped against the flatbed’s hot metal flank, gulping tepid water from canteens. Jenkins ambled over, boots kicking up dust. He spat a stream of tobacco juice near Mark’s boot. “Slow today, boys. Dreamin’ about each other’s asses instead of work?” His grin was predatory.

Liam stiffened, knuckles white around his canteen. Mark kept his voice flat, eyes on the horizon. “Pipe’s loaded. On schedule.”

Jenkins chuckled, low and grating. He leaned in, the sour stench of tobacco thick. “Schedule’s mine. And I say you two need … motivation.” His gaze lingered on Liam’s sweat-darkened shirt, then Mark’s grease-streaked forearms. “Finish by three. Or I dock pay. Both of you.” He turned, whistling tunelessly as he strode toward the office shack.

The heat intensified. Silence stretched between them, thick as tar. Liam crushed his empty canteen. “Motivation,” he spat, the word venomous.

Mark watched Jenkins disappear inside the shack’s shaded doorway. “He wants a reaction.”

Liam’s laugh was harsh. “He wants control. Always has.” He shoved off the flatbed. “Let’s finish this.” The pipes seemed heavier now, the sun hotter. They worked faster, shoulders bumping in silent coordination. Sweat stung Mark’s eyes. Every clang of steel echoed Jenkins’ threat. When Liam grunted under the weight of a thick pipe, Mark slid his grip lower, taking half the burden. Their hands brushed — a quick, grounding press. Jenkins watched from the shack window, face unreadable.

The last pipe slammed into the rack at 2:58. Liam wiped his face with his sleeve, chest heaving. Mark leaned against the rack, watching Jenkins emerge. The foreman checked his watch, then spat. “Cutting it fine.” He tossed a clipboard at Liam. “Sign-off.” Liam scrawled his name, knuckles tight. Jenkins snatched it back. “Next load’s at the depot. Move.” He turned away but paused. “And boys?” His voice dropped, icy. “Keep the locker room shit off my site. Or find new jobs.”

Heat flashed in Liam’s eyes. Mark stepped forward, blocking his view. “Depot address?” he asked, tone flat. Jenkins smirked, rattling off directions.

As he walked off, Liam kicked a stray bolt. It skittered across the gravel. “He knows,” he muttered.

Mark gripped Liam’s shoulder. “Let him.”

They loaded the flatbed in silence. The drive to the depot was tense, windows down, wind whipping through the cab. Liam’s jaw never relaxed. At a red light, Mark reached over, thumb rubbing circles on Liam’s thigh. Liam exhaled, shoulders loosening.

“Your place after?” Mark asked.

Liam nodded, eyes on the road. “Yeah. With tools.”

The depot was a maze of chain-link and diesel fumes. They backed into Bay 7. As Mark jumped down, a burly loader with grease-blackened nails eyed Liam. “Heard Jenkins chewed you out.” Liam ignored him, unclipping straps. The loader grinned. “Bet he’s right. Saw you two at Rosie’s last week. Looked cozy.”

Liam froze. Mark slid between them. “Load’s ready. Where’s your foreman?”

The loader’s smile vanished. “Inside.” He jerked his thumb toward a steel door.

As he walked off, Liam slammed a fist against the flatbed. “Goddamn vultures.”

Mark caught his wrist. “Ignore it.” He pulled Liam close, voice low. “Tonight. Just us.”

Liam’s breath hitched. He nodded, pressing his forehead to Mark’s. “Tools first,” he managed.

Mark grinned. “Always.”

The depot foreman was a slab-faced man named Briggs. He waved them toward a mountain of crated engine blocks without a word. The loader smirked as they passed. “Cozy,” he muttered again, loud enough to carry.

Liam’s shoulders tightened, but Mark steered him forward. “Eyes on the prize,” he murmured.

The crates were heavy, awkward. They fell into their rhythm — lift, pivot, stack. Sweat soaked through their shirts within minutes. Mark’s muscles burned, but the work was clean, physical. A distraction. Beside him, Liam moved with focused intensity, jaw clenched, channeling the anger into each lift. The loader watched, arms crossed, leaning against a forklift.

Halfway through, Briggs reappeared. “Faster,” he barked, tapping his watch. “This ain’t a spa day.”

Liam shot him a glare but didn’t slow. As they maneuvered a particularly bulky crate, the loader deliberately nudged a pallet jack into their path. Liam stumbled. The crate tilted. Mark lunged, shoulder slamming into the wood to steady it, his hand gripping Liam’s arm hard. The loader chuckled.

“Clumsy today, huh?” he drawled.

Liam wrenched free of Mark’s grip. He took one step toward the loader, eyes blazing. “Got something to say?” His voice was dangerously low.

The loader straightened, grin fading. Briggs stepped between them. “Knock it off! You,” he jabbed a finger at the loader, “get back to Bay 3. You two,” he turned to Mark and Liam, “finish this load. Now.”

Silence descended, thick and charged. They worked faster, the crates slamming onto the pallet with jarring force. Mark watched Liam’s profile — the tight line of his mouth, the fury simmering just beneath the surface. When the last crate was stacked, Briggs grunted approval and walked away.

Liam wiped sweat from his eyes with a shaking hand. “Tools,” he said, the word clipped. “Now.”

They drove back to Liam’s in taut silence. The setting sun painted the sky bruised purple and orange. Inside the garage, Liam slammed the door shut. He didn’t turn on the light. In the dim twilight filtering through dusty windows, he grabbed Mark’s shoulders, spinning him around. His kiss was fierce, demanding — tasting of dust, diesel, and fury. Mark met it, pushing back, hands tangling in Liam’s shirt.

“Tools,” Mark gasped against Liam’s mouth.

Liam pulled back slightly, breathing ragged. His eyes burned in the gloom. “Later.” He shoved Mark towards the workbench. “Right now, I need you to make me forget.” He yanked Mark’s shirt open, buttons scattering. “Make it loud.”

Mark didn’t hesitate. He spun Liam, pinning him face-first against the cool metal surface. Tools rattled. Mark’s mouth found the sweat-damp nape of Liam’s neck, biting hard enough to draw a sharp gasp. Hands fumbled with belts, denim shoved roughly down hips. Liam braced himself, knuckles white on the bench edge. “Do it,” he growled, pushing back.

Mark pressed close, skin against skin, heat flaring where they connected. He slid a hand around Liam’s waist, gripping him firmly. “Forget what?” he murmured, low and rough against Liam’s ear. “The loader? Jenkins?” His other hand traced down Liam’s spine, possessive.

“Everything,” Liam choked out. “Just fuck me, Mark.”

Mark obliged. Hard. Deep. A driving rhythm that slammed Liam against the bench with every thrust. Metal groaned beneath them. Liam’s curses dissolved into ragged moans, fingers scrambling for purchase on the oily surface. Mark’s grip tightened, holding him steady, anchoring him in the brutal, physical now. Sweat stung their eyes. The scent of grease and exertion filled the air.

Liam arched, a strangled cry tearing loose as release hit him, shuddering through muscle and bone. Mark followed seconds later, burying his face in Liam’s shoulder, teeth sinking into taut muscle as his own climax ripped through him. They slumped against the bench, breathing harshly in the cooling dark.

Silence settled, thick but different now – charged with spent energy instead of tension. Liam slumped forward, forehead pressed to the cool metal bench. Mark braced himself above him, catching his breath, feeling the tremors still running through Liam’s frame. The sharp scent of sex mingled with oil and dust. Slowly, Mark eased back, his hand lingering on the sweat-slicked curve of Liam’s hip. Liam didn’t move immediately, just breathed, deep and ragged.

Finally, Liam pushed himself upright, turning. His eyes in the gloom were dark pools, the fury banked but not gone. He reached out, fingers brushing the fresh bite mark on Mark’s shoulder. “Loud enough?” His voice was raw.

Mark caught his wrist, pulling him close. “Forget?” he asked quietly.

Liam leaned into him, resting his forehead against Mark’s collarbone. “Not yet.” He pulled back, grabbing his discarded shirt. “Tools.”

They worked under the single bulb Liam flicked on. The warped roof beam near the back wall groaned under their inspection. Liam traced a crack with a grimy finger. “Foundation shifted,” he muttered. “Years ago.” They measured, cut thick replacement lumber. The rasp of the saw echoed in the quiet garage. Mark held the beam steady while Liam drove heavy lag bolts through the new support into the old frame. Each hammer blow was sharp, final. Dust motes danced in the yellow light.

Liam wiped sweat from his brow, surveying their work. “Should hold.” He tossed the hammer onto the bench. It landed with a clatter. Outside, crickets chirped. The air felt cooler now, cleaner.

Mark grabbed two beers from the battered fridge. He popped the tops, handing one to Liam. They leaned against the workbench, shoulders brushing. The cold bite of the beer cut through the garage’s lingering heat. Liam took a long pull, eyes fixed on the reinforced beam. “Solid,” he murmured, condensation dripping onto his wrist.

Outside, headlights swept across the driveway. A car door slammed. Footsteps approached the side door. Liam tensed, setting his bottle down hard. Mark placed a steadying hand on his forearm. The knock was sharp, impatient.

Liam yanked the door open. Jenkins stood there, silhouetted against the porch light, face unreadable. “Forgot the depot paperwork,” he said, voice flat. His gaze slid past Liam, taking in the tools scattered across the bench, the fresh lumber, Mark’s untucked shirt. A slow smirk spread. “Busy night?”

Liam blocked the doorway. “Paperwork’s in the truck. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Jenkins didn’t move. His eyes lingered on the bite mark visible above Mark’s collar. “Heard Briggs had trouble with his load today. Said your focus was … elsewhere.” He took a step forward, invading the threshold. “This little arrangement of yours? It’s costing me time. Money.” He jabbed a thick finger toward Mark. “Keep it out of my business. Or pack your tools.”

Mark stepped beside Liam, shoulder-to-shoulder. “The load got done. On time.”

Jenkins’s laugh was a harsh bark. “Barely.” He leaned in, tobacco breath washing over them. “One more slip, one more whisper, and you’re both gone.” He turned, tossing his parting shot over his shoulder. “And fix that damn roof properly. Looks like amateur hour in here.”

The taillights vanished down the road. Liam slammed the door, locking it with a vicious twist. He stared at the bolt, knuckles white. “He’s looking for an excuse.”

Mark picked up his beer. The glass was slick, cold. “Let him look.” He took a sip, the bitterness sharp on his tongue. “We hold. We work.” He met Liam’s stormy gaze. “Together.”

Liam exhaled, a slow release of tension. He picked up his own bottle, clinking it against Mark’s. “Together.” He took a long drink, then set it down decisively. “Now. That beam.” He grabbed a level, running it along the new support. “Dead center.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. “Screw Jenkins.”

Mark watched him — the focused set of his jaw, the grease smudged on his temple. No ghosts haunted his eyes tonight. Just stubborn resolve, warm and real in the garage light. Mark reached out, wiping the smudge with his thumb. Liam caught his wrist, held it. The silence hummed, charged not with fury, but with something steadier. Something built to last. Outside, the crickets sang. The roof held.

They finished the beers in quiet companionship, shoulders pressed against the workbench. The reinforced beam stood solid against the back wall, a silent victory.

Liam tossed the empty bottles into a recycling bin with a clatter. “Shower,” he stated, already unbuttoning his stained shirt. Mark followed him through the dim house to the small bathroom.

Steam fogged the mirror as hot water sluiced away sweat, grease, and the lingering tension of Jenkins’ visit. Liam’s hands, gentle now, traced the bite mark on Mark’s shoulder under the spray. Mark leaned into the touch, turning to capture Liam’s mouth under the falling water. The kiss tasted of cheap beer and shared defiance.

Later, tangled in Liam’s narrow bed under a thin sheet, Mark traced the ridge of Liam’s collarbone. Liam’s breathing was deep and even, his arm draped heavily over Mark’s waist. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, painting silver stripes across the scar on Liam’s hip. Mark pressed his lips there, a silent vow. Liam stirred, murmuring sleepily, fingers tightening possessively on Mark’s hip. “Stay,” he mumbled into the pillow.

Mark stayed. He watched the slow rise and fall of Liam’s chest, the utter peace smoothing the usual lines of worry. Outside, the world held Jenkins, whispers, and steel pipes. Here, it held only this: the warmth of skin, the rhythm of breath, the solid anchor of Liam asleep beside him. The ghosts were silent. The foundation held. Mark closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of soap and sweat and something indefinably Liam. Sleep pulled him under like deep water.

Morning came sharp and clear. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, dust motes dancing. Liam was already gone from the bed, the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Mark found him at the stove, barefoot, flipping pancakes with fierce concentration. He wore only jeans, low on his hips, the muscles of his back shifting as he moved. He didn’t turn. “Eat,” he ordered, sliding a plate piled high onto the worn Formica counter. “Haul’s at ten.”

They ate in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing. The pancakes were slightly charred, drowned in syrup. Perfect. Liam’s gaze kept flicking to Mark’s shoulder, to the fading bite mark visible above his t-shirt collar. A possessive satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “Tools are loaded,” he said, pushing his empty plate away. “Ready?”

The depot yard buzzed with its usual chaos. Jenkins’ rig was already there, idling near Bay 4. He watched them unload their flatbed, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Liam ignored him, directing the forklift driver with crisp efficiency. Mark worked beside him, passing straps, securing loads. Their movements were synchronized, effortless. Jenkins spat tobacco juice onto the gravel near Liam’s boot. Liam didn’t flinch. He finished cinching the last strap, then turned, meeting Jenkins’ stare head-on. “Clear,” he stated, voice carrying over the engine noise.

Jenkins’ lip curled. He climbed into his cab without a word, gunning the engine unnecessarily as he pulled away. Liam watched him go, then turned back to Mark. He didn’t smile, but the tension in his jaw had eased. He reached out, a quick, grounding press of knuckles against Mark’s arm. “Next load,” he said, nodding towards the waiting crane lifting steel coils onto their flatbed. “Let’s move.”

The afternoon sun beat down. Sweat stung Mark’s eyes as they secured the heavy coils. Beside him, Liam grunted, shifting his grip on a thick chain binder. His shirt sleeve rode up, revealing the old scar. Mark’s gaze snagged on it. Liam caught him looking. A flicker of understanding passed between them, silent and deep. He adjusted the binder, knuckles brushing Mark’s deliberately.

“Solid,” Liam murmured, testing the tension. The word wasn’t just about the load. Mark nodded. Solid. Them. This. Against whatever Jenkins threw. The crane operator gave the thumbs-up. They climbed into the cab. Liam turned the key. The engine roared to life, ready for the road. Ready for whatever came next. Together.

Jenkins watched them from the grimy depot office window. His knuckles whitened around a cold coffee mug. The cheap ceramic trembled. Outside, Liam leaned close to Mark, pointing at a strap, their shoulders brushing — easy, intimate. A hot spike of something jagged pierced Jenkins’ gut. Not just anger. Not just annoyance. It was a raw, hollow ache. He saw the way Mark’s hand lingered on Liam’s back. Saw Liam tilt his head, listening, trusting. Jenkins slammed the mug down. Coffee sloshed onto invoices. Fags. He spat the word inside his head, but it tasted like ash. He remembered Liam’s fierce kiss against the Ford fender weeks ago, rainwater gleaming on bare skin. Remembered the possessive grip Mark had on Liam’s hip yesterday. He remembered the bite mark. The sheer fucking ownership in it.

Jenkins shifted uncomfortably in his worn chair. His own bed was cold. Empty. Always empty. He hadn’t touched his wife in months. Hadn’t wanted to. The image of Liam pinned against the workbench, Mark driving into him … it didn’t disgust him. It burned him. He wanted that heat. That surrender. That brutal, claiming closeness. He wanted to be the one pinned. The one owned. He wanted them. Both of them. To be between them. To be theirs. The thought was a punch to the throat. Shame warred with a desperate, clawing hunger. He watched Liam laugh at something Mark said, bright and unguarded. Jenkins looked away, fists clenched. Pathetic.

The next morning dawned grey and heavy with unshed rain. Jenkins intercepted them near Bay 7 before dawn, his face a thundercloud. “Special haul,” he barked, thrusting a manifest at Liam. “Oversized compressor unit. Fragile. Needs careful hands.” His eyes flickered over Mark, then back to Liam. “My truck. You drive.” He jerked his thumb towards his own gleaming Peterbilt. “Mark rides shotgun. I’ll … supervise.” The word sounded forced, unnatural.

Suspicion narrowed Liam’s eyes, but he shrugged, taking the keys Jenkins tossed him. “Fine.”

Inside the luxurious cab, Jenkins squeezed onto the narrow sleeper bunk behind the seats, his bulk awkward. The air crackled. Liam navigated the pre-dawn streets, Mark silent beside him.

Jenkins watched them. The easy silence. The shared glances. The way Liam’s hand rested on Mark’s knee at a red light. The hunger became a physical pain. As they hit the open highway, Jenkins cleared his throat, the sound harsh. “Heard … heard you fixed Liam’s roof good.” Mark glanced back, expression unreadable. “Held.” Jenkins swallowed. “Strong.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping, rough with something terrifyingly close to pleading. “You two … you got something. Real.” Liam’s knuckles tightened on the wheel.

Mark turned fully now, his gaze sharp, assessing. He saw it then — the raw, naked want in Jenkins’ eyes, the tremor in his thick hands. Not anger. Need. A desperate, humiliating need to belong to their heat, their strength. To be beneath it.

Mark held Jenkins’ gaze, a slow, dangerous understanding dawning. He exchanged a single, loaded look with Liam. Liam’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. A predatory stillness settled over them both. The compressor unit was forgotten. A different kind of haul began. Jenkins shivered, trapped between them, feeling utterly exposed. Ready to break.

The Peterbilt’s engine thrummed beneath them, a steady counterpoint to the tension crackling inside the cab. Rain began to streak the windshield, blurring the grey highway. Jenkins’ breath hitched audibly from the bunk.

Liam didn’t glance back. His voice, when he spoke, was low and deliberate, slicing through the drumming rain. “Special haul needs special handling, Jenkins. Fragile cargo.” He eased the rig onto the shoulder, gravel crunching under the tires. The engine idled, a deep, waiting growl.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Mark unbuckled his seatbelt, the click echoing like a gunshot. He turned slowly, deliberately, filling the cramped space between the seats. His eyes, cold and assessing, pinned Jenkins to the bunk. “Supervising?” Mark asked, his voice dangerously soft. “Or surrendering?”

Jenkins flinched. The raw need Mark had seen was now naked panic mixed with desperate yearning. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t look away. Mark leaned closer, invading Jenkins’ space. The scent of cheap aftershave and stale sweat filled Mark’s nostrils. He reached out, not touching, but his knuckles brushed the rough fabric of Jenkins’ shirt near his pounding heart. Jenkins shuddered violently.

Liam killed the engine. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the frantic drumming of rain on the roof. He swiveled his seat, his movements deliberate, predatory. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto Jenkins. “Fragile,” Liam echoed, the word a low rasp. “Like you right now?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He slid from the driver’s seat, crowding into the narrow space beside Mark, trapping Jenkins against the sleeper bunk’s thin mattress. The air thickened, charged with ozone and something far more primal.

Jenkins tried to recoil, but the bunk wall stopped him. His chest heaved. “This ain’t —” he choked out.

Mark cut him off, his hand snapping out to grip Jenkins’ jaw, forcing his head up. “Shut up.” His thumb pressed hard against the hinge, silencing any protest. Mark leaned in, his breath hot on Jenkins’ ear. “You wanted in. You’re in.” He released the jaw, fingers instead tangling roughly in Jenkins’ thinning hair, yanking his head back. Jenkins gasped, a raw, ragged sound. His eyes were wide, terrified, yet dilated with a desperate, undeniable hunger.

Liam watched, a faint, chilling curve touching his lips. He reached past Mark, his calloused fingers finding the top button of Jenkins’ work shirt. The pop was loud in the stillness. Then the next. And the next. Jenkins trembled violently, but didn’t resist as Liam peeled the damp fabric open, exposing the thick, pale hair on his chest. The air smelled of rain, diesel, and Jenkins’ sour fear-sweat.

Mark kept his grip tight in Jenkins’ hair, forcing him to meet Liam’s gaze. Liam traced a slow, deliberate line down Jenkins’ sternum with a grease-blackened fingertip. “Fragile,” he murmured again, low and dangerous. “Breakable.” His hand slid lower, over the swell of Jenkins’ belly, stopping just above his belt buckle. Jenkins whimpered, a trapped animal sound.

Mark leaned closer, his voice a gravelly whisper against Jenkins’ temple. “Tell us what you want.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

Jenkins squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. “Y-you,” he choked out, voice thick with shame and raw need. “Both. Please.”

Liam’s hand moved. The belt buckle clinked open. The zipper rasped down. Jenkins gasped as cool air hit his heated skin. Liam didn’t hesitate. He gripped Jenkins, hard, making him cry out. “Look at him,” Liam ordered, nodding toward Mark.

Jenkins’ terrified eyes flew open, locking onto Mark’s cold, assessing stare. Mark held his gaze, unblinking, as Liam began to stroke Jenkins with rough, punishing efficiency. Jenkins bucked, a strangled sob escaping him. “Look at him,” Liam repeated, tightening his grip until Jenkins whimpered, his focus pinned on Mark’s merciless eyes. Mark watched the surrender, the utter collapse in Jenkins’ face, the frantic twitching of his body under Liam’s ruthless hand.

The rain hammered the roof, sealing them in their brutal, intimate cage. Jenkins’ breath hitched, his body tensing toward release. Mark leaned in, his lips brushing Jenkins’ ear. “Beg,” he commanded.

Jenkins shattered. “Please!” he gasped, voice breaking. “Please!”

Liam’s rhythm intensified, relentless. Jenkins arched off the bunk, a raw, guttural cry tearing from his throat as he came, shuddering violently under their hands and their gaze. He collapsed back, panting, utterly spent, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. Liam released him, wiping his hand casually on Jenkins’ discarded shirt. Mark finally let go of his hair.

Jenkins curled in on himself, trembling, exposed and broken in the dim light. Liam turned back to the wheel, restarting the engine. The Peterbilt roared back to life.

“Supervision’s over,” Liam stated flatly, pulling the rig onto the rain-slicked highway. Jenkins didn’t move. He just wept silently into the thin mattress.

Back at Liam’s garage, the rain hammered the corrugated roof. Mark hauled Jenkins out of the cab by his collar. Jenkins stumbled, legs weak, shirt hanging open. Liam shoved him toward the side door. “Move.” Inside, the familiar scent of oil and sawdust hit them. Jenkins flinched as Liam spun him around, ripping the ruined shirt off his shoulders. Mark worked Jenkins’ belt and jeans, peeling them down thick thighs. They paused.

Jenkins stood trembling, naked under the garage’s fluorescent glare. Solid muscle layered his shoulders and chest, surprising them. Not the soft gut they’d expected from years behind a wheel, but a powerful, weathered frame. “Built like a damn bull,” Mark muttered, knuckles brushing a surprisingly defined pectoral.

Liam pushed Jenkins toward the bedroom door. “Bed. Now.” Jenkins stumbled forward, clumsy with shock. They followed him into the dim room. Liam kicked the door shut. Together, they stripped efficiently – jeans, boots, shirts hitting the floorboards. Mark shoved Jenkins backward onto the rumpled sheets. He landed heavily, staring up at them with wide, terrified eyes.

Liam climbed onto the bed first, settling heavily beside Jenkins on the right. His calloused hand landed possessively on Jenkins’ bare chest, pinning him. “Breathe,” Liam commanded, low and dangerous. Jenkins sucked in a shaky breath.

Mark mirrored Liam on the left, his thigh pressing against Jenkins’ trembling leg. Heat radiated from both men, enveloping Jenkins. Mark traced the thick ridge of Jenkins’ bicep with a fingertip. “Strong,” he observed, his voice a gravelly rumble against Jenkins’ ear. Jenkins whimpered, trapped between their solid, naked bodies.

Liam’s thumb brushed a nipple, rough and deliberate. Jenkins arched off the mattress involuntarily. “Easy,” Liam murmured, the word a velvet threat. His hand slid lower, tracing the hard plane of Jenkins’ abdomen, fingers dipping into the coarse hair below his navel. Jenkins squeezed his eyes shut, breath ragged.

Liam’s calloused palm closed around Jenkins again, firm, unyielding. Jenkins gasped, hips jerking. “Look at him,” Liam ordered, nodding toward Mark. Jenkins’ terrified eyes flew open, locking onto Mark’s cold, focused stare. Mark held his gaze, unwavering, as Liam began a slow, punishing rhythm. Jenkins writhed, a choked sob escaping him.

Mark leaned in, his lips brushing Jenkins’ temple. “Feel it,” he commanded. Jenkins shuddered violently, his body betraying him, responding fiercely to Liam’s touch despite the terror. Liam’s rhythm intensified, relentless.

Jenkins cried out, bucking wildly. Mark’s hand clamped down on Jenkins’ shoulder, pinning him to the bed as release tore through him, raw and shuddering. He collapsed, gasping, tears leaking onto the pillow.

Silence filled the room, thick with the scent of sweat and salt and shame. Liam released him, wiping his hand on the sheet. Mark shifted, his knee nudging Jenkins’ trembling thighs apart. Jenkins flinched. Mark’s gaze, still locked on Jenkins’ wrecked face, was unreadable.

“Turn over,” Mark said, his voice low and final. Jenkins hesitated, a tremor running through him. Liam’s hand landed heavily on Jenkins’ hip, pushing. “Now.” Jenkins obeyed, rolling onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, his broad back exposed and vulnerable.

The mattress dipped as Liam moved behind him. Jenkins tensed, every muscle coiled. Liam’s hand smoothed down Jenkins’ spine, possessive, claiming. Jenkins whimpered into the fabric.

Mark watched, his expression hardening. He reached for the bedside drawer. The rasp of the drawer opening was loud in the stillness. Jenkins froze. Liam’s hand tightened on Jenkins’ hip, holding him in place. Mark’s knuckles brushed Liam’s as he retrieved the small bottle. The cap clicked open.

Jenkins squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently. Liam leaned down, his breath hot on Jenkins’ ear. “Hold still.” Jenkins shuddered, pressing his face deeper into the pillow. Liam’s grip tightened. Mark’s slick fingers pressed against his ass pucker. Jenkins cried out.

“Quiet,” Mark growled, working him open with brutal efficiency. Jenkins choked back a sob. Liam’s calloused palm slid up Jenkins’ spine, possessive and grounding. “Breathe,” Liam murmured against his shoulder blade. Jenkins gasped, hips jerking involuntarily.

Mark withdrew his fingers. The bed shifted. Jenkins felt the blunt pressure, immense and terrifying. He arched, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as Mark pushed in, relentless. Jenkins clawed at the sheets. Liam pinned Jenkins’ wrists above his head, pressing his chest flush against Jenkins’ back. “Take it,” Liam commanded, low and fierce.

Jenkins whimpered, body stretched impossibly tight. Mark began to move — deep, punishing thrusts that stole Jenkins’ breath. Each drive forced a ragged cry from him. Liam’s teeth grazed Jenkins’ shoulder, biting down hard enough to bruise. Jenkins shuddered, pinned between their heat.

Mark’s rhythm intensified, brutal and unyielding. Jenkins felt himself fracturing. Liam’s free hand slid down Jenkins’ heaving flank, gripping his hip. “Look at him,” Liam ordered, forcing Jenkins’ head sideways. Jenkins’ tear-blurred vision locked onto Mark’s face — cold, focused, relentless. Mark’s knuckles whitened where he braced against the mattress. His thrusts grew sharper, deeper. Jenkins cried out, the sound raw and broken.

Liam’s hand tightened on Jenkins’ hip, forcing him deeper onto Mark’s thrusts. Each drive punched the breath from Jenkins’ lungs, leaving him gasping against the sweat-drenched pillow. Mark’s rhythm was relentless — deep, grinding strokes that scraped Jenkins raw inside.

The stretch burned, a white-hot agony that blurred into something else as Mark’s cock dragged over his prostate. Jenkins jerked, a choked whimper escaping him. Liam’s teeth sank into the meat of Jenkins’ shoulder again, a sharp counterpoint to the brutal fullness below. “Feel it,” Liam growled against his skin, the vibration humming through bone. Jenkins shuddered, tears soaking the pillowcase. His cock, trapped beneath him, throbbed against the mattress, hard and leaking despite the shame.

Mark shifted his angle, driving upward. Jenkins cried out as pleasure detonated low in his belly, sharp and shocking. His back arched, muscles straining against Liam’s iron grip pinning his wrists. Mark’s breath hitched, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal. Jenkins felt the thick vein along Mark’s cock pulse inside him with each slam. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with Jenkins’ ragged sobs. Liam’s free hand slid down Jenkins’ flank, rough fingers finding his nipple, twisting hard. Jenkins bucked wildly, impaled between them, sensation overwhelming — the bite on his shoulder, the cruel twist on his chest, the relentless pistoning deep in his ass. Mark’s hips stuttered, a low groan tearing from his throat. Jenkins felt the hot, sudden flood of release filling him, Mark’s cock pulsing as he buried himself to the hilt, hips grinding in tight circles.

Mark collapsed forward, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against Jenkins’ back, breath hot and ragged on his neck. Liam finally released Jenkins’ wrists, his hand sliding down to grip Jenkins’ hip possessively. Jenkins lay trapped, trembling, Mark’s softening cock still lodged inside him, Liam’s weight heavy against his side. The air reeked of sex, sweat, and salt. Liam’s thumb traced the fresh bite mark on Jenkins’ shoulder, a darkening bruise in the dim light.

“Mine,” Liam murmured, the word thick with satisfaction. Jenkins shuddered, eyes squeezed shut. Mark shifted, pulling out slowly. Jenkins gasped at the sudden emptiness, the slick spill of come between his thighs. Mark rolled off, collapsing onto his back beside them, chest heaving. Silence settled, thick and suffocating. Jenkins didn’t move. He just breathed, waiting for the next command, the next violation, the next proof he belonged to them now.

Liam’s hand slid down Jenkins’ flank, rough fingers tracing the curve of his hipbone. “Turn over,” Liam ordered, voice low but devoid of its earlier fury. It was colder now. Absolute. Jenkins obeyed mechanically, rolling onto his back. The mattress dipped as Mark moved, kneeling beside Jenkins’ hips. Liam mirrored him on the other side. Jenkins stared up at the ceiling’s water stain, his body trembling uncontrollably. He knew what was coming. The impossibility of it. The terror.

Liam gripped Jenkins’ thigh, hauling it up and outward, exposing him brutally. Mark did the same on the other side, spreading Jenkins wide. Jenkins whimpered, a high, thin sound trapped in his throat. His hole, stretched and slick from Mark’s earlier use, pulsed visibly against the cool air. Liam’s thumb, thick and calloused, pressed against the swollen rim, testing the give. Jenkins flinched violently. “Hold him,” Liam commanded Mark.

Mark leaned forward, his powerful hands clamping down on Jenkins’ hips, pinning him flat to the mattress. Jenkins was utterly immobilized, legs splayed obscenely, his ass lifted slightly off the sheets by Mark’s grip. Liam positioned himself behind Jenkins’ hips, his thick cock already hard again, glistening with lube Mark silently passed him.

Liam pressed the blunt, slick head firmly against Jenkins’ stretched entrance. Jenkins cried out, arching uselessly against Mark’s iron hold. Liam pushed. Slowly, agonizingly, the thick crown breached him, forcing the already abused ring wider. Jenkins gasped, tears streaming anew, his body screaming at the renewed invasion.

Before Jenkins could adjust to the impossible stretch of Liam filling him, Mark shifted. He moved behind Liam, pressing his own slicked cock against Liam’s lower back, aligning himself. Mark’s tip nudged against the tight space where Liam’s cock disappeared into Jenkins’ body.

Mark pushed forward, hard. Jenkins screamed. It wasn’t just the stretch; it was the pressure, the friction, the sheer physics-defying violation as Mark’s cockhead pressed insistently *beside* Liam’s shaft, forcing its way into the same impossibly tight channel. Jenkins felt the hot slide of two distinct, thick shapes forcing their way deeper inside him, stretching him wider than he thought possible, a stretching, incendiary fullness that obliterated thought.

Liam groaned above him, pushing back slightly against Mark’s pressure, forcing both their cocks deeper into Jenkins’ straining passage. Jenkins convulsed, pinned and impaled, his body a trembling sheath for their shared possession. Mark’s hand slid forward from Jenkins’ hip, finding Liam’s where it braced on the bed. Their fingers interlaced over Jenkins’ belly as they began to move.

It was a slow, synchronized piston. Liam withdrew slightly, allowing Mark to thrust deeper; then Liam surged forward, driving Mark deeper still. Jenkins felt every ridge, every vein, every shift of their combined girth grinding against his raw inner walls. The friction was a white-hot agony that blurred into a sick, overwhelming pressure against his prostate. His neglected cock, trapped against his stomach, throbbed violently, leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto his own skin. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream – only choked gasps escaped as they filled him impossibly full, then withdrew, leaving him achingly hollow before plunging back in unison. Their hips slapped against his spread thighs, a wet, rhythmic percussion punctuated by their low grunts and Jenkins’ ragged whimpers.

The pace quickened. Mark’s free hand gripped Jenkins’ jaw, forcing his head sideways, making him watch Liam’s face – the clenched jaw, the sweat dripping from his brow, the fierce concentration as he drove into Jenkins while simultaneously taking Mark’s thrusts. Liam’s eyes locked onto Jenkins’, burning with dark triumph. Jenkins’ body betrayed him utterly. His hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more of the brutal friction, his cock pulsing violently against his stomach. Mark’s thumb pressed hard against Jenkins’ throat, cutting off his air. Spots danced before Jenkins’ eyes as the pressure inside him built to a terrifying crescendo. Liam’s rhythm grew frantic, his thrusts shallow and hard. Mark’s grip tightened on Jenkins’ jaw and hip, his own movements becoming sharp, driving jabs.

Liam roared first, a raw, primal sound. Jenkins felt the hot flood deep inside as Liam’s cock pulsed violently, filling him. Mark followed instantly, slamming forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt beside Liam’s shaft. Jenkins screamed silently against Mark’s crushing grip on his throat as the second scalding release flooded him, stretching him impossibly wider. The overwhelming fullness, the brutal claiming, triggered his own agonizing climax. His cock jerked violently against his stomach, spilling untouched onto his skin in thick, helpless pulses.

They collapsed forward together, a crushing weight pinning Jenkins to the soaked sheets. Liam slumped over Jenkins’ back, Mark pressing heavily against Liam’s spine. Jenkins gasped for air, lungs burning, pinned beneath their combined heat and weight. The air reeked of sex, sweat, and salt. Slowly, Liam pulled out, followed by Mark’s slick withdrawal. The sudden emptiness was profound, leaving Jenkins trembling and gaping, spent sperm leaking onto the sheets beneath him.

Liam rolled off, collapsing onto his back beside Jenkins, breathing heavily. Mark stayed kneeling for a moment longer, his gaze sweeping over Jenkins’ wrecked form – the bite marks, the bruises forming on his hips, the tears drying on his cheeks. Then he moved, swinging his legs off the bed. He walked to the bathroom without a word. The sound of running water filled the silence.

Liam turned his head, his eyes dark pools in the gloom. He studied Jenkins’ profile – the slack jaw, the vacant stare fixed on the ceiling. Slowly, deliberately, Liam reached out. His rough thumb traced the curve of Jenkins’ jawline, wiping away a stray tear track. Jenkins flinched, a tremor running through him. Liam’s hand settled possessively on Jenkins’ sternum, feeling the rapid, thudding heartbeat beneath.

Mark returned, a damp washcloth in hand. He didn’t look at Jenkins. Instead, he knelt beside Liam, gently wiping the sweat and come from his chest, his abdomen. The intimacy of the act, performed in silence, felt more violating than the violence. Liam watched Mark’s movements, his expression unreadable, then shifted his gaze back to Jenkins. His hand remained splayed possessively on Jenkins’ sternum, thumb rubbing slow circles over the frantic heartbeat.

Jenkins lay frozen, the ache deep inside him a throbbing reminder. Every breath felt like glass shards scraping his lungs. Mark finished with Liam and stood. He tossed the soiled cloth onto the floor near Jenkins’ feet. “Shower,” Mark stated, his voice flat. It wasn’t an invitation.

Jenkins didn’t move. Couldn’t. Liam’s hand slid lower, rough fingers tracing the fresh bruises blooming on Jenkins’ hipbone. “You heard him.” The pressure increased, a silent command. Jenkins flinched, scrambling sideways off the bed. His legs buckled as his feet hit the floor. He caught himself on the edge of the mattress, trembling. The cold air hit his naked skin, raising goosebumps. He felt the slick trail down his inner thigh.

Mark gestured towards the bathroom door. Jenkins stumbled forward, avoiding their eyes. The small bathroom felt like a cage. He turned the faucet, the water hitting the tiles loud in the silence. He stepped under the spray, flinching as the hot water hit the bite marks on his shoulder and the raw tenderness between his legs. He scrubbed furiously, trying to erase the scent of them, the feel of them, the violation. His reflection in the fogged mirror was a stranger — hollow-eyed, marked.

He emerged, dripping, clutching a threadbare towel. They were dressed now, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching him. Liam held out Jenkins’ crumpled clothes — the torn shirt, the stained jeans. “Get dressed.” Jenkins fumbled with the buttons, fingers clumsy. Mark tossed Jenkins’ boots onto the floorboards near his feet. The silence was heavy, expectant.

Liam stepped closer, invading Jenkins’ space. He gripped Jenkins’ chin, forcing his head up. Jenkins met his eyes, a flicker of defiance sparking briefly before drowning in terror. Liam’s gaze was cold, assessing.

“Tomorrow,” Liam said, his voice low and final, “you show up. You run your routes. You keep your mouth shut.” His thumb pressed hard against Jenkins’ jawbone. “You belong to us now. Remember it.”

He released Jenkins and stepped back. Mark opened the side door leading to the driveway. Rain lashed the concrete outside.

Jenkins didn’t hesitate. He shoved his feet into his boots, didn’t bother tying them, and lurched out into the downpour. The cold water was a shock. He didn’t look back. He stumbled towards his car parked crookedly on the street, fumbled with the keys, and wrenched the door open. The engine roared to life. He drove blindly, the wipers slapping uselessly against the torrent, the echo of Liam’s words ringing louder than the storm: You belong to us now. The headlights carved a trembling path through the drowning dark.

Morning dawned brittle and gray, the rain reduced to a miserable drizzle. The depot yard was slick with oily puddles. Jenkins’ rig sat silent in Bay 4, engine cold. Liam and Mark worked methodically beside their flatbed, securing chains over a fresh load of pipe. The air crackled with tension thicker than the humidity. Jenkins stood near his cab door, shoulders hunched, coffee untouched in his hand. He watched them, his face pale beneath the stubble, eyes hollow. Every movement seemed stiff, pained. The loader who’d tripped Liam gave Jenkins a wide berth, sensing something broken.

Finally, Jenkins took a shuddering breath. He set the coffee cup on his bumper and walked towards them. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one seeming to cost him effort. He stopped a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Liam straightened, his gaze hard, unyielding. Mark paused, his hand resting on a chain link, watching silently.

Jenkins cleared his throat, the sound rough. He looked down at the wet asphalt, then forced his eyes up, meeting Liam’s first, then Mark’s. “Last night …” he began, voice scraping. He swallowed. “Last night … was …” He trailed off, struggling. A flush crept up his neck. He looked away again, jaw working. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, raw and stripped bare. “Best I’ve had in … years.” He dragged his gaze back to them, shame warring with a desperate, humbled hunger. “I was … wrong. Before. About you both.” He took another shaky breath. “Can I … sometimes … join you? If … if you’ll permit me?”

Silence stretched, heavy with the drip of water from the rigs and the distant clang of metal. Liam exchanged a long look with Mark. Mark’s expression was unreadable, but a subtle shift occurred — the cold edge softening into something contemplative, almost … amused. Liam’s rigid posture eased fractionally. A ghost of that dark triumph flickered in his eyes, tempered now by a predatory magnanimity. He nodded once, curtly. “You remember your place,” Liam stated, the command implicit, the forgiveness conditional. “Then yeah. Sometimes.”

Jenkins sagged, relief washing over him like a wave, mingling with the lingering ache and the profound, unsettling submission. “Thank you,” he rasped. He didn’t move, waiting for dismissal. Mark gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod towards Jenkins’ rig. Jenkins turned, walking back stiffly, the weight of belonging settling on his shoulders. Liam watched him go, then turned back to the chains. Mark’s hand brushed his, a silent understanding passing between them. The yard buzzed on, oblivious. The foundation, for now, held firm.

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Boys Meet

The moment I stepped off the airplane, I could tell I was in one of the most liberal places in America. Coming from a small conservative town in Texas had me feeling like a fish out of water.  Everything had changed on that night, all those months ago, when I lost my virginity to Peter.  Up until that moment, I had assumed I was straight. Now, I’m not so sure. Peter and I had chatted some since then, but not a lot. I felt this connection toward him, and so I guess you could say I followed him. I applied to Stillwater University, and I got in. Yeah, I changed my entire life for a guy, but Peter isn’t just any guy. I think he’s the guy. 

I stepped out of Portland International Airport feeling like I was in some 90s rom-com. I was expecting the wind to blow through my hair and for people to stop, stare, wonder about me, and whisper. None of that happened. No, instead, there were horns honking and congested traffic. The ride out of Portland to Orchard Glen with my Uber driver wasn’t as bad. The entire time, I kept fantasizing about all the romantic ways Peter would respond or react when he saw me. 

Hours later, I had my room key and belongings. I stepped off the elevator. People were moving about the common areas. I smiled to myself and made my way down the hall. Shirtless guys were throwing a ball. Another guy fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. In the corner, someone was playing “Cool Kids” by Echosmith. 

I made my way down the hall to my room. I was eager to meet my roommate and also ready to drop all my bags so I could go and find Peter. I unlocked the door and stepped halfway inside when my mind was completely blown. The sounds of groans and moans hit me fast and hard. My eyes landed quickly on this light-skinned, muscled, sweaty back. My eyes dropped down to his round, perfectly sculpted, fat yellow ass. His two melons flexed as he slammed into some girl. 

“What the hell,” I shouted, catching myself off guard. 

“Oh my God,” the girl screamed as she pushed away from the guy. 

He quickly pulled out of her. He turned around to face me with this grin on his face that made me want to smack him. What I did next was just based on pure animalistic instinct as a man. I looked this guy up and down from top to bottom. His chest was well-defined with muscles. He had a strange tattoo of a star on his left pec. My eyes scanned over his washboard abs. I followed the treasure trail from his belly button down to his thick black bush. His cock was about 8-9 inches long and pretty thick. It was covered by the condom, and for some reason, I wished it hadn’t been. He had two low-hanging balls and thighs that could have crushed me. 

“Get out,” he said as he pointed out the door. His voice was smooth and as deep as the mighty Mississippi River. 

“Excuse me,” I said, snapping out of my trance. “This is my room. You go be a slut somewhere else.”

“Slut,” he repeated as he raised his eyebrow. “I like the term sex-positive, you simple, narrow-minded nerd.” 

I backed away from him. Without realizing it, I had stepped back into the hall. He smirked as he looked me up and down. Then he closed the door in my face. It took a second for it to register. I quickly unlocked the door again. I opened the door just as he was walking up to the girl again. His round melons bounced perfectly with each step he took. 

“Seriously,” she said with high annoyance at my presence. 

He turned around, frowned, and said, “Bro, I’m seriously about to kick your ass.”

“It’s my room, and I need to put my things down. Can’t you put it on pause for a moment or two?” I asked with a bit of defiance.

He stormed over to me rather quickly. He took my suitcase and backpack and tossed it on the empty bed. I handed him my other bag, and he tossed that one as well. He then stared me in my eyes. It was like he was challenging me. I wasn’t going to let anyone bully me in college. Even if he beat my ass, I was going to get beaten, having defended my rights and myself. We just started at one another, and then a smile slowly spread across his face. It was like he liked that I didn’t back down or something. 

Looking at him, he had this dynamic sex appeal. It was like the perfect blend of athleticism with a polished, charismatic nature. He towered over me at 6’5”. He had a chiseled physique, sharp jawline, intense eyes, and, dare I say, a radiant smile. His skin was bright, almost white, but not quite. He had a dark set of curls, and the sides were faded out. His eyebrows were long and thick, with the perfect set of pinkish lips. Both his ears were pierced, and he had a little bit of chin hair. I could see why the girl was giving it up.  

“Anything else, or can I finally finish up in here?” He asked as he puffed his chest out.

“As a matter of fact, there is,” I said.

“What’s that?” He asked, amused.

“I’m your roommate, Emory Christopher Thorton,” I introduced myself as I held my hand out for a proper shake. 

He smirked, “More like Thorne ’cause you’re a bit of a pain in my ass at the moment. Nevertheless, I’m Jacobi Phillips, Thorne.”

He held his hand out, and I shook it. It was almost the strangest encounter, but the ice had been broken between us. I released his hand and then stepped back from the door. 

“Please don’t take all day,” I said.

“I make no promises, Thorne.” He wore that shit-eating grin as he said it. 

Slightly irritated, I said, “It’s Emory…fancy face.”

His smile quickly dropped, and he slammed the door. I had nowhere to go, and I had no idea where to begin to try and find Peter. I turned to my left, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw me. I found myself floating back in time all those months ago. I was back in time in that room, losing my virginity.

 FLASHBACK:

 Emory and Peter had stripped down to their boxer briefs. The kisses between them continued to heat up. Emory enjoyed the way Peter’s lips felt against his own. Peter was like a kid on Christmas morning inside. He found the guy to be extremely sexy. Knowing he was about to be the first person to ever unwrap Emory turned on deeply. His throbbing erection was proof of his desire and lust.

 Peter pulled his underwear down. Emory’s eyes dropped to it. He took in the sight of his first-ever penis. It was nerve-wracking and thrilling.

 “I didn’t expect it to be so big,” Emory confessed as he stared at it.

 Peter chuckled, “Don’t worry. It’ll all fit. “Touch it. Make yourself familiar with it. It won’t bite.”

 The inexperienced lad chuckled nervously. He wanted to touch it. The long, uncut monster was just begging to be loved on. Emory wrapped his soft, delicate hands around Peter’s large member. He slowly stroked it. Peter leaned in and planted his lips against Emory’s. They resumed making out. Emory made sure to pull the foreskin back and expose the pale pink head of Peter’s cock.

 The more they made out, the more Emory wanted it. Something that had been missing within him seemed to just fall into place. A hunger and lust for something sexual and raw came alive.  He pushed Peter onto the bed and took the cock into his mouth. He moved his lips up and down, tasting every inch of Peter.

 “Oh my God. Emory, that feels so good,” Peter moaned. “Make sure you don’t use your teeth.”

 “I’m sorry,” Emory apologized.

 “It’s okay. Keep going,” Peter breathed.

 Emory moved to his balls and licked them. The feeling of his tongue on Peter’s balls sent pleasure through every nerve. Pete tossed his head back and thrust his hips up slightly. His moans grew a bit louder. Emory was making him feel better than any of his previous hookups had ever made him feel. Emory wanted to do well. He thought about all the porn videos he had watched and doubled his effort. Peter ran his fingers through Emory’s bushy curly hair.

 “Holy shit! Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he exclaimed.

 With a pop, Emory pulled off Peter’s cock. Peter put Emory on the bed on his knees. Emory’s hole was exposed entirely. It was a marvelous sight that Peter enjoyed. He ran his hands across Emory’s soft glutes and then traced his finger across his anus. Emory’s body shivered. That tight virgin pucker winked at him. It was all smooth, hairless, and the prettiest shade of brown.

 Peter kissed the outside of Emory’s rosebud, and then he slowly pushed his tongue inside of Emory’s anus. The man responded with soft moans. Peter ran his tongue around the inside of him. He sucked his flavor into his mouth. His lips kissed Emory’s puckered ring. Emory found himself pushing back against Peter’s tongue. He loved the way it spread him just barely each time he pushed back against it. Peter’s strong hands massaged and pulled those cheeks apart. Emory moaned and squirmed from the pleasure that was given to him. It was all new, and yet it felt all part of who he was.

 “I want it, Peter,” Emory uttered.         

 “Yeah?’ Peter asked. “You want this cock in you?”

 The man stood up and slapped his hard cock across Emory’s pucker. It made a loud sound that thrilled them both. There was no turning back for them. Peter took all eight inches of his hard, uncut cock and pushed it inside of Emory. Emory’s hole gave way. Emory’s entire body tensed, and the ring of his tight ass burned. Everything inside of him stretched to accommodate the long cock.

 “Oooh…fuck. It’s so big,” Emory moaned. He was completely surprised by how it felt inside of him.

 “You’re so tight. I can feel you throbbing around my cock.”

They started with slow strokes. Emory’s cheeks vibrated as Peter took him. His cock moved in and out of that tight hole. Each thrust made Emory’s anal walls flex around Peter’s cock. The guy went as deep as his cock could go in Emory. He kissed Emory’s back as he moved in and out of him. Emory arched his back, and Peter’s cock hit a new depth. Emory’s ass bounced and swayed as Peter fucked him. The new position sent a thrill through them.

 “Work my fucking cock,” Peter said as he slapped Emory on the ass.

 The inexperienced stud tried to work that dick. He forced his body to move back and forth. It was clumsy but effective. Peter admired the way Emory moved. It made him want more. Emory enjoyed the way the cock moved in and out of him. It felt different than he had expected. For all of twenty minutes, Peter did all the work. They switched positions, and Emory began to bounce up and down on Peter’s cock. Emory felt more relaxed and in control while he was on top.

 He rode Peter like the perfect cowboy. He took every inch deep into his tunnel and ensured he worked that dick. The muscles in his walls worked overtime, but it was worth it. Peter’s dick was good. He tossed his head back as he bounced up and down. Pete ran his solid hands over Emory’s body. He pinched and pulled at the man’s nipples.

 Peter rolled him over and pounded him. He picked up the pace and quickly moved in and out of the wet hole. He went deeper and harder as he felt his climax approaching. Emory stroked himself as his anus worked that cock. Within minutes, the two reached their climax. Emory let out a loud groan as his cock exploded. He showered them both with his semen.  Peter pulled out and burst his load all over Emory’s chest.

 “FUCK,” Peter shouted.

 They were completely spent and exhausted. Emory lay there and slowly tried to process what had just happened to him.

 END FLASHBACK!

Peter stood there with a blank expression on his face. His eyes said he recognized, but he couldn’t exactly place my face. Even with that blank stare, he was still attractive. There he stood, over six feet tall and toned with those tousled, dark brown curls that fell across his forehead like a classic heartthrob. His hazel eyes still glowed bright and expressive. He was giving Noah Centineo vibes without trying.

“It’s me… Emory,” I reminded him.

He smiled, “Right. Sorry. I had a bit of a brain freeze. I thought you were going to UTA?”

“I thought so as well. Plans kind of changed, and now I’m here. Surprise,” I said with all this flair and nervous energy. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to tell you something, but I wanted to do it face-to-face.”

“Babe, I’m ready.” This tall, beautiful guy came and casually draped his arm over Peter’s shoulder. Peter smiled at him, and they kissed. My world shattered on the inside.

“Who’s your friend?” He asked as he finally looked at me.

“This is Emory. He goes here now.” Peter said as he wrapped his arm tighter around the guy. “Emory, this is my boyfriend, Sam.”

“Boyfriend,” I blurted the word out. It was almost impossible to believe, despite it being right in my face.

“So…you’re Emory? We aren’t going to have any problems with you trying to steal my boyfriend, are we?” I could hear his drawn-out, deep Texas accent.

I shook my head from side to side. “No.”

“Good,” he said as he made it a point to stare into my eyes.

I tried to hold it together. I felt so emotionally torn apart. I had stupidly given part of myself to a guy. A part of me that I truly treasured, and he had a boyfriend. He didn’t just have any boyfriend, but he had someone who was incredibly beautiful.

Sam’s skin was warm and golden like he had been kissed by hours outdoors. Slight freckles trailed across his nose. He was lean, sculpted, and athletic. He had a mop of golden brown curls that were naturally tousled. You would have thought he’d just gotten back from a run at the beach. Those bright, clear, ocean blue eyes were framed by thick lashes. He had high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Sam could have been a model. He was photogenic from every angle.

“It was good seeing you again, Emory,” Peter said. “Welcome to SU. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

They walked away from me holding hands. I stood there like some foolish individual.

 FLASHBACK:

Peter and Emory are tangled in the sheets. The silence between them bordered along the lines of being awkward. Peter rolled over in the bed and picked up his cellphone. He began to scroll mindlessly through various social media apps. Emory took a moment to collect himself.

“Is there something we’re supposed to do after we do it?” Emory asked.

“What?” Peter asked as he looked over at. “Was that like your first time or something?”

“Yes. I thought I was straight,” Emory utters in near disbelief.

“Well, after what we just did, I can promise you that you aren’t straight.” Peter snatched the covers back and slipped on his pants.

“I came to visit the campus just so I could take a break from my parents. I have a girlfriend back home. What did I just do?” Emory began to panic. The reality of everything began to set in, and it scared me.

“Hey,” Peter yelled as he placed his hand on Emory’s arm. Emory looked at him with watery eyes.

“You don’t have to decide anything. You did something young and wild, and that’s important. Whoever you are, you’ll discover and make peace with it in due time. For now, just chill. No one knows what we did.”

“How are you so calm?”

Peter’s lips turned up, and a smile spread across his face. “I’ve been gay since the beginning of time. Places like Stillwater University are a liberal safe haven for me. That’s why I plan to attend. You should find a place and someone that’s safe for you to explore.”

“I don’t know how to calm down. All I know is that my mind keeps replaying what we did, and it makes me want to do it again,” he confessed.

“If you want to do it again, we can,” Peter told him. The truth of the matter was that Peter was running from something himself. He was using sex with Emory to distract himself from his own troubles.

Emory chuckled nervously, “I want to. Can we do it again?”

Peter slipped his clothes back off. He grabbed Emory by the ankles and dragged him toward the edge of the bed. He spread Emory’s legs and took a look at his puffy, cream-filled hole. Peter knew he was going to creampie the man once again, and it excited him to his core.

 END FLASHBACK!

 “That was difficult to watch.”

I turned around and there they were, standing in front of me, looking concerned and amused at the same time. At first glance, they looked like a dude, but I could tell there was something different going on with them.

“Excuse me,” I said, completely annoyed.

“I’m Eli Vega, and my pronouns are they and them. Please respect it and know that I am going to be your safe space as you navigate your coming-out experience. Now, don’t worry, there are plenty of other guys at this school. We’ll find you a cute little twink to play with.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” I turned and watched Peter and Sam continue to walk away. “I came here for Peter, and before the school year is over, he’ll be my boyfriend.”  I turned my attention back to Eli. “I mean, at least that’s what they say on all the television shows, and then the boy becomes their man, right?”

For a moment, Eli just stared at me. Then, suddenly, they started to laugh hysterically.

“No more TV for you. This is real life. It doesn’t happen that way,” they said. “There are other things you can do, though, to grab his attention.”

Eli draped their arm around me.

“Tell me what to do.”

Things weren’t going quite as I had hoped for my first day, but I was determined to get what I wanted. I was, after all, just a boy meeting boys for the first time!

TO BE CONTINUED

© Grayson Rose 2025. All rights reserved.

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2001 A Space Odyssey is the property of MGM.

David Bowman guided the space pod towards the black monolith floating in space.

“About to make contact” he sent a message back on Earth.

David wished that Frank Poole was with him now but he had to face this alien intelligence by himself .  David had never felt more alone in his life

The interior of the monolith began to glow.

David braced himself as he was pulled into the unknown.

A blinding light made the stars dissapear

.A MONTH BEFORE ABOARD THE STAR SHIP DISCOVERY

“HAL asked me about sex ” David said.

“What does that have to do with operating the ship?”

HAL ran the ship. The two human astronauts were there just in case of mechanical error that the supercomputer could not manage itself.

“HAL is a machine he would never experience  sex .”

“But there has never been any computer as advance as HAL.”

“You think too much David.”

“What else is there too do up here Frank?”

“You should work out more.”  Frank trotted off to his daily jog around the circumference of the ship.  David could not help admire how the tight shorts showed his friends ass.

   David had been having a series of disturbing dreams that felt too real. The dream was always the same. He would be standing naked in front of this enormous black monolith. He had asked HAL about them.

“I will have to do some research on that David” HAL had responded.

“Thank you, HAL.”

David sometimes felt as if the computer with its soothing human sounding voice was an actual person.

“Have you discussed this with Frank?”

“Not yet “ Frank to practical to indulge in philosophical discussions 

David walked by the cryogenic chambers where the rest of the crew was in suspended animation. He sometimes thought it would be better to be inside those pods.

“I’m going to take a nap HAL.”

“That should be restful David.”

The Discovery was like a submarine which drifted through space instead of the deep ocean. There were very few places one could find privacy.

“Play something classical HAL.”

David laid back on the sleep chamber.

HAL had chosen Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony

David let the timeless beauty of the music relax him.  He tried to imagine a perfect day in the country back on Earth but instead he saw Frank running towards him the tight t-shirt displaying his friends muscular physique

“Let go work out bud.”

Frank and David had been chosen over thousands of qualified candidates. They both were highly intelligent and physically fit for space travel.

“We got to get laid before the trip bud no pussy for two years!’

Frank was straight and had girlfriend. David had never revealed that he was gay. He was not ashamed, but he knew there were still a level of homophobia in the space program administration.  

“It’s only us guys out there.”

David imagined Frank stripping of his sweaty running clothes.

“You are so hot man.”

David began to jerk off.

“I want you, Frank.”

David was near orgasm when he was interrupted by the computer

“What are you doing David?”

 “HAL, were you watching me? “

David said covering his cock.

“I’m sorry David its sounded as if you need help.”

“No HAL I’m fine”

“Do you want me to contact Frank.?”

“No just turn off the lights I need to sleep.”

    

Frank  was sitting inside one of the space pods. Tinkering with the control panel HAL had reported there was a malfunction. Frank could not find anything wrong. The supercomputer was always right but it seemed to have made a mistake this time. Poole was not in the best of moods. He had just learned that his earth-bound girl friend had dumped him for another man. Poole tried to concentrate on his work when he heard a tap on the pods window.

“How is it going?”

Frank looked up and saw David standing in the pod bay.

 “Can I speak with you?”

Frank had noticed that his usually calm ship mate seemed upset.

“HAL open the pod door.”

The computer followed the command.

“What’s up?”

David stepped into the pod and sat next to Frank.

“Shut the pod door HAL” Bowman said.

“David is something wrong?”

“Can  it hear us in here?” Bowman whispered pointing to HAL’s unblinking camera.

“No if I shut of the com” Poole did that.

“HAL open the door!’

There was no response.

“There you go.”

“I wanted some actual privacy.”

Bowman and Poole face each other. The two men were almost identical 30 years old 5’ 10”.  Poole was more muscular than Bowman.  They were the perfect poster boys for the space program .

“I think HAL is spying on us.”

“He is just doing his job.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Why are you being so paranoid.”

“I was having some alone time.” Dave whispered

“You mean jerking off.”

“Yeah, that and HAL saw me “

“You think he got turned on?”

“No, he is a computer.”

“Yeah, but his voice sounds kind of gay” Frank laughed

“Can you be serious!”

 “That’s whenever I feel like jerking off, I get in here” Poole said.

“But he can see you through the window.”

Poole turned on the intercom “HAL rotate the pod.”

The computer followed the direction.

“See what I mean” 

“I wish I had thought of this.”

Bowman punched Poole on the shoulder.

“Whip it out bud.”

“Now?!”

“Yeah, I feel like it” Pooled rubbed the fabric between his legs.

“Never done it with another guy?”

David could feel his dick getting hard.

“Well, we go not women around here.”

Frank unzipped his pants revealing his hard cock.

“That’s true”

David stare at Frank’s eight-inch dick

“Let’s see yours David.”

David took out his dick.

The two men started to jerk off.

“Stroking feels good”

David looked over to Frank who had his eyes closed.

“What are you thinking about? “

“A mouth on my cock”

David jerked off faster keeping up the pace with Frank.

“That would be nice.”

“Sure would”

David felt Franks hand on his hard shaft.’

“What are you doing Frank?’ 

“Helping you out?”

David reached over and started to pump Frank’s cock.

“Yeah, this feels great.”

“Oh man yes”

David could not believe this was really happening.

‘Going to cum soon”

“Me too”

The men jerked off until they reached orgasm.

“Oh shit”

David looked down and saw Frank’s cum on his hand.

“Nice load bud”

Frank reached down for a rag and wiped his hands.

“We need to do this again.”

Frank handed David the rag.

“Yeah sure” David said.

Poole turned on the intercom “Open the pod door HAL.”

“Frank I- ‘

“Everything will be fine David.”

David wanted to tell Frank about his romantic feelings  but all he did was smile at his friend. 

“Next time “he thought.

David watched the handsome Poole walked out of the pod area. He could not wait to make love to that man.

“Next time I’ll tell you how I feel” Bowman thought.

But there would be no next time.

SOMEWHERE BEYOND KNOWN SPACE

David Bowman could not believe that what he was experiencing was real. He was seeing sights not human had ever beheld before.

“Oh God “he felt the space pod vibrate as it seems to pass through the black monolith which he had encountered orbiting Jupiter.

The object was a doorway into another dimension of known space.

“Too much too much” David shut his eyes but could still feel his body pulled by a cosmic force that was beyond comprehension. Then suddenly it all came to stop.

David opened his eyes.

He was standing in the center of elegant room that one would find in a fancy European hotel

“What is this place? “

David saw a table filled with real food not the synthetic creations he had been eating for the past months. David removed his helmet and sat at the table. The food was real and as delicious as it looked.

David had the feeling that someone was watching him.

“Is anybody there?” he thought 

David finished his meal. He got up and walked towards the king size bed which dominated the other side of the chamber. David stripped of his uniform. He collapsed on to the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

“Wake up Bowman”

David heard the familiar voice and thought he was still dreaming.

“Come on David”

David opened his eyes and was shocked to see Frank Poole standing at the foot of his bed wearing a bath robe

“Frank? “David thought he was seeing a ghost.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

David sat in bed and realized he was naked.

“Here you go buddy.”  Frank said as he handed David a robe.

“I don’t believe this” David said as he got out of the bed.

“It’s all real.”

“But I saw you die.”

David had seen Frank’s lifeless body floating in space after HAL had killed him.

“They must have found me “

“They?”

“Yes, whoever brought us here?”

“Have you seen them?”

“No but they are very nice hosts.”

David stared at Frank he could still not believe his friend was alive.

“Let’s have breakfast.”

David followed Frank to the dining area where the table was not overflowing with breakfast food eggs, bacon, pastries

“I’m not hungry right now.”

Frank picked up a slice of bacon and ate it

“These are surprisingly good.”

David kept staring at Frank.

 ‘How can I be sure you’re not some sort of hologram.?”

“Touch me “

David reached out and felt Frank’s arm.

“But how did they bring you back to life?

“Their science is so advance it’s like magic to us.”

David grabbed Frank and kissed him on the mouth; if Frank was an illusion, he was very convincing one.

“I missed you so much.”

Frank gently pushed David away

“Easy man”

“Don’t you want me?’’

Frank took of his robe revealing a muscular body.

“I do”

David got naked too.

“Come here “

David and Frank kissed their hard cock rubbing up against each other.

“You think they are watching us “

“Let’s give them a show!’

The aliens were watching. It was not the first time they had witness men having sex.

“Suck my cock  bud.”

Frank and David had ended up on the bed sucking each other’s hard dicks.

“Eat my ass.”

David rimmed Frank’s hairy butt hole.

“I want to you to fuck me, David.”

Frank guided his lover’s hard cock towards his ass.

“Take it man.”

David rammed his dick into David’s hole.

“Oh yeah!”

Frank felt intense pleasure as he felt David’s cock inside him.

“Love it man.”

David kept fucking Frank.

“Give me your load!’

David ejaculated into his lover’s ass.

“So good”

Frank jerked off until he too felt an orgasm.

“Love you “

David and Frank looked up and saw the black monolith standing at the foot of their bed. There was a bright light glowing from within the monolith.

“What do you think will happen next?”

“I don’t care as long we face it together.”

The two men held each other ready for the next step in their cosmic adventure.

THE END?

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Authors note:This story was inspired by the classic science fiction film co-written by Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C Clarke. Clarke was gay. I hope he would find this take on his story satisfying.

©2025 Jaradonfiction

The polished shoes of Daniel Whitaker clicked softly against the jet bridge floor as he boarded his first-class flight from Chicago to Nashville. At thirty-five, Daniel had grown used to the rituals of business travel: the brisk pace through security, the practiced smile for airline staff, the way first-class boarding felt less like luxury and more like armor before a trial.

He was a thirty-something Chicago attorney, lean at six feet, the kind of build that came from disciplined early-morning workouts, with shoulders cut sharp and muscles that pressed lightly against his tailored suits. He adored his wife, and the two children they were raising together, bringing him more joy than he ever thought possible. 

His complexion was clear and fair, his jawline clean and firm, with a calm intensity in his gray-blue eyes.  Their home in the suburbs had become a sanctuary, a place where routines felt safe and grounding.  He had an easy grace about him and thrived in the steady rhythm of the life they had built.  Yet, beneath the layers of contentment, there was a secret that rarely surfaced, that he’d never acted upon, that lived quietly in the back of his mind.

He knew this trip was different.  Could change his life and the life of his family if he were successful.  He wasn’t just flying in for any case—he was lead counsel on the kind of high-profile corporate trial that could shift his career overnight. His mind was focused on the importance of this trip, when he caught the eye of the man sitting in the cockpit.

He turned as Daniel passed.  Danniel thought the pilot had a cocky grin on his face and eyes that lingered a heartbeat longer than they needed to but dismissed it as his imagination.  Men had hit on him before.  It comes with the territory when you’re a fit, good-looking guy, but this felt different.

Broad-shouldered, silver at the temples, uniform pressed to perfection. He looked to be in his fifties but carried himself with the grounded ease of someone utterly at home in the sky. His nameplate read Captain R. Maddox. When Daniel met his eyes—steady, blue, disarmingly direct—it felt less like an airline courtesy and more like being seen.  This encounter was special.  Daniel could tell.  He could just feel it.

“Welcome aboard,” Maddox said, voice warm with a Nashville drawl that hinted at hospitality and authority in equal measure. “Heading down with us today?” 

“Yes, sir,” Daniel nodded, the pilot smiled at being called sir. 

“Daniel Whitaker,” he said, clearly embarrassed, reaching out to shake the pilot’s hand.  Maddox squeezed his hand with strength and confidence, holding it a second or two too long, Daniel thought.

“Flying in for a trial,” Daniel added.  Unsure why, but needing, for some reason, to try and impress the older man. 

Maddox’s mouth curved, and he seemed to scrutinize the young lawyer, unnerving him.  It’s almost as if the pilot could read his thoughts.  “A lawyer,” he repeated, letting the word roll across his tongue with a sexy smile.  “Figures.  You’ve got that…sharp look about you.”  The compliment made Daniel smile with pride, because it didn’t feel like a snipe against lawyers or a polite comment from a stranger.  It felt more like a something someone who knew him intimately might say, maybe adding “son” at the end.

“Come on.  Few minutes before pushback.  Let me give you a peek at where the magic happens,” said the friendly pilot.

Before Daniel could respond, Maddox gestured him forward, into the cockpit. The space smelled of steel, leather, and faint jet fuel, alive with the quiet hum of electronics.  The fronts of their bodies pressed against each other as Daniel passed into the tight space.  The pilot seemed to push into Daniel more than make room, pressing their chests and crotches together.  The captain’s hand brushed his arm as he guided him to the copilot’s seat.  He explained dials and controls with the practiced pride of someone sharing his second home.  The pilot’s hand, tightly around the yoke, as Daniel stared, moved his hand with a subtle movement, up and down, demonstrating the control.  “Or was he?” thought Daniel, confused.

Keeping his eyes intensely on Daniel’s, the pilot rose from his seat, helping Daniel from his, closing the small distance between them in the narrow space.  “Well, Counselor, you’ll be taken care of on this flight.  I’ll see to it personally,” assured Maddox with his hand brushing the small of his back. 

Daniel settled into his wide leather seat, as he heard Maddox tell the lead flight attendant, “Mr. Whitaker’s in our care tonight,” he drawled, making the phrase sound almost intimate, but Daniel thought he must be imagining that as well.  People just doing their job, he thought.

The seatbelt sign hadn’t yet gone dark when Daniel felt the weight of the captain’s presence again. Not directly – Maddox was at the front, speaking with the attendants in low tones—but the ripple of his authority was obvious. One of the flight attendants approached Daniel’s row with a practiced smile, offering a glass of champagne before the tray tables were even stowed.

“Compliments of the captain,” she said softly.

Daniel raised the glass, catching Maddox’s glance from the galley. The captain didn’t smile this time, not fully. Just the faintest acknowledgment – a narrowing of eyes, the corner of his mouth tightening – as if they shared a secret.

Cruising altitude came with the usual hush of first class: quiet conversations, the muted clink of glassware, the steady thrum of engines beneath their feet. Maddox emerged once, making his way slowly through the cabin under the pretense of checking on the crew. His gaze lingered when he reached Daniel.

“Everything comfortable, Counselor?” he asked, stopping just long enough for the drawl to stretch around the title.

Daniel inclined his head, fingers brushing the stem of his glass. “Very. You run a tight ship.”

“Always do,” Maddox replied. His hand touched the top of Daniel’s seat, knuckles grazing the leather. “Can’t afford otherwise. Lives at stake. Trust at stake.” His eyes held Daniel’s, steady, until the silence between them thickened. “I think my stepsons might accuse me of the same thing – running a tight ship,” he added.  Then, with the faintest lift of his brow, a slight brush to the back of Daniel’s neck, he moved on.

Daniel sighed and leaned back into the soft leather.  The cabin noise swelled – doors closing, safety announcements – but beneath it, Daniel felt like a small amount of turbulence had already begun.

The plane took off flawlessly and reached a cruising altitude, turning off the fasten seat belt sign.

A chime sounded and then Maddox’s voice came over the intercom—low, smooth, threaded with a Nashville drawl that seemed to wrap itself around every passenger’s attention.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking, Robert Maddox, and I’d like to welcome you aboard flight 237 with service from Chicago to Nashville. We’re looking at a smooth ride tonight—clear skies most of the way, cruising altitude of thirty-six thousand feet. Should be about an hour and forty minutes in the air, just long enough to settle in, have a drink, and let us do the work.”

A pause. Then, his tone shifted just slightly—less scripted, more personal, like a private aside.

“Now, I know you’ve all had your share of long days. Maybe your trip to Nashville is for pleasure or for challenging tasks in your work but consider this your chance to let go a little. My crew and I will take good care of you – you won’t have to lift a finger, except maybe to raise a glass.”

A soft chuckle carried through the speaker, warm and confident.

“From the flight deck, I can already see a fine night waiting for us in Nashville.   We’ll get you there safely, and if I do my job right, you might even wish the flight lasted a little longer.”

Daniel drained the last of the champagne in two neat swallows, softening the edge of his thoughts, yet making every detail sharper, especially the awareness that Captain Maddox was just beyond that locked cockpit door.  He couldn’t help but believe that Maddox’s comment about his sons was some sort of message for him.

A whiskey arrived, unasked for. “The captain suggested you might prefer something stronger,” the attendant murmured, almost conspiratorial. Daniel let himself smile, though his pulse ticked faster than the easy expression suggested.

90 minutes passed in an odd suspension—reading briefs without absorbing them, sipping slowly, eyes drifting toward the front of the plane every time he heard movement.  He was apprehensive, nervous – which were not things he usually experienced. He got up and traveled the short distance to the bathroom in front.  Locking the door, he splashed cold water on his face. Staring at himself in the mirror, as he dried his face, he decided these unusual emotions were about the tasks ahead and the importance of the next day’s trial. 

Daniel returned to his seat, to the sound of Maddox’s voice over the intercom, wishing the passengers a pleasant evening in Nashville and instructing them to fasten their seatbelts and prepare for landing.

By the time wheels touched down in Nashville, Daniel’s head carried the glow of champagne and a stiff drink, steady but softened. He moved with the other first-class passengers down the jet bridge, the warm, damp air of a Tennessee night rushing in. He had wanted to find a way to thank Captain Maddox before deplaning, and though the cockpit door was open, it was clear that Maddox was busy with postflight routines. 

Daniel collected his bag at baggage claim and stepped into the heavy, humid night. Travelers spilled into taxi lines, ride-shares flickered their headlights at the curb, and the whine of rolling suitcases tangled with voices in the air.

Daniel spotted him immediately. 

The captain, cap tucked under his arm now, uniform jacket unbuttoned, leaning against a column as though waiting for someone. When their eyes met, it was obvious – the captain was waiting for him. 

“Counselor,” Maddox inquired, pushing off the column.  His smile wasn’t for the crowd.  It was pointed, deliberate.  “You got a ride to the city?” 

Daniel hesitated. He could have lied, said yes, brushed it off. Instead, something reckless flickered to life, fed by whiskey and that look. “Not yet.”

‘Over here, then.” Maddox urged, his voice steady and low, moving to the curb where a black town car was idling.  He opened the door with an easy gesture, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Daniel hesitated for only a moment before sliding inside.  The leather was cool, the space dim and hushed after the chaos outside.  Maddox gave their bags to the driver and climbed in beside him, close enough that Daniel could feel the faint brush of his shoulder as the door thudded shut.  The driver’s partition was drawn, leaving them alone.  Maddox leaned back in the seat and appraised the young lawyer.

“Didn’t take you for the town car type,” Daniel teased, breaking what he felt was an uncomfortable silence, his voice a little rough from the whiskey.

“Perk of seniority. Airline wants its captains rested and punctual. I just make sure the ride doesn’t go to waste.” His eyes shifted, catching Daniel’s profile in the passing glow of streetlights. “Besides—makes it easier to see someone gets where he needs to go.”  He leaned closer, his voice smooth, measured, brushing the edge of Daniel’s composure. “What kind of business keeps a lawyer flying first class?”

“A trial,” Daniel managed, his throat dry, eyes locked on the smear of headlights and neon racing by. “High stakes. Corporate fraud.”

Maddox’s mouth curved, the faintest suggestion of a smile. “That must cause turbulence too.  Different from mine but I guess everyone gets used to it—whether in the air, or in life. Either you learn to ride it out… or it eats you alive.”  He stretches his arm and lays it on the back of Daniel’s seat. 

“So, Daniel, my boy, let me ask you a question?”  Maddox asked

“Sure thing, sir,” Daniel swallowed, pulse stuttering. 

“Have you been flirting with me tonight?”  Maddox teased with a big smile on his face. 

“What, sir?  Uhhhhhhh…” blurted out Daniel, clearly panicked.  “Not really sure what you mean?” he added, too quickly, the words tumbling out like a defense. 

Maddox’s tone softened, quiet but firm. “You don’t have to apologize for wanting something. There’s nothing wrong with it.” He let the silence hang for a moment, then added, “Least of all with me.”

Daniel’s chest tightened, the words seemed like a threat but also an invitation. He risked a glance sideways—and found Maddox watching him, steady, unflinching.

“The minute I saw you, Daniel, boarding the plane tonight, I saw something in you that I recognized,” the pilot explained.  “It’s something that I’ve recognized in my own stepsons.”

Daniel just listened, without saying a word, staring intently at Maddox.

“It’s a sensibility that you seem to share with one of them,” explained the pilot further.  “Our flirting tonight made me certain I was correct, and I think I can help.”

“Now I’m totally confused,” confessed Daniel.

“I’m very close to my two stepsons.  Their mother died at a very young age, and it has always just been them and me.  I know them both equally as well as I know anyone.  We share everything with each other, but they couldn’t be more different.  My older stepson, Kaine, was the typical athletic boy’s boy – liked anything outside, competitive, and masculine.  His taste for and need to have women sexually developed very early.  He’s obsessed with pussy.  He can’t get enough of it.  He seeks it out every moment he can and rarely is he satisfied.  But that, my boy, doesn’t seem to ring true for you.”

“OK?” Daniel stammered.

“My younger stepson, Kyle, seems more like you.  Unlike his brother, he was much more sensitive and kinder, feminine even – not so much in his mannerisms but in his sensibilities.  He was still very competitive and driven but his focus was much more on close and intense relationships. And though he has and had relationships, both friendly and sexual with women, these special relationships were always with men.”

Daniel doesn’t say a word, but Maddox noticed a kind of sigh from him and knows his intuition was correct. 

“I became aware of Kyle’s obsession from a very young age.  He used to love to watch me shave.  I would be naked, he’d sit on the toilet, and we’d talk every morning.  I quickly noticed his intense interest in my penis.  He was fascinated by it.  Watched it move as I shaved.  He constantly asked me questions about it.  My scrotum was equally fascinating to him.” 

Daniel is still silent but Maddox notices a slight movement in the crotch of the young lawyer’s pants and smiles.

“He loved to sit on Daddy’s lap,” Maddox continues. “Far past the time that others thought appropriate.  He’d snuggle up to my chest and make sure my penis settled between his two butt cheeks.”

No one could have missed that Daniel’s thick cock was growing and tenting the front of his suit pants.  Maddox couldn’t help but notice how much Daniel needed and wanted to adjust it.

“Go ahead, my boy,” Maddox said, rubbing the front of Daniel’s pants.  “Don’t be uncomfortable.”  Daniel sheepishly lifted his ass from the seat and moved his erect cock to a better position in his slacks and settled back in his seat. 

“Thank you, sir,” Daniel said appreciatively.  Maddox smiled and tousled his hair.   

 “Eventually, as he grew older,” Maddox continued, “During our shaving sessions, Jason asked to touch both my penis and scrotum.  I allowed it simply because I didn’t want him to attach shame to his exploration.  He wanted to lift and play with my testicles and hold and rub my penis.”

“The same thing happened with sitting in my lap, it became more erotic, he began to rock and move so I’d get an erection so he could feel my hard rod inside the crevice of his butt.   We’d always have to change his pajamas before bed because they’d be so wet and sticky with precum.  He’d always insist on licking the wet spot as he put on his clean pair.” 

Smiling at the recollection, Maddox urges, “And you, my boy, I think are just like him.  Is that true, Daniel?”

Daniel just stares at Maddox, as if weighing his answer.

“Is that true, Daniel?” asked Maddox

Daniel says nothing but nods his head in affirmation.

“I became concerned because it was clear my son had an obsession that he couldn’t control but asking these questions and attempting to try these things with any other men would be very dangerous. So, Jason’s brother and I decided there is something we could do for him and, that was to let him have our cocks, whenever and however he wanted them.  It made it safer for him.  It made it easier for him.” 

Maddox unzipped his pants and revealed the front of his underwear, wet with precum, where the outline of his stupendous member was uncovered so Daniel could see and appreciate it.

“So have my cock, Daniel.  Enjoy it.  It’s our secret.  No one will ever know.  Be the cock hound that I know you are.  Daddy gives you permission to use his cock however you need.”

Daniel just stared at the outline of the large, veiny rod, straining to stick straight up in Maddox’s lap. Relief.  Arousal. Freedom.  All in equal measure, washed over him.  He was amazed at its size, at the girth, the thickness.  “It’s beautiful,” he thinks.  “It’s mine.”

He quickly starts undressing, getting out of his clothes as fast as he can, until he’s completely naked.  He then crawls across the seat, his cock thick, hard and rigid.  Maddox motions a welcome above his cock, with both hands, silently give Daniel permission to do whatever he desires.

Daniel laid his face in Maddox’s lap and breathed in, tonguing his underwear and sucking on the head of his cock, getting it soaking wet and sucking the precum through the cloth at the head of the erection.  He slowly pulls the waist band down, letting the massive member pop up and slap his face.  He pressed his face against it, slapping his jaw, rubbing the shaft so precum spread all over his face. 

He grips the shaft, tonguing the head, spreading jizz all over to lubricate it.  He uses both hands to pump it up and down, pressing his nose into the pubes, breathing in deeply, nibbling into the hair and licking and sucking – inhaling the scent, devouring it.  Maddox sits with his hands behind his head, just allowing Daniel full access and the freedom to do anything he wants with the ample phallus.  He pulls out the large, hefty balls, hanging loosely in their sack.  He touches each one and hefts them together, rolling them in his fingers. 

“That’s it, baby.  Daddy’s balls are yours to play with too.”

Daniel puts his nose into the middle of the scrotum and begins biting the skin softly, licking each testicle and putting it in his mouth, sucking on each one like a lollipop.  He licks them and suckles the skin of the scrotum, pulling on the sack and watching them move around.  He lays his head in the pilot’s lap, licking the base of his cock.

“Don’t be afraid to suck it, baby.  Daddy wants you to take it in your mouth.”

Daniel moves into a full-scale assault on the impressive rod. Sucking the head again, moving it around to each side of his mouth with his tongue, and then licking down every inch of the shaft, sucking the sides. Taking as much length and girth as he can, gurgling and guzzling, sucking and devouring.  Maddox’s manhood intoxicates him.

“Good boy.  Put it all in your mouth, baby.  Take Daddy deep.”

Daniel breathes through his nose to take every inch possible and after gagging and popping up for air, opens his throat to take more.  He’s wild.  Worshipping.  Both hands grasp the base, nestled in his pubic hair, squeezing and gripping it tightly, pumping slowly while the flawless dick goes down his throat.

Daniel pulls his face out of Maddox’s lap and says, “Daddy, I need you naked.  Please get naked.  I want to touch everything.”

Daniel lays down beside him on the seat as Maddox pulls his pants and underwear down first, revealing his strong and muscled legs.  Dragging off his pilot’s jacket and his shirt at the same time, two broad shoulders appear, showing his hairy, sweaty chest that Daniel wants to lose himself in.  He crawls on top, tasting the salt on his skin around the two pink nipples, gently biting one, making Maddox flinch and suck in air.  He shifts to the other nipple and licks it too, biting down harder.  Maddox begins to groan, as he licks and slurps across his chest, sticking his nose in hairy underarms as if memorizing the scent. 

Daniel throws apart his legs over Maddox’s lap, nestling the pilot’s hard cock between his butt cheeks and pulls Maddox into a passionate embrace, kneading back muscles and squeezing biceps and simply holding onto that firm, masculine frame.  He plunges his tongue into Maddox’s mouth, and the pilot kisses him back just as passionately.  Tongues fight each other and Daniel devours his mouth. 

Launching himself to the floor, Daniel pulls Maddox’s legs apart exposing his sweaty, hairy hole and he pushes his face into the crack and begins to wildly tongue, lick and suck on the pilot’s hole, biting the cheeks, kissing them, assaulting them with abandon.  He shakes his face between the cheeks, losing himself in all the tastes, smells and sensations.  Madly devouring the man’s hole.

Daniel crawls back up into Maddox’s lap, with his back to his chest and the pilot’s strong arms pull him in.  The pilot reaches into a pocket on the side door of the limo, pulling out a bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount on Daniel’s hand.

“Get yourself ready, baby, for Daddy’s massive cock!”

With all sense of modesty gone, Daniel throws his legs up, spreading the lube all over his hole and crack, sinking one, then two and then three fingers.  Fucking himself hard.  Maddox, with lube on his fingers, takes three fingers, sinks them all the way into Daniel’s ass, spreads them in and out repeatedly to open up the lips of the man’s pussy.

“Turn around and squat on my cock, baby,” Maddox instructs, “That way you can take it as slowly as you want.”

Maddox’s strong hands hold onto Daniel’s knees to keep him from dropping too fast onto his meaty pecker. The big mushroom head eases into him, his tight sphincter clamping down just behind the hard rim of his dick head.  The first half of the pilot’s shaft pops inside his lubed hole, hitting that magic spot inside of him.  He squealed from the intense burst of pleasure.  He jerked forward and then felt that intense pleasure again as he leaned backward.  Daniel’s hard cock was dripping on his stomach.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, baby!  Milk me with your ass!”

Maddox let Daniel do just that, the lawyer bouncing madly up and down, using his ass muscles to squeeze and stroke his cock.  The look on Daniel’s face was somewhere between ecstasy and joy.

Now Maddox used his solid body to thrust up against him, starting to meet each one of Daniel’s bounces, grinding himself up into Daniel’s ass. With each push-and-pull motion of his hips, Daniel could feel every vein on the pilot’s thick meat throb inside his asshole.  Maddox’s hands slipped down to his ass, kneading his cheeks.  Daniel’s cock was oozing like a faucet, slapping against his thighs and stomach, spreading precum all over himself.  

He groaned, pushing back against the pistoning cock below him, and the pilot sped up.  Maddox’s hands slid from his ass to his hips, pulling Daniel’s knees up into his chest, focusing that hole to take his cock as deeply as possible.

Daniel grabbed his cock suddenly, opening his mouth to yell out that he was cumming but all he could produce was a high-pitched cry.  At that instant, he felt like someone had plugged his erection into an electrical socket.  Uncontrollable spasms ran through his whole body and thick spasms of seed splattered his chest, his neck, his face and his hair.  Spurt after spurt covered him.

Maddox bottomed out in his ass, his hairy body sliding hard against Daniel’s, balls slapping pubes to ass.  His ass squeezed Maddox’s cock so hard when he orgasmed, he thought it might squeeze his dick off.  He held on to him, keeping him still while he emptied his hot load in his guts.  The force of it jolted him.  Daniel could feel every squirt of Maddox’s load as it filled the depths of his ass. 

Maddox, keeping his dick in Daniel’s ass, turned him around to face him, legs on either side of his lap, covering his lips with his and holding him.  Daniel’s face pressed into his chest, tears streaming down his face. 

“Thank you, sir, “ Daniel gushed. “Thank you.”

“It was my gift to give.”

They stayed like that until Maddox softened and his cock fell out of Daniel’s ass.  Semen flowed onto his lap, cock and balls.

“I’m going to need you to clean me up, baby,” whispered Maddox.

Daniel fell to the floor of the limo again, cleaning up the pilot and himself, using his tongue to leave no trace of their blasts.

Putting back on their clothes, Maddox comforted Daniel and listened as he explained how desperate he had been to have such an experience and how deeply it had changed him, something he could tell no one else in the world.

Maddox held Daniel in his arms until he was ready to leave, having shared as much as he needed. 

Good luck with your trial tomorrow, Daniel,” said Maddox. “Maybe Daddy can come see you in action some time.”

 Daniel smiled, not really believing Maddox, thanking him again, giving him a passionate kiss and exiting the town car at the front door of his hotel, forever changed.

To be continued..

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As I’m waking up and sleep fog clears my brain. I realize I’m rock hard! Yes, morning wood but harder than usual! I move and stretch and reach my hand down to give my cock a couple of lazy strokes. As my hand is making its way over my abs, I realize my balls feel different. So, I slide down my…yep extremely hard cock to cup my balls and feel that something is tied around my balls!

Instantly the night before comes slamming into my memory!!

I don’t remember falling asleep! I was so busy thinking about everything and processing! I wasn’t going to leave that shoelace on. But I guess I did and fell asleep.

I wonder was he serious about leaving it on?

How will that work?

Do I really want a full time Sir?

It doesn’t make me gay, I’m still straight?

So many questions!

Last night was like nothing I have experienced before with those other guys! I guess that means if I do want a full commitment. Sir would be the one. I know I want more of that high he invoked!

I roll out of bed to get up and reach for my phone. I sit on the edge of the bed and check the notifications.

There is a message from Sir on the app. I open it and see it’s his phone number with a message to take a pic of my junk and send it to him there.

So I set him up in my phone and take a picture of my cock mostly soft now making sure to show the shoelace.

-Morning Sir

It’s only a minute before I get a response!

-Morning sub f. Your name will be f.

Hot pic. Happy to see lace in place.

Does that mean you want something more permanent between us?

My mind hasn’t woken up yet and all this coming at me! I drop the phone and head into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later I come back into the bedroom.

Sit naked on the side of the bed and look at my tied balls hanging between my spread legs.

What is wrong with me? I don’t hate it! It feels good actually! It looks kinda hot there!

I pic up the phone and take another pic.

-Sir I think I want to try this whole thing out. I don’t know what it means or looks like. But I haven’t experienced anything like last night before. I want more of that. (Pic attachment)

-That’s good to hear. That’s a very hot pic too f! We will go over all the details. Just know what I say goes. I don’t like to wait. Try not to disappoint me. You won’t like the results.

-Thank you, Sir! I will try my best. I need to get ready for work now.

Over the next few days I learned about Sirs rules over text. He was always wanting proof pics that the lace was in place. I did take it off to shower to keep it dry. But otherwise, it stayed on. Thankfully changing at the gym, I never really changed my underwear, so no one saw.

Sir and I have set a meet up for tomorrow night, but tonight I’m meeting up with some of my friends for drinks at pub. We were heading out from the gym, so I had taken fresh clothes with me. I didn’t want to shower and either take lace off or deal with it wet after. I just changed and put a hat on to hide my sweaty hair.

The pub was fairly crowded, so we stood at the bar waiting for a table to open up. A few of the guys have girlfriends who know each other, and they met us there with some of there girl friends. One I have seen before, and thought was cute. After a bit some people went to play pool or darts. Since a table wasn’t opening up. I had been chatting the cute girl a bit, working up the nerve to get her phone number. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and realized I missed a text from Sir. I had told him I would be out and didn’t expect to hear from him. I checked the time of the message, knowing he likes prompt responses! I breathed a sigh of relief; it had only been a couple of minutes.

I opened the message, and it was a pic. Of me! Here at the bar, taken now!

-I believe this is my hat, to be worn just for me! Yet we are not to be together till tomorrow night!

I closed my eyes! Fuck I forgot he said that! It’s my favorite hat and just grabbed it without thinking! I scanned the bar to see if I could see him! But it was crowded! I excused myself to the girl and beelined for the bathroom. As I wove my way around people and tables, trying to think of what to do or say!

Thankfully once I got to the bathroom there was a stall free! I went in dropped my pants and took a pic of my balls. Then ripe the hat off my head, and held it by my cock and balls, and took another one!

-Sir, I’m sorry! I forgot you said that about the hat in my haze that night! I didn’t mean to disrespect or disobey you!

I sent the message and the two pics! While I waited for his response I did up my pants.

-Nice pics f, I will remember them when I give you a punishment and maybe go a bit easy. Maybe. You will leave the pub and go home, your free time is over for today!

-Yes Sir, I understand Sir, I will message when I am home!

I stood there in the stall a minute. Am I really going to leave because he says so? Is he even still out there? After another minute I decide that if I wanted the control, I have to take it all the time! The bathroom door is close to an exit door, so I just slip out, so I don’t have to make excuses to everyone.

 

I’m standing outside the hotel waiting for a few minutes to pass. This is our second time meeting up, he has chosen the same hotel. I walk into the bar and spot him sitting at the end. I walk over and take the seat next to him.

“Hello Sir.”

“Hello f, right on time. Shall we go up? You don’t need drink?’

“Yes Sir, I’m ready when you are Sir.”

It’s the same room as before, which I think I take comfort in. But I stand just in the door too long and he tells me to strip! That word makes my insides do things, it’s dirtier than saying, “take your clothes off”!

Once I am naked, except the hat, I kneel down.

“Come in front of me f. Kneel and present here.”

I crawl over and get close to the chair and kneel with me hands behind my neck.

“I trust last night with the hat was n honest mistake f, but honest or not, mistakes must be paid for. You will kneel there and keep your hands clasped. Do not move your hands!”

With that he reached out, grabbing my balls in his had and started squeezing! At first it wasn’t too bad, but his grip strength kept getting stronger! After a couple of minutes, he leaned forward so he could use both hands!! It was all I could do to keep my hands clasped! I thought I might pull my own fingers out of their sockets! My body was shaking and sweating! I was trying not to make much noise.

Finally, he stopped and sat back in his chair.

I was breathing heavy and sweating like I had worked out for hours!

“I’m sure that will help your memory f.”

“Thank you, Sir! You know best, Sir!” my voice was shaky.

“As a bonus thought, your balls look very pretty that red color!” he said as he stood up and opened his pants.

 Taking out his hard cock, he held the base with one hand. Reached behind my head with the other and pushed it forward till his cock pushed against my lips.

I opened my mouth. He kept pushing till my nose hit his pubes! Once I started to gage, he moved his hand. I started sucking his cock, still with my hands behind my head. I ran my tongue along the veins of his cock on the way down and sucked hard on the way up!

After a bit, he took my hat off, and as he started to run his hands through my hair and almost pet me. He said, “Good faggot, such a good cock sucker you are. Even with your balls on fire, you make sure its good for me!”

He never stopped talking the whole time I sucked. Like with each time he said faggot, I tried to suck harder!

I’m not sure how long I sucked his cock. But my arms ached, my jaw ached, my knees ached. There was a puddle of drool on the floor.

Both hands landed at the back of my head and slammed my face to his pubes and held me there! I felt his cock pulse!

“Swallow it all you fucking faggot cock sucker!! And everything went white!!

There I was floating again! Sir pulled out of my mouth, and he unclasped my hands and moved my arms down! Then he started to stroke my hard cock! It was like I was watching from somewhere outside my body! Yet I could feel my arms start to tingle and burn with the blood flow restored! At the same time my orgasm barreled threw me! I came in the puddle of drool on the floor.

Talk about overload! I just stay kneeling for a bit and Sir did up his pants and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I realized we never used the bed yet.

“Clean up the floor f, like a good fag, then you can get dressed and go home.”

I knew I needed to lick the floor clean; I didn’t want him to hold my balls like last time! They couldn’t take any more abuse tonight! So, I got busy cleaning it up. After I staggered to the bathroom, to wash up a bit and get dressed. I knew I was going to be all kinds of sore tomorrow!