Author: admin

  • Training Billy

    Chapter 2 – THE COACHING.

    I knew now I had a great responsibility but now I knew Billy’s hidden desires for me, I had to make him absolutely free to utter whatever feeling he had in the future.

    -Billy, look at me. We are an unconventional father and his son. I really like you, my son, and your happiness is the only thing I care about in life. I want you comfortable. I’m not sure a father and a son can be real friends, but I want that to happen and become your best friend, so after now you can tell me all your feelings, even your lust for me, and I want to make you comfortable, absolutely comfortable with your father. So first, I want to ask you: what sex have you had so far? You can answer me, Billy. I will get angry at nothing.

    -I know you are open-minded enough, daddy. But oh how lucky I am to have you. You have not got mad at me knowing what you know now.

    -And I never will, so please tell me.

    -I am a virgin in everything so far, dad. Never been fucked, never blown anybody, no sex, except of course jacking off, mostly over William, but sometimes over some other hot guys, over guys I often see in porn movies… oh, I never thought I could tell you that I often watch porn.

    -Feel free to tell me anything, Billy, and of course you watch porn, as anyone your age.

    -And when I don’t wank over William or other boys, I do about you, dad, I cannot help it.

    -Not only you can do it, but you can also tell me whenever you do. So, first question, and be sincere, please, Billy, as you have always been: do you want me to have a shower?

    -Dad, I will have boners with your smell inevitably now. But if you really don’t mind seeing your own son hard at you, I’d rather you keep your wonderful smell for longer.

    Then I approached Billy and did something that would be a constant in the future. It was a sign that nothing really mattered. I was proud of the son I have and wanted to give him complete tranquility. So I treacherously kissed his lips, something he was far from expecting. He tried to resist but I went on kissing him.

    -Don’t do that, dad, please, you are not gay.

    -I don’t give a damn about not being gay. First you have to understand that your feelings, which you thought would be a problem for me, are not a problem at all. You are intelligent, really intelligent, you are tender, generous, affectionate with people, you really know how to behave in difficult situations, and you are courageous, really courageous. I cannot love you more, Billy, and this kiss is a blessing so you know daddy loves you and I tell you now that I will be constantly kissing you, understood?

    -Oh, my God –he said with real tears in his eyes-, what have I done to have the best of fathers? I don’t deserve someone like you. Not only you don’t get shocked at my lust for you, but you kiss me, dad.

    -Kiss me again, Billy, I like the moisture in your lips.

    And we did have now a long thorough kiss. I was blessing him and meanwhile the first time I kissed a boy was wonderful and I was glad it was my beloved son that I was kissing, turning him into my friend.

    -I am moved, Brian. I could never expect Billy’s father was such a hot man. But thanks a lot. Your son really deserves you.

    -Thanks, William, I want to continue telling you all this since I see you don’t get shocked and I would even want to ask you something when I finish. I like seeing you so hard now.

    -I’m about to cream my pants again, but now, I’m sorry to say, it would be looking at you, Brian. Oh, forgive me.

    -You also lust for me, William?

    -I really do, Brian. I cannot help it.

    -We do not know each other well yet, but if after a while you wanna take out your dick and wank in my presence, you could do it.

    Then I saw William stained his pants again with a wide liquid. He was not expecting that. But at last he was brave and told me.

    -It is you who should decide, Brian. But we are absolutely unknown people and it would be shocking if I did, but I tell you that if you don’t stop the conversation now, I will really whip my dick out and masturbate here.

    -Do it –and at last I saw him take his long dick out and timidly at first he continued his masturbation as he heard me.

    -Good, William, you can be like that the rest of the time we are talking today. I only ask you the same I asked Billy. Please never fall in love with me, cause I want you to always love my son.

    -You’re a hot man, William, but it is impossible I can ever stop loving him.

    -Good, can I resume my conversation now?

    -You can –he said ferociously beating his meat.

    I addressed Billy again.

    -Have you imagined yourself fucking?

    -I have only imagined myself being fucked, dad. I am a masochist and of course I should be bottom.

    -I think, Billy, that being a masochist has nothing to do with being bottom. You can also be top. Do not reject any pleasure till you know them. And so far I would also recommend you to jerk off thinking you are fucking somebody, even imagine you are fucking me and tell me later what you have felt.

    -I will wank imagining I am fucking, dad. But of course I will never picture myself fucking you. Not that. You are not even gay, dad.

    -Well, and now, Billy, I want to do something more. You must first feel absolutely comfortable with me to tell me about anything. And remember I have kissed you. Who knows? One day I could go further in incest with my dear son.

    -No, please dad, not that. I don’t need it and you will feel crushed if you ever had sex with your own son.

    -Well, I’m not telling you now that we will have sex. But remember I am not your master and never want to be. So, what I will never do is beat you or something like that. But let me ask you: if one day you have a master, what do you think it will be the first thing he asks you to do?

    -Don’t know, dad: giving him a blowjob?

    -Maybe, I’ve never been a master and I cannot know but I imagine he would really like to see how you desire him, to feel your lust. Can you imagine yourself without your clothes showing your master how you desire him?

    -I think you can be right, dad.

    -I want to make you more comfortable than you are now. It’s the first day you are talking with your father about incest and about your real needs to be a slave. Taking into account that I don’t want to be your master, I can at least suggest you something, for in this house you can feel as free as you want, and after now you can be naked whenever you want. We live in an eighth floor, with no buildings opposite, so even if the windows were not closed, nobody could see us. So would you like to take off your clothes?

    -Dad, being naked at home would be a dream, but I wouldn’t do it out of respect for you. How would you feel, dad, for God’s sake, if you saw my boner, and knowing I have this boner because of you?

    -I would feel perfect Billy. I would not be shocked seeing my son’s nudity or his boner and this could only be the first time. After now you can always be naked. But something more: remember I also want to train you to be a good slave and I will remind you a man you lust for would like to see your desire. Well, Billy, I want you this relaxed. After now you don’t even have to go to the toilet to wank over me. You can do it in my presence, looking at me whenever you want. So I know this is a little difficult to understand: I want you to show somebody you lust for how you desire him, and at the same time I am not your master nor I want to be. But I can suggest you. You will be blushing the first day, of course, but it can soon be habitual. I suggest you to comfortably strip of everything and jack off here, looking at me. I want you at the same time to show me your lust, to say aloud all you are feeling; I would not get shocked at anything, but I am one of the men you lust for and you can show me your desire. And at the same time think you are wanking over William or any other boy you like. Could you do that, Billy?

    -Daddy, I still can’t believe how hot you are. I’m afraid I will desire you more after now. Ok, I’ll do it, dad. I cannot help but blush and at the same time be totally hard. But ok, I will try, but any moment you feel embarrassed, ask me please to stop and even get dressed again.

    -I will not ask you that. First kiss me again, Billy. Then you can strip.

    And I kissed Billy again for a long time with a lot of affection.

    I saw William was cumming now. I could see semen dripping all over the floor and I asked him to continue if he wanted.

    -Be calm and masturbate all you want, William.

    -Thanks, Brian. Don’t worry, I will never stop loving your son, but let me repeat how hot you are.

    -Good, I’ll continue. Well, my son is brave, really brave and even if he was totally red he showed me his courage again stripping completely before his father. When he took off his T-shirt, I felt I should tell him the truth: well, I’m not gay but I could admit that he has a body that won’t quit and I told him so. He thanked me and took off his shoes, socks and jeans. I could see then he was totally hard and his dick was protruding. I encouraged him to pull down his briefs and he plucked up courage and did it. He was red, knowing he was hard as a rock and I told him.

    -Very good, Billy. Always have your head held high and remember how attractive you are. Any guy would desire to fuck with you and you needn’t be bottom because you are a masochist. And believe me, my dear son, I’m not embarrassed but overjoyed seeing your erection. Now please sit down and lose all your inhibitions and wank over me and tell me whatever comes to your mind. Try to make me hard.

    He did sit and timidly and blushing he started to jack off. I insisted that of course he would feel shy today since it was the first time but he could do this after now every day as many times as he desired. I encouraged him to speak aloud too and tell me what he was feeling.

    -Thank you, dad. Oh, my God, even if I’m blushing, I’ve never been this horny before. I knew you were cute, dad, but now I’m looking at your face and think what a handsome boy my father is. And those eyes and that stubble… all that masculine look. I would like to move my tongue one day over those ears you have, that forehead, that sexy nose, even inside your nostrils, those cheeks, everything in your face, dad.

    -Good, Billy, go on. I am sure you would drive any master crazy when hearing you. I asked you to make me hard and indeed I am getting hard.

    -You have a hot body everywhere, but I’m about to burst just sniffing you. The smell of your pits is heaven and I would love to have my tongue savouring such a hot and perfumed man. I am imagining how you would look under your clothes. I’m sure you have a perfect chest and tasty nipples. And I look down to your crotch and I’m starting to see you hard. Oh, how I would like to have that cock in my mouth, or even have it up my ass. Sorry if I’ve gone too far.

    -You can go as far as you desire, Billy. Remember I told you to feel free to say anything you want. But I will talk to you now. You can keep on wanking; no need to stop. Billy, listen to me: fucking is heaven. I have never fucked anybody up the ass, not even a girl, but I’m sure fucking an ass is wonderful. So I would certainly enjoy fucking a hot guy as you, who also would desire that chance, and have a lot of fun as I do it. But think about this, please: where does that leave me? To touch heaven taking advantage of my son’s incestuous desires and make you bottom. I don’t want you bottom. And the same I could say about blowjobs. You could suck my cock and I would be totally satisfied, moaning with utter pleasure. But remember this for the future, Billy. Of course when you wank over me in my presence, you can continuously talk about my cock in your mouth or in your ass, but that would never happen, unless…

    -Unless…?

    -Unless you fuck me first, or I give you a blowjob first. If I suck your cock, you can suck mine, etc.

    -I understand, dad. But it would be so easy for me to give you that pleasure and you would never have to do anything gay or incestuous.

    -But it would never happen, Billy, unless you dare one day to fuck daddy or to let him blow you.

    -Then I will never think of blowjobs or fucking between us, dad.

    -Ok, you can go on.

    -I cannot hold it any longer, dad. I would have liked to continue imagining what your feet would be like and remembering the scarce times you have sat somewhere without your shoes, and oh what a good smell. But I have to cum, dad; permission to cum?

    -Remember, Billy, you are not my slave. Be free to always cum whenever you like.

    -Then I will cum.

    And that was the first day I could see Billy’s semen. I was proud of having allowed my son to have that pleasure, wanking over daddy as he was watching me but at the same time I was concerned how he was feeling and asked him.

    -I have never been redder, dad. But what you have allowed me to do is heaven and I must thank you.

    -Good, so feel ready to do it over and over again, whenever you wish. You needn’t go to the toilet. This will be now our private routine. Do you want to go on naked?

    -I certainly would, dad.

    -You can be naked all day, Billy. What would you do now: will you go to your room?

    -I have to study something.

    He was then on holidays nevertheless and in October he would start University with you, but I added.

    -Never neglect your studies, Billy. But as I can feel how horny you are now, you can spend the afternoon watching porn or remembering what has happened here and jacking off again. And you may come butt naked to dinner. And as I can see you would really like to see me naked, I will give you a surprise. Your father will dine with you without his clothes too so you can see his entire body. Now, kiss me, Billy, before you go to your room.

    And we kissed again. He was getting used to my kisses and no longer protested.

    -Remember I love you, Billy. Now you can go to your room.

    He went to his room then leaving his clothes there in the living room where we were. He returned three hours later naked to the kitchen where we would have dinner first. The moment he saw my naked body, he told me, already jacking off that he needed to cum one more time even before he sat down to eat with me and then he would jack off again. And soon I saw his cum falling to the floor and I told him to approach and kissed him again.

    -Billy, I remember now I had no chance of seeing your ass before. Would you turn so I can see it?

    And he did turn and asked me.

    -Do you think I have an ass a guy would like to fuck, dad?

    -Any guy who likes fucking up the ass would be horny at the vision of that wonderful ass you have. Ok, turn again and watch your father’s body all you want.

    And now I let him watch me totally nude and semi-hard and I turned so he could glimpse my ass too and I also asked him it was a fuckable ass.

    -It’s gorgeous, dad, but I will never fuck you. But I would like something different with that ass. I would also like to eat your shit –he said blushing again.

    -I could imagine it, Billy. Never blush with me, please. But I say the same. If ever you let me taste your crap first, you can taste mine later.

    -Oh, dad, why do you have to be so strict with what it is clearly justice for you?

    -It has to be like that, Billy. One day you will understand me. But now let us eat before jacking off again, ok? You must also be well-nourished.

    We sat to eat and then I surprised my son touching his naked body.

    -You don’t have to do that, please.

    -After now, I will also touch you –and then I started stroking his balls and soon stroked his cock.

    -You don’t have to touch my cock, dad, you are not gay.

    -I will do it and believe me I am having fun. But I have done it so you can touch everything of me if you want.

    And of course Billy started to touch me. He touched everything and did not let a single part of my body untouched. Thus we were for a long while as we finished our dinner and then I asked him if he wanted to jack off again.

    -Of course dad. I’m blushing but less than at lunch. I think I am getting used to wanking before you.

    He was for two minutes jacking off with a clear face of pleasure still moved that his father was allowing him. But I had another surprise for Billy.

    -Would you like to see your father jerking off too as you are masturbating as well?

    -Dad, to see you jacking off would be a dream. You can think of any hot chick you’ve ever been with and have that fun.

    -I won’t think of any hot chick. Why do that when I have a hot body in front of me? I will wank over you, Billy.

    He never stopped his hand on his cock but was frightened.

    -I’m the incestuous one, dad. You don’t have to be. You will feel awful later.

    -I won’t. You made me real hard at lunch and you have a perfect body to wank over too. I don’t give a damn if I’m experiencing some gay desires. So I will wank over you too.

    And I continued. He wanked looking at me and I wanked looking at him and at the same time praising my son’s beautiful naked body, from every feature of his face to his chest, arms, legs, feet till I finally stood looking at his crotch and praising his cock at the time I was stroking his balls again and I also talked about his ass that I had glimpsed before. He could not help but cum then and finally he saw his father for the first time shooting a big load and yelling with utter pleasure. I said to him.

    -This intimacy that you’ve seen today will continue. After today we will always have a moment to wank looking at each other and we will constantly touch and constantly kiss. And ok, as I know what you are feeling now still thinking you are bottom and wanting to be bottom with me as well. We will do this: we will have all our meals comfortably naked together and we will touch, but you can wank over me at every lunch, only you jacking off then; and at dinner both of us will be wanking looking at each other.

    -Ok, dad, since I can see that so far you are feeling ok. But no need to go further.

    This situation was prolonged for a month till I mustered courage for something else. His time of beginning University was only two weeks ahead now, so this was the perfect time to do something I wanted to do. At dinner, both naked again he started soon beating off and I did the same. But I took a deep breath and treacherously grabbed my son’s dick and started jacking him off.

    -Not that, dad please –he was totally red but I had to talk to him in earnest now and I never stopped jacking him off.

    -Billy, listen to daddy’s words carefully now, please. You know we have been wanking in each other’s presence for a long time. We are naked, we touch each other everywhere and we kiss. Let me tell you that daddy’s aroused at you and really wants to play with that sexy dick my son has. But you must be brave as I know you are or I will feel ashamed, thinking that you are thinking that incest is not correct after all, that a father should never wank his son. Do you know how embarrassed I could feel after now? So embarrassed that I would have to tell you to stop everything now, put our clothes on and never have sex together again and not even talk about this again. Tell me, Billy, do you really want your father to feel guilty for jacking you off?

    -I don’t want that, dad, you can be sure. Oh, I was not aware of your lust. We have been for months arousing each other. And ok, dad, you want me brave and I will be brave: never repent of anything you have ever done, you hot man. You can do it, but if you are gonna masturbate me, dad, I will also do it.

    So we started for the first time to jack each other off and…

    But I could not continue. William busted a new load then.

    -You are so hot, Brian. You certainly know how to guide Billy and make him happy.

    -All I want is training him so he is well coached for a guy like you one day. And I had two objectives: it is true I was aroused at my son and really wanted to finally play with his dick. But my second goal was giving him permission at last to play a bit with his father’s dick. I would not let him blow me for he knew very well that to be able to one day suck my cock, I had to suck his cock first. But we could play with each other’s dicks a bit.

    -Hot, Brian.

    I had to do something else and I reached out my hand and touched William’s dick too and I started to pump it.

    -Oh, my God, you don’t have to, Brian.

    -Now you know that Billy has made me have gay desires and you have a hot dick too and I want to play with it. I will take my dick out for if you want, you will also be allowed to jack me off.

    I did take out and so William and I started to jack each other off. But I suggested something else. I told him I wanted to see his body too and we could both take our clothes off.

    -Don’t worry, William. Billy won’t return until nine because he knows well I want to talk to you. We still have a couple of hours. We can be two naked buddies having a little sexual fun without our clothes.

    That hot boy agreed with me. It was obvious we were starting to feel some complicity with each other. So we both stripped completely and I also praised his naked body, the body of a sexy guy I wanted to become Billy’s master, and possibly his partner too. So with no inhibitions we started to feel comfortable with each other’s nudity and each other’s desires and were reciprocally jacking off. Meanwhile I kept on talking.

    -That first reciprocal masturbation made us both on fire and I told Billy the truth. I only regretted not having done it before but it was heaven to have a dick in my hand and give it pleasure, and it was wonderful it was my brave and hot son’s dick that I was pleasing. He thanked me and told me he had never thought one day he could play with his father’s dick and asked me, since I was training him, whether I thought it possible that a future master would like jacking him off too.

    -Of course, Billy. Any man who lusts for boys has to see your sexy body and that long and wonderful dick you have and will desire to jack you off.

    He told me he had never thought of that but it could be.

    -You can be sure, Brian, that if ever your son becomes my slave, I will jack him off. I still remember the day I could glimpse his sexy body and his hot cock.

    -I knew you would react like this. Ok, that first day Billy told me he needed to cum soon and I told him me too.

    -Stain my hand, Billy. I want to have your semen on my hand, please.

    And we both stained the other’s hand then. But he told me.

    -Dad, you will never feel bad after now, I promise. This is only our tender intimacy. You want to masturbate your son and if you want to repeat, we will.

    -Thanks, Billy, thanks for understanding me.

    And he went to his room then. We continued like this in the two weeks left before he entered University. We jacked off at every meal, not only at lunch, but always reciprocally now. And one day in September he left and I learnt to miss him till it was finally Christmas holiday. I had asked him to focus on his studies now and told him sex was secondary but of course he could have sex with anybody he wanted. But when he finally came home on holidays, he would tell me that he was still a virgin.

    I had told him that if ever he came home with anybody he should WhatsApp me first so I could have my clothes on. But I waited for him with everything on nevertheless. And he finally came and smiled at me.

    -Have you felt any lust for daddy these months?

    -Of course, dad. I inevitably wanked over you every day.

    -So, why don’t we first strip and jack each other off. I have missed your cock too, Billy. Later you can tell me all you have lived these months at University.

    We did have a long masturbation now and I finally noticed he was comfortable with his daddy’s lust for him, provided I never went as far as to blow him or to ask him to fuck me. In that he is still adamant, I’m afraid. Such pent-up desired we had built for each other these months of absence that we had to cum soon. Of course then we went to lunch and he was explaining to me all his months at college and I could see happily that he was more in love with you than ever, living with you now.

    He would have, as you know, very few days before he returned to college and I knew well it was hell for him that I was so strict in the rule that he could do nothing unless I did it too. I was thinking and I thought of a couple of things I could allow him to do with no need of me doing them too. So one night after dinner I treacherously approached one of my stinking feet to his nose and told him.

    -You always tell me that you like your father’s smell, so tell me the truth, Billy: does this smell not disgust you?

    -I love the way you smell, dad. But you’d better withdraw your feet from my nose or despite all your rules I will inevitably lick your sexy perfumed foot.

    -It’s about time, Billy, that I am braver to give you some more pleasures. Don’t worry: you know I lust for you and I would also lick your feet but daddy will relax one of his rules and you can give me a footjob if you want.

    He didn’t answer but started to slurp my stinking right foot with devotion. He only stopped sometimes to thank me.

    -Oh, dad, you have such a wonderful taste that I would like to do this every day.

    -You can, Billy.

    And he was a long time licking my foot. His tongue on it was heaven but I was glad I had been capable of giving Billy such pleasure at last. He asked if he could also lick my left foot and I answered.

    -Here it is for you. Enjoy.

    And he was as conscientious with it as with the other foot. He sobbed and cried out of real emotion telling me once and again he was proud of me. I told him I was proud of my brave soon too. Then he mustered courage and asked me too.

    -Dad, I won’t ask to suck your cock, since I know you will not allow me, but you have let me lick your feet. Could I also lick your pits? Oh, please, please, tell me I can. The smell of pits, especially William’s and yours, is my favourite aroma.

    I raised my right arm and told him.

    -Here you are then. Enjoy your father’s pits.

    He was not shy and I knew that by giving him permission to enjoy my pits, I had taken him to heaven. I reassured him telling him I liked to see so much pleasure in his eyes and after today my feet and my pits would be available to him. When he finally blasted his load after five frantic minutes in each of my pits, I was sure I had never seen him erupt so much semen. The kitchen floor was a long lake of cum and I told myself that after now I would always allow Billy this pleasure. No more inhibitions: I was his to enjoy.

    We were like this all his holiday time and he reveled in my aroma every day a couple of times. I knew he would desire to suck my cock and it would have been so easy. He only had to allow his father to suck his cock first. I often told him this but he never let me. Nevertheless I did not have a single shower on Christmas holidays. And he left again. I was thinking about something else in the time he was absent. I could be going too far but I would ask him first.

    So when he returned in summer of course we first stripped and jacked each other off. Then we had lunch and I asked him about his first year at University and everything was good news. He had passed all his exams and he also told me about you and I knew you had passed every subject but Spanish Literature. However, you did pass the subject in September. Now it was the time for me to ask him.

    -Billy, you have often told me that you would like to eat William’s shit and also mine. But would you also like to drink his piss?

    -I’ve never tasted pee, dad, but I am sure I would gladly drink it coming from him or you –he looked at me stubbornly.

    Then I stood up and went to a close cupboard and took out a long glass, still fizzy with what I had pissed some minutes ago and gave it to him.

    -You know, Billy, that if one day you wanna taste my crap, I have to taste yours first. But I can do an exception with my piss. You can drink it if you want.

    -Oh, dad, can I?

    -You can. Hope you enjoy. You have never tasted piss so far and it might disgust you.

    But he took the glass and sniffed my piss. He didn’t hesitate and drank a bit. He stopped only to praise the taste. “Oh, dad, this is delicious”. And then he drained the glass in a single gulp.

    -I have really enjoyed, dad. Could I drink some more of your pee this summer?

    -If you want, you can have a drink of my piss now at every meal.

    And so he did. And this is the end of my story, William.

    And he came then and stained my hand. He was gonna apologize now but I also stained his hand and he shamelessly approached his hand to his mouth and tasted my semen.

    -So, William, Billy is sufficiently trained now, I think. His father has wanted him to always feel proud and comfortable to one day become somebody’s slave. Still he has never sucked a cock or been fucked but I am sure he will do it perfectly. He would not let me, though. A pity for me, believe me. I cannot tell you how many wet dreams I’ve had imagining I was finally allowed to suck that sexy cock of his and have even dreamt I had his dick up my ass. But I know he does not want to let me do it. I think it would be easier for him if he knew I have already been fucked or sucked a cock. So, the question now, William, would you let me suck your cock?


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  • Super Love

    Though my lover was a mystery, I found myself much happier. Regardless how much I wanted to scream it from the roof tops that I had a boyfriend that loved and cared for me, it wasn’t the thing to do when you boyfriend was a masked vigilante who didn’t even trust you with his name. He had me eating healthier and I found myself doing some exercises to tone up for him. Sex with him was most definitely a work out and I had to build my stamina.

    Steel Tiger kept his regular visit with me, now just showing up in a mask and street clothing that hugged his muscled frame. He still encouraged me to continue on with my Saturday night routine, of going to the bar, having a beer or two and then coming home. I felt like I was cheating on him, going without him, but somehow I always knew he was watching me, even in the bar.

    Something was missing, and he knew it. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, stare into those magnificent blue eyes while we cuddled on the couch, watching some stupid show on television. I knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t happen. He valued his identity too much, and my protection even more. I knew it was for the best, but sometimes what is best for you is not what you want.

    He must have sensed my dismay because he told me that this Saturday he would have a surprise for me. To dress nicely. I looked at him suspiciously. Things with Steel Tiger were never really as simple as that. As I suspected, Saturday morning, after I came back from my morning run, yes, I started running, I came home to find a tuxedo laying on my bed, with a note.

    Wear this tonight. A car will be waiting downstairs at five. Just get in the back. It will bring you to me where we will enjoy a wonderful evening. It won’t be everything you deserve, but it will be what I can give you for now. Oh, and wear the Steel Tiger underwear.

    I laughed. I had so many pairs and he knew this. I liked the idea of having him in my pants, even when he couldn’t be. I was dressed in the perfectly fitted tuxedo. I had a sneaking suspicion he measured me in my sleep. I wouldn’t put it past him. I was down stairs a few minutes before five when the tinted limo arrived. As instructed I got in the back without hesitation.

    In the back sat a blindfold on the seat. “Once you have put on the blindfold, we will be heading to our destination.” Came the distorted voice over the intercom. I smirked knowing there was a catch. There was always a catch, but I relented, tying the black cloth around my eyes. “Thank you, sir. We will be off now.” Lite jazz filled the back cabin as the car pulled out onto my mystery date.

    I was oddly nervous. We drove for some time when we finally stopped. “Please, keep the blindfold on.” I heard the door open and a strange hand took mine, guiding me out of the car. The strange thin man took my arm in his and guided me. The air was cool and crisp on my skin, a far cry from the hot and humid of the city. I heard our footsteps on the stone path we took.

    “I’m glad you made it.” Came the sultry voice that sent shivers down my spine. He took my arm from the driver. I immediately smiled at his touch. “I apologize, but to allow us a night of romance, one of us must wear a mask of sorts.” He took my hand and guided it to his uncovered face. I ran my hands over his rugged soft face. I slipped my hand up, running my hand through the short thick hair. “Come, dinner awaits.” He laughed, leading me into his lair.

    I leaned on his arm. “I wore the underwear.” He let out a hearty laugh. “For dessert.” He stopped us for a moment and guided my lips to his. He had shaved, closely. I missed the prick of his whiskers. My hand paused running up his face before remembering that barrier was gone. He lifted me up in his arms, my hands greedily ran through his mane, taking in as much of the touch as I could get.

    “Our dinner grows cold.” He said with a low growl. He didn’t set me down, just moved forward carrying me.

    “I want desert first.” I playfully whined. “Besides, how am I going to eat blindfolded?” I sensed his wicked grin. “What are you up too?” He didn’t answer. He stopped and sat, me still in his arms. “Babe?” I questioned, but received no answer. He turned me sideways in his lap. “I know you like mystery and intrigue, but I’m hungry.”

    “I’m going to feed you silly.” He brought a fork speared with meat to my lips. “Open up.” The meat melted on my tongue. Flavor exploded on my tongue. That is how we continued the meal, sharing a plate. A bite for me, bite for him. It was intimate, erotic, sweet. Desert he grew bold, running the sweet fruit along my lips before allowing me to take the fruit.

    “Shall we take a walk in the garden?” He asked, wiping my lips with the cloth napkin. “I’ll guide you.” I heard the smirk in his voice. He sat me on my feet, taking my arm in his. I leaned my head on his arm, him guiding me from the room, into the cool crisp air.

    “I don’t know why I was expecting some sort of zoo.” I laughed. “This place is huge. I assume it’s nice as well considering the owner.”

    “It is.” He guided me to sit alongside him on a concrete bench. “It’s beautiful out here, but only half as beautiful as you.” I playfully punched him. “It’s true.” He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. “I see you’ve been working out and eating better.”

    I leaned into him, intoxicated by his scent, the light floral scent. “I thought it was best to be in top shape to keep up with you.” I laughed. “Before I moved here, I wasn’t the quiet homebody you encountered. I use to run at least four times a week, had dozens of friends, but this city just beat me down.” I ran a hand along his lapel. “Then I actually got beat down and you came to my rescue.”

    “So what changed?” He voice was low and seductive.

    “I got a cat.” I laughed snuggling close to him. “I know I can’t, but I really wish I could stare into your eyes right now.”

    “Will you stay the night with me?” He asked pulling me closer.

    “Yes.” I said breathlessly.

    We sat for a bit, intertwined. The cool air and sounds of the night surrounding us. It was nice seeing his world, even if I couldn’t with my own eyes. “Let’s go inside.” He stood, taking me with him. He navigated me through the complex walkway. He guided me into the… house? Mansion? Lair? We stopped at the base of some stairs. Before I could question, he scooped me up, and then ascended the stairs.

    He maneuvered us into a room, setting me down on my feet. “Stay.” I tried not to laugh at the sexual hunger in his voice. I could hear him removing clothes. I began getting hard at the anticipation. His hand tilted my head up, his lips brushed mine for a moment. “Mmhh. So many things to do to you.” My lips longed to feel his again

    He began by removing my suit jacket. His hands brushed over my shoulders, I took a deep breath in anticipation. He delicately unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my heaving chest. He slipped the shirt from me. I felt his eyes ravage my body. I lifted each foot for him to remove my shoes and socks. He undid my pants, the sound of the zipper caused me to catch my breath.

    He slipped them down over my now muscled butt, down my toned legs. I stepped from them, but he stayed lingering. My cock ached with the hardness. His fingers grazed the back of my thighs up to my ass. I gasped, bracing myself on his bare shoulders. “I get so turned on knowing I’m always in your pants.” His voice was husky with desire. He tugged down the elastic, freeing my raging hard on.

    He growled lowly, fighting the urge to do what was only natural. I stepped from my now stretched underwear. I heard him gather my things and take them away. I dripped with anticipation. He returned, his lips on mine. He lifted me up, then laid me on the plush bed. It was a brief moment before I felt the weight of his body on mine. My legs intertwined with his, my arms pulled him close.

    “I want to be completely naked with you.” He whispered into my ear. “So this room is pitch black.” I felt him tug away my blindfold.” I expected to be blinded by light, but I only saw the outline of his face in the darkness. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but it is what I can give you for now.” I heard the fear in his voice. I pulled him close.

    “It’s perfect.” I ran my hand over his naked body. “I’ve seen so much of you tonight, more than I ever expected.” I smiled, knowing he could not see it. “Kiss me.” His lips pressed against mine. Our tongues danced. I could feel the steel in his cock on my leg. He moved down to my neck, nibbling, biting, and licking. I clawed at his back.

    He moved down my body, finding my nipple, grazing the nub with his teeth. He savagely attacked with tender care, his tongue circling my nip, the other being slowly rubbed by his hand. My hands ran through his hair, enjoying the brief time that they would get to do this. He switched nipples, toying with me. “Oh my God!” I screamed, arching my hips into him. He gave a satisfactory groan. I felt his hands move across my body.

    His kissed his way down my chest to my stomach. He kissed and worshiped my now taunt belly. I was being driven insane with the lust. He had done so much for me this evening. I could not hold back any more. I flipped us, he unsuspecting of the actions. He landed on his back, me taking charge. I moved to his lips and kissed him fiercely. I took his hands from my body and pinned them with my own beside his head. “It’s my turn to lead.” I huffed breaking the kiss.

    I found my way to his nipple, my teeth grazing the tight nibs. My hand slid from his hands, across his bulging biceps and his well-defined chest. I move to the other nipple, his groans of pleasure stoked the fire of lust in me. I moved my hands across his twelve pack, down to his throbbing cock. I stroked it. I looked up into the darkness, grateful he could not see the wicked grin on my face.

    I moved down between his legs, my home away from home, and took his meaty balls into my mouth, swirling them with my tongue, while my hand stroked the thick cock above me. I felt his hand in my hair, his gasps of pleasure echoing in the room. Here, we need not hold back for fear the neighbors. I swirled my tongue over one ball then the other. Their smooth skin danced lightly over my tongue.

    I continued milking his cock with my hand, coating his veiny cock with his own lubricant. I gave his balls one last nuzzle. I moved up his cock, my tongue slowly moving up the rigid shaft. I swirled my tongue around the tip, gathering the protein fluid, before slowly working my way down, like a lollipop. I heard his guttural moan of pleading as I moved my way back up. I swirled my tongue again, over and over, the tip.

    Just when I knew he could not take it anymore, I took the head into my mouth felt the girth spread my lips. I paused for a moment, allowing my mouth to fill with his seed. I moved down further and further, pushing him down my gullet. His hand stroked my head as I bottomed out, my nose pressed against his hard flesh. I moved back up and down, my tongue wrapping around his cock, every now and again, I bottom out again, feeling him deep into my throat.

    I was lost in lust. Steel Tiger’s felt so perfect down my gullet, slipping passed my gag with ease. “Get up here.” He ordered with a plea. “I’m hungry.” I pulled off him, giving him a few casual strokes as I pretended to pondered. I moved up on top of him, my legs straddling his chest. I swallowed him back down, missing the feel of him in my mouth.

    I felt him spread my cheeks. His tongue zoned in on my hole, even in the darkness. His licks were not tentative, but hurried and ferocious. He smacked my ass for good measure as I whimpered and moaned around his cock. I easily spread for his tongue like melted butter. I felt him stroking my tender insides with his strong powerful tongue.

    I made out with his cock, my tongue giving it thirty lashes with every bob of my head. I felt him playfully nibble on my cheek. I knew what that meant, but I just pushed back against his mouth. I straightened up, leaving his spit slick cock alone. “Frost those cakes with your tongue!” I bellowed hungrily. He dug into me, his tongue in my hole, his hands in my hips, pulling me down into him. His tongue darted in and out of me.

    My body screamed for what he really wanted, what I really wanted. Tonight was my night. I pulled myself from his grip, his tongue trying to get one last swipe across me. I straddled his hips. Before he could say anything, I position him at my entrance and glided down him. “Fuuuucccckkkkk.” I moaned as I bottomed out with ease. “I’ve missed that.” I huffed, feeling the fullness in me. I ground my hips against him, allowing my body to adjust to his immense cock.

    His hands ran across my chest, then rested on my hips. “Do it babe.” He practically snarled. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you’ve missed me not being in you.” I rose and fell upon him, his cock slicing through me, hitting my special spot. My cock jumped and drooled at the feel of him in me. I pounded myself against him. “You feel so fucking good on my cock.”  He took my cock in hand, stroking me while I stroked him.

    His hips began to move in time with mine. Deeper and deeper he sunk into me, his balls bouncing against my ass. “You feel so good in me.” My voice was almost a whine of pleasure. I collapsed down onto his chest, my hands taking firm holds of the sculpted pecs. “Give it to me, fuck me, fuck me hard.” I gasped with unbridled passion. His pace quicken, his hips bucking me up. I slammed my ass back down, refusing to be tossed from this bucking tiger.

    He rolled me over, my back flat my legs pinned behind my head. He speared me with without a second thought. He leaned back, holding my legs like a wishbone. He ground his hips teasingly in my ravaged hole. “I’m going to fill you up.” His breathing was short, menacing.  He began thrusting into me, making good on his word and my command. I stroked my cock, panting and groaning at the pleasure inside and out. I could feel his pace quicken, my strokes matched his rhythm.

    He pulled out for a brief moment flipping me onto my stomach. He pulled my hips up to doggy position and slammed into me again. My legs shook from the exertion of him in me I arched my back, wanting him deeper in me. He slapped my ass, a bit harder now, the sting causing me to groan. I reached under me, returning to my cock that was in need.

    I couldn’t hold back any more. “I’m coming!” I screamed, my voice reverberating in the darkness. My body shook, my ass clenched and my load spilled out in shot after shot onto the soft bedding. I heard him let out a throaty roar, my own climax sending him over the edge, and true to his word, I felt my insides fill with him.

    He continued his thrusts in me. I collapsed onto the bed arms too weak now that I was spent. He spread himself on top of me the wet smacking of his cock in my stretched hole. He slipped out rolling over to the side and pulling me close. “My little vixen.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “We are going to have to make this a weekly thing.” I ran my hand over the perfection of his chest.

    “That was awesome.” I admitted, out of breath. “One question…” I paused trying not to ruin the moment. “Well, two. How are we going to clean up? And who sleeps in the wet spot?” We both laughed, he pulled me onto him, our lips find each other despite the darkness. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in that wonderful scent of musk and sex the now emanated from him.

    “I wasn’t expecting us to be…” He paused, mimicking me. “So wild.” I laughed sleepily, enjoying the closeness. “I’ll think of something. Let’s just enjoy the moment now.” We lay for a while, with me resting on his chest, his arms holding me, when I finally dozed off, the sound of his racing heart soothing me to sleep.

    I awoke slightly with him picking me up, I was exhausted from our sexual Olympics. He laid me gingerly down on my stomach, a warm wet cloth running over my nether regions. I was lifted again, I was slightly aware of the bustle of someone else there, then laid down once more in the soft bed, my ferocious kitty laying next to me pulling me into a him as we continued our slumber.

    I felt the soft kiss on my forehead sometime later, then the sound of a door shutting. I lazily woke up stretching and feeling for my lover. He was gone. A lone lamp strewn light into the room, a note and my blindfold underneath. I should have known I would not wake in his arms, though I wanted to so badly. I reluctantly left the bed, making the short distance to the light.

    “Last night was wonderful. I wish you could have woken in my arms, but you know, for now, that is not possible. When you are ready, you can turn the lights on in the room, and freshen up in the bathroom. I have a change of clothes for you in there. Put the blindfold on, and turn the lamp off, and I will come and get you, my love.”

    I smiled at the last two words. I did my morning ritual, dressed in the khakis and polo he had laid out for me. I was eager to have him close to me again. I dawned the blindfold, ensuring that nothing could be seen, and turned the light out. I waited patiently, leaning against the bed. I heard the door open and the soft footsteps coming towards me.

    My chin was lifted and the familiar stubble of his face grazed my face as he kissed me. “I’m sorry I could not be here when you woke up.” I leaned forward, hugging him, throwing him off balance. His hand ran though my hair, holding me close. “You feel so good.” I didn’t want to let go, but did with reluctance, his hand cupping my face.

    “You’re too good to me.” I smiled, knowing he was looking down on me with adoration. “I love you.” I felt his hand stiffen for a moment, then he leaned down and kissed me, our lips parting for each other. I felt the stirring in my pants, but knew we did not have time for this, or maybe we did. He broke the kiss and the silence lingered only a moment.

    “I love you too.”

    We had breakfast, much like dinner, sharing a plate of food and juice. We snuggled for a while till the late morning, and I was driven home. “We are here.” Came the garbled voice. “You may take the blindfold off.” I did, blinking to let my eyes adjust to the light. “The tuxedo is yours, please take it with you. It was a pleasure having you with us today.”

    I wanted to protest but sighed and grabbed the garment back. I had an extra spring in my step as I made my way back to my small apartment. I laid the garment back on the bed, noticing a small bag pinned to the hanger with a note. I shook my head at the lavishness he showered upon me. I took the bag from the hanger and opened it, a golden ring with a tiger emblazed on it falling into my hand.

    “I don’t just want to be in your pants, I want to be holding your hand as well.” I smiled shyly, slipping the ring on.


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  • First Gay and Speedo Experience for 18yo

    I was 18, going into my senior year in high school (in the U.S.). I  had a great body, did lots of sports, and worked out 3-4 times a week. I  also had a girlfriend. We had sex and it was good, but I knew deep down  that I was either bi or gay. I loved looking at hot guys but had never  had an experience in that direction.
       
     I had a summer job with a moving company (also helped keep my body in  great shape) but quit a week early to go to a friends cottage with a  bunch of guys for the last week of freedom before school started. But  one of the guys had to work on the Saturday so we decided to go on the  Sunday. Which meant I had nothing to do all day Saturday, and man was it  hot. Around 90 degrees. I went for a bike ride and on the way home  stopped at the local Olympic outdoor pool. I had no towel or swim suit,  just the shorts I was in, a t-shirt and running shoes. I went in and  swam then lay down on the concrete deck. I think I pretty well dozed off  but woke to see two guys putting their towels out right beside me. Man,  were they hot. Both were over 6 feet with absolutely amazing bodies.  And both wore really small speedos, the ones with sides about an inch  wide. One black, one red. One of them had really tanned/olive skin, a  real mediteranean look. The other also a great tan. Looked like both  shaved their bodies. I noticed a lot of people staring at them they were  so hot.
       
     After a few minutes one of them said hi to me and we started to chat. I  couldn’t stop looking at their bodies, especially the bulge in their  tiny speedos. The darker guy was a flight attendant from Israel, in town  for 48 hours on a layover. The other lived here. I asked them how long  they had known each other and they kinda laughed and said they met last  night at a club. I just nodded and smiled with them.
       
     They got up to swim so I join them. When we climbed out of the pool one  of them asked me why I didn’t wear a swim suit – I just said I was out  riding and didn’t have one. He said “come with me” – we went into the  change room and he got his bag from his locker and pulled out a black  speedo – another really small one – and handed it to me. I wasn’t shy so  I pulled off my shorts and put it on. Wow, I loved it, sooooo small,  sooooo sexy. First time I had ever worn a speedo. We went back to the  pool and sunned and swam for about a hour. I loved seeing people staring  at us, three hot guys in such small swim suits!!! Then they said they  were leaving, did I want to go with them for a beer, he said he lived  just a few blocks away. I said sure so we left. I pulled on my shorts  over the speedo, they got tank tops from their locked and we left. They  just had on flip-flops, I had on running shoes. It felt sexy the three  of us walking together in our tiny speedos. We walked to my bike then  the three of us walked to the parking lot. They freaked me out again  when they went to a beautiful black Porsche. One of them unlocked it and  opened the roof – the darker guy took off his tank top and climbed in. I  looked in the car when he started it commenting on how nice it was but  was really looking at their amazing bodies side by side. They told me  the house was three blocks down, number 48. I rode and with traffic we  got to the house about the same time.
       
     Once again it made me feel funny, kind of a tingle all over, walking  into the house in just our sexy swim suits. Inside the house they took  off their flip-flops and the one with a tank top on took it off…..then  he said to me “get those shorts off man, you’ll get the floors wet”. So  I took off my running shoes and slipped off my shorts – and even though  he hadn’t said anything about my t-shirt I took it off to so we all  have on just our speedos. We went to the kitchen and stood against the  counter and had a beer. I just couldn’t take my eyes off their amazing  bodies. Might have been my imagination but it looked like the bulges in  their speedos were bigger and they were wearing them a bit lower, pretty  well right at the top of their cocks.
       
     I asked them what club they had met at – one said Cirque, it was a best  place to go to hook up. I knew exactly what he meant but didn’t respond.  Then he said “man, we all smell like chlorine, let’s have a shower”. So  we went downstairs. I walked down behind the Israeli guy, his ass was  so amazing in the tiny speedo. We each used the toilet (one at a time!!)  then the home owner guy opened a door and there was a huge shower,  glassed in, about 6 feet square, with three rain shower heads in the  ceiling about a foot apart. He turned the water on and we all climbed in  under one of the showers. We soaped up and man was I staring and  getting hot. Then all of a sudden when I was staring at the Israeli guy  he smiled at me and put his fingers into the sides of his speedo and  started sliding it down.
       
     I was mesmorized watching him get naked. When his cock sprang free I  freaked – it was fucking huge, long and thick. When he flipped his  speedo to the side with his foot he slowly rubbed his hands down his  body to his cock – I just stared. It was then I noticed his hair was  shaved to a perfect, small square above his cock. Wow. Then all of a  sudden I felt the other guys hands on my back and he soaped me up. I  just stood there frozen. Then the Israeli moved in front of me and put  his hands on my chest and started rubbing my pecs. Then, wow, I thought I  would faint, the guy behind me went to his knees, rubbed my ass, then  slowly started to pull my speedo off. I just stood there.
       
     When he got the speedo down and my cock was free the Israeli guy slowly  went to his knees in front of me. I looked down at him – he looked up at  me – and when our eyes met he smiled and his mouth opened wide and his  tongue came out and he lowered his face to take my now hard cock into  his mouth. At the same time the guy behind me grabbed my ass cheeks,  pulled them apart, and buried his face in my ass. OMG. My first time and  it was with two absolutely beautiful, hot, chiseled guys. They went at  me for a couple of minutes then the Isreali guy stood up and kissed me.  His tongue went way into my mouth. Our tongues slashed. Then he moved  back and smiled at me again and put his hands on my shoulders….pushing  me down.
       
     I went to my knees and for the first time in my life started at his  cock. Licking it….kissing it….then taking it slowly into my mouth.  Up and down I went. Loving it. After a while we turned the shower off,  dried each other, and went into a bedroom with a huge bed. We climbed  onto the bed and went at each other for about two hours. My first time –  started by noticing just how hot these guys were in their tiny  speedos!!!


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  • Escape to Girne

    “You didn’t come to me last night,” Fikrit growled at me as I walked up to this yacht outside Effendi’s restaurant.

    “But I’m on time now, aren’t I? I’ve come here knowing what you have in mind. How many of your other men have done that?”

    His eyes flashed anger with an edge of lust. “You think you know why you’re going on this boat ride?”

    “It’s why I stayed away from you last night. It makes today all that more enjoyable. Time to build up tension, and strength . . . and cum.”

    “You don’t know anything about it, or you wouldn’t be here. I’m going to break you. I’m going to break you in two.” I was standing on the quay and he in the stern of the yacht, but he had my forearm in a vice grip. I wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want me to go now.

    “That’s what I want you to do,” I said defiantly. “I want to be broken. But I won’t pretend that I have been broken until I am, so do your worst.”

    “You won’t have to pretend,” he growled, as he jerked me into the boat, and, losing my balance, I fell in a heap on the deck. “Take him to the cabin, Ahmed.”

    The black Egyptian hauled me up, hustled me down some steps and down a narrow corridor and then into a cabin. He left me on a double bed against one of the cabin walls, my wrists and ankles bound and a ball gag in my mouth. I was still clothed in my T-shirt and shorts, though. I surmised Fikrit wanted to cut those off me at some point.

    As the yacht maneuvered through the harbor, past the glaring walls of the castle, and out to sea, headed toward international waters, I was sure, I looked around the cabin. Quite an operating theater, I decided. The light in the cabin was dim, because all of the surfaces were covered in sheeting, which covered the portholes as well. The walls were draped in white sheeting as was the floor of the cabin. Sheeting was even pinned up to the ceiling. A hook, with two short chains ending in restraints dropped down from the ceiling near the middle. Spaced a bit from those and spread from each other, but parallel to each other, were two more hooks, both with short chains ending in restraints. On the floor underneath these hooks, I saw a large, rectangular metal tray with a rim on it. I started to pant and go hard.

    I’d seen such a chamber before. I knew they existed in my line of work. I’d never participated in anything that went on in one. But I knew they existed. They encompassed my feeling of guilt of even knowing such chambers existed and were put to use–guilt for which I constantly sought punishment and atonement. I had had this guilt a long time before I sent Peter into Syria and he was executed there.

    There were implements of torture–sexual torture–on a table on the other side of the cabin. I’d seen them immediately upon being manhandled into the cabin by Ahmed, but I had looked away. I knew they’d be here, though–chains, hand and ankle cuffs, dildos in various sizes, floggers, whips, gloves attached to batteries, clamps, ball weights, strings of graduated bulbs, what looked like an electric prod, sounding wands laid out on a cloth, razors . . . flaying knives. Different implements perhaps from the other torture chambers I’d seen, but just as lethal.

    I’d barely had time to take it all in when the commotion started. I heard yelling. I heard Fuad scream. “Evasive action. Turn us west.”

    I heard the motors rev up and felt the force of the yacht’s bow jerking up and the pressure of the increased speed. Then more shots, and screams. A bullet came through a porthole into the cabin, tearing through the sheeting, and I rolled myself onto the floor at the side of the bed. More screams and shots. Then the loss of power, followed not long after by the bumping of the hull of another a craft on this one. Splashes. Voices, still concerned, but not yelling now.

    “What are you doing down there, Clifford Clarke?” An almost bemused voice, pronouncing the name distinctly, both of us knowing that wasn’t my real name. He knelt down beside me, placing his Glock on the deck, and released the ball gag from my mouth. His hands then went to undoing the other bonds.

    “Umm, quite a nice collection of toys here, I see,” I heard him say as he popped the ball gag out of my mouth.

    “Ted Severn, come to save me, I presume?” Both of us knew his name wasn’t really Ted Severn.

    A woman appeared at the door, alert and efficient looking, still on guard, She leaned against the door frame, holding her Glock in both hands, the barrel pointing up. Cynthia–the young woman at the bar at the Harbor Club the other night. She was looking straight ahead toward the stern of the yacht, a statue, not seeing or listening to anything from inside the cabin.

    “You almost had yourself in one big pickle,” the man whose name really was Andy, said, as he freed me from my bonds, hoisted me up, and sat me on the bed. “Seeing what’s in here would have made me keel over dead before help arrived,” he muttered, his voice full of awe.

    “Yes,” I answered, trying to keep the slight note of disappointment out of my voice. Andy didn’t know the extent of my fetishes and vices. He had no idea how aroused this chamber had made me, even knowing where it could end up. No one in the Agency did or ever had–no one but Peter. Hung from a chain and sounded? Been there, did that, enjoyed it under the hand of Peter. A hot and bothered Peter, in a chamber much like this, but just used for other purposes–by men like Peter–in an afterglow unleashing of the rush that brought them to men like me. Peter not that different from Fuad Fikrit. Not much different at all.

    “The two men? Fikrit and the Egyptian?” I asked.

    “Dead before we boarded. Several shots each. To keep this from being messy and to keep the opposition guessing, the bodies went overboard.”

    “And the cargo. Heroin, I assume? Overboard too?”

    “Yep, heavy drugs. We’ll keep those, though. They’ll finance some good operations.”

    Good operations financed by selling drugs, I thought bitterly. Yes, I had a lot to atone for–and quite enough before Peter showed up. Peter was my path to salvation. The punishment I deserved. “The arms Fikrit provided to the Yemeni?” I asked.

    “We intercepted that ship yesterday. Running a guns for drugs racket just like his brother, Fazil, had been doing. Even from here, just like Fazil. Quite ballsy of him.”

    “Yes, Fuad did have iron balls. Did you find the Yemeni where I told you, Andy?”

    “Yes, but, Christ, Steve, you nearly took the fucker’s head off.”

    “Yes, I did,” I responded grimly. “But there’s only so much you can do with a kitchen knife.”

    Andy gave me a surprised look and then sighed. “Guess it was just retribution. We finally decided yesterday that it was the Yemeni who executed Peter on tape.”

    I’d already known that. I’d heard the voice before–when it wasn’t coming from behind a black hood on videotape, beamed to the world on the Internet, the assassin holding a sword in one hand and gripping Peter’s shoulder with the other, as Peter knelt in front of him, facing the camera. Peter’s face showing defiance and serenity . . . and, yes, possibly only seen by me, a flicker of arousal. Peter died as he had lived–violently. I was sure it was the death he wanted. So, even though I felt guilt because it had been my operation, the guilt that weighed me down went much further than Peter. It went to all of those other operations and activities I’d engaged in to protect my country, all of those other torture chambers much like this one.

    I bet Peter had a hard on when he died.

    “I know Peter was a special friend of yours–and your best operative–Steve,” Andy said, laying a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “I can completely understand finding Murad, the Yemeni, that way in the church graveyard.”

    Andy didn’t even begin to understand my feelings in this. He, like a few others, had surmised that there was a sexual bond between me and Peter, but he had no idea of the nature and intensity of it.

    I had felt guilty, wanted to be punished, even before Peter came on board in my unit. The sexual tension was there between us from the beginning. And I sensed the danger and violence just under his surface. He was achingly handsome and sensually muscular. Bigger than me–in all ways. Our operations threw agents together, sent them to the edge of their nerve and adrenaline. I knew he was hung. And I knew he was short fused. And I quickly surmised that he would fuck other men cruelly.

    I had reamed him in front of the others one day in the office, knowing it would set him off–hoping it would set him off. He fumed all day, resentful of being bossed by a younger man, appearing at my office door after hours, when only the two of us were there. I could tell he was barely keeping it together when he spoke to me in clipped, breathy tones of increasing volume and obscenity. I slowly rose from my desk; came around to stand close to him, invading his space; and poked him in the chest with a finger while returning his obscenities.

    That’s all it took to goad him into action. He landed me with a punch and then knelt over me, beating me with his fists. I clawed at his clothing, getting into his trousers, grabbing his cock, telling him in no uncertain terms what I wanted from him, what I knew he wanted to do. Wildly we tore at each other.

    He fucked me first there on the floor, me on all fours, both of us panting like animals, he crouched over my body and mounting me cruelly with a deep thrust of his cock. And then another thrust, and then pump, pump, pump, while I writhed under him, begging for punishment–for him to do his worst.

    He fucked me a second time that night, clearing my desk with a sweep of his arm, bending me over the desk, looping his belt and throwing it over my head. Tightening the loop around my neck, jerking my head back, while I choked and clawed at the noose, and he pounded my ass.

    I’d never been so hard; had never shot off so full and so far.

    We lay there, him on top of me, still inside me, the noose loose now, both of us panting hard. Both of us realizing it had been a cleansing release. Both of us reveling in the glory of it. Both of us knowing we had set a new relationship–that we’d be doing it again and again and would go on to doing so much more in the same vein. And that it would progressively move to new highs, new testing of the limits.

    “Liked that, did you?” he had asked gruffly after we were too exhausted to go on, but there was a grin on his face.

    “Very much so,” I had answered, smiling wanly. He’d done what I wanted but much more so than I’d been bargaining for. “It did clear the air.”

    “And showed who is gonna do what to who,” he had muttered.

    I was Peter’s boss, but, from that moment, he dominated me. He had made that perfectly clear to me, and it was what I wanted. Testing his command, he used me cruelly–and when I responded to that with greater arousal and want, he moved me on to increased pain-pleasure, to sharing me with other men, to new and more inventive toys of pleasure and sensual torture.

    It wasn’t really true that I later sent Peter to Syria. He had told me he was going. It was what he wanted to do. It even, I’m sure, was how he wanted it to end. Perhaps his one regret would be that I was not there to share it with him.

    But God knows I had been trying to be there.

    “What are you going to do now, Steve,” Andy asked. “Straight back to Langley, or do you want some time off?”

    I had planned to jump right back into it if this operation went as planned. Now I wasn’t so sure. I felt like I had atoned for Peter to the extent of my specific guilt for that and to the extent I’d ever be comfortable with it. But there was so much else to feel guilt for, to seek punishment for. But, who was I kidding? I lived for the punishment. Peter knew that. No one else in the Agency did.

    “I think I’ll stay on here for a week or so before returning,” I answered.

    My first thought was to look up Ergon and his buddies–maybe even try to get them back working on the house. But that was too tame for me in this moment, in the mood I was in after being inside Fikrit’s floating torture chamber. Ergon had gone soft. And, I had to admit it, I’d gone soft for Ergon too. I didn’t need–want–that now. Maybe later in life. Maybe when I’d mellowed. Maybe I’d have the restoration of the Turkish house completed–maybe even by Ergon, Jamil, and Sami. Someday, maybe.

    What I wanted now was the UN soldier and his buddies. I still wanted it to be as hard as I could get, as aroused as I could get, as fucked as I could be. I still needed to be beaten into ejaculation.

    “There’s a place I’ve always liked, on the coast, west of here,” I said. “You know, you were there yesterday. Rosie’s on the Rocks. I think I’ll spend some time there before I get back into the traces at the Agency.”

    * * * *

    It was the next Friday, during the special 5:00 p.m. session, when my blond giant UN soldier and his buddies reappeared at Rosie’s, blowing in like a raucous wind storm. My soldier came straight to me. “Me and my buddies–”

    “I’ve rented a room for the day,” I interceded.

    “My buddies. There are seven of us today. My buddies want–”

    “I’ll take them all.”

    “We thought that maybe–”

    “One at a time, two at a time. I don’t care. Punish me. It’s what I want.”

    One of the soldiers was chanting “Gangbang, gangbang, gangbang,” in a low, monotonous voice, as we were all pressing into the room I had rented.

    “Geez, the room is small,” I heard another say.

    “We’ll make it fit,” I heard from a third one.

    I’ll make it fit too, I was thinking. I’ll make them all fit. I already was straddling the hips of one strapping soldier, his back on the bed, his feet on the floor, my channel skewered on this cock, when my blond giant worked his way in behind me and between the spread legs of the soldier under me. My soldier gripped my throat with one hand, making me gag, growled “Take it” in my ear, pushed my torso down toward that of the soldier under me, moved his hand to holding his bulbous cockhead to resting on top of the root of the cock inside me, and thrust inside. Both the soldier under me and I yelled and began thrashing about, sending the cocks inside me to rubbing and pressing to the limit of my endurance inside me. The blond giant started to pump.

    All around me, faces, leering, laughing lustful and nervous laughs, hard cocks out and being stroked. Other soldiers waiting their turn. Some not waiting. Soldiers were sitting down on the bed close on either side. A hand came in to grip and start stroking my cock from one side; another hand from the other side possessing my balls, lacing them between strong fingers and separating, pulling, rolling, and squeezing them. Crushing them.

    I writhed on the two cocks inside me in pain-pleasure, building toward shooting my first load. Another soldier was standing on the bed, over the soldier under me and in front of me–grabbing my head and forcing his hard cock between my lips. I opened to him gladly. One also standing, crouching over the shoulders of the soldier working my balls, crouched beside me on the bed, his free hand cupping my cheek, stroking his cock close to my face–an anxious one, I discovered, as I felt his cum hit my cheek and neck and dribble down my shoulder blade.

    From the doorway, an observer couldn’t even have told I was in the middle of this mass of hard, virile, lust-driven young male flesh.

    I was zooming toward ninth heaven. I’d never speak of this in Langley. I knew that Andy and the others wouldn’t understand. Peter understood, though. Not thinking now of anything I’d done in the past. That was good enough for me.

    – FINI –


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  • Like father, like sons

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    In Mikes room, Sam found a gorgeous chestnut brunette, laying on the messed-up bed. The room reeked of sex, which was no surprise.

    The girl on the bed was completely naked, and when Sam entered the room, she moved a hand to between her legs, starting to finger her pussy. “Mmmh – you are as sexy as I remembered. Oooh … are you gonna cum and scratch this itch?”

    Sam walked to the bed, his briefs fighting to contain his growing cock. The bed sank under his weight, as he grabbed the hand that was rubbing her own pussy and replaced it with his own.

    He dug his middle finger into her soft, wet pussy, slowly fingerfucking her, while massaging her clit with his thumb. Cassy had firm, perky, soft skinned 32C-cup tits; the brunette crying and whimpering under his hands had D-cup tits, with big, brown nipples. Her skin had a golden-brown tan without a single tan line and clean-shaven pussy. Her skin was soft and malleable and she was more voluptuous than Cassy had been.

    “Uuuh yes – finger my puss, yeah … oh, yes …” She whimpered and cried, as he sank his finger into her.

    Sam stuck his other thumb in her mouth and she started to suck it like a vacuum. “You wanna get fucked, huh? First by the son and then the dad? You are a nasty little girl, aren’t you? If you are lucky, there are two more cocks here, that might enjoy a ride in you …”

    She moaned around the two fingers he had rammed in her mouth now, twisting her own nipples with one hand and forcing Sam’s index finger and middle finger into her as far as possible.

    “Maybe you need something bigger to suck on? Come here.” He pulled her off the bed and got her on her knees on the floor. “Get my dick wet, bitch.” Sam smashed his bulge into her face and the brunette started to slobber up and down the length of his cock and down his balls. The white CK briefs were soon transparent from her spit. “Get them off me and suck my cock.”

    Quickly she yanked the briefs down his legs, Sam stepped out of them, and her hot, full lips wrapped themselves around his iron rod hard cock. Sam took it from there and quickly rammed it as far in as he could; he held her head in both hands, face fucking her with about half of his staff, in long, slow strokes. Slowly he slid more and more of his cock into her mouth, poking the entrance to her throat.

    “Think you can take more than that?”

    The brunette knotted her head yes and Sam grabbed her by the hair, forced her down on her back, with her head over the edge of the bed. Quickly, he slid his cock back into her mouth, getting about a third of his hard shaft down her mouth, poking against the entrance of her throat. He started to slowly slide more and more into her; with a hard push, his head slipped past the opening of her throat. “Relax, babe, breath so you don’t choke!” Sam caressed her neck and throat, allowing her to adjust her throat.

    As she adjusted, Sam slowly started to push, sliding more and more of his prick down her throat. He could see the outline of his cock along her throat; he expected her to choke on him soon, but she took it like a champ.

    Finally, he had sunk his entire cock into her mouth and throat, and he started to face fuck her, first slowly but with increasing speed. The girl was in the meantime fingering herself and Sam started to twist and manipulate her nipples.

    “Want me to fuck that pussy of yours?” As he asked, he bent over and slid a finger into her pussy, thrusting in and out.

    Below, still with his fat cock stuck down his throat, the brunette moaned and groaned a bit; Sam took it as a yes and started to slide out of the throat, withdrawing inch by inch. When the head finally popped out, the girl sat up and gasped for air, while Sam grabbed a condom from his son’s stash and slid it on.

    With a couple of tugs, Sam crawled onto the bed and got between her long, slender, tanned legs. He slid the head of his cock up and down between her soaking wet pussy lips, before sinking into the hilt in single go.

    The brunette screamed out loud, as an orgasm rushed through her. “Oh fuck! Oh shit yes! Oh God, fuck me!” she cried and Sam was only happy to oblige.

    He started to pump in and out, rolling his hips as he started to fuck faster and harder. Her pussy had sucking noises and his thighs slapped against her ass, as he started to pound her hard and fast. She was moaning and screaming and twisting below him, as he put his entire 200-pound body too good use on the poor 140-pound college girl below him.

    As he kept fucking her, he grabbed her neck with one hand, carefully putting pressure on her carotid arteries, choking her a bit. He was careful not to make her faint from lack of oxygen. She grabbed his big hand, but didn’t try to pry it away and she wrapped her legs around his, meeting his pounding thrusts. The bed rocked below them and Sam was covered in a shining layer of sweat.

    Suddenly, Sam withdrew his cock and turned the fucked-out brunette around, making her prop up her ass on her knees. He forced his cock back into her, thrusting hard and with a hand on her back forcing her tits and face into the bedcover.  He grabbed her hands and held them down next to her face as he pounded her hard from behind.

    In the meantime, the brunette had completely surrendered to him; he got to take her as he wanted. He had stuck a finger up her ass at one point, and though she had flailed a bit, he had kept his wide thump stuck up her anal opening, massaging her pussy from the other side.

    He could feel his orgasm starting to build; the brunette had had at least three orgasms during their fuck. The room was hot and smelled of sex and sweat. Her pussy was tight around his cock and when she finally orgasmed again, it sent Sam over the edge. With a hard thrust, he slammed in to the hilt and roared as he came; the brunette trashed and cried as she came again under him.

    Sam collapsed onto of her, thrusting in and out of her a couple of times, as his orgasm started to subside. He rested on top of her for a couple of minutes, running his hands under her and fondling her big, firm tits. He marvelled in the virility and stamina of youth, the firmness of a young body and willingness to experiment.

    As he withdrew from her pussy, the brunette rolled over and smiled to him. “Would you mind if I stopped over again some time? To see you?” Sam knotted and grinned. “Company is always nice,” he answered and winked.

    He left Mike’s room and went to the kitchen, through the court yard garden. In their room, Taylor was riding one of the girls that had been sharing his cum earlier, while the other had her pussy placed in the face of the girl being pounded by Taylor. Cody had finally gotten around to fucking the girl he had been bringing to the brink in one of the living rooms; she was practically fucking herself on him – Sam guessed that he had driven her so far, that she simply had forced him on his back and mounted him. He looked to be enjoying himself, being virtually molested by the coed. In Sam’s own bedroom, Mike and Cassy looked like they had showered and were now napping in his bed; their limbs were wrapped around each other, naked.

    Sam laughed to himself. This was not an unpleasant way to spend a Saturday.


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  • Cock Tasked

    The site of his athletic build but also new found interest in kink got me to send him a message even though I was nearly positive he wouldn’t respond as most men with such god-like builds aren’t interested in an average sub. An hour had passed and he had viewed my profile. Within minutes he responded saying he’d be alright with chatting. I asked what he was looking for in a sub attempting to see if he was alright with an average submissive like me. He stated he was new to kink, as was I, but that he wanted a sub that would allow his limits to be pushed. We began talking about our fantasies more. He was a minimalist when it came to bondage but stated that he was very dominant and rough when it came to sex.

    He then provided a disclosure about his dick being abnormally big. He warned that most men find it difficult to take and that he’s looking for someone who was willing to try and take it deep. He stated that tying them up and role playing sounded really hot to him as well. I was nearly tempted to beg him to let me be that slave but held back due to the fact that I wasn’t sure if he was interested in making me his submissive fuck toy. I told him I would feel honored to be the man to accept the challenge and take his cock and that it’d be my goal to eventually take it all. We continued to talk about our fantasies more. Eventually I told him about my fantasies to be fucked by dicks as large as 13 inches long and 4 inches thick. He told me he was roughly that same size the last time he measured at just over 12 inches. I found the thought of a sexy dom with a large penis giving me the time of day to be the greatest gift I had ever received at this time, unaware of what the size could do to a person who hasn’t been fucked a lot yet.

    I then proceeded to ask about what sorts of role play he was interested in curiously hoping that there would be something that involved capturing a sub and training him to be the slave he knows deep down he is. He stated he wanted a fuck slave that would live in his private corders and be ready to service him and obey his every command. The slave would be fucked several times a day even if he was tired or sore. The boy would treat his dom like a king. The slave wouldn’t be allowed to leave except on a few rare occasions. The slave would feel so lucky that he’d often worship and submit to his master’s command and large penis even when uncomfortable or in pain. If the boy failed to worship his sir enough he would find himself tied up and fucked hard and deep with no limits on how torturous the dom would get. The slave would be always kept horny and on the edge never able to cum until he could do it hands free while being fucked. Sometimes the master would bring in other friends who were also masters to use his sub or watch as he got fucked. The sub would eventually feel so loose that there would be no worry for damage.

    I was so turned on by this fantasy that it managed to make me fantasize bringing it to life with this man. We proceeded to talk more about our fantasies and eventually decided it was time to make it a reality and explore together. We planned to meet at a Walmart near his place shortly after I was to be off of work for our first session that may eventually turn into a full time experience. We walked around together for a few hours and discussed how this session would be. We decided to make things more realistic he would buy a few items he planned on using tonight and then “stalk” me for a little bit as I wondered before walking out and being “captured” in a dark alley around the back where I’d then be brought to his place for the fun to begin.

    After completing the capture scene we rode to his house. I found myself so horny that I couldn’t resist rubbing against my jeans. He would occasionally look at me eager for everything he had planned for us. Eventually we arrived at his place. He provided me with a tour that was quick as the place was not very big. We then sat down and talked a little bit more about how the night would be going down. I was to be tied up, fucked, and edged for a couple of hours and then be brought back to my car where we’d discuss future sessions before calling it a night. He could tell I was a bit nervous and tried to help me become relaxed. He approached me and had me rub his dick through his shorts to make it hard. I couldn’t resist how attracted I was to him that I started rubbing mine as well as I scanned his body in amazement. He pulled down his shorts and that’s when I realized I might have been a little too over my head as I’ve had such little experience being fucked as it was that it was going to be next to impossible to take his dick all the way. He smirked as he began to notice my doubts.

    He quickly grabbed me and started dragging me to his bedroom. He made sure to showcase how even not tied up I was no match for him if I wanted to leave and that he was going to make sure he was provided with everything he wanted by the end of the session before allowing me to leave. He threw me on the bed and was quick to tie me up even though at this point I wasn’t resisting. I made the suggestion for him to go easy on me until the weekend when I wouldn’t have to worry about working after being torn open. He chuckled and stated I would be taking every inch of him if I wanted it or not tonight and that I could always request the day off if I didn’t feel like I could make it through a day with my hole being spread open.

    To prepare for all his devious plans he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut everything off of me besides my socks. My whole body was presented to him for the very first time. He didn’t seem to be turned off by it, instead excited to have a warm hole he’d soon be in. I began to panic as I didn’t bring an extra set of clothes for my trip back. He reassured me that he’d loan some of his clothes so I could return home. It seemed as if he was intentionally setting us up for a second session which at this time I had no objections to, in fact was intensely happy that I found the perfect dom that also wants me to submit to him. He started by lubing up a few of his fingers and shoved them into my hole quick and deep. After a few seconds a third entered stretching my hole to match the size of an average penis. Eventually a fourth entered, I began to squirm in my binds and moaned. I secretly hoped he would stop there as I was not prepared for a full fist, but without warning in slipped his thumb. My squirms got more intense and he laughed at the site of me thinking he’d go easier on me if I showed I wasn’t ready. That was when I started to notice I was wrong to think this was going to be a simple session to find our limits. It was a session to break my limits.

    Finally after what felt like several hours but was in reality was probably only a few minutes he pulled his fist out and quickly started beating his now throbbing cock on my hole. I found myself only able to mutter “Uh…” and “Uhm…” repeatedly as I trembled in the tight ropes holding me in place. He was really enjoying the site of a completely hopeless sub forced to take whatever he wanted to dish out, and he made sure I knew it. “Oh, I’m going to make you wish my giant cock never left your hole gaping, begging for more.” He stated knowing it would give me goosebumps. During our conversation earlier I stated one of my biggest turn ons was the communication between a dominant master and his slave and he knew exactly how to verbally bring me to my knees. He started spitting on his dick and around my hole remembering I stated I am more turned on by using spit instead of lube, but now was not the time to use saliva as lube when he was about to tear me into two pieces. I was completely hopeless to this athlete that while he was bringing our fantasy to life I began to regret ever insisting on this oppurtunity.

    Without warning or hesitation it felt like a penis of average size entered my hole all the way to where the balls would normally be. At this point I was able to handle it for the most part. After being fucked a few times my hole was prepared for all but the seven inches to be put in all at once. I flexed in my restraints and let out a soft moan. He looked me right in the eyes with a big smile. I knew from our messages that he hasn’t been able to fuck anyone due to his abnormally large sized cock and everyone being afraid to let him approach their holes due to knowing that if he were to start pounding, even gently, organs would be rearranged. I began telling myself that I could take one for the team so he could get his sweet release he had been looking for, for so long. Without warning again he shoved a couple more inches into my hole. At this point it hurt so bad I couldn’t help but moan and beg for mercy. Every few seconds he pushed further, and my begging for mercy became out of control. He covered my mouth and stated if I try to resist what I will be taking for the rest of my life I would regret how much harder he would fuck me.

    I didn’t honestly think there was a way I could be fucked any harder at this point so I ignored the statement and continued to squirm and beg for mercy. He slipped out looking as if his dick got harder from that and walked over to a Walmart bag. He pulled out duct tape and approached me. He yanked off one of my socks, and pinched my nose so my mouth would open. He then shoved the sock in and wrapped a large amount of duct tape around my mouth to keep me silent. He insures me that I made a mistake by ignoring his command and that it turned him on to the point of where he can’t hold back any more. He stares me in the eye and makes sure I look at his as well as he immediately shoves all of his cock in me and begins quickly and roughly fucking me. He reminds me that if I had obeyed this wouldn’t hurt as much, but the more I try to resist tied up the more turned on it makes him.

    After about fifteen minutes of the rough penetration he cums so deep inside me I feel it in my stomach. He pulls out and leaves to clean his dick up a little bit after destroying my hole. He returned to me beginning to fall into sleep mode and releases me from my binds. “Regardless of your disobedience you did so well with taking my cock.” He begins as he wipes tears from my face before moving to stroke my cock. “Now I’m going to reward you… But you better beg for permission to cum when you get close.” He states as he teases my cock and tells me that I’m his sex slave. He continues to verbally degrade me to nothing but his fuck toy as I start getting close. I ask once for permission to cum but the rest of that night was such a blur I think I passed out before finishing. When I finally wake I find myself blindfolded and tied up once more. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and I began wondering how much of what I remember actually happened. I only knew for certain that my hole was in so much pain. “Hello? What time is it? I probably should start going to work.” I start, and continue asking, along with other questions about what exactly happened with no response.

    I began to wonder if my mouth was still covered in duct tape with the silence, but then shortly before I started speaking again I finally got a response. “Oh I’d say it’s almost noon. And don’t worry about work, I told them you were a little… Tied up.” Panic filled my mind and body as I was not planning on having an extended session. He reminded me that I was still naked and also of our conversation several days ago about wanting to role play having a fuck slave. He explains to me that ever since I messaged him he instantly knew that I was going to be that fuck slave and it wouldn’t be just role play. He smiles as he senses my panic and ensures me that my kinky submissive life will be kept secret to those close to me, but that they were informed I would be going through a training program and would be gone for awhile so nobody will try to look for me and find me worshiping a cock too big for my own good. He states that when the session started he began wondering if I was ready to submit, but that by the end when I passed out he knew this is where I want to be.

    He then approaches me and begins stroking my dick again. Every once and awhile he deep throats it. He informs me that I will most always be on edge but I will never receive the permission to cum. He goes on to explain that the only time I would cum again while being his slave is if I do so uncontrollably while being fucked hands free. He states that there will be no time in my submissive life to be able to shoot a load, and that’s how a sub’s balls should stay. Filled and blue. When he went into detail about all of this I became so uncontrollably horny that I was ready for almost anything. He sensed that and began sliding his dick up my hole once again. It immediately hurt due to the fact it was still healing from the previous night. I gasped but I almost felt honored that I was this wanted. I slowly began to get close to cumming and began warning my new master. Asking if I could cum in hopes he wasn’t serious about constantly being on edge but never receiving my release. “No.” He says firmly, “You’re the cum dumpster, not the cum provider.”

    From there my life as a fuck slave began and my regular life ended. While I still have a lot to learn I knew I had no choice but to accept the fact it’s what I’ve always wanted. This is who I was meant to be.


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  • Leavenworth

    I still couldn’t believe it: sentenced to life in prison for a crime I didn’t commit.  Actually, the guy had tried to kill me!

    It all began a few months ago, while I was traveling through Kansas.  I had stopped for the night at a fleabag hotel, just to have a place to rest my head.  At a local bar, I had struck up a conversation with a handsome, well-built man who had similar sexual tastes as I do.  One thing led to another, and we ended up back in my room and naked on top of the bed. The sex was great, and we went on late into the night.  Eventually, both of us exhausted, we dropped off to sleep, our muscular, sweaty bodies still entangled.

    The next morning, I came awake as he sat up and got out of bed.

    “Time for you to leave already?” I asked groggily, enjoying the view of his morning wood.

    “Yeah,” he responded as he dressed quickly, even pulling on his gloves.  “I really hate to do this, but I have to.”  He took my gun off the chest of drawers, aimed it at me, and tried to fire, but the safety was on, so he couldn’t.

    I was wide awake now and lunged desperately at him.  As we grappled for control of the gun, somehow the safety released and a shot rang out.  The guy looked at me funny and then fell to the floor, dead, a bullet through his heart.

    What can I say?  I panicked, grabbing the gun and getting dressed as fast as I could. Unfortunately, the arm of the law was faster.  I was arrested as I walked out of the hotel.  Because the dead man had been wearing gloves, only my prints were on the weapon, and with no witnesses, I was quickly tried and convicted.

    So here I was, in a cell at Leavenworth.  It could have been worse.  I had the cell to myself, which was unusual.  I got three square meals every day.  There was lots of recreation time with the weights in the yard, so I was able to keep my body in tip-top shape, muscular and cut and ripped.  At five-foot-ten-inches tall, I wore my 290 pounds well.  I have managed to maintain my well-muscled body into my mid-30s, thank goodness.  I’ve been told I’m handsome in an Italian sort of way.  My ethnic heritage accounts for my hirsute body, and my cock, at nine hard inches, and low-hanging balls are nothing to sneeze at.  Oh, and did I mention that I’m exclusively a man-lover?  Always have been, ever since I was old enough to know what I liked.

    Today marked the beginning of my fifth year here.  It started like any other: awake at 6am, get dressed, breakfast, bathroom, out into the prison yard to work out.  But when I returned to my cell before hitting the showers, one of the guards was waiting for me.

    “Hey, Borelli, the new warden wants to see you,” he said.

    “Any idea why?” I asked.

    “Nope.  Just told me to get you and bring you to his office.”

    I hadn’t met the new warden yet.  He had arrived several weeks ago and, I had learned, had spent his time reviewing prisoner files.  Still, I hadn’t heard of anyone else being summoned to his office.  I went over in my mind any possible infraction I might have made, but I came up empty.  Worried, I meekly followed the guard from my cell down the long hallway and through a set of double doors.

    “In here,” the guard indicated, motioning to a windowless door.  I stepped into an also-windowless room, and instantly the door slammed shut behind me.  It also sounded like it locked.  I was getting really nervous.

    The new warden (I assumed it was him) stood with his back to me, illuminated by an overhead light.  He was, in a word, huge – a good ten to twelve inches taller than I – and must have outweighed me by close to one hundred pounds.  He held a file – mine, I presumed – in one beefy mitt.  Slowly he turned to face me, a smile on his broad, handsome face.

    “So you’re William Borelli,” he said, his blue eyes raking my body from head to toe appraisingly.

    “Yes, sir,” I replied respectfully, matching his stare with one of my own.

    “I’m the new warden, Mike Pratt.”  He reached out and shook my hand warmly.  “I’ve been looking over your file, Bill.  If you ask me, it looks like you got a raw deal.”

    “Why do you say that, sir?”

    “The official account in here …” he indicated the file he was holding, “… says that you lured the victim up to your room and shot him in cold blood because he was a government agent about to arrest you for drug dealing.  Did you know he was a government agent?”

    “No, sir, not until it came out at my trial.”

    “I didn’t think so,” he snorted.  “Employees in the bureau where he worked take a vow that if they ever get involved with anyone who might blow their cover, they have to eliminate the person.  He must have seen you as a threat.”

    Now it was my turn to snort.  Before I could speak, he held up a hand to silence me.

    “Let me see if I can reconstruct what probably happened,” he went on.  “And don’t interrupt until I’m done.”  He proceeded to narrated the events leading up to my arrest as if he actually had been there.  It was uncanny.  When he had finished, from the astonished look on my face, he could tell that he had hit the nail on the head.  He chuckled, “Well, am I close?”

    “That’s exactly how it happened,” I said.  “But how did you …?”

    “When you’ve been in law enforcement as long as I have, you get hunches about people.  I knew the dead man vaguely, and he always seemed a little ‘off,’ like a loose cannon.  Besides, I’ve been watching you every day since I arrived here.  You don’t seem like a killer to me.”

    “Gee, thanks,” I snickered.

    “Now, I’m going to ask you two questions, and I want you to promise to be absolutely honest with me.”

    “I promise, sir.”

    “Good.  First question: do you prefer sex with men or with women”

    I was taken aback by the question, but still I answered unhesitatingly.  “With men, sir, exclusively.  It’s not a matter of preference.  I always have.”

    “An excellent answer.  Second question: what do you think of me?”

    This one was easy.  “I find you extremely attractive, sir.  And that’s even with your clothes on.”

    That rattled his composure for a split-second. His steel-grey eyebrows shot up, and his mouth puckered into a wry smile at my boldness.

    “I find you extremely attractive also, Bill.  I get hard as a rock when I see you working out alone in the prison yard, wearing either your prison jumpsuit or, even better, those skimpy black briefs you sometimes exercise in.  But I’ve never seen you naked.”  Pulling his shirttails out from his trousers, he began unbuttoning his shirt from the collar down, his blue eyes never leaving mine.  “Why don’t we rectify that right now?  Let’s get naked together, eh?”

    I needed no additional urging.  I tore my eyes from his to concentrate on unbuttoning the front of my jumpsuit and shrugging it off my shoulders.  It fell to the ground in a heap, leaving me naked but for my shoes and socks, which I quickly toed off also.  My muscles, still somewhat pumped from my recent workout, gleamed with sweat, and my nine-inch boner pointed straight out from my crotch.

    An appreciative whistle from the warden as he perused my nude body redirected my attention to him.  He too was completely naked.  His handsome face was topped with a steel-gray military crewcut, but other than that and the hair under his arms and at his crotch, he appeared to be almost hairless.  Unlike my gym-sculpted physique, his muscles lay in huge broad plates on his body, emanating power.  His beer-can-thick, twelve-inch sex-tool jutted out and down from his crotch, hard and drooling pre-cum.  Although I was sure that he must be at least twenty years my senior, he had the body of a much younger man.

    “Oh, Daddy!” I breathed softly.

    He cocked an eyebrow and chuckled.  Opening his arms wide, he urged in a low, sexy voice, “Come here, Boy.  Come to Daddy.”  As if in a trance, I leaned into his embrace and wrapped my arms around him.  He pulled me tight against his hard body, my face nestled in the cleft separating his beefy, solid pectoral muscles.  I felt his meaty hands rubbing up and down over my back, massaging and kneading me from my pumped lats to my tight glutes.  I was in heaven.

    Eventually he reached for my chin and turned my face up to his.  His mouth descended over mine, and our lips locked in a tongue-dueling, spit-swapping kiss, the likes of which I had never experienced before.  As we kissed, I moved my hands to his pecs and found his quarter-sized nipples.  As my fingers began to pinch and twist them, a loud moan rumbled in his throat.

    He broke our kiss long enough to groan, “Ooh, that’s right, Son.  Work Daddy’s tits. Make them hurt.”  What could I do but comply with his request as he continued to moan his pleasure?  I felt a thrill of happiness hearing this magnificent man call me “Son.”  He was my Daddy and I was his Son, and all was right with the world.

    Something the size of a log began rubbing up and down along my muscle-laddered midriff, wetting my abs with moisture.  I quickly realized that it was his gigantic boner weeping pre-cum, working it into my body hair.  Breaking free of his embrace, I dropped to my knees in front of him.

    Leaning forward, I licked the enormous mushroom-head of his boner, making him moan even more as I lapped up his essence.  His cock swelled even larger, and it looked like he was about to cum.  Quickly I grabbed his bull-balls and yanked on them hard.  That usually delays my orgasm, but in Mike’s case, it accelerated it.

    He let out a yell, and his brawny mitts seized the sides of my head as he tensed up.  Great gobs of sperm blew from the deep cleft of his cock head and splattered against my face, dripping down to catch in the hairy jungle of my sweaty chest.  I finally was able to wrap my lips around the geysering organ, and a river of cum spewed into my mouth and down my throat.  Grabbing onto his beefy butt cheeks, I pushed a couple of fingers between them to probe the sweaty crease.  I could feel his butt hole spasming, opening and closing during his orgasm, so I shoved one thick finger inside to find his love-nut, resulting in renewed waves of his semen into my mouth.

    As the flood abated, he began to fuck my face slowly, almost lovingly, making sure that my tongue and lips milked every last drop from his firehose.  Eventually he pulled out completely, gasping heavily from his exertions.  He pulled me up and eagerly licked his congealed sperm from my chest hair, then kissed me deeply, feeding it to me with his tongue. Finally he straightened up to his full height.  He stared, eyes glazed and chest heaving, at nothing in particular.

    Figuring our naked time was over, I bent over and began gathering up my clothes.  That got his attention.

    “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes focusing on me.

    “I figured that since you got your rocks off, we were done here,” I responded, somewhat defensively.

    “Really?” he said, sounding a bit hurt that I would think that.  “What kind of Daddy do you think I am that would leave his Boy unfulfilled, especially after you drained me so completely?  I’m a better man than that, I hope.”  I dropped my clothes, and he gathered me in his arms once more.

    After more making out, sucking and licking all over each other’s sweaty body, he leaned into me and whispered, “How would you like to take your Daddy’s cherry ass, Son?”  I stared at him in disbelief.  “Oh, come on, Boy.  I’m clean, and I know you’re clean.  What’s the problem?”

    “Sorry, Sir.  I’m just having a hard time believing that you’re cherry.”

    “Son, when you’re built like me, guys just assume that you’re a Top.  They don’t even dare ask if I want to be fucked.  I give you my word of honor that no one has ever been up my butt – until now.  But I want you to be the first – and possibly the only – man to breed me.”

    “Okay, Dad,” I acquiesced eagerly, my cock aching in its hardness and desire.  “Where do you want to do it?”

    Mike lay down in the floor, spread his legs wide, and raised them up.  “I want to watch you as you fuck me, Son … watch you take my anal virginity.”

    I needed no further urging from him.  I went down on my knees and began to lick his muscle-butt, pushing between the twin globes to probe the tight pucker.  After about ten minutes of this, he began to whimper, so I wetted one of my fingers and began to circle his asshole, pushing in little by little, past the sphincter, until I was in to the third knuckle.  I rotated the finger, stretching the lining of his fuck-chute, before pulling out.  His grunt of disappointment quickly changed to a moan of pleasure as I upped the ante, now using two fingers.

    “Damn, you’re tight!” I exclaimed.  “I hope I’ll fit up there.”

    “You’ll …do … fine, Son,” he groaned.  “Damn, that feels … so weird … but in a … really good way!”

    As we had no lube available, I worked up a wad of spit and spread it all around and into his sweet hole, then repeated the process on my cock, which by now was drooling pre-cum in anticipation.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this hard.

    “Okay, Daddy, relax and open up.  Your Boy is ready to breed you.”  I slapped both butt cheeks quickly, and he gasped at the unexpected contact.  In the split-second that he relaxed his hole, I plunged in all nine inches of my throbbing tool with one quick thrust.

    “Aww, Jesus, shit!” he groaned as he felt himself being impaled.  He rolled his head back and forth, and beads of sweat broke out on his head.  He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. But I’ll give him this: he never once called on me to pull out.  I was so proud of him at that moment.

    “Relax, Daddy,” I cooed in his ear.  “I’m all the way in.  You took me like a champ.  I’m going to keep real still until you adjust to my being inside you, no matter how long it takes.  Soon you’re gonna feel real good, I promise.”  He nodded his understanding.  I raised my head so he could see me smiling, and I could sense him slowly start to relax and calm down as he stared at my reassuring face.  “That’s right, Daddy.  How does it feel?”

    “It feels… weird … like I have a 2X4 up my butt,” he panted.  “But it doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.  I think … I think I’m ready for you … to start fucking me … and don’t … don’t hold back … Son!”

    “God, I love you, Dad!” I beamed as I began to fuck him – out, in, out, in, out, in … each time increasing the speed slightly, pummeling his sphincter into mush.  Before long he was fucking me back, meeting my thrusts with those of his own, pistoning his hips in response to mine to ensure maximum penetration.  His hole was tight as a vise … well, a vise lined with soft fine feathers … and insanely hot.  I had forgotten how fantastic a really great fuck could feel.  It had been years … well, actually, since the government agent whose death put me here five years earlier.  Since then, I’d had to make do with my hand exclusively.  But now I was back in the saddle, and did it ever feel wonderful!

    For a while I could hear the slap of my balls against the warden’s butt whenever Ithrust into him, but as my speed reached a frenzy, the sound stopped as they pulled up to the base of my boner.  I switched my angle of attack slightly, and suddenly the tip of my cock found his prostate.

    “Whoa!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening and his cock suddenly back at full mast and drooling.  “What was that you just hit?”  I pulled out and then rammed it again.

    “That’s your love-nut.  You’ve probably never had it stimulated before, but there’s always a first time … like being fucked!”  I repeated the procedure.  Soon he was a quivering mass of muscle, begging me to do it again, and every time I did, his cock spurted more pre-cum.  Before long, he was an incoherent mess, cursing and whining and groaning.  I held his arms fast so he couldn’t touch himself, but it wasn’t easy with his sweaty body thrashing about.

    At last my imminent orgasm would no longer be denied.  Sperm thundered up my cock-shaft and tumbled out into him, followed by salvos of my cum, cooling the insane heat of his bowels and lubricating his hole.  I gave one final thrust against his prostate, and his cock erupted, hands-free, spraying semen all over his torso.  Some even landed on me.  He howled his release, and I hoped that the room was well insulated so that the guards couldn’t hear our rutting.

    At long last I collapsed on top of him, and again he wrapped me in his muscular arms.  I felt so safe … so loved.  I could feel our hearts beating as one, and I hoped he could too.

    After a while we disentangled and rose to our feet.

    “I want more of that, Son … a lot more,” he said, kissing me tenderly.  “Someday I want to breed you, too, but that’ll take a lot of preparation.  I don’t want to hurt you … ever.”

    “So where do we go from here, Mike?” I asked as I gathered my jumpsuit and began to wipe myself clean with it.  “I’m stuck in here for life.”

    “Yeah,” Mike agreed as he also began to dress again.  “About that … I got a hunch that you might be getting a reprieve soon … maybe even a full pardon.  See, I have connections, Bill … people in high places … that can review your file, and with me as your advocate, I expect they’ll agree with me that your sentence was a gross miscarriage of justice.  The day you walk out of here a free man is the day I retire from the prison system, so I can walk out with you.”

    “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Mike?  Do you want us to be together as much as I do?”

    “That’s what I’m saying, Bill.  And in the meantime, we can still meet here whenever we want.  Don’t worry, the guards are good with it.  I let them have their fun, and they let me have mine.  I can’t have you sleeping with me yet, but I’m sure that day will come.  I’ve searched my whole life to find a man-lover who was also a masculine, handsome muscleman.  Who would have thought I’d find him here?  There’s just one thing though.”

    “What’s that?”

    “Can you handle a life sentence … with me?”  He chuckled as I nodded eagerly.

    Fully dressed, we hugged and kissed, and then I was led back to my cell, with a spring in my step and a sparkle in my eye.  Life was looking better all the time!


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


  • Tucker

    — Follow up to “Tucker” 8/22/17 —

    Before I’d realized it, summer had passed and I was preparing to move across the country to pursue graduate school. This meant saying goodbye to Tucker, who I’d had ample fun with at work periodically. We would sneak ourselves into overstock in the very back of the store and blow each other, or pull each other into the bathroom and make out, pinning the other one to the wall. We had no qualms about going to work on days when our schedules matched up.

    On my last day, Tucker came over to the gun counter where I was working. “Hey you,” he said, cocking his head back with a smile as he always would. “Text me when you take your lunch,” he winked. Blood rushed from my brain to the tip of my cock, and back, in an instant. I blushed and smiled as he turned to walk away, seeing a customer approaching. 

    About an hour later, I opted to take my thirty minute lunch, but made sure to text Tucker beforehand. “Meet me in layaway” he replied to the text. All of the store’s layaway items were taken upstairs and kept in what were old human resources offices before the store moved HR to a separate location; close to a dozen offices of decent sizes dimly lit with old fluorescent bulbs, half flickering, half burnt out. The walls are stacked with boxes of layaways or overstock items and returned, defective products. I’d only been up here twice before, and I remembered it being better lit. I wandered down the sole dim hallway, peeking into the offices off to the sides, expecting to see Tucker in one of them. “Hello?” I said softly. I followed the hallway to the left. All of the office doors were open except for the one on the very end of the hallway, the old conference room. Hardly a conference room, but more a bigger office with a table and a dozen chairs and dry erase board. I slowly opened the door to the old conference room and laid my eyes upon Tucker. With a fleece blanket from the clearance isle covering the table and a half broken candle flickering away on a chair, Tucker laid naked, partly covering himself with the blanket. I beamed. “Come on, we don’t have long,” he said with a stern face. A beat. He cracked his smile, “I’m playing, come here,” he patted the blanket. 

    I lifted off my shirt as I kicked off my shoes and pulled away my belt. My shorts dropped to my ankles as I closed the door behind me and walked towards him, showing my stiff cock through my briefs. I climbed onto the table, on top of Tucker, straddling his waist. He pulled me in and kissed me before thrusting his eight inch rod into my groin, shocking me with pleasure. “I want you,” he said between tongue wrestling, “now”. He thrusted against me again, his cock shifting down to grind against my ass. We both groaned quietly as he dry humped my ass. I licked and kissed his neck, up to his ear, tickling it with my tongue. He shuddered. “Take me,” I whispered. Without skipping a beat rolled me over so that he had me pinned down. He kissed me down my neck and chest and abs, down to my cock that he took into his mouth. “Ahh,” I moaned. He hopped to the side of the table as I laid on my back. He lifted my legs up and spread them apart. My heart was beating out of my chest. His kisses got further south and he began flickering my asshole with his tongue. I writhed in pleasure, muffling my moans with my hands as to not be too loud. He gripped my thighs and pulled my ass into his face, digging his tongue deep into me. 

    He stood up, “You ready?” he asked. “Fuck me,” I winced, and grabbed his pulsating dick with my hand, “just like this,” as I pulled his to my ass. I wanted him raw, bare, deep, so fucking bad. He dropped a thick stream of spit onto his dick and rubbed it with his hand to lube it up. I held my legs, spreading my ass as he pushed his cock against my tight hole. His thick head slipped it, sending a shockwave through my body. “Ahh! Fuck,” I moan. “Shhh, it’s okay” he whispers, not wanting us to be too loud and get caught. He continues to slide into me, inch my inch. He grips my shoulders tightly as I slowly take all eight inches of him. He begins to thrust in and out of me, groaning with each thrust. “Ahh, ah, ah, ahhh, ah” he goes. He pulls my legs up to his shoulders and lifts the small of my back up off the table, thrusting deeper into my ass, “Ahhhhh,” I can’t help it. “Shhhh!” Don’t be loud,” he said kind of forcefully… but it was hot. Really hot. I moaned again, “Ooh, ahhhh!” His eyes got big, “Shhhh!” he gripped his hand over my mouth. “Mmmm,” I quietly moaned in complete pleasure. He stifled my moans as he plowed into my ass. I moved his hands to my neck. “Ah, you like that, huh?” he asked, gripping my neck tighter. “Oh fuckkk, yes” he wince, “fuck me.” After several minutes he pulls out and pulls me off the table. He spins me around and bends me over, and in an instant is eight inches deep again, sliding right back into my ass. “Oh fuckk!” I moan – pretty loudly – but he surprised me, I couldn’t help it! “Shut the fuck up!” he said, playing into the aggression. He gripped my waist tightly and pulled my ass back onto his cock as he thrust. The table gave a loud “pop!” and began to creek with each of his thrusts. “Well fuck,” he complained. He pulled out of me. “Here, this” I pointed to one of the office chairs, a typical rolling office chair but with no arms. He sat down, his cock standing straight up, flapping against his abs. I straddled him and slid his cock back inside of me, each of us reeling in the pleasure. He especially liked this position, I could tell, as he moaned and groaned and breathed deeper than he did before. I gripped his shoulders tightly, trying not to moan too loudly, but his cock rammed my prostate as I rode him, sending lightning bolts through my nerves. “Oh my god, oh my god” I winced into his ear as he thrust. I could feel the sweat beads on our foreheads forming, and it was then that I realized how warm the room was, surely from us generating so much body heat. Before long, I could feel it. I was going to cum, but wasn’t stroking myself at all. Tucker hitting my prostate was about to make me blow my load! I gripped his arms tighter and whined into his ear, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby,” just as spurt after spurt of thick white cum flowed onto his abs. “Ahhh, aaaah, ahha, oh fuck” I groaned. “Ahhh fuck yeah, cum for me, oh yeahhh” he grunted as he thrust deeper into me. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, I’m gonna blow” he heightened his voice and gripped my ass. I rode him as I felt his cock tense and release, tense and release over and over as he spewed his warm cum into my ass. He winced as he continued to thrust into me through his orgasm, “ah, ah, ahhhh.” 

    I leaned back and looked at him. “What a surprise that was that was,” I said. He cocked his head and smiled, his sweaty forehead glistening, “You like?” We made out for a bit before having to get dressed and get back to work. For a short time I’d completely forgotten we were at work, secretly fucking in layaway. It had been a blissful half hour that had passed like light speed. Tucker and I said our goodbyes that night after work, but still stay in touch. What I’d give to go back to the beginning of summer and do it all again. 

  • A Different Path

    The quiet and loneliness was driving John Sandles to distraction and he couldn’t bear being in the house for any longer. Not that he was in an actual house. He’d been working on the room extension of his house on Sligo Creek nearly where the creek fed into the North River at the foot of the Appalachians to the west. The nearest town to him was Mount Solon, Virginia, a good five miles to the southeast. He didn’t really need the extra room now, which was framed and sheathed in rock up to his chest, the rock being Susan’s choice. The house itself was a two-room log cabin, the rooms being commodious enough–the bedroom with the loft overhead that he’d put stairs up to early in the winter, and the “everything else” room. The extension was to be his office. The loft was for the child and the children afterward until they could build on to the house. He didn’t need the loft now, and it remained unfurnished.

    Both Susan and the baby had died in a difficult childbirth late in the winter. John could have gone back East, over the Blue Ridge, back to some semblance of civilization then–back to Williamsburg. It had been Susan’s dream to go West, for him to establish his law practice in the Shenandoah Valley. He supposed that it was because that had been Susan’s dream that he couldn’t leave now–and that he had to finish the room for his law practice. Susan and the baby were buried out there, in the copse of chestnut trees near the creek’s edge. That was probably the real reason he couldn’t leave. He was bound to their graves.

    That and what he had left in Williamsburg where he had studied for the law at William and Mary. He had been indiscreet there. He had thought that what happened in the fears and frustrations of battle would be buried there, but that had not quite happened. Perhaps Mount Solon was far enough away for his indiscretions not to catch up with him. Susan had thought it would be. Susan had never given up on him.

    He couldn’t stay here longer today in the silence of the cabin, though, and he was tired of lifting rock into place in the frame for his office. It didn’t help that Susan had declared this, the golden days of autumn, as her favorite time of the year in the valley. The trees were changing their color, there was a nip in the air, and the creek had lowered enough that he could hear the babbling of the water over the rocks. Further up the creek, at Thad’s Mill, before the creek split, giving lesser flow to the Sligo, the water was still high enough to work the wheel.

    Thinking on that gave John the excuse he was looking for to pull himself away from the cabin and from the graves he could see from the cabin in the stand of trees. There had been so much for Susan to forgive and she had loved it here, saying it was a new path for them. It was penance for him to stay.

    But not for the rest of today. No, he had flour to pick up at Thad’s Mill. He had an excuse to pull away from here, if only for a few hours. He went to the shed and saddled up the horse. It was a good three miles to the mill. And the mill was located on the main road out of Mount Solon north and south, along the Appalachians on the western edge of the valley. He had heard talk that there would be a national census taken for the first time in the next year–1790–and census takers were being hired. As a lawyer, one of only a few in the Mount Solon area, he should be able to land that job. He could use the money as he established his law practice. The mill was the social center of the area this side of Mount Solon. He should be able to learn more about the census plans there.

    When he rode up to the mill, it too was quiet, which was unusual. In the stand of trees over by the road, there was more activity, as there often was. Two Conestoga wagons, their oxen out of the traces and watering in the creek, were pulled up beside the road, and five men, two women, a few children–who John couldn’t count because they were running all around the wagons–were gathered around a fire, cooking a meal. Just more settlers headed up for the Northwest Territory through the Cumberland Gap, where new settlement was under way farther west than John and Susan had come to settle.

    As John came off his horse, one of the men–a young, strapping tow-headed man a good eight years younger than John’s own twenty-six, he reckoned on first glance–stood up from the fire and strode to the edge of the road, giving John a close inspection. John tried not to notice, but his demons stirred. The young man was fair of face, as yet with nothing on his chin to shave. His hair was curly and fit his head as a halo, and his body was well formed. Although John was dark-headed and taller and more solidly built than this young man, he couldn’t help but think back to when he was that young and vulnerable–and about to enter battle and about to suddenly mature in so many ways. John turned and quickly moved into the dimness of the main mill room, calling out “Thadeus,” as he entered the chamber.

    A voice–one higher in pitch than Thadeus Wainwright’s–answered him from the wheel room, telling him the owner of the voice would be there shortly–that he was grinding the last of a job.

    Thad, John thought, Thadeus’s young son, given the abbreviated name to distinguish the father from the son–as Thadeus’s father, the originator of the mill, had been known as Thad, to maintain the same distinction with a name that had gone down the generations from one oldest son to the next oldest son.

    John felt the clutch of being in a trap. He wouldn’t have come if he had thought that Thadeus wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have come if he had known that the miller’s son, of the same age and aspect as the golden young man over at the Conestoga wagons other than being a redheaded version, would be the only one here.

    When Thad came out from the wheel room, he seemed a bit flustered, and it perhaps was just John’s imagination that the young man was hitching up his belt. He smiled when he saw John, though, and blushed a bit, a redheaded young man not being able to control the flushing of his face as one of another aspect could.

    “Hello, Mr. Sandles,” he said in a low, soft voice. “Have you come for your sack of flour?”

    “Yes, please, if you have ground what I brought in last week yet,” John answered.

    “We have it, yes. It’s just over here.” Young Thad backed away to a shelf area off to the side where several sacks of flour were being stored. He kept glancing back at John, though, and John felt he was flushing as well, although his darker coloring wouldn’t show it.

    “Is your father around?” he asked, hoping that the older Wainwright was just around the corner somewhere. “I thought to ask him what he knew about the organization of this census to be taken next year.”

    “No, sir,” Thad answered, returning to John’s side with a sack of flour. John wondered if it was his imagination that Thad maintained contact between their hands for longer than was required to pass the sack, but he didn’t really want to think about that. He shouldn’t have come, he now realized. He now realized that what had made him so jittery at the cabin wasn’t being lonely for his departed wife–it was more the frustration of another sort of loneliness that he had been saddled with through a spring and a summer. He should have known that was the problem as soon as his eyes had met with the blond settler across the road when he’d ridden up to the mill. But at least the young man who had risen to come look at him would be gone the next day. Chances were good that Thad would be here whenever John came to the mill. Perhaps, he thought, he should take note where the other mills were in the area where he could take his business, such as it was. He was a lawyer, not a farmer, so he only raised the grain he personally needed.

    “My father is in Mount Solon today. They are meeting to come up with a delegate to send to Richmond in the coming elections. I would have thought you would be there too.”

    “Was that today?” John asked. “I must have lost track of the days.” There was no lie in that. Living alone as he did, John had considerable trouble keeping track of the days. He hadn’t been in church on a Sunday since Susan and the baby had died. He hadn’t forgiven God for that yet. But perhaps he should start going again if only to have some index of how the days fell.

    “Well, I guess I will ride on over to Mount Solon then,” John said. “I have to talk to Mr. Haycock about the drawing up of his will anyway. I’ll ask about the census there.”

    “Does that mean you plan on staying in the area?–I mean if you are interested in the census being taken next year.” The young man’s voice had a hopefulness in it that he couldn’t hide. “I’d heard you were thinking of going back east.”

    “No, I plan to stay on here,” John answered.

    “I’m glad to hear that,” Thad said, his eyes and slight smile again giving away more than he probably intended.

    John touched his finger to his hat as a farewell salute and turned and left the mill–being afraid that, if he stayed, he’d give away more than he intended to as well. As he was getting on his horse and trying not to look at the blond young man still standing across the road and looking at him, John was surprised to see Seth Cooper, a farmer who lived nearby almost slink out of the door of the mill and do a double take when he saw that John, who had fumbled a bit at getting the flour sack hooked on his saddle, was still in the mill yard.

    John tipped his hat to Seth, who, with a guilty look tipped his back, and disappeared around the side of the mill. There were only the two rooms in the millhouse. Seth obviously had been in the wheel room with Thad when John had ridden up. John wondered why Seth hadn’t revealed himself before John left. But, then again, maybe he didn’t wonder at all. The thought didn’t relieve John’s own sense of frustration, though.

    * * * *

    “You have the roof on but not yet shingled.”

    John looked up at the sound of the voice. He had been boiling clothes in a cauldron behind his house, taking a break from carrying rock up from the stream bed to continue building up the wall enclosing his office. He was stripped to the waist. It was an Indian Summer day–too warm to do hard work all bundled up, but the air too crisp to remain bare-chested for long without physical exertion. John had built a working-man’s musculature. Starting a law office in Williamsburg would not have made the physical demands that clearing his own land and physically building his house and law office in the shadow of the Appalachians had. He had a laborer’s physique now–well-defined chest muscles, tapering down to a flat-bellied waist, tanned and with curly black chest hair swirling around his pectorals and descending in a line where it fanned out on his belly–and lower. His breeches were tight and sat low on his hips.

    “Aye, I had help framing the roof,” John answered the blond-headed young man standing between him and the in-progress addition project. “But I’ve had to put in the rock walls all myself, and I trust it will be the same with the shingles. Haven’t I seen you before–at Thad’s Mill? Weren’t you with a couple of wagons bound for the Cumberland gap?”

    “Yes, that was me, Mr. Sandles, but I was not part of those families, and I had a mind to stop here apiece before going out to the new territories.”

    “You know my name.”

    “Yes, I asked at the mill. I was told you were a man of learning. My name is Matthew.”

    “Well, greetings, Mr. Matthew,” John said, giving the young man a closer look, and feeling the old yearnings gripping him. He was so much like Cal–especially the way the sun caught his unruly golden locks and in his thin build. “Is that what brought you out here to my holdings–because I am a man of learning, as you say?”

    “Yes, sir, it is. I don’t want to go into the new territories without skills that will see me right. I thought to learn sums before I went. Thad, at the mill, tells me you are a man of the law–that you are college educated.”

    “Yes, I studied law at the College of William and Mary under George Wythe.” John looked at the young man, thinking the name of the great scribe of the Revolution would be recognizable, but there wasn’t such a reaction. “George Wythe, who taught law to the likes of our wartime governor Jefferson.” Still no notable reaction. He sighed. “My name is John to you as you wish to be Matthew to me. Where do you hail from, Matthew?”

    “The eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge. And I know of Thomas Jefferson well,” Matthew said, almost indignantly. “He hails from close to the hollow where I was raised. Did he learn his sums from this Wythe man?”

    “I imagine he learned his sums well before then,” John answered gently. “It is a good and useful thing to acquire such learning, though.”

    “You’ve raised the rock on your addition, I see, to the level where it would be better to have help to go from there to the roof, and I have nailed shingles to roofs before.”

    “Have you now?” John asked, realizing why it was the young man was here–what had brought him here to tempt John in his frustration. His mind raced on the possibility of hiring this young man on–but with what money? If John could have afforded the help in building this law office, he would have hired someone locally.

    “I can help you finish off your room,” Matthew said. “If you will teach me sums in the evening, I will work with you on this addition during the day. Just for a place to sleep–maybe in the shed over there–and a bit to eat.”

    John realized the temptation of the offer, but it was true that he had reached a point where help would be valuable. He couldn’t spend all of this time on the construction and have it finished before winter set in. His law practice was building, and that was crucial.

    “The shed is no place for you to have to sleep. The nights are turning cold. You’re welcome to sleep in the house and we will work on your sums there as well.”

    That evening, in the candlelight, the two men with their heads close together over the sums, John was surprised to find Matthew quick on the understanding. The lawyer also was disturbed, though, to find that putting their head this close together in the dim light of the candle had made him go hard.

    Seeing a scar on the back of John’s hand prompted Matthew to ask, “Were you in the war? Is that a war wound?”

    “Aye, I reckon that came from a .25 Long Rifle ball fired by a Redcoat at Yorktown,” John answered. “But it was just a graze. A man pulled me down just at the right moment, or it would have been worse.” Cal, he thought, looking at Matthew and remembering. “But, yes, I was in the war. My beginning was the war’s ending, though–at Yorktown–the fall of ’81. Eight years ago. It seems a lifetime. It was after that that I went to the college to learn the law.”

    “You joined that late?”

    “Aye. I couldn’t join before then. I was just eighteen. Same as you probably are now.”

    “I’m nineteen–or will be in November,” Matthew answered–again that slight tone of indignation. “I wish I’d been old enough to have been in the Revolution.” This said with some force.

    “I think you are lucky not to have been,” John said, with a sad sigh. “It was a time that took some of the best of us and scarred and scared the ‘you know what’ out of the rest of us. It did strange things to men–put them on a path they would not have gone on otherwise that was dangerous and fearsome.” He was looking into the more-pretty-than-handsome face of the young Matthew, wanting so much to run his fingers into that unruly mop of golden hair–but knowing that would be going down the wrong path. Again. Indeed, the fright of war brought out a great deal in a man that otherwise could be hidden forever.

    * * * *

    They had been hacking at the abatis, the bracken stretched along the pit in front of the British Number 10 redoubt at Yorktown, almost on the banks of the York River when Cal, slashing at the branches with his bayonet next to John, gave a cry and pulled John down. All of the young, dark and sultry, newly minted colonial soldier dipped below the bracken except his hand. He felt the sting as the bullet grazed his hand, and he called out in pain.

    “Where yer hit?” cried out the blond Cal–younger than John by two months but a more seasoned soldier than he by two years as he had lied about his age at his enlistment. He would do anything to get out of the oppressive apprenticeship at the stables outside Philadelphia. John, the son of a Williamsburg doctor, had been held back from the war by his doting parents until they no longer had a say in the matter.

    “Nowhere. It’s just a graze,” John answered through chattering teeth. It was cold in the middle of October 1781, but it was the fear of his first battle–an infantry assault on the Number 10 British redoubt being led by Alexander Hamilton–that had him scared and moving as if under water.

    That slight hesitating from getting through the abatis spared them the carnage of being in the first wave over the wall of the redoubt, and the fight was over soon after that, the victory Hamilton’s. The first there were told to hold the redoubt and the rest told to fall back into one of the two parallel trenches the revolutionaries had constructed during the one-month siege. John and Cal found themselves alone in a curve of the farthest trench from the redoubt, huddled together, pumped with adrenaline, but on the edge of the shock of the battle they both had just experienced.

    “I thought I’d lost you,” Cal whispered to John, taking the young man’s mouth with his to stifle what the terror in John’s eyes might bring forth from his mouth. John responded with a moan. Cal, always the aggressor, albeit the receiver, rolled over on top of John and moved his hands among the folds of their clothing to unbutton here and there and to free them to affirm life and satisfy the arousal of have survived battle by moving into the act that had been pressed upon Cal in the past by the stable owner he had been apprenticed to and had more lovingly then been taught to a frightened and overwhelmed new recruit, John.

    Positioning his buttocks over John’s crotch and continuing to cover the handsome dark man’s face with kisses of assurance, Cal took the first few inches of John inside him. Calmed, thrilled to be alive, and in deep need, John clutched Cal’s hips and aided in the rising and lowering of the blond beauty on his cock.

    All along John had rationalized that it was just a reality of the demon nature of warfare and would be fleeting. He was betrothed–indeed had been promised for years–to the daughter of another Williamsburg physician, Susan. It was only because there were only men in the army and the conditions were frightful and put men on the edge that John had been coaxed down the path with Cal. After the war, it would all . . . but it hadn’t all changed. After Yorktown John returned to Williamsburg to begin his studies with George Wythe at the college. But Cal had come to Williamsburg as well, and worked in a saddlery. It hadn’t all changed at all. It had just become furtive until people started to talk. Then, the two married, Susan said she wanted them to move west to start life anew–going down a different path.

    But Cal had been so sweet, his channel so satisfying, his kisses even better than Susan’s. John could try to salvage what he could by heading west, but he couldn’t forget Cal–lying under him once the war was past them, John finding confidence and greater mastery, Cal on all fours under him, with John mounted on his hips, penetrating the blond beauty deep, and pounding, pounding, pounding.

    John woke up in a sweat, despite the chill in the air. The fire was burning low in the grate. The covers were off him in the bed, and his hand was under the hem of his nightshirt, gripping his engorged cock and squeezing and stroking it, as he done for himself so many nights since Susan had died. The evidence of what he was doing was covered by the material of his long nightshirt, but he was on his back, legs spread and bent, and the movement of the material at his crotch left little doubt that he had been masturbating himself in his sleep–in his dream of being with Cal.

    He looked over toward the fire, spying Matthew stretched out on the pallet between him and the grate, covered with a blanket, but turned toward John, watching him. Matthew’s hand was under the blanket and from the rustle of that there was little doubt that Matthew was masturbating himself and he lay there, eyes open, watching John on the bed.

    With a groan, John turned over onto his side, facing the wall, facing away from Matthew and the glow of the fire in the grate, picking up the golden highlights in Matthew’s mop of hair, giving his head a halo.

    John finished himself as quietly as he could. When he turned back facing the fireplace, now under his blanket, Matthew was asleep–or was pretending to be.

    * * * *

    The nights were getting colder, increasing chill stealing into the cabin as soon as dark had fallen. The rock wall of the law office was completed now, and Matthew was working on shingling the roof. The teaching sessions were going well too. Matthew was a fast learner. The increasing cold of the evenings was bringing the two men closer to each other, touching each other, perhaps not always by chance, as they put their heads together over the paper on which John was teaching Matthew his sums.

    John woke up in the middle of one of his “Cal” dreams to find the cabin colder inside than ever before. It was darker too, the fire in the fireplace nearly out, hissing because of the rain coming down the chimney.

    Matthew was under his blanket, on the pallet, but his body was shuddering and John almost could hear the chattering of his teeth. As dim as light was, beyond the occasional flash of lightning visible in beyond the glazed-glass windows, John could see the condensation in his own breath, so he knew that Matthew must be suffering.

    “Come into the bed, Matthew. Or stoke up the fire at least.”

    “I’ll be fine, sire,” Matthew answering in a small voice. “I didn’t bring in enough wood this afternoon to keep the fire burning up. It’s my fault.”

    John’s heart lurched for the young man–and not just his heart. And Matthew had called him “sire.” A term of submission Cal had used after the war, when they settled down to a routine of John’s body dominating Cal’s. “It’s madness, Matthew. I am cold too. We must combine our body heat. We’ll both be comfortable enough then.”

    The young blond sighed and responded to the commanding tone in John’s voice. He climbed into bed and turned his back to John. This was not an uncommon practice at the time, and travelers on the road were known to share what beds there were with other men at rooms in the inns, calling themselves lucky to have a roof over their heads and a mattress under them at all.

    John, going to sleep with his back to Matthew, drifted off into a wet dream with Cal, coming at least partially awake to find that he now was turned toward Matthew’s back and was embracing him, spooning the younger, smaller man’s body in to his. Both of their nightshirts had ridden up on their bodies, and John’s hard cock was between Matthew’s thighs. Being so deep into his dream of fucking Cal that he didn’t want to lose it, John fought the urge to come completely awake, apologize, and turn his body. The urge won, encouraged by the mewing sounds and low moans coming from Matthew and the way that Matthew’s thighs were squeezing John’s cock and chaffing against it in slow waves of movement. Matthew turned his face to John’s and they went into a prolonged, deep kiss. John ejaculated between Matthew’s thighs and drifted off into sleep again–and into Cal’s arms again in his dreams.

    Above all else the two were warm enough now.

    John came further awake later in the night to find himself on his back and Hard. Matthew was straddling his pelvis, sheathing his cock in his channel, pressing the palms of his hands into John’s chest, and rising and falling of John’s cock.

    “Matthew,” John protested dreamily.

    “Shush. I have gone with men before,” Matthew murmured. “This is what I want; this is what I know you want. This is a path we can both take together for mutual pleasure and satisfaction. You invited me into your bed and showed me your real desires. No one need know but us.”

    With a groan of resignation, John gripped the lithe young blond’s waist in his hands and began to help raise and lower him on the cock, at first slowly, languidly, but increasingly lustfully, jerking him up and slamming him down, faster and faster, with Matthew crying out at the total taking and both of them exclaiming to the ceiling as one, after the other, they ejaculated.

    * * * *

    By mutual connivance, the instruction and the roofing of the office–and then the reroofing of the cabin and of the shed, was drawn out during the day, while John covered Matthew and relentlessly pounded on his body on the bed at night. Neither spoke of by day of what they did with each other in the dark of night.

    But after a couple of weeks John had to acknowledge that there was no more to teach Matthew of sums and all of the buildings had newly shingled roofs. John could tell as well that Matthew was hearing the call of the Northwest Territories ever more insistently. More and more wagon trains were going through. After Matthew had commented on the third one that had offered him room in the wagons for the extra rifle of protection, John swallowed hard and said, “You want to go, don’t you?”

    Matthew wasn’t quick enough to say no, so John said it for him. “You want a new life–a new, different path–in the new territories. We’ve reached the end of our path together, I think. I think you should go. Go back and tell the man with the four wagons that you will go with him.”

    “But will you be all right?” Matthew said.

    “I will manage,” John answered. He stood and watched as Matthew gathered up his few possessions in his bundle and walked, with strong steps, toward the road where the wagon train had settled for the night. Then he saddled his horse and rode to Thad’s Mill. He already knew that Thadeus was in Mount Solon that day. John had been invited to the citizens’ meeting there, as well, where it was to be announced that he was to head the census collection in the region the next year. But he had seen Matthew talking with the wagon master and knew that Matthew was ready to move on, so he had stayed at the cabin  to support Matthew in that decision.

    Matthew had asked him if he would go on a different path now. John hadn’t answered, because he knew he’d go on a new path, but no longer a different one. He’d made his decision about that.

    Young Thad Wainwright met him at the door to the mill, with a smile and a quizzical look on his face. “My father isn’t here. He’s in Mount Solon today. I thought you would be there too.”

    “I didn’t come for your father,” John said. “I came because I knew he wasn’t here today–that you would be at the mill alone. You knew when you told Matthew, the blond young man, about me what he wanted–why he was interested in me, didn’t you?”

    “Yes,” Thad said, lowering his eyes, his blush betraying his own interest.

    “I came for you,” John said, “If you want me to cover you–to take care of your need and mine as well.”

    Thad didn’t speak an answer. His answer came in taking John’s hand in his, brushing his fingers over the rough callous of the wound on the back of John’s hand, and leading John back into the darkness of the mill, toward the wheel room, as he began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.


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  • Watching

    Remember that first real crush, the one who made you acutely aware of your own sexuality, even if what it meant was still some mysterious aspect of being human.  But you felt it, that rush, the increase in heart rate, the pounding so loud you just knew those around you could hear it. It was frightening in a way, this awakening. For a twelve-year old boy looking at another boy two years older, it was terrifying.

    I knew Josh since first grade riding the same bus to school but that year was different, so very different. I was twelve and so confused about my attractions. The actors on television that I found appealing or other boys I played with that began to seem different, but it was Josh, on that first bus ride of my seventh-grade year, my first year of middle school, that made my stomach tie up in knots and heart race in my chest. He was fourteen and seemed so much older. He had grown taller over the summer, one of the tallest boys in his class, and he had let his hair grow out when so many of the others kept their hair cut close to the scalp. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tall gangly body as it moved down the narrow aisle, his eyes focused on the back of the bus, I knew he had not noticed me any more than any of the other ‘little kids’. I knew, in so many ways, it was futile. This attraction, toward another boy, an older boy, made me grow more introverted. Looking back, I knew it was a safety mechanism, a way to protect myself, both from others figuring out my attraction to other boys and an attempt to protect my own feelings.

    Then I was fourteen, grown tall in my own right. I mimicked Josh, letting my black hair grow out longer and wore jeans so tight I struggled to get into them. Some of the girls noticed, coming up to me saying some of the most mundane things trying to get my attention. I struggled not to roll my eyes. There was an urge to admit the truth, I wasn’t interested. There was one person I wanted to notice me. I wanted him to notice I had grown up, felt more man than child, but Josh didn’t notice me at all. He was sixteen, a real teenager, with a driver’s license. The driver’s license, a threshold between being a kid on a bicycle and being closer to a man who was free to go where he wanted. It was unimaginable, this divide. And it made riding the bus a torment. I sat in the back and stared out the window at the familiar scenery, field after field, and the pastures with cows moving slowly across heads down eating the grass. It was boredom made manifest. Nothing out there for a fourteen year to do and sixteen was two whole years away.

    I was in the same small rural county school as Josh, middle and high school sharing the same campus, but the layout and class schedules kept us apart. I kept my head down going from class to class, didn’t do anything to draw attention to myself. I had friends, those I trusted with anything, except for who I was as a person, a guy attracted to other guys. I didn’t dare. There was nothing else to it.

    I saw Josh during lunch or at the break mid-morning, sitting at a table with others of his class. He was right there, only feet away, so close I couldn’t take my eyes off him. But never more than me staring and him oblivious to my existence.

    It literally hurt.

    The next year, Josh now a senior and I in the tenth grade, where I found myself in a class with him. It was unbelievable, this stroke of luck. It was even more surprising when I tell you it was art. Imagine a bunch of farm boys in art class? Actually, there were only four of us and eight girls, and I the only tenth grader. It was odd at first, being the youngest with a class of five juniors and six seniors, but as class wore on I settled into it, finding myself pushing to do good, letting the paintings, the drawings or the clay works be daring, expressive. I was letting all the pent-up feelings come out, the frustrations, the fears, and the desires.

    I wasn’t particularly good, but the teacher complimented me on my efforts. But his highest praise went to Josh. Even I could see something in the way he drew, the way the charcoal or pencil moved over the paper, or the way he molded clay, as if releasing something from within wanting out. At times, I watched his hands move over the clay, fingers slowly working it. I watched the clay squeeze between them. Watched how he would pinch them together or fan them out, each time creating a new form, a new shape. I watched so closely I would fall behind in my own project imagining what those hands would feel like touching me, those fingers manipulating me. I grew aroused on so many occasions I knew my face would be red with embarrassment. But I got away with it because the others watched too. All of us were surprised at how good he was, how natural it seemed for him.

    Then the year was over and Josh graduated. That summer was a mix of emotions. I knew the object of my affections was gone, not literally, but for all intense and purposes, he was out of sight, no longer in the world I inhibited. For the first month it dragged, time seemed to move at half speed as I moped around more depressed than I would admit, nor wanted to for it meant I would have to acknowledge why. An attraction to another boy who was no longer around, one that didn’t return my affection in any way. Loneliness set in like never before, and suddenly I didn’t want the end of August to arrive, didn’t want to go back to school. Then the summer seemed to fly by. The more I dreaded the start of eleventh grade the faster the days seemed to pass by, till I found myself heading back to school. I was sixteen now, had my driver’s license and was driving my grandfather’s old Ford truck. He had gotten a new one and passed his old one to me. It was fourteen years old, the paint faded, the tailgate bent, and the a/c didn’t work, but it ran good. And it freed me from the bus.

    I did see Josh around the community, at fish fries by the volunteer fire department or at one of the small general stores buying a soda. I saw him in town at one of the fast food joints. And he acknowledged me when we passed each other, a brief nod and a ‘hello’. One time, he actually stopped me to ask how I was doing and how was school. I stammered at first but eventually held my end of the conversation. For a moment, I was relaxed enough to actually laugh at something he said regarding school. And he asked if I was taking art, that I had some talent and should not give up on it. I remember the look on his face when he asked and had to smile replying I was indeed taking art. It was my favorite class. And all too soon we parted ways, me watching him move away, all grown up, a real man now. How I longed for him, the way his body had filled out some, but still tall and gangly, the white t-shirt hanging loose on his frame and the tight jeans accentuating his long legs. I felt my heart beating hard in my chest. But I didn’t fool myself, didn’t let it mean anything, for I knew it didn’t. The whole conversation was too casual and he had walked away so easily, without a backward glance.

    Josh had taken up farming with his dad and therefore was still in the community, only a few miles away, but out here, it seemed like a larger barrier between us. I continued to help my dad on our farm, working all summer and when school started, some evenings and Saturdays. I didn’t play any sports, could care less about them, and for my dad that meant more time to help him. So, it went for two years, two very long years till one day I realized it was coming to an end, this twelve-year passage through school.

    The farming wasn’t bad, although I would have preferred doing something different from the usual soybeans, wheat, oats and corn. Out in a field, moving slowly across it, gave me too much time. Too much time to think, to create regrets, what ifs, and at times to fantasize what could have been. Josh played a role in all of it, one scenario after the next, ways it could have been different.  There was only one thing that could really take my mind off Josh and me being gay, this attraction to men in an environment where meeting them was difficult, and that was to do a repair on a piece of equipment. The getting my hands dirty, taking something apart and putting it back together in a way that it would perform correctly. To perform as it was designed. It was soothing and I found I was good at it, better than dad and soon he let me do all the repairs. That summer after graduation I pulled the old 4020 into the barn. We didn’t use it much for the clutch was nearly gone and it needed the motor rebuilt. I tore it apart covering the work bench with the motor components spread out so I could see what needed replacing and what was still good. I pulled the tractor apart to replace the clutch and for a long time the job looked impossible to my father and mother. It took all summer but by the time we were ready to harvest soybeans the tractor was put back together good as new.

    Dad ran the combine and I drove the truck, hauling load after load of the beans to the elevator for weighing and dumping into the pit where they were moved into one of the silos. We had been at it for two weeks, working through one field after the next, cutting late into the night until the moisture in the beans rose too high. On Saturday afternoon, making my way back to the field I came upon a grain truck on the side, hood up and someone standing on the bumper leaning over into the engine bay. As I came along side of the truck I slowed to a stop. I lowered the window, hit the horn and realized it was Josh when he rose up from the engine bay. He looked frustrated, grease smeared on each hand and up his forearm. He even had grease smeared on his face.

    “You need some help?”

    “Lamont, hey…I…well, can you figure out why this damn thing just stopped running?”

    “Maybe” I replied realizing I had an opportunity to be around Josh, no matter how futile it may be in the end. Parked on the opposite side of the road I was soon standing on the bumper next to him. “Does it turn over?”

    “The engine turns over fine, it just won’t start.”

    I tried to focus on the engine, tried to keep my eyes on the various components that could cause the engine to stop but time and time again I was looking over at Josh. He looked different. Hair cut short on the sides, but still long on top hanging down into his face. He wore a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and jeans so worn and frayed I could see the red boxers underneath through several rips around the pockets and side seam. Those jeans fit tight too, showing the round ass that filled them. I glanced over at him every chance I got, looked at his smooth skin along the side of his torso and down his arm. I looked at his arm, which wasn’t bulging like a body builder’s arm but more lean, taut, the arm of someone who does physical labor. I let my eyes move over the length of it, noticing the sun bleached blonde hairs on his forearm, visible only by the dust clinging to them, the long fingers, the way his bicep flexed with his every move and the sweat soaked dark hair in his armpit with the rivulet of sweat trailing down his side. And there was the strong jaw line, the sparse beard trying to come in along its edge, fading out before getting to his hairline. The shape of his nose, the slight hook in its profile and slightly upturned at its end. When he spoke to me I pretended to focus on what he was saying but really I was looking at his eyes, which I knew were a vivid blue.

    My heart raced in my chest as I tried to think, consider the variables that could make an engine suddenly stop running. I looked at the battery, the cables running to it, then over to the engine, looking at the wiring then up around the air filter and down to the fuel line and its small filter inserted in its length just before disappearing underneath the air filter.

    “When is the last time you change the fuel filter?”

    “Shit…I don’t know.”

    “Our old truck goes through them for some reason, so we change it constantly. Let me see if we have one in the glove box.”

    I hoped it was that simple, just a fuel filter, and from what Josh has said, it sounded like it. Tools on the wheel well and me half in the engine bay where I could reach the fuel line I soon had the old one off and a new one installed. Wiping greasy hands on an old cloth, I stepped back out onto the bumper. “Try it now.”

    Josh climbed into the cab and hit the starter. The engine turned over a few times then started up. He yelled ‘yes’, pumping a fist in the air.

    Tools put away and ready to go we stood in the middle of the road. I hesitated for some reason, couldn’t just casually say goodbye and leave. Josh looked down the road in one direction then the other then sort of toward me, but not in the eye.

    “Hey, thanks Lamont, I owe you.”

    “Don’t worry about it. Hell, that part is nothing expensive and it took no time at all.”

    “I know, but…hey, how long will it take you guys to cut your beans?”

    “We should be done by Wednesday or Thursday of next week. Why?”

    “We should be done by then too, Friday at the latest. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something. It has been boring as fuck lately and I was just wondering…”

    “Yeah…sure” I interrupted him.

    We traded cell numbers with plans to talk at the end of next week. For me it was an awkward conversation, so full of anticipation and hope for something more I stammered and rambled on while we loaded each other’s contact information. On the drive back to the field, I found my speed at times too fast and other times I was ten below the limit. I couldn’t concentrate, my mind was a jumbled up mess, trying to relive each moment, every comment, gesture, and movement by Josh, trying to read something into each one, some signal I may have missed before, hoping I was right, and afraid I was reading too much into it. And I slapped the steering wheel and uttered ‘pathetic’ out loud, to no one but myself.

    Everyday leading up to the end of the week I played out the scene, me stopping to ask if he needed help, the two of us hovered over the engine bay, me replacing the fuel filter. Each time I looked for a signal, some unspoken communication that there was more to it. I knew I was desperate for it to be so, wanted it so bad I could be misconstruing everything. But what if?  Could it happen with such a simple encounter? That one small event be the thing that brings us into contact and sets things in motion? It seemed ludicrous. But I was eighteen and he was twenty and the age difference didn’t seem such a barrier.

    I was early, of course, to the diner over in Jasper, the small town about twenty miles away. The diner was on the edge of town, a small place with a gravel lot, but it was probably the best food in the county and I was to meet Josh at noon. He had to go to Greenville for some part so I was to meet him here, where he would stop on his way back. I sat in the gravel lot fanning gnats watching other customers come and go and checking my watch constantly. 11:38. 11:42. 11:47. 11:51. It was ridiculous.

    Then I saw the familiar black Jeep pull in, top off, lift kit and large tires. I would know it anywhere, down to the small dent in the side just below the passenger door opening. Josh waved as he pulled in next to me.

    “Have you been waiting long?”

    “No…just got here. You get that part you needed?”

    “Nope. They had to order it” he replied as he climbed down and moved aside to let me get out. We walked toward the restaurant, an ambling slow walk, side by side. ‘Just two country boys out for lunch’ I thought when I saw our reflection in the window.

    This is where I tell you lunch was perfect. Tell you Josh flirted with me and we ended up back at his place. But that would be a lie. We stammered in our conversations, awkward moments that dragged on for an eternity. I was so self-conscious about my own awkwardness I didn’t really think about how Josh was the same. We bumped knees once and pulled apart as if shocked, both apologizing. He passed me the salt and I nearly dropped it, afraid to touch his fingers. And we talked mostly about farming, how we both wished our dads would farm something else, like vegetables to sell at one of the farmer’s markets in a nearby town or raise chickens for eggs, or anything but the same dull routine of soybeans, wheat and occasionally corn.

    Don’t get me wrong. I would not have traded that moment for anything. Any time with Josh was better than none…such was my crush. I knew that was what it was, just a crush.

    Somewhere between checking out and getting back to our vehicles the topic of working on tractors came up and I admitted how I loved to do the repairs and maintenance.

    “Really? You like doing it?” Josh asked me, then he nodded looking over my way. “You were quick to fix our grain truck the other day; I guess I should have realized it.”

    “It’s nothing really. I just like taking them apart and putting them back together.”

    “What about coming over next Wednesday and doing the repair on our old truck?”

    “Which truck?”

    “The old three-quarter ton Chevy we use to haul the fuel tanks. The front spindle on the driver’s side is bad and due to the age of the truck the parts store had to order one.”

    “That’s all it needs?”

    “Is that all? Damn. So, you want to help me or not?”

    “Yes..yes I’d love to help you” I replied, too eagerly I knew, blushing at the realization. Josh just smiled and nodded his head as he turned toward his Jeep.

    “I’ll see you Wednesday. Come over about one or so.”

    When Wednesday arrived, I was anxious beyond measure. Pacing back and forth in my room, taking out different jeans and shirts, realizing I was being stupid for I was going to work on their truck and should wear old clothes I wore around the farm. I threw on a pair of old jeans, worn and faded, frayed along hems and seams, so rough my mother kept threatening to throw them out. But they felt so good, soften and loosened to a perfect comfortable fit. Then I grabbed an old t-shirt, one that was gray in color and softly worn. The neck was beginning to fray and the fabric was stretched such it never fit exactly right, looking like it was trying to slip off my body.

    After a quick sandwich, I headed to Josh’s place.

    He lived in a house that had been his great aunt’s, a small simple house, a small porch on front and a full width screen porch across the back. I followed the narrow dirt drive to the rear and saw a new carport with Josh’s Jeep and an old Chevy truck, but not the one I expected. Looking across the rear yard into the barn, a structure twice the size of the house, with its large double doors swung open, sat an older Chevy up on blocks, hood up, doors open. ‘That’s the truck’ I thought as I headed toward it.

    Josh came out from some side room and around the truck as I came into the barn.

    “You made it.”

    “Yep…so this is it.”

    “Best damn truck on the farm, but it is getting old and starting to need too many repairs.”

    “Well let’s see if we can give it a few more years” I replied as I moved to the work bench to check the new parts.

    “I thought we could do the oil and filter while we were working on it.”

    “Okay.”

    Soon I had the old parts removed and installed the new. It didn’t take long to replace the spindle, get the brakes set back in place and the wheel on. Then I scooted under the truck to remove the plug in the oil pan. To get the oil filter I had to scoot back out a bit sliding on my back on the floor. Josh was preparing everything under the hood then I saw him move down next to me.

    “You almost got it?”

    “The damn oil filter has gotten too tight. Wait…I got it.”

    Old filter off and new one on, tightened to just a snug fit, I lay back and looked around the oil pan for leaks before sliding out. The barn was silent and for moment everything stood still. Then I felt it. The touch. Lightly, just above the waistband of my jeans. I froze, tried to control my breathing, not believing what I was feeling. Fingertips grazed my skin, moved slowly parallel with the waistband. It was almost ticklish and I struggled to control my breathing.

    Then the touch was gone.

    I lay there waiting for its return, then looked down to see Josh just frozen in place, squatted down next to me staring down at my stomach, fully exposed by my t-shirt having slid upward when I had scooted back a bit. Taking a deep breath, I slowly slid out from under the truck till I was looking up a Josh. He looked scared, afraid of how I would react. I tried to smile but my own fear made it weak. It seemed like a very long time, this moment of doubt, of neither moving or saying anything. Would I have to make the first move? I thought, and would it be the right one?

    “Why did you stop?”

    Finally, I found my voice, able to speak, even if just barely a whisper. I lay there, torso exposed, t-shirt rolled up to my arm pits. I felt the exposure, the odd sensation of nakedness, even though it was just my chest and stomach. Slowly, hand shaking, Josh reached out till his fingers were grazing the skin near my bellybutton. My breathing grew heavy, stomach heaving up and down. I watched that hand move upward, to the center of my chest then over to one nipple were the fingers circled it, rub the hardening nub till I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his wrist to stop the sensation, it too much, and sat up. Holding his hand against my chest I reached with my other hand and took him by the back of the neck. He came easily forward with my lead and our lips met.

    Then it all became a blur.

    Pushed back against the truck fender, Josh held me tightly, lips pressed together, bodies pressed together, moving back and forth and grinding together. I felt my arousal, growing harder and harder between us. Josh pulled my shirt off, then his own. Our chests came together, hot with our exertion, skin sensitive to every touch, the press of flesh to flesh.

    Josh pushed over the tailgate, me behind him, pressing against his ass. I felt him move beneath me, felt the push back as I ground my hardness against him. I kissed his neck. I bit his shoulder and fumbled with his jeans, undoing them. As I pulled them down I squatted down behind him and kissed that spot just above his boxers. I felt him push gently back against my lips. One foot then the other, I helped him out of the jeans, then I took the waistband of the boxers and slide them down. I kissed one ass cheek, then lightly bit the firm flesh. Josh moaned and stepped out of his boxers when they fell to his ankles.

    Naked, on his knees, Josh was before me, his cock angled up hard, the head wet. His fingers worked my jeans open, pulled them part and down along with my boxers till my cock bounced up hard, free of its confinement. I watched Josh take me in hand, his grip tight and my cock flexed with its hardness. Josh moved forward and I watched his lips press against the wet head, move along the shaft down one side, firm urgent kisses, down to the base then back to the head. Then he took me, lips parted, sliding down over my shaft. Inch after inch disappeared between them. I felt the heat of his mouth; the soft wetness engulf me. I struggled not to push forward, savoring the feel of his mouth on me.

    He sucked me, head moving back and forth as he worked my jeans down to my ankles. He didn’t even release me as he worked each foot free. His hands held my waist preventing me from thrusting inward. The hands kneaded each cheek, pulled them apart and pulled forward as he took me all the way, over and over and over. He was in control as he submissively took me.

    The old bench seat in the truck squeaked noisily beneath us. Josh on his back, head against the passenger door watching my every move. I was between his legs, one on the back of the seat and the other hooked in the steering wheel. I pushed into him feeling the tight opening milk my cock as inch after inch penetrated. Initially I fucked him slowly, pushed inward gently, feeling each inch squeeze into him. He was tight and I knew the penetration hurt at first. His body quivered beneath me with every push inward. Then he relaxed, his hands coming to my sides, guiding me to move with more urgency.

    “Fuck me…fuck me harder” he uttered through clinched lips as his hold on my waist tightened and pulled at my body.

    So, I drove into him harder till the seat squeaked and the truck rocked with our fuck. My cock sinking into him, every inch. It was what I was reduced to, this fuck. I drove into him, harder, faster, our bodies smacking together. I was burning up, my body hot with its exertions. Sweat covered my skin and rivulets ran down my chest and back. Drops rained down on Josh as I fucked him. His hands moved slickly over my back and sides. He became more vocal, his moans and grunts louder, louder than my own.

    “Fuck me Lamont…take me…” he stammered and cried out. “Please…”

    Too quickly I felt close and slowed. Leaning down I kissed him, felt his tongue push between my lips. There was an urgency to every move, every act, primitive, base, this need to pleasure each other, and I raised up and began to fuck again, quickly back to speed, my cock a blur as it piston in and out of him.

    “I’m going…to…come…” I stammered as I hammered his hole, slammed into him till the sound of our bodies coming together filled the barn.

    I lay on Josh, breathing hard, our slick bodies hot against one another. His hands move slowly up and down my back as I felt my erection subside and slip from him. I felt Josh’s erection press against my stomach and a renewed sense of desire overtook me.

    I lay on the seat, my ass right at the opened driver’s door, Josh holding each leg against his shoulders as he drives into me, his thick hard cock penetrating me, over and over. I feel him sink into me, deeply, a sense of fullness, our bodies connected. I stretch out on the seat, push my hands against the passenger door and push. Every muscle seems stretched taut. When Josh presses against me, cock sunk all the way inside me, I feel my nakedness, the hot humid air against my sweaty skin. Everything is hot, slick with the exertion. This is the fulfillment of my fantasies, spread out before Josh, open to him, giving myself to his need. I feel every touch between my legs. I feel every inch moving inward and back out, the piston movement getting faster and faster. Josh grabs by thighs and pulls me tighter to his chest as he grinds his hips against my ass, working his cock deeply into me.

    “Fuck” Josh utters as he jerks against me, short jabbing motions as he releases inside me.

    The barn closed up, the sun low in the western sky and we’re inside under the cool spray of the shower. All afternoon we spent in that hot barn. We lay in the bed of the truck holding each other. We moved from one place to the next fucking. We fucked till we were spent, exhausted beyond belief. Our clothes in hand we slipped across the rear yard naked, skin glistening with our last exertions, that one last fuck in the cab of the truck. Then we were in the shower, hands roaming over the other, cool water cascading down our bodies washing away the sweat, the dirt and the remnants of our sex. Josh pushed me against the wall, pressed his body against mine, as he kissed me. Tongues dueling, lips pressed together, then mine sliding over his jaw and neck till I could nibble at his earlobe.

    We crashed on his bed, feet twisted in the sheet and bodies intertwined together. The cool air felt good against my exposed skin, made the gentle warmth of our bodies pressed together comforting. Light filtered through the blinds, and moved up the walls as the sun set, bringing on night. When it arrived, we were unaware, lost in a deep restful sleep.


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