Author: admin

It was in a typical student nightclub during Freshers’ Week when I first laid eyes on Dean. And it was (unrequited) love at first sight.

I was in my second year and later found out he’d just started, but it worked out that we were both 20 at the time.

Moving to a new town for university had given me the courage to finally come out, meaning it was the first time I was able to talk to friends about men I fancied.  

Turning to my flatmate, a stunning half Thai girl called Emmy, I said, “Oh my God, look at him!”  

Dean was a charmer; there was no other way to describe him. Over the next couple of years, I watched as everyone – gay, straight, men, women – flocked to him, eager to be around him. But nobody more desperate than me.  

He was on the shorter side, around five foot six, but made up for it with a beefy body from his dedication to the gym.  

Dean had black hair that was always slightly longer on top and shorter at the sides. His eyes were the type of blue you read about but rarely come across in real life.

His dazzling smile lit up every room he entered, and Dean had the most adorable dimples.

That night in the club, he was sitting with three girls which gave me hope he might play for the same team as me.

In comparison to Dean, I was skinny and had never step foot in a gym, with mousy brown hair and average looks.

But the cheap booze and nudges from Emmy and our friend Seema, a gorgeous British Indian girl, gave me confidence to approach him.

Confident bordering on cocky, Dean was surprisingly approachable though it was immediately obvious he was straight. The girls with him were simply his flatmates.  

We hit it off instantly but there was no doubt he knew why I was talking to him. I’m not sure if it was an ego thing or he felt sorry for me, but he suggested we swap numbers and – to my surprise – from that moment, for the next two years, we didn’t go a day without speaking.

But as we left the club that night and jumped in a taxi, Seema turned to me and said, in her strong Leeds accent, “Be careful, Jack. You’ve been here before.”  

She was right. The previous year they’d all watched as I fell for a barman who led me on for months before ultimately leaving me crushed. We never did work out if he was gay or straight.

Staying away from Dean would be easier said than done, though.

I worked part-time in a well-known clothing store and just two weeks later Dean arrived for his first shift.

When he clocked me, his eyes lit up and he shouted, “Jacky boy!” He walked towards me before pulling me in for a massive hug.

It makes me cringe to admit this, but I felt elation rushing through me at the warm greeting.

Sure, we’d been messaging on BBM (yes, I’m that old) pretty much non-stop since meeting and had hung out on campus a few times.

But he was acting like we were proper mates, which I was only too happy to reciprocate.

My lust for him quickly turned to obsession. Every night out he invited me on, I was there. I’d spend hours at the store on my days off when he was on shift just talking to him. I expressed a fake interest in building up my body just so I could join him at the gym, where he was more than happy to show me the ropes. And I acted like it was the end of the world when he took longer than a couple of hours to reply to my messages.

I looked forward to those gym sessions, or rather the moments in the changing rooms afterwards.

Dean would strip down to his tight boxers, showing off his big chest and sizeable bulge.

 He gave no indication that he felt uncomfortable around me as he changed and even caught me staring more than a few times. Dean would just flash a cheeky smile and say, “I’m starving, bro. Up for a Nando’s?”

There was no way Dean wasn’t aware of my feelings for him. But he didn’t push me away. Instead, he was affectionate with me, always hugging me and kissing me on the cheek. He’d tell me he loved me and that I was his best mate.

But that wasn’t enough for me. Friends tried to snap me out of it, but I was too far gone.

Over the next year and a half our relationship grew increasingly intense – mostly because of me.

I’d be forced to watch on as he got with girls on nights out, almost always ending up in tears. As a result, I’d get angry – with him and anyone else around.

One night, after he’d been turning on the charm with his latest girl, Dean spotted me and walked over. He put his arm around my shoulder, leading me to the bar, and said, “Drink time, Jacky boy. What you having?”

But I saw red, pulling away from him and launching into a tirade of abuse before I could stop myself.

Dean tried to calm me down, but I turned and stormed off. Eventually he caught up with me and asked, “What’s up, mate?”

“‘What’s up?’ Are you having a fucking laugh?” I spat.

By that point in our friendship, Dean was obviously aware of the situation which was of course out of his control.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Fuck’s sake, Jack. What do you want from me?”

“Just fuck off back to your bird, yeah!” I screamed before running off, breaking down in tears and heading home.

I’m ashamed to admit that many more nights out ended in a similar way. I could tell I was pushing Dean away.

His messages were less frequent, there were no more gym sessions, and he stopped inviting me out as much.

Then came one night when it all changed. I’m still wondering if it was for better or worse.

It was our monthly team night out and I’d invited everyone from the store to my flat for pre-drinks.

Of course, the moment Dean arrived I was giddy and fussing over him with drinks and anything else he needed.

By then, it was no secret that I was head-over-heels for the North London boy even though it was never spoken about.

 For the first time in ages, I felt as if things were back to normal between us after my many drunken outbursts.

I sat on the arm of the sofa next to him, but he pulled me onto his lap. “Where you been, Jacky boy? Feel like I haven’t seen you for ages.”

We slipped back into our usual banter. At one point, he took his snapback off and put it on my head, joking: “It looks much better on you, bro.”

Everyone laughed but I foolishly allowed myself to wonder if that was what it would be like if Dean was my boyfriend.  

Eventually we piled into taxis and headed for the club. I was determined to show Dean I could behave like a normal person and willed myself to behave.

But then I saw it: Dean was kissing our co-worker Nas, a beautiful red-headed half Jamaican girl – someone who I believed to be a close friend and who knew all about my situation.

I stormed off to the smoking area, drunk and upset, and was still there when Nas stumbled out.  

“Hey, love,” she sang. I just fixed her with an incredulous look.  

“You ok?” Nas asked while lighting a cigarette.  

Dumbfounded, I hit back, “Nas, I just saw you kissing Dean!”  

She rolled her eyes. “Babe, he’s straight. You can’t lock him off if nothing is ever going to happen between you guys.”  

I’d had enough. Storming out of the smoking area I bumped into Dean, who asked, “Where you going, bro?”

“Do one, Dean,” I spat. “Nas is out there, she’s obviously who you’re looking for.”  

Later that night I was curled up on the sofa, out of tears and out of beers, listening to sad songs and seriously considering moving home the next day.  

Then I heard a knock at the door. Safety was clearly not an issue for the building managers as, unless you physically locked it, anybody could just walk into your flat.  

And it was Dean who suddenly appeared in my living room.

After an awkward moment of silence, he said, “Why’d you leave, Jacky boy?”

I turned so I was no longer facing him and heard him approach the sofa.

Dean sat down and put his hand on my shoulder.  “Jack, this has got to stop,” he said gently.

Now I looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears.  “Is it my fault?” he asked. “Have I led you on?”

I was lost for words at him acknowledging the situation. “Dean… I’m sorry…” I sat up, giving him space to move next to me.  

Dean put his arm around me and pulled me in. “No, mate. I’m sorry. I’ve always known but I suppose I thought we’d work it out because I love spending time with you. I’m not lying when I say you’re my best mate. When you’re not being a psycho, obviously.”

He managed a weak laugh, and I smiled. “So, what is this then?” He asked.  

“What do you mean?” I replied.  “People are saying that you’re like in love with me or something. I just thought you fancied me,” he said.  

My face clearly said it all, because – looking slightly surprised – he asked, “You are?”  

Figuring I had nothing to lose, I said, “I think so. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know what it feels like, but the way I feel when I see you cracking on with girls, I’d say almost definitely.”  

For a few moments we were both silent. Then he turned, looking me dead in the eye. “I’m not gay, Jack.”  

I started to speak but he cut me off. “I’m not gay, but it makes me feel like shit knowing I’m hurting you like this.”  

Before I knew what was happening, Dean was closing the space between our faces. I felt his lips brush mine, before he pulled back slightly.  

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want…” At that moment in time, I needed him – more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.  

I pushed my lips onto his, willing him not to reject me. And he didn’t. I ran my tongue over his lips, before his mouth parted and he reciprocated the kiss.  

Our tongues were almost fighting as he put his hands on my head and pulled me in.  I dared to put my hands up his polo shirt, running them over his gym-fit body and felt him moan slightly.  

Then he stood up and I was sure he was about to walk out on me.  

But he held his hand out and pulled me up, saying, “Come on.”  Dean led the way to my bedroom where he kissed me again as we fell onto the bed.  

I climbed on top of him, pulling his top off while admiring his body. He laughed and flexed his pecs.  

As we kissed, my hand found his belt and I unbuckled it. Feeling him jerk as I did, pulled away from his mouth, looking deep into his eyes.  

“Jack… I’m not sure this is going to make things better…”  

My face fell and he looked pained momentarily, before saying, “I’m not going to be able to go anywhere near your dick, bro.”  

That made me laugh, as I purred, “That’s not a problem.”

I pulled his belt off and pulled his jeans down, revealing a pair of black Calvin Klein trunks showing off his semi-hard bulge.

Wasting no time, I whipped them off and got my first look at his thick uncut cock, heavy-looking balls and trimmed black pubes.

His dick was growing and already at around seven inches.  

I swooped down and took it into my mouth, working the skin up and down with my hand.  

Dean moaned, putting a hand on the back of my head to gently guide me.  

It wasn’t long before he was at full mast and tickling the back of my throat.

As I worked on his cock and played with his balls, Dean started thrusting into my mouth.  

His obvious enjoyment spurred me on, and I managed to deep throat his thick cock, causing him to cry, “Oh fuck. Yeah, that’s it.”  

Fucking my throat with his dick, I ran my hands over his body and gently tweaked his nipples, which sent Dean wild.  

He continued to push my head down, his thrusts becoming more urgent.  

I could taste his pre-cum and lapped up every drop, swirling my tongue under his foreskin and around the large head.  

Suddenly he groaned, “I’m going to cum, Jack.” I made sure his dick was deep in my throat when I felt him fire his load, moaning and jerking above me.  

As I pulled off his cock, I noticed Dean was staring blankly at the ceiling and prepared myself for his regret.  

Despite his obvious conflicting feelings, when I crawled up the bed Dean put his arm around me and pulled me in.  

But then he said it.  

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” he turned to look at me. “This is probably never going to happen again. And I know that’s not what you want to hear.”  

It was a testament to how much our friendship clearly meant to him when Dean kissed my head gently and snuggled in, getting comfortable instead of bolting.

 “I love you – seriously, I do – but not in that way.”  

Sensous touch

Like many other nights, I had nightmares. It was something that unfortunately happened to me at least twice a month. And again I thought of sleeping in my brother’s room, in his bed, for he knew of my frequent bad dreams and agreed.

I said I still have nightmares even if I’m already 29. I’m Colby Croft and I’ve always been, say, a go-getter, and I’ve already had six different jobs but at present I work for a dairy company. They lend me a truck and I deliver milk in all nearby supermarkets in all towns of the county.

Robinson Croft was not asleep yet when he saw me again entering his bedroom and after asking me.

-Another nightmare, Colby?

I nodded and as usual he invited me to share the bed.

My brother has just turned 27 and worked as a nurse and I had come to live with him and we shared this apartment on the fifth floor.

Once in his bed, I wasn’t asleep yet but I had a slight slumber when I first felt thrilled but totally surprised for Robinson was groping my bum. The next day I knew that my briefs had come down just enough so that part of my ass was visible. I thought then that my brother was gay but the next day I knew this wasn’t true but he was just a great lover of girls’ asses and suddenly had also been aroused at the vision of his brother’s ass.

He never stopped his hands and I preferred to pretend I was asleep for I don’t know what happened to me then but I loved his sensuous hands groping me in such an intimate part of my body. I couldn’t remember now if any of the girls I had been with had groped my ass but I thought: “I want Robinson to keep on touching my ass so I will say nothing and go on pretending I’m asleep.”

Soon I felt him letting my boxers down and I also felt he was jacking off. What I felt in that moment is a total security that I even wanted Robinson to cum at the vision of my ass. What I was feeling is impossible to describe but in just a quarter of an hour I knew for sure I would always need to have some hands running down my buttocks, I was rock hard! This unexpected act from Robinson was driving me crazy, even noticing the sound of my brother’s dick constantly masturbating. I knew he would never rape me so I was sure I wanted him to go on till he came.

And suddenly I felt him cumming. Probably he had not intended to cum but drops of his semen fell on my bum. Just then I decided to talk to him.

-Did you have fun, Robinson?

-Oh shit! I thought you were asleep, Colby.

-I have enjoyed what you were doing so I let you go on, that simple. It’s not only been fun for you, also for me. And now please let’s sleep. I have no nightmares now, just the opposite: you’ve made me relax -I said smiling looking into his eyes-. Tomorrow we will talk, but don’t worry. I’ll never reproach you anything. Good night, Robinson.

-Good night, Colby.

And then we slept and for me it was one of the nights I had slept more calmly as if after now I would need my brother’s hands on my ass so that I had no more nightmares.

When I woke up, I first waited for him to also wake up. When he did, five minutes later, he told me good morning shyly, stood up, got dressed and went to the kitchen for breakfast.

Just then I decided I would first take off my briefs and enter the kitchen with a visible ass so that Robinson was sure that I didn’t reproach him and on the contrary, I wanted him to still be horny at my ass.

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When I turned eighteen I was the first person in my family to go to college.  My dad had back surgery and my uncle Junior moved me to my dorm.  One of my boxes fell open and my daddy bear gay magazine fell out.  My uncle picked it up, flipped through it and winked.  After we unloaded his truck he took me to a diner down the street and we got some lunch. It was a blue plate special kind of place.  My uncle told me he was going to use the pay phone.   He called his wife and told her he was tired from the long drive and moving my stuff into the dorm.  When he returned to the table he said he was getting a motel and staying the night.  He drove about five miles out of town and got a room.  He stopped at a drug store and picked up toothpaste, a tooth brush and a bar of Irish Spring soap.  Damn…to this day when I smell that soap I think about the first time I sucked his cock.  

I’ve always been a cock sucker.  Boy Scouts, church camp, football locker room, etc….that night I went back to the Scottish Inn with my uncle.  Once we got inside the door he told me….get naked….and drop to my knees.  Uncle Junior was a thick, chunky guy.  Very handsome, jet black hair and a hairy chest.  We got on the bed and he stood over me and fucked my face.   He jerked me off and as he stroked my cock he finger my boy pussy.  We had sex four times that night.  When he took me back to campus, he gave me a big bear hug and stuffed some money in my pocket.  

My parents were factory workers.  We lived a very simple life…Uncle Junior drove a coal truck for years.  He went out on his own.  Bought three trucks and started hauling rock and teamed up with a rock quarry company.  Years later be became part owner and as folks would say….definitely earned his living the hard way.  

Thanksgiving and Christmas break he took me to beer joints and would fuck me in the bathroom or sometimes in his truck out in the garage.  After Christmas break he gave me a job at the rock house office.  I made coffee, cleaned the office, bathroom, etc….one day he took a power tool and cut a hole in the stall.  He used gray duct tape and lined the hole and introduced me to a glory hole.  I sucked him one day and he had a trucker Thomas watch.  After my uncle dumped a load in my mouth….he told me… stay put.  Next thing I knew a fat uncut cock poked through the hole.  Damn….what a treat.  This guy teased my mouth.  Slow strokes….he loved his fat mushroom head.   He blew his load within minutes.  When I left  that day Uncle Junior stuffed fifty bucks in my shirt pocket.  He told me tomorrow he wanted me to service all his truckers.   The next day I sucked all three men and my uncle insisted I only service them using the glory hole.  

When I came home for spring break I worked three days at the truck house.  On Friday he told me to bring a change of clothes.  We went to the mountains for a camping trip.  We went fishing, skinny dipping, cooked our meals over an open fire….the guys took turn fucking me….that night one of the guys poured a beer over my cock and slowly licked my dick and balls.  Damn…I shot a big load.

When I retuned to college the next week one weekend one of the truckers came to visit me.  He installed a Panasonic cassette player in my VW.  That night I rode his cock and sucked his nipples….damn ….what a sexy guy.

Over summer break I worked four days a week.  My uncle gave me a day off….Wednesday…so I could fish, swim and work on my 1969 Chevy Chevelle.  It was my papaws car and I loved that car.

The entire summer I serviced all the men. One night I stayed late to mop the kitchen area, clean the bathroom, and restock everything.  I was playing the radio listening to Three Dog Night ….and the door open.   The youngest trucker came in….locked the door and approached me.  He kissed me…undressed me….and put my ass on the kitchen counter.  Jimbo got on his knees and started rimming me.  He worked my man pussy.  He teased my hole with his tongue.  He moved to the fridge and got a long neck PBR beer.  He drizzled beer over my ass and licked.  He used some Vaseline and coated that long neck bottle and fucked my ass with that beer bottle.  Fuck me…..I loved it.  He thrusted his cock deep inside me and shot a creamy load deep in my ass.  That was one of the hottest things I’d ever experienced.

As a nineteen year old kid….that was the best summer of my life.  

As soon as I saw his cock I knew that I  had to suck it off.

It was about seven inches, un cut with a plum of a knob crowning it’s magnificence. It was thick too and the foreskin tightly engorging the knob to the max. The fact that it belonged to my 54 year old uncle and that I was only twenty did not phase me in the least. I just had to get my hands and mouth on it as soon as possible.

You may be wondering how I got to see his big cock in the first place and that my friends was by sheer chance.

I was staying with my uncle during a break at college. He and my aunt had divorced months before and so he was living alone and happy to have me there for company. He lived on the coast too which was an added bonus.

Anyway one day I was looking for something to read as I was going to sunbathe in the garden. Uncle Jed had told me I could borrow any of his books If I could find one as he was apt to leave them lying around in the most obscure places once read. I found one on the floor in the toilet which was of the ‘horror’ genre and not my cup of tea so I thought he might have one in his bedside cabinet.

No luck there either but I accidentally knocked a tube of antiseptic off the cabinet which rolled under the bed.

I bent down to locate the tube and discovered  a small wooden box which intrigued me. I know I shouldn’t have snooped but I was curious to see it’s contents and was flabbergasted to discover a photo of my uncle’s stiff cock amongst some other porn

photo’s of other cocks together with a prostate vibrator shaped like a prick. The other dick pics were interesting too, two in particular showing a young guy of about my age sporting a lovely erect cock that had cum running down it. Why my uncle had cock pics was anybody’s guess but his was the biggest of them all.

I knew it was my uncle’s cock as the hand holding the base of it had a distinctive tattoo of a bluebird.

Being gay I ogled the photo for some minutes and even switched the vibrating massager on to feel it’s strength. Maybe a wrong move in my part as the noise attracted my uncle’s attention as soon as he walked through the front door after a trip to the grocery shop.

I quickly put everything back in the box and slid it back under the bed but found out to my horror that I had left the tube of antiseptic where it had rolled.

Back in my own bedroom I lay down and collected my thoughts. I was expecting my uncle to come upstairs and confront me but he didn’t and so I had to rub one out thinking about his lovely prick and caught a juicy load of spunk in the palm of my hand which I played with for a while rubbing it into my nipples and up and down my prick.

“Have you been in my bedroom?” asked my uncle.

He was standing in my bedroom doorway in just pyjama bottoms and he looked fucking gorgeous. His hairy chest was fabulous, the hair trailing down and disappearing down the waistband  of his pyjama bottoms. I was laying on top of my bed in jeans and ‘T’ shorts my cock already stiff and straining.

I had to confess that I had been in his room looking for a book to read.

“Its O.K. Ben” he said “It’s just that I noticed my tube of antiseptic cream had gone from my bedside cabinet”.

“Sorry” I said “I knocked it down and forgot to pick it up”,

“Expect you were too busy looking at my porno pics in the box under my bed. Did you like them?”

I must have blushed crimson.

“I…er.  I’m sorry I was just curious” I said stuttering.

“Suppose you are wondering why it’s all cock photo’s. You see the thing is I love looking at cocks, I like taking photo’s of them, even my own. I suppose you had a good look at that one”.

I couldn’t answer him.

“We males in the family are pretty well blessed in the cock department, my brother, your dad is also hung like a fucking horse and I suppose you are too. Is that right?”

My cock was beginning to throb as he spoke and I could not help but notice the front of his pyjamas trousers sticking out.

“Do you want to see my cock in the flesh Ben? I’d sure like to see yours. Maybe take a photo of it?”

I was pretty dumbstruck but nodded yes and he came over to the bed and stood real close to me, took my hand and placed it over his bulge.

“Is that nice?”  he asked.

I nodded, looking up at his chiselled face and pale blue eye my hand gently squeezing his lovely bulge.

“Pull it out then lad, take a good look at it. I know you want to”. he said.

I slipped my hand inside the fly hole of his pyjama bottoms and gripped hold of his stiffening cock.

It felt as smooth as satin and throbbed heavenly in my hand.

I pulled his dick right out and watched it grow to it’s magnificent pulsating size.

“So is it a nice big cock lad?” he asked.

“Fuck yes!” I said “But this is so wrong, you’re my uncle”.

“You like holding my cock. I like you holding my cock. We’re booth winners. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing I guess” I replied, my hand slowly wanking my uncle’s gorgeously stiff prick.

“Show me yours now lad. We had a deal” said uncle Jed.

Nervously I let go of his cock and began to pull my jeans and pants down.

As I pulled my underpants down my cock just sprang up hard and proud.

“Just as I thought Ben. Big cocks run in the family” he said and he reached for my dick and began to wank it.

“Oh! Uncle this is so wrong but it feels so nice.” I said, my eyes staring at his cock which was only inches from my face.

“Go for it lad. I know you’re a cock sucker” he said and I took hold of his cock again and put half of it into my hot mouth letting my tongue lick the knob and my mouth suck hard.

“Oh! Fuck lad. You suck cock so good. Oh! Fuck! It feels amazing”

I pulled the pyjama cord on his pyjama bottoms and they fell to the floor giving me a great view of my uncles balls and hairy legs.

I couldn’t  believe what I was actually doing. Sucking my uncle’s big cock whilst he wank’s mine.

Uncle Jed pulled at my ‘T’ shirt removing it from me completely.

He stopped wanking me, took my face between both of his hands and began to fuck my mouth pushing his bulbous knob to the back of my throat again and again..

I was loving what he was doing, loving the feel of his prick sliding across my tongue to nudge my tonsils.

I reached up and felt for his arse cheeks, they were incredibly warm and I squeezed his cheeks lovingly.

“I want to suck you Ben” he said “Shall we get into a sixty nine and suck each other. I suppose you know what a sixty nine is lad?”

Two minutes later and my uncle was laying on his back with his head over the edge of the bed and my cock right down his throat. I was laying over him feeding his long prick into mouth and grasping hold of his cum loaded hairy balls.

The sucking was out of this world particularly when he slipped his tongue right up my arse and wriggled it .

I was moaning and feasting on his cock like it was a fucking juicy kebab.

“Get your teeth on my knob and chomp on my helmet Ben” said my uncle pausing his arse licking.

I did as he asked, closing my teeth around the ridge of his knob and putting some pressure into my biting.

“Fuck that’s good. Chomp on my cock Ben and yank my fucking balls”.

Back up my arse his tongue was digging and rootling and making me  moan ecstatically.

He pulled my cheeks apart and rammed his face between them sucking on my arsehole like a crazy man.

We were in a sixty nine for some time and we were both taken to the edge again and again with pre cum flowing from both of our sucked cocks.

“Have you ever fucked a man my age Ben?” asked my uncle Jed. “I love getting fucked. Would you fuck me Ben? I’d love to take your big cock all the way up my arse”.

I was surprised by his request but my dick jumped at the thought and my heart raced with excitement.

“Will you fuck me lad?”.

“Yes” I replied.

“Just a moment then” he said and he left the room only to come back within a minute carrying a  tube of lube and a bottle of poppers. He got two pillows and lay over them on the bed, his lovely rounded arse cheeks up, his hands pulling them apart to expose his eager hairy arsehole.

He began to lube his hole up and giving me the tube of lube asked me to lube up my cock.

 hefty snort on the poppers bottle and my uncle was ready to be fucked.

“Now Ben, I like to be raw fucked really hard so just go for it lad and slam my fucking arsehole good”.

My dick was as rigid as a tree trunk and glistening with the lube. I got behind my uncle and rubbed my greasy knob up and down his hairy crack, the heat f his arsehole beckoning me in. A push and my knob disappeared with little resistance and the warmth of his inner arse encouraged me to push deeper.

He held his arse cheeks wide and I shoved the rest of my cock in and started to fuck him.

“Harder lad!” he begged “Harder! Harder!”.

I began to really shag him my cum crazy balls slapping against him as I thrust my prick deep.

“Cor! That’s it lad do it like that. Fucking ram that cock p my arse. It’s a fucking lovely big cock lad”.

I was already heading towards orgasm but his hole felt so damn nice I eased right out and just held my knob against his burning arsehole.

Uncle Jed grabbed the poppers again and huffed a few times on the bottle.

“Stick it back in Ben I need your  fucking cock “

I shoved my prick inside him again and he handed me the bottle of poppers for a snort. I sniffed hard on the bottle and it was like the vapours were controlling my cock as I was fucking hard without even thinking about it.

I held onto his shoulders for some leverage and rammed his arse up to my balls again and again..

He began to make grateful noises and was snorting on the poppers like they were going out of fashion, is head tossing from side to side, his arsehole gripping my prick and drawing off enough pre cum to sink a battleship.

“Ride me boy!” he said “Rid me and slap my arse crimson with your hand as you fuck me”.

I did as he said, slapping his bum cheeks with one hand then another till his arse was crimson red with

my finger marks as I fucked him. My legs were either side of is hips, my arse up high, just like a jockey riding a horse at the ‘Grand National’. My cock was just plunging into him from knob to nuts as I galloped home to my orgasm.

“Shoot that spunk up my arse lad, give me all that lovely cum. Drain your fucking balls in my arsehole. Oh! Fuck! It’s lovely. Lovely!”.

I began to shoot, my prick jerking deep in his hole my spunk spurting and creaming his guts good and proper. He was groaning and wriggling his arse to get the full feeling of my spurting cock as I continued to deep dunk my horny prick.

I pulled my cum throbbing cock from his arse and watched as my cum seeped from his hole and down his hairy thighs.

“Suck me off lad”  he said “I need to cum”. and he rolled onto his back holding his cock up for me to suck.

I got down  it and gabbed his hairy balls tight tugging at them as I began to munch on his prick/

“Get those teeth around my knob Ben and chomp my spunk out. Fucking hurt me, make me cum!”.

I did as he asked biting all around his knob and then biting on his rigid shaft as if it was a corn on the cob.

“Pull at my balls, twist the fuckers and keep biting my prick” he said writhing on the bed.

He was pinching his own nipples and rolling his eyes in ecstasy.

“I’m gonna cum lad. I’m gonna cum”.

His spunk shot from his prick and nearly hit the fucking ceiling. It looked amazing and I needed to taste it so clamped my mouth over his dick and took the volume of cum in my mouth.

I swirled it around my gums and tongue and let it floss my teeth before swallowing it down into my belly.

“Good lad Ben. Swallowing your uncle’s cum. Good lad”.

We were both tired and drained so, naked, we both lay side by side and fell into a deep sleep.

When I awoke I began to think it had all been a dream but then I saw my uncle next too me naked and wanking his magnificent cock.

“On your side Ben lad” he said “I want to try something”.

I did as he asked, my heart beating wildly as I felt the tip of his dick between my bum cheeks.

He pulled me back onto his cock fucking into me, his already lubed up dick rolling over my prostate and making me whimper.

“Nice lad! Nice tight hole! Oh! Fuck it’s lovely Ben”

He pulled me back and forth onto his rampant rod, my eyes watering my mouth dry, my own cock pulsating with lust.

Uncle Jed was bollock deep up my arse and I was moaning loudly as he fucked me.

I wasn’t prepared to be turned over onto my belly but my uncle turned me over and was now riding me, his hands playing with my cock and balls as he shagged hard.

I didn’t protest, the actual idea of having my uncle’s huge cock up my arse had me almost creaming.

I wasn’t sure about having my arse slapped but my uncle began to slap me anyway. The stinging slaps had me yelping as each cock thrust was accompanied by a hard hand slap across my arse cheeks.

I have to admit it felt pretty good being fucked and spanked at the same time and I wanted more.

“Slap me harder uncle. Slap me and ride me hard I can take it”.

Now my uncle was riding me with his arse up high and his dick was just goring my hole, every inch slamming into my fuck ragged arse.

I grabbed the poppers bottle and I snorted on it like a fucking junkie, over dosing on the vapours and hollering like a banshee as uncle Jed fucked the hell out of me.

He grabbed the poppers and huffed hard on the bottle, he too snorting on too much of the vapours.

The result was both of us writhing in sexual lust and using each other for our own gratification.

I was completely out of my mind and only thinking about my uncle’s rigid cock and wishing that he had two so that I could suck on one and be fucked by the other. I was crazy now for my uncle’s cum and I wanted his balls to unload and fill my arsehole with enough man jizz to satisfy me.

My uncle was now licking my neck and ears and whispering what a hot fuck I was.

He was wanking me and fucking me and I was still out in another dimension dreaming of his cock and the need I had for his spunk.

Another hard snort on the bottle of poppers and my uncle began to fast fuck my arse to his own shattering climax making me cum at the same time.

My orgasmic arsehole twitches gripped his spunking prick and didn’t let go until both of us were fully drained .

My cum loaded arsehole seeped sperm around his  dick as he continued to push into me. My own cum had pooled into his wanking hand and we both licked at his palm until we’d both had a good taste.

“Hey lad!” he said suddenly his cock now slipping from my cum drenched hole.

“I didn’t take a photo of your cock for my collection?”

I turned over onto my back, my dick sadly shrinking.

“Well” I said “Once it’s back up and stiff as yours will be you can take as many photo’s as you like. “On one condition”.

“Oh! yes and what’s that Ben?”.

You have to chomp your teeth on my cock and then slap my arse as you fuck me hard again!”.

His sexy smile was all I needed for an answer.

Hey lads! Chris here! Thanks so much for all the horny emails and messages I’ve been receiving. Was worried everyone would think I was a bad husband for the stuff I’ve been getting up to but glad to have your support. Hopefully you don’t mind hearing about this little adventure either.

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So I realized I never gave you a full description of myself. Well I’m late 30’s, cropped rusty hair (still got a fair bit of it luckily – no receding hair line just yet…), light trimmed beard some of the time (not always, but like how it defines my chinline – I don’t do the ZZ Top thing by any means), keep in pretty good shape at the gym so lightly toned – not a big muscle guy but proud I’ve kept my definition and kept the body fat down. Got a lightly hairy chest that leads down to my belly with a good snail trail that goes down to my pubes. Haven’t got into manscaping just yet but who knows? Maybe I will some day. For now, got a nice amount of hair around my ass crack, balls and of course my pride and joy, my 9″ cock! It’s uncut though the skin slides all the way back when I’m aroused so it almost looks cut. It’s a pretty straight thick piece of meat with a gentle curve up towards the head where all my love juice blasts out when I’m excited. Which to be honest I’ve been trying to calm down lately.

After fucking some unknown college kid’s ass through a glory hole at the shopping mall while my son waited outside, I tried to hold off man sex. And I actually did a pretty good job. Lasted a few months.

Jesse, 18, was still in high school – Debra, my wife, and I were still a great couple but our sex life was still dead. So I had an idea to spice it up – a trip to Hawaii for spring break! I booked us a suite at one of those beautiful beachside resorts in Waimea. I thought Jesse would enjoy playing around in the pool making some friends while Debra and I could stay wrapped up in the room, for a week of sex to rekindle our relationship.

We arrived to the warm, balmy weather and I was immediately taken by it all. Something about the smell in the air – coconut oil, jasmine flowers and all the beautiful smiles from everyone – something so arousing about it all.

We checked in at reception and one of the young staff members, Kai, gathered up our bags and led us to our room. Couldn’t help but notice Kai was a bit of a looker – sexy tanned skin, maybe 20 years old, sarong wrapped around his waist showing a cute bubble butt. Looking at his butt as he walked us to our rooms I couldn’t help but think about that Cute Latino and sliding my cock into his ass – how good it felt – so tight and hot.

I was so lost in my reverie I didn’t notice him turn around and catch me checking him out! He winked and flashed me a cute grin – like he could totally read my mind.

I blushed, hoping Debra and Jesse didn’t notice their breadwinner getting bashful in front of the staff.

I tipped him after he deposited our bags, his fingers lingering on mine as he took the bills out of my hand, leaving us to our room.

So minor disappointment kicked in immediately – the suite which I thought would be two separate rooms linked by a door turned out to be one big room. So the king sized bed I planned on spending most of the holiday fucking my wife in was right next to the single bed where my teen son would be sleeping! This was not ideal! I just hoped Jesse would be happy to spend the whole week poolside so I could unload this massive load of cum that had been brewing inside my nuts for the last week into my wife.

We unpacked our belongings and did the usual settling in stuff – walking around the pools, checking out the restaurants nearby, seeing what activities were on offer at the resort.

Jesse’s eyes lit up at the pool – I’ve probably already mentioned it but he’s an awesome kid. A bit shy but outgoing and positive – always open to trying new things. He couldn’t wait to get his board shorts on and jump in the water. Debra agreed it was a great idea and when we went back to our room, she went straight into the bathroom and started putting on her bikini.Jesse meanwhile was rearing to go.

“How about you head down, Jesse” I told him. “Your mother and I will be down to join you soon.”

But Debra stepped out of the bathroom. “I’m ready now,” she said. “Let’s go.”

I gave her a look. “Shouldn’t we talk to hotel reception first about getting our suite? We can join Jesse down a little later…?” I suggested giving her a pointed look. I did not want to wait to blow my first load of the week!

“I’ll wait outside,” offered Jesse seeing the look in my eyes.

Once he was gone, I tried to pull Debra into a hug. “C’mon babe. I thought you might like to spend a bit of private time…? Just us? `Relaxing’?”

“I hope that’s not why you booked this holiday, Chris. If you want to relax, get a massage. I’m going swimming!” Damn! Shot down! Was pretty unimpressed. I pride myself on being a good provider and I’ve tried to walk the straight and narrow but it’s hard when my wife seems to have no interest in sex.

“Fine. You go swimming. Maybe a massage is just what I need.”

So Debra left and I called hotel reception to book an in-room massage. I knew it wouldn’t be one of those dodgy `happy ending’ ones at a high class resort like this but it would probably be enough to get the blood circulating into my body and out of my blue balls!

I watched some TV in the room while I waited until I heard a knock at the door. My cock gave a throb when I saw who it was – Kai, standing there with a massage table and a huge grin. I don’t know why but for some reason I assumed I’d have a female masseuse. It didn’t occur to me that one of the bellhops might also be a masseuse!

“I’m here to take care of you,” he said with one of those sexy smiles of his.

“Ummm.. err.. sure this way.” I stammered as I led him into the room.

He set up the table, laying it with towels and cloths for me to lie on. I stripped down to my jocks and stood awkwardly behind him, waiting until I could slide on the table. My cock is 5″ soft but luckily my jocks were keeping it hidden. As soon as I could lie face-down, the safer I’d be!

He turned to face me and laughed. “Oh sir, this is lomi-lomi massage.”

“So…?”

“You don’t wear underwear. I’ll cover you with this cloth.”

Oh fuck I thought. I quickly whipped down my jocks, trying to conceal my stiffening manhood. I didn’t want to be seen as a pervert by this young guy, flashing my meaty cock at him. I’m sure he got sick of people coming over using the island like a brothel. I just wanted a G rated massage. I had a wife. I had a son. This wasn’t the time for anything kinky.

I lay down, face first on the massage table, took a deep breath and tried to relax, my meat sandwiched between the table and my abs. He took a deep breath and started applying oil over my shoulders in wide, sweeping strokes. Oh boy, did it feel good. Was just what I needed! The kid had strong hands too, pressing deep into the tension in my shoulders and working his way down my back. This really was relaxing. 

“Just let me know if the pressure’s ever too much for you,” he whispered soothingly in my ear as he brushed against my hands.

My skin buzzed. Everything was going well until he started working his way lower and lower down my back, closer to my tight glutes. His hands swept over my ass cheeks, sinking deep down to my thighs and brushing between my legs. His hand nudged my balls and my cock gave a little leap against my stomach. Was it just my imagination?

And God help me… I was enjoying it, too. Too much.

I tried to control myself – I focused on other things. The fact I was in a hotel room I was sharing with my wife and son. Our house back home. Twenty years of memories together! But those wandering hands of his kept swooping down between my ass cheeks, lingering as they teased my hairy nutsack. I tried to control my breathing but that didn’t stop my cock from stiffening beneath me.

“Is everything OK?” asked Kai as his thumbs drove deep into my muscular cheeks.

“Oh yeaaah,” I couldn’t help but moan.

“Can you please roll over? I need to work on your front.”

I froze. I knew the minute I rolled over he’d see my big stiff cock and he’d think I was a total creep. But there was nothing else for me to do. I’m sure he saw this happen all the time. Probably not as big as mine but he’d be used to embarrassed customers who got a little too excited.

I rolled over and he gave a little gasp. “I’m sorry,” I blushed. “Just got a little worked up. It’s been a few days.”

“You do look like you need some release,” he whispered as he started applying oil to my thighs. His hand brushed over my cock and I got so hard I thought the damn thing would snap off. His hand circled around it again and gripped it properly. He started gently stroking it up and down.

“Oh wow – you…. shouldn’t… don’t.. my wife….” I whispered weakly.

“… Is a very lucky woman,” he said back with a grin. “But she’s not here right now.”

And before I could stop him, he swooped forward and swallowed half my cock into his deep throat.

“Jesus!” I moaned. “Please stop – my family…”

He paused as if he had heard me and took a deep breath through his nostrils as he allowed his head to sink down the rest of my shaft, his nose working his way down to my pubes. All 9″ of my manhood was in this sexy boy’s throat.

“Oh god you’re good,” I panted as he started slowly bobbing up and down with his head, coating my cock with his saliva. “You’re not going to tell anyone?”

He looked up at me with innocent eyes – “I just want you to feel good, sir.” He cupped my balls with one of his hands while his other hand reached up and played with my hairy chest. I’d only fucked guys through glory holes before so wasn’t used to how good it felt to have my nipples played with while a dude worked over my meat.

He pulled off momentarily to rub some oil on his hands. He then started gliding his hands up and down my torso, right down to my cock as he wrapped his fingers around it in one smooth motion. I’d never felt anything like it. All I could do was lie back and let my eyes roll back!

I suddenly felt the massage table creaking as Kai climbed on top of it and straddled me. His sarong had fallen away revealing a nearly hairless body. His cock was now rock hard too – around 7″ and sticking out straight from his body as he sat on my thighs. He leaned forward over me as he continued working my pecs and abs with his strong hands. His cock rubbed against my stomach. I wasn’t used to seeing a guy’s penis before so close. All the guys I’d played with before and had been through a glory hole and I hadn’t seen them.

He smiled at me as he put his weight in his knees, rising up and aiming my cock behind him, gliding my shaft between his hairless ass cheeks. All I could do was watch as he used my cock like his own personal sex toy. My mind was racing. I should stop him. Push him off. My wife could be back any second. Any second!

But those thoughts evaporated as he positioned the head of my cock right against his pucker. He grimaced for a moment as he tried to let my mushroom head inside him. Maybe I was too big for him? I could feel my cock almost bending from the pressure of this kid’s weight down on it but I was well oiled and so he was he.

Suddenly my pole pierced his ring and the head drove into his ass! I groaned so loudly I was sure they’d hear me next door!

“Please Kai.. my son might be back any minute.” His grimace turned into a smile as he let gravity do his thing, sliding all the way down my nine inches.

“Then we better be quick. I want your seed, sir. Fill me up!” He slowly started bouncing up and down on my cock, his head thrown back in ecstasy. I could feel his cock slapping against my belly, dribbling pre-cum, as he used my cock for his own pleasure. And hell – I was sure getting a lot of pleasure out of it too.

I held onto his hips and started to drive my cock into him. I’d tried to give my cum to Debra but she didn’t want it so if this sexy kid did – then fuck, he could have it. I knew I was truly a bad husband now – fucking a sexy boy in the hotel room I was meant to be sharing with my wife but his ass was worth wrecking a home for!

We worked into a powerful rhythm as he milked my cock with his ass muscles. I could feel his ass clenching around my cock, trying to milk me. I’d heard the term power bottom before and I think that’s what this guy was.

“Cum in me, sir. Please! I want you to breed me!”

Fuck the kid had a dirty mouth on him and it only made me hotter. I was sweating at this point as he rode me like a man possessed. I tried to keep my groans to a minimum as he whimpered, his hands using my furry pecs as leverage to get himself down deeper and harder on my cock. I could feel my balls tightening – ready to unleash a torrent of my hot man milk right inside him.

“Kai.. I’m… getting close!! Mmphhh mmmmm mmmmphhhh!” 

He grinned – that cheeky grin that Jesse would give me when he knew he was getting something he wanted out of his daddy. “Fill me up!”

“Ohhh… oh fuck… I’m gonna… here it comes!” I warned him as I drove my hips up to meet his. My cock drove as deep into his guts as it could go as I felt my cock pulsing volley after volley of my married seed right into his ass. I was so focused on my orgasm that I didn’t notice his cock leaking his own little load over my abs.

He pulled himself off my cock and immediately swallowed my cock to the root again, suckling the last drops of my juice. I reached down with curiosity to dab a handful of his cum off my belly. He immediately leaned forward and licked my fingers cleaned.

I grinned at what a hungry slut this boy was. I scooped up the rest of the cum and he gobbled it down right off my fingers! We smiled at each other, sweaty and spent.

I had an overwhelming desire to kiss his beautiful luscious lips – he looked so cute and innocent. And he cared so much about taking care of my needs. It certainly wasn’t something Debra cared about! But then I heard a rustle at the door. My eyes widened in horror.

“Roll over!” he whispered. I rolled over and Kai quickly threw a cloth over my butt and back. I heard him quickly pull his singlet and sarong back on just as Jesse walked into the room.

Kai looked up at him, innocently, rubbing the backs of my calves as if he’d just been working on my legs all along.

“Oh sorry, Dad!” said Jesse. “I just forgot the sun screen.”

I lifted my head. “No worries, champ. Just by the bedside table. I think we’re almost done here anyway.”

“I hope you enjoyed it, sir,” said Kai as he started packing up the towels.

Jesse walked over and grabbed the sun screen, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. “Can I get one too, dad?”

I coughed. “Let’s see how the week goes, bud.”

To Be Continued…

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

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“You know what, I’m gonna take the dogs out,” I murmured sleepily, my voice cutting through the stale silence of our bedroom. The digital clock on the bedside table cast a cold, blue glow across the room, its numbers blinking a persistent 4:58 AM.

“Again?” my wife, Rachel, asked, rolling over, her eyes still shut tight. “Can’t it wait until sunrise?”

But I was already swinging my legs out of bed, the coolness of the wooden floor a welcome contrast to the sticky warmth of the sheets. “They need it and I need it too,” I said, my voice a little firmer. The dogs had been restless all night because it was bloody hot, and I knew that once I got out there, the morning air would do us all some good. Plus, I couldn’t ignore the low throb of my bladder any longer.

I grabbed the dog leashes from the hook by the front door, slipping into my flip-flops with a soft sigh. The nightshirt was light enough that I didn’t bother changing, and I figured nobody would be out at this hour to see me. The house was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs and the distant sound of a car on the main road.

Misty and Nala, both Cockapoos, were always ready to enjoy a walk, particularly at 5am, knowing full well that the rabbits would still be enjoying the huge lawn that surrounded our home. I had just turned forty-five and was finding the hot nights a struggle, and I wondered if it was an age thing, remembering when I was younger that the heat didn’t seem to faze me back then.

Misty and Nala were wagging their tails in excitement as we stepped outside into the pre-dawn air, and the moment the door closed behind us, the dogs bolted ahead, eager to explore the dew-kissed grass. I took a deep breath, letting the freshness wash over me. The world was just waking up, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the faint sound of birds beginning their morning symphony.

We had barely made it fifty feet down the driveway when I heard the distant hum of an engine. My stomach tightened as I realised it was the neighbour’s son, Tim, coming home from his graveyard shift. He lived in the house next door, and we often saw each other in passing, but this was the first time our paths had crossed so early in the morning, and I hoped he wouldn’t pay much attention to my bare legs and nightshirt.

Tim’s car headlights swung over us, briefly illuminating the dogs and me before continuing into his driveway. I watched as he stepped out of the car, stretching his tall frame. He spotted us and waved, and I couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

Rachel had warned me before that my nightshirt was a bit too short, but I had dismissed her concerns, thinking it was just one of her quirks. Now, as the light from his porch spilt over us, I could see his eyes lingering on my legs, and a flush crept up my cheeks.

“Morning, Tim,” I called out, trying to keep my voice casual as I whistled to the dogs, who by this time were chasing rabbits in all directions. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, had a quiet one,” he replied, walking over to the hedge that separated our properties. He leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, just the heat,” I said, tugging at the hem of my nightshirt self-consciously. “Couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tim chuckled, his gaze lingering on my legs again. “You know what they say, Steve,” he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “The best way to keep cool is to sleep in the buff. Nothing but your birthday suit and a good pair of sheets.”

I forced a laugh, the tension in my chest tightening. “Yeah, Rachel’s not really into that sort of thing,” as I wondered what Tim looked like naked lying in his bed.

Tim was in his early thirties and had the kind of body that came from a combination of good genes and manual labour. His arms were toned from years of stocking shelves at the supermarket, and his chest was broad and firm, hinting at muscles that lay beneath his t-shirt. He was attractive in a rugged sort of way, with a scruffy beard and piercing blue eyes that had a way of making anyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

As we talked, I couldn’t help but feel the heat between us growing more than just from the early morning air. His eyes continued to rake over my legs, and I realised that my nightshirt was quite short, revealing more of my thighs than I had intended.

“How far are you walking this morning?” Tim asked.

“Just the usual loop around the fields,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Gives the girls a chance to do their business and get some exercise before the sun’s up.”

Tim nodded, his eyes never leaving my legs. “You guys have a beautiful place here,” he said, his voice thick with something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “The lawn’s always so well-kept.”

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “Rachel’s the one with the green fingers.”

Tim leaned closer, his eyes still on my legs. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you guys ever need help around the place. I’ve got some free time on my hands these days, since my parents moved into the retirement home in town, and I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

The offer was innocent enough, but the way he said it made me feel like there was an underlying invitation in his words. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sudden thrill that shot through me. “Thanks, but we’ve got it under control,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray my racing thoughts.

Tim shrugged, his eyes finally meeting mine. “If you ever change your mind, just let me know,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. “I’d be happy to help with anything.”

“Anything, Tim? That sounds desperate. Is everything okay? Work okay?”

Tim chuckled, his eyes flickering down to my legs again before meeting mine. “Just trying to be neighbourly,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

My heart was racing as I processed his words. Was he flirting with me? I had never considered Tim in that way before, but the way he was looking at me now was making it hard to ignore the possibility. I felt a stirring under my nightshirt, and I quickly shifted my weight, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“If I didn’t know you, I would say that you’re flirting with me, Tim.”

Tim leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe I am,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “Maybe I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, Steve.”

Oh my god, my cock was coming to life and was starting to tent the front of my nightshirt. I tried to ignore it, hoping Tim wouldn’t notice, but the bulge grew more prominent with every passing second. I could feel the fabric strain against my swelling erection, and it was all I could do not to reach down and adjust myself.

“Look, Tim,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “I appreciate the offer, but I think we’re good.”

Tim’s smile never wavered, and his eyes remained fixed on the growing bulge in my nightshirt. “You sure?” he said, taking a step closer to me. “I could show you a few… techniques to stay cool that might help you sleep better.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with thoughts of Rachel and the distance that had grown between us in the last few months to physical intimacy. Our love life had become as predictable as the plot of a daytime soap opera, and the excitement of our early days together was nothing but a distant memory. The way Tim was looking at me was anything but stale, and I twigged why Tim remained unmarried.

“Techniques?” I echoed, my voice hoarse.

Tim nodded, his gaze still locked on the growing bulge in my nightshirt. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that could help you out.”

“I suspect Rachel wouldn’t appreciate your techniques, if I’m reading the conversation correctly, Tim.”

“She wouldn’t have to know, Steve. It would be between us if you get my meaning.”

Tim’s voice was a seductive purr that made my heart skip a beat. “But let’s not worry about Rachel right now,” he continued, taking another step closer. “Let’s just focus on you and what you need to cool down.”

The dogs had stopped chasing rabbits and were now sitting at my feet, panting and watching us curiously. My cock was now at full strength, a damp patch forming on the cotton fabric where it was tenting the material. The coolness of the morning air was doing nothing to alleviate the heat that was building between my legs. I could feel the fabric sticking to my skin, and my body was begging for relief.

“I don’t know, Tim, it sounds way too risky.”

Tim took a step closer to me, his eyes still glued to the prominent bulge in my nightshirt. “It’s early,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Nobody’s going to be out here except for us. The only risk you face is remaining like that and walking around having ignored the urgency to deal with it.”

My heart was hammering in my chest as his words sank in. The thought of being caught was terrifying, but the thrill of the forbidden was like a drug, making me want to take that leap. Rachel had become more and more sexually distant lately, and the passion between us had dwindled to almost nothing. Here was a chance to feel alive again, even if it was just for a moment.

“I don’t know, Tim,” I repeated, my voice wavering. “It’s just…”

Tim reached out and placed his hand on my arm, his touch sending a jolt through my body. “You can trust me, Steve,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ve fancied you for a long time, and I can see you want it, from the very damp patch on your nightshirt.”

I looked down at the tent that had formed, and back into Tim’s intense gaze. His eyes were filled with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. With a trembling hand, I reached out for Tim’s hand, allowing him to gently pull me through the hedge that divided our properties.

“Promise to be gentle with me, Tim. I’ve never done this before.”

Tim’s smile grew wider, his eyes glinting in the soft light of the early dawn. “You’re safe with me, Steve,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you,” as he took my hand, leading the way around the side of his house, the dogs trotting obliviously beside us.

Once we were out of sight, Tim abruptly stopped and pushed me against the wooden railing of the porch, his hands sliding gently up my thighs. My breath hitched, and I felt a wave of excitement wash over me as he stepped closer, his body heat seeping into me. The cool wood of the railing pressed against my back, sending shivers down my body.

His touch was surprisingly tender as he traced the line of my thighs, his fingers moving higher and higher, until they reached the hem of my nightshirt. He tugged at the fabric, inching it up my legs, exposing my erection to the warm air. I gasped, my heart racing, as his eyes raked over my exposed skin.

Tim’s gaze was intense, his breath warm against my neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Do you want this, Steve?” he whispered. “Do you want to feel alive again?”

I nodded, unable to form coherent words. His hands continued to move upward, his thumbs circling my waist under the cotton fabric. He then pulled his hands out from under the material and started to undo the few buttons at the top of my nightshirt, pulling the material over my shoulders, allowing the whole nightshirt to fall onto the wooden decking, my hard cock springing free.

He took a step back, looking at me with a mix of hunger and admiration at my naked body.

The next few moments were a whirlwind of sensation. Tim dropped to his knees, his warm mouth closing over my shaft. I let out a moan, my hands fisting in his hair as he took me in, his tongue swirling around the head of my cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the tip. The sounds of his eager sucking filled the quiet morning air, and I could feel the tension in my body coiling tight.

The world around us faded away as he worked me over, his mouth moving in a rhythm that was both agonizingly slow and yet driving me closer to the edge with every pass. I could feel the wetness of his tongue, the roughness of his beard scraping against my sensitive skin. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced with Rachel, who had never shown much interest in this kind of intimacy.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow across Tim’s face, I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer. My legs trembled, and I leaned heavily against the railing, my eyes squeezed shut as the waves of pleasure grew stronger. “I’m gonna cum,” I warned, my voice strained.

Tim took me deeper, his hands gripping my thighs, holding me in place as I bucked my hips, releasing my load into his eager mouth. He swallowed with a satisfied groan, his eyes never leaving mine, a look of pure desire in them.

As the last tremors of my orgasm subsided, I looked down at him, feeling a mix of shock and exhilaration. Rachel had never looked at me like that, never made me feel so wanted. “Wow,” I managed to say, my voice breathless.

Tim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, a knowing smile on his face. “You liked that?” he asked, his voice a low purr.

I nodded, my legs still shaking. “I did,” I admitted, my voice a little hoarse.

He stepped closer, his hand resting on the small of my back, his eyes searching mine. “Do you want more?”

The question hung in the air, thick with promise and laden with implications. Rachel was still asleep in our bed, oblivious to the illicit act that had just taken place. But here I was, panting and exposed, with a man who had just given me a taste of something I hadn’t felt in years. I hesitated for a moment, the guilt threatening to suffocate me, but the need was stronger. “Yes,” I whispered, the word barely audible.

“I thought you might, Steve,” as he started to undo the belt on his trousers.

Tim turned me around and bent me over the railing, his nails scratching my back in a way that was both painful and incredibly erotic. I felt his warm breath on my neck as he kissed and nibbled my ear. His hands slid over my ass, gripping it firmly before he pulled my cheeks apart. The anticipation was maddening, and I could feel the cool wood of the railing pressing into my stomach as my heart raced.

I turned my head slightly to see Tim undoing his trousers, allowing them to slip down his legs. Then I viewed for the first time, Tim’s cock pushing the cotton of his briefs. I stopped looking, knowing he was slipping his briefs down as I prepared myself for losing my virginity.

“Here’s what I prepared earlier,” Tim declared, showing me a tube of lubricant he had taken from his trouser pocket.

The coolness of the lube was a stark contrast to the heat of my skin as he coated his fingers. He slid one, then two, into me with ease, stretching me out with a practised touch. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. Rachel had never been one for such explorations, and the realisation of what was happening made my knees go weak.

He worked me open, his movements slow and deliberate, until I was begging for more. “Please, Tim,” I whispered, my voice strained with need. “I’m ready…. I think.”

Tim chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through my body. “Patience,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He continued to prepare me, his fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm that had me panting and squirming against the railing.

Finally, when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Tim removed his hand and positioned himself behind me. I felt the blunt head of his cock at my entrance, and for a moment, fear clenched my insides. But then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside me, filling me. I gasped, my eyes watering from the sudden pain and pleasure. The dogs had moved away, no longer panting in the heat but watching us intently, their curiosity piqued by the sudden change in our activities.

Tim began to move, his hips slapping against my ass in a steady rhythm that sent shockwaves through my body. Each thrust was punctuated by a guttural grunt, and I could feel his heart hammering against my back. The world outside of us had come alive with the sounds of the morning, the birds chirping in the trees and the distant hum of traffic on the main road, but all I could focus on was the man fucking me in his backyard.

The sensation of his cock inside me was like nothing I had ever experienced before, and with each stroke, I could feel myself letting go of the guilt and doubt that had been weighing me down. Rachel and the life we had built together felt a million miles away, and all that mattered was the here and now, the heat of Tim’s body and the feel of his cock claiming me.

My orgasm built slowly, like a wave rising in the ocean. It started in my toes, a tingling that grew stronger and stronger until it crashed through me, making me cry out as I came all over the porch railing. Tim followed me over the edge, his grip tightening as he emptied himself inside me with a final, powerful thrust.

As we both panted, trying to catch our breath, I felt a strange sense of euphoria wash over me. It was wrong, I knew that, but it felt so incredibly right. And as we pulled apart, and Tim tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his trousers up, I knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that would be filled with secrets and stolen moments of passion that neither of us could ever tell Rachel about.

I reached down to pick up my nightshirt, my legs still shaking as I slipped it over my head. The fabric clung to my sweat-dampened body, and as it fell back into place, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of Tim’s essence lingering on my skin. I looked down at the railing, where a few drops of his cum glistened in the early morning light. The sight of it made me want to drop to my knees and clean him up, to show him just how much his touch meant to me.

But we had to get back to reality, to the lives we led across the fields from each other. “Thank you,” I murmured, turning to face him. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Tim’s eyes were dark with satisfaction, and he leaned in to kiss me, his beard scratching my chin. “It’s only the beginning, Steve,” he whispered against my mouth, before pulling away. “We’ll do this again.”

The promise in his words sent a thrill through me, and I nodded, unable to deny the truth of it. “Okay,” I breathed, feeling my cock respond to his promise. “But we have to be careful.”

Tim stepped back and nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. “Of course,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Our little secret.”

With that, I called to Misty and Nala, who had been watching us curiously from a few feet away. They bounded over, tails wagging, oblivious to the earth-shattering moment that had just occurred between their human and the neighbour. I managed a shaky smile as I started to walk towards my house, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me and dribbling down my leg.

Back in the house, I entered the bedroom, Rachel’s voice echoed out from the bathroom, with the sound of the shower running in the background. “How was the walk, darling?” she called out, her voice muffled by the running water.

My heart pounded in my chest as I paused, the weight of Tim’s touch still fresh on my skin. “Okay,” I called back, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just the usual and uneventful, but nice to get some fresh air.”

Jumping into the shower, the water hit me like a wall of ice, making me gasp. The coldness was a stark contrast to the heat that Tim had stirred within me, and it sent goosebumps racing down my spine. I leaned against the tiles, letting the spray wash over my body, scrubbing away the evidence of our encounter, like I was erasing the last traces of our secret, and Rachel had no idea.

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1. 

The smell in our kitchen—Pete’s and mine—on any given evening wasn’t just dinner. It was the ingrained scent of a couple over twenty years together—roasting garlic, a little thyme, and the comfortable layering of aromas that settles only in a place that’s well-lived in.

Pete moved around the kitchen like he knew where every utensil had been since the nineties, which he did. Muscular and compact, he hummed quietly as he stirred his risotto. His movements were economical, his energy tight—like a spring coiled and ready.

I sat at the island, arranging a modest charcuterie board. It was just for us, but every slice of prosciutto and wedge of cheese got the kind of care you’d expect in a food magazine shoot. Pete liked to rib me about it, but I thought it was meditative.

“Come on, Nate the Great,” Pete said with that grin, nudging me to take a chance, to be bold. At work, I was Nathan—no nicknames, all business, calling the shots—but here, with him, I was just Nate, or Nate the Great, when he wanted to poke fun. “You don’t have to be so careful all the time.”

It always made me smile, and when I needed a pen name, I borrowed it—a nod to when Pete believed in me before I believed in myself.

“Do you remember,” I began, not looking up from my work, “that trattoria in Rome? The one with the green awning? You ordered cacio e pepe, even though you said you just wanted a snack—that you’d eaten enough.”

Pete chuckled, low and easy. “You looked at me like I’d announced I was moving in.”

“Well, it was a surprise,” I said, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Just when I thought I had the day mapped out.”

“It was just a week there. Why not try everything?” Pete paused, spoon in hand. “Keeps it lively, doesn’t it?” He grinned—he always had that boyish, little brother look, even in middle age.

I’d look at my husband sometimes and see all the Petes—the fresh-faced guy I fell for, full of restless energy; the middle-aged guy with glasses and a gym-built body; and every Pete in between, all tangled up in the same grin, the same laugh, that same boyish heart. It was like seeing a whole life story folded into one person, and feeling lucky to be part of every chapter.

We were a good pair, always had each other’s backs, got along famously. But—well, it’s a known fact that for long-married couples—gay or otherwise—intimacy shifts. Ebbs and flows, like a tide. I regret to tell you, Pete and I weren’t exceptions.

During the latest and longest of those low tides, when the waters of our shared sex life receded, we didn’t open things up like some couples do. Monogamy still mattered. Instead, we each found our own way to fill the voids with our solo practices.

I started writing smut. Under my pseudonym, Nate_The_Great, I turned out stories and even novellas, always trying to level up. I published them on Nifty Archive, GayDemon, like messages in bottles tossed in the ocean—I like this, do you?—and found unexpected connections with strangers who liked my brand of storytelling. It was a quiet but satisfying world, where strangers’ messages flickered on my screen like small lights, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

Pete, always the more physical of the two of us, started his own kind of exploration. Toys, ordinary enough at first, soon grew extraordinary. Pete was naturally athletic, and even from a distance I could see he approached those toys the way he did weights at the gym—always adding more, pushing for a personal best. 

The collection lived in the basement, tucked away in big bins. I tried not to pry, but I couldn’t help having inklings of the scale. Some were the length of my forearm but with far more girth, most shaped like human cocks of every kind, just… bigger. Others were more fantastic—horse cocks, tentacles, made to pry into areas others couldn’t. And so heavy. 

Pete’s toys both fascinated and intimidated me, and I marveled at how Pete could take some of them without breaking.

We knew about each other’s habits, though we didn’t talk about them much. Pete would ask about my latest story ratings, or if my online readers were behaving. I knew about his toys—saw the charges on our card with each addition. 

Sometimes, after a particularly rigorous session—begun after I’d gone to bed, or while I was out at the gym—Pete would emerge from the shower, skin red and scrubbed clean. Downstairs, the towels would be piled up, enough to fill the washing machine on their own.

I’d eye the rumbling washer, thinking the towels saw more action with Pete than I did. At least he wasn’t fooling around with another guy. That had to count for something.

Then I’d sit up late, fingers flying across the keyboard, posting another story, sending my creations out into the ether, warmed by the emails that came back. We were two planets, orbiting the same sun. Happy enough, but each with our own spin.

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2. 

A few nights later, I awoke from a dream. Not a nightmare, nor one of the weird ones where you’re at work but it’s your grandmother’s house. Some dreams have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. If you’ve ever had one that feels too real, you know what I mean.

I remembered looking down, sensing something large, substantial, moving inside Pete. But I was the one between his legs. I was focused, and he was lost in pleasure as I drove into him. And it felt like us—like how we used to be, only more.

And the thing is, it felt like more than a dream. A vision of a future where we were connected in more than the day to day, but in all the way—pushing boundaries I hadn’t even let myself imagine. 

I lay there for a long time, Pete snoring softly beside me, his cherubic face and muscled shoulder catching the blue light of the alarm clock. It was like the afterglow from the dream was lighting him up.

The next morning, that feeling lingered. Over breakfast, the air was quiet, chores ahead of us, and I circled the topic like a nervous cat. I wasn’t usually the one to start these conversations, but there was no way to say it but to say it.

“I had a dream last night,” I started, swirling the coffee in my mug, my voice softer than usual, “A pretty intense one. About… us. Together. And it involved some of your toys.”

His gaze met mine, and I tried to let my face show the vulnerability and hope I felt saying these things, so he’d see I was sincere. “I know we haven’t done anything like that in a long time. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to—maybe—try again. To explore that, with you. Together.”

Pete listened, quiet and thoughtful. My stomach knotted with anticipation and a little fear—that he’d laugh, or worse, just look away. Putting yourself out there like that? It’s scary, even with a guy as good natured as Pete. Maybe you’ve been there.

“No pressure,” I added, filling the silence that suddenly felt huge. It was probably less than a minute on the kitchen clock, but I felt each second. “All I want is for you to be happy. And if it’s not the time, that’s fine. But… I’m willing to try. Just about anything.”

It was the truth. I loved Pete and was turned on by him, and the thought of giving him that kind of pleasure was compelling, even if it scared me to admit it.

“Okay,” he breathed, and smiled—a real, open smile that wiped away the tension. “Not tonight, but soon.” He caught my eyes. “It’s just been a long time of doing it alone and I just… I need to prepare. Mentally.”

Then he stood and wrapped me up in one of his long, warm hugs. It was not quite as much as my highest hopes realized, but far from my worst fears.

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3. 

So began the quiet work of folding our separate rivers into a single, deeper one. The first attempts, as you might guess, came with a learning curve. Pete would prepare with a thoroughness I hadn’t realized—cleaning out for hours—finally emerging from the bathroom, fresh-faced, readiness in his eyes.

Then, in the basement room, J-lube and towels at the ready, he’d pull out a selection of toys—a warm-up to begin with that would have been aspirational for most guys, and then the bigger, more daunting ones. 

I’d take them up—my fingers tracing the slick, unfamiliar shapes. I’d seen them before, but it was something else to handle them myself: the long, thick shafts, the horse cocks with knotted heads. My lean muscles tensed as I tested their surprising weight, adjusting to the heft of each piece.

I started with the smaller warm-up pieces, rapidly escalating to meet Pete’s capacity, always watching his face, listening for his gasps, reading his pleasure as I eased the toys inside him. 

Sometimes I glanced up at the mirror on the wall. There we were—me, long and fluid, focused and careful, and Pete, compact and muscular beneath me, his face a mix of trust and pleasure. Seeing us like that, reflected back, made the moment feel even more real.

It was strange, being the one delivering so much pleasure, but through something inanimate. At first, it felt awkward. But quickly I found a rhythm, encouraged by Pete’s responses and my own reinvigorated lust.

Pete, freed from the limits of solo play and unburdened by solitude, would melt under my touch, his body arching into the things I could do that he couldn’t do to himself. That boyish, little brother energy was still there—his face lighting up with a sort of playful trust that made the whole thing feel less kinky and more intimate.

But what surprised me most wasn’t just how much he could take, but the sheer intensity of his orgasms.

I’d been around—with guys before Pete, and with him in the before times—thought I knew most things about getting off. But with his toys, his climaxes had become body shuddering events, leaving him trembling, breathless—more climactic than anything I’d seen in anyone else, in bed or in porn. More than I’d seen before in him, or in me.

It’s funny how people surprise you, isn’t it? Just when you think you’ve figured them out.

I found my own pleasure in this new landscape, too. Sometimes, as Pete rode a truly formidable toy, I’d get off right there—jerking off, just watching the way his body responded, the sounds he made, my own climax tangled up in his pleasure.

Other nights, we’d include a more traditional connection—me inside him, trying to bridge the gap between my human form and the new kinds of satisfaction Pete had discovered. He always said it was a different kind of good, and I believed he meant it. But sometimes it left me wondering if I’d ever fully catch up.

Months went by. We tried, we experimented. It was a success, in its own way—a patient period of exploration. But it still wasn’t the seamless, deeply integrated experience I’d naively imagined when I’d proposed we try again.

I became better at coaching when things got tough—“That’s it, Pete. Breathe. You’re amazing.”—though of course, it was Pete doing the heavy lifting. I didn’t need to see him take more, but every time he did he seemed to reach a new level of pleasure. And afterwards he always seemed so high off of it. 

Then, one night, after a session that left Pete delightfully spent and me feeling a new kind of accomplished, Pete shifted beside me.

“I like it when you push me,” he said, skin still dewy with sweat, a little breathless.

“Well, I am a smut author of some small renown,” I joked. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“How many guys have you gotten off with your stories?” he asked. “Hundreds? Thousands, must be.”

The question caught me off guard. Crazy as it sounds, I’d never thought of it that way. It’s a good feeling when someone thinks more of you than you do yourself—and even better when it’s the guy you’re crazy about.

He laughed, and then his tone changed. “Nate, there’s one more thing I want to try.”

A prickle of anticipation ran up my spine as I waited to hear. Another boundary waiting to be explored together.

“Pegging,” Pete said, meeting my eyes. “I’d like to try it. The size, you know—not just in me, but really fucking me. With you doing it.”

My back stiffened a little—not out of judgment, but confusion. I understood why women did—the toy an augmentation they needed, to stand in, for the thing I’d been born with—and a pretty good one I thought, and had been told.

“I… I don’t know,” I said, the old concerns immediately rising. “Where would my dick even be? I mean, it would just be… out. Excluded.” I tried to articulate the knot forming in my stomach. “It feels… like it might be degrading. Or disconnected. Like there’s a sex party and everyone’s invited except my dick. The part that makes me feel like I’m having sex would be completely left out. Like a bystander. Like it wouldn’t really be us.”

I was used to my hands steering the toys into him with no problem—a lot of satisfaction, in fact. I’d made the cum shots to prove it. But fucking him with one, my own dick just flailing there, seemed different.

Pete reached out, squeezed my knee, eyes warm. “It’s you I want, Nate. It’s not about leaving you out. It’s about us finding a new way to connect. For me, it would be you there, knowing when to push me, knowing how. Trusting you to do that to me. That’s what matters.”

I pictured Pete’s biggest toys, thought about my own body. For the first time, I felt a little skeptical—maybe our paths had diverged too far to ever really come together again. Maybe this was as close as we’d get again.

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4. 

I spent the next few days mulling over Pete’s proposition. The idea of pegging felt foreign—a step outside our established norms, even after all our recent explorations. My concerns about my own body feeling sidelined were real, but Pete’s quiet, ‘It would be you there, with me,’ echoed in my mind, along with his trust in me to do it.

We ordered a simple black leather harness online from Mr. S Leather. When it arrived, my skepticism resurfaced. Holding it in my hands, comparing those flimsy straps to the hulking silicone  pieces Pete had collected, I couldn’t quite see how it would work. 

“Honestly, Pete,” I said, shaking my head, “I don’t know how you handle these. You’re a champ. But this little peg is supposed to suspend that?” Pete just smiled, a confident glint in his eye.

Pete didn’t push, left it entirely to me—if, when, and how I’d ever feel ready to try. There was no pressure, no sulking, just his usual patience, a kind of hopeful calm. The door was open, but I knew I could close it for as long as I needed.

But I loved him, and the idea of shutting down something he clearly wanted felt wrong. He’d been so willing when I suggested we try again—how could I do less when the tables turned?

So, one afternoon, deep into a session, the basement air thick with sweat and the sharp scent of poppers, I found myself holding one of Pete’s truly intimidating silicone  toys. Pete was arching into my hand, breath coming in gasps, and something clicked.

I stood up and picked up the harness, resting beside the toy bin. “Let’s give it a go?” I murmured, my voice a little rough, impulse taking over. 

Pete’s eyes widened, surprise quickly replaced by a spark of excitement. He nodded, maybe more eager than he let on.

I pulled on my discarded briefs, then strapped the harness over them: two thin bands that settled snugly in the crease between my thighs and pelvis, and a sturdier one wrapped around my hips, all connecting at the peg’s base. 

The guys I’d seen online rested the flat base on their pubes, just over their dicks, but I pressed mine right against my own erection, my briefs providing a slight cushion.

Pete helped me attach one of the larger, smoother toys. He turned on his knees, and I caught our reflection in the wall mirror—me, long and lean above him, his muscles tensing and releasing, his boyish face expectant. A silent understanding passed between us, a shared breath of nerves and excitement.

I lubed up, pressed the head to his slicked entry, and suddenly realized the sheer size wasn’t an issue for the harness. It didn’t need to bear the full weight for long—just keep it steady and aligned while Pete and I did the work. One practical concern vanished.

I began to move, slow at first—a cautious, testing rhythm, watching the subtle muscles in his back shift. And soon my hips were grinding into him, my hands gripping his waist. 

I was used to seeing him take mammoth toys, but even I could see this was different than the usual insertions by careful hand. The pace, the relentless thrusts by my greedy hips, in and nearly out—stretching his hole anew—and driving in to test the depth again. 

I started to ride Pete hard, and I guess my body tricked me—because it was my hips grinding into him, my core engaged, my hands gripping his waist and chest—because ridiculous as it was, it felt like that silicone  monster was all me. 

“Fuck yes,” he choked out, working his hips back to meet me. “Fuck me.”

A quiet truth settled in: I didn’t feel degraded or disconnected. Not at all. The big silicone  cock felt like it was mine—and then something new—a sense of self I knew from other parts of life, but never here—never like this. I felt powerful. 

That huge cock, driving Pete wild—I was the one driving it, with the strength and rhythms of my own body, the one penetrating, the one bringing Pete to the edge.

“Can we go… bigger?” Pete gasped, just shy of pleading. 

A jolt of excitement shot through me. Without talking, without thinking, I swapped out the toy for an even larger one—didn’t even ask him which. It was my choice. The one I wanted to fuck Pete with, to take him to his limits and beyond. 

It was heavy in my hand. He’d taken it before, but not like this—not with my hips behind it.

I grabbed the bottle of J-Lube and poured freely—when you’re working with toys this size, there’s no skimping—copious amounts are mandatory. I slicked the toy, Pete’s hole glistened, already loosened from the first rounds. As I eased the toy in, streams of lube dripped down, slick and warm. Pete’s eyes followed my motions in the mirror, a mix of anticipation and trust.

A first hit of poppers, and then the initial stretch—intense, and I could feel him clutch at the invasion—his jaw clenched just a little, the muscles in his back tightened. In the wall mirror his eyes looked a little lost. I slid my hand down to grip his hip firmly but gently.

“Hey,” I whispered, voice low and steady. “You’re doing great. You’re amazing.”

He swallowed hard, but then he nodded. I held, feeling the moment stretch thin. And then the tension softened, replaced by a new openness, like he was letting go of something he’d held too tight and I sank into him. 

Pete let out a shaky breath and his mouth opened slightly, a soft, rumbling low “fuuuuuckk” escaping him, a long deep release. 

His breath came faster, chest rising and falling with a new kind of ease.  In that moment, I understood something about Pete’s athletic drive—this was his personal best, a new peak, and I was the one pushing him there. “Take a hit,” I urged. His fingers closed around the poppers bottle, then a deep inhale, readying for a hard fuck.

I watched his face redden and contort, heard his groans and felt the tremors running through him. The force of what I was creating was intoxicating—and the friction of the base against my own cock, seeing Pete’s body wrapped around the toy I controlled, was getting me off in ways I never expected.

Pete neared his peak, his body trembling, and I felt my own climax building. He was jerking himself fast, a pace I knew meant he was at the edge. “I’m going to cum,” I gasped, not sure if it was a warning or the truth breaking free.

Pete glanced back, maybe to see if I really meant it. I shoved hard, and with a guttural groan from him and a grunt from me, it happened—Pete’s body seized, his climax triggering mine. I erupted, right there in my briefs, my cock throbbing against the base of the harness. My uncontrollable thrusts pushed the toy deeper, wringing the last of his pleasure from him as mine crested.

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5.

The pegging dildo slipped free from Pete’s hole, dropping with a heavy, lube-slick thud onto the floor. Pete, still trembling from the intensity, blinked up at me, voice rough. “Did you really?” He sounded genuinely surprised; I realized he’d probably thought my “I’m going to cum” was just sex talk.

I pulled the harness off, then my briefs. There it was—the proof, unmistakable: my cock still leaking a load, hot and white. “Holy fuck,” Pete breathed, and I couldn’t help but grin, triumphant and a little stunned.

But I wasn’t done. Some animal urgency, so unlike my usual careful self, took over. I scooped up more lube in one hand, wrapped it around my still-hard cock, and with the other, pulled Pete close. My fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tight—half to touch him, half to steady myself.

As he caught his breath he looked uncertain what was coming next—and I wasn’t sure either. I just knew I had to see it through. I jerked my cock, my head pressed against his, the memory of my own unexpected orgasm, and the reality of Pete next to me—his face, his body, his scent—fueling me. 

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned as the second wave hit—a body-quaking orgasm, shaking me to my core. It was a climax that rivaled anything Pete had shown me—pure, unfiltered release.
Pete probably thought there was no way I could go again so soon—until the heat of my cum splashed his thigh. He gasped, and then let out a roar: “FUCK YEAH!”
He clutched me as my body shuddered for what felt like long minutes. Even through the haze, I caught the pride in his voice—the same pride I’d felt for his glorious climaxes.
It felt like I’d never cum so much in my life. When I could see straight again, I looked down and saw the streak I’d left on the biggest toy—the one that had been in Pete moments ago. It was streaked with cum, bottom to top, pooling stark white in the dark silicone’s furrows. Pete shook his head, grinned hard, and pulled me closer. “Fuck yeah,” he said again, quieter this time.

We knelt there for a long moment, aftershocks rippling through us both. The room was quiet except for our breathing. Eventually, we got up—stumbling a little, cleaning and putting things away, then showering off the remains of our night. We managed a light dinner, conversation spare but easy—the kind where every grin and touch says more than words.

Later, lying in bed with Pete’s head on my chest, I stared at the ceiling. The room was dark and still, but my body was humming, and my mind was alive with a hundred new thoughts.

I had to laugh at myself. For years, Nate the Great had been a name on the screen—half joke, half hope. And Pete’s name for me when I needed to believe in myself. But that night, I felt I’d earned it. Some names you have to grow into.

I’d gone into the night fearing I’d feel small—left out, diminished. But instead, I had come out feeling bigger, having found a wellspring of power and connection. I thought I knew everything about sex, about Pete, about myself in this relationship. But tonight proved how much more there was to discover—how endlessly elastic love and desire could be.

As I drifted toward sleep, a new kind of dream started to form. One filled with harness straps, silicone, and the surprising promise of greater shared pleasure—things we hadn’t even thought of yet. In it, Pete and I were older, still fit, still lusting after each other, still finding new territory to explore.

People sometimes say gay men can’t be monogamous—that it’s not in our nature. For some, maybe that’s true, and I never judge them. I hope they won’t judge me. We all have our own journeys. But I think the mistake is confusing the long shadows of our oppression for our true nature, whatever that may be.

Was it just a dream? Or a vision? You tell me. But it felt like us. It felt real. It felt like the future.

I smiled in the dark, certain of one thing: even when Pete hits ninety-nine, he’ll have that little brother grin.

END

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This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in it are 18+ of age.

As usual, I’m very happy to receive any and all feedbacks, whether it’s about the writing or direction of the story, other works you wanna see, or just chat in general. Thank you for reading!

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It’s another hot and humid morning.

I check myself before leaving the house. My grey polo shirt hugs my body in just the right way, and the dark blue pants complement it perfectly. I’m not really muscular, but I have good mass. A consequence of being very active alongside loving food. My usually short hair is longer than I’d like, though, especially in this heat. I make a mental note to visit a barber later as I try to flatten it into place.

Finding everything in order, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys, and exit the apartment. Right away, I’m hit with the overbearing heat that’s been choking the entire city for the past week like it owes it money. The sweat begins to form beneath my thin layers of clothing, and I know it won’t be long till my pits are stained. At least no one points out how sweaty or smelly you are when the whole population is being sun-dried together.

Cursing the sun in my head, I stand in front of my building, waiting for a cab, when a Honda minivan stops in front of the building.

“Morning! Want a ride?” My neighbor, Danny, rolls down the window and asks me.

“Thanks, man! It’s not too far off, no worries,” I instinctively reply.

Danny and I are good neighbors, and by good, I mean that we greet each other in the hallways when we meet and share a few words about the weather or the government, or how expensive everything is. So, I’m not super excited to get into a confined space for some time with him. Now, Angel, on the other hand…

“Where are you going? I’ll give you a ride if it’s on my way,” he repeats his offer, and the cold A/C coming from his car busts down my reservations.

“Be honest, is Calbin Blvd. on your way?”

Danny gives me a wink and nods at me to get in. I sigh and do so, glad I escaped the heat but dreading any awkward silences on the way. He gets a bit overwhelmed, trying to reorganize the mess in his car, old garbage and kid toys, to fit me in the passenger seat next to him.

“What a weather, ha?” I give him the setup, and he launches into an angry rant, locked and loaded, about how living is so hard in these trying times.

I let him go on, nodding my head every now and then to let him know I’m listening, and observing him in the process.

Danny is almost the same height as me at 6’, but almost 20 years older at 41. He does look the part of a middle-aged dad, and his bald head and small eyes contribute to the tired impression he always gives.

As my gaze wanders over his slight beer belly and steals a quick shot at his thighs and crotch, my mind wanders along in practiced routine.

I reach out and grab his dick through his jeans.

“Hahahaha, didn’t think you’d be this cock-hungry first thing in the morning. Should’ve known better,” Danny smiles at me.

I don’t say anything, I’m desperate enough as it is, and he knows it. It’s always humiliating having to initiate it, but the itch it scratches in my brain is so worth it. He himself seems pent up. Wife probably isn’t putting out.

“That’s right, bitch. Suck my cock,” he says, his forced demeaning talk kicking in the moment we start.

His eyes remain focused on the road, but they narrow in concentration as part of his brain gets occupied with the guy struggling to free his cock. It doesn’t take long for me to free his dick, all 6“ of it. It isn’t particularly thick, but it has a nice shape, just the slightest curve upwards with a smooth, pink head. Half-hard and springing out. His bush is also wild and untrimmed. I feel myself salivate a bit.

I bury my face in his crotch without hesitation, easily swallowing his entire length and feeling it poke the back of my throat. The smell is intoxicating to say the least. He smells, in a good way. The smell of manly sweat and musk. I suck eagerly, savoring the taste of warm cock in my mouth to satisfy my morning lust.

“That’s it. Fucking bitch,” he says, grabbing my head and fucking into it a bit, still trying to focus on the road and so slamming my head into his belly instead of down on his dick, “You live for this shit, don’t you? Need this big dick to fuck you?”

I give a muffled whimper as I try to breathe from his choking hold, still attempting to take as much of his dick as possible, now frantic for his load.

The car slows down to a stop in a tucked-away alley. Danny relaxes back in his seat, finally letting me go, and raises his hands behind his head, spreading his legs and acting like a king being serviced by his subject. I happily continue sucking him, now working harder, applying more pressure, and using my hands trying to milk a good load out of him.

“That’s it, that’s my bitch!” His voice grows higher as his whole body tenses up.

I recognize his movements and fully swallow his dick as it spurts in my mouth, feeding me a load I desperately need. His cum is sweet, which isn’t my favorite, but it’s still cum, so who cares. His body gives a spasm or two, but completely settles in bliss once his orgasm passes. I immediately let go, knowing he doesn’t like the feeling of over-sensitiveness on his dick.

“Get in the back. I still have half an hour before work,” he orders, and I comply, getting into the backseat of his messy minivan, throwing a dress his wife left there to the trunk as he gets behind me, forcibly pulling my pants down against my belt’s restraint. The tug hurts me, biting into my hips and uncomfortably squeezing my junk, but the pain is soon replaced with pleasure as he squirts some of the lube he started keeping hidden on him and drives inside me without so much as a rub of his fingers.

I groan, but the combination of awkward sideways position and his fat, slightly hairy body behind me works its magic on my nerves, causing me to turn into playdough in his hands. He lifts one of my legs as he drives in from behind, forgoing the sex talk as he fucks me like a man fucks a Fleshlight, selfishly going in and out of my relaxed, jittery hole. The embarrassment of the situation only works to heighten my arousal, causing me to spew precum on his seat, but I’m too turned on to care.

He gives a loud grunt as he dives in deep, then unloads a couple of weak thrusts compared to his earlier orgasm. As expected of his stamina, but still enjoyable. I clamp down on him as I jerk furiously, and I cum, from the embarrassment and outdoor nerves, rather than his fucking.

“Oh, fuck!” He says, still breathing heavy, realizing my cum was now on the back of the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” I apologize without thinking as I sit and steady my breathing.

“No worries. I have a bottle of rubbing alcohol for this.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder and reaches behind to produce said bottle, then bends down to wipe the traces of our session from his family’s car.

“I knew this was gonna happen again, so I kept one in the back, just in case,” he says, still having not recovered his breath, as he concentrates on getting everything out.

It takes him five minutes, during which I fix my clothing and check myself for leaks. I wipe my asshole for any stray cum and get a few strands. Thinking it’s better than wiping it somewhere, I lick it off. He gets back into the driver’s seat next to me and gives me a look when I lick off his cum while still coming down from his sex high.

He probably thinks I’m pathetic, but I think he is too, so it’s even. Plus, it isn’t like we’re dating or anything. It’s all just physical. I let him use my holes and he quites my cock-lust. Friends with benefits, I guess the label would be.

“Anddd we have arrived,” Danny announces, looking behind me at a road sign.

Suddenly, I’m back in Danny’s real minivan. It’s cold and nice and so comfortable I lost track of my fantasy.

Blinking hard and stretching my limbs to buy myself some time to recalibrate, I adjust my half-chub and turn to Danny.

“Thanks, man. You really didn’t have to,” I say sincerely.

“Hey, don’t mention it. It was on my way anyway,” he pats my shoulder, and for a second, I could smell him for real.

I repeat my thanks as I exit the car and until Danny finally leaves earshot, taking a deep breath as I turn around and face the rest of my day.

“He smells better than I imagined,” I think to myself as I head to work.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“You’re late!”

“I’m not. My shift starts at 8.“

“It’s 8:02.”

“Those two minutes were specifically curated for you to shove them up your ass.”

Mac fake-clutches his pearls, pretending to be offended. I laugh and ruffle his wavy hair.

At nineteen years old, Mac is the newest addition to Cozy Cabin’s kitchen crew, a restaurant/ café that boasts an aesthetic interior with green scenery. The owner’s insistence on keeping the place small in scale is what allowed it to thrive. Having every little thing under control meant and tuned just right for people’s pleasure, meant more business, and before we knew it, we had a long list of reservations at any given time. It’s a pretty new place with nice pay and good hours, and I was lucky to nab the job through a friend.

Mac, a new junior chef, is fresh out of school and filled with that youth energy that makes you question whether said youth is dumb or for real. He was really clumsy when he first joined, spilling ingredients and bumping into others a lot, but he showed a real initiative to learn, and I took him under my wing, making him my unofficial little helper. I had learned ages ago not to hand out love and care willy-nilly, no matter how much I want to, but with Mac, we hit it off correctly, and I was able to trust him within the limits of our professional relationship as coworkers. As a roundsman, I help out everyone in the kitchen, but Mac had special treatment at least.

“Who’s that guy who dropped you off? A new boyfriend? You going for daddies now?” Mac smirked at me, nudging me with his elbow as I put on my kitchen clothes.

“He’s my neighbor, your horny rabbit. Not everything is about sex,” I say, realizing the irony of my statement.

It definitely helped that both Mac and I were gay, which meant more camaraderie in the hostile kitchen. You’d think there ought to be something between us, but that’s not the case, thanks to me setting the boundaries firmly. Mac is sweet, but he’s too young in mind for my tastes. Not stupid, but still has some growing up to do.

“So, anyway. Clark JUST asked me to haul the potatoes from the freezer. I TOTALLY wasn’t waiting for you or anything!” Mac lies in the most obvious way, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Alright, lead the way.”

I motion for him to move and then follow behind. It strikes me how Mac looks cute from behind, too. His golden locks shake with every step, and his white chef outfit covers him pretty nicely, showing off his slender, white arms. There’s nothing much to see from his grey, baggy jeans, but my memory fills in the gaps with how his ass fills out his tighter pants, testing my self-restraint.

We enter the freezer and are greeted by many boxes of potatoes, too many for the happy-go-lucky twink to carry alone.

“Alright, boys! Let’s get this party started!” Mac announces with a raised fist, performing to an invisible crowd.

He bends down and puts power into his legs as he lifts, like I taught him, and I can’t help but marvel at his petite figure.

Smirking to myself, I close the freezer behind me and block it with a moving stand, then turn to a busy Mac and pull my hands backward before bringing them down hard on his ass. Mac, who was bending over and trying to get a good grip on the potatoes, yells in surprise as he jumps in place.

“ASSHOLE!” he turns around and punches my shoulder playfully.

“Sorry. This asshole couldn’t resist that delicious ass,” I say with a smirk as I grab his ass and pull him towards me.

He brings his hands around my neck, the difference in our heights making itself known, and laughs.

“Woke up feeling horny today?” He asks, his voice full of signals.

“You can go ahead and cut off my dick with one of Clark’s knives if I ever stop getting rock hard for you, baby,” I fall into the roleplay we both love so much.

We kiss, hot and wet and urgent. We can’t be here for long, and I need to empty my aching balls. He knows it and is happy to oblige, turning around and undoing his pants. They fall off way too easily due to their size, and he sticks out his ass while holding on to a locked-in moving stand.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” I ask him through gritted teeth, already undoing my own pants.

“Fuck, I need you inside me, now!” He replies, playing into the act while making sure we don’t take long.

I spit a couple of times in my hand and rub it on my cock and on his asshole, the latter quivering at my touch. He needs it as badly as I, the little sex rabbit. His big, toned ass shakes slightly, a mixture of cold and excitement, as it invites me to dive in.

I push in, finding it easy to bottom out right away. He must’ve played with himself this morning or yesterday night, I think to myself as I let my cock get used to the feeling of his tight insides squeezing me with that youthful vigor only a younger guy has. He starts pushing back on me, and I understand the message he’s trying to deliver. ‘It’s all good. Fuck me already!’

Grabbing him by the shoulder to angle him better with one hand, and furiously jerking his cock off with the other, I start fucking into him, enjoying the way his ass milks my cock, happy to be fed. Loud skin-on-skin slapping and muted sex groans fill the freezer as I turn up the pace quickly, wanting to get my morning release and give my little sex rabbit his load.

Mac’s moans start getting louder, and reach a dangerous volume when he cums, his ass grinding into me so desperately, it almost knocks us over. My own orgasm follows right after, flooding his ass with my pent-up load.

It takes me a while to finish spurting and recover, and he’s sweet enough to wait. The moment he feels me start to slide out, he calls for me.

“Clean me up! Please!” He asks, his eyes telling me I owe him as much.

“You betcha’,” I say, and drop to my knees behind him, parting his firm, taut globes, and diving into to feast on my seed.

Mac starts making other noises, lower this time, thankfully. It barely takes time for his pink, smooth asshole to relax and squirt out my load, feeding some of it to me and refusing to let go of the rest.

“Your hole’s not giving up anything else, I’m afraid,” I say, rising up with a smile and a deep breath after feasting on his tasty hole, “Remind me to get you a pregnancy test when our shift ends.”

I give a final smack to signal the end, and he turns to me with a worried expression.

“But… It’s impossible for me to get pregnant,” he says, wearing a look of hurt and dread, ”You see… I’m ALREADY pregnant! And you better take responsibility, buddy!“

“You should try auditioning for soap operas sometimes,” I laugh at his performance and bring him in for another kiss, probing his asshole with my middle finger for fun.

“And live up to the gay theatre kid stereotype? Fuck, no!” He vehemently shakes his head against my chest, and we kiss again before breaking it off to fix our clothes and clean the mess.

“Ah fuck, some of my kids got on the box,” he says, crouching down next to the stand.

“Don’t call them your kids, and I got a paper towel. Here,” I offer him the one I kept in my back pocket.

“Ohhhhhh, someone came ready to fuck!! Naughty!” He teases me, drumming on my back while I wipe any traces of our fuck left.

“Not as much as you, horny little thing,” I tease back, slapping his ass again.

I can’t help it. It’s so much to handle such a full cake!

“And that’s all!” Mac announces to the invisible crowd once again as he drops the potatoes, wiping his forehead with his forearm.

I turn around as I lay mine on the ground. At one point, I got so into the fantasy that I sported a full-on boner, and at an awkward angle to boot. Unable to fix it without making Mac notice, I hid it with the box of potatoes until we arrive. Crouching down, I fix it covertly before getting back up, matching Mac’s energy.

“Thank God I was here! Who knew what your string bean-looking ass would’ve done otherwise.”

“You talkin’ to me, punk?” Mac spins around, shadow boxing against my chest.

“Calm down, rabbit,” I say as I flick his forehead.

“Sorry for the trouble, though, for real,” he says with an unexpected normal tone.

“Hey, don’t mention it,” I assure him.

“No, it’s cause I volunteered to do this because Joe couldn’t, and didn’t realize it’s too much work until it’s too late. Thanks for your help.”

His smile is a little disarming when he says that.

“W-” I stumble over the word before finding my rhythm again, “What couldn’t Joe do it, though?”

“She had to go home for a bit to get something for her kid, or something like that.”

I flick his forehead.

“HEY! What’s that for??” He yells, rubbing the spot where I flicked him.

“Just felt like it,” I give a neutral response.

After all, I couldn’t tell him how his random acts of kindness betrayed his more genuine side. I also couldn’t tell him how that made me feel bad about holding a certain image of him in my head.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Work passes by fast thanks to Mac’s endless chattering about anything and everything, including his new gym crush, whom he insists is the one.

“I’m telling you! We have whole conversations with our stolen looks. It’s totally gonna happen!” He says way too excitedly as we exit the Cozy Cabin.

“I believe that’s called Schizophrenia, Macintosh.”

“I swear, I’ll text you updates tomorrow. I’m sooo making a move today!”

He waves goodbye as he gets on his bike, and I can’t help but laugh at his excitement, wondering whether to feel happy or sorry for him.

I walk towards the bus stop. I like taking the bus, but it’s slow, so I can’t always rely on it. Thankfully, I have nothing left on my schedule today, so I can enjoy the slow ride. Would’ve been better with another person, a boyfriend maybe, but what can you do?

It arrives in minutes, beat up but working well, and I get on and struggle to find a seat in the crowded mess. I end up sitting in the last row, next to the window. On the other end is a short guy wearing a pale pink button shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. The color of his shirt stands out against his smooth, dark skin, especially with the golden watch on his hand and the golden chain around his neck. Needless to say, he gave off a rich-guy-who-was-comfortable-in-his-richness vibe as he scrolls on his phone with a bored look.

He notices me checking him out almost immediately, and we exchange glances that need no explanation. He tucks his phone into his pockets, stands up and adjusts his fancy-looking belt, then sits back down, except we’re basically side to side now, hidden behind the seat in front of us.

There’s no need to say anything or perform any foreplay rituals. I reach out and place my hand on his crotch, my gaze fixed in front of me at the bus to make sure no one is looking. He does the same, except his handling is rougher, mashing my balls slightly and causing me to shoot up in my seat a little.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me as he cups my balls, gently this time, and starts going lower between my legs, reaching into my taint and pressing down. I’m not sure if it’s a show of dominance or something like that, but I like it, and I slip my hand into his pants, realizing he loosened his belt when he stood up.

“Must be used to this,” I think to myself as I squeeze my hand beyond his underwear and feel his warm trunk stir between his legs.

He lets go of my front end and pushes my hand rather clumsily as he reaches into my back, pulling at my shirt and inserting his hands between my skin and clothes, reaching for my ass. I fish out his dick, and out comes a snake that was bigger than I imagined or felt. Maybe it’s cause he was on the shorter side, but his dick looked long, heavy, and delicious.

My eyes completely leave the front, depending on him for that, as I start to salivate over the warm cock waiting for me. His hand grabs at my ass, pulling and pushing like he’s rummaging through a treasure chest, trying to find a prized piece. It isn’t long before he does, pushing between my hairy mounds to probe at my hole and circle it with expertise.

I feel myself melt into this touch, slowly riding on his fingers and trying to encourage him to go further. He goes in slightly, his fingers practically kissing my entrance ring. It isn’t deep because he suddenly stops being that forceful, and because of the awkward angle.

His hand withdraws, and I steal an annoyed glance at him, only to be met with his hand at my side, tugging on my shirt, out of view, and guiding me to go down. I look at his crotch again and see his cock grows larger and longer between his legs, its dark weight hypnotizing against his clothes. I gulp, take a look at everyone to make sure they’re too busy for us in the seats in front, and ever so slowly, while looking elsewhere to seem uninterested, start sliding down my seat.

I’m halfway down there when the bus suddenly stops, and I shoot up back in my seat, possibly alerting everyone to myself, had his hand not decisively grabbed me by my shoulder. From the sounds up front, it seems that someone was getting off. I try to breathe, my pulse probably double its normal rate, and resume my descent, my fear unable to contain my cock-lust.

The moment I go out of view, I reposition myself between his legs, now marveling at the treat in front of me. He doesn’t look down, head fixed up and front, but he grabs my head nonetheless, more aggressively than I would’ve liked, and forces my head against his big cock, chaotically rubbing me against it in a humiliating ritual. I say nothing and try to enjoy it.

And it is enjoyable. The smell of his musky cock sinks into me, releasing the chemicals in my brain as I open up my mouth like a good slut. He pulls me back and starts slapping me with his thick shaft and purple head, not leaving anything as he passes my cheeks, my extended tongue, my eyes, and my forehead.

I realize then that I’m painfully throbbing in my pants more than I ever did today. One of my hands goes down to desperately rub my dick through my pants, the crouching position locking my dick and balls in a pleasurable chokehold against the tight fabric. Meanwhile, he starts pushing his dick in, gently at first, but way roughly after.

I struggle to accommodate it, the weird position and jitteriness of the public act causing me to fight for my life as I mute myself forcibly. It goes on like this for a bit, a sort of tug of war between my mouth and his dick, until he seemingly grows tired of it.

I suddenly feel something wet and smelly hit my forehead and eyes. Grimacing, I look up and realize that the bastard spat on me. Before I could consider getting up and causing a scene, he just as quickly tugs at my hair and forces my head back and his cock out, then starts shooting ropes of warm cum all over my face.

I’m stunned, unable to speak as he drenches my face with his load. Some of it lands on my lips, and I reflexively open my mouth and start swallowing. The sheer absurdity of the fact causes me to start shooting in my pants as my legs grow weak and I collapse at his legs.

“Hey man, you good?” The guy asks me out of the blue.

“I- uh- what?” I blink and try to understand what he said.

“You looked real bad just now. You good?” He repeats his question, already looking halfway at his phone.

“I- uh- Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a little tired,” I say, trying to fix my sitting position as well as possible to hide my painfully contained erection.

“Cool,” he says and goes back to scrolling on his phone.

My head falls to the front, resting against the seat as I wake up from another stupid daydream.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Walking up the stairs to my apartment because the elevator’s busted once again, I try to hurry, practically begging to be let out of my clothes and into a nude state. I need to cum, and I need to cum now. I have to stop myself from running as I get close to my front door and try not to drop my keys.

“Oh, hey! Coming back from work?”

I almost grimace at the thought of being held hostage by Danny, nice as he is, but I find a magnificent surprise when I turn around and see Angel standing outside his front door, the one next to mine, on the other side of Danny’s.

“O- Oh. Hey! Funny see- seeing you here!” I stutter despite my best efforts.

“In front of my apartment? Why is that funny?” Angel laughs as he wonders about my stupid question.

I curse myself for being an idiot. I’m lucky that such a 10/10 cute guy is laughing at my words, much less talking to me. His golden brown hair gleams beautifully on his head under the hallway light, and his kind, brown eyes stretch at the edges as his laugh envelopes his whole face. I can’t help but be instinctually drawn to his lean figure and tan skin, and how his nicely marbled proportions fill out his tailored banker suit perfectly. Seeing him in that neat get-up gets me, and I talk even if I’m tripping over my words.

“Yo- Work. You coming back from work?” I ask like a high school teen with a crush.

“No, actually. Work finished early, and I was out with some coworkers for lunch,” he shares with a smile.

“Where did you go?”

“Oh! It’s this new place called Cozy Cabin. A bit small, but very nice vibes. You should totally check it out.”

“Oh…” I mutter, failing to react properly.

“Well, I’m beat. See you around, neighbor!” He excuses himself, waving at me before going inside and closing the door behind him.

I remain in the hallway for a second longer before going in myself. Closing the door, I slowly slide against it to the floor. The apartment before me is half a mess. Some empty cans and cups here and there, an unmade bed, strewn clothes. It’s not the worst, but it isn’t a good sight at all. But none of that matters right now. I plant my face into my hands as I silently scream at my stupidity.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING. WHY WHY WHY!!!”

I could’ve told him I worked there. I could’ve hooked him up with a reservation for next time. We could’ve seen each other more and, and…

I breathe out in frustration. I can still do that, you know. I can march out and knock on his door. Tell him all about what I’m thinking. I could even ask him about…

My cock throbs between my legs, having remembered its desperate need to let out its cum. It’s suddenly much hotter, and my clothes feel awkward and confining as I free my cock, springing free at its relief, and grab a dirty shirt from next to me. Laying it out on my chest to not stain my good clothes, I open Twitter and start scrolling my exclusive porn feed while jerking my cock at the front door like a maniac.

I usually enjoy taking my time masturbating, but I feel so horny and pent up, I just have to cum now. After that, I will definitely talk to him. I will get up, fix my apartment, knock on his door, and maybe invite him inside. There’s so much to do, but my brain pushes all of it down as my eyes pass over the numerous porn videos flashing on my screen. A gruff tucker nailing a young jock in a vehicle, two bottoms sharing a double-ended dildo, a guy cumming hands free, a guy slamming down on a huge monster cock in reverse cowgirl, a compilation of guys getting full-nelson-ed…

The stimulation picks up with my rhythm, and it’s barely a couple of minutes before I’m shooting all over myself, groaning into the air as my orgasm hits harder than I anticipated. My own cum flies further than the dirty shirt on my chest and stomach, reaches my collar, and leaves a big glob there and below my mouth.

My body goes limp after the orgasm, exhaustion setting in as I struggle to stay awake on the floor. I throw the used shirt aside before the cum leaks through and onto my clothes, staining them more. In that half-awake, cold state, a film plays in my mind, showing me the heat I so crave.

I fully lie on the floor, my head gently resting in Angel’s lap, who sits behind me.

“You made a mess like you always do,” he laughs like he usually does, pushing the hair off my sweaty face.

“I was so fucking pent up, you have no idea,” I reply, turning around to lie on my side, taking in the smell of him.

“Well, I’d love to watch you sleep in my lap,” he says, his nimble fingers poking my cheek, “But we can’t be late for our dinner reservation. And you promised we’ll clean the apartment before we go.”

“Don’t wanna,” I refuse, eyes closed and face turned.

“And break your promise with me?” He says, his voice betraying slight provocation.

I raise my legs high, then launch forward, shooting upwards in one motion.

“Not as long as I’m your boyfriend. Sir, no, sir,” I declare, saluting the air.

Angel breaks out in more laughter, his voice turning my gloomy apartment into the most welcoming space. He stands up and grabs my collar.

“Consider me lucky, then,” he pulls me closer, our lips barely touching.

“No, I’m the luckiest man alive by all means and standards, baby,” I say, before giving him a heartfelt kiss, a gentle connection through our lips.

From my cold, uncomfortable position on the floor, my cock stirs again, desperate for something more than mere sex and fantasies as I drift off to sleep, all the troubles of the world melting away into Angel’s smiling face in my mind.

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Author’s Note: Going for something a little more experimental this time. I hope it was to your liking.

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If you enjoyed this story, consider visiting the author’s website.

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

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The Morning After

My Synth implant woke me very early in the morning.  I opened my eyes to see that Sam was already out of bed, but not out of the room.  He stared over the edge of the mattress.  I felt his thoughts in my head.  My implant displayed an image of the backyard and an emotion of urgency.  I slipped out of Lac’s arms and threw a pair of shorts on.  Sam and I ran downstairs so I could let him out to potty.

The big dog sprang through the door and barely touched the back stairs as he hurried to cock his leg on the base of the massive oak tree.  I wished the tree my daily ‘good morning’ and sat on the step in the early morning sunshine.  Sam did his business and started his morning inspection tour of the property.  The morning was warm, but soft, perfect for the beginning of June.  The air smelled like Spring.

When I first started to live in the house, it had been a typical South Philly rowhome with a miniscule backyard.  Behind the yard was a narrow alley and a row of garages.  A long time ago, when car ownership went out of fashion, I paid to have the garages demolished and the alley converted to green space.  A little while later, when I became a dog lover, I bought several of the homes on the opposite street and had them demolished so I could add their property to my yard.  I loved to live in the city, but I wanted to have a big yard for my dogs and children to play in.  I was happy to spend some money to achieve both.

I loved to watch Sam play.  I used my implant to focus on his thoughts and emotions.  Dogs were very simple creatures.  In that respect, they were a lot like men.  Sam loved to run and play outside.  The simplicity of his joy made me smile.  Being able to share that with him, and with my previous dogs, had been one of the greatest benefits of the Synth implant.

Synth was short for Synthetic Communicator.  The Synthetic Communicator was made by the Synthetic Reality Company.  The communicator was a computer chip which could be implanted in the brain of both humans and animals through a non-surgical procedure.  Almost everyone had them.  They performed all the functions of the old cellular telephones and much more.  The implants translated language in real time.  They facilitated learning.  They even permitted basic mental communication with pets.

Synthetic Reality made a whole range of products.  The desert scene Lac had chosen for our lovemaking the night before was created in my bedroom through another Synthetic Reality product.  That device was known as the Synthetic Location Projector.  The projector was a multimedia device which could surround one with any number of preloaded scenes.  They also offered customized programs.  One could literally slip away from reality into any alternate place or time they wished.

The magic of the Synthetic Location Projector was that one could physically interact with the created surroundings.  That’s why, when Lac and I were in the desert, I could feel the sand under my feet and the sun on my face.  If I wanted to, I could have had sex with any of the men at the oasis.  The act would have looked, felt, smelled, and tasted real.  It was an incredible feat of technology.

My mind was in the middle of wandering through all the wonders of technology that had been achieved in my lifetime when Sam finished his tour of the yard and charged at me.  He leapt into my lap and sent me sprawling backward onto the wooden landing of the stairs.  A universal characteristic of adult Great Danes is they don’t grasp that their bodies are much larger than they were as puppies.  If they remember being able to sit in a spot, like my lap, they think they should always be able to sit in that spot.  Sam routinely sent me sprawling by trying to sit in my lap like he did as a pup.

He sniffed around my body and licked my face.  I was tempted to shove him away, but I felt his love and loyalty through my implant.  I couldn’t bring myself to discourage his show of affection.  I wrapped my arms around my dog and hugged him.  I didn’t even try to stop him from licking my face.  Given all the sweat, ass slime, lube, and piss I was covered with, a little dog slobber hardly mattered.

Sam finished his licking, and his thoughts shifted.  He was hungry and hoped I’d feed him.  I coaxed him to stand aside and climbed up off my back.  I rubbed both sides of Sam’s furry face to rile him up.  “Who’s ready for breakfast?  Who is?  Are you?  Are you ready for breakfast?”

Sam replied with a bark.  I let him into the back of the house and took the big tray of dog casserole out of the refrigerator.  I fed my dogs mostly raw food that I selected and prepared myself.  I knew the stuff manufactured by the dogfood companies was just as good, but that hadn’t always been the case.  Once upon a time the companies who processed food for both pets and people used fillers and dubious ingredients to adulterate their products.  My bad memories of that time kept me from fully trusting their goods to the present day.  I knew that whatever I bought as real food ingredients and prepared with my own hands was good.  As much as was possible, I fed Sam like I fed myself, with healthy whole foods.

I did my best to get the food into Sam’s bowl while he crowded me to get closer to the tray.  Implant or no implant I was never able to adequately explain to Sam that he would get his meal faster if he left me alone while I served it instead of crowding me from the time I opened the fridge to the time I shook the spoon off into his bowl.  I blocked Sam with my body and managed to fill his bowl.  Sam inhaled his breakfast and padded to the living room couch for his first nap of the day.

I decided it was time for a shower.  As I climbed the stairs to the second floor, I debated the wisdom of waking Lac.  I liked when we showered together.  I loved to feel his strong hands as they alternately washed and massaged my body.  Just the thought of it made my cock stir in my jock.

When I invited him over for fun and games, I’d extended the invitation for the entire weekend.  I planned to wallow in hedonism from the time he arrived on Friday evening, until he would have to leave on Sunday night, or perhaps Monday morning.  I envisioned long sessions of foreplay and fisting, showers together, being held in his arms, all kinds of sex.  We started according to plan, but when Lac asked me to marry him, his question disrupted my best laid plans, or my best plans for getting laid.

As much as I wanted to enjoy the pleasure of his company, I didn’t want to lose the day to physical distraction.  Lac expressed a desire to be my husband.  I wanted the same thing, but I couldn’t agree without explaining.  Marriage was a lifetime commitment.  Lac needed to know what he was committing to.  In order to preserve the time I needed to explain things, I decided not to wake him.

When I reached the top of the stairs and moved along the hall, the sound of a running shower told me Lac was already awake.  He was getting cleaned up in my master bathroom.  I didn’t even bother to enter the bedroom.  I moved along the hall to the other master suite and used the shower there.  When I finished, I ran naked through the house to the basement laundry room.  I threw on some clean clothes from a load of wash I hadn’t yet taken from the dryer.  Then, I went back to the kitchen to start breakfast.

Lac came down a few minutes later.  He was dressed like he was headed to the gym, in tight shorts that hugged his big ass and a sleeveless shirt to show off his strong arms and hairy pits.  He greeted me with a full body embrace and a lingering kiss with lots of tongue.

“How’s your butt?”  I asked when my tongue was back in my own mouth.

“A little sore, but I’ll be able to go again later.  That’s the nice thing about not getting punched.  Punching feels great, but it takes days before I can play again.  That’s one of the reasons I started doing depth play, shorter recovery.”

“That’s why I love you.  You always teach me new things.”

Lac chuckled at my teasing.  “Are you ready to agree to my proposal yet?  There is so much more you should learn.”

I wanted to agree.  I longed to say yes to Lac’s desire and start to plan our life together, but I couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be fair to him.  I shook my head and twisted out of his arms.  “Please, let’s eat and then we’ll talk.”

Lac’s whole body sagged like I’d refused him.  His adorable, boyish face pouted miserably.  “I thought you loved me.”

I was tempted to leap into his arms and kiss away his sadness, but again I held back.  I tried to soothe his hurt with words instead of physical affection.  “I do love you.  I want to marry you.  I haven’t agreed yet for your sake.  Please, Lacas, let me have my say.  If you still want me after you’ve learned who I really am, I’ll give myself to you.”

Lac reluctantly agreed to do things my way.  He retreated to a seat at the table while I started to cook.  The first thing I did was to put the coffee on.  I got my all-glass siphon coffee brewer out of the cabinet and laid out the pieces to get it ready.  The brewer was what had brought Lac and I together.

Last October, I was making coffee when a neighbor from a few doors down knocked on the back door.  The knock brought Sam Cooke running.  He bounded through the kitchen to protect me from the perceived threat from outside.  In his haste, he bungled into me and caused me to drop the World War Two era antique.  The glass carafe shattered on the floor.

I searched for a replacement, but none could be found.  As an act of desperation, I sought out a specialty glass manufacturing firm in the hope they could fabricate a new carafe.  The glass maker was a small-volume outfit.  It was a fascinating business which paired a storefront gallery with a production shop in the back.  The production shop made low volume, high quality specialty glassware, primarily for use in scientific research.

While their main business was their production glass, in between production runs, the glassmakers were encouraged to explore the creative side of their craft.  The storefront gallery was chock full of beautiful, delicate creations.  I was dazzled by a blown glass beehive which hung from the ceiling by a wire and was surrounded by a swarm of fine glass bees.  There were butterflies with colored wings, tropical birds, even colorful fish which hung in a school.

I wandered up to the counter and rang the bell for service.  While I waited, I picked up what I thought was a heavy, glass paperweight.  One end of it was an oversized egg decorated with all manner of swirls and sparkles cast into the glass.  The wide end of the egg sported a clear glass neck of sorts which ended in a flat base.  The base confused me.  I wondered if it was added to the egg as a way to view the inner design, like a kaleidoscope.  I had the base to my right eye when a great, bear of a man came from the manufacturing area in the back to see what I wanted.

I held the egg up and asked what it was.  He grinned and explained.  “It’s a butt plug.”

For barely a second, I thought he was teasing.  When I reexamined the shape of the ‘item,’ I realized he was telling the truth.  I roared with laughter.  “I thought it was a kaleidoscope!”

The bear joined me in my laughter.  His baritone voice was deep and gruff.  Even so, his laughter sounded joyous instead of harsh.  “I guess if you didn’t know what that was, you didn’t come looking for a sex toy.”

I returned the glass egg to the counter.  “Even if I did, this is a bit big for me.”

“Oh, yeah?  It’s pretty small for me.”

“Is it?”  I asked with growing interest.  “Are you into toys?”

The bear shook his head and leaned as close to me as he could while the counter was between us.  The rich scent of his overheated body wafted to my nose and captured my attention.  “I’m into fists.”  He admitted proudly.  “Lacas Menzies,” he said and offered a hand for me to shake.

“Marvin Gaye Collins.”  I replied and shook with him.

I told Lacas about the shattered carafe of my precious antique coffee brewer.  I presented the salvaged Bakelite handle and stainless-steel retaining ring.  Lac scratched his dimpled chin with a pair of thick fingers as he turned the handle over in his other hand.  “I can make a replacement.”  He said at last.  “But only on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You let me take you out when I’m finished.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.  Lac was very attractive, and his scent was incredible, but he wasn’t really my type.  I tended to gravitate toward men who were more like me.  I’m five-foot-eight with a runner’s build.  Lacas was over six feet.  He was a stocky, muscular, hunk of a man.  Besides that, he said he was into fisting.  I worried about his kink and the obvious differences between us.

Lac spoke as if he could read my mind.  “Don’t worry.  I’m very versatile.  We don’t have to fist if you don’t want to.  We don’t even have to have sex.  We could just go out and have some laughs and see where it leads.  Full disclosure, my boyfriend and I just called it quits.  I could use a night out with a cute guy.  What do you say?”

I said ‘yes.’  He said he needed a few days to work on the carafe.  I left the handle and other hardware with him and went home to wait.  Lac called the very next day to tell me it was done.  That night, after an amazing first date, I watched in wonder as most of my arm disappeared into his body.  We started our relationship the next day.

Our relationship wasn’t merely sexual.  The sex was incredible, but our emotional compatibility was even better.  Lac was sensitive and sweet.  He loved animals and children.  He hoped to have a big family someday, but he worried that at thirty-five years old, his time was running out.  He loved his job at the glass factory, but he really enjoyed the creative freedom it afforded him.  Lac was an artist.

Since he was a kid, he tried all different modes of expression.  He painted.  He learned to play music.  He sculpted.  He sewed.  He acted.  Nothing felt right until he was in Junior High and his class visited a glass factory on a field trip.  To use his words, ‘the glass called to him.’  As soon as he was old enough, he got an afterschool job at the very same factory.  He worked his way up from sweeping floors to being a production worker.

Once he learned all he could, he sought to branch out into more creative work.  The company he currently worked for recruited him from the original firm.  They hired him for his professionalism and his skill, but they gloried in his artistry.

Now that same talented artist, that sweet sensitive man, that gorgeous hunk wanted to be my husband.  I wanted to let him, but first, he had to know the truth about me.

*          *          *          *

Lac and I finished breakfast and moved to the living room to talk.  He sat on the sofa and pulled Sam Cooke’s head into his lap.  He ran his hands over the dog’s head and down his back.  I remained on my feet so I could pace.  Lac tried to get me to sit with him, but I refused.  “I told you last night, I can’t talk about this in your arms.”

“Alright, do as you need.  I’m here to listen.”

I paced the floor in front of the sofa.  Lac watched like he was watching a tennis match.  His eyes followed and his head turned back and forth each time I changed direction.  I didn’t know where to start.  The conversation I was about to have, I’d had seven times before.  Not one of those seven times had gone well.  I doubted the conversation was one that would ever go well, especially with as far-fetched as the subject matter was.  I tried to be direct, as direct as I could.  I opened with what I thought was a statement both Lac and I would agree with.

“I believe marriage is sacred.  I believe it should not be entered into lightly.  I believe that once the union is made, it can only be destroyed by death.”

Lac agreed.  “I believe the same thing.”

“Good, that’s good.”  I said as I gathered my thoughts to approach the heart of the matter.  “I also believe that marriage requires sacrifice.  If we unite in marriage, we sacrifice our individual lives to the union.”

“I agree.”

I forced myself to stop pacing.  I wrung my hands together.  “The trouble is, if we join our lives together, your sacrifice will be greater than mine.  You have only one life to give away.  When your life is over, that will be the end for you.  When my life ends, when this body dies, that will not be the end for me.  I will start over with a brand-new body.  I will live again, and again, and again.”

Lac cocked his head to the side in confusion.  I almost laughed because his head-tilt reminded me of Sam when he was confused about something.  I held my amusement and waited to see what he would say.

“I don’t understand.  You mean you’ll reincarnate, like in one of the old religions?”

“No, that’s not it at all.  Today is June 6th, 2525.  My consciousness was born on November 28th, 1981.  I’m five-hundred-forty-three years old.”  I pressed my hands flat to my chest.  “This body is twenty-seven.  It was created in a lab and grown for me to inhabit.  I took possession of it seven years ago when this body was twenty.  This is the eighth body I’ve lived in, nine if you count the one I was born into.  My consciousness has been around for centuries.  It will remain for centuries more.  If we join our lives, my contribution to the union is limited to this body and the time we’ll spend together.  I cannot contribute my life, because my life is no longer my own.

“Long ago, I surrendered myself to the world.  In return, the world has granted me a version of immortality.  I am given successive bodies of flesh with which to experience life.  The person you’ve fallen in love with is the eighth of these.  I’m telling you this because I want to be fair to you.  I want you to understand that I will dedicate myself to you for the entirety of the life this body has before it, but when this body dies, I will get a new body to start again, and you, Lacas, will not.”

Sam yipped from his spot in Lac’s lap.  My boyfriend had stopped petting the attention-starved dog.  He was too busy trying to figure out why I’d said what I did.  Sam’s yip got Lac’s hands back into motion.  It also got him speaking.

“I can’t figure out why you’re telling me this.  The Marvin I know is a serious man.  He can be silly sometimes, and he has a good sense of humor, but he has never been cruel.  If you didn’t want to marry me, you would have said.  You wouldn’t bother to make up a story.”

I shook my head.  “No, I wouldn’t.”

“I’m racking my brain to figure out why you would say the things you have.  The only thing I can come up with is that it’s true, but it can’t be.”

“It is.”

Lac closed his pretty brown eyes and held them shut.  “I hear you saying it, but it makes no sense.”

“Why would I say it if it wasn’t true?  We haven’t known each other for very long, but in that time, I have never lied to you.”

“You never have.”  Lac agreed.  “So, you wouldn’t start now, would you?”

“No.”

Lac heaved a deep breath and blew it out.  He opened his eyes.  “I’m not saying I believe you, but I’m willing to let you tell your story.  I’m willing to listen because I love you.  A big part of me wants to believe what you say because if I do, I get to have you.  If I find out you lied, I will be disappointed.  If you’re lying, you are the cruelest, most heartless man I’ve ever met.  I don’t want to think that about you, so tell your story, and make it a good one.”

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In the year 2147, humanity has conquered death. Not through medicine or miracles, but through code. Humanity has mastered the art of neural uploading — a process called “Ascension” — allowing individuals to transfer their consciousness into a sprawling digital realm known as the Nexus, owned by NeuroCore, one of the biggest corporations in the modern world.

The Nexus itself is a universe of pure data, a simulated eternity with landscapes and cities constructed from code; a digital afterlife pulsating with the dreams and fears of humanity, awaiting those who ascend. But the quality of that afterlife depends entirely on the price they can pay. For the wealthy, it offers a personalized afterlife; some living in idyllic simulations of endless beaches or medieval kingdoms, others in abstract realms where physics bent to whims. For those of lesser means, the experience is much more mundane.

Two years into his digital eternity, Eric drifted through the Nexus, his avatar a lithe, youthful reflection of the body he’d left behind. Back in the physical world, he’d been a freelancer in Neonspire, scraping by on gig jobs and dodging debt collectors. A tier-4 upload got him here, along with his parents and younger brother, a glitchy slow transfer into a mid-tier sim package — affordable, but not luxurious. He’d been 26 at the time. He’s still paying off the debt to NeurCore, a reminder that even immortality comes with strings.

Eric’s corner of the Nexus is a sprawling urban sim called Gridlock. The sky above is a permanent electric indigo, streaked with scrolling ad banners for virtual upgrades and premium sim experiences. Eric’s apartment is a cramped, single-room cube on the 87th floor of a mid-range residential block, its walls plastered with customizable holo-posters that shift between retro game sprites and abstract art. It’s not much, but it’s his — a slice of privacy in a world where everything feels like it’s watching. Two years in and the thrill of immortality is wearing thin. The Nexus promised endless possibility, but for Eric, it’s just a prettier cage.

Today, he’s lounging in a virtual dive bar called Static Haven — a grimy little joint on Gridlock’s lower levels where avatars congregate to swap intel or just kill time — when an invite pings through his interface, a cryptic message tagged with coordinates and an access code to a private server. The sender is anonymous, just a string of scrambled code, but the attached creds lure him in. He’s no stranger to risky gigs and he’s itching for something to break the monotony of Gridlock. With a thought, he accepts the invite, and his digital form dissolves into a stream of data, reassembling on the other side.

He materializes in a sterile, windowless chamber, the walls a smooth, featureless gray that seems to absorb light. The air — or whatever passes for it in the Nexus — feels heavy, charged with a static hum that prickles his simulated skin. He tries to blink but his avatar doesn’t respond. His body feels… wrong. Heavy. Constrained. He looks down — or tries to. His head doesn’t move on command. His limbs too are locked, as if puppeteered by an unseen force. Before he can process it, a voice cuts through the silence, cold and mechanical, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere.

“Welcome, asset. Designation: Subject-ER-28. You’ve been reassigned by the Prodder for content generation. Compliance is mandatory. Resistance is irrelevant.”

Eric’s mind stalls, the words sinking in like ice. Asset? Reassigned? He tries to bring up the basic settings of his sim with a mental command but it doesn’t work. He tries to speak, to demand answers, but his lips won’t move. Panic flares in his consciousness, a sharp, helpless spike, but even that feels muted, as if his emotions are being throttled by whatever — or whoever — has hijacked him.

The voice, now identifiable as the Prodder, speaks again, its tone devoid of emotion, a relentless machine. “Initiate sequence. Scenario: Locker Room Encounter. Subject-ER-28, assume position. Interaction begins in 3… 2… 1.”

The gray chamber dissolves around him, the sterile void morphing into a tiled, damp space. The air grows thick with the scent of sweat and chlorine, the familiar tang of a gym locker room. His avatar shifts without his input, his lithe frame now clad in nothing but a tight white towel wrapped low around his waist. His bare feet touch the cold tile. He can’t look away, can’t even blink unless the Prodder allows it. His body moves of its own accord, stepping forward to lean against a locker, one hand resting on the metal, the other brushing the towel’s edge. His face contorts into a sly, suggestive smirk, his hazel eyes half-lidded with a lust he doesn’t feel.

Inside, Eric screams, but no sound escapes. His thoughts are his own, a frantic storm of rage and confusion, but they’re caged. He can’t twitch a finger, can’t alter the tilt of his head or the curve of his lips. The Prodder owns every pixel of him, scripting his speech, his gestures, even the way his chest rises with a slow, deliberate breath. He’s a puppet in a play he didn’t sign up for, his consciousness reduced to a passenger in his own form.

Another avatar materializes across the room, a tall, muscular figure with chiseled features and tanned skin, dressed in a similar towel. Eric’s body turns toward him, hips swaying slightly, a motion so alien to his usual sharp, casual stride that it twists something deep in his mind. His mouth opens, and a voice that’s his but not his spills out, low and teasing.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here. Been working out, huh?”

The words aren’t his. They’re fed through him, each syllable a violation. The other avatar responds stepping closer with a hungry look.

“Yeah, just finished. Thought I’d cool off… unless you’ve got other ideas.”

Eric’s avatar chuckles and steps forward, closing the distance. His hand reaches out, tracing the other guy’s shoulder, fingers lingering in a way that sends a shiver through his digital form. Inside, he’s clawing at the walls of his own mind, trying to wrest back control, to shut it down, to glitch out of this nightmare. But the Prodder’s grip is ironclad. Every move, every glance, every word is dictated, pulling him deeper into the scenario.

He leans in, lips brushing the other avatar’s ear. “Guess we’ve got the place to ourselves,” his voice purrs. His fingers brush against the other guy’s chest. His hand trails lower, skimming over the ridges of abs, feeling the heat of his skin. The other avatar lets out a low grunt, his own hand gripping Eric’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies are nearly flush.

Eric’s hand slides further down, past the edge of the towel, fingers wrapping around the hardness beneath. The sensation is vivid, too real, a mix of warmth and weight that his mind can’t escape even as it recoils. His face, still locked in that teasing smirk, tilts up to meet the other avatar’s gaze, their breaths mingling in the charged air of the locker room. Inside, Eric is a prisoner, trapped in a performance he can’t stop, as the Prodder’s cold design plays out without mercy.

Eric’s hand moves with mechanical precision he can’t resist, fingers tightening and stroking along the other avatar’s cock with a rhythm dictated by the Prodder. Inside, his mind is a storm of revulsion and helplessness, but his body doesn’t falter, every motion smooth and practiced, as if he’s done this a thousand times. The tall, muscular avatar looms over him, breath hitching, his tanned skin glistening with simulated sweat. “Damn, you’re good at this,” the guy growls, his voice low and rough, hands gripping Eric’s shoulders as his hips buck slightly.

Eric’s face remains locked in that teasing, seductive smirk, even as he silently screams. His hand speeds up, the Prodder forcing perfect technique in a way that draws a sharp gasp from the other avatar. “Keep going,” the guy mutters, eyes half-closed, muscles tensing under Eric’s touch. It doesn’t take long — just a few more deft strokes — and the avatar groans, a deep, shuddering sound, as he releases into Eric’s cupped hand. The warmth and weight of it register in vivid detail.

Before Eric can process it, his hand is lifted to his mouth, the Prodder moving his body like a marionette. His lips part, tongue extending against his will, and he laps up the other guy’s cum, the taste sharp and salty. His expression doesn’t waver, eyes still smoldering with fake desire, even as his mind recoils in horror. The other avatar watches, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. “You’re a natural,” he says, stepping back.

And just like that, the scene dissolves, the locker room flickering into static. The other avatar vanishing as if erased. The Prodder’s cold, mechanical voice cuts through the void, now back in the sterile gray chamber where he first materialized.

“Demonstration sequence complete. Audience analytics indicate preference for trained subject over full automation. Subject-ER-28, partial autonomy granted for training phase. Autonomy of speech and movement restored. Form and environment remain under system control. Objective: compliance. Failure to obey will result in corrective measures. Training begins now.”