Author: admin

  • Being a Boot Bitch

    I’m Jack and Jimmy is a pretty black femboy.  He is my bitch who I love dearly.  I love fucking Jimmy while he licks the insides of one my boots or hi top sneaks.  Like me, Jimmy has a fetish for boots and gets hard licking my pretty boot.  I love seeing Jimmy in white cowboy boots,  hi top white Chucks and white  Keds.  The white looks so good against his beautiful black  skin. Jimmy is 22 years old, 5-9, weighs, 150 lbs  and .  He wears clothes that feature his tight ass and beautiful body.  Jimmy wears cropped  black leather jeans or shorts with cool boots or high top sneaks.  Jimmy  wears white pearl necklaces that contrast with his  gorgeous black skin.  He enjoys diamond earrings on each ear.

    Today he is wearing  his shorty white cowboy boots and is licking the beautiful red leather that lines my special St. Laurant “Jonny” boots in black patent leather.  I love wearing these boots with 3” heels.  They have a side zipper and are a tight fit.  I like a tight fitting boot like a tight ass.. My foot sweats and stains the red leather.  Jimmy loves the smell of the red leather as he licks  it. My 7”  gets so hard looking at Jimmy enjoying the interior of my gorgeous boot. With Jimmy on his hands and knees I slide my dick up and down his crack.  Precum starts to ooze out of my dick onto his crack and  his pretty black hole. It glistens  there inviting me to rim it which I do.  I love the taste of Jimmy’s beautiful black hole.

    “Fuck me, Boss.  I need your cock inside me now.”

    I oblige my bitch and plunge my cock into Jimmy’s pretty black ass.  I love his hot ass and like to work it as I fuck Jimmy.

    “Your ass is pretty and so hot.  I love fucking you while you lick my boot.”

     After a while, I reach for Jimmy’s erection and start  to jerk it.  I am getting close to climaxing and want Jimmy to shoot his load at the same time I come.

    “Come on my pretty boot, bitch.”

     We  shoot our loads with some exploding on the red leather. AUUUUUUUUH.

    I take the heel of the boot and start to lick his cum on the inside of my boot.  Holding the high heel and licking his cum, I get hard again.

    “Fuck, your warm cum tastes so good on the red leather.”

    We  lay there embracing each other, taking turns licking and kissing my boot.

    “We love our fuckin boots don’t we, Jimmy. I am going to lick your pretty white cowboy boot”

    I love these cute boots and take the toe in my mouth and suck it while I stroke the white leather shaft.

    “Fuck me, Jimmy with your boot.  I love the feel of a boot up my ass.”

    The wet toe of his white boot  slides into my hole and Jimmy works it there.

    “Oh fuck, that feels good.”

    Now I want Jimmy to fuck me.  I love seeing his BBC penetrating my white ass.  I get on my back and watch Jimmy’s dick go in and out of my hole.  Oh fuck!

    “Oh yeah, Jimmy fuck me.  I ike seeing your black cock  getting wet with my ass juices.  I love to see your cock shine, Jimmy.  It so a gorgeous.  I love your black cock as much as your black ass.”

    Jimmy fucks me with both of us moaning.

    After fucking me f or a while, I take his white cowboy boot.

    Come on your pretty white boot,

    Jimmy shoots his load with most of it hitting his white boot.

    “Lick your cum on your pretty white boot, bitch boy.”

    Jimmy eagerly licks his warm cum on the white leather.

    I am so hard again seeing Jimmy do his pretty white boots.  I take him from behind  and fuck him while he licks his boot.   Oh fuck!

    I am ready to come again and shoot my load on Jimmy’s face and boot. I kiss Jimmy and lick my cum on his lovely white boot. We finish our fuck session kissing each other and Jimmy’s lpretty white boots.

  • Three Gay-curious Kinky Poems

    Molten Mix!

    You thought gay love was just a game
    You didn’t understand the flame.

    But now you’ve felt the light and heat
    That’s made when spark and tinder meet.

    Then it gets hotter, flames grow higher
    Till metal melts in foundry fire.

    Now you’re reduced to molten state
    Of liquid love. This is your fate.

    Your man is molten liquid too
    You melt and mix each time you screw.

    You blend as one in love’s sweet flow
    A molten mix in the foundry glow.

    In this way two become one
    in crucible of loving fun!

    You are one glowing golden heart
    Then you never want to be apart.

    You just want to screw and screw;
    You melt and merge each time anew!


    Sealing the Deal

    I feel his cock way up inside. It feels so fucking good.
    He is in me to the hilt, pressing tight just as he should.

    His pelvis ‘gainst my derriere is magical perfection
    As I feel the total length and girth of his glorious erection!

    He presses ‘gainst me on and on as he pumps so deep inside.
    I’m becoming part of him on our loving rainbow ride.

    He’s taking me and making me his personal possession.
    I can’t deny my love for him in all truthful confession.

    Ever deeper my love grows with every single pumping thrust.
    I feel the perfect combination of true love and lust!

    The time cums and he erupts which seals the deal forever.
    From now on, we are a pair. We’ll always be together.

    I kiss his hand in gratitude for the gift he’s given
    Of his seed so deep inside which makes me his, such heaven!


    Gay You!

    My sweet darling, Hey you!
    My goal is to gay you.
    I’ll bind you to me
    With ties you can’t undo.

    Because you are so fine,
    I want you to be mine.
    Though you might resist,
    That resistance you’ll resign.

    So you’ll give me this chance
    To get into your pants
    To kiss you and fuck you
    And make sweet romance.

    And each day and night
    I will fuck you just right
    And cum in you deep
    To your total delight.

    And when this is done,
    Your heart will be won.
    You’ll say it and mean it
    When you call me Hon!

    You’ll wake up one day
    Knowing you’re fully gay
    And that I am the man
    With whom you wish to stay.

    Then it’s too late to say
    ‘I’ll just be on my way.’
    You’ll be bound to your man,
    No desire to stray.

    Then you’ll be mine,
    Fully gay, feeling fine —
    loving your man
    In our true love sublime!

  • The True Self

    Simon

    Simon was sitting at his desk still surprised by no longer having high school assignments. He looked at his laptop, the black pencil cup with an assortment of pens, and the composition notebooks that had blank clean pages still in them. He had graduated three days before and laying to the left side of his desk, the black document cover with the name of his high school in gold on the front, and he pushed it over a bit, picturing the diploma inside it. He graduated from the private school his parents spent a fortune for him to attend and come fall he would be college freshman. It had seemed such an important milestone, but after three days at home, he began to wonder about it. It was a steppingstone to college, and it would be that degree that would get him his first job. Something his father pointed out often over the last few months.

    A car door slammed, and he leaned to the window at his desk, looking down at the drive apron to their garage seeing only his BRZ, then over to the drive at the Thomas home. A grey Ford SUV was back in the drive, Simon thought it was an Escape, but he wasn’t sure. But he was sure it belonged to Avery Thomas. Twenty-one years old, tall muscular build with short dark hair, and a student at University of Georgia. Simon knew Avery had to be a senior come fall, for he was three years older.

    The age difference and going to different schools, Avery to the public school and he to a small private school, made them friendly to each other but never friends. Simon knew he had been viewed as the kid next door, never old enough to hang out with Avery and his friends. It was something Simon had felt frustrated by and yet, at times, glad about the distance between them. He was not out to his parents, only to a few close friends, and he struggled to maintain his secret. Avery was one that tested him, made him struggle with his desires, for that tall dark-haired jock was attractive. He wanted to flirt with him but just knew Avery would beat the shit out of him if he made a pass. That was what jocks did to gay boys. He had read all about the gay bashing by big dumb jocks.

    He sat back and slowly spun around in his desk chair until facing the mirror across the room. He looked at the boy in it. Black hair, dark brown eyes, and a nice, tanned skin tone because of the genes from his mother’s side of the family. His grandmother was from Spain, who married his American grandfather, who met her while in Europe during his military years. He pictured his body, how those genes gave him a smooth tanned tone and a cock and balls that were darker, and he was uncut, something unusual compared to the other boys in his private school. He knew he was attractive, for girls had flirted with him constantly. But he worried if he was attractive in a way that would be attractive to other guys, or whether he would be viewed as too skinny, too young looking, and maybe, in some unknown manner, a bit too feminine. Or maybe he was just being paranoid after having to endure the private school that would have never been supportive to anyone who was LGBTQ. He looked at his reflection seeing someone who appeared different from the last four years. The hair was cut shorter, no longer hanging over his forehead and ears. He had it cut right before graduation, desperate for a change. He ran his hand over his head, feeling the shortness that still seemed odd.

    He was different and yet, still the same gay boy who longed for another.

     

    Avery

    Avery stood at the refrigerator holding the door open trying to decide what he wanted. A soda, or maybe some of the left-over chicken, or maybe a sandwich, then he looked back at the sodas, pulling one out. He sat at the island sipping it as he considered what he could do over the summer, his last one before graduating college. Weekend after next he was going to a cabin in the mountains with his two closest friends. He looked forward to it, because they had not done anything together since last summer.

    He looked out the window that let him see the neighbors drive where the blue Subaru BRZ sat. It was a nice two-seater, a true sports car, and he couldn’t believe it belonged to the kid next door. Simon Edwards was a kid, or he had always viewed him as such.

    When the car showed up a week ago Avery had stood next to his Escape looking on jealously and with envy. It was a used car, but still, it was so much better than his older Ford. A sexy little two-seater, and it belonged to Simon Edwards. He pictured the long-haired skinny kid and had to admit he was cute; no doubt the girls flirted with him. At that private, and far too religious, school, Simon was probably a bit of an exotic, with the dark skin and black hair. He bet the kid was even uncut, and he chuckled at the thought, then tried to picture Simon naked. He had seen him grow up, become average in height, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t make that boy become a man. The best he could do was picture Simon at fourteen on that red BMX bike.

    Then he considered what made a man, and his pictured his two friends. Brodie was about five foot eight with an average build, but there was something about him that was so masculine. Maybe it was the full beard that was kept trimmed close, or maybe it was the glasses he wore that made him look serious, an intellectual. Or it might be the way he dressed, always neat, never wearing anything frayed or ripped or faded, knowing it would wipe out his own wardrobe if he threw out everything that was that way. Then there was Mason. The fuck was over six foot four with one of those lean muscular builds and the blonde hair and blue eyes that made him an All-American, on their basketball team and in life. The way girls flirted with him was so intense as to be hilarious. In other words, everything that kid next door was not.

     

    Simon

    The sun shined into his room, and he rolled over to his back and stretched, knowing he needed to get out of bed. He had nothing to do, but he could not lay in bed any longer. He sat up, listening to the quietness. His parents were home, but he couldn’t hear them stirring around in the house. Maybe they had gone shopping. He climbed to his feet and stumbled into his bathroom.

    Teeth brushed, deodorant and a spray of cologne, he came out and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that looked good with his skin tone and hair color. He slipped on his black sneakers and headed down. In the kitchen he saw his mom in the backyard sitting under the gazebo reading. He picked up his car keys and headed to the garage.

    Simon found his dad in the garage doing some maintenance on his road bike, the front wheel laying to the side and the bike clamped down upside down to work on the gears.

    “I’m going to ride into town,” said Simon.

    “Into town? Or out in the countryside,” said his dad.

    Simon blushed, knowing he really did want to just go driving around.

    “Take off. You need to get out of the house.”

    Simon saw the knowing smile and he smiled back, then headed to his car, the little sports car that was still exciting by its newest to him. He stepped out into the sunshine and walked to the driver’s door.

    “That’s a nice car.”

    Simon turned to the voice and saw Avery standing at the open door of the garage. He tried not to do it, but his eyes scanned up and down the jock. The ripped T-shirt stretched tight across the chest and frayed jeans that bulged seductively at the crotch. Then he looked up, seeing Avery waiting for a response.

    “Huh…thanks Avery.”

    “You’ve finished high school.”

    It was stated as fact and Simon wondered what Avery, someone who had rarely spoken to him in the past, was getting at.

    “Yeah…no more high school,” Simon replied.

    “I guess you’ll enjoy the summer before college.”

    “Maybe,” Simon uttered.

    “Maybe? Sounds like you’ve not made any plans.”

    “The family will go on a vacation next month.”

    “What about you doing something for yourself?”

    “No, not really.”

    Avery stared at him, and he nodded his head and turned to get into his car.

    “Hey, Simon, what are you doing weekend after next?”

    Simon turned back to Avery. “Nothing.”

    “You want to go to the mountains? Three of us are going up to this cabin in North Carolina for a week. You want to make it four?”

    “I-I-I don’t—”

    “I think that is great idea. Simon you should go,” said Simon’s dad coming out of the garage. He turned to Avery. “What would he need to bring?”

    “A pillow, change of clothes, and his toiletries. We’ll grab food on the way up,” said Avery, then he looked over at Simon. “It’s a plan.”

    Simon looked at his dad, then back to Avery. He was going to the mountains with Avery. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On one hand he would get to do something, on the other, it was Avery, whose motives he was questioning. Then there was the fact he found Avery attractive and to be found out in some cabin would be disastrous.  

     

    Avery

    He watched Simon drive away, then waved to Simon’s dad before going back inside. He smiled, then laughed, because he couldn’t believe that boy was going to go with them to the cabin. Simon Edwards, that lean dark skinned boy, was going to spend a week with Mason, Brodie, and him. Why did he invite Simon he couldn’t say or didn’t want to. He went into the kitchen where his mother was stirring around.

    “What’s so funny?” she asked as he sat at the island.

    “Nothing really, it’s just…Simon Edwards will be going with us to the cabin.”

    “What? You invited him to go? He’s a kid.”

    “He just graduated high school.”

    “Really? Is he that old?”

    “Yes, mother, he’s three years younger than me.”

    “And his parents are okay with it?”

    “His father is the one who said he should go.”

    “Well, you boys better not mess with him.”

    “We won’t hurt him, I promise,” said Avery as he contemplated what the week could be like with eighteen-year-old Simon Edwards with them, as he adjusted his cock.

     

    Simon

    Simon was in the back seat behind Mason, the seat so far back, it touched his knees. He glanced to his left where Brodie sat tapping his knee in beat with the Artic Monkeys playing over the sound system. Behind the wheel, Avery was driving Mason’s Yukon, a SUV large enough for the four of them and all their stuff. They had just left the city limits and were about to get on the Interstate. He looked at the car repair shops, the nursery, and other businesses that sat just out of the city, then out of the windshield he saw the overpass. Simon slowed to swing on the on-ramp, then accelerated smartly until they merged into the right lane.

    Simon felt anxious, like it had been a mistake to go with Avery and his friends. He knew little about them, all of them having gone through the public school. He was the outsider of their little group and the youngest, one Avery no doubt still considered a little kid if the truth was known. He looked at the blonde head in front of him, for when he looked forward it was all he could see. Mason Hickman was six foot four and no doubt now over one hundred ninety pounds as his old basketball program from their high school had in it. Simon felt somewhat foolish looking for him and the others in their old high school paraphernalia that was online. But he needed something on them, some aspects of their person. He even found their social pages, disappointed to find very little posted over the last three years. He considered Mason’s physical nature. The tall lean body, muscular like a runner, then the aspects he knew drew the looks and flirtations from women. Blonde hair, thick and wavy, and blue eyes, and a tanned skin tone that made the white tank top appear to glow against the skin. Fuck, he’s hot, Simon admitted to himself, wondering if he could get him alone and…do what? He knew he would not try anything with Mason, or the other two.

    “Mason, skip this song. I hate it,” said Brodie.

    Mason reached for the monitor and skipped the song playing. Kings of Leon came on and Brodie smiled. “Much better.”

    “Why do you not like Evanescence?” said Simon.

    “It was his ex-girlfriend’s favorite band,” said Avery, looking over at Mason causing the two of them to laugh.

    “Fuck you, Avery,” said Brodie.

    “I’d be a better fuck than Mary Ann,” said Avery.

    Simon saw Avery look in the rearview mirror at him and smile. He looked over at Brodie who was smiling and shaking his head.

    “That’s the truth,” said Brodie.

    Brodie Odom, five foot eight, two inches shorter than his own height, but a better build, or so he thought. Brodie didn’t look skinny within his clothes. He had light brown hair that was short on the sides and long on top, and brown eyes that looked gold in some light. Brodie seemed more accessible, like the one he would spend the most time with over the next week. The one that wouldn’t look at him like he was a little kid. Maybe it was the glasses and neatness of his dress, even in cargo shorts, he looked better than Avery in those frayed, knees blown out jeans.

    Avery Thomas. He found the old football program from Avery’s senior year. Six foot tall, one hundred eighty-two pounds, and looking at him now, he knew the jock bastard had put on more muscle. What was he now; two hundred? Of the three guys, Avery scared him the most, made him feel anxious about five days with him holed up in some cabin. The one he wanted to fuck more than any other guy he knew. He tugged on his cock at the thought.

    “Your nuts pinched by your underwear?” said Brodie.

    Simon looked over in surprise realizing Brodie had seen him tug on his cock. “Yeah,” he replied and smiled as if it were joke.

     

     

    Somewhere in South Carolina they stopped for fuel and something to snack on. Mason filled the tank as everyone else went into the convenience store. When they came out, they had large sodas and bags of chips, and Brodie had a candy bar too. Avery had Mason’s drink and chips, and as soon as everyone was back in the Tahoe and buckled up, they were on their way.

    Simon was tempted to ask how much further but knew that would no doubt illicit ribbing about sounding like a little kid, so he sat silent, listening to the music and banter back and forth between the three friends. He watched the scenery pass, with truck stops, fireworks stores and porn shops and churches. There seemed to be an abundance of all four. Eventually they merged onto another interstate and after a short time the terrain changed. Low mountains, the slopes worn down and covered in foliage, and wide valleys, some with development by the interstate, and others, just trees and open fields.  

    The traffic got heavier and Avery had to slow down making it seem like it was taking a long time, but they were soon circling around Asheville, then going north into the mountains, where they were taller, steeper sides, and narrower valleys. They came to an exit with one gas station and Avery pulled off and came to a stop at the end of the ramp.

    “Okay, Mason, remind me how to get to this cabin,” said Avery.

    “Turn right and go to Deer Trail Lane and take it up the mountain. It’s not far, a coupe of miles or so.”

    Simon sat up and paid more attention as Avery took them deeper into the mountains, the narrow two-lane road meandering with the side of them. He felt like it was important to know where he was going. He might have to make a run for it if the guys tried something. Two miles back to that gas station would be easy enough. He grinned at the image of his ass running down the side of the road, for there was no shoulder to speak of.

    “What’s so funny,” said Avery.

    Simon looked up to see him looking in the mirror. “Nothing.”

    “Nothing?” said Brodie.

    “Just that gas station is not too far away and if I need to run down here and…call for help for one of you it’s feasible.”

    “We have our cellphones, silly,” said Brodie.

    “They don’t work up here,” said Mason. “Zilich, nothing, not one fucking bar. So, hope Simon doesn’t have to run to that gas station to get you some help.”

    It was said in jest, and Brodie grimaced then smiled at Simon. “Mason only acts like an asshole when he’s around Avery.”

    “Yeah, because we all know Avery is the real asshole,” said Mason, laughing aloud.

    “Hey!” exclaimed Avery. “You guys are the assholes. Simon, you bunk with me. I’m not sleeping with either one of these dickheads.”

    It took a minute, but Simon suddenly registered what Avery had said. “What do you mean I can bunk with you? Don’t we each have a bed?”

    “No, it’s just a small cabin with two tiny bedrooms with a queen bed jammed into each of them,” said Mason.

    “I don’t want to share a bed with Mason. The fucker takes up the whole thing. Let Simon sleep with him,” said Brodie.

    Simon sat stunned at this revelation, not one he had expected. Avery said he called it first, and Mason just laughed, then pointed in front of them. “Avery, there is our turnoff.”

     

    Mason

    Mason pulled out his duffel bag then two of the fabric grocery bags his mom had packed for them and headed to the cabin. He looked at the familiar structure, one that belonged to an uncle. His family had been to it often over the years, and except for paint and a remodel of the bathroom, the place hadn’t changed much over the years. He followed the stone path down by the side of it, then up the steps that led to those that ascended to the porch that faced the valley. Avery came down the steps of the porch, having rushed in to use the bathroom as soon as they arrived. They smiled at each other, and Mason knew for entirely different reasons. He did it because Avery was up to something, and he wondered if the bastard dared suggest it with Simon there. In the past it had just been the three of them.

    Crossing the porch, Mason heard someone behind him. At the door he looked back and saw it was Simon, followed closely by Brodie. Inside he sat the bags down on the table that sat in the middle of the room, then pointed at the door on the left.

    “Simon, I guess you’ll be bunked up with Avery in that bedroom. You can see the middle door is the bathroom and the one on the right will be Brodie and my room.”

    “Okay,” said Simon.

    Mason heard the unsure tone, and he smiled. Simon had every right to be concerned. He went into the bedroom on the right following Brodie into the room. Brodie let his small suitcase rest next to the wall by the window and looked at the queen bed then at him.

    “No hogging the bed,” said Brodie, then he chuckled.

    “You don’t want to sleep with me?” Mason whispered so Simon wouldn’t hear.

    “Fuck you,” joked Brodie, heading out to get more of their stuff from the Tahoe.

    Mason sat his duffel bag on the bed and went back to the kitchen to put away the items that needed to be in the refrigerator. Simon came over and he saw him surveying the room, one long narrow room, living area at the far end, the dining table in the middle then the small kitchen with a narrow island separating it from the dining area. Along the exterior wall, three pair of French doors opening to the porch.

    “I think Avery and Brodie can get the rest of the stuff. Why don’t you open the doors to air out the cabin,” said Mason.

    “Okay,” Simon replied, moving to the nearest doors to swing them open.

     

     

    Mason looked over the island as he searched within it for paper plates. He saw Brodie in the lounge chair with raised feet, and on the sofa, Avery on one end and Simon on the other. They had a baseball game on, Atlanta and somebody who, he wasn’t sure, and really didn’t care. What he was more focused on was how the week would go. With Simon there the dynamics would be different. He wondered if it would be a fun one, or if Simon would keep a wet blanket on things. He was sure Avery was going to find out, and if the truth was known, Avery already knew how Simon would respond when they wanted things to get interesting.

    “Hey, let’s eat a sandwich and go down to the stream,” said Mason, standing up.

    “Good idea,” said Brodie. “I could use the hike after the drive up.”

    “Simon, do you have shoes that can get wet?” said Avery, looking over at him.

    “I have some sports sandals.”

    “Good, wear them. You’ll mess up those sneakers if you wear them down to the stream.”

    Simon climbed to his feet and headed to the bedroom. Mason looked at the lean body wearing jeans and black T-shirt. How the ass filled the seat of the jeans, and he wondered if Simon would be willing. He wanted to find out.

    “Simon,” said Mason.

    “Yeah,” Simon replied, stopping at the door to the bedroom.

    “I’d put on shorts too.”

    “I’m going to.”

    When Simon disappeared into the bedroom, even closing the door, Mason looked up to see Avery looking at him. There was the smile, one of mischief, and Mason knew what he was thinking.

     

    Avery

    Brodie led their little group down the trail. It had switchbacks, then long descending runs in one direction, then the other. Where a huge outcropping occurred, they followed the trail down stone steps someone had built between two large boulders, then made their way through three others coming out to the last descent of the trail. They could hear the small waterfall, one about ten feet high.

    Following the last few feet of the trail, Avery looked at Simon again, the lean body within the black tank top and cargo shorts. Did Simon only wear black, he wondered, then considered how black looked against Simon’s skin. He decided Simon should wear black all the time, or nothing at all, making him snigger.

    “What’s so funny,” said Mason standing in the clearing at the end of the trail, watching him enter it.

    “Nothing,” Avery replied.

    “Right,” said Mason, then he looked at Simon standing next to Brodie. It was obvious Simon was taller, a couple of inches taller, which made his lean build more pronounced.

     

     

    Avery watched Brodie take off his sandals and wade out into the stream. He heard him tell the rest of them to come out. Simon looked back to see if Mason and he were going to wade out. Then he took off his sandals and waded out to Brodie. They moved along the stream, going from a rocky section, stepping from one stone to the next, then they waded out into a deeper section, the water coming up to their knees.

    “Come on guys,” said Brodie.

    “Come on Mason, let go,” said Avery. He stood, kicked off his sandals, then went down to the stream’s edge and raked his foot through the water. “Damn, it’s cold.”

    “Go on Avery, wade on out,” said Mason.

    Avery waded to Simon and acted like he was going to push him into the water. There was a shocked look, then a grin, knowing it was just Avery horsing around.

    Brodie came up behind Avery and jumped on his back with his arms around the neck. “Giddy up, you stubborn mule,” he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke.

    With Mason watching, they waded around the shallow waters, splashing each other while dodging around. Then the sound of thunder rumbled down the valley.

    “Hey, guys, I think we should head back,” said Mason coming to his feet.

    Avery led Simon and Brodie to the bank where they put their sandals back on and fell in behind Mason, heading back up the trail.

    “You think we can beat the rain?” said Simon.

    “Don’t know. It’s hard to tell. Sometimes it blows through the valley pretty fast, other times it moves through here slowly,” said Avery.

    “Let’s pick up the pace and try to beat it,” said Brodie, slipping past Mason taking the lead with a hurried pace. Simon slipped past Avery and Mason to keep up with Brodie.

    Avery gave Mason a little push and they sped up to keep up with Brodie and Simon. They climbed up the side of the mountain, making good time, but about halfway up it began to rain. At first a few drops, then a steady rain, then so hard a short distance in front of them ghosted out white.

    “Fuck,” exclaimed Avery, and they slipped over the muddy and slick ground.

    On one gradual incline, one that should have been one of the easiest sections, the trail was fine dirt and with the rain it had turned to a muddy soup.

    Avery was in front of Mason trying to keep up with Simon and Brodie who seemed undeterred by the rain. Then he saw Brodie, stumble and nearly fall. Then Simon stumbled and went down flat on his stomach. Then Brodie fell too, going down on his ass.

    “Simon are you okay?” said Avery as Mason stood behind him.

    “Yeah,” said Simon trying to get up, slipping and sliding, going down again. “Fuck,” he uttered.

    “Let me help you.”

    Avery took Simon’s hand and as he was pulling him to his feet, his feet slipped out from under him and he went down.

    Avery sat in the mud with Simon laying across his lap covered in mud. They heard Brodie laughing and looked up to see him sitting in the middle of the trail completely covered in mud. It was even smeared across his face.

    “Damn, guys,” said Mason.

    “Help us up,” said Avery.

    “I don’t think so, get up on your own.”

    Avery helped Simon climb off of him then rolled to his hands and knees and started up. He was on his feet and about to stand straight, when he rushed Mason bringing him down on the trail on his back. Avery rubbed his muddy body over him.

    “Avery, you asshole; get off me,” said Mason as Brodie, then Simon laughed.

    As Avery climbed off Mason, grinning foolishly, the rain stopped, and sun shone down into the valley through the clouds.

     

     

    At the cabin, Avery led them to the far side of it, with Simon looking over at Brodie questioning where they were going.

    “Come on Simon,” said Avery sensing his confusion. “We’ll use the outdoor shower to clean up to not track mud into the cabin.”

    “What about a change of clothes or a towel?”

    “Once we’re clean we’ll ease inside then dry off and get dressed.”

    Simon looked at Avery, who smiled back.

    “What about soap,” whispered Avery to Brodie.

    “There’s soap at the shower,” said Brodie. “Are you afraid to get naked in front of us?”

    Avery heard the question and looked back at Simon. “Yeah, Simon afraid to show us that pecker.”

    “No, but…” Simon replied, letting his voice trail off.

    Avery moved to the outdoor shower, a tiled area about five-foot square with a six-foot fence on two sides, oddly, the side facing the valley open. He turned on the water, getting the shower to run warm, as Mason and Brodie stripped. Simon looked at the two bodies being revealed as he slowly tugged his own shirt off. As he undid his shorts, Avery was stripping. Mason was naked, then Brodie, finally Avery, and Simon was stepping out of his shorts knowing his wet boxers concealed nothing. He felt his cock, half hard, pushing outward.

    “Damn Simon, why so shy at getting naked,” said Mason.

    It was obvious what Mason was referring to, and the three guys grinned at each other then back at Simon.

    “Come on, Simon, lose the shorts,” said Avery as Mason stepped under the shower and started to lather up.

    Simon stood to the side while Mason, then Brodie and finally Avery showered. He tried to act nonchalantly, looking over the valley, then over to whoever was making some silly comment or joke. Oh, how he tried, but he kept looking at them, the physical nature of each one. The three were different body frames, but each one was attractive. He looked at Mason standing next to the wall. The tall muscular build, one obviously made for the basketball Mason played in high school and probably played in college for fun. He looked at the impossibly flat stomach and how the abs were plainly visible. He looked at the cock hanging long over its sac, the head of it arrow shaped, perfect for penetrating pussy, or an ass. An arm moved and he looked up to see Mason pushing wet hair back revealing the blue eyes staring back. Mason smiled, making him turn away.

    Simon turned and found himself looking at Brodie. Average build, average height, light brown hair, brown eyes, and a nice cock hanging over a sac that hung long between the thighs. Brodie tugged on his cock and Simon turned, finding his eyes on Avery. Fucking Avery still lathering up his body. Suds cascaded down the body, one with bulging muscles and everything perfectly defined. Simon thought bodies like that only existed in magazines or in porn. Avery turned with his back to the shower, head tilted back rinsing the soap suds from his dark hair. Simon took advantage looking at the thick cock with a flared head. He wondered how big it would get erect, what it would feel like punching through the tightness of someone’s ass.

    Simon was looking at Avery, unaware of the others. Then someone touched his ass, and he jumped.

    “Easy, Simon, you know you want it,” said Mason.

    Simon sensed Mason next to his right ear, felt the hand moving over his bare ass, from one cheek to the other. Then Brodie was standing next to him. A hand gently held his chin and turned his head to face Brodie.

    “You want us to stop?” said Brodie.

    Before Simon could respond, Mason, squatting behind him, spread his ass and licked upward between the cheeks. He shuddered and jerked but didn’t pull away. The tongue dragged up his ass again and he gasp, looking at Brodie in surprise.

    “Simon…do you want us to stop?” Brodie asked again.

    Simon knew he should say no, should tell Mason to stop, but it felt too good. It felt right, and he felt his cock start to respond. “No,” he uttered, and Brodie leaned toward him and kissed him.

    Brodie kissed him, took his cock in hand, manipulating it until erect. Mason ate his ass, ate it until he was shivering and pushing back against the face pressed against his ass.

    “Goddamn, you fucks started without me,” said Avery.

    “Let’s bathe him,” said Mason, coming to his feet behind Simon.

     

     

    Day One

    Mason guided Simon to the shower and the three of them bathed him while tugging on his cock, fingering his ass, and kissing him. Up the neck, across the shoulders, against the lips, and over nipples showing his arousal. Then Mason pushed down on his shoulders and without hesitation, Simon went to his knees facing Avery. Cock was in his face, fully erect and thicker than he first realized. It raked across his lips, then he took it in his mouth and moved on it.

    As water cascaded over him, he worked his mouth on Avery’s cock. Hands held his head, and he looked up to see it wasn’t Avery. The hands worked his mouth on the cock, and he relaxed to the manipulation. Let them control him as cock pushed into his mouth then slid back through his lips. Movement to his right and he saw Brodie next to him, face right up next to his own.

    “Suck that cock. Suck it,” said Brodie.

    It was Mason who was controlling him and he closed his eyes and let him continue, pushing his head forward, then pulling it back.

    Then Mason held him still and Avery began to move, to pump the cock into his mouth.

    “Fuck; that’s hot,” said Brodie.

    Simon held his mouth open letting Avery move cock over his tongue and into his throat. He had to hold his mouth wide to take it and it made him feel so aroused he wanted to take his own cock in hand. But a hand moved around his waist and did it for him. A manipulation, then a slow stroking. He worked his hips trying to increase the stimulation as Avery fucked his mouth.

    “Fuck…you hot little bastard,” said Avery.

    Avery couldn’t believe it was Simon, the little kid from next door, who was no longer a little kid. He watched how his cock moved through the lips while picturing Simon’s cock. Uncut, the head concealed within the dark skin, then when just partially aroused the skin pulled back revealing the flared head. He had been surprised to see the size of it once fully erect. It had to be eight inches long, or longer. Only Mason was longer.

    Avery looked down at the lean body, dark smooth skin tone, black hair matted down by the shower, the thin lips stretched around his cock, and he pictured the dark brown eyes that were concealed for Simon had them closed.

    “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” exclaimed Avery.

    “Fuck, do it, do it,” uttered Brodie.

    Avery worked his cock faster through the lips. An urgency to his movement, a building need for release. He saw Mason press against Simon’s back while obviously stroking Simon’s cock. He saw Brodie was still right up next to Simon. Then he felt it, the surge of release. He shuddered, then pushed into Simon’s mouth and came. He kept pumping his cock through the lips as his cock ejaculated wad after wad. It filled Simon’s mouth, dribbled down the chin, and he kept pumping his cock until he was finally spent.

    Avery pulled back until his wet slimy cock hovered in Simon’s face, and Brodie grabbed it and cleaned it off. Then he turned to Simon and kissed him as Avery watched, and Mason moved against Simon’s back continuing to stroke his cock.

    Simon grunted, shuddered against Mason, and while kissing Brodie he came.

     

    It was Brodie who led Simon into the cabin, Avery and Mason following, touching and tugging on the other playfully. Brodie guided Simon to the bedroom shared with Avery. Brodie got on the bed sideways, back to the wall and legs spread.

    “Simon, suck me,” said Brodie.

    Naked and cock still half hard, Simon moved on the bed on his hands and knees between the outstretched legs. He kissed Brodie, then kissed down the neck, over the chest, downward until taking the cock in his mouth.

    Avery and Mason stood by the bed and watched.

    “Fuck. Suck that cock,” said Mason and he reached over and took Avery in hand, who took his cock in turn. They stroked each other while watching Simon suck Brodie’s cock. It was a noisy suck, reckless and rough, but it aroused them, all of them, but none more than Brodie who was tapping his head against the wall and clutching the bed.

    “I’ve got to get in there,” said Mason, letting Avery go and moving to Simon. He dropped to his knees and ran a hand up the back until his fingers combed through the black hair. He made a fist, grabbing the hair, and he worked Simon down on Brodie cock. A push down until the nose pressed into the abdomen, then a tug upward until Simon was gasping for air around Brodie’s cock.

    “Fuck,” exclaimed Avery standing to the side watching.

    Mason took his cock and slapped the round ass, then raked his cock between the cheeks, up and down until he felt Simon push back. He put his cock to the opening and pushed until he felt the head of his cock squeeze through the tightness. He shivered and Simon moaned. He held the narrow waist and pushed deeper, inch after inch, until all nine were buried in the ass.

    “Fuck him. Fuck his ass. Come on Mason let he watch him take it,” exclaimed Brodie as he began to pump his hips upward.

    Simon moaned as he held his mouth over Brodie’s cock, letting him fuck his mouth as Mason fucked his ass. He felt his own cock, hard as rock, hovering below his stomach.

    Mason leaned over Simon’s back and whispered in his ear, and he slipped his mouth off Brodie’s cock and looked over his shoulder with a smile.

    “Do it,” whispered Mason.

    Simon smiled, turned back to Brodie, slipping his hands beneath the legs. He jerked him forward then pushed the legs up until the feet were back against the wall and the ass raised and spread wide. He moved to it licking straight up it then over the tight nut sac. He ate Brodie out as Mason fucked him. He put his tongue to that tight opening and rocked against it as Mason slammed into his depths. When Brodie reached for his cock, Simon grabbed the hands and held them down, preventing Brodie from pleasuring himself.

    “Fuck Simon,” said Brodie.

    “Simon, fuck him,” said Mason.

    Simon rose and moved up on the bed on his knees. He held the legs at the ankles and pushed them out and back. He shifted to the ass and Mason took his cock and aligned it with the wet slick ass.

    “Fuck him,” exclaimed Mason, pushing into Simon’s depths roughly, shoving him forward until he buried most of his cock inside Brodie.

    “Goddamn. Fuck that ass,” said Avery who came up next to Mason stroking his cock.

    Simon moved between Brodie and Mason, worked his ass on Mason’s cock, then pushed forward, burying his inside Brodie. He fucked with a steady pace, working his ass back and forth. It pushed his arousal, made him heat up until sweat trickled down his face and torso. Mason kissed the spot between the shoulder blades then licked at his sweaty skin.

     

     

    Avery watched how Simon moved between Mason and Brodie. How the body undulated, working cock into Brodie’s ass then pushing back on Mason’s cock. He couldn’t believe Simon was so sexy, so fucking hot, and he turned to Mason slapping him in the face with his cock. “Suck,” said Avery and he pushed his cock into Mason’s mouth desperate to be a part of their sex.

    As Mason sucked, he reached down and raked his fingers down the sweaty back. He felt the heat of the skin, how it was so fucking smooth. He ran the hand down to the top of the ass and let one finger touch Mason’s cock as it disappeared into Simon’s ass then came back into view.

    “Simon,” exclaimed Brodie.

    Avery looked at Brodie, seeing cum rope up the chest hitting the chin. He smiled at how Brodie was so turned on he couldn’t hold back. Wad after wad rained down the chest then stomach and the smell of cum was overwhelming. It made him want to cum. He wondered how Simon had not done so. How he could be fucking that tight ass while getting fucked and not pump a load into Brodie already. Then Simon shoved forward roughly and shuddered and jerked, and Avery knew he was doing so now.

    “Goddamn, cum in his ass,” exclaimed Mason who was fucking harder while holding Avery’s cock. He slammed into Simon, repeatedly smacking against the round ass, then he looked at Avery with a glassy eyed expression and shuddered with release.

     

     

    Mason and Brodie untangled from Simon, and Avery pulled him to his feet, spun him around and down on his back. He got on the bed moving up between the legs and Simon held them up. He smiled as he took them behind the knees and pushed forward.

    “You want my cock?” said Avery in a mischievous tone.

    “Yes,” Simon uttered, then he threw his head back and closed his eyes.

    Avery pushed the legs down until thighs were tight to the chest and the ass angled up. Mason’s load trickled out of it, and he smeared the cum between the cheeks, then used it as lube, pushing his thick cock into the loosened ass, inch after inch, until most was buried in it.

    “Fuck, you tight ass bastard,” exclaimed Avery as he hovered over the folded body, hips just above the ass, and he tugged upward, then pushed down, over and over, until his hips were pressing against the ass. “Fuck!” exclaimed Avery.

    “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck my ass,” uttered Simon. He knew there was no need to hold back. He had dreamed what it would be like to take a man’s fuck. To have cock bore into his ass. None of his fantasies were as good as his fucking around with the three guys. And Avery pushed him more than the others, made his arousal so intense his own cock drooled on his stomach. That thick cock seemed to bore deeper into his body than even Mason. It touched his insides in ways that made him see stars. He shivered as it pummeled his insides, and he clutched the bed and begged Avery to fuck him harder.

    “Jesus,” exclaimed Mason.

    Avery looked over to see Mason fucking a bent over Brodie. Mason was holding Brodie by the waist and hammering his ass. Turning back to Simon, Avery pushed down letting Simon feel his weight, all one hundred and ninety-three pounds, and he fucked harder, faster, hips smacking down on the ass. He fucked until his toes curled and fingers dug into Simon’s legs. He fucked and fucked until his cock was so sensitive he was shuddering. Then he slammed into Simon’s ass and came. He felt each ejaculation, and rocked and shuddered with it.

    “Avery,” exclaimed Simon.

    Avery heard his name through the fog of release, and he leaned down and kissed the gasping mouth as he pumped out the last of his load. Then he smelled it. Cum. Simon had cum again.

    Just to his side, Mason cried out and Avery knew Brodie was taking Mason’s load.

     

     

    The grill was still smoking as it cooled. The guys sat on the porch pushed back from the table. They had been famished, but now they were satisfied. There had been some conversation about the summer ahead of them, baseball games they anticipated, plans with their families, then after a pause, wicked laughter then Simon confessing of knowing he was gay since he was thirteen and never believing for a minute the dumb jock next door would want to fool around. It made Brodie and Mason laugh and Avery pretended to be hurt before he too laughed. Then the guys told Simon of how they began to fool around right before graduating high school, realizing their ex-girlfriends just didn’t do it for them.

    “Besides, none of them could suck cock like Brodie,” joked Mason.

    They eventually climbed to their feet, the sun low in the western sky, and cleaned off the table and headed back inside. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching the Atlanta Braves, then called it a night, Mason and Brodie in one bedroom and Avery and Simon in the other.

     

     

    Simon wondered if he could really sleep with Avery. He was exhausted after their sex, but he still thought of doing it again. Of reaching over in the night and teasing Avery until ready to fuck. But when he lay down next to him, he quickly fell sound asleep.

     

    Day Two

    Simon woke up to find he was snuggling against Avery with one arm draped over the muscular chest. He eased up, not wanting to wake him and looked over at his things laid out. Normally, he would not come out of his bedroom until dressed, but he looked in the mirror, seeing the young man in black boxers that made his dark skin tone look good. He was lean, not skinny like he had thought. Mason had said so, and Avery agreed. He went out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. When he came out, Brodie was rummaging through the bags on the kitchen counter. He had on a ragged pair of gym shorts. They looked so loose Simon wondered how they stayed up. 

    “Good morning,” said Brodie, as he looked into another bag. “Finally; the muffins. You want one?”

    “Yes,” said Simon as he poured a cup of coffee. “Mason still in bed?”

    “Yep. Avery and he will sleep to noon if there isn’t something planned to make them get up sooner.”

    “I started to sleep longer,” said Simon as he sat the small table opposite Brodie. He took the muffin Brodie slid across the table and peeled the paper liner from the bottom of it.

    “I can never sleep all morning, no matter how late I stay up,” said Brodie.

     

     

    When they finished, Simon lay on the small sofa reading the novel he had brought with him. He lay on his stomach, feet turned up and slipped back into the storyline. Brodie sat at the other end of the sofa and started to play on his phone.

    Simon tried to focus, tried to read more than a paragraph without thinking of the guys and their messing around. He laid the book down and looked over his shoulder at Brodie playing some game on his cellphone.

    “Is it just sex?” asked Simon.

    “What?”

    “For the three of you; is it just sex?”

    Brodie didn’t reply immediately, and Simon looked back to see if he was going to.

    “I guess so,” Brodie finally replied, but he didn’t sound like he was sure of it.

    “Do you want more? Would you want one of the guys to think of it as more than just sex?”

    “Maybe.”

    “Avery? Or Mason?”

    Another hesitation to reply, then uttered so softly Simon barely heard it. “Mason.”

    Simon looked around again, surprised by the confession. “Really? Does he know.”

    “No, and don’t you tell him.”

    “I won’t.”

    “What about you?”

    “I can only think of it as just sex. I mean…I’m the outsider to you guys.”

    “What if Avery wanted more?”

    Simon scoffed, then chuckled. “I doubt that.”

    “You never know,” said Brodie.

    “Whatever,” said Simon, turning back to his book.

     

     

    Brodie looked from his cellphone to Simon. The long lean torso, the smooth dark skin, the round ass concealed by the boxers. He looked on with images of their fucking the day before coming to mind. Simon sucking cock. Simon getting fucked. He tugged on his stirring cock, then slipped his hand inside the gym shorts to feel it with his bare hand. He grew erect looking at Simon. He considered it, the sex he could have with him. With one hand down in the gym shorts, he reached out with the other and touched one leg on the thigh.

    “What are you doing?” said Simon, not turning around.

    “Nothing.”

    Brodie ran his fingers lightly over one leg and Simon giggled. He reached between them and rubbed the right ass cheek. Simon stopped giggling and Brodie saw him pump his hips, pushing down against the sofa. He rubbed the other cheek. Then he pulled his hand back, pulling the legs down until they rested across his lap. He looked at their smoothness, only a light dusting of black hair on the calves. He ran a hand up one leg and down the other. He leaned over and kissed the right calf, sat up and rubbed the ass through the boxers. He raised the left leg and slipped underneath, going to the floor on his knees. He lifted the right leg off the sofa letting the knee rest on the floor. He was between the legs, and he leaned over and kissed the ass cheeks. The right one, then the left. He raised up, worked his gym shorts down until around his knees then he ran his hands up the smooth legs, over the boxers, slipping his fingers over the waistband. He tugged and the ass raised letting him slip them down the legs exposing the ass. He pulled the left leg up, foot back, to free the boxers from it, then let them drop down the right leg to the knee. He stroked his cock then moved up and over Simon.

    A slap with his cock across he right cheek, then the left. He put it between them and pumped his hips until the ass moved in response. Simon tossed the book on the side table, reached back and spread his ass while burying his face into the seat cushion. Brodie smiled, then turned determined. Determined to get his cock into that ass. Determined to fuck it. Fuck it until he came. He put his cock to the exposed hole and pushed.

    Simon moaned and pushed back. Brodie shivered with the squeeze on the head of his cock as it penetrated him. Slowly, gently, Brodie pushed. The head slipped through the tightness, then the shaft, fractions of an inch at a time. The tightness such an unbearable pleasure.

    “Goddamn, it’s not even noon.”

    Brodie looked around to see Mason standing in the door to the bedroom they shared. He smiled at him, then turned his attention back to the ass he was fucking. Round, firm, spread wide for him, and he pushed deeper before tugging outward to begin.

    “Fuck me,” Simon uttered breathlessly.

    Brodie began to work his cock through the tightness. A tug outward, then a push inward, until in a steady rhythm, pushing deeper and deeper until pressing hips against ass. He leaned forward, resting on his hands and increased his pace, fucked until banging against the ass and the sofa was squeaking. He fucked until Simon was pushing upward. He sweated and noticed Simon’s skin was glistening wetly.

    Mason came to stand next to them, tugging on his cock through basketball shorts that did nothing to conceal the erection within. He watched as Brodie hammered Simon’s ass, the sound of it growing louder and louder. It echoed in the small cabin. Only Simon’s cries were louder.

    “Fuck. Fuck me. Pump it in me,” exclaimed Simon.

    “Fuck,” Mason uttered as he watched Brodie move. The undulation of the body that pumped cock into Simon’s ass. He watched sweat rain down on Simon, imagining he felt a rise in temperature.

    Brodie pulled out and guided Simon to roll to his back. He held the offered legs to his shoulders, scooted up to the ass, and buried his cock in it. Then he resumed their fuck, driving into Simon’s depths. He leaned back and pumped his hips, giving Mason a clear view of his cock stirring Simon’s insides. He pumped it into Simon as sweat ran down his chest and stomach.

    “Fuck, you pervs at it already,” said Avery coming to stand next to Mason. He reached into the basketball shorts. “Let me,” he said to Mason, then turned to watch Brodie fuck Simon.

    Brodie felt the muscles in his thighs and stomach burn with his exertions. He was sucking in air, and desperate to get off.

    Simon stroked his own cock and lay back with eyes closed, mouth open, gasping for air. He uttered obscenities and begged Brodie to fuck him. Then Brodie pushed his legs over and down against his chest. He couldn’t reach his cock and just held tight to the seat cushions as Brodie moved over him and fucked. Fucked until once again the sofa protested the physicality of their fuck. The way Brodie banged Simon’s ass, the sound of flesh smacking flesh echoing in the room.

    “Jesus, Brodie,” uttered Avery.

    Brodie didn’t hear Avery. Didn’t comprehend him standing nearby. His awareness was focused on Simon. On Simon’s ass taking his cock, lost to his lust and desire. He pushed down on the legs and fucked hard, losing his rhythm, but by then it didn’t matter. He shuddered and jerked and slammed his cock into Simon’s depths and came.

     

     

    Brodie staggered to his feet, sweating and cock dripping. Simon held his legs behind the knees, up and spread wide. Brodie load trickled out of his ass and Avery and Mason watched. Simon looked at Mason and Avery, then at Avery, just Avery, gym shorts pushed down below the hard cock Mason was stroking. Simon looked at the thick nine-inch cock and he wanted it.

    “Avery,” Simon uttered. “Fuck me.”

    Avery looked at Simon, then Mason, then me moved to Simon. Took the legs and held them to his chest as he scooted to the ass. He raked his cock through Brodie’s cum then penetrated it, pushing in slowly, all the way, letting Simon feel every inch.

    Neither saw Mason move on Brodie, put him in the armchair with legs over each arm, head bent against the back, and punch half his cock into the spread ass.

    The sound of fucking filled the air. The gasping and moans and grunts. The obscenities, Brodie and Simon begging to be fucked, and Mason and Avery just uttering fuck and goddamn as they pumped their cock into them.

    Simon stroked his leaking cock as Avery hammered his ass. There was no slow fucking, nothing to delay their push for release. Avery just fucked and Simon took it, feeling that thick cock banged his insides. He saw stars and shuddered at times. Then his cock flexed, and he looked up at Avery, shuddered, and came. Cum spattered him in the face, down his neck and chest, then dribbled out on his stomach as his ass spasm around Avery’s cock.

    “Jesus,” Avery exclaimed. He pushed the legs over and down against the chest, smearing the cum. He bore down on Simon, thrust with all his strength until he felt his own surge of release. He shoved into Simon, all the way, and cried out as his cock pumped out his load.

    Across the room, Mason cried out and came inside Brodie.

     

     

    After lunch, they went for a hike, deciding on pushing the length as far as they dared. They assumed they would be back by six or seven o’clock, plenty of time to rest, prepare dinner, and maybe fuck around. But the trail was tougher than they remembered, sections washed out and markings on trees faded away causing them to take two wrong turns. By the time they got back it was dark, and they were exhausted. They ate sandwiches, showered, and crashed. They had three more days to enjoy sex with each other.

     

    Day Three

    The guys woke to drizzling rain. The forecast had predicted it, with it to move out by midafternoon. Mason and Brodie were on the porch drinking beer while watching it. Inside, Simon leaned back against one arm of the sofa with his feet on the seat, knees up, reading his book. Avery came back into the room from the bathroom. He looked at Simon, how the stretched gym shorts he had Simon put on were so revealing. The narrow waist, one at least four inches smaller than his own, made him tie them so tight they were bunched up around the waist. Even across the room, Avery could see up one leg at the nut sac. Or maybe it was the foreskin. He was too far away to see clearly, a problem he would remedy. He went to the sofa and sat at the opposite end.

    “Is that book good?”

    “Yes.”

    “What’s it about?”

    “These two gay lovers trying to find each other after being forced apart.”

    “A romance novel?” Avery joked.

    “No…maybe,” Simon admitted.

    A page was turned.

    Avery looked down the legs of the shorts. In the right one, nut sac. In the left one, foreskin of the cock. Which one to toy with, he amusingly asked himself, knowing it would be both soon enough. He looked out the window seeing Brodie and Mason still sitting on the porch’s edge, then back at Simon. The lean torso with its smooth dark skin. The near hairless legs and feet smaller than expected, defying the notion of small feet meant small cock. Simon was not small, but Avery wondered if it mattered. He was attracted to the hot fuck, and it was not about the size of his cock, but how Simon could use it, or just as enticing, how he could use someone else’s cock, picturing their fucking of the previous two days.

    A page was turned.

    Avery touched the right leg, rubbing his fingers up and down the shin.

    “What are you doing?” said Simon without looking up.

    “Nothing.”

    “Huh-uh.”

    Simon didn’t tell him to stop, so he rubbed the leg. Rubbed up to the knee, then down to the ankle seeing the toes curl under. Smiling mischievously, he reached into the gapping leg of the shorts and ran a finger over the nut sac. Simon flinched but didn’t respond to the manipulation.

    Fuck, he’s such a tease, Avery thought as he reached into the other leg. He stroked the head of the cock with a finger. The barest touch, just the tip of the finger over the skin covered head. It flexed and moved. The toes curled and the knees rocked back and forth a little.

    “Avery,” whispered Simon.

    “Simon,” Avery replied, using two fingers to really manipulate the growing cock.

    Simon closed the book and held his head back, the neck stretched out, Adam’s apple prominent. Then the feet moved further apart. Avery took the cock in his hand and manipulated it until it rose out of the leg opening. The foreskin pulled back revealing the head of it. 

    Avery pushed the legs apart and leaned between them, taking the cock in his mouth. He sucked down on it hearing Simon moan. He worked his mouth up and down, feeling the loose skin tighten as the cock became rock hard.

    “Avery,” Simon exclaimed, pushing upward, forcing Avery to take every inch.

    Avery took it, buried his nose down into the crotch as the cock pushed into his throat. He swallowed around it and felt it flex with Simon’s arousal. He had him wound up, ready for whatever he wanted, and what he wanted was to fuck that ass.

    Avery sat up and tugged the drawstring loose, then tugged the shorts around the ass, but not far enough to free the cock. Then he pulled Simon down to his back, head bent against the arm. He pushed the legs up then down against the chest. The ass spread revealing the smooth crevice and the wrinkled opening and just below the shorts the nuts still loose in their sac. But the cock remained pinned within the shorts.

    Avery rubbed the exposed ass, up and down the smooth skin, then he rubbed the tight puckered opening. Rubbed it until Simon was moaning and trying to push against his fingers.

    “Fuck, you’ve got a nice ass,” Avery uttered as he buried his middle finger in it. He twisted and turned the finger until he felt Simon loosen to his penetration, then he buried two fingers into him. He pumped the fingers, worked the ass until it loosened further with his manipulation.

    “Avery,” Simon uttered breathlessly.

    Avery sunk three fingers into the ass and worked it loose. “Tell me you want me to fuck this ass.”

    “Fuck it. Fuck my ass,” said Simon.

    Avery saw Simon take his legs behind the knees keeping them pulled back and spread. He saw the pleading look, the desire and lust to be fucked.

    “Fuck me. Fuck me, Avery. Fuck my ass,” Simon pleaded.

    Avery lifted his ass and tugged his shorts off. His cock slapped his stomach, hard and dripping. He moved to his knees, pushed his cock down, and sank half of it into the ass. Simon shivered and moaned and pulled on his legs harder. Avery leaned over him, bracing with his hands on the arm of the sofa, and fucked. He pushed inward, all the way, tugged outward until he could see the edge of the flared head, then he pushed it back into the ass, all the way. He kept it up, worked his cock in Simon’s ass until fucking with a steady rhythm. He fucked until Simon’s nuts drew up tight and the ass took him easily. He fucked until sweating and the sofa squeaked and rocked beneath them.

    “Avery!” Simon exclaimed.

    Avery kept fucking as he saw a wet spot at the head of Simon’s cock. The wetness spread as he hammered the ass. Then he could hold back no longer, desperate to get off, and he buried his cock in Simon and came.

     

     

    Suddenly Avery found himself sitting on the sofa with Simon standing in front of him. Cock still hard, wet and slimy, cum dripping from the head, and Simon moved closer rubbing it across his lips.

    “Clean me off,” said Simon.

    Avery smiled, glad to see Simon no longer as shy, more open about his sexual desires. He opened his mouth and took him, licking that cock clean, then working his lips along its length keeping the horny bastard hard.

    Avery had his eyes closed while working his mouth on the cock. A hand rested on his head, then it balled into a fist grabbing him by the hair. He was pulled forward until his nose pressed into the abdomen and cock pushed into his throat. The hand moved his head back and forth, fucking his mouth.

    “Fuck…take me…take me,” said Simon

    Just as Avery thought Simon only wanted a blowjob, the cock was pulled from his mouth, and he was being manhandled to get on the floor. He dropped to his hands and knees, surprised by the aggressiveness Simon was displaying. He smiled at his good fortune, for he wanted Simon to be more aggressive, to give as good as he got. He held his head down looking through his legs, his cock hovering just below his stomach, and watched Simon stand behind him. The ratty gym shorts fell around the ankles and Simon stepped out of them moving closer, feet apart straddling him. Cock smacked his ass, back and forth, then it pushed against his tight opening.

    “Let me in,” said Simon. It wasn’t a request, but a command stated boldly, with authority.

    Avery shuddered as he stretched to take Simon. He felt the cock push through his tightness, stretching him open. It pushed deeper, and he raised his head and cried out at the feel of it. He shivered with the fullness of the penetration. When he tilted his head back down, he saw his own cock drooling with arousal. “Fuck; fuck me,” Avery exclaimed as Simon pressed against his ass, and he knew he had every inch.

    Simon braced himself on Avery’s back, hands at each shoulder blade, as he fucked. He fucked with a fast pace, hips smacking against the ass until the sound of it echoed in the room. He fucked until his skin glistened wetly, then he buried his cock inside Avery and held still.

    “Simon…” uttered Avery.

    Simon held still, calming himself. Sweat trickled down his chest and back and dripped down on Avery’s back. Just as his arousal began to diminish, he moved, slowly, tugging outward until his cock hovered over Avery’s gaping hole, then he pushed back into it, slowly sinking into Avery’s depths until his hips were against the ass. He kept it up, slowly fucking him. Avery couldn’t understand how a guy could fuck so slowly, so teasingly. It was maddening and arousing and a torment he didn’t think he could endure.

    “Simon-fuck me. Fuck me harder,” exclaimed Avery.

    Simon tugged his cock outward until only the head remained inside Avery, and he began to fuck harder, faster, hammering Avery’s ass. He fucked until he felt as if he would burn up. He was gasping for breath as he banged the ass as hard as he could. He grabbed Avery by the hair and pulled his head up.

    “Take me,” Simon exclaimed.

    “Do it. Do it. Pump that shit in me,” Avery begged.

    Simon tugged on the head harder as he slammed his cock into the depths of Avery’s ass, and he shuddered with release.

    “Goddamn, tear that ass up,” said Mason.

    Avery and Simon looked over at the door seeing Mason and Brodie standing just inside it, each with a smirk on their face.

     

     

    When the rain stopped, they went for a hike, one that would take four or five hours. When they got back the sun was just above the ridgeline to the west and they stripped off their sweaty clothes and showered inside, Mason and Brodie going first, then Avery and Simon.

    Brodie and Mason sat out everything for salads and sandwiches, no one feeling like cooking or grilling. They ate in near silence; everyone was fatigued from their hike. There were occasional comments on what they wanted to do the next day, when the Braves would be on television next, and plans for the rest of the summer, slightly revised from their previous conversation.

    “Simon; are you going to college?” said Brodie.

    “Yes.”

    “Where?” said Mason.

    “I’m going to—”

    “Fuck, be quiet,” exclaimed Avery, pointing the window at the porch. A black bear was moving past. They sat in silence as they heard it crossing the porch. Then it was silent

    “You think he’s gone?” whispered Brodie.

    “Not gone enough,” said Mason.

    “I’m going to look,” said Avery, coming to his feet and tip toeing to the window. He looked right, then left. “I don’t see it.”

    “He could be at the end of the cabin,” said Simon

    “No, I see him now. He’s ambling on down the mountain,” said Avery with relief in his voice.

    “Jesus, that scared the shit out of me,” said Brodie.

    “Do you guys see bears up here often?” said Simon.

    “On occasion,” said Mason. “But not on the fucking porch.”

     

     

    A few hours later, after watching a movie, they were lounging around the living area, Mason and Brodie in the armchairs and Avery and Simon on the sofa. Avery was laying on his back with his head in Simon’s lap.

    “Fuck, I’m exhausted,” said Mason.

    “Me too,” said Avery.

    “Let’s call it a night,” said Brodie coming to his feet.

    They got up one at a time, each going to the bathroom to brush their teeth, then retired to their bedroom. Mason went in and lay next to Brodie, then Avery went into the other bedroom and lay next to Simon. The cabin grew quiet.

     

     

    “Avery, do you hear that?” whispered Simon.

    “Yeah.”

    “Is that…Mason and Brodie fucking?”

    “Sure sounds like it.”

    Avery giggled, then Simon and they lay in the dark and listened to the sound of a bed squeaking, at times tapping the wall in a steady rhythm, then the occasional exclamation. After a while, the cabin grew quiet again and Simon then Avery drifted back to sleep.

     

    Day Four

    Everyone was up and ready by eight, and they went out to the Tahoe and loaded up. The trail head was about three miles away, but they considered it worth the drive to do the trail with its rock overlooks and waterfalls.

    At the trailhead, they grabbed up backpacks and walking sticks and headed down the narrow path. It followed the contour of the mountain for some distance, then it began to climb. Switchbacks for what felt like a half mile, then they were moving near the ridgeline, climbing uneven stone steps, maneuvering around huge boulders, until they came to the first outcropping of rock that gave them a good view down the valley.

    “Wow, look at that view,” said Simon.

    Brodie came next to him. “It is nice, isn’t it.”

    They took pictures, then quenched their thirst before continuing. A couple of hours later, everyone was desperate for a rest, they came to the first waterfall. It was about thirty feet high and the area around it was wet from the water misting outward after splashing down into the small pool.

    “Let’s eat lunch and rest,” said Mason.

     

     

    It was the middle of the afternoon when they got back to the Tahoe. They were sweaty and fatigued and smiling, because the hike had been enjoyable with no surprises. Back at the cabin, they showered outside, horsing around, tugging on cocks and smacking ass cheeks. They went inside naked, water droplets still clinging to their skin.

    “Come on Brodie,” said Mason, taking him by the hand dragging him to their bedroom.

    Avery looked at Simon and smiled. “I think there is going to be some fucking going on.”

    Simon tugged on his cock, pulled the foreskin back, then looked at Avery. “Are they going to be the only ones?”

    “Hell, no,” said Avery and he grabbed Simon, pushing him against the refrigerator, kissing him. He moved from Simon’s lips to the neck then back to the right ear. He tongued it, following its curvature. “I could fuck you right here,” he whispered.

    Simon pushed him back, took him by the hand, and led him into their bedroom. They stood by the bed, kissing, touching, and tugging on cocks getting erect. Then Simon climbed on the bed on his stomach and looked over his right shoulder.

    “Avery, fuck me. Fuck my ass,” said Simon.

    Avery climbed onto the bed, straddling the legs. He kicked them together with his knee, then lay heavily on the smaller body. He felt its heat. Felt the smoothness of the skin. The softness of the hair, as he kissed the back of the neck. Simon moved beneath him, undulating in such a seductive manner, it drove him mad. He ran his hands up the sides, over the armpits, up the arms, until he could lace their fingers together, and he held Simon down as he pushed his cock against the firm around ass.

    “Fuck me…please,” Simon uttered, pushing upward with his ass feeling Avery’s cock, the thickness of it pressed between his cheeks.

    Avery came to his knees and watched Simon reach back and spread his ass cheeks. “Fuck,” he uttered as he stroked his leaking cock looking at Simon’s ass. Smooth, round, and so goddamn fuckable it made him breathless. He leaned to it, put his cock to the tight opening and pushed. Pushed until he felt Simon stretch open and let him in. He sank his entire nine inches into that ass and pushed against it as if he could push nine more into it. He tugged outward, over half of his cock, then pushed back into the ass, and he kept it up until he was fucking Simon. Banging that tight ass, slamming his cock into its depths until he couldn’t think of anything but Simon’s ass and their fuck.

     

     

     

    Day Five

    Brodie came into the living area to find Avery making scrambled eggs and Simon making coffee.

    “Thank you. I’m sick of muffins.”

    Brodie sat at the small table and watched the two of them move along the kitchen counter, naked, ass cheeks flexing and cock swinging free, and he tugged on his own.

    “Good morning,” said Mason.

    Brodie turned to see Mason coming to the table. Brodie smiled at the sight of the tall muscular body coming toward him with the cock swinging free. He considered how this summer’s trip was different from the past ones. Before the three of them slept together, showered together, and fucked together, never just two of them. But with Simon there, a natural pairing occurred, one that pleased him. He watched Mason sit next to him.

    “When did we decide to go without clothes?” said Mason.

    “Last night when you guys were trying to destroy that bed in there,” joked Avery.

    “Very funny,” uttered Brodie, but he smiled at the memory of Mason fucking the shit out of him until they were exhausted.

    Simon brought them coffee, then came back with their plates of egg and toast. Avery followed with their plates.

    “Can you get our coffee?” said Avery.

    “Sure,” said Simon.

    Avery watched Simon go to the counter and get their coffee. He watched the round ass flex, then looked at the lean body tugging on his cock.

    “Easy boy, after we eat,” said Mason.

    Avery turned to Mason and smiled.

    “You do like that?” said Mason.

    “Yes, I do,” whispered Avery.

    “What do you like?” said Simon setting the cups down then taking the seat next to Avery.

    “This,” said Avery, taking Simon’s cock and toying with it.

    “Avery! Not now.”

    “Yeah, Avery, wait until he eats, then he’ll fuck you,” said Brode, making them laugh.

     

     

    Coffee cups were drying on a dishtowel and the table cleared off. On the sofa Brode was riding Mason’s cock. Up and down, he worked his ass on it as he leaned forward and kissed him. He worked his ass slowly, feeling how the cock moved inside him, then he worked his ass fast, slamming it down on Mason until breathing hard, then slow again, moving up the long cock until it nearly slipped free.

    Across the room, Avery was in an armchair on his knees, bent over the back of it. Simon was fucking him, slamming cock into his depths all the way. The chair rocked with the physical nature of their fuck, how Avery had to hold the back of it as he rocked with Simon’s fuck.

     

     

    Mason sat up, hugged Brodie, pulling him closer. He guided him down on his cock, all the way, then he relaxed his hug letting Brodie move freely, dragging dripping cock up his stomach. Brodie kept moving, working his ass on the long cock. He relished the feel of it, the fullness of the penetration and that it was Mason. He wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come but he showed him. Moved on the cock until Mason was looking at him in that way; eyes glassy and unaware of nothing but him…just him.

    A cry out from across the room and Brodie smiled at Mason as he slid down on the cock.

     

     

    Avery has his head down rocking with every push into his ass. Simon shoved every inch into him, hips smacking against his ass. Simon was relentless, exhibiting stamina that was shocking and made his cock drool with is arousal. He loved the physical nature of their fuck, how that hot fuck took him, gave it as hard as he took. He let his cock flop between his thighs. His nuts were drawn up tight. Then he felt a kiss between his shoulder blades, a light bite, then the lips moved along his right shoulder, up his neck until manipulating his ear.

    “Avery, take me. Take me,” Simon uttered in a low breathless voice.

    “Fuck!” Avery cried out. “Do it, do it, fuck me.”

     

     

    Brodie works his ass on Mason’s cock until his own is wet and sliding slickly up Mason’s stomach. He leans back and works his ass, moves on the cock until he needs release. “Mason,” he utters and slams his ass down on Mason’s cock and shoots cum up his stomach and chest.

    “Fuck,” Mason exclaimed, and he pulls Brodie down on his cock as it erupts. He shudders with each ejaculation until spent.

     

     

    Across the room, Avery is sitting in the armchair, and Simon is sitting on his cock, working his ass up and down. Avery was too aroused. No way could he hold back, and he held Simon by the waist and pulled him down on his spurting cock.

     

     

    The guys were showered and dressed, the Tahoe packed up for the drive back. Avery checked the grounds while Mason made one last look around inside, then locked up the cabin. At the Tahoe, Mason climbed behind the wheel. Brodie was in the passenger seat and Avery and Simon were in back.

    “You guys ready to go home?” said Mason.

    “Not really,” joked Avery, and the guys laughed as Mason eased down the drive.

     

    End of Summer

    It was unspoken how the guys paired up. Mason and Brodie. Avery and Simon, a pairing as shocking to Avery as to anyone. Simon, the little kid next door that went to private schools and had nothing in common with him. Except he was wrong. Painfully wrong, joyfully wrong. Simon was no longer a little kid and hot as fuck without realizing it.

    They had sex when they could find a place to be alone, or when Avery’s parents were gone on a business trip, able to fuck in Avery’s bed, the shower, the back porch, and on the floor of the family room as some movie played in the background. Summer was nearly over when Simon texted that his parents would be gone the next weekend, visiting friends in Tallahassee. Avery wondered what Simon’s room looked like. Would there be models lining shelves and posters on the walls. What did his bed look like. A double bed with a colorful blanket suitable for a boy of twelve or thirteen. He wasn’t sure why he thought of it or why it worried him. Maybe he was looking for something that made him reconsider his feelings toward him, feelings he had not dared express, not fully.

    Brodie and Mason were together all the time, and Avery wondered if their parents had figured it out yet. It was so obvious they were more than friends. The way they touched each other or how Brodie looked at Mason. Come fall, they would be back at college and Mason said they would be sharing a dorm room. Avery considered how convenient it was for them to be at the same university, and to live together too. He wished Simon was going to his college, making him realize that every time it was brought up, something happened to interrupt Simon from answering. At least they would have one more weekend for themselves.

     

     

    Simon looked around his room for anything that spoke of his younger years. He had put away the Lego models, the young adult novels, and the odds and ends he had let sit out for so long he had forgotten them, until Avery was coming over. He went to his desk and wondered what to do with the stack of papers relating to his fall admission. He wanted to tell Avery he would be at the same college, but time and time again he held back. There was some lingering doubt that Avery would want to continue to be with him. He would be a freshman and Avery, a senior with graduation in sight. Maybe this weekend will be an opportunity to confess. He picked up a composition notebook he used to make lists and notes preparing for his departure and set it on top of the papers. He didn’t want Avery to find out by stumbling upon them. It would look as if he was keeping it from him.

    The doorbell rang. “Avery,” Simon whispered, and he smiled as he headed down to let him in. He saw his reflection in his mirror and smiled at how he was dressed as Avery did all the time. A pair of running shorts and nothing else.

    He swung the front door open to Avery dressed in cotton gym shorts, a stretched out frayed T-shirt, and sandals. Avery smiled and strolled into the foyer past him as he pulled the door closed and locked it.

    “I’ve never been in your home. Show me around,” said Avery.

    Simon knew their parents were cordial to each other but not friends, so they never socialized. He led Avery through the foyer, letting him look into the formal living room, the dining room, then led him into the main part of the house. The room his family lived in. The kitchen with its island they ate at most often, and the family room it was open to. Avery took it in, strolled past the wall of photos over the sofa, then to the glass door that led to the patio and gazebo.

    “Nice backyard. Mom wanted something like this, but dad never did shit about it,” said Avery. “Okay, take me upstairs to your room.”

    Simon grinned, then led Avery to the stairs. On the second floor, he pointed out his parents’ room, a spare bedroom, then his room. It faced the street and was at the end of the hall, past the bathroom it shared with the spare bedroom. Avery followed him into it and as he sat in his desk chair, Avery slowly spun around looking at everything.

    “Nice room,” said Avery then he faced Simon. He stood still, just staring at him.

    “What?”

    Avery grinned, then removed his T-shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor. He slid the gym shorts down, and as Simon knew, he had no underwear on. Avery stepped out of the shorts with his left foot, then kicked them into the corner of the room with the right.

    “You miss this?” said Avery running a hand down his chest, over his stomach, downward until he was tugging on his cock.

    “Yes.”

    “Show me.”

    Simon came to his feet, pushed the running shorts down and stepped out of them as he moved to Avery. He went to his knees and kissed the stomach while tugging on the cock, manipulating it, feeling it swell thicker, elongate until it was at its full eight inches. He licked it, base to head, he licked the nuts working them around within the sack, then he took the cock in his mouth and pushed forward.

    “Goddamn!” exclaimed Avery with fists balled tight as he shivered with the feel of Simon’s mouth. He watched the head move on his cock. The back and forth that he felt along the length of his cock, and when the head held still, most of his cock visible, he shivered with the feel of the tongue swirling around the head. He relished the suck and began to work his hips to increase his pleasure.

    “Fuck!” exclaimed Avery as he reached down and took Simon under the arms bringing his to feet…barely. Simon never got his footing as Avery swung him around and tossed him on his bed. He lay back, drool on his chin, and spread his legs.

    “Fuck me, fuck me, Avery.”

    Avery got on his knees between the raised legs. He took them behind the knees and spread them wide apart as he moved forward until his wet cock touched the ass. He worked his hips slapping his cock across the ass, then watched Simon reach around a thigh take it in hand. He shivered as Simon rubbed his cock over the ass, drilling in on the puckered tight opening.

    “Avery; push it in me,” said Simon.

    Avery pushed, slowly, feeling the unbearable squeeze on the head of his cock, how it made him more aroused, made his cock flex thicker, stretching that ass open. He pushed deeper, inch after inch, until halfway inside Simon.

    Simon threw his arms out, head tilted back, mouth open and moaned whorishly as he arched his back and pushed down on Avery’s cock. He undulated so seductively Avery pushed deeper while watching the body move. Watched how Simon clutched at the bed and worked ass on his cock. He could come just watching the hot fuck move, but he needed to increase the feel of it.

    “Fuck me, fuck me, do it,” uttered Simon.

    Avery worked his cock through the tightness, pushing deeper with every push. He worked his hips until in a steady fuck. He held the legs to his chest, slightly turned to twist Simon’s hips as he banged his insides.

    Avery shifted, held the legs in front of him behind each knee and he pushed forward then down, burying the knees in the mattress either side of Simon’s body. Folded in half, ass angled up, and Simon’s cock drooling on the flat stomach, Avery began to fuck again. Fuck hard, fast, slamming his cock down into the ass, hips smacking against it. He fucked until the bed protested beneath them, squeaking and rocking as he hammered Simon’s ass. He fucked until sweat trickled down his face and his need for release was building.

    “Too soon,” uttered Avery, pulling out watching his cock flex up and down.

    Simon jumped up and manhandled Avery to his back. He moved on him, quickly, kicking the right leg out and holding the left to his chest as he put his cock to the tight ass.

    “Tell me,” said Simon.

    “Fuck me. Come on, fuck me, fuck me,” said Avery as cock penetrated his ass making him stumble over his pleadings.

    Simon moved in a way none of his past fucks moved. The way the body undulated, working the hips, shoving cock into his depths. How the hands moved on his leg or toyed with his dripping cock. How Simon kissed his foot, tongued the toes, licked the sole making him shudder as cock kept pumping into his ass. There were too many sensations, too many ways Simon touched and caressed and fucked.

    Avery held his head up watching the lean body, the smooth dark skin glistening wetly, then he looked up into the dark brown eyes seeing the desire, lust, determination. He tilted his head back and just relished the feel of it, all of it, as Simon fucked him.

    Avery felt empty, Simon no longer hammering his insides, and he looked up as Simon moved over his hips. He watched Simon hold his cock and move down on it. The ass took his cock, every thick inch until seated on it. Simon was slow stroking his own cock while grinding ass down on his cock.

    “Jesus; you hot fuck,” Avery exclaimed as Simon began to move. He watched the lean body rise revealing his cock, then descend back down on it, all the way.

    Simon built up a steady pace, working his ass on Avery’s cock. Up and down, he moved while he grew hot again. Sweat trickled down his chest and back, ran down into his face, and he just let it, focused solely on Avery and his cock.

    Avery became so aroused he knew he could not hold back this time. He felt it, how his body tightened, how he fought the urge to roll Simon to his back and do the fucking, wanting to hammer that round ass. But the way it moved on his cock, up and down, was more arousing, pushing him to the point of release.

    “Simon…”

    “Do it, pump it in me. Come on…do it, do it,” Simon begged, and he leaned back giving Avery a better view of his ass moving on the thick cock, up and down every inch while he stroked his own. “Avery!” Simon cried out as his cock erupted, sending a thick rope of cum up the chest and neck. Then his cock spurt wad after wad that rained down on his chest and stomach until cum only dribbled out.

    Avery saw the release, how it covered the lean torso. He felt it, the spasming of the ass around his cock. It was too much. He sat up, grabbed the thighs and pushed Simon’s ass down on his spurting cock.

     

     

    Except for going out, they never dressed. They stayed naked and fucked and sucked until neither could come again. By Sunday morning, they were exhausted but sated in a way they could not describe.

    Simon expected his parents in the afternoon so just before noon he was making sandwiches while Avery went upstairs to shower and dress. He considered their weekend, wondering if college could be like this. He needed to tell Avery he was going to be at the same college. It was dumb as hell not to tell him.

     

     

    Avery came out of the bathroom and stood in Avery’s room putting on the clothes he came over in. The ratty gym shorts and T-shirt that he did not want Simon’s parents to see him in. His cock bulged the front obscenely, something desired when he came over, but not when meeting the parents. He looked around the room again, then at the neat desk. He saw the composition notebook sitting on some papers. Curious, he nudged it over and gasped.

     

     

    “Simon?”

    “Yes?”

    “Were you going to tell me?”

    Simon turned to see Avery grinning at him, holding up one of the documents from the college. Simon smiled, then laughed.

    “I kept meaning to but wondered if you would care…you know, me a freshman and—”

    “Stop. Simon don’t berate yourself. You need to have confidence,” said Avery, then he smiled wickedly. “You should have confidence in other things the way you now have confidence in sex.”

    “You’re right but…it’s just…do you really no longer look at me as that little kid next door?”

    Avery laughed, moved to Simon, pushing him against the refrigerator. “After all the fucking we’ve done this summer, need you ask?” Then he kissed Simon.

     

     

    Simon stood at the garage door as his parents climbed out their SUV.

    “How were the Bakers?” said Simon.

    “Good. How was your weekend? Did you go out and do anything?” said his father.

    “No; just hung around the house.”

     

    Fall Semester

    Simon arrived on campus on Thursday afternoon. He got his belongings to room 321, his dorm room for the semester and set up his side of the room. He met his roommate, one David Harris of Montgomery, who told him about his life, then asked about his own. They ate dinner in the cafeteria together then made their way down the hall meeting other guys on the floor.

    Friday morning, David told Simon he would see him on Sunday, that he had to drive back to Montgomery for his grandparents’ anniversary party on Saturday. Simon couldn’t believe his luck, the weekend before classes and he had the room for himself. He wasn’t dressed, still in his boxers, but if Avery were on campus, then he wouldn’t need to get dressed. If only Avery would get his ass there. Avery had said he would be there Friday, then indicated it might be Saturday, depending on something with his family. He took out his cellphone and texted him.

    Are you going to make it today or tomorrow?”

    It was twenty long minutes before Avery replied.

    Have you gotten moved in?

    Yes, and my roommate is going to be away until Sunday. Hint, hint.

    Ten minutes passed, then five more, and Simon was pacing back and forth in the room. His phone chimed with a new message.

    Knock, knock.

    Simon looked at the door wondering what kind of joke Avery was playing at. He went to it and pulled it open, finding Avery standing in the hall.

    “I made it,” Avery joked.

    Simon looked at the familiar body, feeling relieved, then feeling his desire for it. “Get in here,” he said, pulling Avery into his room, shutting and locking the door.

    Avery was wearing that ratty T-shirt from the weekend together at his home, and a pair of cut off khakis, the frayed legs coming to just above the knees. Simon was inpatient. He had waited long enough, and he grabbed the T-shirt at the neck and ripped it down the front. Avery looked shocked then smiled as he helped Simon get the remnants from his arms. Then he looked shocked again as Simon pushed him down on the bed. Simon was over him, tugging on the khakis, slipping the button free, then unzipping them until pubic hair and cock came into view. No underwear, and Simon looked up with a smirk.

    “What? It’s faster to get naked,” Avery joked.

    “Then get fucking naked,” said Simon, tugging the khaki shorts down the legs roughly.

    Simon manhandled Avery, turned him crossways on the bed and dragged his ass to the edge of it. He rubbed his crotch against the bare ass as he kneaded the pecs, rubbed over the chest, then twisted both nipples making Avery howl in protest. He stood straight, shoving boxers to the floor and kicking them off. His cock was hard, and he slow stroked it before Avery.

    “Tell me,” said Simon.

    Avery grinned, then looked serious. “Fuck me, Simon.”

    Simon penetrated Avery with his middle finger working it in the tight ass, then he slipped two fingers into him, twisting and pumping them through the tightness.

    “Fuck; Simon, do it, fuck me,” uttered Avery.

    Simon put his cock to Avery’s ass and pushed the head into him. He shivered at the tight squeeze, then he worked his cock inward a little, then back out, fractions of an inch, but enough to make Avery feel it. He kept it up, working deeper and deeper until finally, he was buried in the big jock’s ass. He pressed against it feeling his cock flex inside him.

    Then Simon fucked Avery to cum.

    Simon held the legs up, spread far apart, and fucked. He hammered his cock inside Avery, banging the ass until his cock ached for relief. He slowed, working his cock though the loosened opening, wondering how something could feel so fucking good, then he pulled out and stepped back, dragging Avery off the bed. He spun him around and pushed him to lay across the bed, knees on the floor. He kicked the legs apart, moved between them and buried his cock inside Avery.

    “Fuck, I wanted this…wanted you,” uttered Simon.

    “You got me,” whispered Avery through clinched teeth as cock banged his insides.

    Simon worked his cock into Avery’s depths, shoving inward until hips smacked loudly against ass. The sound of it echoed in the room and Simon didn’t care if someone heard. He was on a mission, and he kept fucking. Fucking until sweaty and breathing hard. Then he shoved into Avery, all the way, and came. He shuddered with his release, then slow fucked Avery to pump out the last of his load.

    Simon didn’t lose his erection, he stayed aroused, and he kept slow fucking Avery, worked his cock until cum pumped out of the ass and trickled down it and the right thigh.

    “Jesus. Simon. Keep going,” exclaimed Avery. His cock was pushed down, pinned against the side of the bed and every shove of cock into his ass made it flex with his arousal. If Simon kept hammering his ass, he was going to cum.

    Simon lay on Avery’s back and kept up his slow pace. It was agonizing, arousing, and pushing him to his limits of endurance.  He nipped the left shoulder, ran his nose through the hair at the back of the neck, then kissed the neck, not once stopping, just kept up his slow fuck, drilling his cock all the way into Avery’s ass.

    Simon got his second wind, and he rose, held Avery by the waist, and fucked hard. He was once again physical with it, hips banging against the ass as he hammered Avery’s insides.

    Avery rocked against the bed, his cock painfully erect. It always shocked him how Simon could be so physical in their fuck, but he knew he was to blame. It was how he wanted it and had shown Simon time and time again how much he wanted it. Now he took Simon’s fuck, hips smacking his ass until he knew they had to be red. He wanted to cum it aroused him so.

     “I’m going to cum,” exclaimed Simon.

    “Me too,” said Avery, as Simon shoved inward into his ass pressing his cock against the bed. It pushed him to eruption, and he shuddered as his cock pumped out a load on the floor.

    “Jesus!” Simon cried out, then slammed into Avery’s depths and shuddered with his own release.

     

     

    Simon ordered a pizza, telling Avery they could not go out in public with him shirtless and cock bulging the front of his khakis. Instead, he kept Avery in his room, naked and teased with a partial erection all evening, except when he pushed him to full erection for fucking. With the pizza nearly finished, Simon rubbed his cock over the last piece and waved it at Avery.

    “Lick it off.”

    Avery smiled, then went to his elbows and knees and licked Simon’s cock until it was clean, then he sucked him until cum gushed down his throat.

     

    Epilogue

    Spring semester was almost over, and Simon was torn. He looked forward to finishing his first year and having the break over summer. But Avery was graduating and wouldn’t be around. There were plans for the summer, a week at the beach before Avery had to start his job, then he was going to visit him in Atlanta on weekends. It wasn’t a long drive, less than two hours, but it meant there would be no Wednesday night specials, as they endearingly called them, or bike rides around campus and sex in some out of the way place that scared and aroused him all at the same time. What if we get caught, he had asked Avery, who had shrugged, then said won’t happen.

    Brodie and Mason were moving to Seattle, because Brodie got a tech job that paid so damn much, Mason said he would endure the nasty winter weather and a renewed job search for himself, turning down one in Raleigh. Simon knew it saddened Avery for his best friends to move across country. There were plans for shared vacations once he graduated, giving them three years to save up and get settled into their jobs. Then it would be Paris or Sidney or Berlin or…wherever they desired to go.

    Three years. It would be three years of this separation. It seemed like an eternity to Simon, but when that day arrived, and he had his diploma in hand and a job in Atlanta, then life would really begin for him and Avery.


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


  • The School Bully

    First day at a new school. One look at me and I know I’m getting attention, and not just because I’m new. I’m in good shape, my arms are sculpted from the gym, my stride is confident.

    The locker room was loud, thick with the smell of sweat, boys, and testosterone. And him. James. The team captain. The guy who thinks he rules the world because everyone agrees with him. Tall, with a raised chin and that damn confident attitude. He stood in the center, laughing at some skinny kid whose cap he had just snatched and thrown over him. Everyone around him was laughing as if it was funny, not pathetic.

    I couldn’t ignore it.

    I walked over, without a word, grabbed the cap, gave it back to the boy, and looked James straight in the eye.

    “You got a problem?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. His voice was deep and harsh. He came closer than necessary.

    “I have a problem with assholes who think they’re someone because everyone kisses their ass,” I said calmly but with clear emphasis.

    Before he could respond, he pushed me against the wall. Not hard, but hard enough to make my ears ring.

    “Who the fuck are you to interfere?” he snarled.

    “Someone who won’t let you push people around,” I said, pushing myself away from the wall and looking him straight in the face. “What, you’re not used to someone not being afraid of your big ego?”

    The locker room fell silent. Everyone froze. I could feel all their eyes on me.

    James raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got balls, new guy. But I like bets. How about you?”

    I started to smile.

    “Perfect,” I said, stepping into the center of the locker room. “Bet: plank. Static hold. First one to drop, loses.”

    “And the stakes?”

    “The loser gives the winner a blowjob. Here. Now.”

    The silence exploded into a buzz of whispers and laughter. Someone in the back gasped, “Oh fuck…”

    James looked me in the eyes. For a second, I thought he was going to back down. But no. He was too proud.

    “Okay, new guy,” he snorted. “Just don’t cry when you lose.”

    “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Worry about your throat.”

    The floor in the locker room was cold and hard, but I didn’t care. I dropped to my forearms, my body tense, motionless. James did the same across from me. A group of guys surrounded us, some from the team, some just regular onlookers. Some of them had eyes like saucers. One of them took out his phone and started the stopwatch.

    “Ready?” he muttered.

    “Always,” I said quietly, looking James in the eyes.

    “Go.”

    Everyone fell silent.

    James tensed his body. He was in good shape, you could see that, his shoulders tense, his triceps bulging under his shirt sleeve. But after the first two minutes, it started.

    Quiet breathing through clenched teeth. Then a grinding sound. His elbows began to tremble slightly. Me? I stood like a rock. I could have held that position for hours. I had been practicing it every day.

    Four minutes passed. Beads of sweat appeared on his neck. His gaze was no longer confident.

    “You know you’re losing, right?” I whispered.

    James didn’t answer. He clenched his teeth. But his hips dropped slightly — his body gave up.

    “Time!” someone shouted. “James touched the floor. Matt wins!”

    The locker room fell silent. Everyone looked at him. He lowered his head, breathing heavily.

    “A bet’s a bet,” someone said from behind.

    James looked at me. His eyes were dark. Maybe from anger. Or maybe… from something else.

    “Come on,” I said quietly, unzipping my pants. “Show me you’ve got guts, not just muscles.”

    Quiet like never before. Only the sound of my zipper. I pulled out my cock slowly, taking my time. Already hard from the thought alone, from the tension, from the fact that I was humiliating the school king on his own turf.

    When he saw it, he blinked. As if he had just realized the bet wasn’t just about pride… but about domination. And that he had just lost to someone who could literally rip his throat out, not to mention how big my cock was.

    James stood motionless, his eyes fixed on my dick. For the first time, there was no arrogance in his eyes. Rather… surprise. Or shock.

    He took half a step back. As if he wanted to back down.

    “What’s up, tough guy?” I whispered, leaning slightly toward him. “You thought you’d always be the one calling the shots?”

    From behind, someone said again, quietly but clearly:

    “A bet’s a bet.”

    James reacted. As if he remembered that everyone was watching. That if he backed down now, he’d show that he had no honor.

    He took a breath. A deep, sharp breath. And then… he knelt down. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Not after what he’d done to others. I grabbed him by the neck, gently.

    He opened his mouth and took me inside.

    Deep, hot contact. A little clumsy, a little stiff, but he did it. He sucked me with his eyes closed, breathing heavily through his nose. I don’t know if he felt shame or humiliation. But he knew there was no turning back.

    “That’s right,” I muttered.

    I didn’t want to destroy James. I didn’t want to show him that I was better. I wanted him to understand. That not everyone would be afraid of him. And that sometimes you have to take responsibility for your actions.

    And that was the simplest lesson I could teach him.

    Everyone was watching. And no one laughed, they didn’t even try, because despite everything, they were still afraid of him.

    James sucks me slowly, clumsily, but with determination. His hands are clenched on my thighs, his body tense as if he’s doing it against his will, but he’s doing it. His tongue trembles slightly, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. He breathes through his nose, loudly. With every movement, I feel my body pulsing more and more.

    I pull his hair, not hard, just enough to make him look me in the eyes. There is anger in them. But also… something else. Maybe shame. Maybe anger. Or maybe the fact that he didn’t think he’d really have to do this.

    The silence in the locker room is heavier than the air after a workout. No one says a word. Everyone is watching. At me. At him. At us.

    I can feel it building inside me. A wave of tension in my gut, all the way down to my balls.

    “I’m about to cum,” I whisper into his ear. “So brace your throat.”

    And I finish. With a deep, strong thrust. He chokes slightly, but doesn’t pull away. He presses his lips together, swallows, then slowly moves away, wiping his mouth with his hands. His face is red with rage, but also… with some kind of humility. Swallowed pride.

    James gets up, still panting. He doesn’t look at anyone.

    “You’re lucky,” I say, zipping up my pants. “That we didn’t play to see who could fuck who. Because you’d be walking around with a sore ass for a week.”

    Someone behind me, I don’t know who, shouts:

    “There’s always overtime!”


    If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.

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


  • The Male Sex Club

    “What’s the password, handsome?” The bouncer’s gruff voice cut through the thick cloud of smoke that hung around the doorway to The Den.

    “It’s ‘Gorilla Grip,’ tonight,” he replied: the name of the underground wrestling champion known for his unyielding bear hug. He had overheard it at the gym where he worked, his curiosity piqued by the whispers of late-night matches and the rumors of what went on behind the scenes. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he stepped into the dimly lit club. The air had the smell of sweat and anticipation.

    Inside, the walls were lined with posters of bulging muscles and men in tight spandex, flexing their might. The floor was sticky under his boots, a testament to the countless drinks spilled in passionate cheers and heated rivalries. The music was a thumping bass that reverberated through his chest, setting his pulse to a rhythm that matched the neon lights flickering above the bar. The patrons were a mix of leather-clad bikers, burly construction workers, and men in business suits who had come to shed the confines of their daily lives.

    He made his way through the throng of bodies, each more muscular than the last, until he reached a hallway marked ‘VIP’. The door at the end was guarded by another hulking man, this one with a shaved head and a scowl that could cut glass. The bouncer nodded at the password and stepped aside, allowing him entry into a dimly lit room that was a stark contrast to the raucous club outside. The air was thick with tension and a hint of something else: the scent of manly desire that lingered just below the surface.

    In the center of the room stood a ring, the ropes tight and gleaming with sweat. Around it, a crowd of men watched with rapt attention as two figures circled each other, their heavy breaths echoing off the walls. The wrestlers were both naked, their bodies a canvas of muscles that rippled with every movement. The bigger of the two, a man named Tank, was known for his brute strength and insatiable appetite for victory, both in and out of the ring. His opponent, a newcomer named Spike, was smaller but faster, his eyes glinting with a hunger that suggested he had something to prove.

    As the match began, the crowd grew quiet, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them. The men grappled, their bodies sliding against each other, the slap of skin on skin a testament to their power. The Den was notorious for its no-holds-barred fights, where submission was the only way out. Tank, with his massive biceps and bulging chest, tried to overpower Spike with his size, but the smaller wrestler was agile, slipping out of his grasp and landing a series of quick jabs to his ribs.

    Spike’s strategy was clear: wear Tank down before he could exert his full strength. Yet, every time Tank’s meaty hands wrapped around Spike’s waist, lifting him into the air, the crowd roared, knowing that the tide could turn at any moment. The newcomer’s lithe body arched and twisted, his muscles bulging as he fought to break free, his cock bobbing with the effort. Each escape was a victory, and the tension grew palpable as the match went on, the air thickening with the scent of adrenaline and desire.

    The wrestlers’ sweat mingled, glistening on their chests and stomachs, making the mat below them slick. The smaller man’s agility was a thing of beauty, his muscles working in a symphony of power and precision. Yet, Tank’s unyielding endurance was equally mesmerizing, his thick erection a testament to his own excitement. The two men were like primal beasts locked in a dance of dominance, each move calculated and executed with a raw, animalistic passion that had the crowd on the edge of their seats.

    Spike, the newcomer, managed to dodge another of Tank’s attempts to pin him, slipping between the larger man’s legs and wrapping his arms around Tank’s waist. The crowd gasped as Tank’s erection brushed against his face, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. The music stopped, and all that could be heard were the grunts of effort and the heavy breathing of the men in the ring. Spike took the opportunity to lean in, his tongue darting out to taste the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip of Tank’s cock. The crowd erupted in a mix of shock and arousal, some jeering while others cheered.

    Tank’s eyes went wide with surprise, but instead of pushing Spike away, he leaned into it, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle. Spike took this as an invitation and opened his mouth, taking the head of Tank’s thick erection between his lips. The crowd’s roar grew louder, the energy in the room shifting from a tense battle to a heated display of carnality. The smaller wrestler’s tongue swirled around the head, teasing and taunting, as his hands explored Tank’s muscular thighs and firm buttocks.

    The big man’s knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward, pulling Spike along with him. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, making room for the impromptu performance. Tank leaned against the ropes, his hands on Spike’s head, guiding him deeper onto his cock. Spike’s cheeks hollowed with every bob, his throat muscles working to accommodate the sheer size. It was clear that this was not his first time pleasuring a man in such a manner. His movements were confident, almost possessive, as if claiming his victory in a different sort of battle.

    Tank’s moans grew louder, his body tightening with every stroke of Spike’s tongue. The crowd’s energy shifted from shock to awe as the scene unfolded before them. Some men leaned in, their own desire reflected in their eyes, while others shifted uncomfortably, not used to such blatant sexuality in their violent sanctuary. Yet, no one dared to interrupt the show, not when they could feel the tension building like a coiled spring ready to snap.

    Spike’s hands roamed over Tank’s body, feeling the contours of his muscles and the heat that radiated from his skin. His own erection pressed against the mat, painfully trapped between his stomach and Tank’s thick thigh. He could feel the eyes of the men around him, their desire mixing with the sweat that coated their bodies. The air grew thick with lust, making it even harder to breathe as he took more of Tank’s length into his mouth, his throat stretching to accommodate the massive girth.

    Tank’s hips began to buck, pushing Spike further down, and the smaller wrestler knew he was close to victory. He sucked harder, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just under the head of Tank’s cock. The big man’s grunts turned to moans, his body tensing as he approached climax. Spike felt a thrill of power, knowing he had brought this mighty beast to his knees — or at least to the edge of the ring — with nothing but his mouth and a bit of daring.

    The room was a cacophony of cheers and jeers, the crowd torn between admiration for Spike’s audacity and disbelief at the sight before them. The neon lights reflected off the sweat-slicked bodies, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene. The tension was palpable, a tangible force that made the air crackle with electricity. The men around the ring leaned in closer, their breaths bated, as they watched the unfolding intimacy.

    Tank’s eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on the ropes tightening as Spike’s skilled mouth worked magic. The newcomer’s tongue was relentless, exploring every inch of his cock with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His hands massaged Tank’s balls, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from the big man that sent shockwaves through the room. Spike could feel the pressure building, the heat of Tank’s orgasm imminent.

    Around the ring, the atmosphere had transformed. The rapt attention of the crowd had ignited a frenzied lust, and as if on cue, the spectators began to strip, their clothes flying off in a blur of fabric and leather. The air grew thick with the scent of desire, as men paired off and found their own battles to wage, their hands exploring the contours of muscles and skin that moments ago were only appreciated from a safe distance.

    Tank’s legs trembled, and his breathing grew erratic. His eyes locked onto Spike’s, the intensity of his gaze mirroring the passion in his voice as he whispered, “You’re going to make me cum, aren’t you?” Spike nodded, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. He knew he had the upper hand now. The crowd watched, their own hands moving in rhythm with the scene before them, stroking their own erections in time with Spike’s bobbing head.

    The smaller wrestler’s throat muscles constricted around Tank’s shaft, creating a tight, wet warmth that sent waves of pleasure through the big man’s body. His hips began to thrust in time with Spike’s movements, the sound of wet, sloppy sucking echoing through the room. The tension grew so intense it was almost unbearable, the anticipation of Tank’s release hanging in the air like a thundercloud about to unleash its fury.

    But just as Spike felt the first twitches of Tank’s impending climax, the big man abruptly pulled away, his cock glistening with spit and precum. Spike looked up, surprised and a little hurt, his eyes questioning the sudden change. Tank’s face was a mask of determination, his eyes dark and intense. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the club, he yanked Spike to his feet, spinning him around and pushing him face-first into the turnbuckle.

    The crowd’s excitement grew to a fever pitch as Tank lined up his cock with Spike’s tight, round ass. Spike’s eyes widened with a mix of fear and arousal, his own erection standing at attention despite the painful stretch he knew was about to come. He had never been with a man so large before, and the thought of taking all of Tank was both terrifying and exhilarating.

    With a snarl, Tank pushed forward, his cockhead breaching Spike’s entrance. Spike’s scream filled the room, a raw, primal sound that sent a shiver down the spines of every man present. The newcomer’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he was split open by the sheer size of Tank’s shaft. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, their own desires reflected in the harsh, gritted teeth of the wrestlers.

    Tank didn’t pause, driving in deeper and deeper, his cock stretching Spike’s hole to its limits. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet slap of each thrust resonated through the room. Spike’s moans grew higher in pitch, the pain morphing into something else, something that made his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head. The sensation of being filled so completely, so dominantly, was overwhelming.

    As Tank’s thrusts grew more intense, Spike felt his own orgasm approaching. His erection, still trapped between his stomach and Tank’s thigh, was leaking pre-cum, leaving a wet trail on the mat. Tank noticed and, with a grin that was more snarl than smile, reached down and wrapped one of his meaty fists around Spike’s cock. He began to pump it in time with his thrusts, his movements sure and steady, his grip firm.

    The crowd watched, their eyes glued to the two wrestlers, their own hands moving in silent imitation of the scene before them. The tension grew tauter with every grunt and groan, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Then, without warning, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Spike’s body went rigid, his back arching as he came, his cock spurting hot, white cum that shot against the ropes, spattering the first few rows of the audience. The men closest to the ring flinched, but their eyes remained glued to the spectacle, their own arousal reaching new heights.

    Tank felt the tightening around his cock, the delicious pressure building in his balls, and he knew Spike was on the edge. He picked up his pace, driving into the smaller man with the force of a pile-driver. His eyes rolled back, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own orgasm. The crowd’s chant grew louder, their energy feeding into the scene like a living, breathing entity. “Cum for us, Tank! Make him your bitch!”

    With a roar that could be heard over the music, Tank reached his peak, his hips bucking as he emptied himself into Spike. The newcomer’s body spasmed around his cock, milking every last drop from him. Spike’s own orgasm had left him trembling, his legs threatening to give out from the intensity of the sensation. The two men remained locked together for a moment, panting and sweating, their bodies entwined in a dance of power and passion.

    The crowd erupted in applause, their own releases echoing through the room as they watched the two wrestlers in the throes of pleasure. The energy in the room was electric, a heady mix of victory and desire that left everyone feeling alive and vital. Spike’s body was a canvas of pain and pleasure, the bruises and sweat a testament to the battle he had just endured. Yet, he wore it with a pride that was unmistakable.

    As Tank pulled out, his cock glistening with sweat and cum, Spike turned to face him, his eyes alight with something that could only be described as triumph. The smaller man’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving with exertion, but there was a fire in his gaze that told Tank he had not been fully broken. Without a word, Tank leaned in and claimed Spike’s mouth in a kiss that was as fierce and demanding as their wrestling match had been. Their tongues clashed together, each man tasting the other’s desire, their kiss a silent declaration of dominance.

    The crowd around them had grown quiet, their own passions momentarily forgotten as they watched the intimate display. The bouncers at the door exchanged knowing smirks, having seen this play out many times before. It was a ritual, a dance of power that played out in the aftermath of every fight in the VIP section of The Den. The wrestlers were not just there for the sport; they were there for the thrill, the passion, and the unspoken challenge that came with every bout.

    Tank’s whisper in Spike’s ear was like a hot brand, searing through the haze of pleasure and pain. The suggestion sent a thrill down Spike’s spine, a promise that this was far from over. He nodded, his voice a hoarse murmur that matched the rhythm of their heavy breathing. “Yeah, stud. Lead on, and I’ll follow.” The words hung in the air, a challenge accepted, a line drawn in the sand of this newfound territory of lust and dominance.

    The crowd watched as Tank and Spike stumbled out of the ring, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum, their eyes never leaving each other’s. The energy between them was palpable, a live wire that could not be contained. They made their way through the sea of muscled bodies, the air thick with the scent of man and desire, to a back room where the VIPs often retreated for private, uninhibited play. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the club, leaving only the harsh echoes of their passion.

    The room was small and sparse, with a single bed in the center and a few pieces of gear scattered about. The walls were a dull gray, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the club outside. It was here that the men who truly knew the meaning of submission and dominance came to play. Tank’s massive form pinned Spike to the bed, his heavy weight pressing the smaller man into the mattress, his cock still half-hard from their public display.

    Spike’s heart hammered in his chest, a mix of excitement and fear as Tank’s hands roamed over his body. His own cock was still sensitive from his recent orgasm, and the slightest touch sent jolts of pleasure through him. The big man’s touch was rough, his calloused hands leaving trails of fire across Spike’s skin as he claimed ownership of every inch of his new conquest.

    Tank’s mouth found Spike’s neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he kissed and nipped his way down to the smaller man’s chest. Spike arched his back, his nipples tightening as Tank’s tongue flicked across them, teasing and tormenting until he could take no more. His hands grabbed at Tank’s shoulders, his nails digging in, urging him on. The room was a blur of shadows and desire, the only light coming from the crack under the door, painting the scene in a stark, erotic contrast.

    Tank’s cock grew harder again, his hips grinding into Spike’s, their erections trapped between them like a declaration of war. He grabbed a fistful of Spike’s hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. The smaller wrestler’s pulse thundered under his touch, a silent invitation to leave his mark. With a growl, Tank leaned in and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh, tasting the salt and sweat that coated Spike’s skin. Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the pain melded with pleasure.

    The room was a symphony of grunts and moans, the only soundtrack to their intense encounter. Tank’s hand slid down to Spike’s erection, his grip firm and unyielding as he began to stroke him in time with his own hips. Spike’s body responded eagerly, his cock swelling in his hand as he was brought to the brink of orgasm once more. The power dynamics of the wrestling match had shifted, the tables turned in a dance of submission and domination that was as natural as breathing.

    Tank’s teeth grazed along Spike’s collarbone, leaving a trail of red in their wake. Spike’s own hands found Tank’s ass, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. The big man’s cock was a beast between his legs, thick and demanding, and Spike craved the feeling of being completely filled. He spread his legs wider, arching his back to give Tank better access, a silent plea for more.

    Tank’s hand slid down to Spike’s ass, his thick fingers probing, testing the tenderness of his hole. Spike gasped, his body quivering with anticipation. He had never been with a man so big, so powerful, and the idea of taking him again so soon was both terrifying and thrilling. He could feel his own ass clench with need, his body begging for the invasion that was to come.

    Tank’s cock slid back into Spike with an ease that spoke of experience. The smaller man’s eyes watered with the pain, but he took it, welcoming the stretch as Tank pushed deeper. The bedframe creaked with every thrust, the headboard banging against the wall in a rhythmic pattern that matched their heartbeats. The sound was a symphony of passion, a cacophony of desire that filled the room.

    Spike’s own cock was a slick mess, leaking pre-cum onto Tank’s stomach. The big man leaned down and took it in his mouth, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he sucked and licked. Spike’s moans grew louder, his body writhing beneath the heavy weight of Tank’s body. The taste of himself mixed with Tank’s saliva was an intoxicating cocktail that only added to his arousal.

    The air was thick with the sounds of their passion, the smell of sex and sweat permeating every inch of the room. Spike’s fingers clawed at the bedsheets, his body straining to meet every powerful thrust. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through him, a delicious mix of agony and ecstasy that made his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head. Tank’s teeth sank into his shoulder, a possessive bite that left an indelible mark, a brand that told the world who had claimed him.

    Tank’s hips moved like a piston, driving deep into Spike’s willing body, their muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm that was as old as time. The smaller wrestler’s legs wrapped around Tank’s waist, his heels digging into his lower back, urging him to go harder, faster, deeper. The room was a blur of shadows and light, their bodies moving together in a dance that was both violent and beautiful.

    Spike’s moans grew louder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt his orgasm building once more. Tank’s mouth found his, swallowing his cries with a kiss that was as demanding as the fucking he was receiving. The big man’s hand tightened around Spike’s cock, stroking in time with his own thrusts, pushing him closer to the edge. Spike could feel the pressure building in his balls, a delicious ache that grew with every pump of Tank’s hand.

    Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, a symphony of sweat and desire that seemed to fill the small space. Tank’s hips slammed into Spike with a force that had the smaller man seeing stars, his vision blurring as the pleasure grew too intense. His legs tightened around Tank’s waist, his heels digging into the muscular flesh as he tried to hold on, to keep himself anchored in the face of the impending storm.

    Spike’s cock was a pulsing rod of need in Tank’s firm grip, and with every stroke, he could feel himself inching closer to the edge. His own hand found Tank’s, guiding it faster, harder, his breath hitching with every touch. The big man’s eyes never left his, the intensity in those dark orbs a promise of the release to come. The pressure built, a coil of ecstasy tightening in his stomach, threatening to unravel and consume him whole.

    Tank’s thrusts grew more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he approached his climax. Spike could feel the thick cock inside him swelling, the heat of Tank’s seed building to a crescendo. The anticipation was agonizing, the need for release a living, writhing thing between them. His body tensed, muscles straining as he tried to hold back the inevitable, to make this moment last just a little longer.

    But Tank had other plans. With a final, brutal thrust, he pushed Spike’s cock over the edge, sending spurts of hot cum arcing through the air to land on the floor, the bed, and both their chests. The force of his orgasm ripped a scream from Spike’s throat, a sound that was more animal than human. The room seemed to spin around them as the smaller man’s body was wracked with wave after wave of pleasure, each one more intense than the last.

    Tank’s own orgasm followed closely, his cock pulsing deep within Spike as he emptied himself. The sensation was almost too much, the feeling of being filled to the brim with the big man’s cum a revelation. Spike’s ass clenched around Tank’s shaft, milking every drop as the big man’s body shuddered with the force of his release. The two men lay there for a moment, their breathing the only sound in the room, their bodies a tangled mess of muscle and passion.

    As the aftershocks of their climaxes subsided, Tank leaned down to whisper in Spike’s ear, “You’re mine now. Everyone in The Den will know it.” His voice was thick with lust and possession, a promise that sent a shiver down Spike’s spine. He knew what that meant, knew that he would be claimed in every way possible, both in the ring and out of it. The thought was terrifying, but also thrilling.

    Spike could feel the warmth of Tank’s cum leaking from his ass, the sticky mess a reminder of the power dynamics that had just shifted between them. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper, “Yes, I’m yours.” The words were a declaration, a surrender that was as much a part of the battle as the wrestling match had been. Tank’s grip on his cock loosened, but he didn’t pull out, letting Spike feel every inch of his still semi-hard length.

    Their bodies were slick with sweat and cum, their hearts pounding in unison as they lay there, basking in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. The room was silent except for their heavy breaths and the distant throb of the club’s bass line, a stark contrast to the symphony of sounds they had just created. They were two warriors, victors in a battle of lust and dominance, and the prize was each other.

    Tank rolled off Spike, his cock slipping out with a wet sound that made them both shiver. He lay beside him, one arm thrown over Spike’s chest, his fingers playing idly with a nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through the smaller man’s body. Spike looked up at him, his eyes glazed with desire, his chest heaving with every breath. He knew that this was only the beginning, that Tank had plans for him that went far beyond the walls of this backroom.

    The big man leaned in, his lips capturing Spike’s in a kiss that was gentle in its dominance. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his breath hot against Spike’s skin. “And I’m going to enjoy every inch of you.” Spike’s heart raced at the words, his cock already starting to harden again at the thought of what was to come. He had never felt so alive, so wanted, so … used. And he loved it.

    Tank stood, his body a sculpture of power and desire, the muscles in his back rippling as he turned to grab a towel from a nearby chair. He tossed it to Spike, who took it gratefully, wiping away the mess of cum and sweat that coated his body. The smaller wrestler’s legs felt like jelly, his body still reeling from the intense pleasure that had just been inflicted upon him.

    As Spike cleaned himself, he watched Tank move with a grace that belied his size. The big man’s cock, though semi-soft, was still impressive, and Spike felt a thrill of fear and excitement at the thought of it inside him again. He knew he would be used, claimed in every way imaginable, but there was a part of him that craved it, that reveled in the idea of belonging to such a powerful being.

    “You’re coming home with me,” Tank said, not a suggestion or question, but a statement of fact. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Spike nodded, his eyes never leaving Tank’s as he climbed off the bed, his legs shaky. The thought of being claimed by this beast of a man was intoxicating, a thrill that he hadn’t experienced in his brief time at The Den.

    They made their way back through the club, their bodies still glistening from their encounter. The crowd parted for them, their eyes filled with envy and respect as they passed. Tank’s hand was a warm, heavy presence at the small of Spike’s back, guiding him through the throngs of men, a clear signal to all that he was off-limits. Spike felt a thrill at the possessive touch, his heart racing with excitement.

    As they exited into the cool night air, Spike took a deep breath, his senses assaulted by the smell of the city and the feel of the chilly breeze on his bare skin. The streets of downtown were alive with the sounds of music and laughter, but all he could focus on was the man beside him. Tank’s hand slid down to grip his ass, a silent reminder of their newfound dynamic. Spike leaned into the touch, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down his spine.

    They arrived at Tank’s apartment, a sleek, modern space that was as intimidating as the man himself. The walls were adorned with trophies and photos from his wrestling career, serving as a stark reminder of the power that Tank wielded. The room was filled with the scent of leather and musk, a heady combination that had Spike’s cock twitching to life again.

    Without a word, Tank led Spike into the bedroom, the soft light casting shadows over the king-sized bed that dominated the room. The sheets were a crisp white, a stark contrast to the men’s sweat-slicked bodies. The bed was already rumpled from Tank’s earlier conquests, the scent of sex still lingering in the air. Spike felt a thrill of excitement mingle with fear as he realized he was about to become a part of that history.

    Tank’s hand was firm, guiding Spike to the bed and pushing him down onto his stomach. The smaller wrestler’s body quivered with anticipation, his ass still sore and stretched from their earlier encounter. He knew that Tank had no intention of giving him a reprieve; this was only the beginning. The big man’s hands were on him again, squeezing and kneading his flesh, reasserting his claim.

    Tank grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand, the sound of the cap popping open in the quiet room sending a shiver down Spike’s spine. He felt the cool liquid being spread over his still-sensitive hole, the anticipation making his skin crawl. Then, Tank’s thick fingers were inside him, stretching and preparing him for what was to come. Spike bit his lip, trying not to moan too loudly, not wanting to give Tank the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was enjoying this.

    The bed dipped as Tank climbed on, his weight pressing Spike into the mattress. The head of his cock nudged at Spike’s entrance, a blunt pressure that had the smaller man gasping for air. Tank didn’t hesitate, pushing in slow and deep, filling Spike up inch by inch. The pain was intense, but it was the kind of pain that bled into pleasure, making his toes curl and his cock throb. He could feel every vein, every pulse of the big man’s dick as it claimed him once again.

    The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Tank’s grunts of pleasure echoing off the walls. Spike’s face was buried in the pillow, muffling his own cries as the big man fucked him with a ferocity that seemed to come from a place beyond mere desire. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a promise that Spike was his and his alone. And with every stroke, Spike found himself believing it, his body responding in ways he never thought possible.

    Tank’s hand wrapped around his neck, pulling his head back to expose his throat once more. His teeth scraped along the tender skin, a gentle reminder of the power dynamic that had been established. Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body a canvas of pleasure and pain, as Tank’s cock hit that perfect spot deep inside him, sending shockwaves of sensation through his body. His own erection was trapped between his stomach and the mattress, a constant reminder of his own need and the control that Tank held over him.

    Spike’s hips began to rock back into Tank’s rhythm, his body craving the friction against his prostate. He felt his orgasm building again, a crescendo of sensation that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Tank’s hand found his cock, his grip firm and unyielding, stroking him in time with his deep, powerful thrusts. The smaller wrestler could feel his body tightening, his muscles clenching as he approached the brink once more.

    Tank leaned down, his mouth hot against Spike’s ear. “You’re going to come for me,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You’re going to show me how much you want this.” Spike whimpered, his body responding to the command. He could feel the tension coiling tighter, the need for release becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to engulf him.

    Tank’s strokes grew more insistent, his cock plunging deeper with each thrust. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a primal symphony of passion that seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. Spike’s orgasm was close, so close, and he could feel Tank’s own approaching, the big man’s breaths coming in harsh pants against his neck.

    Spike’s hips bucked wildly, his cock sliding through Tank’s slick grip as he chased his climax. The big man’s hand tightened around his neck, cutting off just enough air to make his head swim. It was a heady mix of fear and pleasure, a cocktail that had him teetering on the edge of oblivion. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the need for release growing more urgent with each passing second.

    Tank’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin of Spike’s ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Come for me, my love,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Spike’s spine. “Let me feel you come all over my cock.” The words were like a spark to dry kindling, igniting the fire that had been building inside him. Spike’s body tensed, his muscles tightening as he reached the peak.

    With a strangled cry, Spike’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, his cock spurting cum onto the bed beneath him. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that he almost forgot to breathe. His ass clamped down around Tank’s cock, the spasms milking him for every drop of pleasure he had to give. The big man’s grunts grew louder, his hips moving faster as he approached his own climax.

    Tank’s hand tightened around Spike’s throat, his grip unyielding as he fucked him through his orgasm. The smaller man’s eyes watered, his vision swimming as the lack of oxygen added a new level of intensity to the sensations coursing through his body. He could feel Tank’s cock swelling, the heat of his seed building as he neared his peak.

    The pressure was too much to bear, and with a final, animalistic roar, Tank emptied himself inside Spike, his sperm spurting deep into his ass. The feeling of being filled so completely was almost too much for Spike, his body wracked with spasms as he tried to process the overwhelming sensations. Tank’s teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder, holding him down as he filled him to the brim, marking him once again with the evidence of his claim.

    The big man’s hips stuttered to a stop, his body trembling with the force of his climax. For a moment, they lay there, connected in the most primal of ways, their breathing the only sound in the room. Spike’s body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain. Tank’s cock remained inside him, still hard and pulsing, a reminder of the power he had just surrendered to.

    Spike felt the weight of Tank’s body pressing him into the mattress, the heavy breaths against his neck a testament to the exertion of their encounter. The room was thick with the scent of sex, their mingled fluids creating a sticky mess between their bodies. He could feel Tank’s heart beating in time with his own, a rhythm that seemed to resonate through the very air.

    Finally, the big man pulled out, his cock leaving Spike’s ass with a wet pop that made them both wince. Spike’s body was a symphony of sensations, each nerve ending singing a different tune of pleasure and pain. He collapsed onto the bed, his limbs feeling like they had been turned to jelly. Tank leaned over him, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

    “You’re mine,” Tank said again, his voice a low rumble. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows it.” He grabbed another towel and began to clean them both off, his movements efficient and possessive. Spike could feel the sticky warmth of cum and sweat being wiped away, leaving his skin clean but his mind reeling.

    The smaller wrestler couldn’t help but look at the mess on the bed, the evidence of their passion stark in the soft light. Tank followed his gaze and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Spike’s spine. “Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll have plenty of time to clean up later.” He tossed the towel aside and climbed onto the bed, pulling Spike into his arms. The smaller man’s body was limp with exhaustion, but the warmth and safety he found there was addictive.

    They lay together in a tangle of limbs, their bodies still slick with sweat and cum. The big man’s embrace was like a steel cage, holding Spike tight and keeping the world at bay. His breathing grew steady and deep as sleep began to claim him, the comfort of Tank’s body lulling him into a state of relaxation he had never felt before. The bed was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, hard floor of the backroom where they had started the night.

    Spike’s eyes grew heavy, the rhythm of Tank’s heartbeat acting like a lullaby. The big man’s strong arms cradled him, one hand resting possessively on his ass, his cock still semi-hard against Spike’s thigh. It was a reminder that their night was far from over, that there would be more passion to come. The smaller wrestler felt a thrill at the thought, his body already beginning to stir with anticipation.

    Their breathing grew synchronized, their chests rising and falling in a harmony that was as intimate as the act they had just shared. The tension of the day’s events, the nerves of their first encounter in the ring, and the intensity of their passionate coupling slowly melted away, leaving them both in a state of contented exhaustion. The world outside the apartment faded away, the only reality the warmth of their entwined bodies.

    The bed was a cocoon of pleasure, the sheets sticky with their combined essences. Spike felt Tank’s heart pound against his back, the steady beat a reassurance of the life and desire that pulsed within the larger man. He could feel the heat of Tank’s cock against his thigh, still thick and demanding even in their moment of reprieve. It was a promise that the night was far from over, that the beast within the man had not yet been fully sated.

    Spike’s mind drifted, his thoughts a jumble of sensations and emotions. He had never felt so claimed, so owned. The idea of being Tank’s plaything, his toy to use and abuse, sent a thrill through him that was as terrifying as it was exciting. Yet, as the big man held him close, his arms a warm, protective barricade, Spike felt a sense of belonging, a feeling he had never truly experienced in the harsh, cutthroat world of wrestling.

    Their breathing grew deeper, their hearts slowing to a gentle rhythm. Spike felt himself being drawn into the welcoming embrace of sleep, lulled by the warmth and comfort of Tank’s body. He let his eyes flutter closed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he succumbed to the gentle tug of Slumberland. In his dreams, he was a warrior claimed by a mighty king, and the battles they would fight together would be those of passion and desire.


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


  • The Cowboy

    I noticed a profile  on a  gay BDSM site that was short with not a lot of detail. The Man in his late 70s just wrote that he had interest in showing subs how pain could help them experience pleasure.

    I was intrigued so I messaged him about more information. It took couple day but he responded that if I would give him control that I would enjoy and learn from him. He said he usually wanted younger bois but he said he could give me a try. I was early 50s but I was very eager to learn.

    We talked on phone twice before we met and he was very soft spoken but confident. He turned out to be almost three hours away but we planned a Sunday meet at Noon. He told me to be nude in coveralls and be clean.

    We meet on a country road which was quite out of the way. When I pulled up he had an old beat up farm truck and as he got out he was your typical cowboy dressed man. He was over 6 ft and a very beefy.

    I said hello Sir and he said let’s get to work so follow me. We drove maybe a mile then turned off on a dirt road for another half mile. We came to a pasture gate and I could see corals with a small building beside them .

    I drove through and he closed the gate behind us. We parked at the corrals and when I got out he said get undressed. I slipped my coveralls off and he saw my cock was hard so he walked over and grabbed my shaft and squeezed.

    You will cum he said after I do. He turned me around and slapped my ass hard and then fingered my hole roughly. He said you better be clean. I nodded and he said stand against the corral. I reached up and grabbed the top rail .

    He spread my legs and had me arch my back. He went to his truck and pulled out a large duffle bag. He walked back and set the bag down beside my feet. As he unzipped the bag I saw some paddles, floggers and something else with tiny prongs.

    He reached in and grabbed a table tennis paddle and slowly spanked my ass. One cheek then the other just hard enough to sting abit. He grabbed a lube bottle and drenched my ass  with oil and fingered me roughly.

    He then inserted the handle of the paddle into my ass slowly but firmly. It wasn’t big but filled me. He stepped back and just stood there sometimes wiggling the paddle as I moaned. He then grabbed something out of the bag which I recognized as a electric cattle prod. It snapped as he smiled and turned me around.

    He then shocked my nipples and cock and balls as he told he to take the pain. It was amazing. His smile grew  wider the more I squealed . He said jerk off and cum on his cock. I started stroking but it was tough with the paddle in my ass.

    He undid his fly and told me to cum On his cock. I was so turned on in no time I shot cum on his jeans and cock. He reached back and pulled the paddle out and forced me to my knees. Clean me he said. I licked my cum off his jeans then sucked his cock.

    He had a huge mushroom head and large slit. His breathing got heavy and in no time he filled my mouth with a huge load of semen. I gagged abit but swallowed tasting his cum with mine.

    The whole session maybe took 30 mins but I was so happy. We talked abit and he said I did good and he wanted me back. After that his profile disappeared and never heard from him again.


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


  • Groomsmen

    This is my imagining of a Men At Play video that I’d love to see.


    Opening shots of a clean, higher-end business-style hotel room with two double beds. A few shots begin with carry-on luggage opened neatly, a garment bag hanging and unzipped to show a navy suit, a close up of polished brown leather dress shoes laid out on the room floor, cufflinks resting on a table. 

    Then alternating shots of a very hot muscular man in the shower, BRAD, probably in his late 20s or early 30s. Cut with another man, JUSTIN, same age and very fit and muscular but less bulked up, already getting dressed, over the calf thin navy dress socked pulled on, a white pressed shirt being pulled over and buttoned. 

    BRAD towels off. 

    JUSTIN stands up and walks to the mirror to tie his tie. His eyes flit up to watch BRAD’s naked body walk out through the mirror reflection. 

    Shot of BRAD pulling out his dress shirt and looking over with some lust at JUSTIN, who’s already turned to the bed to pick up the trousers to put on. He grins and then continues to get dressed, buttoning up his shirt and doing a simple knot in his tie. He bends over and his bare muscle ass is visible beneath the shirt tails as he finds his sheer socks. Half bent over, he slips them on, up to the mid-point of his calves. Closer shots show BRAD putting on sock garters and attaching the clips to the sock fabric, making a careful adjustment. 

    JUSTIN is tucking in his shirt into the trousers and buttoning up. 

    JUSTIN: Bro, you’re not the bride, you know.

    BRAD (looks up): Huh?

    JUSTIN: The garters. You got something borrowed and something blue, too?

    BRAD laughs. 

    BRAD: Jase was really into them, man. I guess I got used to wearing them.

    JUSTIN (looking contrite): Sorry about the breakup, bro. 

    BRAD (shrugs): It is what it is. He wanted this white wedding shit, actually. I wasn’t ready.

    BRAD picks up his own trousers and slips them on. Unlike JUSTIN he’s going commando. As he gets dressed the conversation continues.

    BRAD: How hungover do you think Aaron is today?

    JUSTIN: Probably not bad. Mike had the bartender water down his drinks.

    BRAD (smiling): For real? 

    JUSTIN: Well, you kept buying him shots. The best man’s gotta look out for the groom.

    Both men lace up their shoes and slip on their suit jackets. They each take time in front of the mirror adjusting the lay of the coat. BRAD ties his tie while JUSTIN picks up the cufflinks. 

    JUSTIN: Help me out, bro?

    BRAD turns to his friend and puts in the links. JUSTIN returns the favor. Eye contact gets heavier.

    JUSTIN: Dude, you are not going to a fucking wedding with a four-in-hand.

    BRAD (looks down at his tie): What? I’m lousy at tying ties. Besides, I got used to tying it like this in my prep school days. Easier to slip off quickly.

    JUSTIN (grinning): Probably not the only thing you wanted to slip off quick.

    BRAD (laugh): Dude, I was a late bloomer.

    JUSTIN begins undoing BRAD’s tie, pulling the ends to uneven length. 

    JUSTIN: Yeah?

    BRAD: I was pure virgin when I came out to you guys in the fraternity.

    JUSTIN (pausing): Fuck, I wasn’t your first was I, Brad?

    BRAD (shaking head): No, I had a few experiences under my belt by then.

    JUSTIN: Good. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.

    BRAD: Trust me, I know, bro. 

    JUSTIN (under his breath): Ass.

    JUSTIN reties BRAD’s tie in a half windsor, adjusting the knot just right.

    JUSTIN: There.

    BRAD: Thanks, Justin. 

    BRAD reaches up and adjusts JUSTIN’s knot.

    BRAD: Don’t know about you, but weddings always make me horny.

    JUSTIN (gulps): Damn, Brad. You know I’m dating Hannah.

    BRAD: Dude, that’s not serious, right? You didn’t even bring her as your plus-one.

    JUSTIN (winces): We said this wasn’t gonna happen again.

    BRAD: YOU said it wasn’t gonna happen again. I didn’t say shit.

    JUSTIN: Well…

    BRAD: All right. I’m not gonna be an a-hole. You just look smoking hot in your suit is all, buddy.

    JUSTIN (raking his eyes up and down BRAD’s body): You too, bro.

    They don’t speak for a minute, just take turns feeling up the lapels and fabric of each other’s suit, touching the ties. 

    Then they lean in and kiss. Softly, then harder. Then they start really making out, pawing at each other’s body through their suits. BRAD possessively grips JUSTIN’s suited ass, massaging the buns, while JUSTIN grips the ridge of boner poking out in BRAD’s trousers.

    Finally, BRAD pulls back and unzips, hauling out his big erect cock.

    JUSTIN (just realizing): You go commando?

    BRAD: Best way to get laid at these things… Come on, suck me, bro. Like old times.

    JUSTIN (softly): Yeah.

    JUSTIN crouches down. 

    JUSTIN: Like riding a bike, right?

    BRAD: Something like that.

    JUSTIN proceeds to give BRAD a blow job. Multiple angles. Reaction shots of BRAD as he enjoys his buddies mouth. 

    BRAD: So good, bro…. Ah that’s it, man…. Suck me.

    BRAD finally pulls JUSTIN off and leans down for a kiss. Before JUSTIN can get back up, BRAD undoes his pants and lets them fall to the floor. He turns around and offers his muscle ass to JUSTIN, who pulls apart the buns and dives in. 

    BRAD: This is the Justin I remember. You’re better at this than most gay dudes.

    Close up of Justin, suited and in tie, eating out BRAD. Hands caressing the sheer socks and garters. Reaction shots of BRAD enjoying the rim job.

    BRAD: Bro… there’s lube in my toiletries bag if you wanna…

    JUSTIN (pulling back): Fuck yes.

    JUSTIN stands up and runs his hand along Brad’s suited back. 

    JUSTIN: Fucking perfect fit of a suit, by the way.

    BRAD (grins): I got a great tailor, bro. 

    JUSTIN: Your tailor has an amazing canvas for his work. Your bod puts me to shame.

    BRAD (leaning up): I did the whole himbo thing for Jase. I did a lot of things for Jase.

    JUSTIN pats Brad’s ass. Lust and reassurance. 

    JUSTIN: Sorry, bro. You’ll find the right guy.

    BRAD: I know. Not in a rush. (Looking back) I just need that cock in me now, bro, OK?

    JUSTIN goes to fetch the lube. 

    CUT to shot of the men ready to fuck. BRAD no longer has his trousers on, but still is wearing has sheer socks, garters and dress shoes. JUSTIN is similarly attired.

    Slow entry, then they fuck. Missionary first, BRAD’s legs on JUSTIN’s shoulders. Then BRAD rides JUSTIN’s lap. Lots of suit admiration. The fuck finishes with JUSTIN dicking BRAD from behind. After he cums, close up of the creampie before that big dick pushes back in. 

    BRAD’s turn to cum. 

    In after glow, they kiss and get dressed again. Make themselves presentable once more.

    JUSTIN: Do I look OK?

    BRAD: You look amazing, bro…. you should put the moves on the father of the bride.

    JUSTIN (surprised): Mr. Connelly?

    BRAD (laughs): There’s only one father of the bride, dude. The guy’s a total horndog.

    JUSTIN (incredulous): You did Mr. Connelly.

    BRAD: He’ll ask you to call him Dan.

    JUSTIN: Fuck. 

    BRAD: Maybe you’re not into the daddy thing though. 

    BRAD picks up his pocket square and places it neatly into the suit pocket, taking a look in the mirror as he does so.

    JUSTIN: I’m not even gay, bro. Just…

    BRAD: I know dude. You don’t need to explain, Justin. It’s just guys having fun.

    JUSTIN: Yeah.

    He picks up his own pocket square and does a neater fold than BRAD. 

    JUSTIN: I’m not trying to be a dick, Brad. 

    BRAD: I didn’t say you were, bro.

    JUSTIN: Even if I were gay, you know we’d be lousy as boyfriends, right?

    BRAD: Trust me, I know. The sex would be off the charts hot, though.

    JUSTIN: No argument there. 

    JUSTIN finally puts on the last part of his accessories, a nice watch. 

    JUSTIN: How bout this? If I don’t score with Dan Connelly, we share one of the double beds.

    BRAD: Deal. 

    They grin and give one final kiss before parting. 

    JUSTIN: Let’s do this wedding shit. Be there for Aaron.

    BRAD: I just better see you on the dance floor at the reception, Mr. Wallflower.

    JUSTIN: Stop busting my balls, bro. 

    They walk out of the hotel room and the door shuts behind them.

    TITLE CARD: “TO BE CONTINUED?”


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


  • Blowjobs in a Beach Bar

    “Puerto Rico, you lovely island, island of tropical breezes.”

    The lyrics from West Side Story wafted through Reilly’s mind as he sipped on his daqueri — an actual cocktail, not one of those God-forsaken neon-colored slushies — while sitting at the bar at the open-air beachfront salloon.  That musical is what had made him first entertain the notion of coming to Puerto Rico for his first visit more than 20 years ago.  It had been February and a brutally cold stretch of winter.  The man who would later become his husband had come home.

    “We need to go somewhere warm for a vacation,” Larry had sputtered through frosted lips, shaking fresh snow from his overcoat.

    Since the musical had been on television only a few days before, a particular phrase sprang into Reilly’s mind.  “Nobody knows, in America, Puerto Rico’s in America,” Reilly had recited.  

    Two weeks later, they had gotten off the plane in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and both had fallen in love with the food, the culture, and the people.  They would return regularly together  — both before and after their marriage — to lie on the beach, eat Caribbean seafood, sail around the bay at twilight, and unwind from the world.  While Spanish was the predominant language, almost everyone understood English to some degree or another, and both Reilly and his husband spoke a smattering of the local language.  The islanders seemed to appreciate it when you at least made an effort, even if your syntax and pronunciation were clumsy or childlike.

    “I’m going to buy a house and retire here,” Larry said during each trip.  It all but became a mantra.

    Now it was 27 years after that first visit. This time it was summer, not winter. The twilight sail happened just as it did every time they came to the island, but Reilly used it to scatter his husband’s ashes into the waters off the island to which he had wanted to retire.  

    Death had been sudden, about three months previous.  The worst of the grief was over, but there had been some final wishes to address.  Reilly had spent the last several days going back to places they had visited together.  He had gone to a favorite restaurant in San Juan to have the fish tacos Larry had adored.  He had driven into the mountains to Caguas to sip at the factory for Sangria Los Hermanos.  He had travelled to Ponce to see the Fuente de los Leones one more time.  

    Reilly noticed that his glass was empty and signaled for the bartender.  He fully intended on getting completely shitfaced tonight.   If you can’t get drunk on the day you lay your spouse to rest, when can you?  He had only had one drink so far, but he was sure that the bartender would be happy to arrange more so long as he added a tip from time to time.

    “Hey, mister,” said a lightly-accented voice to his left, “do you want to buy me a drink?”

    While faces may change between visits to the island, the presence of rentboys at gay bars on the beach never did.  Without turning his head, Reilly responded only semi-sarcastically.  “You working?”

    “Working?  Me?” queried the voice.  “I don’t work here, but I’m happy tonight.”

    “And I’m not,” Reilly muttered under his breath.

    “Come on, mister,” insisted the voice.  “I got a letter today with good news.  Be happy with me.”

    Reilly’s ear twitched, and he lifted an eyebrow almost involuntarily.  He had heard most of the pick-up lines that the hustlers used over the years, but this was a new tactic.  Despite his caution and suspicion, he was intrigued to see where that particular track might go.  He had no intention of giving this man any money, but his curiosity was piqued.  “Curiosity killed the cat,” he thought to himself, “and satisfaction brought him back.”

    He turned his head ever so slightly to look at the source of the voice out of the corner of his eye.  He noticed tanned skin, bushy black hair, and a huge beaming smile.  The rentboy’s face was slightly too long to be considered conventionally handsome, and his nose was maybe just a bit too large for his face.  He seemed genuinely joyful, though, as his dark brown eyes flashed in Reilly’s direction.  

    Turning to look at this young man more fully, Reilly got to the point.  “What makes you think I’m looking for company tonight?”

    The younger man cocked his head to the right, quizzically.  “Who said anything about company?  I am happy.  You look like you are not.  I have good feelings to share, and I think you could use them.”

    “Do I?” asked Reilly acidly.

    “Yes,” said the younger man emphatically.  “Besides, all I asked for was a drink to help me celebrate.”  He smirked.  “I didn’t ask you for a blowjob.”

    “Not yet, anyway,” Reilly said under his breath.  Still, maybe it was best to give this guy the drink he wanted so that he could move on to the next potential customer.  Louder, he replied to the young man, “I don’t feel like company, but you can have one drink.”  Reilly beckoned the bartender over again and muttered a drink order.  

    “You look sad,” the youth persisted.  He sidled up to Reilly, “and I am Rafael.  And I am celebrating tonight!”

    “So you said,” responded Reilly, trying to keep mockery out of his voice.  Could this guy be on the level?  A sex worker usually didn’t lay things on this thickly.  They usually looked for easier pickings.

    “¿Como se llama?” asked Rafael.  “What are you called?”

    “Most people don’t call me anything these days.  But you can call me Reilly.”

    “It is good to meet you, Reilly.  Can you get me–”  Rafael’s banter was stopped by the bartender putting a shot glass in front of him.  Layers of brownish liquid were topped with a small swirl of whipped cream.  Rafael looked at it blankly.  “What is this?” 

    Reilly smirked.  “It’s exactly what you did and didn’t want from me at the same time.”  A puzzled look furrowed Rafael’s brow.  Reilly continued.  “You didn’t ask me for a blowjob, but I’m giving you you one, anyway.”

    “¿Una mamada?”

    “Exactly,” said Reilly, suppressing a smirk of his own.  He looked meaningfully at the shot glass.  “This drink is called a blowjob.  No manos para beber.  You don’t use your hands to drink it.  You just open your mouth, take the glass in your lips, and tilt your head back.”

    Rafael looked at Reilly skeptically.  “You want me to look ridiculous.”  This was a statement, not a question.

    “Maybe,” conceded Reilly, “but shouldn’t you act a little crazy if you have something to actually celebrate?”  Reilly was trying to stay sarcastic, but this guy had a quality that was a little disarming.  It was nothing Reilly could put his finger on, but he might have been a little hasty in his appraisal of the young man.

    Rafael looked thoughtful for a moment.  “I will,” he said, “but only if you get a blowjob, too.”

    The corners of Reilly’s mouth quivered briefly.  Maybe he had been right after all.  This was awfully flirtatious — unless Rafael was even more naïve than he let on.  

    “Why not?”  Reilly had intended on getting drunk, anyways.  Nothing said he had to stick to only one drink.  With a gesture and a few words, another shot was placed on the bar in front of Reilly.  Turning to look at Rafael, he lifted the glass in the young man’s direction.  “Salud.”  His shooter was then returned to bar.

    Rafael returned the toast and then put his glass on the bar in front of him, watching what Reilly did with an amused eye.

    With a small shrug, Reilly turned to face the bar.  Gingerly, he positioned his glass directly in front of him close to the near edge. He clasped his hands behind his back and opened his mouth wide.  He lowered his head and took the shot glass firmly in his lips.  He could taste the whipped cream, thick and sweet.  With a quick jerking motion, he popped his head back, with his eyes looking straight up.  The contents of the glass drained immediately into his mouth.  With a single gulp, he swallowed the sweet contents.

    Lowering his head, Reilly took the glass from his mouth.  He flipped it upside down and smacked it noisily on the bar.  In his younger days, he was an expert at this, but it’d been a long time since he took a drink in this manner.  Sometimes old habits die hard.

    Turning to Rafael, Reilly looked him squarely in the eye.  “Your turn.”

    Rafael immediately positioned the shot glass directly in front of him and took a deep breath.  He mimicked Reilly’s motions as best he could.  He was a little awkward, and he was more careful about tilting his head back, but he took the entire drink without touching the glass with anything but his lips.  Removing the glass with his hand, he slammed it onto the table in triumph.

    “Now you can tell all your friends that a stranger gave you a blowjob in a bar on the beach,” Reilly said in a deadpan voice, “after he gave himself one.”

    Rafael burst into raucous laughter.  “That is funny,” he roared.

    “Not THAT funny,” muttered the older man. 

    “But it was!” exclaimed the youth between guffaws.  “And you– drink– and your–!”  The poor fellow couldn’t string three words together at the moment, much less form a coherent sentence.  He held up his hand in the universal gesture to wait as he bowed his head and tried to collect himself until his laughter subsided into giggles.  After a moment, he was able to continue.  “Can I fix something?”

    “O.K.,” said Reilly skeptically.  Why was his permission needed?

    Rafael immediately took the sides of Reilly’s head in his hands and held it still.  Before Reilly could register what was happening, Rafael’s face closed in.  Reilly closed his eyes instinctively, and he could feel the young man’s tongue licking roughly at one side of Reilly’s lips.

    Reilly drew his head back roughly.  “What the hell, man?” he exclaimed.

    Opening his eyes, he saw Rafael looking at him with his tongue sticking out.  Directly on the center was a blob of whipped cream that must have been smeared on Reilly’s lips when he took the shot glass in his mouth.

    Rafael drew his tongue into his mouth, closed his lips, and visibly swallowed.  Breaking into a large grin, he said, “Now I can tell my friends that I took your sweet cream down my throat, too.  After your blowjob.”

    Despite his situation and the circumstances that led him to be at this particular bar at this particular time, Reilly found himself warming a bit to Rafael.  He appreciated someone with a quick wit.  Despite his initial suspicions, he was reasonably sure that this not-quite handsome young man might not be a rentboy after all.  He was flirty as hell, yes — but not on the prowl to offer sex for cash.  Maybe this was just a guy on his own trying to have a good time, and there was no denying that he had a certain charm.  It was hard not to be disarmed.

    Two beers were ordered, and Rafael drank deeply when his was delivered.  When the glass was drained  about half-way, he asked, “Why did you come here tonight looking sad?”

    “It’s been a sad day on a sad vacation,” responded Reilly.  He recited the highlights of his trips to Puerto Rico over the past 27 years and how his husband Larry died unexpectedly before they could come back to the island this time.  “We made plans.  We bought tickets and made reservations.  And then he died.”  Reilly took a deep, steadying breath.  “I couldn’t cancel the trip that he was looking forward to.  In the end, this was to remember him and the times we had on this island.”

    Rafael sat quietly for a long moment.  He swirled his half-finished beer in its glass contemplatively.  Then he rose from his bar stool and stood on the floor.  He lifted his beer glass high with one hand and banged loudly on the bar with the other.  Slowly, the bar quieted.

    Looking directly at Reilly, Rafael said in a loud and clear voice, “A Lorenzo, esposo de Reilly.  Que descanse en paz.  To Larry, husband of Reilly.  Rest in peace.”

    “A Lorenzo,” the bar patrons echoed lowly, each raising their glass in Reilly’s direction.  Quietly, they drank to the memory of a man they did not know and had never met while honoring the one that was left behind.

    Reilly closed his eyes, touched.  He did not cry, but he was moved by the people here and also the consideration of a young man who said he just wanted to be happy that night.  Opening his eyes again, he looked at Rafael in emotional appreciation.  “That was very kind.  Thank you,” Reilly croaked, his voice cracking.

    “If I can’t be kind to someone else when I have good news, what would be the point?” he asked rhetorically.  “Would you like to see my good news?”

    “You brought it with you?”

    “Of course.  I want everyone to know.”  He fished in his back pocket, pulling out a folded envelope.   He removed a letter printed on thick stationary, and he put it on the bar in front of Reilly to read:

    “Dear Mr. Rafael Vega Guzman,

    The College of Liberal and Creative Arts at San Francisco State University wishes to congratulate you on your admission into our graduate program for music performance…”

    Reilly was taken aback.  This guy hadn’t been yanking his chain; he had been on the level the entire time.  “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

    “No!” exclaimed Rafael.  “I tried last year but didn’t get in.  But I got in this year!”

    “Good for you,” said Reilly, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “Well done!”  He paused.  “You know, I actually live across the bay from San Francisco.  It’s only a train ride on public transit away from me.”  It was not a short ride, but it was not impractical.

    “Is that true?”

    “Absolutely.”

    Rafael paused.  “So when I go there to study, maybe we can be friends?  Talk on the phone?  Have lunch?  Things like that?”

    Reilly swallowed a small residual lump in his throat that remained from Rafael’s toast to his husband’s memory.  He wrote down his name and cell phone number on one of the disposable coasters at the bar. “After I gave you a blowjob and you swallowed my cream, the least I could do is buy you a meal and talk to you on the phone.  You have been friendly to me here, and it’s only fair that I try to be friendly to you there, if you want me to.”

    Rafael beamed. “My friend Reilly, you have made me even more happy!” he exclaimed.  He leaned forward and gave the older man an intense — but close-mouthed — kiss.  

    Despite his shock at Rafael’s actions, Reilly realized instantly that this was a gesture of friendly affection and not necessarily sexual attraction.  The youthful enthusiasm and energy were difficult to ignore.  Reilly did not resist, though — out of respect for the reason for his trip — he also made no effort to turn the kiss into something more.  

    The disposal of Larry’s ashes officially closed that part of his life.  Meeting Rafael — and the serendipitous fact that he would be coming to his part of the world to continue his studies — was an odd occurrence, though welcome.  Reilly did not quite dread going home quite as much as he expected to.

    “And now,” said Rafael, “celebrate with me.  There is something we must do.”

    “And what is that?” asked Reilly.

    “We must give each other blowjobs.”  Rafael signaled the bartender as he collapsed into semi-intoxicated giggles.

    “What the hell,” smirked Reilly.  He pulled out a credit card and tapped it on the bar.  “Let’s give a blowjob to everybody here.”  


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


  • A former student

    I was a high school English teacher and left the classroom and entered administration.  I worked my way from Vice Principal and my last twelve years I was the principal of one of the best schools in our districts.  It was a unique opportunity because some of the students I had are now young professionals and from time to time I run into them.   In my early sixties I retired and started to enjoy a new chapter in my life.  I hiked the Appalachian Trail, went white water rafting and loved riding my Gary Fisher mountain bike.  Last fall I took a spill and messed up my knee.  After some therapy, couple of cortisone injections….finally the recommended dread….full knee replacement was the only answer.

    Three days after Thanksgiving I went to the surgery center and had my knee replacement surgery.  With the advances in technology….the procedure was robotic surgery and later that day I was able to go home.  I’m a big man, six foot four inches….240 pounds and always took pride in my body.  Three days later….i attended my first physical therapy session.   After my signed in at the desk I was met by a handsome young man.  The therapist greeted me and said ….good morning Mr. White.  Immediately I recognized the voice and thought….once again…I’m happy to encounter a former young student who is now a successful career path individual.  
       Rusty is very handsome.  Grown into his body….strong, high school football player who played in college. And his appropriate career choice was earning a graduate degree in physical therapy.

    As we moved to his therapy station ….he was so happy to introduce me to his colleagues…hey,  this is my favorite teacher and became the principal at my school….a partner said….sir, please give me the dirt on Russell.

    After an hour session he helped me with my walker and to the lobby as I waited on my ride.  During our session I shared with him my sister was checking on me.  My private life was just that…very private.  Honestly, most people knew my partner Nick was killed in an accident five years ago.  As I got to the sidewalk…Russell placed his strong hand in the center of my back and told me….call me or text me if you need anything.   He put his business card in my sweatpants and helped me in the card.  I first thought….he’s just being kind, professional, and showing respect to me as his former teacher.  Two days later I arrived to therapy.  Russell was wearing a company polo with the name logo over the right pec of his muscular body.  He smelled like saddle wood soap.  He walked beside me…very energetic but protective.  His voice was even…but considerably cautious.  His advice was….be mindful of my steps, footing, etc….falls he would say are the most likely reason to damage the whole healing process.  As I finished my hour….he walked me to my car.  He asked if I still lived on King Street…how do so many people know my story.  He offered to stop by and bring me dinner on his way home.  I declined his offer…but he said…Sir, I’ll see you around 6:15.  The rest of my afternoon was napping in my recliner.  I did a few of my in home exercises Russell had recommended.  
       Right on the money my Ring doorbell alerted me that Russell had arrived.  I had a grocery delivery at the front door and he brought it in and after entering my house….he spotted the kitchen and made himself at home.  He put items away as I sat on the chair at the kitchen island.  He brought dinner and I insisted he stay and share with me.  He picked up baked spaghetti, salad and took charge….plated the food and he was definitely a welcome visitor.  We caught up …talked about his college days…..I didn’t realize he was twenty seven and had been working as a physical therapist for three years.  He got beside me and held on to my elbow and said….lets evaluate your home.  He pointed our a couple of area rugs….he would stop, note they had to be removed….and he said….don’t worry….ill fix it.  Hell….he was so direct, very attentive and very much willing to help.  As we entered the bedroom he was very happy to see I had a sleep number bed….he said he was planning to purchase one soon.  My discarded boxer briefs and track pants were on the side chair…. He took the chair and picked it up and moved it away from the bed to the path to the bathroom.  Again….pointing out what could be a problem.  As we entered the bathroom he whistled….he commented …nice set up sir.  Nick and I gutted the old bathroom and took space from the guest bedroom to design a bathroom that would fit nicely…..I didn’t realize…just how much this remodel would be during my recovery.  As we stood in the bathroom he noticed a picture of me and Nick shirtless at a waterfall in western North Carolina.  He looked at it and said…..you both look very happy.  I squeezed his forearm and told him…..yes, we had some great times together.  
       Russell turned and said….since I’m here…let me help you freshen up.  I said it was necessary…I’ve been washing off in the sink….he chuckled…yes…I can tell….thats why you get getting in this amazing shower.  Hell….why not.  He was professional yet caring.  He knelt before me.  Telling me to rest my hands on his shoulder….he held a towel in front of me as I dropped my sweatpants.  Of course he saw my hairy ass…but he stood at the glass door and told me….I’m not leaving you alone.  After my shower.  He use the towel and assisted me.   Walked me to the bedroom…I told him which drawers to find fresh clothes.  He pulled a fresh pair of red Tommy John’s briefs.  I pulled them up and he adjusted the waistband from behind.  My thick cock and low hanging balls filled out the hammock pouch nicely.  We went back to the great room.  I put on some ACC basketball.  He put things away in the kitchen.  Rolled up two rugs and moved them to the garage.  Before he left he got me a pain pill and a cup of juice.  Once again…advise on moving about my home safely.  I thanked him and told him I would return the favor for dinner in the future.  He gave me a hug and told me….i like caring for people.  But sir….you are not just anyone….ive always admired you and want you to be proud of me.  
       As he relaxed his hug….he held my hand….squeezed it and said.  Pleased text me before you go to bed.  Sure enough…I texted Russell around ten thirty….told him I was in bed…and I asked him….where are my clothes that were on the chair?  He said he put them in the hamper in the bathroom closet.  Fuck….if he opened the bathroom closet then he saw my toy self of butt plugs, cockrings, lube and my penis pump.  Fuck it….he knows I had a partner.  
       Two days later I had a therapy appointment.  On this day I noticed Russell’s tight shirt.  However…I did recognize his nipple was pierced.  Damn…my Russell has a piecing which is one of my favorite things about men that gets my attention.  My time on the exercise bike was spent chatting with him and I didn’t  realize how fast those twelve minutes would fly by. After my time I thanked him for the other night.  He gave me a hug and said….can you do me a favor?  I was intrigued…sure ….when I come by tonight to help you with your shower….can you please wear the thick black cockring I saw on the shelf in your closet.  I looked him swim the eye….my response was ….absolutely!  

    Five hours later…I washed off in my sink basin.   Put on my cockring….and wore gym shorts with no underwear.  Around 6:30 I heard a motorcycle pull in my driveway.  Helll…Russell was wearing a black leather jacket and his boots sounded heavy as he walked on the porch.  As I opened the door….he stepped in and shut the door behind him..    leaned into me and kissed me….his tongue entered my mouth.  Fuckkkkk….this guy is seriously doing this.   I whispered….i have wanted to do this for years.   He dropped his hand to my shorts….cupped my balls and said….thank you sir for wearing that ring.  Hell…..we made our way to the bedroom.   He undressed me.  I positioned myself on the. Bed.   I told him to get naked….but put the jacket back on.  Yes…his nipples are pierced with small stainless steel barbells ….fuck.  
      Russell put his body on top of my chest and I rimmed his man pussy.  Damn…he tasted so good.  He leaned forward and licked my balls.  He licked my leaking cock head.  He was very gentle and very mindful of my knee.  I wanted to fuck him so much…but he insisted we strictly have oral pleasure.  My knee was still healing.

    I had not jacked off in days since my surgery.  He too my deep in his throat.  I encouraged him to cum first.  Hell…to be that young again.  Once he fucked my face and I swallowed his load….he kissed me and we both tasted his cum.

    He winked at me and said….finally…I get to taste Mr. Whites creamy load.  This man was a phenomenal cock sucker.   He nursed on my dick for about ten minutes and he raised up and said…..what do you want.  I told him to go in the bathroom and get the glass dildo and plug my ass while he’s sucked me off.  I swear….i gave him a massive load.  We took a shower together and he dried me off with a towel.  He got me back to bed….laying naked beside each other….he was so tender,  kissing my neck and ear….i played with his pierced nipple.  Told him Nick pieced his for me as a surprise.  Sharing that was one of my biggest turn ons.  He confessed he noticed my first day of therapy my thick crotch…massive balls…and when he saw my cockring collection…that was his cue to proposition Mr. White.

    Two months later….my therapy has ended.  Russell and I still meet up.  The age difference is huge…but he definitely likes the daddy thing.  For what it is….it’s working.  We’ve ran into folks when we have been to the farmers market and he loves visiting local breweries.  Not sure what’s in the cards…..but I’m sure Nick would love seeing me this happy.  Damn…I love rimming my guy and yes…after my knee healed…..he bends over the edge of the sofa and  fuck him while playing with his pieced nipples.  Some days he cums while I fuck him without even touching his cock.  Right now….he’s my motorcycle stud who keeps knocking at my door…..

  • The Acquisition: A Record of Compliance, Pleasure & Ownership

    Breakfast for Two

    © Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

    The kitchen was quiet. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft pad of my bare feet against tile. I moved slowly, not just from soreness, but from a kind of stunned reverence, like I wasn’t entirely back in my own skin yet.

    The eggs came out of the fridge first. Then butter. Bread for toast. I didn’t have to ask how he liked it anymore, I’d watched, learned, filed it away like any good servant does. The pan hissed softly as I dropped the first pat of butter in. The scent filled the space almost immediately: warm, familiar, grounding.

    But my body still felt foreign.

    My ass still ached, not brutally, but undeniably. A dull soreness that flared each time I shifted my stance or reached too far. My hole pulsed with the echo of him—emptied now, but not forgotten. It felt like something had been left behind in me that wasn’t physical. Not just cum. Something more.

    He had taken his pleasure with control and purpose. Not as punishment, not as reward. Just because he could. Because I was there. Because I was his.

    And the worst part—the part that lingered even deeper than the ache—was that I wanted it. Even now, standing here, cracking eggs into a pan, I could feel it: that quiet shameful throb in my cock, still locked in steel, still leaking faintly. The cage rubbed just enough against my skin to remind me what I wasn’t allowed.

    I thought of his voice. The slap across my face. The way he’d looked down at me afterward—stern, yes. Angry. But also sure. Like he knew I would never make the same mistake twice.

    I wouldn’t.

    The toast popped.

    I plated everything with care, his eggs slightly runny, mine scrambled dry. A few slices of bacon on each plate. A glass of water. Coffee poured and already cooling in the mug he preferred.

    He hadn’t said where he wanted to eat, so I laid everything out at the table. Neat. Symmetrical. Waiting.

    Then I knelt beside his chair, hands folded in front of me, and waited.

    The ache between my legs reminded me I’d been used.

    But the warmth in my chest reminded me I hadn’t been discarded.

    I heard him before I saw him, footsteps soft against the hardwood, followed by the gentle squeak of the bathroom door clicking open. The shower had stopped a few minutes earlier, but I hadn’t moved from my position: kneeling beside the table, hands folded neatly in my lap, eyes low. Two plates waited. One chair. One place setting.

    He padded into the kitchen barefoot, a towel slung low around his hips. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends. He said nothing at first. Just took a long look around the room, at the meal, at me.

    Then, casually: “Good.”

    He sat.

    I rose from my kneeling position and moved to retrieve my own plate—not for the table, but for the floor.

    He didn’t stop me.

    I set it gently down beside his chair, then lowered myself into a cross-legged sit, the cold tile a minor shock against my skin. I hesitated for a moment before beginning to eat, not sure if I should wait, or bow, or speak. But Sean didn’t comment. Just watched me once, then resumed eating.

    It wasn’t a ritual yet.

    But maybe it was becoming one.

    Sean dug in with the casual appetite of a man who’d just emptied himself thoroughly. A forkful of eggs. A strip of bacon. A sip of coffee.

    “You cook better when you’re freshly fucked,” he said, not even glancing down.

    We ate in silence for a moment. The food grounded me. Warm. Salty. Familiar. My stomach had been hollow all morning, not just from hunger but from… everything else.

    Sean broke the silence first.

    “So,” he said between bites, “where’d you grow up?”

    I blinked.

    It took me a second to answer—not because I didn’t want to, but because the question was so… ordinary.

    “Toronto,” I said. “North end. My parents still live there. Same house since I was twelve.”

    “Private school kid?”

    “Eventually. Public until high school. Then UCC for the last couple years.”

    He nodded. “Explains the posture.”

    I glanced up at him.

    “I’m serious,” he added. “You carry yourself like someone who was taught to hold a teacup a certain way.”

    I smiled faintly. “And now I carry myself like someone who holds his ankles over his head on command.”

    He snorted, but didn’t disagree.

    “What about you?” I asked, voice soft.

    “Kitchener,” he said. “Grew up in a townhouse with two sisters and a mother who worked nights. Learned early not to wait for anyone to make things happen.”

    “Explains… a lot.”

    That got me another glance, this one more curious than annoyed.

    “You travel much?” he asked.

    “When I can. I spent a summer in Croatia once. Backpacking. Did Barcelona, Nice, a bit of Japan.”

    He nodded. “Europe’s nice. You ever been to Colombia?”

    I shook my head.

    “You’d like it,” he said. “Men there are shameless.”

    The way he said it made my cage tighten.

    “And law school?” I asked.

    “Osgoode. Straight through. No breaks.”

    “Top or bottom of your class?”

    Sean looked down at me then. Really looked.

    “Does it matter?” he asked.

    “No,” I said. “You’re the one who graduated with a slave.”

    That made him laugh. Not a big one, but real.

    He set his fork down and sipped his coffee, looking pleased with himself—and maybe with me.

    “I like this,” he said.

    “What?”

    “You. Quiet. Fed. Naked. Obedient.”

    “You’ve had that before.”

    He looked down at me for a long moment, long enough that I almost regretted asking.

    Then, casually, almost like he was still talking about breakfast, he said,
    “Never with a boy who actually intrigues me. Someone who makes me hard again just after I’ve fucked them… just from kneeling by my feet.”

    He gestured lazily toward his lap. The towel had slipped slightly, and the bulge forming beneath it was unmistakable.

    I swallowed.

    Whatever hunger he’d fed that morning, it wasn’t gone.

    It had just evolved.

    Sean set down his fork with the ease of someone who knew he wouldn’t be cleaning up after himself. He stretched once in his chair—arms up, spine long—then pushed his plate an inch forward like the movement alone completed the meal.

    “Clear the table,” he said, reaching for his coffee again. “And don’t drop anything. That would ruin your streak of near-perfection this morning.”

    I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile as I rose.

    “Yes, Master,” I said quietly, stacking our plates and carrying them to the sink.

    I rinsed everything quickly, wiped the counter, then turned back to find him already walking toward the living room. The towel still hung low around his waist. Somehow that made the pace of his retreat feel even more casual, like he didn’t need clothes to own the space. Or me.

    He dropped onto the couch without ceremony, legs spread, back deep into the cushions. He looked completely at ease.

    “Here,” he said, patting the floor between his feet. “I’m feeling indulgent. You can have a front row seat to my lounging.”

    I lowered myself without question, crossing my legs in front of him. The position wasn’t uncomfortable, yet, but I could already feel the dull weight of anticipation behind it.

    He took a long sip of coffee, eyes on the window now, where sunlight stretched across the hardwood.

    “God, I love a Sunday,” he said. “You get to fuck your slave, eat like a king, and watch the neighbors take their yappy little dogs out in socks.”

    I let out a small laugh before I caught myself.

    “Was that a joke?” I asked.

    “It was an observation. You can decide whether to laugh, be disturbed, or weep for humanity.”

    He glanced down at me then, smirking.

    “Or all three.”

    I smiled again, softer this time.

    He didn’t return it, at least not fully. But something in his gaze settled, just a notch. A flicker of quiet satisfaction.

    “So,” he said, “besides law school and a tight ass, what else should I know about you?”

    I shrugged. “I like to travel. I hate olives. I have a dog named Charlie.”

    Sean raised an eyebrow. “You had a dog named Lucky. Present tense implies autonomy.”

    “Fair point.”

    “What kind of dog?”

    “Weimaraner. He’s with my ex for the weekend.”

    “Your ex let you keep visitation rights?”

    “I insisted. He’s my dog. I just travel too much to keep him full-time.”

    Sean nodded, leaning his head back against the couch. “My ex once tried to keep my espresso machine in the breakup. Claimed ‘emotional attachment.’”

    I blinked. “Did you let him?”

    “Hell no. I had receipts. And a caffeine addiction.”

    That made me laugh again.

    He looked down at me—almost approvingly.

    “I don’t mind the talking,” he said after a beat. “You speak well when you’re not begging.”

    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Don’t. It’ll go to your head.”

    His voice was dry, but the warmth had settled in. The kind of warmth that didn’t need to touch you to be felt.

    I stayed at his feet, quiet for a moment, letting the tension fade just enough to forget I was naked and caged and still leaking the memory of his cock. For now, this was just a man and another man—talking.

    But I knew better than to believe it would stay that way.

    Sean drained the last of his coffee and set the mug on the side table without looking. He didn’t move otherwise, still slouched on the couch like a man who didn’t need posture to command authority.

    I remained at his feet, cross-legged, upright. I didn’t know how else to sit around him anymore.

    “So,” he said after a quiet moment. “You’ve mentioned an ex. How many serious ones?”

    I paused. “A few. My first was the longest—five years, in my twenties. We met in undergrad. Moved in together after school. Broke up when life caught up.”

    Sean nodded slightly. “And the others?”

    “Shorter. A year here. Nine months there. Nothing that stuck.”

    His gaze didn’t shift. “Any of them Doms?”

    I shook my head. “Some. A few that were a little rough around the edges, sure, but nothing… structured.”

    He smirked. “So no one ever told you when to kneel.”

    “Not seriously.”

    “And no one ever caged you.”

    “God, no.”

    “You’re a late bloomer,” he said, with something like amusement in his tone. “But I do like a challenge.”

    His eyes dropped to my cage. I shifted slightly, the metal pulling against me just enough to remind me of its presence.

    “You always bottom before me?”

    “Exclusively,” I said, meeting his eyes.

    His smile widened, sharp, almost pleased in a way I hadn’t seen before. Like I’d just confirmed something he suspected but wanted to hear out loud.

    “Good,” he said, voice curling with delight. “Makes everything I do to you feel that much more appropriate.”

    “What’s the biggest cock you ever took before mine?”

    The question came with no warning, and no change in tone. Just another item in his personal inventory of me.

    “Seven and a half,” I said after a beat. “Maybe eight. Thick. Not long.”

    He leaned back again, draping his arm across the back of the couch. His towel shifted lower, but he didn’t adjust it.

    He didn’t have to.

    “Do you like this, Blake?” he asked.

    I didn’t hesitate.

    “Yes, Master.”

    Sean didn’t shift in his seat, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even look particularly worked up, but something in the room had changed. The atmosphere wasn’t conversational anymore. It had sharpened. Quieted. Like the moment right before a judge delivers a sentence.

    “Now that we’ve cleared the biographical fluff,” he said, “we’re going to discuss expectations.”

    I stayed still at his feet, heart picking up just slightly.

    “This isn’t just some dirty weekend,” he said. “And it’s not a trial run. If you’re kneeling here, in my home, naked and caged, you’re going to follow rules. Mine. Exactly.”

    He let that sit a moment. His voice wasn’t angry, it was controlled. But it had weight. Finality.

    “You don’t wear clothes in my condo unless I tell you to. Not because it’s about comfort, but because your body is mine to see and use when I want. I can’t do that if it’s covered.”

    I nodded once.

    His eyes locked onto mine.

    “You’ll answer me out loud.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    “You speak when spoken to. You ask permission to speak if we’re not already in conversation. That includes in the morning. That includes when you wake up locked in a cage. No exceptions.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    “Your tone stays respectful. Always. And when you’re in this space, you call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’—not Sean, not ‘babe,’ not some cheeky nickname.”

    I swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

    His gaze flicked to my shoulders, then lower, sweeping down my frame like he was assessing inventory.

    “You will remain clean. Hair, teeth, hole, skin. You will maintain yourself like a kept object, because that’s what you are here. If I find sweat, dirt, stubble, or anything that doesn’t meet my standard, you’ll be corrected.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    “You do not cum without permission. You do not beg to cum unless explicitly told you may. I don’t care if you’re locked or free—your orgasm belongs to me. You understand?”

    “Yes, Master.”

    “You obey first. Then you think.”

    The words landed with a thud. Not cruel. Not rushed. Just matter-of-fact.

    “You don’t delay. You don’t second-guess. If I want you on the floor, you’re there. If I want your mouth open, it opens. If I tell you to hold still, you don’t flinch. You learn quickly. Or you’ll be corrected.”

    “Yes, Master.”

    He leaned forward slightly now, elbows resting on his knees, hands loose between them. His voice stayed low, deliberate.

    “I could get this from a hookup,” he said. “I have.”

    His gaze tightened.

    “But I want more from you. I want consistency. I want to train you to be mine.”

    I felt that last word deep in my stomach.

    “Because if I’m going to train you—truly break you in—I need to know you can follow orders even when you’re tired, sore, humiliated, aching for release. Especially then.”

    He sat back again.

    “This isn’t playtime, Blake. It’s ownership. And I need to know you’re capable of being owned.”

    He stopped speaking, but the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was loaded. Balanced on the edge of something irreversible.

    I sat at his feet, unmoving. Not because I feared the consequences of movement, but because I understood them now. More clearly than I ever had.

    These weren’t arbitrary rules. They weren’t dirty talk disguised as instruction. They were requirements. They were boundaries with consequences, expectations rooted in desire—not just his desire to dominate, but to dominate well. Intentionally. With precision.

    And maybe, just maybe, something more.

    This wasn’t a hug goodbye. It wasn’t a safe zone. It wasn’t fair.

    And yet… I didn’t want fair.

    My cock was still locked, the ache dulled now into a low throb I could almost ignore. But the ache in my chest was something else. A pulse of fear and craving, tangled together. I wanted to be good. I wanted to impress him. Not just for praise, ut for proximity. For belonging.

    I thought about the list. The tone. The words: ownership, obedience, correction.

    I wasn’t a natural submissive. I hadn’t been raised to serve. I didn’t spend my twenties getting off on the idea of someone else making my choices. But somewhere along the line, the veneer of control had cracked. And Sean—without asking—had found the fracture.

    He hadn’t just stepped through it.

    He’d built himself a throne on the other side.

    And now here I was. Kneeling. Listening. Wanting more.

    Not because he’d forced me to.

    But because he hadn’t needed to.

    Sean said nothing for a long time.

    Just stared at me.

    Then: “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

    His voice didn’t rise. Didn’t change.

    But the command landed like a strike.

    My mouth opened and nothing came out at first. Not because I didn’t have thoughts. I had too many. They clawed at the back of my throat, tangled and aching, and I didn’t know which ones were safe to say.

    But he hadn’t asked for safe.

    He hadn’t asked for polite or measured or filtered.

    He’d asked for everything.

    “I’m thinking,” I began quietly, “that I crave you.”

    His head tilted slightly. No expression.

    “I crave being here. On the floor. At your feet. I crave your approval, your attention, your… control. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

    Still no response.

    My throat tightened.

    “You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever been with. Not just physically—though God knows you’re… perfect. But everything about you. Your voice. The way you look at me like you already know what I’ll say. The way you use me like it’s your right. That gets to me. More than I ever thought it would.”

    The shame hit me halfway through the next breath.

    But I didn’t stop.

    “I think about your cock inside me when you’re not even in the room. I think about being locked up for you, degraded by you. I think about how I’d do anything to be good enough for you to keep using me like this.”

    He blinked, but gave nothing away.

    “I want you to own me,” I whispered. “To take away my choices. To tell me who I am. Because when you do, I feel more myself than I ever have.”

    I dropped my gaze then, unable to hold his.

    “I know I probably sound insane. Or pathetic. I’ve never said any of this to anyone. I don’t even know what this is. But whatever it is… I want more of it.”

    My cheeks burned. I could feel the flush climb my neck, hot and obvious. A pulse beat in my throat—too fast. Too exposed.

    Silence.

    And then, slowly, Sean reached out.

    He didn’t speak.

    He didn’t shift his posture or adjust his expression.

    He just patted my head once—firmly. Deliberately. Like I was a dog who had done something worth acknowledging but not worth praise.

    I closed my eyes.

    And let the humiliation settle in my bones.

    Sean hadn’t moved since patting my head.

    He let the moment hang—let my confession linger in the air like smoke—and then, as if plucking the next string just to hear how I’d hum, he asked:

    “How do you feel about public exposure?”

    My head snapped up before I could stop it.

    I froze, pulse thudding. “I… hate it.”

    Sean’s brow lifted, mildly curious. “Hate?”

    “Yes, Master.” I swallowed. “The idea of someone seeing me like this—nude, caged—it makes my stomach twist.”

    He nodded, almost thoughtfully.

    “Good.”

    Then he gestured with two fingers, slow and deliberate, toward the wall of windows across the living room. They stretched from floor to ceiling—clean, sunlit, facing directly into a glass-wrapped condo building across the narrow courtyard.

    “Go stand in front of the glass,” he said. “Let them see what kind of boy you are.”

    My heart stopped. “Master—”

    He didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even look angry.

    He just waited.

    I stood on shaky legs.

    Each step toward the window felt like I was walking toward a cliff—except I wasn’t afraid of falling.

    I was afraid of being seen.

    There was no curtain, no tint, no cover. Just glass and sky and the possibility that someone—anyone—might glance out from their kitchen, their couch, their workspace, and see me standing there.

    Naked.

    Caged.

    Owned.

    I stepped up to the glass and stopped. I didn’t press against it. I didn’t pose. I just stood there, breathing hard, staring out across the way at a building full of strangers who probably weren’t looking—

    But might be.

    Sean didn’t say anything. Didn’t get up. He watched me from the couch like a wreck on the side of the road.

    After ten seconds—twenty—he spoke again.

    “That’s enough.”

    I turned and walked back toward him. My chest felt tight. My limbs jittered from something I couldn’t name. Not fear. Not quite shame.

    But close.

    I dropped to my knees in front of him again, eyes low, throat dry.

    He didn’t touch me this time. Didn’t pat me or speak.

    But I felt his satisfaction —maybe even affection — like heat against my skin.

    He’d wanted to see if I’d crack.

    And I hadn’t.

    I stayed kneeling in front of him, breath still uneven from the test. My pulse hadn’t settled. Neither had the heat on my skin.

    Sean took another long look at me. Then, finally, he spoke.

    “You did well.”

    It wasn’t praise. Not the way most people give it. It was more like a formal acknowledgment. Like passing a bar.

    Then his voice flattened again, into the tone I was starting to recognize as instructional.

    “That was a small thing,” he said. “A controlled test. But your reaction told me what I needed to know.”

    I didn’t ask what that was.

    He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees again. Not menacing. Just… focused.

    “I want to be clear about what you’re agreeing to. Because this thing between us, it won’t always be comfortable for you.”

    I stayed quiet. Still.

    “You’re my slave. That means I’ll instruct you. Use you. Humiliate you. Sometimes for my pleasure. Sometimes to train you. Sometimes just because I feel like it. And you will submit.”

    My throat tightened.

    “I’ll test you,” he continued. “Regularly. In ways you won’t enjoy. I don’t care if you enjoy them. That’s not the point. The point is obedience. Adaptation. Growth.”

    He let that sit for a moment.

    “But I’m not insane,” he added, almost casually. “I’m not going to do anything illegal, or anything that could fuck up your career. I don’t get off on recklessness.”

    His gaze returned to mine.

    “But I do have kinks. A lot of them. And I expect you to meet me there.”

    “I understand,” I said quietly.

    He didn’t blink. “Do you?”

    I swallowed.

    “I think so, Master.”

    He sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ll learn the rest as we go.”

    It wasn’t a warning.

    It was a promise.

    The conversation continued.

    Not in sharp commands or painful tests, but in quiet disclosures. Details, history, the raw material of real lives.

    Sean told me about his first boyfriend. About being sixteen and already certain he would never bottom for anyone. About law school exams and a drunken New Year’s in Bogotá that ended with him being carried out of a salsa bar with one shoe.

    I told him about my mother’s basil obsession. About the first time I kissed a boy, behind the science building in grade eleven. About London, and long walks, and how I used to think I wanted to marry someone mild.

    We didn’t laugh much. But there were smirks. The occasional exhale of amusement. And one moment where his knee brushed mine, not by accident, and he didn’t move it.

    As it approached noon, the light shifting higher through the windows, he finally stood.

    “Get dressed,” he said. “You’re going.”

    The words weren’t warm or cold. Just matter-of-fact. A conclusion.

    I obeyed slowly, almost reverently, dressing in silence—feeling the texture of cotton and denim in a way I hadn’t two days ago. My skin still felt warm from where his hands had been. My hole still sore, used. My jaw, my knees, my pride—softened, but not broken.

    When I was clothed again, I stood in the entryway, unsure if I should speak.

    He didn’t kiss me goodbye.

    Didn’t hug.

    He just looked at me and said, “We’ll talk soon.”

    And I believed him.

    The door clicked shut behind me.

    I made my way down the hallway, out of the building, and into the cool air of late morning. The city felt different. Like I was stepping into it from far away. Like I’d just returned from something sacred. Or dangerous.

    Or both.

    I didn’t know where we were going.

    But I knew what I wanted:

    To kneel again.

    To serve again.

    To feel that hand on the back of my neck.

    Whatever had started this weekend—it wasn’t done.

    Not even close.


    Follow me on X: @BBGayErotica or on Bluesky: bbgayerotica.bsky.social for more kinky fun!
    You can also follow me on Instagram now to see some of the boys in my stories: instagram.com/brokenboundariesgayerotica/


    If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.

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