Author: admin

  • Are You Afraid of Me, Boss?

    Are You Afraid of Me, Boss?

    =-=-=-=-=-=-=

    Can you think of a duller office job than being the junior-most “technical associate” to help deal with the software/systems side of medical billing processes for a medium-sized hospital?

    Me neither. 

    But it seemed like it would pay pretty well, and frankly there aren’t a lot of opportunities for me here in Nashua, New Hampshire.  Nashua, a town that likes to think it’s a small city, up here in the northeast corner of the USA. 

    So, here in the job interview, I expressed interest.  Enthusiasm, even. I laid down the bullshit and spread it extra-thick: “What I like about this job – from the sound of what you’re saying – is the curiosity factor.  You get to dig in there and figure out what’s wrong, and you get to solve problems, and help people do their jobs, help make the system more efficient.  I’ve always been a problem solver, so I like that.  Besides… I was born here.”

    I’m Paul.  And that last bit was true, I really was born in that hospital, 24 years ago.  Now I’m two years out of college, and I’m in a jam because my first job – for a small medical/high-tech startup – is on the skids. The young company is blowing through its venture capital funding far too quickly and making big mistakes at the top.  Probably because it’s being run by “kids” not much older than me.

    And, saddled with $60K in student loan debt and payments due every month, I’m also stuck living with my parents up here in New Hampshire, which is why the startup company (located nearby) seemed like a good fit.  But now that place is falling apart.

    So I’m sitting here at 9:30am on a Thursday, interviewing in a sportcoat and dress shirt and nice trousers, and I’m trying to impress this pleasant, friendly, nice-looking gay guy named Russell.  I fucked up and called him “Russ” at the outset, and he smiled cutely and said “Well – actually – it’s Russell.” He said it sweetly, almost apologetically.  He seemed to really, really want me to like him.

    Everything about Russell is good and earnest and nice and kind, and I realize immediately that he’s gay.  A homo, like me – sort of.  I mean, yeah, we do have that in common, but I’ll make the obvious point here: two men who are sexually attracted to other men can turn out to have very different personalities.

    Let me describe Russell. Imagine this really wholesome, innocent-looking gay kid in high school.  He’s a good boy, a people-pleaser.  And imagine he gets good grades and all his teachers like him, and he actually likes school, and maybe he’s the Student Council Vice President or some shit like that.  Imagine he’s all cute and twinky, with nicely styled sandy-blond hair and big brown eyes and perfect skin, and most of his close friends are girls, and he sits with them at lunch, and there’s a lot of bubbly laughter. 

    Now take that nice, gay “good boy” and imagine him all grown up, a decade and a half later… at age 30 or 31. He’s a young office-department manager with an MPH (Masters in Public Health degree). That’s Russell.  He probably either has a nice suburban house with a garden and a husband and two dogs, or he wants to.  His hair is still perfect and his skin is still perfect and he’s still all cute and earnest and kind and nice looking.  His body is quite fit and athletic, probably from regular gym workouts and cardio/spin classes, yet there’s something ornamental about it, and his hands are pretty. He’s probably never done actual grunt-and-sweat manual labor in all his life. 

    I give Russell some direct and sustained eye contact a few times during this job interview, because I know the effect it has on some gay guys when I do it to them.  And I think it’s working – he flinches and looks away, and smiles very politely and describes the department some more, or he asks me another nice easy question with a friendly smile.  I can tell he’s gonna offer me the job.

    Me, in a nutshell: I have a lot of sexual energy. Always been this way.  And my body has just always wanted to fuck something, ever since I started to hit puberty.  A funny true story: for a whole year when I was age 13, I used to hump the mattress and cum all over it, and it was my private favorite thing to do. I thought that was what they meant by “masturbation.” Jacking off with my hand came later, as an add-on, and I still liked fucking the bed better. 

    So, yeah, I’m a top; sexually it is what I was made for – and it doesn’t hurt that I have a big swinging dick to match.  I’m six feet tall, kind of lean but strong and fit enough, and I’ve got a decent looking masculine face, hazel-green eyes and dark hair and a few days’ scruff across my face and jaw… I’m not a 10 in the looks department but I get my share of attention. But it’s really my sex vibe and big dick and cocky attitude and my abilities as a fuck machine that keep the boys (and men) wanting it, and they come back for more. 

    I’ve always had a rebellious side and a twisted edge to my personality.  I was “bi” for a while in high school, but more and more I got hooked on that primal animal thing that I feel when I’m fucking a guy deep up the ass, and making him go wild with intensity – and that became all I wanted to do. One thing that really gets me off is messing with a hot boy (or man) who wants things he’s afraid to ask for – I know what those things are, and I know how to push that edge, how to make him say and do shit he’s never said and done before. How to reduce him to a begging, whimpering fuck-toy that’s mine, all mine. 

    Russell’s eyes widened a little and his lips parted slightly when I took the wheel, as our interview concluded.  “Good to meet you too, Russell. I’ll just tell you now: I want the job, I’m a good fit for it, and I’m 100% interested. I’ll email you to confirm.” 

    I did.  And the job offer came the following Tuesday.  And they gave me $5K more than what I expected.

    =-=-=-=-=-=-=

    I don’t use Facebook much – it’s been turning into a holding tank for lonely people and everyone’s parents – but it still has value sometimes.  Russell gave me his business card at the end of the interview, so I had his last name. Within ten seconds I found “Russell Nielden”, living nearby in the small town next to Nashua, and it turns out we have four Facebook friends in common.  One of them is Jimmy, a good friend and occasional past fuck buddy of mine.  So one night I got Jimmy to tell me some stuff…. after I plowed him good, like old times, and got him slightly stoned.  Jimmy’s so fucking adorable.  Furry little 5 foot 7 cub with a nice thick compact body, and he was always down for it when I wanted some.

    “So yeah I got this new job at the hospital, and I start next week. It’s gonna be great.  My boss is Russell Nielden, gay dude, lives around here… you know him?”

    “Oh wow – Paul, that’s excellent. And your boss is Russell!”  Jimmy was a little high and still in a state of wiped-out bliss, from how good I’d fucked him earlier.  We had washed up, post-sex, and then tumbled back into his bed. Now we were just laying there naked, snuggling and talking, and catching up on life while one of my hands gently twirled and stroked the soft fur on Jimmy’s chest.  He went on about Russell. “He’s the nicest. We became friends through his ex but… well, then we lost touch. Breakup stuff… you know how it goes.”

    It wasn’t hard to get Jimmy to spill the whole story.

    “… And so it turns out, or at least this is how I heard it: Russell really wanted the two of them to eventually be a married couple and have kids and all that. And so that freaked Mike the fuck out, I guess. ‘Cause one day Mike suddenly announces he’s moving to New York City – and that he’s been cheating on Russell, hooking up all over the place, and he just wants to be free. Buh-bye Mike. Ain’t seen you since.” 

    I snuggled Jimmy tight and kissed him roughly on the neck.  “Interesting.  I kinda picked up on some of that in the interview.  The nice wholesome good-boy thing.” 

    “Yeah but he’ll probably be a great manager.  Like, super easy to work for.  I can’t even imagine Russell ever getting mad at you about anything.”

    =-=-=-=-=-=

    It was true.  Russell was easy to work for.  But, goddamn, what a fucking dull place to work.  Each day in the hospital administrative offices just seemed to drag on forever…. hour…. by… hour.  Almost nothing interesting ever happened.  I actually missed the dysfunction and chaos and adrenaline of the startup company, even though it was collapsing and I barely got out in time.  To help pass the hours, I started digging into problems with the medical billing software and ways I thought the hospital could do stuff better.  And I’d send Russell a memo about it every once in a while, and he’d thank me and sometimes send it on upward to his boss, Corrine the Vice President.

    I couldn’t resist fucking with Russell a little.  We almost never met privately one-on-one; it was usually just a weekly staff meeting.  Russell the nice cute gay middle-manager with his little department of six, including me, around a conference room table.  Once in a while when I had questions or an idea, I would stop into his office and talk.  And it was fun to give him looks and use a tone of voice that’s borderline-inappropriate for the office, while discussing the most banal shit.  

    I’d be saying “So we could just delete those two columns, then re-run the report and sort it by patient zip code…” while I’m looking deep into his kind brown eyes and speaking in a lower voice than usual, with an energy coming off me like Want me to fuck you, Russell? I’ve been noticing that nice round man-ass of yours in those slim fitting pants. Want me to pull ‘em down and just take that butt and fuck it good? Yeah that’s right, of course you do.

    And he’d try to just stay in the conversation, but he’d get flustered and his cheeks would blush just a little and he’d have to look away from me. It was so fucking funny and cute.  And he couldn’t do a thing about it – everything I said was job-related and normal and appropriate. Just talking about a patient-data report, right?  Maybe Russell was… imagining things

    I could tell it was getting to him, as the first couple of months passed.  He tried to always act 100% professional and reasonably friendly to me, but sometimes in a staff meeting, someone else would be talking and then I’d glance at Russell to see that he’d been staring at me.  And those big brown eyes of his would panic in that split-second of connection with mine, and he’d look away in a flash. Ha ha. Busted!

    He stayed shy around me though.  One afternoon I was taking a piss in the men’s bathroom, nobody else was in there… and Russell walked in, and instead of stepping up to the other urinal right beside me, he darted quietly into a stall and started pissing in there.  Too bad, boss – you could’ve had a good look at this big thick dick of mine.

    In a way, I can blame porn for the way things escalated – or more accurately, the way I chose to escalate things – after this. Like I said, my sex drive goes through the fuckin’ roof sometimes; it’s just the way I am.  I probably think about sex at least half of each waking day.  And I’m stuck in this boring office job and trapped living with my parents because of student loan debt.  So, being the constantly horny fucker that I am, hooking up and fucking guys is my #1 outlet… and #2, close behind it, is watching porn.

    And so, is it my fault that there’s a new dude in gay porn who happens to look a lot like Russell? I mean, it’s not him. But the resemblance is close enough to turn me on in a new way.  Because this guy, man, he has a true porn-star quality ass and he’s one of the hotter guys SeanCody.com has found in recent years. And… he LOVES to get bred.  He looks all clean and handsome and sweet as apple pie, but on camera this man is a hungry fuck-slut who can’t get enough hot raw dick inside him — the deeper and harder the better. He goes to fuckin’ heaven when a man cums inside him and he feels it.  And he really does look like Russell, maybe a couple years younger but very similar.  

    So yeah, maybe I tracked down and pirated every scene of his that I could get my greedy paws on. And maybe I gathered them all into one place on my 2TB porn drive, and maybe I named the folder “Take it Russell”.  And maybe I watched those scenes… often.  And maybe just clicking into my porn folders and seeing that phrase – Take it Russell – on my monitor, would be enough to make my big dick start to get hard. 

    And so maybe the stuff that happened as a result is my fault… and porn’s fault.

    Friday was rainy and the office was even quieter than usual, and I was climbing the walls.  I decided today was the day to fuck around with Russell a little more.  I stopped in.

    “Hey boss – got a couple minutes?” I like to call him boss, in a teasing and ironic way; he may be my manager but his personality is so un-boss-like.  And now he can’t say no to me, he’s just sitting there behind his computer doing whatever it is he does, and doing it with no sense of urgency.

    I gently swing his office door shut with a click, and I take a seat in his guest chair.  I look into his eyes and see a hint of rising anxiety.  Russell looks good today, maybe a new haircut or something.  I smile. “So – I want to ask you something.  Just to make sure everything’s good.  Are you afraid of me, boss?”

    His eyes widen for an instant and then he regains his composure and laughs, a little awkwardly.  “What? Uh, well, I’m sorry Paul, if I ever gave you a wrong impression. Everything’s fine.” 

    But you didn’t say no, I’m thinking. “Cool. Just wanted to ask.”

    I pause. Silence hangs in the air between us.  I continue and smile, speaking now in my lower sexier voice.  “Also – we’re on the same team, you n’ me. You know what I mean.”  

    Russell’s eyes widen with a hint of surprise, then he smiles uncomfortably. “Oh – I’m sorry, I don’t usually discuss that kind of thing in the workplace.”

    I grin. “I’m not your usual discussion partner.”  And my eyes are looking direct into his like, Russell, if you wanted, I could be inappropriately fucking you. You could be inappropriately riding my big dick.

    “Anyway thanks. For hiring me. I like it here. See ya.” And before he can say anything else, I get up and open his door and leave. 

    =-=-=-=-=

    That night I drove almost all the way to Boston (an hour south) for a hookup that I really thought was gonna be great, but it was a disappointment.  Long story there, but I knew it was a failure when, mid-fuck, I found myself wishing I was home in my room alone and jacking off to porn.  More specifically, I wished I was jacking off to images of Russell’s look-alike getting pounded vigorously on SeanCody.com’s leather sofa.  Hours later, that’s what I was doing – and that orgasm was a better one for me.  No awkward conversation afterward.

    That was late July.  The whole month of August, my job stayed as boring as ever. And I could tell Russell was getting even more edgy and twitchy around me.  One time in a group meeting, I glanced over at him and he was just staring at me again and softly biting his lip.  As usual his eyes darted away quick.  But I noticed they held the stare just a second longer than usual, this time, before breaking it. 

    There were some other moments like this, here and there, over the next few weeks.  Subtle.  But detectable.  One day toward the end of the month, I walked into the employee kitchen and Russell was heating up something in the microwave.  He knew I was there, we said hi, and then he kind of bent down to check on his food and re-start the microwave – and it seemed to me like maybe he was thrusting his butt out toward me a little more than he had to.  It was right on the edge for me: was he doing this, or was I just hungry to believe it.  That ass of his always looks so good if you’re a butt lover, which I definitely am. It’s so fit and shapely and round. Fuckable, and that’s an understatement.

    Around this same time, something else was going on that could change my life.  This hot older guy I fucked a couple of times down in Boston – he actually came through on something he promised to me. I didn’t think he would, but he did it: he set me up with a job interview at his company in the city, and it went great, and I got that same feeling: they’re going to offer me the job.  And it’s a lot more money.  Enough that I could move out of my parents’ house and down to Boston.

    They say it’s foolish to count your chickens before they hatch. But in my mind those chickens were strutting around and clucking real loud.  I’m about to get that amazing new job and get a place of my own!  I felt really stoked.  Enough so that I decided, fuck it, I’m gonna leave this dull hospital up here in Nashua; I might as well push things with Russell.  

    By now I was clear about my urge to actually fuck him, for real – it wasn’t just a lightweight game anymore.  I wanted to do him, and I was ready to at least try to make it happen. In the back of my head I knew caution would be wiser in this situation, but I was so fuckin’ bored and, as I often do, was thinking with my dick.

    It was very quiet, the Friday before Labor Day holiday weekend. Almost half of the office staff were out.  And I was betting that I’d get the job down in Boston and be outta here within a few weeks anyway.  So I went for it.

    “Hey boss, I want to discuss something if you’ve got a couple minutes.”  Again that cute anxious look in his big brown eyes.  I step in, close his office door and drop into his guest chair once again. I lean forward in the chair, my eyes looking into his for a moment.

    “Russell. You know – sometimes I glance over at you during meetings and stuff, and – guess what I notice. You, staring at me.” I wanna fuck you, Russell. And you know it, every time our eyes meet.

    Now he’s all uncomfortable.  He just sits there and says nothing, though. I think he’s caught in shock at where this conversation is heading.

    My voice gets even more low and quiet, soft. My dick, in contrast, is starting to thicken and grow between my legs as I sit in his office chair.  “So – it’s just the two of us in here. You n’ me.  Alone, in this little space.  We could talk about… whatever the fuck we want.”  Russell’s eyes widen at my use of profanity. 

    “I say this because… I’d like to talk to you inappropriately right now. Just you n’ me.  Private. If I have your consent.”  Balls-deep inside you, boss. That’s where I wanna be.

    Jennifer from Accounts Payable walks by and continues around the corner, her high-heel shoes clop-clopping faintly outside the closed office door.  Russell stays silent, but his cheeks are beginning to flush a pink-rosy color.  He’s just sitting there in shock, with his open collar dress shirt, his neatly styled sandy-blond hair, his fresh clean-shaven face with the hint of golden brown stubble across it.  He looks into my eyes and then looks down, away. My big cock is fully hard now in my pants. And I notice a fresh little bead of sweat forming up on his temple, the edge of his forehead.  Fuckin’ hot, to see that, see what I’m doing to him. I did ask for consent.  And I don’t hear you saying no.

    I begin.

    “I’m a top.  You understand what I’m sayin’ here. Top. I like to fuck.  And I want you to know… in my eyes, in my opinion… you’ve got a beautiful ass.  I check it out every chance I get.” 

    Russell’s face continues to heat up and blush red, and he literally gulps. I’m sitting right there and I see the muscles of his throat move and slide.  He starts to speak but he can’t get words out. His eyes are full of intensity and confusion.

    “You want me to fuck you sometime, Russell?  You want it?  I’d give to ya real good.”

    He’s been half-holding his breath, and finally he gasps out loud.  “Paul – please – stop. We need to end this conversation.”

    “Okay boss. I’m gonna get up real slow now. Take a good long look at what’s between my legs…”

    And I slowly rise from the chair, and stand right in front of him, my back to the hallway, my pants just a few feet from his face.  My dick is massively hard and straining against the fabric of my trousers. It looks like I’ve shoved a cucumber down in there.   Russell tries not to stare at it, but stare he does, even as he’s telling me to stop. “Paul – that’s enough!”

    I slide a hand down and tap one fingertip on the mammoth tent in my trousers. “Yeah, it’s definitely enough. Happy to prove it to ya sometime.”  And I reach over and pick up a couple of file folders from a stack on the far corner of Russell’s desk.  “Borrowing these, for cover.  I’ll drop ‘em off later.”

    And out I go, leaving Russell’s office door open. His folders of random paperwork cover my huge erection as I stroll back to my assigned office-drone cubicle.  I don’t look back.

    When I come back mid-afternoon to drop off his folders of paperwork, his office lights are out.  Russell has left for the day. I chuckle, hoping it’s just an early start to his holiday weekend, and I wonder if he’s in a bar or a therapist’s office somewhere.  Hopefully not in an attorney’s office.

    =-=-=-=-=-=

    Then, shit, everything went to hell, I didn’t get the new job in Boston… ha ha, just kidding.  I knew I’d get it.  The very next workday, Tuesday morning after Labor Day weekend, the offer came.  Amazing – a salary of $63K and four weeks’ paid vacation. 

    Russell, it turned out, was away on two extra days of vacation, but I wanted to give notice immediately.  So I emailed my news to him and the vice president, Corrine. Then I verbally told my immediate team of co-workers… and I waited for Russell to come back on Thursday.

    Last time I saw him, I was turning and walking out of his office with a huge boner in my pants.  Now I’ve resigned from my job, and I’m leaving a week from Friday.  I wondered how it’d go if I stop in to try to talk with him again. 

    Russell didn’t look at me when he came into the office and walked by my cubicle area on Thursday morning.  A half-hour later, he “replied-all” to my resignation email. His words were brief and reasonably friendly. 

    “Best of luck to you with this new opportunity, Paul.  You contributed a lot to the team in your short time here.”

    I decided to give him a day’s mercy and stop in to his office tomorrow, Friday, instead. 

    Early afternoon on Friday seemed like a good time.  The usual chain of events: I knock, come right in before he can say no, then I close his door and sit down in his guest chair. 

    Russell speaks first, this time. “Well. Congratulations, Paul. But I also want to say — what happened a week ago was completely out of line.”

    I grin, mischievous and cocky. What the fuck; I’m leaving this place. “Maybe. But it did turn you on.” 

    “And now this is out of line.  Paul – I don’t, this is not—“

    I cut him off, my voice low and firm.  “True or false: It turned you on. And now you can’t stop thinkin’ about it.” 

    Russell’s handsome face is starting to blush again. He puts a hand up and looks away from me. “Conversation over. Good luck in Boston.”

    I laugh. “Aw gee, thanks. Listen: you know I’m outta here next Friday. I move down to Boston that same weekend. Already got an apartment.” 

    Russell remains silent, sitting before me, but he’s breathing just a little harder than normal. His cheeks are getting a little more flushed with color and heat.

    I lean in and speak again, more softly. “Say yes to me, boss. You won’t regret it.”  Then I get up and go.

    =-=-=-=-=-=

    That weekend I start to pack up my childhood bedroom and get ready to move to Boston.  I’m really excited.  In some ways it feels like college was this big step into freedom and adulthood, but then I took two steps back living with my parents afterward.  Sometimes I feel so fuckin’ restless and pent-up like a caged animal.  I can’t ever fully relax, can’t ever really do what I want when I want to.  And I don’t feel so proud when I have to tell people that I still live “at home.”  I turn 25 next March.  I’m a man, not a boy. And I’m ready to make my own fucking definition of “at home”, and ready to do it in a new city.   

    I’m thinking about Russell a lot, though.  And I watch those porn scenes again, watching his look-alike getting pounded down and loving it.  And again I imagine me fucking him for real, grabbing that chance before I pack up and leave town.  I cum so fucking hard, watching one of these scenes, and it’s a challenge not to yell and wake my parents down the hall.  I spend some time thinking about when exactly I should pop into Russell’s office again, next week – and what to say when I do.  I’ve really pushed it, and maybe pushed it too far.  But I’m gonna try one more time.

    On Monday, at work, Russell and I barely cross paths at all.  It’s a long dull day… and it reminds me how glad I am to be moving on.  Four days to go.

    But on Tuesday morning, during our weekly “team huddle” in the conference room, there’s a moment again when somebody else is talking, and I glance over at Russell, and he’s just staring directly at me. And this time the look I see in his eyes is vivid, intense, like the witnessing of raw emotion. 

    He catches himself and looks away, but our eyes have met.  I saw the way Russell looked at me.  And he saw me seeing it.  He was feeling something, that’s for damn sure.

    I decide that tomorrow, Wednesday, is when I’ll go talk to him again.  I want to fuck that ass of his so bad, just one time. Gotta try, I tell myself… and tomorrow’s the day.

    Then just before noon, as I’m just sitting there bored at my cubicle-desk area… my phone extension rings.  It’s an internal call.  I pick up.  

    To my surprise – it’s Russell.  He’s my boss but he has never phoned me before, in my five months here.  “Hi Paul – if now’s a good time, could I speak with you for a moment?”  I tell him, sure, I’ll be right over.

    When I enter his office and close the door and sit in his guest chair, this time it feels different.  Up to this point I’ve been calling the shots, playing these games with him.  But now I’m here because he summoned me – and it’s clear from the look on Russell’s face, he’s got stuff he wants to say.

    “First: I just want to make sure, this is an absolutely confidential conversation?”  Of course, boss.

    “Okay. Well – I don’t know how to – okay, I’ll just say it: I called you in here because I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t concentrate, I can’t focus on anything, I don’t know when you’re going to come barging in here again and start… talking that way to me.”

    I’ve never seen Russell so upset, so worked up like this.  Part of me is turned on and part of me feels bad for him. “Hey – I’m sorry boss. I don’t mean to cause you suffering.”  I pause – then grin.  “But your ass is so fuckin’… damn, I just wanna put my name on it.”

    He surprises me by releasing a tight burst of laughter, even as he’s upset. “My god, you’re relentless.”

    “Yup.” My big dick is growing, once again, in my pants. 

    We pause and just look at each other.  My eyes hold his gaze and this time he holds it in return. You down for it, Russell?  Finally gonna let me give it to you?

    I break the silence. “You wanna hang out with me, tomorrow night?”

    He surprises me again.  “Well – I was thinking, actually – Thursday night is better for me.”

    Jesus Christ on a gold platter.  Did I just hear that right?

    I did.  We both break into slow, mischievous smiles, me and Russell, alone together in his office.  Our own private two-man conspiracy. 

    I say, real quiet but with full-throttle sexual intent, “I can’t wait to be inside you, boss.” 

    Russell puts a hand up in mock defense. “Stop, and get out of here before I lose control.  I’m serious.” 

    We can’t stop smiling.

    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    I’m not stupid.  If you’d asked me to think about it, I would have said no. No, I have no reasonable expectation that hooking up with Russell is going to be like the porn scenes I’ve been watching on SeanCody.com. 

    But I didn’t think about it.  And I’d jacked off maybe 50 times, to images of his porn lookalike getting bareback-fucked with moaning howling delight and piggy enthusiasm. So I ended up being surprised at how different it was from porn scenes.  Me, getting intimate with Russell the actual person.  My boss from work.

    First, I knew from Facebook that he lived in the town next to Nashua. But the address Russell gave me for Thursday night is two towns further out than that, and when I map it on my GPS, it looks to be on a remote road out in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. 

    Driving at night, down dark roads that curve a winding path between a million trees, I turn on the high beams. I take out a piece of mint gum to chew on.  Homes out here are few and far between, little pockets of soft light in long stretches of woodsy darkness.  I pull up to the correct mailbox, #203, then drive up the driveway and around one last curve to find a cozy, private stone-and-wood cabin. It has large glass windows on one side, and a large chimney coming out the back.  The night air feels cool and fresh as I step out of my car. 

    The door opens as I walked up to it, and there stands Russell, smiling, in a dark-red cotton shirt and casual denim jeans.  I say, “Wow. Cute place you got out here.”

    He continues smiling, he looks so freakin’ happy to see me.  “Well – it’s not mine.  My friend rents it out as an AirB&B and he owes me a favor.” 

    I step up to Russell and tug on the belt-loops of his jeans and move in close, face to face, almost kissing him.  My mind connects some dots. “So this is what you meant by Thursday night working out better. And we’re way out here in the woods, at your friend’s place, in case you end up makin’ some noise?”

    Russell laughs.  He smells really good, close up. “Maybe.”

    I grab his butt with both my hands and lay claim to it. Mmm. Feels so fuckin’ good to finally hold that ass. “Maybe,” I repeat back to him.  And we kiss, and kiss, and kiss, standing just inside the doorway, my two hands caressing and squeezing that firm round butt.  Russell has lifted a hand to my face, and his fingertips are stroking my facial scruff and my ear and neck, sensually, as we make out.

    The main part of the cabin is a big high-ceiling living room, with thick dark wood crossbeams and a huge stone fireplace and chimney going up the side of the house.  Russell invites me into the room. The air is full of the smell of wood, and there’s a large pile of firewood ready to be lit.  “I know it’s still mid-September, early for a fire – but, in case we want one…” Russell motions to the firewood.

    We start messing around, though, and horniness takes over; spending the night sitting in front of a fireplace is not on our minds.  I pull Russell’s shirt off; his body is nice and toned and fit, with a light spread of hair across his chest.  My dick is hard in my jeans and I try to adjust it for comfort but it’s a big one. I guide his hand to my belt buckle. “Go on, set a dick free.”

    “Glad to,” he says, and as we continue pulling each other’s clothes off, we tumble onto a large L-shaped sofa and keep making out.  Soon we’re both buck naked and he’s rock-hard too.  His cock is a nice one, average size and cut with a nice big head on it, and big balls that swing below it.  My own thick long 9-inch uncut dick bounds out from my underwear, as he pulls it down. “Oh WOW” he says.  And he leans down and begins to suck on it.  Russell isn’t the most amazing cocksucker in the world but he is good, and I give him 10 extra points for enthusiasm and devotion. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this,” he whispers as he gently slaps my big dick against his face and swirls his tongue and mouth around and around the foreskin and head of it, and then tries to go down on as much of it as he can, with his hand stroking the base.  Russell is a man in love, in this moment, and my dick is happy to be the love object.

    Eventually I say “Let’s move to the bedroom”, and he goes along with my directive.  We walk naked out of the living room, but when we pass the bathroom Russell says “Well – um – I’m embarrassed to ask but, can you wait while I just do some stuff in here? I just, I want to be sure of things…”  So fuckin’ cute.  He wants to douche, he knows this big cock is going up deep into him, and nice boys don’t talk about such things.

    Sure, I say, I’ll hang out in the bedroom.  He shows me to it, then leaves me to get comfortable there, and it’s nice.  Cozy with a big soft queen-size bed, rugs on the hardwood floor, and more thick wooden crossbeams going across the ceiling.  True to his “good boy” nature, Russell has thoughtfully prepared the scene; there’s a bottle of decent-quality lube and a little pile of soft cotton hand towels on the nightstand beside the bed.  And there are no neighbors around, in any direction.  Just me and Russell in this cabin-house, out here in the woods.  This turns me on, the more I absorb it. 

    I stretch out naked on the bed while Russell tends to his business down the hall.  I lazily stroke my dick, thinking again about him in the office, in his professional clothes, and the way he kept looking at me, and the way he got so flustered and bothered around me, even before I started going “over the line” and talking dirty to him.  And thinking of him naked now, looking so good from head to toe, and sucking my dick so eagerly.  And I’m going to fuck him, at last, and he wants it, he definitely wants it. There’s a careful and anxious side to Russell, but I’m also tapping into a very hungry, lustful, sexual side of him, and it’s interesting how the two sides coexist.

    Russell comes back to the room, naked, and he looks so good in the dim light.  I stretch across the bed, stroking my mostly-hard dick and looking up into his eyes, and I say “You sexy fucker.”  He laughs and says “Same goes for you.”  Then he impulsively jumps into the bed and we’re all over each other. 

    We start making out again and I start humping on him as we kiss, and he begins to moan softly in pleasure and excitement.  Porn images of Russell’s look-alike getting fucked delirious start to dance in my brain, as we kiss.  I want to fuckin’ drill him so bad right now.

    Russell is pinned down on the bed beneath me and looking up into my eyes eagerly and devotedly like a puppy-dog.  And instead of moving into a fuck, he starts saying all this gushy personal stuff, babbling words and more words.  “Paul, I can’t believe we’re doing this, I really wanted to, but it was wrong and also against policy and I could get fired, and technically you’re still on my staff so I still could get fired, but I’m so sick of being so careful and hesitating all the time in my life, and you just, Paul, I don’t know what it is about you, but I wish so much that I could be more like you sometimes, and –”

    I interrupt by pinning Russell down tighter beneath me and moving in to kiss him and shut him up.  My scruffy jaw drags roughly along his face.  He whimpers softly “mmph mmm” as we kiss.  I’m grinding my big fat dick up and down against his body, in rhythm.  And I break the kiss and slide two of my fingers slowly into his mouth.  He sucks on them obediently, warm and wet, as I keep humping on him, in fuck motion.

    I reach over to the nightstand and take the bottle of lube with my other free hand, and guide Russell to help put it on my fingers.  Soon my left hand’s fingers are back in his mouth, and my right hand is sliding a well-slicked finger slowly up his butthole.  It’s tight and it resists me at first, and he utters a little gasp of breath.  I keep on going though, gentle and slick, in and out… and he eases, softens, opens up for me a little more.  I grin and say “that’s it, nice….” And it really is so fucking sexy, what he’s doing… slowly relaxing, slowly letting me slide my fingers into both his warm wet holes at the same time. 

    Eventually I can slide a second finger into his hole and then a third, with more and more lube… and he’s really opening up for me now.  He’s ready.

    I position Russell just where I want him, and I lean down and kiss him again slow and juicy.  “It’s time, boss.”  And I nudge the fat head of my dick against his warm slippery hole… and I begin to push, ever so slow.  Slow but inexorable.  We’re gonna do this. It’s going in.

    His ass feels so fuckin’ perfect as he opens it up for me at last.  Tight, yet willing. I slide the head in, slow and gentle at first.  I nudge my dick in there just a little more and can feel the next ring of resistance inside him.  He starts breathing hard and moaning softly, and saying my name, and I fuckin’ love that, hearing my name during sex.  “Oh Paul…. ohmygod… uh!.. ohhh Paul yes… mmm… Paul….” 

    I hold Russell in position where I want him, on his back, sort of between missionary and sidesaddle, one of his legs stretched up in the air, and I keep on pushing my dick in there, with slow gentle determination.  “Paul…. yes… ohhh… oooOHHH!!”  It happens: his inner ring gives way and I slide my big dick deeper on inside him, filling him.  I start fucking him gently, and looking down deep into those big brown eyes.  There’s such a longing, pleading, intense expression in them. And his arms reach around me and hold me tighter, and he’s making these soft wordless begging whimpering sounds as those eyes look up into mine, blazing with intensity. 

    And I realize, in that moment, the huge difference between Russell and his slutty sexy porn-stud lookalike.  This is not going to be lust-fueled, animalistic fun for him. No. Russell feels things, feels them deeply. This longing and passion and soulful intensity in his eyes, as he cries out softly and lets me slide on into him more and more, warm and big and thick.  Russell is really feeling this. Carnal, sexual… emotional.  Body and soul.

    I start stroking Russell’s hard dick as I’m fucking him deep, and he starts writhing in ecstasy and then it happens so fast – boom, he cries out much louder and shoots a huge splashing load, jets and jets of semen, all over himself.  His chest and abs are covered in a mess of his own cum, and the aroma rises to my nostrils and it turns me on intensely; I love cum.  And it looks fuckin’ hot. I’m still lodged deep inside him, moving slow, fucking him even more gently as his orgasm simmers down.  I get the urge to lick the fresh warm cum off his naked skin, and as I continue to fuck him in slow motion, I slide fingertips along the curves and muscles of his naked body, scooping up that fresh spunk and sucking it off my fingers, hungrily.  I like the taste of a man’s cum, and Russell’s tastes great. 

    I get back to fucking him, though, because I ain’t done.  He came, and now I want to.  I can tell I’m not gonna be able to really fuck Russell hard, like a jackhammer.  He’s still kind of tight and now he’s in a blissed out post-ejaculation state and he needs me to stay gentle and deep, moving in and out, in and out, keeping him in awe and bliss.  But it’s good for me too, more than good – his ass clings to my dick on every long stroke in and out, and it feels fuckin’ incredible for me. 

    I usually think I need to fuck a guy real hard in order to cum, but Russell is taking me there, deep and slow.  I feel it rising in me a little more every minute, as I fuck him deep and long and he just holds onto me in a passionate embrace, moaning softly and whimpering my name. I feel more and more heat rising in me, as I fuck him even deeper – and WHOOSH, suddenly I’m cumming, shooting way up inside him.  Fuckin’ beautiful.  I’m gasping for breath, almost shaking, as my whole body arches and my dick keeps surging, splurting shot after shot.  Russell is holding onto me and breathing hard too, in a state of amazed ecstasy.  “Paul, I feel it…. ohmygod I can really feel it… ohh yes… ohh Paul…” 

    I stay deep inside him as the orgasm subsides.  Russell’s eyes keep looking up deeply into mine as we hold onto each other, and his eyes are rimmed with tears, like he’s almost about to cry.  Suddenly he utters: “Paul – I love you.” I smile – I’m kind of thrown by that. I feel like maybe I should say it back; here we are, in this deep state of intimacy; we’re wrapped around each other naked and I just flooded him with all the semen I’ve got. 

    I bend my face down to his ear and graze his neck with my scruff, kissing his warm skin very softly, tenderly. I go ahead and whisper it.  “Love you too.”

    =-=-=-=-=-=-=

    Russell said I could stay over, and he had this idea that he could light a fire and we could just cuddle in front of it, and maybe even stay the night in bed together.  But I had a ton of packing to do for my move, and also it was kind of awkward, that whole “I love you” thing after I came inside him.  Wasn’t expecting that.  So we cuddled in bed for a while… and I got dressed, got in my car and drove back home through all the dark woodsy twists and curves.

    And I went to work the next day, and Russell had taken the morning off, but he was in that afternoon, and I went around and said goodbye to everyone, and stopped in to talk with him one more time.  But I left his door open too long, and Melissa, my coworker, came rushing in to join us before I realized – “Paul, I can’t believe this is your last day, we’re gonna miss you!” she exclaimed, and then she wouldn’t leave. 

    So I just thanked Russell again “for everything” and said “let’s definitely stay in touch.”

    And he smiled at me and, with a glance toward Melissa, he just said “Thank you again, Paul, it’s been great.”

    And that was it.

    I was busy with moving down to Boston, that weekend and into the next week, plus starting my brand new job.  Everything was going well so far.

    But when I was alone at night, in bed, I kept thinking of Russell.  And when I watched the porn scenes with his lookalike, it just wasn’t the same.  I’d close my eyes and remember the emotion, the desire in his eyes, and the way my dick felt so fuckin’ perfect inside him and he loved it so much, and the way he kept calling out my name.  And the way he looked up at me with so much longing and said “I love you.”

    Maybe I’m getting older, I thought.  But that was… meaningful, somehow.  It was more than just a fuck.  And I felt hungry for more.  I didn’t know quite what I was feeling, it was sex but there was a heart thing going on for me too, when I kept thinking about Russell and that night we shared in the cabin out in the woods.

    I realized Russell never had given me his cell number or any other personal contact info.  So I went on Facebook and found him again, and I wrote him a message: 

    “Still thinking about you a lot, and that night.  Sexy and special.  Want to come down to Boston sometime? I’ve got my own place down here. Or I can even come up to see you. I want more. XOXO”

    I sat back and looked at it before sending.  Ha ha, fuck, that doesn’t even sound like me.  It is the most gushy, love-affair-type message I have ever composed, to send to anybody.  What the hell is going on with me? 

    I took a breath, and I sent it.

    And a few days later, I got a reply from Russell.

    “Thanks, Paul, it was special for me too. I should have been more honest with you.  I’ve been seeing someone and it is getting serious and it’s great.  When you wanted to do what we did, I was very conflicted.  But I decided to do it because the urge was so strong and I would never have the chance again. Now I am focused on my relationship. I wish you well in Boston and thank you again for an amazing experience. I’ll always remember it.”

    Well, fuck. You never know, sometimes, what’s really going on with people.

    But, me too, boss. That look in your eyes. “I love you, Paul.” I’ll always remember it.


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


  • Political Biography

    The relief I felt when he repositioned himself on top of me was short lived, as I gasped and grabbed onto the log bar of the double bed’s headboard in the cabin when he thrust inside me again, hard, thick, deep, and resumed the slow, rhythmic mining of my channel. I’d never been done in reverse like this before, me stretched out on my belly, raised slightly on my knees, my hands curled under the log above my head, while, his buttocks to mine, grasping my ankles in his fists, and leveraging his feet off the same log headboard, he did pushups on my ass. I took him deep, gasping at each thrust.

    The man had to be twice my age, but he was tall, muscular, and solidly built in keeping with what must be a taxing life as a rancher fifty miles west into the tumbleweed from Cheyenne, Wyoming. Once he’d changed to this position, coming after we’d sucked each other erect, I’d ridden his cock the first time as he sat in a chair, and he’d missionary fucked me on his bed, he made quick work of coming. I’d already shot my wad earlier, but I managed to come weakly with him at his initial climax.

    How had he known that I could so easily lay down for him?

    Cameron Olson climbed off me, rolling the spent condom off his dick and pivoting slightly to make a three-point toss of it into a trash can on the other side of the nightstand, patted me on the buttocks with a “Good job” comment, and sauntered off to the bathroom attached to the single bedroom of the log cabin he called the ranch house.

    “Stay there. I’m gonna spike you again,” he tossed over his shoulder. Just like he knew I was so submissive that I’d just lie here and wait for him to mount me again. I turned over onto my back on the bed and opened and spread my legs, ready for him when he came back.

    Panting slightly and looking down the full length of my naked body, I watched him go, 240 pounds of six-foot-four hard muscle, veins popping out on sinewy arms, torso, and legs, as there was no layer of fat in which they could hide. The nut brown tan of his torso stood out in stark contrast to the whiteness of his pelvis and accentuated that he was hung. By my calculations, he had to be in his early fifties, but one would not have known that from how well he was built. Maybe there was gray to be seen salting his reddish chest hair, but the buzz cut on his head made it hard to discern there. His bush and pits showed the reddish-auburn of his earlier life, when he was a jet pilot. Cattle ranching had obviously been good for his body, though. It had favored his libido too. The thrust had been strong, the stamina that of a much younger man. He stil lwas half hard as I watched him move to the bathroom.

    I moaned and reached for my cock, shaking it, the mere thought of his domination and self-confidence, of him inside me, making it go hard again.

    The mystery was how he’d gotten my legs open and his cock inside me as easily as he had. I wasn’t exactly promiscuous—at least that I showed to the world. I didn’t dress gay or anything or have that mincing walk. I didn’t have piercings or wear any signaling jewelry or anything. I hid my preferences well—or so I thought. But he had come on to me from the beginning. Now that I thought about it, he was playing me even when I called him, first from Washington, D.C., and more recently from Cheyenne, to set up this interview. It was as if he’d known I could be had. I’d had to send him my photo so he knew it was me when I arrived. He must have liked what he saw.

    I was here because I had sensed some reticence in General Stowell’s willingness to talk about the Air Force Academy years of his life, and I thought this man, Cameron Olson ,could provide some background and color. Before I knew it, though, it wasn’t him revealing much to me, but, rather, me revealing to him that I would take cock.

    It had come out of the blue when I wasn’t expecting it. “You look like you want it bad. You’re gonna love my cock,” he had said. He had put his coffee cup down, risen from his chair, and brought me up from mine. He then immediately went to town on me. And he’d been right. I loved his cock. I lay there on the bed, listening to the sounds from the bathroom, impatient for him to return to me.

    I was working at calming my breathing as he came out of the bathroom, still naked, now standing full frontal to me and causing me to moan at the mature beauty of his powerful body. Just a few minutes earlier, I’d had that cock inside me. How had Imanaged it? With great pleasure-pain, I had to admit. It had been some time since I’d been covered by a man as strong, filling, self-confident, and experienced as he was. With no small amount of guilt, I wondered if he had been putting me on for his own amusement—to make clear how much he dominated me. I wondered if he really would come back to bed and do me again. He was still half erect.

    “Coffee will be ready in ten,” he said, showing a gleaming white-toothed smile in a craggy, but ruggedly handsome tanned and wind-etched face. “Black or ruined?”

    “Black will be fine,” I answered with a groan, still sore from the workout he’d given me, not wanting to show my disappointment that he wasn’t climbing back onto the bed and on top of me.

    “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He laughed. I got the joke. Other than this bedroom and a bathroom, the entire cabin was one large living-dining-kitchen area. “Bring your notebook and recorder with you,” he said, as he shoved off from where he’d been leaning against the bathroom door frame. “I’ll dish the dirt on Bobbie there.” He sauntered out of the bedroom, fully in command—certainly fully in control of me. He still was naked.

    I groaned as I sat up on the side of the bed. I reached over to the nightstand for support as I stood up. My hand brushed the small pile of condom packets there. I felt the chill of the thrill of thinking he’d do me again. I wanted him to do me again. But then I shook the thought out of my head. I was here to interview him—to pull background information out of him that would help me in my writing, that would help me in understanding the man, General Robert Stowell, secretary of homeland security, and maybe a candidate in the next presidential election, that would help me write his political biography in time for that campaign.

    This interview wasn’t about me. My instincts had told me that there would be something significant in the general’s years at the Air Force Academy that would give me a hook in writing about his character and the influences on his life. Stowell hadn’t asked me to come here. I’d decided myself that I needed to make this trip. The general had only mentioned Olson in passing. I hadn’t had any idea what to expect. Finding a Zeus-like hunk who was sexy as hell, randy, and sure of himself with me wasn’t what I imagined I’d find at this ranch outside Cheyenne.

    But, fuck, I wanted Olson to do me again. I pulled my trousers on and stumbled for the bathroom. God, my channel was sore—but in a good way. A highly memorable way. And gaping open; I didn’t remember having ever been this opened—and still throbbing—before.

    “Are you sure?” He said, standing at the kitchen counter, with a coffee pot in his hand—and looking oh so sexy and capable.

    “Sure of what?” That I want you to fuck me again? Fuck, yes. But I didn’t say that last part outloud. I sat in a chair at his kitchen table, turning it sideways to the tabletop so that I could face him directly where he stood leaning his butt into the kitchen counter. My hand went down beside where I’d put my notebook, recorder, and pen, and I felt a small stack of condom packets. God, did he salt them around everywhere in the cabin for convenience sake? I felt myself going hard again.

    “That you take it black?”

    Take it black? I thought. Why did the image of Robert Stowell rear up in my head? Because the general was black and appeared to be as built at this rancher? And they knew each other? I was going giddy.

    “Your coffee. You’re sure you take it black?” Olson repeated. He was giving me a little grin. He knew he had me off center. He’d known, for some reason, that he had me as soon as I had entered his cabin—probably as soon as I talked to him on the phone and was all pleading and such to get him to agree to the interview. Everything he’d done and said from that point had been focused on getting me into his bed and his dick inside me. And I’d given in to him, passively, submissively. And I wanted him to spike me again.

    “Yes, that’s fine, ”I answered. I cleared my throat as he poured the coffee, coming close enough tome, in his nakedness, for me to tremble. “I understand that you knew General Stowell at the Air Force Academy—that you were on the football team there with him. That the team did well in those years.” I reached over to turn on my recorder, but his hand covered mine and moved it to beside the recorder—to lay on top of the condom packets. He was standing close to me, his half-hard dick touching my cheek.

    “Yes, we were on the same football team. We also were roommates for the last two years. I’ve got a lot to tell you, if you want to hear it. But you don’t want to turn on the recorder yet.”

    “I don’t?” I asked dumbly.

    “No, you want me to fuck you again first.” He put the coffee pot down on a pad on the table, took his cock in his hand, and rubbed the shaft against my cheek, I instinctively turned my head and took his cock into my mouth.

    He made me slit the condom packet open and roll the rubber on his shaft. He crouched down in front of me, sliding his thighs under mine so that he was sitting on the chair too ,facing me, and I was in his lap. The chair legs did a staccato beat on the bare wooden floor as we ground our bodies together in the fuck. His arms went around me, his fists clasping at the back of the chair, and he buried his face in my neck and sucked on my throbbing vein there as he humped me.

    Eventually, he pulled me up, pushed me belly to kitchen table top, and grasped my wrists, forcing my arms over my head, my palms pressed to the table, while he pounded my ass into glorious submission. I lifted my head and focused my eyes across the room to the fire he already had going in the fireplace. My jaw was slack, my panting heavy, my head bobbing up and down in consort with his deep thrusts up into my channel. I was in ninth heaven, every nerve in my body concentrated on the friction of the hard, latex-sheathed rod sliding in and out of my ass.

    He let loose of my wrists, and I grasped the far edge of the table top to hold myself in place, while his hands went everywhere on my torso and ended up grasping my waist and pulling my hips hard toward him with each strong thrust inside me. From his repeated mutterings of “Fuck, yes,” “Give it to me,” and “Tight and sweat; just how I like it,” I knew that he was dancing on the clouds too. That made it all the more pleasurable for me—made the hugeness and cruelty of his cock all the easier to take, more the center of worship.

    I took up the cry of “Give it to me! Punish me! Shaft me! Put me to the sword!” He laughed and complied.

    I had to take a widestance to handle the thickness of him; my eyes were watering and I was babbling from the length of him. My legs felt like rubber and I would have sunk to the floor, if I hadn’t been held in place by the solid bulk of him, my chest rubbing on the rough kitchen table top from the relentless powerful thrusts of him. I was sobbing from his strength, stamina, and expert swordsmanship.

    “This is what you want,” he growled. It was a statement. “This is what you came for.”

    “Yes, this is what I want,” I whimpered. I’d had no idea that this was what I’d come for, but I would not complain that this was what I got. He had worked me into position expertly and was taking skillful care of all the wants I hadn’t admitted to myself that I had. “Yes . . . this is . . . what I want,” I repeated, stuttering it out in rhythm to his thrusts.

    When I left the cabin the next morning to fly back to Washington, I was hobbling and humming. I also was filled to the brim with “color” for my biography, although there was very little that I could use in the book. I also understood why General Stowell had played down the Air Force Academy part of his life.

    * * * *

    “You weren’tanswering your phone last week, Kevin,” the general said, turning to me in the backseat of the black Escalade and giving me a piercing look from underneath his bushy eyebrows. It was as if he could look right into me and know everything I knew.

    I didn’t want him to know everything I now knew about him.

    We were gliding down a dirt track, the trees meeting over our heads, a black Escalade in front of us and another one in back of us. The men in both of those SUVs were armed, submachine guns butted into their thighs, the barrels pointing to the ceilings of the vehicles, their eyes darting everywhere, ready for anything. Two men were in the front seat of this vehicle. A driver and Jacks, Stowell’s burly personal bodyguard, the most macho of all of them—built like a tank; a Marine buzz cut; young, not much older than I was; Army recruiting film handsome; and clearly devoted to the general. He too had a submachine gun at the ready.

    We had entered the Marine training base at Parris Island, South Carolina, and were still driving through the thick forest, toward, I assumed, the seafront. Stowell had told me to bring a swim suit—“and bring all of your notes thus far,” he had added. He’d also told me not to tell anyone else where I was going—not that I knew where I was going—or that I would be with him. That was something long drilled into me. The biography was to be a surprise. That Stowell would be running for office at all was to be a surprise. My part in this was to be totally nonexistent. I understood that from the beginning.

    “I can make you disappear altogether,” he said, “without a trace left behind.” I believed him. He was the head of homeland security.

    “I was doing some research on the book,” I said. “Just getting a feel for the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs—nothing too deep.” I didn’t want to straight out lie to him. He could check on my airplane tickets. He was the fuckin’ head of homeland security, for God’s sake. I didn’t think he’d check as far as the rental car I drove up into Wyoming from there.

    I saw the armored Escalade in front of us veer off into a turnoff and come to a standstill. The men had bailed out of it before we’d gotten past it. The men already were deploying into the surrounding forest. I turned and looked behind us. The other Escalade had stopped too and the men were getting out of it. The vehicle we were in kept moving forward. It was just the four of us now. The trees weren’t as dense. I was getting glimpses of the water edge of the base, open water beyond.

    “Did you enjoy the attentions of Cam?” the general asked. I turned my head toward him. The thin smile on his lips was more of a sneer than a smile.

    “Excuse me?” I said, a chill going up my spine.

    “Cameron Olson. I assume he fucked you good.”

    He knew where I’d gone.

    “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, General,” I said, trying not to have it come out as a squeak. “I was just trying to fill in some information from your years at the Air Force  Academy. I didn’t want to bother you with details down in the weeds like that. Just background. Nothing need be—”

    “So he told you how we hazed the new cadets—between us. How we fucked them like he fucked you. And how they begged for it and lay there and took it from us. The two of us doing them together. And never spoke of it after that. Because we told them not to. Because we were football stars. Because nobody with believe them over us.”

    “As I said, nothing needs be—” I was sweating. How did he know? Did he have eyes everywhere, even in Wyoming? Yes, of course he did.

    “No matter. I don’t mind that you found out. I hope you enjoyed him. Cam told me he enjoyed you. I picked you out for him, you know. I knew you’d go there. I knew you’d easily submit to him. It’s lonely on that ranch of his. I send him a gift of young tail now and then. It keeps him happy and quiet. Ah, here we are at the guesthouse.”

    He knew about me. I wondered before how he’d picked me to write his biography. I’d been at the Barnes and Noble in Tyson’s Corner, signing books on my biography of Senator Paxton after a book talk and everything had gone quiet. I looked up and there he was—with his squad of goons around him. His smile had been more friendly then. He’d invited me for a drink after the signing, saying he had a proposition for me.

    I was to write a political biography on him. He was thinking of taking a run for the White House and he needed a biography. He’d liked what I’d done for Senator Paxton. Would I be interested? Of course I was interested. If so, I’d have to do it in secret. I’d have to devote my time to him for a couple of months. I couldn’t let anyone know what I was doing, who I was doing it for. Was I still interested?

    Yes, God help me, I still was interested. And now, after seven weeks, he was telling me that he’d picked me because I’d let Senator Paxton fuck me? Not just fuck me, but dominate me. I’d worn a slip and lace panties for him. I’d let him bind me and whip me. And I’d let him plow me again and again. And I was stupid enough not to realize that the head of Homeland Security wouldn’t have known that.

    The surprise was that he’d want something like that too.

    I looked around in panic. I was isolated, on a Marine base, just me, the general, his devoted bodyguard, and a driver. Jacks and the driver knew the general fucked men. He’d just openly talked about it with them sitting right there in the SUV, and they hadn’t flinched. I’d get no help from either of them.

    Up ahead of us was a wood farmhouse, sitting close to the water line. White with dark greenshutters. Benign and inviting. The land jutted out into the cove, with water on three sides. There was land across the water in all directions, but it wasn’t close. Buoys bobbed in a semicircle a couple of hundred yards out in the water. I was sure they were connected with nets that would signal any breach. There were ten men from the other two SUVs spread out, on watch, somewhere behind us in the forest. And we were on a closed fuckin’ Marine base.

    “Listen, General. If what you want . . . if you want me to—”

    “I know I can. Whenever I want, and what I want.” It was said with a low growl, but then his voice turned friendly. “Come, we have time for a swim before dinner,” he said, as he and Jacks opened their doors and climbed out of the Escalade. The driver stayed put. I hesitated as well.

    “Come on up to the house, Kevin,” Stowell said in a voice not to be ignored.

    With a shudder and a sigh, I opened my door and climbed out. As soon as I was out of the vehicle, it moved off, back in the direction we came from. Now it was just me, the general, and the devoted bodyguard.

    Stowell beckoned to me and I moved to beside him. A beefy hand went to my butt cheek, and he guided me forward, toward the house, with it. Jacks was carrying all of the luggage—three suitcases and my computer case and the briefcase with all of my book notes—and he was hefting it all without effort.

    I knew that Stowell was going to fuck me, and he obviously knew that as well. Olson had told me in no uncertain terms how the two of them had shared new cadets—how they’d fucked them silly and reamed them big, left them sobbing. I just didn’t know when, how much, and what kink it might take.

    I was panting and moaning inwardly as Stowell guided me to the house. And my feelings were mixed. Yes, I was scared. But I wanted it, and Stowell knew I did. He’d be a cruel lover. Olson had made that clear. As we walked, I was trembling, but I licked my lips in anticipation.

    * * * *

    So, where did the bodyguard, Jacks, fit into this, I wondered. Was he just pledged to protect the boss or was he farther into it than that. I found out.

    We had come up from the water, Stowell and I, and plopped down on two lounge beds at the edge of the Bermuda grass as it filtered into the sand of the small beach. Jacks had stood under a couple of trees on the edge of the beach, in combat boots and khakis, although his shirt was open, showing a muscular chest and dog tags. Helooked the part of a poster-boy Marine, and, for all I knew that’s what he was. He was holding a machine gum cradled in one of his arms and his eyes were looking everywhere at once.

    They didn’t stray to Stowell or me much of the time, though. That wasn’t where any threat was coming from. All I was wearing was a Speedo. There wasn’t anywhere I could have hidden a weapon. Stowell was naked. He was big—tall and meaty, with a slight paunch, but a muscular chest and biceps, and he was horse hung, as I knew he would be. He was a veritable black bull, a bit past his prime at his age, but stil lobviously capable of snapping someone like me in two if he had half a mind too.

    He eyed me as we both toweled off. He was half erect. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was fucking me. I knew that’s why he brought me to Parris Island. Maybe he wanted to work on the book too, but before we’d come out of the house to swim, he’d made me give him a blow-by-blow description of what Cameron Olson had done to me, and there was no question that he intended to do the same.

    He pointed to one of the lounge beds and I lay down on that, as he went down on his back on the other one. He motioned to Jacks to come over and at least part of Jacks’s function here became revealed. At a gesture from Stowell, Jacks went down on his knees by the lounge bed, placed the machine gun under the bed, took the general’s cock in one hand, and lowered his mouth over it. As Jacks gave the general head, Stowell ran a hand over the bodyguard’s head. Turning slitted eyes to me, Stowell growled. “Watch this. Lose the Speedo and jack yourself off as you watch this. Fingerfuck yourself with the other hand. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

    Panting and moaning, I stroked my cock and opened myself up with my fingers, searching for and finding my prostate, as I watched the hunky bodyguard giving Stowell head. I came when he told me I could come, which was at the same time he did. He pushed Jacks off him, and the bodyguard stood and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

    “Help me up,”Stowell said, and Jacks helped pull the general off the lounge bed. “I’ll be in the house,” the general said. “You can use him and then bring him up to the house to me.”

    This took me by surprise, and I turned my head toward the retreating figure of the general and started to come off the lounge bed. But Jacks was immediately on me. He had taken his trousers and briefs off at some point during the blow job and had worked his cock up. Straddling the lounge bed, with both of his feet on the ground on either side of the bed, he swiftly had my ankles on his shoulders and was forcing himself into me.

    I grunted and groaned, but I took him. He was a handsome devil and thick, if not overly long. I didn’t resist. I’d worked myself open and hard. I was ready for a cock. I just hadn’t figured it would be the bodyguard’s first. He, of course, was athletic and in top shape, so he worked me hard and long. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders beside my ankles and took his dog tags into my mouth and sucked them as he plowed me—raw, barebacking me like neither of us had to worry about the future. And just now, just for these twenty minutes that he fucked me, I didn’t let anything else worry me.

    He exhausted me. So that, when he was done seeding me and rose from me, I gave no opposition as he lifted me up, threw me over his shoulder, and marched me into the house. I did no more than moan and murmur a quiet, ineffectual opposition, as he laid me down on the bed in the master bedroom and tied my wrists and ankles to the posts at the four corners of the bed.

    My eyes were glued to Stowell, who was standing across the room, a multithonged leather hand whip in his fist. He was smiling cruelly and swishing the whip against his leg.

    * * * *

    I lay there, on my stomach on the bed, an arm dangling down the side of the bed to the floor. I had no energy left to raise the arm. The welts didn’t sting too badly. He’d only raised a bit of blood. There were some smears of it on the sheets. Someone would wonder about that when they cleaned up the guest house. Or maybe not. In any case, it wasn’t my worry. I was beginning to calm my breathing.

    He’d been cruel, yes—and methodical, giving my back and legs as much attention with the whip as my chest and arms. But he’d more played with me than put power into it. His power had gone for the fucking. He’d done everything to me that Cameron Olson had done—and more. And I’d given it all to him. I’d opened my core to him, let it go spongy, and had yielded everything to him, denied him nothing, made love to his cock with the undulating walls of my channel even while he was cruelly conquering all.

    He’d had me bound just at the beginning, while he whipped me on the chest, belly, thighs, cock, and balls. Breaking me down; loosening me up. He covered me close, penetrated me, pounded me cruelly, came inside me. I then was totally his. I told him so ;he knew it was true. He unbound me then and turned me and whipped my back, mounted me, and fucked me again. I denied him nothing.

    All the time Jacks stood at the door, leaning into the doorframe. Still in his open shirt but trouserless, magnificently hard, watching everything.

    Afterward, standing cross the room, by the window, the general was going through my written notes, reading everything, shaking his head, scowling here, laughing softly there. Occasionally he looked up and gave me a hard look. I hadn’t held back in my research. I’d found out a lot—a lot that he didn’t know I’d find. I wasn’t going to write it, of course. I knew what a political biography was to contain. But I wanted to know the whole man.

    Now, I think I did.

    “They are just notes,” I called out softly. “Much of that wasn’t going to go into the book.”

    “Shut up,” he growled and went back to reading. After he’d been through it all, I watched him take a book of matches off the desk next to him, strike one of the matches, and light the corner of the ream of notes. When the flame was going good, he dropped it all into a metal trash can under the edge of the desk.

    I knew then. In my heart then, I knew they were going to kill me. They’d fuck me again, of course—probably even rougher this time. They’d had their sport with me, but then they’d kill me. And there’d be so many ways to hide my body out here in the depth of the Marine base without it ever being found again.

    What was that that Stowell had said when telling me we were going on this trip—that he could make me disappear altogether—leaving not a trace behind? There was no doubt that he could.

    “Kevin.” The voice was commanding, with a touch of irritation. He’d said something and I hadn’t heard him.

    “Yes? What?” I said.

    “Your notes were useful. They told me what could be found out about me by a good researcher. I’ll have to cover some tracks.”

    Here it comes, I thought. Would they at least let me live through another fuck? It was idiotic that I could think of being fucked at this time, but they were so good at it—both of them. And I was so submissive and needy. Stowell, of course knew that. That’s why he had picked me.

    He was opening a drawer in the desk beside him and taking out a thick manuscript.

    “You don’t have to write the biography,” he said. “I’ve written what I want the biography to say. But you’re a professional writer. I liked what you did with Paxton’s biography. You’ll rewrite this, in your own words. You’ll just keep to the facts as I give them.”

    They weren’t going to kill me. My emotions soared. He just wanted me to polish up what he had written. I could do that. I almost didn’t catch what Stowell said next. He was speaking to Jacks.

    “You take the bottom. I’ll take the top.”

    I barely had time to turn on my back, before Jacks was up on the bed and under me. He put me in a full Nelson, his strong arms laced under my pits, pulling my arms helplessly over my head. I was too spent and exhausted to have struggled with him anyway. He moved his legs inside my thighs and spread and raised them. His thick, hardcock found my hole, which was still wide open from the general’s attentions, and with a thrust and a yelp from me he was inside me.

    My eyes went to Stowell, moving toward me, his erection massive and hard. He came up onto the bed between Jacks’s and my spread legs, moved his cock head to my hole, and, as I cried out in pain and passion, pressed his cock inside me on top of Jacks’s buried shaft.

    Giving me no mercy, he began to pound me hard. Jacks was holding his thick cock steady inside.

    “You. You too. Fuck him hard. You too,” Stowell cried.

    “But we’re both big.”

    “Do him. Do him hard, like I am,” Stowell growled. “Anything short of tearing him up. Whatever you want short of that. I want him completely cowed and malleable to the demands of either of us.”

    Huffing and puffing, trying as hard as I could to accommodate them, one thought raced through my mind, over and over again. They aren’t going to kill me. He needs me to rewrite the biography. They aren’t going to kill me. He needs me . . .

     


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  • Grindr Helping my Speedo Fetish

    Wanted to share this story with you guys, it happened last night and I’m still enjoying the afterglow of the experience.

    I have a VERY specific Grindr profile: I love speedos and playing around in them. It’s the first thing on my profile. Most people don’t care about the speedos and message me about sex. I hadn’t found any luck finding any cute guys that were also into speedos.

    Last night, I received a message from a guy reading, “I like speedos too. I’ve been wearing mine all day. Want to come over and we can swap?” The thought was electrifiying. I’m not a bold person, and my heart was racing with a mix of fear and excitement. I was thinking of letting this opportunity go, but speedos make me so horny that I just wanted to check it out. I messaged him back a few pics of my ass in a speedo and he shared his. I’m a tall, 6’2 guy with a lean body, piercing blue eyes and light brown hair. I have a very average cock and lot of guys compliment my on my cute ass. This guy, Mark, was 6’3 with a beautifully toned body and a winning smile. From his pictures, it was clear that Mark swam varsity in College and had the muscles to prove it. He was staying in a hotel a mile away from me, so I headed over. I got to the hotel and Mark came down to the lobby to get me. He was impeccably well dressed and looked even more incredible in real life.

    We went upstairs to his hotel room and started talking about our speedo fetishes. We had both gotten ours at a very young age while we were swimmers. He told me how when he was in high school, he used to wear jammers, but envied the kids that wore speedos. He had a huge crush on the captain of the team and stole his speedos out of his bag and took them home. Smelling the captain on those speedos was the hottest thing in the world to him. He put them on, and came almost immediately. All while he’s telling me this, he’s stripping down to his speedo.

    He had a bright red speedo with 1 in seams that he was bursting out of. His cock outlined the fabric as it strained to get out of his skimpy shorts. I decide to put on a show for him, so I start to slowly undress myself. I had a blue tyr suit with stripes down the side. I slowly bend over to take off my shorts making sure to give him a good view of my ass. I turn around and his cock is practically busting out his speedo. I get on my knees and start licking his cock through the outline of his speedo. I run my tongue back and forth tasting the precum leaking through the speedo. He tastes delicious. I start to play with his ass with one hand and stroke his cock with my other. I can’t believe how lucky I am. Speedos are the hottest thing in the world to me and I can’t believe I’m playing with a guy who’s a toned college swimmer with just as big of a speedo fetish as me. His speedo smells of a mix between chlorine and his own musk, it’s intoxicating.

    He stops me and looks down. “I want to try something. Wear my speedo and model it around for me. When you cum tonight, I want you to cum in my speedo and give it back to me. I’ll wear it to the pool tomorrow and have something to remember you by. If you want, I can do the same thing for you.”

    Fuck yes!!!

    We swap speedos and I try his on. His cock is massive and seeing it hang free as he changed made my mouth water. He slides my tyr suit on and it fits snug. His ass is framed perfectly and in the front he fills it out very well thanks to his well endowed member. The feeling was amazing. It was so hot to see this stud in MY SPEEDO, the same speedo I swim laps in and masturbate in occasionally, and see him so turned on from the same speedo. He loved modeling around for me and showing off his ass and bulge. I tried his speedo next. It was so small on me but the feeling was electric. This was my biggest fantasy and I was actually doinig it.

    The speedo was still warm from his use and I could feel his warmth against me. I dropped to my knees, took out his enormous member and took him in my mouth. I arched my back so he could see my speedo-clad ass wagging back at him. I started going faster and faster taking more of him in me. I was in heaven. ‘Slow down, I’m going to cum’ He moaned as I kept sucking him. He stopped, pulled me away from and smiled at me. “I also have a fantasy of a hot man in a speedo sitting on my face. Can you do that for me?” Say no more! He lies down and I slowly lower myself on his face. He starts to lick my through the fabric, slapping my ass and playing with the fabric. He pulls the fabric towards my ass crack, giving me a wedgie and starts licking and kissing around my asshole.

    Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I start to stroke his cock again. He moans with ecstasy and his moans get louder and louder. ‘I’m going to cum!’ He says and I stuff his raging cock back into his speedos. No, MY speedos 🙂 As soon as I stuff him into the speedo, thick ropes of cum spill out of his cock through the speedo. I eagerly lean over and lick all the cum that leaks through my speedos. He tastes amazing and its taking me close to the edge. Mark takes this opportunity to take my cock out of my speedos and start sucking. His lips feel amazing around me and he takes me completely in him. He works on me for a few minutes as I get closer and closer to coming. I take Mark’s cock out of his speedo and start to suck it again tasting the remnants of his cum on him. Mark starts working my dick at lightning speed and I realize I’m going to cum. I quickly roll off him and roll up my speedo. I shoot a huge load into his red speedos and he eagerly licks it all up.

    We look up at each other, speedos drenched in cum and utterly exhausted. We switch back and I realize that I wore my speedo under my shorts to come over and I don’t have a change of clothes. I decide to put on my speedos now drenched in his cum to walk home. It feels cool and sticky and oh so hot. ‘Mark, that was fantastic. I’ve been fantasizing about something like this for a long long time. Your story about stealing the speedos is really hot too. I wish I had worked up the courage in high school to take home and smell any of the speedos from my teammates. ‘

    Mark looked at me. “Do you want to steal one now? I have an old extra suit from college that’s getting to worn out to wear anymore. Why don’t you have it.” He handed me a black skimpy speedo practice suit I was overjoyed. I left the hotel and walked home in my cum filled speedo and shorts, with a smile as big as the sky.

    As I’m writing this, I’m wearing Mark’s practice speedo and looking at the cum stain on my own speedo. It still smells like him and makes me so horny. Mark had to leave Washington DC (where I live), but he’s back for business pretty often. He sent me a pic this morning of him at the pool in his bright red speedos with my cum stain still visible. “Jealous” I sent back. “When you come back to DC, we should swim laps together and have a renevous in your hotel shower. I’d love to soap you up.”

    I’m already itching for when he gets back so I can see him again.


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  • Fucked by a Dick Dancer

    Once again, I was needing some cock so I headed over to the XXX video store. I was going to get fucked for sure that night. I put on a pair of Wrangler jeans that I had ripped out the ass seam, cowboy boots and a snug fitting t-shirt. I slipped on an over coat because most of my ass could be seen without it and going to jail wasn’t my idea of a good time.  

    I hadn’t been in lately and they had made some changes. The store part and theaters were still the same but the video arcade on the left side of the place had been taken out. They had little viewing rooms built around a raised dance floor with 2 way glass so when you put in your tokens you could see the nude dancer on the other side. Not what I was looking for but what the hell, I was there so I looked around. Not many people around and as I was walking around a guy came out of a booth and left the door open. I stood in the door watching the dancer before the window went dark. As I had the door open, he could see me playing with myself. I guess he like what he saw and asked me to come around to the dressing room as no one was around but me and him. I walked around to the door and he let me in to a dimly lit room with a TV, a couch to sit on and a table with drinks on it. He was a hot looking guy a bit shorter than me, smooth body and well muscled too. He had on a dancers G-String and boots. I took of my coat and he asked if I wanted to play around. The owner was off, the place was empty he was bored and horny and the guy at the front counter didn’t care. I hadn’t seen his cock but his bulge was promising. He asked if I was a bottom, said he really got off on fucking taller guys. Total bottom I said and turned so he could see my ass peeking out of my ripped out jeans. He kneeled down behind me and pushed his face into my ass and started licking my hole. I still hadn’t seen his cock. Mine was sticking out of a rip in the front of my jeans and was hard as a rock. I’m hung just average, about 7 inches but pushed out of my tight jeans I looked pretty impressive. I hear a ripping noise as he is pulling my ass apart and trying to get deeper in me. 

    “I want to fuck that” he said. 

    “Let me get you ready” I told him and I turned and pulled out his leaking cock. I wasn’t disappointed. This guy was a dick dancer for good reason, he was really hung big. All clean shaven with low hanging balls, he had to be 9 inches long if not then really close to it and a thick shaft with a  large head on it too.  I swallowed that cock like a pro and was slurping up and down it getting it all wet. I’m on my hands and knees fully dressed but my ass hole is exposed and my cock out and I’m ready for some cock. He got behind me and started pushing that big ole man rammer into my willing ass, no lube, no condom just my spit and his determination. This hot hung naked man is behind me on his knees and fucking me like crazy. We are in the floor fucking and grunting like a couple of pigs and we didn’t hear the key unlocking the door. All of a sudden the guy from the front counter walks in. I’d talked to him many times, he was nice enough but nothing to look at. Really tall and lanky, long brown hair and a big nose. The dancer, I never got his name, looks up and sees or guest and that turns him on more and he starts fucking me harder. He never stopped and tell’s the other guy that he should try some of this. 

    “He’s got a great ass and no gag reflex ether” 

    Counter guy (his name is Sean) walks over and pulls out his cock. FUCK, this guy was hung even bigger than the dancer! Sean pulls his pants down a bit gets down in front of me and I start sucking him off too. The dancer is pounding me like mad and soon starts breathing harder and Sean tells him, 

    “Fill him full, get it ready for me” With that, I feel my ass filling with his load of cum. He never once pulled out from the time he started fucking until he came in me. “Are you ready for more?” he asked me. Sean pulled out of my mouth and took off his pants and got around behind us. Dancer boy slid his still hard cock out of me and Sean slipped in and took his place. I’m glad the dancer opened me up because Sean was nearly as thick as a beer can. Sean rammed in fast and I could hear all that cum in my guts squishing around in me and he churned my ass but good. This was no fast fuck and after a long hard fucking he rammed me one last time and unloaded up my ass. It was a long and hot fuck and I was spent, they got me cleaned up and I relaxed on the couch for a time. I found out that another guy had come to work and thats why Sean came back to hang out when he found us fucking. Later, another dancer came in and Sean and the other dancer told him about fucking me and offered he up to be fucked again, I was game and before long I found myself sitting on another raw cock and soon was taking my third load of cum that night. Sean and I hooked up several times after that, he like breeding my ass and liked that I could take his big cock so well. He also like that I was up to get banged and often he would invite friends over to fuck me and then plant his seed in my full dripping ass. 

    Tell me what you think


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  • Getting Fucked by my French Exchange Student

    Hi everyone, this is a true story that happened to me in April this year. I would have written more in French but I didn’t want to have to translate everything I wrote. Hope you enjoy it anyway!


    I had finally arrived. France! I shook my head slowly, then lightly slapped my face to wake me up. Even though I had slept most of the 7 hour flight from JFK, I was still absolutely exhausted.

    I walked with the rest of my group of kids from my high school through the baggage hall of Charles De Gaulle airport, and was taking in the sights. Mostly the French men. Well constructed, well dressed, well groomed. All around hot. I was happy with the fact that I would no longer have to deal with the immature gauche boys of the United States. I could finally move on to a more sophisticated race of people: Europeans. At least for the next 11 days.

    After claiming our bags, we walked to our tour bus and started our drive to the city of Orléans, where I would spend the next 5 days living with my exchange student Elliott.

    I didn’t really know Elliott super well. We had only talked about three or four times on WhatsApp, but I didn’t really know what he looked like. The profiles we got of our students at school had a picture attached, but according to Elliott, they were taken in Freshman year. And he didn’t look too attractive. He was poorly shaven, had acne, and crazy hair. I really hoped he didn’t look like that now.

    As we arrived in Orleans, we drove to their school, and all got off the bus to be transferred to our host families. I stood closely with my friends as we all had a minor freakout, hoping that our exchange families were nice.

    “James?” I heard a voice from behind me. I turned around, and my mouth dropped open. It was Elliott, and he looked a million times hotter than he did on the profile. He was sort of tan, and about 5 foot 11, thin, with perfectly short cut brown hair. He was wearing tight brown jeans and a green shirt that showed off some muscle.

    “Bonjour James! How are you?” he said. I was barely able to put myself back together before responding.

    “I’m good how are you!?” I said.

    “Good! Bienvenue à France! Do you want me to talk in French or English?” he asked.

    “Français, sil vous plait. I’m pretty good at it,” I responded, in a perfect French accent.

    “Okay,” he said, in French, “Let’s go home! We have dinner waiting,”
    We walked to his car, and as we were walking I looked at his ass, which was big, and amazing.

    The next two days were completely uneventful, other than the fact that I toured the city and also places around it. I also tried to tour as much of Elliott’s hot body as possible, glancing a quick look at his seemingly impressive bulge whenever possible, or his perfect round ass. His soulful green eyes were also something I liked to take note.

    On the third day, Elliott and I had gotten pretty comfortable around each other. The day before we had gone to a party and were pretty exhausted. So instead, we decided to hang out at his house in the afternoon, then spend the rest of the day shopping in town for gifts for my parents.

    Elliott had an indoor pool, so he and I were hanging out, swimming around and drinking beer. We were talking in French.

    “How do you like life in France?” he asked me.

    “It’s really nice here, a lot more interesting than America. Plus people here are much cuter,” I said, instantly regretting that I said that out loud.

    “People? As in…?” I knew what he was doing. He was probing to see if I was gay or not.

    “Guys. Sorry, I should have told you earlier, I just know that France is sort of a Catholic country, and…”

    “No! It’s fine! And France isn’t incredibly religious anymore. Plus, I knew you were gay, or at least bisexual, because I saw you checking me out a lot.” Fuck. I’ve been busted.

    “Oh! Sorry! You French guys are just so much more put together than Americans,” I said, trying not make it sound like I was hitting on him.

    “Yes, well thanks, we try not to look like… well… Americans,” he said, laughing, “No offense”.

    “None taken, I have accepted my country’s poor fashion sense,” I responded.

    He laughed. “If it means anything, I think American men are very attractive.” He looked me up and down, and smiled.

    “Oh! Well, thank you!” I responded. I decided that was a sign.

    “Um… I sort of have an awkward question,” I said.

    “Okay, shoot,” he said, moving slowly closer to me.

    “Are a lot of French guys uncircumcised? Or do not a lot of people do that anymore?” I asked, cautiously. My new goal was to somehow get him to show me his dick.

    “Yes, most are uncircumcised, like me,” he said, smirking.

    “Oh, okay. I’m circumcised. I don’t really know what an uncircumcised dick looks like!” I said, laughing.

    “You don’t know? You’ve never seen it?”

    “No, I never see it in porn either, probably because I’m not paying attention.”

    I could see Elliott think for a second.

    “Here, I’ll show you,” he said. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the shallower end of the pool so that his crotch was just above water level. He then slowly pulled his trunks off, and out popped his semi-hard French cock. It was thick and long. The head of his dick was covered by foreskin, but only enough so that the tip was slightly exposed.

    “Wooooow,” I said. I sounded like a kid looking at something alien.

    Elliott grabbed my hand and placed it on his growing cock. He pulled my hand down his shaft, and the foreskin pushed back, revealing a huge circular head that was fat, and wider than the rest of his thick manhood.

    “Woah, that’s cool. The tip is sensitive now because it’s exposed, right?” I asked, placing my hand on the head. He shuddered and moaned.

    “Yes, very,” he said. He was completely hard now; it looked like he was 7 inches long. He reached over to me and grabbed my now very hard 6.5 inch dick, and started rubbing it through the fabric of my swim trunks. I moaned quietly. I continued to stroke him, and he did the same to me.

    I decided it was time to move on to something more fun. A slowly bent down and submerged myself into the water. Elliott let go of my manhood and let me slip beneath the water line, as I slowly moved towards his dick. In one swift motion, I placed his entire head in my mouth, and carefully started to suck on it. He moaned loudly, and his noises echoed off the walls of his pool house. I slowly started to work the rest of the way down his shaft, taking in ass much of his French cock as possible.

    “Putain! You’re really good at this!” he said. He grabbed the back of my head and slowly started moving me up and down. I was slurping loudly. He moaned louder and louder as I continued sucking him down into my warm mouth.

    After several minutes he pulled me off his cock. Then without warning, lifted me up, took my swim trunks off in one swift motion, and then picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his torso as his lips touched mine. We immediately French kissing, of course. He lifted me out of the pool, and started walking slowly towards his room. We entered, and he set me down on my back onto his warm desk. He pushed his things dramatically onto the floor with a clatter. He held one of my legs up, and then used his other available hand to go into his drawer and retrieve a bottle of lube. He quickly applied some his cock, and then to my asshole. He positioned his fat cock head against my asshole, ready to press down.

    “Ready for my cock?” he said in English.

    “Oui!” I said, eagerly. I felt an immense pressure as he plunged his fat cock down into my asshole, slowly spreading it open to allow him inside. I groaned as it went it, breathing heavily so I could take it.

    When he finally reached the bottom, I only stopped for a second to let me get used to its immense size, before starting to slowly humping into me. At first, he was gentle, and I moaned quietly with every entry. But then he got faster, and faster, and pulling more and more out every time until eventually, I was screaming out loud. The desk was slamming against the wall and things were falling off of it and onto the floor. It was so hot. Too hot.

    Only 5 minutes in, I lost control and blew my load all over my stomach without even touching my cock once. Elliott paid no attention and kept viciously plowing me. He suddenly picked me up, and brought me up into the air, and fucked me midair, with me barely hanging on by his shoulders. He grunted loudly every time he pushed himself into me.

    I could tell he was getting tired from holding me up, so he put me back down on the floor, then turned me around, bent me over, and slipped himself back inside. He placed his hands on my shoulders, then started slamming my ass into his pelvis. He moved me towards his bed so I could hold onto something as he forced me down onto his cock.

    I could tell that he was getting close. He stood me back up, and continued to fuck me as he slowly eased himself down onto the floor, and allowed me to sit on his cock. I bounced up and down for a while before he then started jackrabbit fucking me. I screamed out in pure ecstasy again. All of a sudden, he bucked his hips, and screamed too, cumming inside me so hard I could feel it.

    That sent me over the edge. I exploded again without touching, my white spray hitting Elliott in the face. He opened his mouth and tried to catch it inside. It felt like eternity before I was finally able to stop cumming, and I collapsed onto his cum covered chest in a heap.

    “Holy. Fuck” I said in English.

    “Oui,” he said, sighing.

    We looked at each other and smiled. I still had three more days with him.


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


  • Golf Stroke

    Golf season finally opens without a hitch once again. Billy Holton is back for his 10 seasons as Assitance grounds grew for Pine Valley Country Club. It was early May when Billy has just meant with this year grew and the new Gold Pro for the Country Club Stephen Mason. The meeting lasts a good hour plus before  Billy was called into Mr. Mason office as they go over with this coming season golf schedule. Stephen Mason was a great looking man for being in his mid-forties. 

    Billy was completely soaking wet when he came into the staff men locker room to change into an extra dry pair of clothes that he has set aside for days like these. The time was well after 3 pm when he got out of the shower stall and notice Mr. Mason started to take his clothes off to put on a rain suit for his golf lesson around 4 pm. Billy got really turn on seeing Stephen stand in front of the mirror as he began shaving his face and chest hairs and was truly surprise watching him pull down his underwear so he can trim his thick dark pubic hair that he always likes to keep it trim and neat.

    Stephen private golf lesson client has plays professional football for well over 10 years.Mike Armstrong was a great Linebacker for 3 teams during his football career and a very solid frame body structure. He stood well over 6’2 and weigh a solid 240 plus along with a 9-inch piece of meat. The rain started to come down fierce as they finally had to call the lesson to come to a close due to the rain and high winds. 

    The two are now back in the changeroom and striping off there wet clothes before they went into the Sauna to get some steam. Stephen got the feeling that this man would love to have his 9-inch cock so bad as he sat there slowly stroking himself during their conversation about sports. 

    It took a good 15 minutes until Stephen finally got his mouth wrap around Mike Armstrong huge 9-inch cock. The grunts and moans were very loud as the blowjob got more intense. 

    ” Holy shit Steph you mouth feels great on my dick “

    ” I love your juicy cock dude “

    ” OMG you are going to make me cum “

    ” Yea love your man spray all down my throat “

    “Jesus here it comes “

    ” Fuck, shoot Mike shoot dude “

    His cock began to shoot off a load of cum all down Steph throat as he started to orgasm. Stephen could not help choking a bit on the cum that he just got spray down his throat. It was like a short minute that Billy walks into the sauna and notice Steph and Mike cock where still hard as a rock as the aroma of the sauna smell like body sweat along with having a sex order to it. Billy new best not to say a word to anyone what just happen in the steam room. 

    It was like 3 weeks later that all 3 of them along with another member of the golf club began to have a small orgy in the sauna. They finally come to their senses and made some type of arrangement for the four of them to meet at the Sunset Hotel 5 miles from where the Country Club was located. They all made sure that they would all be free a noon on Friday.

    Friday came by fairly fast as Billy was the last one to show up at room 219, it was the very last corner room upstairs of the hotel. All four all them began to help each other taking off their clothes. Billy was the first one to get fuck as he felt Mike huge cock enters his small not so Virgin hole. The rest of the guy’s just stood there watching it all go down with great pleasure as they jerk their own cocks as Mike dick was sliding in and out, in and out of Billy ass. 

    ” Let me fuck him now scream Stephen “

    Mike took his time and pull out his 9-inch cock real slow. Matt Anderson began to squeeze Steph sweaty hard nipples as the fuck got more aggressive. Mike then took his pre-cum filled cock and shove it all down Matt throat as he stood on the king size bed. The whole orgy was well into 2 hours before Mike and Stephen were the first ones to shoot off their loads of steam. Then came Matt and Billy who shot off at the same time while they were 69ing each other. For which that Mike and Stephen were in the shower by now scrubbibg each other down with the Irish Spring soap. 

    Mike just bend Stephen over and started to shove his dick inside his hole good and hard. He then uses the soap to make some more lube for him before the fuck to truly began. Stephen was screaming through the top of his lungs as Mike blue yes roll back like a Great White fucking his prey. Matt and Billy had to go and check out the washroom after hearing all the great sexually scream coming from there. 

    ” OMG Mike fuck him dude “

    ” Let’a take this back to the bed Mike “

    ” Sounds good to me “

    The whole room started to smell like dirty body sexual order as all four of them started to hit orgasm from all different sexual possession that took place. Billy was the first one to shoot off than it was Mike, Stephen and finally Matt who jerk off all over Mike green underwear that he was wearing that day.  Matt had an underwear fetish as was sniffing and smelling Steph pre-cum filled breifs at the same time he was jerking off and all over Mike underwear.

    Over the next year, all four all them got together every 2 months over at the hotel for some good old Bi-male sex around noon on Friday. Bill went on and landed a great job up in Northern Michigan states. Mike was caught by his wife fucking a city worker at his house 8 month’s later. Stephen also moves to another state a year later. As for Matt, he was caught and kich out at Gold’s Gym fitness club smelling a pair of firemen Captain John white breifs that he had on that day.

    The End

  • Roller Games

    It was the beginning of training camp for this coming season Rick is now on his third time trying out to be on the New York Bomber team. This is team will be coached by one of the toughest most respected skater name Phil Crowe. This will be Phil 15th year skating on the bank track. Rick had a great 2 weeks of training camp and was called into the owner of the team office Arnold Anderson along with player-coach Phil Crowe.  

    Rick was so excited when he heard that he made the team and sign his very first 2-year contract for the New York Bombers team. Their first 10 games will be played all around New York state and Pennsylvania. Rick had the shit kick out of him for the first three games of the road trip. It was well after midnight that the team bus had pulled into the HO JO parking lot.

    Phil was going to be Rick mentor and roommate for his first year on the team during the away games. Phil got married to his wife Judy 3 years ago and has 2 kids from a previous relationship over 20 years ago while he played minor league baseball in Syracuse New York.

    ” Hey Rick how about a beer “

    ” Cool Phil love one “

    ” Have to tell you that your skating had improved so much over the last two games “

    ” Thank’s Phil “

    ” I also spoke to Bill Cotey that you are going to be jamming a lot more in the last half of the game in Pittsburgh, Hershey, and Allentown. “

    ” OMG can’t wait for those game Sir “

    Paul Raul who is the captain of the Nothern Braves is a brute and most hate-full skater in the 8 team leagues. He was in the Canadian Navy officer before he had to leave because of health issues and his eyesight. He stood about 6’1 with medium cut brown curly hair and wore thick eyeglasses. It was well into the 8 periods of the game that Rick flew over the pack to win the second game in a roll for the Bombers.

    Roller Derby league is made up of a bunch of men and 60% gay women who were very close friends during the Roller Derby season. Most people knew they rode on the same bus together and share the same hotels’ room together. 

    Allentown was the last stop before they headed on back to there home town all around the Newark, New Jersey area. Paul Raul had a nice apartment in HOBOKEN that he shares with his buddy Bill Cotey who was the Braves assistance captain. It was Sunday late afternoon during their homestand that they invite Rick the kid over to the apartment to watch the NFL game between the N.Y Giants and the Buffalo Bills. 

    Paul order in from Papa Marios a huge deluxe extra large pizza for the half-time intermission. Rick could not believe his eyes from the size of the pizza. ” Hold shit guy’s I have never ever seen a pizza that big before ” The two of started to laugh at one another before Bill walks over to the fridge to grab some more beers for them all.

    The Giants lost the game 24 – 20 to the Bills as Rick had just won this week football poll which was well over a hundred bucks. The wall clock was now showing around 7:30 pm before Paul made a pass at Rick and started to massage his sore shoulders.

    ” Holy shit Paul that feels so great “

    ” Just relax and enjoy Rick “

    Bill knew right away what this is leading to and got up from the couch and walk over and began helping Paul take his Bombers workout sweater off. Rick got the feeling what is going down and was nervous as hell. He knew that he might be Bi-sexual but never got the opportunity to try anything with anyone. 

    ” Holy shit guy’s your hands feel great “

    ” How about I get my massaged table out and give you a nice deep body massaged? “

    ” Wow, that will be fucking hot Paul “

    Paul walks over to his bedroom and pulls out the massage table that was underneath his king size bed. Bill then started to help Rick undress before he got himself undress. Rick got up on the table slowly as Bill and Paul both poured the hot massage oil all over their huge rugged hands. Rick whole body started to tremble as the massaged became more sexual as Paul’s mouth was working over Rick 7 inch plus tool as Bill stood back and watch it all go down before he got into the action.

    Both Paul and Bill took turns as the suck the cum out off Rick cock during his first orgasm he’s ever had. Paul still has lots of cum still left on his beard before Bill started to french kiss Paul mouth. Rick was truly amazed watching the two of them get it on with each other.

    Bill had a lovely cock which was about 7 inches with a nice small mushroom head to it, As for Paul he was built like a horse close to 10 inches plus with a curve that was great for fucking anything that comes in his way. Rick got up from his blowjob and went into the bathroom to take a piss and came out with a box of Trojan condoms and a bottle of Rush Poppers.

    ” Hey guy’s are these popper dudes “

    ” OMG Rick they are “

    ” I heard about them in a wrestling magazine “

    ” Okay Rick what is this all leading to “

    ” I was hoping that the both of you would make a real man out of me “

    ” So I take it that you want to get fuck by us Rick “

    ” That right Bill “

    ” So can I have then honor Rick and let me be your first “

    ” You sure can Paul “

    Rick climb onto the massage table once again and lay flat down on it. Bill hit the leaver as the front of the table drop down. Paul got a small table beside him so he can place the bottle of poppers along with the box of condoms that will be used during the fuck session.

    Bill then started to rub down huge amounts of massage oil all over both Rick and Paul bodies. He then uses his mouth to rip open the condom as Paul massive cock started to get hard. He then stood right behind Paul and help him roll the condom all the way up his 10-inch shaft and made sure that it was fitted tightly before he enters Rick’s ass.

    All 3 of them took a huge shot of the poppers as Paul cock started to enter Rick hole. Rick body was totally relaxed as Paul huge cock climbs further and further inside of him. It took a good 2 minutes that he was all inside of his Rick wet juicy hole. Bill began to squeeze tightly Pauls sweaty oil hard nipples as his shaft was sliding in and out of his ass much harder and faster.

    ” OMFG Paul you feel so great “

    ” I know you would love my Daddy dick, Rick “

    ” Fuck him, Paul , Fuck him good  “

    Paul’s huge set of nuts is in full throttle as the fuck got even crazier when Bill forced his cock down Rick’s mouth. Bill took a huge shot of poopers and was very close and shooting his load off. 

    ” Holy shit guy’s I’m so close “

    ” Give him your spray Bill, I want your juice dude “

    Just a few seconds later Bill body jilted forward and began to orgasm his load of cum all over the Rick smooth oil chest. Paul was still fucking Rick at the same time that Bill cock shot off a huge amount of his man juice. Bill was somewhat tired and started to play with Paul’s balls and shaft. He then helps Paul pull out his juicy cum filled cock from Rick sore ass. 

    ” Holy shit Paul you have not cum yet “

    ” You got that right Rick “

    ” I want to fuck you bareback “

    ” Go for it Paul, I want that big fucking dick in my ass Sir “

    It only took around a minuted that Paul was now barebacking Rick ass. He is now on his tippy Toes shoving his massive shaft in and out, in and out. Bill love this and got up from the couch and got down on his knees and made sure that Paul’s legs are spread apart a bit. He then started to lick Paul’s sweaty nuts as the fuck got more intense. Rick started to scream through the top of his lungs as the fuck is going on for well over 10 minutes.

    ” Squeeze my balls with your hands and pinch my nipple Bill “

    ” Give me some more poppers Bill “

    ” Yes Paul, you want some more Rick “

    ” Yes I need a good shot guy’s “

    Paul body is completely covered in the sweat sexual order of sex as he is very close in cumming. Rick was deeply enjoying Paul’s 10-inch cock as both of them were in some form of deep sexual trance and pleasure.

    ” Holy shit I’m so close guy’s

    ” Grap my balls”

    ” Squeeze them, Bill, Squeeze them, “

    “Tighter, fucking tighter Bill “

    “OMFG “

    Paul then withdrew his cock fairly fast from Ricks ass. All three of them watch as his cum flies out of him like a bullet going off. The cum flew well over a few feet and landed on Rick face and the wall that was in front of the massage table. Bill could not believe what had just happened and help pull back Paul’s slump over body. Himself and Rick were totally exhausted from the fuck that just happens. Once again Rick moans as Paul started to withdrew his hard cum juice cock from Rick nonvirgin hole.

    All three of them climb into the huge shower stall and scrub each other down with the bar of Irish spring soap. It was well after midnight that both Bill and Rick made back to their place to get a good sleep before tomorrow practice.  The rest of the year in Roller Derby was tough on both Paul and Rick who suffer a few injuries from the 8 month’s long season. The travel all over North America and Japan. The Bombers finished third in the 8 team league and Rick got trade to the Texas Outlaw at the end of the season. Rick would do very well in the Houston Arena because the Outlaw new Captain will be his fuck buddy Paul.

    The End

  • The Man In My Room

    He’d always been there, always. My first memories are of him sitting in the little slipper chair across the room, one leg over the other, his chin on his knuckles just…..not looking at me…..not watching me…..just….being there. Sometimes he’d get up, move, walk over and look at me closely, smile a bit and then go plunk himself in the window seat and look at the sky. He was my familiar that I knew not to mention to anyone.

    I’d heard about children who had friends that didn’t exist, who insisted that a place at the table be set for whomever they’d conjured up. Puzzled me, that did. Why make up a wholly fraudulent thing when, I assumed, they had someone of their own, like my man. Given that, I never discussed him, never mentioned him and, as he never left a mess or disturbed anything, there was no reason for anyone to suspect his existence.

    The first thunderstorm came upon us suddenly I didn’t know whether to be frightened or what. This was a new experience and not one as pleasant as, say, your first banana split. He held me, loosely, let me put my head inside his shirt or whatever it was and almost suckle on his nipple. But then I knew there was nothing to fear so I came out, leaned against him and watched lightning make patterns on my walls while the thunder made things shake at which I laughed. It must have put me to sleep as suddenly it was the next morning for I could hear my mother calling to remind me it was a school day and I needed to hop to it. I looked at him, he put his hands up and hopped like a bunny.

    We went on like that for years. Impossible not to remember when my dad came in, sweating like a pig, and, after clearing his throat to the point I wondered if he had throat cancer, plunked himself down on my bed, asked me to join him, put his hand on my knee and said it was time we had a little talk. My man turned away to avoid any expression that might betray agreement, disagreement, whatever. Dad started back at, “Son” and then took a pause as if trying to remember what the hell it was that was supposed to follow “Son”. So he said it again.

    “Son……Uhm, this is man to man stuff, you know, uhm…..”. I didn’t know and at the rate he was not going, I wouldn’t know. “Son, you may have noticed some differences in  you, uh, body, uh, in certain places.” I looked at him, somehow taller-although I was-didn’t seem to be what he had in mind. “Every man comes to a point in his life when he’s. uh, fertile”. I looked at him hoping for some clarification. “Uhm, between your legs, you have a, well it’s called, uhm, a penis”. 

    “You mean your cock?”.

    He passed flustered and went right on to, “Jesus S. Christ, where the fuck did you learn that word?” Seemed pointless to tell him he referred to all sorts of things as “cocksuckers” but probably not a good idea to remind him. I could see him breathing deeply, trying to regain his composure-pretty much shot-and continued.

    “Okay, yeah, your cock and I guess you know what’s under that….”
    “My balls…..some guys say nuts”.

    Do you know why they are there….or if you think you know, tell me.

    It took a lot of vulgarism, that’s how I’d learned what everything did and probably was largely inaccurate in the specifics but generally I proved I knew. I guessed it wasn’t a good idea to tell him he was getting a hard on.

    And that was father/son sex education. Never was mentioned again so, I guess, he presumed I’d got a gold star in the class and nothing more need be said. But now it was time for a more literal translation as well as show and tell time.

    My man took the seat where my father had been, had me remove my clothes and then carefully, cogently explained things. Beyond that, and it was important, he gave me a peek at “later” and how things would feel. Getting me hard, he proceeded to jack me off-something up to then I’d done myself. Felt better when another guy did it.

    I thought, “I wonder if I like men for sex and women for friends”. He kept his rhythmic pace, stopping now and then to let me withdraw and then off we’d go. Things can only be postposed for so long and in someone my age, that wasn’t too long so the final act shot itself, I fell back exhausted and he wiped me off with a wad off tissue, kissed me and then…..I woke up the next morning.

    High school was very easy for me; I had a great memory and did well which pleased everyone. Also, I played football. Why? I don’t know, just did. I was about 6’2, 175 pounds and a swift Tight End, so swift that scouts noticed me and I made the highlight reel on the local stations on more than one occasion. Pleasant looking, crewcut, clear skin, I was the poster boy for our team and one of those who contributed significantly to a winning season. My man liked me in my tight uniform but he was not the only one. I Did fill it out , shame the jersey covered a nicely washboarded abdomen but the guys in the showers saw and word got around. Some of the people it got to were the cheerleaders many of whom made very direct suggestions as to what we might do to celebrate after the game. If I’d had a choice I would have taken the ball snapper, fucked him raw and then let him blow me while I snapped his balls. Didn’t work out that way but it was an interesting idea.

    Also, back in my own room, I got the best sex and the best sex education there was to be had. We’d moved on from the basics to the basically kinky not to mention BDSM, plain old S&M plus fisting. It would have wrecked my reputation had it been known but it wasn’t. 

    The years went on, I finished high school, girls discovered me, I discovered boys, one in particular whom I’d bring home. Jerry was a nice guy, polite-which appealed to my parents-bright and, the extra point, was good at sports. He was also good at intramural male sex which we performed in my room with everything but a bicycle pressed against the door to insure the ultimate in privacy. My guy, of course, but he wasn’t there for Jerry and so we not only played with each other, we did all the nasty things we knew how to do and, over time, got quite good at the basics with a few specialty numbers.

    Even in the dark it was hard to miss Jerry. As with most red heads he had stunning white skin, only minimal freckles and a cock and balls that anyone would be proud to sport in the locker room. Jerry, too, played football but I always thought when he saw the defensive line, his balls drew up and he would have wished to be any place else. 

    Graduation brought appropriate rewards. I was in the top ten percentile in my class, had a good record on the football field, was considered to be a catch for the ladies and…..for certain schools who would be delighted had I come to them to continue being a tight end but on a bigger scale. There were no illusions, football at the university level made the school boy football I’d been playing seem like kindergarten. One after another coaches paid their respects and found that the usual blandishments they offered were useless. My family was well off, I could easily pay my own way, no talk of team spirit or the school for which they flacked reputation made much difference. In the end, I picked one which, after a campus visit, I found the coaching staff to be good and also, probably, available for sex. I knew I could play the game, it was just a matter of upscaling how it was done.

    Then there was Jerry. I saw it coming and did not know how to avoid it; He thought he fell in love with me and…..as his “partner” decided to go to school at the one I’d chosen. Jerry came with his own abilities,  along with football he was a championship diver; His specialty being the 10 meter board. He had won regional championships so when it came to schools, he, too, had a choice and his choice was mine. I needed the consolation of my man who suggested that once we were at school, the schools of student/fish would produce something for him and I could play kick the can with the big boys without him. Which is pretty much what happened.

    Second semester of my Sophomore year I was a fully recognized Varsity player and the team went to a bowl game where I accidentally scored two touch downs. Now I’m in Sports Illustrated, being interviewed, hustled for ads for good causes….it wasn’t quite what I wanted. There were serious concerns as to my safety on the field; As your abilities, or alleged abilities go up, you become more of a target for opposing teams. You may have heard the word “scamper” as applied to runners in football, the reason is twofold, they want to score and they don’t want the shit beat out of them when tackled by most of the other team.

    In May, my guy and I were in the bedroom of the apartment I rented fucking like two rabbits determined to populate the state of Alabama in three hours. In my mind, he was the one and the only one I loved. Forget the love making or, to  be more realistic, sex, I could not see a life without him, he’d been a significant part of him well, forever. He had three fingers up my ass and his thumb on my perineum when he whispered that he wanted me forever and ever. He’d never said that but once those words went into the ether and my mind, the rest of my life faded into something I’ll call, “Whatever happens, I don’t give a shit”. 

    He went in me as far as he’d ever been just before expelling so much cum it bubbled out beside his cock. Writhing with pain and pleasure, he had my cock worked up so I could blow a load like his. He was all over me. Tied me up, beat me, made me scream with pain, made me cry with pleasure, took me so completely that my soul was fucked out of me.

    Hanging from a hook, a spreader bar on my ankles, he knelt down and started on my exhausted cock. Slipping a dildo up my ass, it was plain the only way out, and I wasn’t sure of that, was to come and come big. Remembering what I’d just done, that didn’t seem likely. He’d pause to lick the whip wounds on my chest, bit my nipples then returned to other interesting pain/pleasures. The cock wand that went way down, the enormous dildo that went way up….

    The final thing was being made to sit on a spike while electricity flowed through it as well as my balls, cock and tits all of which had electrodes stuck to me. How long I lasted I’ve no idea but when I came to, I was still on the spike, my arms tied so I wouldn’t go too far down on it. It was dark and I was alone. 

    Two days later I finally could get out of bed but frightened; My man was gone. The chair he sat in was vacant. The apartment was a void of anyone save me. 

    Ten days later I could stop crying long enough to at least take care of myself and see other people without their staring at me oddly. I thought about driving home, maybe he was there. I knew that for the lie it was but it was the one I told myself. 

    Whatever had happened to me, I never looked better than the day I got in my car and began the long drive home. I’d never done it but I was dressed to thrill. Jersey cut off just below my breasts, tight fitting track pants, jock that made me look as if I was concealing a basket ball, new haircut, sneakers and that was it. I stopped for gas on the way out of town and heard at least three cars skid as brakes were jammed down. Put on my mirrored aviators, got in the car, put the top down and pulled onto the road that led to the road that led me home.

    My head was in his lap and he was smiling. “Took you long enough to get here….I’ve been waiting your whole life time”
    I rose up slightly but he pulled me back down; It’s okay Son, you’re at peace. Never were supposed to be born, thought you’d die in the accident with me…..that’s why I was always around.” 

    I started to cry. “Dad….you.”
    “Yep, me.”

    He moved, got up and pulled me up, his arm around me, a quiet kiss on my forehead.

    “You ever wondered how it would be to fuck for the rest of eternity with the man you love?” I just looked at him and smiled.

    “I guess I’m going to find out.”


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


  • At The Table

    “Stand up!” said my Godfather. “Stand up, remove your clothing then come to me, assume the brace and wait”.  I did all that and waited. The servants in his dining room, one against each wall, closed their eyes not knowing what their boss would do to the striking lad he had raised. My Godfather took another bite of braised Kudu, chewed it slowly, swallowed and picked up his napkin. Turning to me he tied it around the top of my nut sack pulling it painfully tight then looped the remaining cloth over my now erect cock and tied it off at the base. 

    He ate a few more bites, had a sip of the Nederburg and then slapped my cock and balls hard, once each way, another sip and another slap. Tears shot from my eyes and I tried to avoid bending over in pain.
    “Do you know why I did that?”
    “Sir, I bred without permission.”
    “And whom did you breed?”
    “Bash, Sir” 

    “Do you want to keep these?” He used the point of a steak knife to indicate my cock and balls. “Well, do you? I could have them now.” He grabbed my balls in his hand and squeezed until I thought I would faint or vomit. “Well. Answer”.
    I croaked out that yes, I would very much like to keep them….if he would allow it.

    I was shoved back until I fell on the floor. “Of course you want to keep them, I want you to keep them, you’re too valuable as breeding stock and think of the dowry I’ll get for you.” It was not greed in his eyes but pleasure at seeing what he’d created and could manipulate so easily. He knew I had no place to go, an orphan abandoned on the quayside brought to him as a doctor. Now an almost grown man but his. No law save that which he made forced me to stay.

    “Cut the knots….” and threw me his pocket knife. “Get dressed, sit down and continue eating.” I was too afraid to even acknowledge him, simply did as I was told.

    His mood changed, the servants opened their eyes the scent from the garden pervaded the room.
    “Tell me, was Bash a good fuck?”
    It was not a question I wished to answer for the truth was that….he wasn’t but telling the Doctor could and probably would have a consequence for Bash. I couldn’t be silent but tried to evade the truth, at least some of it.

    “Sir, he is younger than I and….his skills are still at the stage of….”
    “In other words, he wasn’t as good as you would have liked. Is that what you mean?”
    “Sir, Bash is my friend, today was of no import, we were practicing for the match and found ourselves…..”
    “Yes, no doubt. Who found whom? He found you I’ll wager”, and laughed as I could see him try and envision the two of us. He knew my body so well, so completely that all that remained to sketch in was Bash and only a few details that he’d forgotten; Bash was his patient as well.

    “How’s his cock? His father keeping him shaved, nuts too?”.
    “Good, a slight upturn that makes it easier for him to enter and there will be veins soon.” I could comment on this without fear to anyone. “He wasn’t shaved today but it had only been a few days since he has been. His Dad has his nuts in a stretcher and it’s hard to shave around that.”

    “A stretcher you say? Hmm. I must call Piet and warn him that there are stretchers and then there are stretchers that can do harm, accidentally reduce the blood flow. Lucky you never needed that, you hang well.”
    I was grateful myself. Bash’s stretcher needed a sort of hex wrench to remove and, he said, on occasion, when it was fastened on, the skin was badly pinched and bruised. I told the Doctor that.

    “Yes? You have seen a mark or something that could have been caused by what you describe?”
    I nodded to avoid opening my mouth and having salad fall from it.
    “Who puts this on him? Piet? or one of the servants, the one, you know…”
    And I did know. This man was being used to “open” Bash, to teach him how to accept a large cock. His father, I understood, couldn’t have stretched a mouse hole and told the Doctor that.
    The Doctor roared with laughter. “I’d forgot that. He once asked if being circumcised would make him bigger and I told him if he were circumcised again, they’d have to take skin from his crotch…” I laughed because it was funny and this was part our bond, the sneering at what he called beneath our consideration.  I wondered why he included me, someone’s bastard, turned out on the road….that wouldn’t seem to meet any sort of criteria he might have.

    We finished and went outside for Brandy, coffee and cigarettes. The gardens were magnificent, they were written up in papers as far as London and Sydney. He prized his gardens and, on occasion, had me strip and took photographs of me in the flowers. Taking pictures of me dressed or undressed was a hobby of his. In the lounge there was an enlarged photo of the two of us, naked, when I was a babe. There also existed another one, similar save that I was clearly no baby. He’d let the hair on my chest and below that grow for the occasion. He had a double reason: One, that clearly showed I was a man and Two, he enjoyed shaving me. 

    “I’m going to the Karoo in a fortnight, want to come? It will be a couple of days, perhaps five, I’m running a clinic and doing the castrations. You could help.” No male child who was raised by anyone with some sort of learnable skill could avoid whatever it was they were taught. Bash was almost a finish carpenter and he hated it.

    “Die Klein Karoo?” and was instantly silent knowing he preferred we only use the old language on certain occasions and dinner in front of servants was not one of them. Apart from giving me a sharp look, he said nothing.

    “I can work on my tan, look for Sand Boas……of course assist you as you may need me.” He reached over and placed his hand on my forearm, looked at me and smiled.
    “I believe it’s time to go up. The sunset is best seen from the bed chambers.”
    As we went up the staircase I tried to relax the muscles in my ass.

    Oddly, tourism had done for the Karoo what nature could never had done. Some of the fancier travel magazines began to refer to it as a Garden of Eden in the middle of a desert. (If they wanted a desert, they needed to go North toward Windhoek and see the Skeleton Keys. That was a desert and over centuries had killed thousands of men. One day I would be taken there for the Tidal Test…..or I thought I would be and, from what I’d been told, it was not something to anticipate.)
    Over the thrum of the barely muffled Range Rover he said, “Got a big order, you’re going to have to pump out ten Mls over a couple of days.”

    That was a lot. It was also why I was kept around. Doing some routine tests before sendingme off to the service, he’d found that my semen was the Olympic Gold Medal of sperm. Even slightly adulterated it was still potent. As a doctor he’d written to fertility clinics wherever it seemed likely they’d pay the most money and presented them with a phial of my cum for their examination. One place said someone had almost gone blind trying to count all the wrigglers as they urgently tried to get out and spread joy to the infertile males. No idea what he got for my “production” but as a few recipient clinics came back the price went up. Apparently I could impregnate a steel door.

    Going to the Karoo was a real holiday for me as there was no schedule for me to be milked and, if I felt like it, I could spread my seed upon the ground, just like Onan. That, by the way, was the name of the company he ran with me as the only employee: Natalona, fertilizer. Generally he didn’t need me, servants or other employees of the clinic could hold down those unfamiliar with Western Medicine and, of course, the ones the Courts had handed over for castration did not take well. I once asked The Doctor why he didn’t just do a simple Vasectomy but his answer was that it was the order of the court. In some cases, really heinous ones, I was all for it but in others that struck me as low level shit, it seemed extreme. 


    The high street while it had been there for over a century had been revamped to show those from other places what the “good old days” had been like. Some one some place had an imagination on overdrive as I’d seen pictures of the place taken in the 20’s and what I saw now was almost the Disney version. Bright, shining buildings, overwhelmed with the sort of tourist junk that it’s known they will buy. In one shop I heard a tourist say to the clerk, “Accepto Americano Expresso” to which the clerk replied that she did not speak that language. 

    I wasn’t interested in the town and, as I wasn’t permitted the car, caught a ride with the mail wagon going out to Doctor’s hideaway. Very simple, cement floors, bug proof furniture, gas for heating and cooking, cold running water from a well and….a swimming pool. Not a large one and, on occasion, I had to either share it or wait until some bush animal had their fun and went away. My tan was a constant concern in that while I tanned very easily and very deeply, photographs of me needed to look as if I  came from somewhere in the Irish/German/Scottish/Norwegian area and not the Mediterranean. Secretly I admire the Portuguese fisherman, their swarthy good looks, their bright white teeth, deep black hair, the freedom of the seas. I’d read everything on Prince Henry the Navigator and thought the age of discovery would have been an interesting time to live. 

    The Doctor came in, splattered with blood as was typical.. This was the bush and he was doing bush surgery; Not the tidy, sterile sort where a nurse handed him a spreader or a clamp and wiped his brow when he sweat. He was wearing scrubs but I wondered if they could be cleaned; Out here, with no servants, I did the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, whatever had to be done. Fortunately it was a small house, almost a yurt just in Africa. We slept in hammocks covered with mosquito netting and kept side arms against whatever might decide to drop by. I knew he would shoot but so would I. The cool breeze that came in the evening over the sand from the cold South Atlantic made sleeping in the nude uncomfortable. 

    He was tired and mentally exhausted. His way to assuage that was to beat me and how he did it depended on the depth of his mood. Just outside there was a plank which you wouldn’t notice as usually it held potted plant in the metal circles that came out from the wall. It was my job to remove the plants, turn the circles, some of them and then wait for him. 

    He was inside drinking heavily, building himself up for the release he knew was coming, that he desired. 

    I was roughly forced into the irons, my neck and balls double locked. There was no warm up, his first crash of biltong and soft marula wood was exactly as strong as the last. There was no finish, just his releasing me knowing that I could take care of my wounds. What he did to himself was worse but he’d expunged his demon and now it was time to recapture it. The one long cut from his sternum until it ended at the tip of his enormous cock. 

    That was when he wanted me, wanted me to lick the blood, use the salt in my saliva then put my body over a sty and push his
    bloody and bleeding cock into me. The burbling of his cum was pink varying to almost red. I was too beaten too exhausted to resist. At some point he’d pull us both into the pool and splashed the chemically treated water on both of us. There were no words, just the exhaustion and pain that pervaded both of us. 

    None of this interfered with my sperm production, indeed, though I’m loath to admit it, it was a turn on of the basest sort. I wanted the pain as it caused my balls to grow, my prick to become so hard and long it quite nearly tore the foreskin, that which was left, to almost split. In my hammock that night I dripped blood, we both did and, I knew, we both exulted in what we’d done. The next day with the tenderness which he could display, he went over my body and wept at what he had done. I lay there, unmoved and unmoving. Pain was a part of my life, I knew that, so his tears and unspoken gestures of contrition meant…..nothing.

    Two days later we were back in town; I was in bed, some of the deeper wounds not yet healed and, what was more important, there was the contract to be filed. For the days we’d been home, my hands had been chained to the side of the bed so I could not even, modestly, play with myself. I was fed by the servants who also put creams on my fading scars and did all for me they could do; They were my own set of opposable thumbs.

    I heard come down the tiled hallway. One roller had something wrong and so it made a slight “click” on each rotation; Didn’t matter, I knew what it was, who was bringing it and why it was there. Time for me to fulfill, as much as I could, his contract. He darkened the room, ran his hands over my balls, bit my nipples and then applied the tube which contained the inner metal spike. This had a broad hole in it and was at the end of a splayed head so nothing could escape. 

    There was a muted sound of a lever being moved, a sound started up and, as he leaned over me, “I’ll leave you now, I think you’ll do better if you’re along with your friend.”

    It was disgusting, this was no friend, this was a machine which was there to collect the millions and billions of potential people I had in me. Softly, slowing at first, the tube would expand and contract approximating masturbation. The machine didn’t know it but this had been done to me so often I didn’t even notice, not for some little while. When I did notice was after a half hour or so when the urgency built into the machine gradually increased the pace and I could feel the desire, the deep seated man urge to get my cock hard, prepared to fuck. My balls were drawing up, I pulled against the chains and then the sense of impending release. 

    By now, after an hour or so, I was in full agony, writhing on the bed, trying to reach my tormentor but all it did was make a whining noise, the sort one hears as the engines on a plane scale up for take off. 

    I was too well trained to just blow in one gob but rather to let my valuable fluid slide from me into the metal flange opening. Somewhere it was being calculated as to amount as well as gauging whether further stimulation would release more significant amounts. If it decided yes, then the process of upscaling my arousal would continue, if not it would slowly back down giving me the chance to find my senses. 

    The Doctor came in, reached into the machine, took out something that held a sample of me and smiled. “The desert has done you good, 5.1 mls. Enough for this order.” He unplugged the machine, unlocked me and had one of the servants wash me with cool cloths followed by an alcohol rub. Just being allowed to go the bathroom with out and escort, someone holding my cock while I pissed, pleasures few know. 

    Later, at the table, he’s in a hearty mood having to do, no doubt, with the sale he’s just made. I’m quiet, attentive to my food and avoiding doing anything that might turn him to mean and desirous of…..whatever he desired.
    “One of your best productions yet, amazing, even by medical samples. Someone would be very lucky to have you fuck them, your resistance to climax, the expansion of your penis, few men could claim that and, if they did, make good on their claim. 

    We ate on, finished, went on to the terrace for our Brandy, coffee and cigarettes. It was the pattern I knew so well. How long until he judged the sun in such a position to make it necessary to go upstairs and use me in whatever manner came to him. He was jocular, perhaps it would be something I might enjoy. Who knew?

    I could almost feel sperm being formed, preparing, as if it knew, to be flushed, quickly frozen in liquid nitrogen and shipped off to wherever. My cum was better traveled than I was. 

    Another night at the table, I am nude and he is staring at my crotch. Too early and swiftly he throws down his napkin and demands we go upstairs. He has a rush order, just came in. I leave the table, my food hardly eaten, to go off and be eaten myself. 

    At the table there is food and I am part of it.


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


  • Prince’s Choice

    Sam Winterberry, who had been sitting beyond the fence at the side of the court with the entourages from the palace and embassy, plucked at my arm as we passed each other and hissed, “Get to the showers ahead of him, Jack. Give him a show. I’ve been watching; he’s interested.” I didn’t look around to the man who’d spoken. I’d been told not to acknowledge his presence. But, at his instruction, I pushed on ahead to get into the locker room.

    We were at the courts of the military school in the Asian capital and had just played a complex set–complex because the chief of station at the embassy, Ted Shackleford, and I were faced off against Ambassador Zimmerman and the prince. Although the COS and I were much the better players, it, of course, was a foregone conclusion that we were to lose the match. We won the first set, but it was all downhill from there, as it was programmed to be–at least by the embassy. The kicker is that we had to make it look like they weren’t just the better team but that we all, especially the prince, were near pro. Well, I was near pro. That was one reason I’d been brought over from the States on temporary assignment at the embassy. Who would have known that a CIA officer would be sent on an expensive TDY overseas just to play a tennis match and be dangled in front of a potentate the United States wanted to manipulate?

    It wasn’t that hard to beat the prince to the showers. He was posing with the ambassador for a photo op. The country’s press was all there. The prince wasn’t in the country very much of the time, even though it was his country and everyone assumed he’d be inheriting it soon. He was a military nut, and a coalition of the Americans, the British, and the French had done what they could to move him around the various elite military schools. They didn’t want him here much of the time. The king doted on him, but the prince’s idea of a good time was going to war with the country’s neighbors, and he was reputed to be as crazy as a loon. As the United States, Britain, and France were all entangled in mutual assistance treaties with his country, it was in our interests that his country not go to war with its neighbors.

    Shackleford had gone off to call in the ambassador’s limo. They wouldn’t be showering and dressing at the military school. That decision wasn’t by accident. Not that the ambassador had any idea what was going on.

    During the game I had made sure of getting the prince’s attention whenever possible. That wasn’t hard to do. He had zeroed in on me the minute he’d entered the court. Winterberry had been confident that the prince would be interested, and Winterberry had been right.

    In the communal shower, I stood under the water at one side of the tiled room, got wet, and was soaping myself up when the prince, a towel around his hips, arrived at the entrance. He was accompanied by a beefy young soldier, who moved to enter the chamber, no doubt to tell me to vacate while the prince showered. I could see out of the corner of my eye, though, that the prince grabbed the soldier’s arm and hissed at him. The soldier took a step back, although not without sticking his head in the room to assure himself that I was the only one there and not so far back that he couldn’t see the two far corners of the shower room at all times. The prince slipped the towel off his hips, handed it to the soldier, and came into the shower to stand under a head at the other end of the room from me–any indication that the fuck would be rough and raw.

    I decided this might not be so bad. From a glimpse of him, I thought he was in magnificent shape. I’d been briefed that he would be–that he spent considerable time working out and that his love of everything military extended to being very hands on, including with personal training. From the first indication, I wouldn’t have much trouble going hard for him. With me, being a Marine type was enough for that.

    In rinsing myself off, I managed a slow, full turn, holding at a full frontal pose, facing him. He was rinsing himself off under his showerhead, but he wasn’t making any effort to hide that he was watching me. He did the same turn for me, and I made a point of going full frontal toward him again and soaping my body up while watching him turn and soap his. My first impression of his body had been correct. His obsession with everything military had paid off. He was solidly built, taller than most men in his country and Marine muscular and hard. There were a few scars on his torso and thighs that indicated he wasn’t afraid of hand-to-hand combat. He wasn’t the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but he had the rugged, almost thuggish strong, chisel-chinned face of a young army general, which he was along with several other titles.

    At first his equipment was a bit of a disappointment. He was stubby, albeit thick as the proverbial beer can, but as we posed for each other, he filled out toward a respectable length. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about fisting and working his cock. Taking his lead, neither was I. His balls were big and hung low in the sac between rock-hard muscular thighs. His pubes were shaved, and he was tattooed in a spider web pattern across his groin, complete with a long-legged black spider, poised to attack his balls. I’d been told he was the commander of the country’s Spider Special Forces regiment, which engaged in nefarious activities, all of which protected the palace from plots, and I wondered if all in his unit were tattooed this way. I let my eyes stray to the soldier at the entrance of the shower, who was as hunky as the prince and better looking in the face, and speculated if he might have such a tattoo too and, not incidentally, how he’d look naked. But he just stood at half rest, but full observance–an observance that didn’t reveal that he was looking at two men posing for each other in the nude, though, and who were observing each other playing with their cocks.

    The prince and I were both soaped up. We also both were hard. As he rinsed off under his showerhead, the prince grasped his erection in his hand–now having enough to get a good grip on, showed me a three-quarters profile, started stroking his cock, and gave me a half-amused, half-aroused look of expectation. I did as he was doing, and we both stood under the cascading water of our individual showerheads, turned three-quarters to each other, crouched slightly with bent knees, and beat ourselves off.

    There was nothing coy here. I’d been briefed that the prince was simple, primitive, and straightforward in his pleasures and, being a prince, did just as he damn well pleased. He clearly wanted for both of us to pose and for me to beat off while he watched me and beat his own meat, so that’s what we did. During the introductions, he had been told that I was here to serve his needs, and he’d obviously taken that literally. Yes, I’d been told, the power of the monarchy in this country was such that those in service gave whatever service was demanded, without question or hesitation.

    He came first, splashing an admirable arc of cum against the tiled wall. He took two steps toward me and reached down and brushed my hand off my shaft. He fisted my cock–his grip was strong–and slowly finished beating me off, teasing me by bringing me to the brink and then backing off until I’d recovered some control–edging me. I remained in position, not touching him, our eyes locked together. I’d been told to give him whatever he wanted–occupying his time and attention was the point. He wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted.

    He placed his other hand on my right bicep and ran it up over my shoulder. He grasped my throat with it in a strong grip, and I saw a flare in his eyes of cruelty and lust. I fought not to show fear, to hold his eyes with mine in a level stare. I maybe could have taken him in a fair fight, but a fight with the prince would not have been fair. Even if I weren’t under instruction to let him win–to let him have whatever he wanted–there was the other man, the bodyguard, nearby to assist him. There was no question that the bodyguard would assist in whatever the prince wanted.

    I briefly panicked, wondering if there had been encounters like this before in which the prince wanted it all, including his prey’s life. I knew of the scandals, of the rumors of orgies and missing young men. Had I enflamed him too much by playing this game with him in the shower? I’d had the Agency courses on hand-to-hand combat. So had he. Where he had his thumb and fingers positioned on my throat, he could easily either black me out or snap my neck. He clearly wanted me to know that too.

    Releasing me, he slid his hand slowly down my chest and belly and then down onto my right flank. All the time he continued stroking me off with the other hand. He came in close, touching his forehead to mine, and his hand went around to my buttocks. There was pleasure in his eyes. I had been told that he admired commando-hard bodies, and I knew mine would meet muster. I flinched as a finger penetrated my ass, but still I held steady. He hadn’t been quite able to reach my hole as he squeezed one of my butt cheeks, but it was evident where he was headed, and I submissively jutted my pelvis forward to give his finger access. He was looking for my reaction to penetration–testing how far I would go with him. My signal was of complete surrender to his desire and need. Causing my sphincter muscle to grasp the finger and pull it in clearly told him I was willing and able.

    Beyond a slight smile, he went no further, though, pulling away from me, touching me only with the hand stroking my cock and with his eyes locked on mine. He was going to the edge again, and I sensed he’d go over the edge now. He was watching for the moment of climax, and I gave him a grimace and a look of lust, awe, and total surrender I knew he’d like as I shot my load.

    When I had ejaculated, he gave me a little smile and a nod of his head, and exited the shower. He took the towel from the soldier, and they padded off. Trembling a bit, I placed my cheek to the cool tiles of the shower’s back wall and let the water continue to flow over me. I spread my arms and pressed my palms to the tiles in a cruciform sacrificial form of total submission. Jutting my buttocks out from the wall, I half expected the prince to return, mount my ass, and fuck me. I more than half wanted him to. The exotic nature of this encounter had brought me more arousal and been more pleasurable than I had thought the first intimate meeting with him would be–I hadn’t even been sure that he would find me desirable, that there would be an intimate encounter. I had been focused on seducing him–not considering that he might seduce me. God help me, I wanted him to return and complete the coupling.

    But he didn’t, and when I finally turned the shower off, toweled myself dry, and walked out into the locker room, he was gone. Two soldiers were standing on either side of the door to the corridor, but they were impassive. If they watched me dress, they gave no hint of doing so.

    I hoped that wouldn’t be it. I would have failed if that was all there was to it. Winterberry certainly wouldn’t be pleased if that was the full extent of the prince’s interest in me that I could generate.

    An army car was waiting for me outside the military academy administration building. Winterberry and the COS had driven me over, but they’d told me to make my own way back to the embassy to report to them–the embassy was just down the street from the military academy compound.

    Two soldiers were in the front seat of the car and a Spider Regiment major was in the backseat. I recognized the insignia on his shoulder. When he asked me where I wanted to go, I told him my hotel. It might be suspicious if I went directly back to the embassy from here.

    He said nothing else to me and sat ramrod straight beside me in the car. If he knew what the prince and I had been doing in the shower–which he undoubtedly did–he said nothing to indicate it, nor did he signal to me in any way that I was the submissive male whore that I just had been. When we got to the hotel and the doorman had opened my door, the major leaned over and handed me an envelope with the seal of the palace on it.

    “I’ll be here at 9:00 tonight to escort you,” he said as I exited the vehicle. I turned to ask him what he meant, but the doorman had already shut the car door and the vehicle was moving off.

    I opened the envelope and pulled out a thick card. The writing was fancy and in ink. I marveled that it had been prepared in such a short time. I was being summoned by the prince for a late supper at the palace that night.

    So, Winterberry had been right. That this was the right approach to the prince. Now it was up to me to reel him in.

    * * * *

    A week earlier I was in the last days of the Agency’s Deep Cover Commando course at Camp Perry in Williamsburg, Virginia. I was on my back on my bed in my Spartan cinderblock walled room, my arms over my head, my hands gripping the brass headboard rail, my knuckles bruised by the banging of the headboard against the wall, my pelvis elevated, with my knees bent and my feet pressed to the mattress, giving me leverage to counterpiston Denzel’s wicked thrusts.

    A black bull, Denzel Jackson, my commando course instructor, was crouched over my body, between my spread thighs. His fists gripped my wrists, his forehead was plastered to mine, he was grunting deeply in harmony with my tortured moans, his toes digging into the mattress as he did pushups on my body. The bull’s horn was throbbing, stretching, punishing my channel brutally. He was close to either giving me his load or killing me with his monster dick. I was beyond caring which.

    I had gone completely docile and submissive to him. The belt he’d used to beat me with when I was still struggling with him–wanting him but knowing that being caught with a man here was a career killer–was curled on the floor beside the bed. The slashing strikes of the leather on my back, thighs, buttocks, and chest had only aroused me and made me want him inside me more. It was a fetish I wasn’t proud of but that had helped pull me into the rough military life.

    The door to the corridor banged open and a man in a suit, tall and gangly, pushing middle age, hard but wiry, came in, pulled a chair up to the bed, and sat down.

    Surprised and shocked, I tried to twist to the other side of the bed and roll out from underneath Jackson, but the black brute held me in place. His dick was still inside me, deep, throbbing and stretching, but he was in a holding pattern.

    “No, don’t let me bother you,” the man said, in a mocking baritone. “Finish him sergeant.”

    Three more thrusts and Jackson’s body jerked and I knew he’d filled the bulb of the rubber. Once again, I made to move out from underneath him, totally nonplused with embarrassment–and fear too. Men got drummed out of the Agency for behavior like this, and I’d fought like hell–and covered up so much–to get in the Agency.

    “No, stay like that, please,” the man said. “It obviates any denying and excusing you might try to do before our little talk is over. I don’t have much time.” Jackson remained hovering over me, his dick going flaccid but still inside me, his fists still gripping my wrists at the headboard.

    “We have need in the short term for a young man with the looks and skills and the proclivities you obviously have, Jack,” the man continued. “Taking the belt was a nice–and useful–touch. Jackson wasn’t sure you would. My name is Winterberry, and I run a special unit that works in special ways. Are you with me so far? No, don’t bother to look embarrassed. We’re beyond that point. Are you with me so far?”

    “Yes,” I squeaked. “Get him off me, though.”

    “I like to talk to my recruits in this position, Jack. It makes it so much easier for them to say yes. We don’t have to have any pretense about what they will do–what they want to do. Tell me, have you ever heard of Prince ___, and he reeled off a name that seemed to go on and on–from the country of ___, and he named a country.”

    “I’ve heard of the country, of course.” I answered. I didn’t have to admit I’d never heard of Prince Whathisname.

    “The prince is a military man, Jack. He likes all things military and he likes military men. He likes to fuck hard-bodied military men. He also is partial to the lash, which I think you will appreciate.”

    He gave me an amused look and I shuddered for him.

    “He’s rather a nuisance to us and to other Western countries as well, however,” Winterberry continued. “He’s more than a little bit crazy and he likes to go to war. We’d prefer not having any active wars in his region of the world, Jack. Therefore we–the Americans and the British and the French–do what we can to keep him distracted so that we can keep him entertained and out of his country. Do you follow me so far?”

    “Yes, but where do I come in?”

    “Well, you’ve done very well in our course here. You are presentable and hard bodied. And, of course”–and here he paused to smile wanly at me–“you obviously have no trouble letting men fuck you–and to give you a bit of the taste of the whip. Have you enjoyed this course, Jack?”

    “Yes, but what–?”

    “Would you recommend it to another rugged Ranger type?”

    “Certainly.”

    “Good. We want you to sell this course to the prince. I understand you are a semipro tennis player too.”

    “I do well enough, yes, but–”

    “A week from Saturday, you, as a TDYer at our embassy in ___,” and here he named an Asian capital city, “have a celebrity tennis game date with our errant prince. We will set up a close encounter with him, and we want you to sell him on a long-form of this course here at Camp Perry. Now, that’s the broad-brush operation plan here. I don’t think you need to know more. But I suppose you should know the risk. The prince sometimes becomes overenthusiastic. There have been loses, but, as he’s the prince, he suffers no consequences for his excesses. He has no concept of limitations. You’ll have to do enough to win him over but not too much.”

    “So, my life will be in danger.”

    “Your life will always be in danger in this work, Jack. You knew this before you sought to join the Agency–and you did apply. We didn’t coerce you.”

    “At least not to this point,” I said.

    He didn’t respond directly; he pointed to the corner of the room, where the wall met the ceiling. “Perhaps what you’d want to know is what those little devices are in the upper corners of your room here. Didn’t notice that they just appeared, did you?”

    I looked more closely to where he was pointing. Two video cameras, not too well camouflaged. I’d been is such high heat when Jackson pulled me into the room that I hadn’t seen them before.

    “Now, you have two choices, Jack. We can use the film footage of your little exercise session with the sergeant here or you can start boning up on the Asian assignment. Which is it?”

    “If you do this assignment well, you not only won’t be kicked out, but you will come to work for me in a special Agency unit that uses the skills and proclivities you’ve already exhibited. Otherwise, yes, you’ll be outed and ousted.”

    “If you put it that way . . .” I didn’t have to complete the sentence.

    “OK, you can go now, Sergeant. Thank you for your help. No, Jack, stay where you are, please.” He had stood up and he was stripping off his clothes. He was hard bodied for his age, lean but hard. He had a dong that wasn’t thick but it might have drooped to his knees if it wasn’t hard and sticking out in a slight, cruel upcurve.

    “I control my agents the old fashioned way, Jack. Your boning up on this assignment is going to start with me boning you, taking you for a test drive. We’ve established that you have agreed to the assignment. I need to know that you have what it takes to do the assignment.”

    Jackson was out of me, off of me, and out of the room. Winterberry climbed on top of me in the position Jackson had vacated, thrust inside me, deep, and started banging me hard. He was good. Despite the embarrassment and fear, I lifted my pelvis to him and went with the rhythm of the fuck. After a few minutes he pulled out of me and rose from the bed. I looked up and into his eyes, which flashed a cruel intensity. He had picked the belt up from the floor and was snapping it against his leg. I moaned and turned onto my belly.

    I jerked up my head and cried out, “Yes, yes!” as the stinging lashes rained on my back. I made an effort to rise again and he hit me with the belt again. Harder. With a deep moan, I sank to the bed on my belly, throwing my arms out to the side in submission. His arm went under my belly and he coaxed me up to my knees, my chest still flat on the bed, me panting heavily. When he remounted me and began to pump again, I was whimpering and begging him for the fuck, reaching new heights of pain-pleasure.

    What he proceeded to do was to give a clinic on fucking a man, not only taking me in a variety of positions but testing my flexibility and endurance. He fucked and beat me until he broke me–until I was a whimpering puddle of pain, sexual satiation, and exhaustion. But when he left me, he declared me fit for duty in his unit, which I was to learn was high praise from the man.

    * * * *

    I was told it was the game room that I was ushered into and I didn’t have any trouble figuring out what kind of games were played here. A large bed, covered in silken pillows of many vibrant colors, dominated one wall. Two French provincial arm chairs, with cigarette tables next to them, were set facing each other about four feet from the foot of the bed. Other than that, the room was dominated by BDSM equipment. I readily recognized a set of chains ending in wrist restraints hanging from a hook in the ceiling beside something that looked like a sawhorse, covered in black padded vinyl. A black leather sling was hung from the ceiling in one corner. To my left was a table with restraints on it, and a long table against the wall with an assortment of sex torture tools on it. And, intriguingly, there was what looked like a kneeling bench with the yoke of stocks on its rail.

    The men who escorted me into the room were hard-bodied soldiers in physique and bearing and were in dress whites–white gloves and white tunics over black trousers. The prince himself, who rose and met me half way to the door I’d entered, was wearing camouflage fatigues, with heavy black combat boots. Two gold stars gleamed on either shoulder. The top two buttons of his tunic were unbuttoned. His hard chest was smooth, the pecs bulging. A Buddha image on a heavy gold chain nestled between his pecs.

    “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said in greeting. He spoke in a low, hoarse tone, but his English, as I had found on the tennis court was impeccable, with a British bent. He’d said nothing in the shower. He’d let his actions speak for him, and they had spoken volumes.

    “You knew after our last meeting that I wouldn’t be able to stay away,” I answered, giving him a direct stare. He smiled at this flattery, this acknowledgment of his charisma, seductive in its own exotic–and scary–way, as I had already discovered.

    “You are a connoisseur of physical pleasure . . . and pain . . . then, I am thinking.”

    “More a student,” I responded. “I believe that you are the connoisseur. I am more a servant in these matters.” This obviously pleased him as well.

    “You are at my service then?”

    “As you wish . . . what you wish.”

    “As long as I wish?”

    I gave him a slight bow, lowering my head in submission.

    He lifted an eyebrow and smiled again.

    “This is my game room,” he said, letting both of his arms make a sweeping gesture toward the room.

    “Apparently,” I answered.

    “Are you afraid or put off? I would be disappointed, but I don’t force men. I use them hard, but only with their submission. You can leave now if you wish.” He ran the back of a hand down my cheek, ending with a thumb pressed under my chin, where I knew that, if enough pressure was applied, I’d be put out of commission.

    “No, I’m not disappointed. Yes, I’m afraid. But I assume that’s what you want.”

    “That’s what pleasures me, yes. Men with magnificent bodies. Military men. Reduced to submission. Conquered. Vanquished. Completely open to me. Are you willing to submit all or do you wish to leave?”

    “No, I’ll stay,” I said. Winterberry had not really given me an option. I wasn’t sure the prince was giving me an option either. I strongly suspected I’d been given to him to do as he pleased.

    “Your Mr. Shackleford tells me you are military. The Marines? An officer?”

    “Yes. I’m a captain. But I am not in a regular unit.” I had been given a military cover. It was important, I was told, for the prince’s men to be military–and in special units.

    “Tell me, have you seen hand-to-hand combat. Killed men in battle?”

    “I probably shouldn’t answer that.”

    “Have you endured pain on the battlefield?”

    “Yes, certainly,” I replied.

    “And how did that make you feel, Jack? Did it scare you? Did it start your adrenaline pumping? Did it make you go hard? For some men, the fear and pain heighten the pleasure. It takes men to new sexual heights. I am such a man. Are you?” He was standing close to me now. He had one hand on one of my upper arms, but the other one was on my crotch. He knew that I was hard.

    “Yes it makes me hard,” I answered. “The pain and fear heighten the pleasure for me.” I let my breath out in admitting that. It’s what I would have to say, what I’d been sent here to endure. But I had to admit that it was true nonetheless. But the fallacy here was that I was quite sure that the prince wasn’t saying that his pain would heighten his sexual pleasure. I was sure that it was my pain that would do that for him.

    “We normally would have supper first,” he said. “But I haven’t been able to think of anything but you since this afternoon. I want you to strip down for me, Jack. I want for you to give me pleasure and I want to use you in a way that will make you feel alive. Take off your clothes for me–all of them. I am going to use you hard.”

    He backed off but just a few steps so that he could watch me as I undressed. Two hulky attendants stepped forward and took my items of clothing as I took them off. The attendants neatly folded them and placed them on an ottoman. I knew that later they would be returned without a crease in them. I would be the one to show the creases. The prince hadn’t said he’d disrobe too, and he didn’t. But he did unbutton the fly of his fatigue pants, worked his cock out, and was stroking it as I undressed.

    While two of the attendants folded and took away my clothes another two stepped forward with objects in their hands. When I was naked, the prince stepped in close again, encased both of our cocks in one hand and began to frot them–stroking them together. His other hand went over my shoulder to the back of my head, where he dug his fingers into my scalp and pulled my head back painfully. Obviously it was the pain that was important to him, so I grimaced for him. Normally, I would fight that, but I decided he want to see it.

    The attendants got busy. My arms were pulled behind my back and my wrists were bound together. Another attendant was at my feet, attaching a leg extender that bound my ankles and held my legs in a wide stance. Yet another attendant attached weights to my balls that pulled them downward and then, as I gave a little yelp, attached nipple clamps to my nubs. The clamps were joined with a metal chain, which, taking his hand from our cocks, the prince jerked down, causing me to yelp louder.

    “Are you enjoying the pain?” he asked. “Can you feel the pleasure of it?”

    “Yes,” I whispered. And then I groaned as his fist closed over my balls and he squeezed them hard. I moaned and almost cried out, doubling up and going toward the floor with my knees. He let me go down on my knees, which put my face at the level of his cock, which he thumped against my cheeks until I opened my mouth to it and gave him head.

    They put me on the kneeling rail, with my neck and wrists in the stocks and my knees on the pad. The prince was in front of me, feeding me his cock, and one of the attendants was behind me working my ass open with a lubricated dildo. There would be no condoms. One of the glories of the Agency’s technical research was in inventing a pill to protect men from the known diseases of unprotected six. Winterberry had first used it with me, saying he abhorred rubbers. A package of the pills had come with me as a gift to the prince, and he had seemed to be delighted with them. For one thing, he said that such a gift dispensed with any pretense or preparation for why I was here.

    When he felt prepared sufficiently, the prince came back around to behind me. He beat me, on the back and legs, mostly lightly, but with a few strokes of enthusiasm, with a wide leather belt. Tiring of this and as my cries of surprise and violation subsided into low moans and whimpering, he mounted my ass and fucked me to an ejaculation, edging me with his cock as he had done with his hand in the showers. The pain involved, of course, was all mine, and the dick work was the least of it. I had been opened up well, and, though he was thick, he wasn’t long, and his rhythm was very military–a steady beat without invention that would surprise and make me gasp at being off cadence or more cruel than anything else he had done to me.

    I couldn’t say it was the best fuck I’d ever had–strangely enough Winterberry gave the best fuck I’d ever had. He not only was cruel and demanding but he also was inventive and could make me gasp with a change in cadence. But I couldn’t deny that the domination and control of it–and the fear of what was to come–with the prince aroused me to unusual heights. He entered me strong and thick, and he understood how to punish the prostate with his bulb. I came before him–and then again with him.

    His attendants, in their pristine white tunics and gloves, and well-pressed black trousers stood at attention around the room, seemingly not watching what the prince was doing to me, but ever ready to respond to his every whim. I wondered how many other young men he’d brought here and done the same with. And I wondered how many of those young men had walked out of here alive.

    One thing I did know was that if they didn’t, the prince’s attendants would clean up and paper over everything–and that my handlers would just walk away. That knowledge alone should have frightened the shit out of me, but I was learning something about myself in this sexual torture chamber, something that frightened me even more–that this, all of this, aroused me more, made me harder and more sexually charged, than I’d ever been before.

    * * * *

    I might have thought the supper was downright civilized if I wasn’t sitting in one of the French Provincial chairs with a folding table in front of me and still in the nude. It also would have been less worrisome if the prince hadn’t said, “We’ll resume after we’ve eaten.” When I was freed from the stocks, one of the attendants had rubbed salve on my back and legs–although they didn’t hurt as much as they stung after the salve was applied–and I was helped to the chair–which had been covered in a cloth that I hoped wasn’t absorbent enough for the prince not to remember my visit with a bit of regret. No doubt the pillow they added to make me more comfortable did soak it all up, though.

    He was without tunic now too, as were his attendants, his having been discarded when he got overheated in using my body. They all had good bodies. I must admit that I did some dreaming of more than one of the attendants fucking me too. But that didn’t happen. I guess that would be some form of lese majesty here–taking sloppy seconds from their prince in his presence–unless, of course, that was one of the many kinks that turned him on.

    The food was delicate and delectable. The drink was good Scotch. The conversation was a bit strange. He’d worked my body over and fucked me and, during supper, he was like a little kid with his toys in wanting to talk military hardware. He was totally oblivious to how he had degraded and used and abused me. What had been as intimate as it could have been for me to the point that the rest of the world had disappeared and it had become just the two of us working together as one grasping fucking machine striving for the highest arousal and release and balance of pain and pleasure possible appeared to be impersonal exercise to him. He prattled on as if we were sitting together at a seminar waiting for it to begin. He’d just had his dick inside me, pumping me with cum that I could still feel squishing around deep in my intestines, and had been licking blood off the welts on my back that he had put there, for fuck’s sake.

    He knew all of the guns used in the armies of the major countries as well as their comparable advantages and disadvantages. I couldn’t keep up with him, but there was little indication he needed me to.

    “I’ve inspected an M1A3 Abrams tank,” he said enthusiastically. “I suppose you have seen it as well.”

    “No, I haven’t,” I answered. “I have specialized in commando operations and we don’t see many tanks in that form of battle.” I had a mission here. I needed to bring the conversation around to the Camp Perry special commando warfare course.

    “My favorite attack helicopter is the Apache. I’m sure you’ve been in those in commando operations.”

    “Yes, of course,” I said.

    “I have flown those. I have qualified on those. Did you know that?” He was gushing now, his eyes flashing. He was attractive this way. I wouldn’t mind going with him for a straight fuck. I wondered how he was in covering a true lover in a missionary position marked by heavy kissing and long, deep strokes inside a channel that had gone soft and spongy for him, caressing every inch of the most he could fill out to.

    I suspect he’d never tried that. I momentarily considered trying to seduce him to that, but then I remembered I was here for a specific, short-term purpose. I couldn’t become involved with this crazy man. I’d best concentrate on surviving him.

    “No, I didn’t know that,” I said. But, of course, I did. I’d been told he’d inspected and been trained in every system that kept him out of his country and occupied with his toys. “Then you would be a double threat if you also had the commando training. You would be qualified to fly in and also to perform the mission.”

    “Would I?” he asked, clearly intrigued by this thought. It was time to strike.

    “I’ve just been on an Agency training course on special commando operations. It was a terrific course. You have done that one?”

    “No, I don’t think so. A good course, you say?”

    “First rate. Terrific. I think it would be just the thing for you. I could mention the possibility of you’re being invited to do the course. I think one will be starting soon.”

    “Would you?”

    “Of course, I’d be happy to.” If you let me live, I might have added. Mission accomplished. I started thinking of a successful exit strategy. It had been fun, but . . .

    The prince had other ideas. After supper, as two of his attendants were suspending me from the ceiling hook with the wrist restraints, another attendant was handing the prince a hand whip. He was fully naked now, and in erection. With a gleam in his eye, he was telling me how much fun we were going to have–new heights of pain-pleasure.

    I was able to take this session more calmly, as there was every indication I would survive it. I had him hooked on the Agency course, and he thought that I would have to propose him for it for him to be invited to take the course. I couldn’t do that if I was dead.

    * * * *

    I was taken directly from the palace to a private clinic that probably specialized in recovering the prince’s pain-pleasure subjects and knew how to keep its treatment private. I, of course, wasn’t charged for anything. There were no broken bones and the welts and cuts weren’t even that serious. It was more a matter of keeping them from becoming infected. Either the station at the embassy wasn’t told where I was, they didn’t think it wise to let the palace know I was close to them, or they just didn’t give a shit. No one visited me in hospital. I’d done my work. That was more important than whether I would survive the operation.

    Four days later when one of the local country’s military cars returned me to the hotel, Sam Winterberry was waiting for me with the news that the prince was delighted to accept the invitation to take the special commando course at Camp Perry.

    “The Agency is busy building a course that will take three times as long as the normal one and finding the right students to take the course with the prince,” Winterberry said. He was sitting in a chair by my bed, which I was lying on on my belly, as it would be a while before I wanted to lie on my back–or my buttocks, for that matter.

    “Your next assignment, in case you wondered, will be as an assistant teacher of that course. The prince, of course, will stay at one of the camp’s guest houses rather than at the student dormitory. He’ll naturally bring attendants, but he was pleased when he was told you’d be involved in the course and could bunk in his quarters to help him acclimate to the camp.”

    “He was pleased, was he?” I said, accompanied by the semblance of a moan. “And I have an ongoing assignment, do I? You’re not going to follow regs and drum me out of the Agency for having homosexual relations?”

    “No, of course not,” Winterberry said with a smile. “The regs are the regs, of course, and if need be at any time to separate you from the Firm, we can fall back on them. But, in fact, you did a bang up job of this operation and I head up a unit that uses talent such as yours. Some say that espionage is the oldest profession, while others say it’s prostitution. We at the Agency are quite happy to marry the two. We’ve found the blend to be quite successful.”

    “What now?” I asked.

    “Now I’d like to do an inspection of where we stand on your fitness for maybe an interim assignment before you return to Camp Perry.” He stood up, came around to the foot of the bed, reached up and around my waist, and undid my belt buckle. He was pulling my trousers and briefs off, when I asked him what he was doing.

    “As I said, I need to take a look at these welts to see how long they might put you out of commission.” He had his hands on my bare buttocks and was separating the globes and blowing on my hole.

    “Most of the damage is on my back,” I said.

    “We’ll see to that eventually,” he said cheerfully. “I also want to remind you who is in charge–who you work for and must please.”

    I groaned as he buried his face in my crack and went for my hole with his tongue.

    As he came up on the bed, positioned himself over me, placed the bulb of his cock at my entrance and penetrated me and started to pump, I groaned in the knowledge of who owned me now.


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