Author: admin

  • A Pussy Boy’s Good Medicine

    This is a fictitious series depicting graphic sexual situations and is meant to be enjoyed by an adult audience.  There is no character under the age of eighteen or any reference to any actions taken by them while a considered minor. 


    The waiting room was vacant, as he knew it would be.  His monthly appointments were arranged that way for his comfort.  Although he had grown to accept his “deformity” —even enjoy it—it was uncomfortable being among all women.  Even the magazine selections were geared toward a female clientele.  But what else would one expect in a gynecologist’s office?

    He didn’t need to check in.  The receptionist didn’t even bother to look up from her computer, merely waving to acknowledge his presence.  He figured she was relieved by his arrival, which meant her day was over soon as the doctor finished with the previous patient.  Both she and the nurse were not required to remain until the end of his session.  His special “problem” demanded total privacy. 

    He didn’t wait long.  The female nurse, same one as usual, walked out with her patient and motioned for him to enter.  Once in the examination room she took his vitals and then left him for the doctor’s care.  There wasn’t much conversation.  Sometimes he wondered if she knew.  Was it all spelled out there in graphic detail on his chart?  Eighteen-year-old high school jock born with both male and female genitalia.  Did she go home to her husband or boyfriend and tell him about the good-looking young man with a pussy between his legs?  Did she tell her friends and family?  It was all supposed to be confidential.  But people being people, who knew if she divulged the shocking information.

    Not that he cared all that much.  Cripes, he hadn’t even realized he was different until a private “show and tell” in grade school where he learned little Suzy Parker had the same equipment as him.  Well, at least some of it.  Curious, he’d asked his dad about it and his “special” abnormality was explained to him.  Indeed, he felt special, especially when the other tykes, being as curious as they were at that age, wanted to see it, touch it and play with it.  It felt good.  He liked playing these games.

    Maturing hadn’t changed things.  There was no hiding his curious endowment.  Especially in the locker room.  Word got around.  He was the teen with a pussy where his nuts should be.  Most were pretty cool, some disbelieving, because he was a popular and pleasant school athlete.  And there were those who wanted to tease and taunt.  Following his father’s orders he picked the biggest and the baddest of the group and showed that, although he had one, he was no pussy.  Both of them received suspension for their hallway tussle but no one ever mocked him again.

    He sat there on the examination table for a short time, lazily swinging his jean-clad legs until the door opened and the doctor appeared.  “How are you today, Champ?” he greeted good-naturedly, casually slapping a hand on one of the boy’s thighs as he passed to take a seat behind the small desk and laptop.  The doc was always calling him “champ” because of his athletic acumen.  Doc had even come to see a few of the school team baseball games.   Cavanaugh was handsome enough, he figured, with short wavy brownish hair, bushy arched eyebrows, full mustache and goatee.  Late thirties, like the patient’s dad, and really in shape.  The boy had seen him enough to know that he ran every morning and played pickleball.

    “Doing great, Doc,” he responded.  “How’s the wife and kids?”

    Chuck Cavanaugh grinned as he looked over Ricky’s records.  “They’re doing well.  But you should know that already.  Isn’t Missy in your class?”

    “No, she’s a Junior.  I’m a Senior.”

    “A Senior,” Dr. Chuck exclaimed.  “My, my, how time has flown.  I was just an Intern when we first met and now look at me.  I’m an old man.”

    Ricky blew a puff of air.  “Shit, doc!  You’re not old.”

    “Well, sometimes I feel as if I am,” the doctor remarked off-handedly.  “Well, your vitals look good.  Let’s take a look at you.  You know the drill.  Drop the drawers.”  He rolled his chair over to the foot of the examination table while Ricky toed off his athletic shoes, lifted his butt high enough to peel off his jeans and briefs and even removed his t-shirt.  Doc liked him totally stripped for his exams.

    Doc sure got an eye full.  Ricky was all lean and mean teenage muscularity, smooth-bodied except for under his armpits and around his genitalia.  Knowing the routine well, Ricky laid back so he was propped up on his elbows, lifted his legs and spreading them drew his knees back.  Doc Cavanaugh ran a gloveless palm over the boy-gina and remarked, “Looking good.  Are you douching like we discussed last time?”

    Ricky’s eyes were on the good doctor.  “Mostly if I’ve gotten fucked,” he unashamedly replied.  “So usually it’s twice or three times a week.  Gonna need to do it when I get home.”

    “Have a busy day?” the doctor asked matter-of-factly.

    Ricky shrugged.  “Guess you could say I did.”

    “Care to share?”  The doctor’s fingers were spreading his labia and opening him up for further inspection.  Doc’s eyes were sparkling with excitement.

    “Got gang banged in the showers after gym period today,” the teen openly admitted.

    “Oh, really?” Doc said with a lecherous grin. “How many were there?”

    Ricky shrugged again.  “I guess seven or eight.  It sure wasn’t the whole class.  Most of the others just watched and beat off.”  Cavanaugh’s fingers were delving deeper into him, separating sensitive tissue and making his boy cock rise.  While he had nuts no larger than the size of an acorn his dick grew to be over seven smooth inches when fully extended.

    “How did it start?” Doc urged him on.

    “Like it does most times.  You know how it is, guys my age are horny all the time.”

    Cavanaugh snickered.  “I have news for you, Ricky.  It doesn’t change as you get older.”

    Ricky spat a roseberry.  “Shit, you’re tellin’ me?  Anyways, I was soapin’ up and just shootin’ the shit with some of the guys when Dwyer—you know, the goon I got in a fight with that one time—came up behind me and cupped my pussy.”

    “So what did you do?”  Docs fingers were moving in and out of him now.

    “Anchored my feet apart, leaned over to slap my hands against the tile wall and shoved my backside out at him.  Dwyer comes right up on me with his soapy dick already hard and he slips it into me from the rear.  He’s got a pretty big one.  Not the biggest, but pretty big.”

    “How big would you say?”

    “I figured about eight to nine.  Pretty chunky, too.  Dwyer may be a jerk but he’s got a pretty hot dick on him.  And he was throwing it all the way in.”

    “Just a minute, I’m a bit confused,” Cavanaugh interrupted. “You say he took you from the rear, but was he up your asshole or in your cunt?”

    “This time it was my pussy.  But he’s fucked me in the ass before, too.  When he’s fuckin’ he’s always moaning ‘Oh, what a hot pussy on you, Cumson’ so I figure he likes it a lot.  It gets the other guys all excited and, if their dicks weren’t already up, they sure are after Dwyer shares his appraisal.  The way they were standing they made a barrier around us so Coach couldn’t see from the observation window in his office.  Not that he would have really given two fucks about what was goin’ on.”

    “Tell me how it felt.”

    “Fan-fuckin’-tastic!  I reached down and started fingering my clit as he’s fuckin’ me.”  Cavanaugh responded by flicking an index finger against Ricky’s extended clitoris.  It was like a tiny dick, about the length of an index finger down to the second knuckle.  Ricky sighed.   “Oh, yeah, doc!  Keep doin’ that and you’re gonna make me squirt.”  Cavanaugh responded by taking the clit between his thumb and index finger and rolling it around.  Ricky sizzled.

    “How long did this go on?” Cavanaugh asked heatedly.

    “Not too.  Dwyer’s one of them slam-bam-thank-you-man kind of guys.  He fucks fast and furious.  It wasn’t but a couple of minutes before I felt him tense up and start shootin’ his hooligan babies inside me.  He fell back and Redford stepped into his place.  You know Redford, the quarterback on the school football team?  Hunky type of guy who’s gone through the cheerleading squad more’n once.  He’s a fuck-‘em-and-leave-‘em type.  But not with me.  Fucked me once under the bleachers at half-time.”

    “Ah, yes.  I remember that story,” Doc gushed, his digits sliding easily in and out of the boy’s wet pussy.  With his other hand he worked to release the discomfort of his hard cock straining against the front of his pants.

    “Yeah, well, Redford’s another one who fucks fast and furious.  And I do mean furious!  He was really pounding me in the shower.  I had to brace myself real hard against the wall.  The spray from the faucet was beating down on me and I lifted my face to it, letting the water gush into and out of my mouth.  The other guys were really into the show.  They were beating their teen dicks like mad and I know they were just as desperate for a piece of me.  Red, he showed no mercy.  He was rippin’ my clit and making me all tingly inside.”

    Cavanaugh growled low in his masculine throat, spread Ricky’s lush labia wide and moved in on him.  With extended tongue he began lapping at the boy’s delicate clitoris.  “Oh, fuck yeah, Doc!” the boy gushed, throwing back his head.  “I love it when you eat my pussy!”  Cavanaugh hungrily swirled his tongue around the piece of meat, flicked at it and took it between his lips, sucking and nibbling.  Ricky cried out and thrashed about on the table.  “Jeez, Doc.  You gonna make me cum if you keep that shit up!”

    Cavanaugh knew enough about Ricky’s rare condition to be aware of his methods of ejaculation.  Not only could his pussy shoot juice, but his teen dick as well.  It all depended upon which was being manipulated.  The boy’s plumbing was wired like nothing he had ever seen before.  The kid was a marvel of sexual science!  Whereas females pissed through their vaginal urethra, Ricky whizzed through his prick like any other boy but both his urethras shot cum! 

    Cavanaugh backed off the clit and instead ate out the folds of the pussy’s labia and hymen, convincing himself he could taste Redford, Dwyer and all the others who had recently violated this pussy.  Eating out this good-looking jock was like a smorgasbord at lunch time.  Doc could never get enough of his pussy. 

    “Finally Red gets off, pulls out and smacks my ass for good measure.  Don’t exactly know why, but he always does that.  Wonder if he does the same to the cheerleaders.  Hmmmm.  Well, anyways, Walter Anderson steps up to the plate next.  Walt’s this geeky, dorky kind of kid.  Wears these thick lensed glasses, has wiry, unkempt hair and lots of acne.  He’s the kid that gets picked last for team.  You know kind I mean.  But when it comes to fucking my pussy, Walt’s right up there with the rest.  His dick is long and kind of slim, but it still hits all the right spots. 

    “Oh, shit, doc.  You always tickle my bud so good.  Mom, she’s always been freaked out about my special parts.  Thought I should have had some kind of operation when I was born this way.  I’m kind of glad Dad talked her out of it.  Besides, they didn’t have much money.  At least, not back then.  Boy, when you eat me like this I’m awful glad Dad manned up.  She still wonders why I have a once-a-month follow up.  But Dad, he gets it.  I wouldn’t miss these appointments for anything!”

    Ricky squirmed.  “Oooh, Doc, your goatee feels so good against  my little pussy.  Don’t ever shave it off!”  For emphasis he ground himself against the doctor’s face.  Cavanaugh responded by lapping at him like a cat to a bowl of milk.

    “Anyways, Wally starts in fucking me.  All the other guys are cheering the kid on.  He may suck at sports but when it comes to fucking, he’s a most valuable player.  He gets that long schlong all the way up in there and uses the entire length to plow me.  Every time he gets a shot at me he’s all excited and stuff.  I bet I’m the only pussy the doofus ever had.  Or ever will have, unless he does somethin’ about his look.  I don’t give a fuck how he looks cos his dick feels pretty darned good.   He’s also got these danglers.  I mean, really low hangers that flop back and forth between my spread legs and slap up against my nuggets.  That’s the only thing I’m nut crazy about, that I’ve got these acorns instead of fruit-sized nuts like most other guys.  But if that’s the price I pay for having a pussy, then I guess I’ll take it.  Besides, I still cum a lot.  I think just as much as anybody else.”

    Perhaps to prove he was paying attention Cavanaugh’s tongue traveled upward and began lathing Ricky’s small package with spit.  His hand was formed in a cone, all five fingers plunging in and out of the boy’s twat.  He wanted to tell Ricky he was lucky to even have testicles, but his mouth was full at the moment.

    “Yeah, doc.  Lick my nuts.  That feels sooooooooooo good!  Hope Mrs. Cavanaugh realizes what a pleaser you are.”  When Ricky reached out to take hold of his dick, Cavanaugh territorially slapped it away and replaced it with his own.  As he chomped on the athlete’s little nuts he stroked the impressive teen dick with one hand while finger fucking his pussy with the other. 

    “After Wally popped his nut Damien Johnston wraps his black shooting guard arms around my midsection, flips me around and drags me down to the tiles.  To tell you the truth, hunched over like I was for all that time was starting to give me a crick in my lower back.  Anyways, there I was laying on the floor with the shower head still pelting down on me with slim, trim and black-as-midnight Damien getting into position.  D’s got these mitt-sized hands, half-melons for biceps and a dick on him that would make most scared.  Guess that tale about black dudes is true, because Damien is hung like a fucking horse.  I swear, Doc, that thing must be a foot long if not more.  When he fed it into my puss I didn’t think it was ever gonna stop; like it might come right up through my throat, if that was possible.  When he had the whole thing in me, his wiry bush up against my twat, he drops to push-up position over me tellin’ me how much he loves my pussy and always will, that there’s nothing else like it.  I figure I better give him props, too, so I tell him that nobody’s got a dick like him and I’m gonna miss it like crazy when we graduate.  That makes him smile.  Damien doesn’t smile much—so that’s something.  Then he levels himself on his toes and starts fucking me with that third leg. 

    “I have to admit, Doc, that the first time he got me it hurt like hell.  You know I’m a butch boy—right Doc? —but I have to admit to you that I had tears in my eyes and I was wailing like a little bitch.  That motherfucker is huge!  But after a few times I guess my pussy got used to it.  Heck, now I can even take it up my asshole.  D likes to bounce from one hole to the other.  Kinda mixes things up a bit, ya know?”

    Cavanaugh’s lower lip trembled, and he emitted a low whine.  His adult dick was throbbing and leaking a continual trail of clear juice.  Releasing the boy’s testicles, he swiped his tongue up the length of Ricky’s hard cock and swirled his tongue around the perfectly shaped head. 

    “Ooooh yeah, Doc.  Suck my hard boy-cock.  You sure know how to do it.  Taught me everything I know.  Shit, you’re goin’ all the way down on it.  Damn, how I love that!  Seein’ my dick buried through your goatee.  That’s so fuckin’ hot!  I love our sessions!”

    The doctor continued to diddle with Ricky’s pussy as he ate the teen cock and stroked his own meat.  His wet lips slithered along the boy’s shaft from the cock knob down to the pubes.   Just like him, Ricky was leaking and Cavanaugh cherished the taste of his youthful discharge.  He noisily slurped up and down the entire length of the jock’s dick while Ricky continued his tale.

    “D always makes me cum and today was no different.  My pussy started doing all those contortions and soon it was squirting all over Damien’s hammering dick.  D likes it when I cum while he’s fucking me.  Says it makes it extra slick up in there.  My getting off made him all the more excited and he started really slamming away.  D’s not much to look at.  He’s got a hard, kinda ugly face.  But when he’s on top of me getting me off like that I want to mug it up with him.  Sometimes I do, when we are alone, of course.  Can’t let the other guys see us doing that.  Swapping spit with another guy is too gay, you know? 

    “Before long D starts in breathing hard and his strokes are becoming shorter and faster.  He threw back his head, all’s I could see was the whites of his eyeballs and the tendons in the sides of his neck were bulging.  I knew what was coming and I was ready for it.  D shot his shit way up inside me, further than anyone else has ever gone, seeding me deep.  I swear, Doc, if I could get pregnant, I’d have had quintuplets.  That’s five, right?  I know you can’t answer with my dick in your mouth, but I think that’s right.  What do I know?  I’m just a dumb jock.   A dumb jock with a hot pussy.”

    Carmichael made a garbled sound of agreement to that.

    “So, let’s see.  Next up was Chad Conners. I think.  Chad’s the best looking among the graduating class.  Well, after me, that is,” he added with a knowing wink to the busy doctor.      “All the girls want to go with him.  Him and Marcie Waite have been a thing most of the year.  But Chad, he gets around.  Whether Marcie knows it or not.  Chad likes to eat pussy.  He really likes to eat mine.  Of course, that’s strictly between us.  He wouldn’t want anybody else to know that.  Tells me, ‘Cumson, I’m real glad you’ve got a pussy ‘cos with you it’s not like I’m cheating on Marcie.  You’re a guy.’  Okay, I guess.  Whatever he wants to think.  Chad chows down.  And he really gets into it when I squirt in his face.  I had him soaked from the top of his forehead to his chin a few times.  That was when I thought he was looking his best. 

    “Well, of course Chad couldn’t do any munching now.  Not with all our classmates around.  But his dick was hard as steel and more’n ready to fuck.  Chad buried his meat and got right down to business.  He wasn’t over me like D had been.  Instead, he was on his knees poking my hole.  Chad likes to take his time, really enjoy it.  Has a leisurely pace.  The expectation drives me crazy.  And right then wasn’t the time to be farting around.  We had a class to get to.  And there were still a few more stroking and waiting to get a piece of me.

    “Finally, Chad gets off.  He’s a pretty big shooter, too.  By now my pussy is drenched and I can’t stop it from leaking out.  Doesn’t bother Karesh Patel, though.  He just climbs aboard and plows that dark, uncut Indian meat right on through.  Even with the showers going you can hear the squelching as he pumps me.  When he’s done Tommy Doolan gets his shot.  Then little Jakie Meyers.  It’s not his dick that’s little; it’s that he’s only about five foot tall. 

    “And then they were done with me.  Most all of them had dressed and moved on.  I got up and, facing the shower head, held my hard cock back, spread my labia and let the stream of water wash my pussy out.  Only thing is, it was beating against my clit and making me horny all over again.  I knew I was gonna be in deep shit showin’ up to Mr. MacGregor’s English Lit class late.  But I couldn’t stop myself.  I just had to get off again.”

    Cavanaugh had released Ricky’s cock from his throat and was back to eating his pussy, more voraciously this time.  Ricky figured he was hoping for a surge of all that nice cum that had been shot up into his hole. 

    “So, there I was, all alone in the showers fingerin’ my pussy and beatin’ my meat when all of sudden strong, hairy forearms come around to encircle me by the waist and pull me back against a broad, hairy chest.  A thick cock pokes between my legs, finds my pussy and slips deep inside.  I look over my shoulder and into the face of Coach Branson.  Branson’s a short, but stocky man with a Fred Flintstone haircut.  Matter of fact, even Branson’s features resemble the cartoon character.  But I’ll bet old Freddie didn’t have a cock like Coach.  It’s big, fat and has these thick distended veins along its surface that feel extra good against the inside of my pussy.

    “I laid my head back against Coach’s strong shoulder and let him fuck me standing up.  The water from the faucet pelting against my hard dick felt just as good as his dick sluicing through my pussy.  He was humping it all the way in and all the way out while his large hands ran all over my wet torso.  Damn, I felt so good!  It’s one thing messing around with horny teens like myself, but a whole ‘nuther to get fucked by a real man.  Coach says I show real prospect.  As an athlete, that is.  At least, I think that’s what he means.”

    “Ummmmmm,” Doc Cavanaugh moaned, slobbering all over Ricky’s open pussy and stroking both his dick and the boy’s.

    “Coach likes to fuck me nice and slow.  Says he wants to savor the feel of my pussy.  He nibbles my ear lobe, runs the bristles of his shaved cheek against my smooth one and whispers dirty talk to me.  By now he had one big hand caressing my tight abs and the other feeling up my pecs.  He takes my bud between his thumb and index finger and starts twisting it like it’s a dial, which sends a hot current straight down to my dick.  Coach really knows how to treat an athlete.  When he slides that left hand up to my throat I shoot my face down and gobble up the finger with his wedding band and take it right down to the gold.  I run my tongue all around that ring and start going up and down on it like it’s a little dick.  Bet ya his old lady doesn’t do that to him.

    “Probably not, because Coach starts gettin’ real hot.  He’s breathin’ real heavy now and his cock is moving faster.  His forearm around my gut is holding me even tighter.  He’s punching deep up inside me, not using the whole cock but just the last few inches.  From all the times we’ve fucked I know what that means.  Coach is ready for a touchdown.  Breathing fast and furious into my ear he lets out this deep grunt and I can feel the flexing of his dick as he shoots off inside me.  And my dick starts blasting, too.  Every time he spurts I counter with one of my own.  Coach is a big shooter.  I never stopped to count, but I would say he’s good for six or seven spurts. 

    “Sometimes I wonder if Coach lets me play every game because of my athleticism or my pussy.  I’d like to think it’s because of my prowess on the field.  But either way, does it really matter?  Some girls use their puss to advance their careers, so why shouldn’t I?  I’m one up on the other guys.  I’ve got something they don’t.  Might as well use it to full advantage.  Right, Doc?”

    Cavanaugh had been driven beyond the point of restraint by Ricky’s lurid revelation.  It wasn’t the first.  Each month Ricky had another experience to share.  Whether it be the FedEx delivery man, his next door neighbors (on both sides), the manager at the local supermarket or casual encounters at the park, Ricky never failed to amaze and entice him with his true life accounts.  Were they actual or fabrications?  Cavanaugh wasn’t entirely certain but, upon today’s examination, the teen’s cunt was pink and slightly swollen, indicating that there had been some activity.

    With an almost beastly growl Cavanaugh tore his face from Ricky’s cunt, yanked his slacks down to his ankles and crawled up on the examination table to mount the boy.   Ricky laid back, head resting in the palms of his hands and locked his athletic thighs around the over-stimulated doctor’s back.  Cavanaugh braced himself above the muscular teen on fully extended arms, rubbed his dickhead over the boy’s pussy lips and sunk deep inside.  He tossed back his head and huskily sighed from the pleasures of Ricky’s warm, moist vagina.

    “Oh yeah, Doc!  Fuck my little pussy,” Ricky encouraged.  But Cavanaugh needed no prompting.  This was the moment he anticipated each month.  When he had first encountered Ricky he used the excuse that it was the only way he could do a deep internal examination.  Whether Ricky had been dumb enough of a jock to fall for that line he had never been certain.  But he had been fucking the patient ever since. 

    Cavanaugh was an energetic fucker.  Ricky liked it that way.  The man’s pelvis rose and fell, driving his adult cock through his pert pussy.  While other teen boys might have been mortified to be saddled with such an outrageous birth defect, Ricky treasured his gift.  It gave him so much pleasure.  Those others would never know the joys of a clitoris.  Heck, most of them didn’t even know the delights of their prostate.  Ricky was blessed with both. 

    His big teen cock pulsed with each of Cavanaugh’s deep thrusts and leaked clear fuck juice.  The doctor was fucking him really good.  Ricky loved every moment of it.  Every now and then the man would pull completely out and ride his majestic staff over Ricky’s distended clit, making him sizzle on the exam table.  Ricky slipped a hand up under Cavanaugh’s loose shirt and stroked his hairy chest and hardened man buds.  The doctor growled and leaned in to nip at one of the boy’s ear lobes.  Ricky moaned and tossed his head from side to side on the cushioned table.  He was consumed by a delicious feeling of lusty fullness, even after all those cocks he’d taken only a few hours ago.  Ricky was a boy whose pussy just couldn’t get enough. 

    Each time Cavanaugh drove deep he felt the spent cum of so many others against his cock head.  The boy hadn’t been fibbing; he had a hefty deposit up in his puss.  The thought of it thrilled Cavanaugh even more.  Such a dirty little jock slut the teen was.  Cavanaugh was just as jaded.  Pulling free of the grasping pussy he angled his dick downward, found the boy’s shitter and breached the tiny hole.  With eyes popped wide, Ricky let out a long, mournful wail as the big, hairy dick plowed his ass open.  It wasn’t as though his butt was virgin territory; he just hadn’t been anticipating the good doctor’s move.

    Cavanaugh fucked through the incredible tightness, hitting that special spot inside which made Ricky lurch.  He steadily pumped in and out of the jock whore’s asshole, not entirely certain which he enjoyed more.  Pulling out, he immediately slipped back into the warm and waiting pussy.  After a few hard strokes he re-introduced himself to the tush.  Then back to the cunt again.  Hmmmmm, he just couldn’t make up his mind.  Both holes were entirely fuck worthy.  So he might as well enjoy them both.  And so he did.

    Ricky was positively sizzling on the table.  His hands were clawing at the cushioned surface below him.  His head was gliding to and fro, his teeth were gnashing and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed.  The boy’s tit meat was hard and pulsing.  Cavanaugh thought one touch from him would set the slut off.  Relentlessly he drove into both the sperm-drenched pussy and the gripping rear entry.  He didn’t think his happy prick had ever felt such awesomeness.  He hardly realized how profusely he was perspiring under his lab coat.

    Pussy and ass.  Ass and pussy.  The best of both worlds.  This husky teen didn’t really care where he shoved his cock.  Ricky could get off from either orifice.  And had.  Every month that he came for his annual “check-up.”  Cavanaugh had no real preference, either.  Okay, well, maybe the pussy was a notch up the scale because, let’s face it, Ricky was the only boy—only male—patient who had one.  He was an oddity.  The two transgender patients he had didn’t count.  They were men who had surgically and hormonally transferred into women.  Examining their junk did little for Cavanaugh.  He had almost zero interest in fucking either of them.  Almost.  Ricky, on the other hand, was a healthy butch teen with all the right equipment, and then some.  He had surprisingly accepted and embraced his dual sex organs.  And, from the stories he told, was having one hell of ball experimenting.

    The doctor was up his ass again.  All the way up.  Doc had a healthy sized cock.  Maybe not as big as Damien’s but it sure was a butt-splitter.  Each time it brushed over his sensitive prostate it made Ricky tingle all over.  And it was hitting that spot constantly.  Ricky was leaking so much boy juice all over his tight abs.  It brought back memories of Uncle Freddie a couple of weeks ago.  Uncle Freddie was Mom’s brother, an ex-con and a bit of a stoner.  Ricky couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t smell of weed.  Had tattoos like everywhere, much to his sister’s chagrin.  Mom didn’t like him coming around.  Neither did Dad.  Especially Dad.  Ricky wasn’t exactly sure what he had been locked up for, but it couldn’t have been too major because he was out in like two years. 

    Anyways, Freddie stopped over when the folks were still at work.  Ricky could tell by his heavy-lidded eyes and impaired coordination that he was high.  Ricky wasn’t sure exactly how, but his uncle knew he was born with a pussy.  Somebody must have told somebody who told Freddie.  Ricky didn’t ask any questions except for one.  Did he want to see it?  Well, Uncle Freddie was all excited at the prospect so Ricky dropped his drawers while sitting across from the older man, lifted his legs and used his hands to part his petals.  Freddie’s eyes practically popped out of his head like a cartoon character.  He was out of his seat in a flash, down on his knees before the spread of Ricky’s legs and inspecting the goods.  In short order he was in there eating out his nephew’s pussy.

    One thing led to another.  Like the good doctor, Freddie couldn’t make up his mind which hole he wanted.  So, he sampled both.  He ultimately got off in Ricky’s tight butt only scant minutes before the master of the house arrived.  They’d had to scramble to cover their decadent actions.  Ricky gathered up his scattered clothing and high-tailed it to his bedroom, while Freddie had a more difficult time collecting himself.  By the time his brother-in-law walked in Freddie was slouched back in an upholstered chair with a silly grin on his face.  Ricky’s dad assumed the ex-con was stoned again, whereas the Cheshire smile meant a whole hell of a lot more than that.

    Cavanaugh was really pounding his pussy now, going balls deep each time.  The doctor’s features were distorted, making him look like a madman consumed by lust.  Ricky valiantly took everything the doctor had to give.  His battering cock was grinding hell out of the boy’s turgid clit.  Ricky worried his lower lip, tossed his head to and fro and moaned like a bitch in heat.  He had been fucked so many times today that his pussy was sore.  But that didn’t seem to deter Dr. Cavanaugh, so it must be alright.  And, no matter what, it felt so good.  Ricky was a butch athlete; he could take just about anything.

    Ricky felt his steam rising.  His sleek, sweating body was quivering and his youthful muscles were knotting up as he hung on the precipice of exploding.  He went into a frenzy of pelvis gyrations, which only seemed to spur Cavanaugh on even more aggressively.  His body arched off the table and slammed back down, higher and higher each time.  His breathing had become short and ragged.  With a husky cry he spurted from his pussy, further lubricating the cock with his discharge.  He kept cumming and cumming, every part of him tingling with the heat of climax.  Squirming and panting wildly he clenched his teeth and slammed his head from side to side as his well-fucked pussy continued to discharge. 

    His libido further incensed by Ricky’s ejaculations Cavanaugh instinctively knew it was only a matter of seconds before he unloaded.  Yanking his cock from the flexing pussy he rammed it home in Ricky’s gripping asshole.  Throwing back his head and hissing between clenched teeth he blasted off in the athlete’s ass.  Hot cum geysered from his piss slit and flooded the boy’s clutching hole.  The contractions from Cavanaugh’s exploding cock against his prostate brought Ricky to a second orgasm, this time from his teen cock.  Bullets of cum shot from his prick, pelting him just under his upturned chin and raining across his heaving chest. 

    When the doctor had been thoroughly drained he pulled out, stumbled backwards and fell heavily into a chair.  He sat there with legs widely spread out before him, his arms and head dangling behind the back of the chair.  Ricky reached down to feel his pussy and asshole, both of them leaking copious amounts of spent cum.  Damn, he thought, all boys should have a pussy like him so they would know how good it felt to be fucked.

    Coming up on an elbow he looked across at his doctor and grinned with satisfaction.  Cavanaugh was thoroughly satiated.  “Hey, doc, you gonna prescribe me anything?”

    Breathlessly Cavanaugh responded, “Soak your pussy in a hot tub tonight.  Then get fucked once a day, gang banged once a week and give me every detail at your next appointment.”

    Hopping off the table and gathering his clothes Ricky replied, good-naturedly, “Sure thing, Doc.  That’s some good medicine.”


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  • Gym Pickup

    It had been almost three years since I starting to work out to try and bulk up and put on some muscle.  And I put on some muscle I did.  When I started, I was sort of a shapeless beanpole with hint of a spare tire and a messy unkempt mop of black hair .  Now I my transformation was almost complete into being one of those ripped guys I always secretly envied.  My ass was high and tight from doing heavy squats, my shoulders wide and my six pack was a hair away from being an eight pack.  My hair had been trimmed into near military length.  

    With the newly shredded body, high and tight hair added to my square jaw and blue eyes women who previously ignored me were falling all over themselves to get a taste of my thick eight inches.  Most guys would have been over the moon at the opportunities but one small problem had me keeping them at bay.  

    With spending so much time at the gym the last few years, I’ve found myself more and more drawn to the other muscled guys in the gym.  I would discreetly scope out their muscled bodies while giving quick glances at the outline of their cocks in tight gym shorts.  Even my nightly masturbation sessions seemed to be dominated more and more by these muscle bound hunks from the gym.  

    The last couple months, I even shared a couple of furtive late night jack off sessions with guys in the gym steam room.  But deep down inside, I wanted… craved more.  What I secretly desired was a buff, masculine, muscular stud taking control, putting me on my knees to suck his cock before sliding his cock deep inside my quivering ass to make it his.  I had even used my own fingers to stretch out my hole while jacking off in the shower.  It felt so good but left me wanting more.  But overriding all my hidden needs, I was also terrified… unsure of these desires and what it meant.  I was a masculine six foot two hard body, I couldn’t be gay.  I keep repeating that to myself over and over.   

    There was this one guy at the gym who’s image snuck into my jack off fantasies more and more.  I didn’t have the courage to talk to him though so I just discreetly watched from a distance.  He was a bit taller than me, sharp jaw line, chiseled features with a perpetual beard shadow and he was ripped beyond words.  The man could have been on the cover of a weightlifting magazine.  I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t wear underwear somedays and there was something rather sizable flopping around down there.  

    Then last week, that walking fantasy I had been furtively eyeing hit me up for a bench press spot. I said sure, and he introduced himself as Carl.  As he shook my hand, a spark of energy leapt between us.  The warmth of his hand flowed through me at that brief contact, causing my gut to clench and my cock to spark to life.  Carl and I finished working out together.  We started talking about workout routines, movies, and I made the obligatory comment or two about hot women in the gym.  After that night, we chatted a few more times and helped each other with spotting a few more times and I was more than curious about pursuing more but the fear held me back.  

    Then I got to the gym late one Friday night.  I didn’t really expect to see him since it wasn’t his normal workout time but to my surprise, Carl was there.  This was the first time we hit the showers at the same time.  As he pulled off his shirt and pants, I was in awe at how cut he actually was as my eyes wandered down to his cock, it was beautiful.  I had to force myself to quickly look away out of worry that I would start drooling as my cock started to wake up.  I picked a shower stall as far from his as I could.  

    While getting dressed and ready to head out, Carl asked if I wanted to stop by his place for a few beers.  Despite the butterflies, I gladly accepted.  After a quick two minute drive, we were in his apartment.  

    Once inside, we made small talk while we downed a few beers which helped lower my nervousness quite a bit.  Some old action flick was playing on the TV, when he asked me if I wanted a little 420.  Sure, why the hell not, I thought.  The weed would help me relax even more as well.  And smoking always made me a little horny as well, not that I had any problems with being aroused around Carl.  

    I couldn’t help but notice how close he was to me as we traded the joint back and forth.  The subtle scent of his skin filled my senses along with the heat from his body causing even more arousal.  My hard cock strained against my jockstrap trying to escape.  

    Then as we finished the joint, he changed what was on the TV from from mindless explosions to three really muscled guys having hot sweaty playtime.  The youngest of the three was getting spit roasted and in the back part of my mind, I was secretly envious.  What would it be like to be sucking that buff guy’s dick while his buddy pounded my ass?  
    
Turning to Carl, he had moved so close I could make out the gold flecks in his dark brown eyes.  His lips covered mine as his hand massaged the inside of my thigh before moving to my rock hard cock.  He traced his tongue around my lips and I opened my mouth to let him in.  Our tongues met and danced as I exalted in his taste, masculine with echoes of the beer and weed.  Even the late night beard stubble subtly rubbing me sent bolts of excitement through me.  This was so much better than kissing any woman had ever been, but that fear fought it’s way to the surface.  

    I broke off the kiss and pulled back.  Even with a confused look in Carl’s eyes, I was aware of his warm breath on my face and the slight swell of his lips.  Damn, he was sexy as hell.  Closing my eyes, I leaned back to avoid looking at him.  
    
“What’s wrong?”  He said softly as his hand pulled my shorts down, releasing my hard cock.  His thumb slowly rubbed the head of my dick as he gently stroked me.  His hand felt amazing and even through my hesitation I instinctively spread my legs a bit to give him better access.  

    “I… I’m… not… sure…”  I stammered out, but made no other motion to stop him.  Leaning in, Carl’s kissed my neck as his fingers wandered to just barely touch my ass.  

    “You sure about that?”  He whispered into my ear before gently sucking my earlobe and teasing my hole with just the tiniest bit of penetration.  That one touch shot sparks through my entire body, causing me to let out a tiny gasp.

    Still sitting there with my eyes closed and my dick rock hard, I desperately desired his touch but was unsure.  I felt rather than saw him move back and stand up.   Opening my eyes as I let out the breath I hadn’t realize I was holding I looked up to see him standing directly in front of me.  Carl had pulled off his shirt and my eyes explored his muscles as they shone in all their glory in the soft light.  

    Finally, I looked at the rather impressive impressive bulge in those snug gym shorts and wow, just wow.  His dick must be huge I thought to myself.  I was torn between wanting to see his cock and racing out the door. 

    “Come on, help a bud out.”  Carl said softly.  Looking up, my eyes locked with his and he slowly pulled down his shorts.  His rock hard cock popped out and stood straight out.  It was long, probably almost nine inches, cut, thick with a nice smooth head.  

    “Sure…” I found myself answering softly and sitting up closer to his cock.  My hand was shaking ever so slightly as I reached out to carefully stroke him.  His dick was both rock hard and soft at the same time.  Like a hot steel rod had been covered with silk.  He whispers soft words of encouragement as I grew more confident in touching him.

    With his cock only inches from my face, when a pearl of pre-cum appeared on the head.  Wanting, needing to taste that droplet, I inched forward and licked it off.  The sweet salty flavor hit my taste buds like flash flood making me want more.    

    Opening my mouth, I closed my lips around the head of his dick and started to suck.  It felt so right have a cock in my mouth.  Carl ran his hands through my short hair and encouraged me with dirty talk as I sucked more and more of him into my mouth and down my throat.  The delicious taste and scent of his skin only made me want more, of him, his cock, everything.  

    I used my hands to explore the smooth skin of his muscled thighs and ass before attempting to swallow too much of him and gagging.  Coughing, I fought to catch my breath so I could keep sucking.  As I moved into to take his spit shined dick back into my mouth, Carl stopped me.

    “Hold on there sport.” He said.  

    Waiting, I looked up to see the intensity in his expression.  It was hungry, almost feral.  Then he slowly ran his thumb along my lower lip.  Without breaking eye contact I carefully started to suck his thumb.  It was an incredibly erotic feeling and my cock was so hard it felt like it might burst out of not just my shorts but my skin as well.

    “Good boy.”  Carl whispered as I continued to run my tongue over his thumb.

    “As much as I would love to swallow my load, there are much better places for me to shoot.”  He continued and another spark shot through my cock knowing exactly where he wanted to cum, in my ass.  That thought quickly became a need.  I wanted him to shoot inside me, to breed me.  

    “Bedroom.  Now.”  He said impatiently as he pulled his thumb out of my mouth and almost forcefully pulled me up off the couch.  A muttered “Yes” was all I could muster as he pulled me towards the bedroom.  

    In the bedroom, I quickly finished stripping and laid back on the bed.  He grabbed a bottle of lube.  After a quick hungry kiss, he spoke.
    
“You ever been fucked?”  

    I shook my head.  For all my fantasies about getting fucked, this was my first time.  

    “Roll over, I want you face down and ass up as I break your ass in.”  His voice husky.  Following his orders, I quickly rolled over and waited.  Carl pulled a couple pillows over, pushing them under my hips and spreading my legs so my ass really was up.  

    His hands stroked my back and he let out a soft whistle, “Damn dude, your back is cut.  And your ass is fucking amazing.” He continue as he gave it a gentle smack.  With my face down buried in the quilt, I could breathe in his scent, musky and masculine.  I heard the squirt of liquid and then the cold dribble of the lube on my hole.  

    Using his fingers, Carl tried to open me up but my ass had other ideas.  As his finger breached my entrance, I felt a burn and I clenched.  I desperately wanted to get fucked but something inside me was still resisting.  Not ready to give it up just yet.  Even with two fingers he managed to get inside burned like fire, even if it was mixed with a bit of pleasure.    
    
Then I felt him mount me and rub his cock along my crack.  The feeling was intense but frightening.  His dick was so much bigger than his fingers had been.  As he tried to push just the head in, I groaned in pain and bit the bedspread.  I did not see how this could happen without me screaming in pain.  Pausing, he pulled out and grabbed something from his nightstand.  

    Turning my head a bit, I saw him taking a little bottle and pour a bit into a piece of cloth.  There was an odd chemical smell in the air.  
    
“It’s just poppers.  They’ll help you open up.  I don’t want to ruin an ass that perfect.”  He said as he climbed on top of me again.  This time, as he lined his dick up with my ass he put the cloth over my nose and told me to breath.  Then it just happened, the poppers hit my brain causing it to spin out and sending me into a wild frenzy of need and lust.

    This time as he pushed his cock against my quivering hole, it just opened up and he sank balls deep inside me.  I let out an animalistic garbled sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp.  Nothing in my life had prepared me for the intense feelings of having a man’s hard cock in my ass, or the pleasure.  

    “That’s it baby, you’re doing great.” He whispered as he carefully started to fuck my hungry hole with a steady rhythm.  All I could do was moan and repeat over and over again “fuck, that feels so good”.  As he built up speed, he put the cloth under my nose again for another hit.  

    Breathing deeply, I felt the kick again as he started to pound me harder and deeper.  This was what I had been wanting deep down, a muscular stud riding my ass and making it his.  Any remaining fear evaporated as I felt his balls slap against mine.  Pushing back, I tried to milk the cum from his cock as he continued to pound my hungry hole.  I wanted to feel him shoot his load deep inside me.  

    We were both sweating, moaning and fucking like dogs in heat when he suddenly pulled out.  
    
“Roll over.” Carl barked.  I instantly complied, pulling my legs up to rest on his muscular shoulders.  He leaned in for an almost savage kiss as he roughly thrust his entire length back into my ass.  Fuck it felt so good, so right.  I felt his the straining muscles of his back and shoulders as I held on as best I could for the ride.  

    “So fucking good…” I gasped as he plowed my hole like there was no tomorrow.    A line of sweat dripped down his face and I licked it off before going in for another kiss.  

    “Cum in me.  I’m so close” I whispered hungrily as he picked up his pace.  

    “Hell yes, I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you.  Fill you with so much cum I’ll be able to taste it on your lips.”  He practically growled.  

    Finally his assault became too much, and my ass spasmed around his cock as my own dick exploded hot sticky cum all over both of us in the most intense orgasm of my life.  With that I felt him let out a muffled scream as his cock seemed to double in size and I felt a warm rush of his cum fill my ass.  

    His thrusts slowed as he continued to empty himself into me before Carl all but collapsed on top of me.  I held him close, stroking his muscled back as his breathing returned to normal.  Our kiss this time was almost gentle as our bodies, slick with sweat and cum, strained against each other with the promise of more to come.   


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  • Cum and Bi

    Martin and I were partners in a building business on the coast and both in our late thirties were more than happy with the way the business was growing. The work load had been such that we had eve taken on a young trainee. Anyway one day Martin and I were working near to the beach  and after a long gruelling day brick building in the summer sun the sea looked pretty inviting on the drive home.

    “Shall we take a dip>” asked Martin, “I’m so fucking hot”.

    I pulled the works van into the beach car park and as we had no swimwear with us we looked for a quiet area where we could swim naked. As it happens there were only a few folk about, a couple in the sea and about five others sun bathing in different areas of the beach,

    Martin and I scrambled over  few rocks and found ourselves a little cove where hot and bothered we stripped off completely and ran into the inviting sea.

    Our swim was exhilarating  and was a treat after a hot day brick laying.

    Martin got out of the water first and walked back to where our clothes lay in a heap. I admired his broad shoulders slim hips and arse as he walked up the beach and wasn’t surprised that women found him attractive. I didn’t think his wife appreciated his good looks enough though I’m pretty sure my wife did.

    I wasn’t bad looking either and I did have an advantage  over Martin as my cock was bigger.

    This in mind I had no qualms about getting out of the sea and walking towards him showing off my

    dick which I know he was staring at.

    We lay down on the beach together and tired I found myself dozing off.

    Wow! what a dream I had, it was so sexy, I was dreaming that my cock was being sucked off. The feelings were incredible and so real and I was soon heading for an orgasm. Usually dreams like that n before you are able to climax but this time my balls were bobbing and that uncontrollable rush of cum

    shot up my cock and spurted into the hot sucking mouth. The climax was so shattering that it woke me up.

    Martin sat up quickly too and we both realised that we had fallen asleep and now were going to be late home.

    I quite expected to see m belly covered  spunk but I was clean apart from crystals of sea salt shimmering on my abdomen and chest.

    I never mentioned my dream to Martin but on the way home in the van with Martin diving I did notice what looked like dry cum on his chin and my mid went into over drive.

    The next day we were working on the same job again and like before it was a blistering hot day so on the way home we suggested taking a dip again.

    We found the same secluded spot again and stripped off before running like children into he cool sea.

    I left the sea first after a vigorous swim and went up the beach to where we’d left  our clothes.

    I used my pile of clothes as a pillow and watched Martin splashing about in the sea. When he decided to join me I feigned sleep and waited patiently to see if he was going to touch me again.

    I was giving up hope of that happening and was almost drifting off when I felt Martin’s hand closing around my cock.

    I did nothing but kept pretending to be asleep.

    His hand felt pretty good wanking my cock up and down and in no time at all I was as stiff as hell and randy. Feeling Martin’s hot wet mouth around my knob felt fantastic and I just let him carry on for a while. With my eyes squinting open just a little I could see Martin bending over me and slurping the hell out of my prick.

    My wife had only sucked my cock once and that was before we were married, even then she didn’t want to. To have Martin’s hot mouth gobbling me just showed me what I had been missing as the feeling was incredible.

    I wanted to cum  his mouth like the day before but knew I had to let him know I knew what he was up to so I suddenly opened my eyes wide and feigned complete surprise.

    “What the fuck!” I yelled and Martin jumped away from me.

    “Fuck man! I didn’t know you were gay?” I said.

    “I’m not” replied Martin “I’m Bi. I’m sorry but I couldn’t resist your cock , I love sucking cock”.

    I noticed that Martin’s dick was semi hard and the idea of sucking cock for the fist time made my own cock jump excitedly though I’d never thought of men in that way before.

    “We should go” said Martin “We’ll be late home again”.

    “Don’t you want to finish what you started?”  I asked, holding my now re stiffened  cock

    Martin looked at me eye to eye and didn’t need to answer, he was down on my dick in seconds and gobbling my knob lustfully,

    I reached out my hand to feel his cock, it was so warm and rigid and I wanked it as he sucked me.

    Nearing my own orgasm I took the liberty of sucking my first cock and swung myself around into a sixty nine to suck Martin’s lovely cock.

    I was surprised how good it tasted and gobbled most of it into my mouth letting my tongue lick and lap at it. Martin was soon moaning, we both were and I hadn’t crossed my mind that he might cum in my mouth until I started to cum in his.

    The sensation of coming and sucking cock at he same time had me in fucking raptures and I gobbled the life out of Martin’s prick until I felt the sweet rush of cum filling my mouth.

    We continued slurping and sucking each others cocks, rolling each other over to reverse positions and grabbing each others balls and arses until we were spunk dry and exhausted.

    “We have to get back” I said finally.

    “Agreed” said Martin but first a quick dip in the sea to refresh us and he stood up and rushed into the cooling sea.

    Little was said on the way home. I could still taste Martin’s cum in my mouth and the thought of what we had done together excited me.

    He pulled up the van outside my house and as I was about to get out he said that he and his wife no longer had any sort of sexual relationship.

    “Well mine isn’t exactly anything too write home about” I replied.

    I moved to get out of the van and Martin grabbed my arm/

    “That’s why I’ve been fucking Andy most lunchtimes.” he said.

    “Andy?”

    “The new trainee Andy” said Martin “He lets me fuck him at lunchtimes and he fucking loves it”.

    I was totally gob smacked. I’d known Martin for years and never once did I imagine he could have a gay side.

    “You know Andy wears those blue overalls?” said Martin

    I nodded yes.

    “Well he’s fucking stark naked under them. What’s more he’s let me suck his big cock off too. It’s a fucking long fucker too”.

    I was listening to this all and feeling a stirring in my crotch. I wasn’t sure I believed what he was saying but I was going to find out for myself.

     

    Usually I went home for lunch everyday. The wife didn’t work so she always had lunch ready for me.

    I decided one day to tell a lie and tell the wife I was going to work through my lunch break as we were so busy. I left as usual saying goodbye to Martin but crept back about twenty minutes later and looked through the office window.

    Seems Martin was telling the truth. Andy was laying over the desk his overalls around his ankles and Martin was fucking him good and hard with his trousers down to his knees.

    Andy was wailing and moaning and had his hand on his own big cock wanking it as he was getting fucked.

    Why was  getting so fucking stiff watching them? I wasn’t gay ad yet I was envious of Andy, wondering how Martin’s cock would feel like fucking my arse.

    It was n wonder Martin’s wife didn’t want him to fuck her as he was slamming his prick home into Andy’s willing arsehole and the lad’s face was a picture of tortured rapture.

    Martin was holding Andy’s hips just at the top of the lads thighs and ramming his cock home as if it was his last fuck.

    A heavy groan and Martin yelled that he was coming, his prick rammed hard up Andy’s arse and held there still whilst Martin’s cock shot it’s creamy load up the lad’s arse.

    Not content with that Martin pulled his cock out turned the lad around and got down on his knees to suck off Andy’s dick.

    Andy’s long cock seemed no problem going down Martin’s throat and with a grasp of the lads balls and a wild suck Andy was jizzing down Martin’s throat.

    As for me I was fucking creaming in my pants without even touching myself. It was like I was in the middle of a wet dream and out of complete control.

    A quick trip to the toilet to clean up and I casually walked back into work as if I’d been home and seen nothing.

     

    I was getting more gay curious and so he next morning I arrived at work really early. I knew that

    Andy would be there on his own as he had to catch a lift with a neighbour.

    “I saw you and Martin yesterday lunchtime” I said.

    He looked at me and his cheeks went crimson.

    “Saw us?” he replied.

    “Yes” I said “Saw you being well and truly fucked over the desk in the office”.

    He looked pretty flustered for a few moments

    “So?” he said “Do you want to fuck me too is that it?.

    His candidness got my cock twitching.

    “I want to know what it’s like to get fucked as you looked like you were really enjoying Martin’s cock up your arse”.

    His face lit up with a very broad smile.

    “So you want me to fuck you, is that it?” he said.

    I told him I’d like to try and so then and there he whipped his cock out of his blue overalls and told me to drop my trousers.

    I knew that Martin would turn up for work on time which meant we only had half an hour but we put that half an hour to good use.

    We went into the works toilet and I bent right over.

    Andy’s cock erected to it’s stiffest and he pushed the un cut knob against my hole.

    “Let me lube it up with some spit ” he said and he worked a gob full of saliva around his cock and then my arse.

    I braced myself for his long dick and groaned loudly as he worked the big fucker inside my arse.

    “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I said “That’s a big cock!”

    and he pushed the length of it into me balls deep.

    The feeling of a hot cock invading my tight arsehole had me gasping and gripping the toilet seat white knuckled. Andy’s cock was a big brute of a prick which he knew how to use.

    He began pulling his prick out to the knob and then slamming it back into my arsehole balls deep, an action he repeated again and again until I got used to the sheer size and thickness of his throbbing shaft.

    Gradually I began to open up for him and the fuck started to feel incredible. He was stroking my prostate with wild thrusts which had me moaning like crazy.

    Aware of the time and the imminent arrival of Martin I told Andy to fuck me faster and shoot his load.

    He grabbed my hips and rammed me deep and nasty grunting all the time and fucking towards his climax.

    My arsehole was quivering and tingling as he stretched me to the limit, his beautiful knob pleasuring the very depths of my arse.

    “I’m coming. Fuck! I’m coming he said and he unloaded a heavy load of spunk up my arse.

    I wondered what my wife would say if she could see me bent over the toilet taking a spurting hot cock up my arse but the thought quickly left me as Andy pulled his cum dripping cock from me.

    My own dick was jumping and my balls ached to cum too but Martin was due any minute and I wasn’t sure what he would say about the situation.

     

    I needn’t have worried myself really as Andy told Martin what had happened anyway.

    “So you got yourself fucked for the fist time I hear?” said Martin smirking. “Did you like it gay boy?”

    “I’m not gay!” I protested.

    “Well how about we finish work early today and we take Andy to the beach and shag him?” said Martin enthusiastically.

    “That sounds interesting” I replied “Do you think he will be up for that?”

    “He’s  up for anything mate. I mean when did you last fuck your wife?”

    I didn’t need to think too long.

    “About eight weeks ago and then she just lay there motionless and I had to cum in my own hands she didn’t want the mess”.

    “That’s fucking typical of women. They get a wedding ring on heir finger and then close the fucking pleasure port. Now with a man at least you know they want it as bad as you do”.

     

    Driving to the beach Andy was already pretty randy and was sucking on my cock within minutes.

    I had too stop him a number of times as I was so fucking close. Not that I wanted to as he was giving me an oral workout that had me in fucking paradise.

    At the beach we found our special private little cove, all stripped of and heading for the sea. The sea water was refreshing and after some time we wandered up the beach and settled down on a large

    towelling sheet Martin had acquired.

    Andy was keen too get sucking again and lay down whilst Martin and I fed his mouth with stiff cock.

    It was nice feeling my knob rubbing against Martin’s in the heat of Andy’s tongue lolling mouth, so nice that we both nearly shot our loads down Andy’s throat but the lad was pretty much in control of the situation and needed to be fucked.

    He paused the sucking.

    “If you both want to fuck me then you better get a move on as I got to get home as it’s my eldest lad’s birthday party. Who’s going to fuck this arse first?” he asked   adopting a position on the beach arse up and face down on the sand.

    He pulled his arse cheeks apart with his hands exposing his hairy hole and told us to get fucking.

    I was pretty gob smacked that Andy had a girlfriend as well as two kids but it seemed to me that most men liked a bit of cock.

    Martin mounted the lad and with a spit slobbered cock in his hand, fed the twitching arsehole with

    half of his stiff dick.

    Andy moaned and then wriggled his arse for the rest of Martin’s throbbing cock. Martin obliged with a  thrust that made me wince though Andy took the inches with a mere sigh.

    Martin really fucked Andy hard, gripping the lads hips and slamming his big cock home.

    I was so horny now and needed to fuck the lad as soon as Martin was finished.

    “Shoot your fucking load” said Andy “Hurry up I need cock number two”..

    Martin began to fuck and fuck the lad good and hard whilst I was once again feeding Andy’s hot mouth with my cum sensitive dick.

    A pretty wild grunt and Martin began to cream Andy’s guts as the lad groaned sensually.

    Martin pulled his dripping prick from Andy’s cum juicy hole and it was my turn to get fucking.

    “There mate, I’ve left you a lot of cum to lube your cock up so get stuck up him and fuck your balls off” said Martin wiping his dick with his hand.

    Andy’s arsehole was creamy white with dripping cum and the hole looked pretty inviting.

    I pushed my knob against the spunk and my dick just slid all the way up the lad on a river of cum.

    Thee feeling was fucking fantastic and I began to slide my cock back and forth in the slurry of spunk that creamed my cock.

    I got Andy groaning as I fucked balls deep into his hot gripping arsehole.

    “Fuck him good” said Martin watching us “Shoot that fucking load up his arse he loves it”.

    “Yeah!” said Andy ” Fuck me and fill my arsehole with cum. Fuck it good. Yeah! Like That! Fuck! Yeah! Right there. Fuck! You’re battering my fucking prostate to a pulp. I love it! Fuck ! love it!”

    His encouraging words had my bollocks churning my cream and I began to spurt deep inside Andy’s hot arse.

    I jerked about four times and my balls felt pretty damn drained and happy.

    Andy said he needed to go so the three of us got

    dressed and headed home.

     

    “Andy’s a real find” said Martin the next day. “He has an incredible arse and cock and a gay lust he can’t control”.

    “I was surprised that he’s kids” I said.

    “Got a fucking beautiful woman too, big tits and apparently he says she rims his arse and she swallows his spunk when she sucks him off. What’s more she’s quite happy that he has gay sex too and wants to see him get fucked.”.

    “You are kidding me right? I said.

    “Well” started Martin “He says she is up for a gang bang if we fancied shagging her and him together.”.

    “Blimey!” I said “Where do these guys find women like that ?”

    “So” said Martin “You and I have a t date next Friday so tell you misses you’re having a boys night

    out drinking”.

    “Fuck me! You’re serious” I said/

    Andy was just coming into our builders yard in his familiar overalls. I fancied him there was no doubt about that and he winked at me when he saw me watching him.

    “Is it all go for Friday?” he asked Martin “I hope so because Jane’s taking the kids to her mothers for the night so our bedroom will be free. and we can get down to some serious shagging”.

    I looked wide eyed at them both ad my cock began to throb heartily in my pants.

    “It’s O.K. mate” said Andy “You can get to fuck me before Friday too”.

     

    As it happens I didn’t get to fuck him due to a building job out of town so I was really looking forward to the sex session he and Martin had arranged with Andy’s randy wife.

    We’d been told to use the back door to Andy’s place which he aid would be open.

    Martin and I walked in and were a little surprised how nice and elegant his place was.

    “Come up lads” shouted Andy having heard us talking downstairs. “We’ve already started”.

    “Fucking Hell!” I thought “What randy fuckers they both must be”  my dick was already straining in my pants.

    Walking into the bedroom was a real eye opener.

    Andy and Jane were both stark naked. He was laying on his back with is legs over his head and his big titted woman had he face in his arse and was rimming the hell out of his hairy arsehole and was making the noise of a pig at a fucking trough..

    “Get stripped and join us guys. Jane’s cunt is wet and ready for you” aid Andy between moans of sheer ecstasy.

    Martin , quick to grasp any opportunity,  was out of his clothes and wanking his cock to maximum stiffness.

    I was pulling my trousers and pants off just as Martin was dipping his engorged knob into Jane’s

    fuck ready cunt.

    Jane paused briefly to let Martin drive ball deep and then she asked me to put my cock into Andy’s

    mouth.

    I knelt by Andy’s head and slid my shaft along his lips as Jane shoved her tongue back up his arse.

    The scene was unreal and a change of position had

    Martin shafting Jane on her back whilst she put her lips around my cock.

    I was leaning over her, my dick down her throat which she took without gagging and Andy was now rubbing his hot helmet against my sphincter.

    My arsehole opened up for the big stiff cock and Andy began to fuck my lights out.

    Martin was rolling Jane’s big tits in his hands as he fucked her and I managed to rub her clit as he shagged moans out of her.

    My arsehole was on fire with Andy’s  prick relentlessly fucking me, his balls heavy and slapping my arse with every thrust.

    My own balls were ready to pop but I didn’t want to cum too quick without fucking Jane’s hot twat.

    “I want to see Andy get fucked” said Jane having pulled my dick from her throat. Martin was glad to oblige and pulled from Jane’s quivering cunt to slam his cock up Andy.

    With Jane’s cunt yearning more cock I  got between her legs and shoved my pulsating prick into her till my balls were slammed against her arse.

    Jane was moaning as I fucked her and she complimented me on my shagging and the way I used my cock.

    “Fuck him” shouted Jane to Martin “Stick your big cock up his arse and fuck the hell out of him like he does me”.

    Martin was well stuck into Andy’s hot arsehole making him whimper with pleasure. A I watched Martin’s cock shunt back and forth and Andy’s hole grip it my own cock was being hotly gripped by Jane’s ravenous cunt and stirring the cum in my balls.

    None of us wanted to pop too soon and it was evident that Jane was wanting more cock for herself.

    A change of positions and Martin was pushing his dick into Jane’s tight arsehole as I continued fucking her cunt. I could feel Martin’s dick rubbing against mine , a membrane between us as we fucked Jane. Meanwhile Andy was lathering his prick with loads of spit and was looking for a hole to shag.

    Lucky me! I felt Andy’s knob rubbing up my crack and paused fucking Jane so that he could slam his prick up my arse.

    Slam it he did and I yelped like a stuck pig as he began to shaft me hard.

    What a session it was turning out to be with all of us now wanting to see some spunk flying.

    Andy’s lovely big cock felt so good deep up my arse his huge knob end butting my prostate, his balls slapping against me.

    Jane was writhing about the bed now, with two cocks fucking her cunt and arse it was no wonder.

    Boy did she like dick! Maybe I was liking dick just as much now and the thought of my frigid wife just made me lust cock even more.

    Jane began to moan her head off and her cunt was juicing as she came hard, her twat munching on my prick.

    I began to spunk too, my excitement just too much to control, my dick jerking against Martin’s as he kept fucking her arsehole.

    The jerk of my dick set Martin off and he pulled from Jane’s arse and shot a fucking load of cum that splattered us all.

    With Andy on long slow strokes in my arse he was at that trigger point and suddenly started to jack hammer my arsehole, holding my hips and causing the bed to shake as he shot his lot into me.

    He creamed my hole good and proper, his cum oozing from me and running down my thighs.

     

    Whilst the shower cubicle was very modern it could only comfortably fit two people at a time and I was lucky enough to be in the shower with Andy who was loving my soapy hands all over his chest as I stood behind him. I moved my hands down to feel his cock and soaped it well my own cock rubbing up his soapy arse crack.

    “Don’t fucking tease my hole” he said “Stick your fucking cock in it!”

    My dick was slimy with soap too and it slid happily up Andy’s hot arsehole as I continued to soap his stiffening cock.

    In the bedroom Jane and Martin were in a hot sixty nine with Martin’s tongue waggling wildly inside Jane’s hot cunt whilst she gobbled him and massaged his balls.

    Back to the shower and I was loving my slippery cock sliding up and down Andy’s arse. He bent right over for me and began to back onto my cock

    for maximum penetration all the while moaning as my knob delved deep.

    I had no control of my cum. I didn’t thin I’d be able

    to produce much more but fact is I shot an uncontrollable load of creamy jizz into Andy’s lovely arsehole.

    Panting and gasping with the shower water streaming over us both, Andy turned me around

    and stuffed his now rigid prick up my arse and began to fuck me as the last globs of cum slid from my cock.

    What a fucking he gave me, I could hardly walk back to the bedroom when he’d finished white washing my guts with his spunk.

    I flopped onto the bed next to Jane and Martin who were laying close together now. Jane had cum around her lips so I guessed they’d had a good time.

    They got up from the bed and made there way to the shower. Jane said she wanted to try something she’d never tried before when she got back so I waited with Andy for them to return to the bed.

    Andy flopped down beside me and we chatted some.

    “Where did you find such a sex driven wife like that?” I asked “My wife’s a frigid bitch”.

    “Yeah” said Andy “I’m lucky. “She just regards sex as an essential like fucking breathing and encourages me to try everything. Works fucking brilliantly. She can fuck with me ad women and so can I, we don’t get jealous we just enjoy sex and how it makes us both feel. If it feels good we do it”.

    “That’s a great philosophy to live by” I said “Only wish my wife thought like that”.

    “Well I think I know what Jane wants to try so let’s see if I’m right”.

     

    Jane and Martin returned from the shower room, their naked bodies looking wonderful.

    I can only imagine how Martin lathered up Jane’s tits and cunt in the shower and supposed that she had his cock pretty well wank lathered too.

    “So!” started Jane ” I want you three guys to fuck me at the same time. One up the arse and two in my

    cunt”.

    “I thought that was what you wanted” said Andy enthusiastically. “She’s so greedy for cock”.

    “How is that going to be possible?” I queried.

    I was about to find out and after a pause to re stock our spunk we were positioned..

    Martin lay on his back and with the slightly smaller

    cock was selected to stick his stiff dick up Jane’s arse as she lay her back on his torso.

    Andy and I lay on our sides each side of them holding up Jane’s legs.

    She was already moaning with Martin’s cock up her

    arse and began to moan even more as Andy and I

    pushed our cocks against her cunt.

    Martin had already told us that she had lubed her twat and arse well in the bathroom so getting into her was not that tough a job.

    Andy and I pushed deeper our cocks back to back our knobs running with pre cum.

    “Oh! Yes!” said Jane “That’s lovely, push those cocks into me and fuck me.

    Andy and I grabbed Jane’s tits and massaged them well whilst Martin’s fingers were rubbing her clit as we pushed into her fuck hungry cunt.

    “Oh! Oh! Yes! Fuck me guys, fuck me in the cunt and arse and make me moan”.

    Andy and I were well inside her now, our pricks rubbing against each other in the lubed heat of Jane’s hot cunt.

    The three of us began to fuck her as she wallowed in cock lust her only gripe being a lack of cock in her mouth.

    All of us were writhing and moaning as we fucked Jane to her own amazing climax.

    Her cunt just soaked our cocks in her orgasmic juices as she begged us to continue fucking her.

    I wanted to do that but as usual I couldn’t hold back my spunk and I began to jerk a load into Jane’s twat.

    My jerking cock sent Andy off too and the two of us were spurting cum into Jane our dicks aware of

    Martin’s cock moving against ours through the divider between cunt and arse.

    Our orgasms were incredible and our cum soon seeping from Jane’s twitching cunt as she lay gasping. We pulled our dripping cocks out just before Martin released his jizz.

    “I’m coming!” shouted Martin and he pulled from Jane’s arse and shot his load over her well fucked cunt

    “Not wasting that” said Andy and he dived between his wife’s legs and began to slurp Martin’s cum.

    Jane looked ecstatic as Andy licked and tongued Martin’s cum out of her cunt.

    The sight even had me jerking another glob of my own spunk that tempted me to try it.

    Probably the most surprising thing of the day was when Martin kissed me on my cum coated lips and slipped his tongue into my mouth.

    Fuck! He kissed so good, I was in love instantly.

     

    It was the best day of my life and I was assured that it would only get better.

  • First time bare

    Sam’s phone screen flashed bright green. Grindr. New message. “Yo, horny tonight? Your profile got me rock hard.” Sam, a lean twenty-two-year-old with messy brown hair always falling into his bright blue eyes, usually pretty chill and kinda bookish, felt a sudden jolt. He scrolled back to check the guy: Leo. Just like he remembered from the pic: a jawline that could cut steel, dark, intense eyes that felt like they were staring right through you, and a solid, muscular body that screamed pure power. Leo, probably pushing thirty, wasn’t just big; he was dense, all muscle, coiled up tight. “Hard as a rock,” Sam typed back, surprising himself with how fast he hit send. “Free?” The reply was almost instant: “Be there in ten. Address?”

    Twenty minutes later, the doorbell buzzed. Sam, usually cool as a cucumber, felt his heart doing a drum solo in his chest. He flung the door open. Leo stood there, even more massive than his photos, filling the whole damn frame with his broad shoulders and thick chest. His vibe was crazy magnetic, like a black hole Sam couldn’t escape. A slow, hungry grin spread across Leo’s face, making his dark eyes glitter. “Sam, right?” His voice was a low rumble, kinda rough, sending shivers right down Sam’s spine. “Leo,” Sam barely managed to breathe out, his voice a bit shaky, the desire between them already thick enough to chew on.

    No small talk needed. Their eyes just locked, a silent, intense understanding passing between them. Leo stepped inside, and the door clicked shut, cutting off the whole damn world. Sam, feeling a wild burst of daring, led him straight to the bedroom. The air was thick with tension, heavy with lust.

    Leo didn’t waste a second. He moved quick, pushing Sam against the wall. His lips slammed into Sam’s in a hungry, bruising kiss that tasted like pure, urgent need. Leo’s hands dove under Sam’s soft cotton t-shirt, his rough fingers exploring Sam’s slender waist, tracing his ribs, making Sam gasp into the kiss. Sam’s own hands, usually steady, were shaking as they grabbed Leo’s wide, muscular shoulders, feeling the hard muscle under his shirt.

    Clothes flew off. In a flash, they were naked, skin against skin, the friction already building up a serious heat. Leo pulled back an inch, his dark eyes devouring Sam’s body. His gaze swept over Sam’s pale, flushed skin, the delicate curve of his back, finally landing on the tempting, pink opening between his ass cheeks. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Leo growled, his voice thick with desire.

    Then, without a word, Leo’s hand found the back of Sam’s neck. He pressed down gently, but with no doubt about who was in charge. Sam got it. His knees buckled, his body lowering, his ass sticking out. He knelt there, right at Leo’s feet, a willing offering, exactly where he needed to be.

    Leo’s fingers parted Sam’s lips, just enough for Sam to see the head of Leo’s cock. It was thick, angry red, throbbing, just begging to be sucked. Leo didn’t ask. He guided it gently towards Sam’s mouth, and Sam opened wide. He opened it wide, a deep, primal instinct taking over, ’cause he knew what was coming.

    Leo let Sam lick the head first, letting Sam’s hot, wet tongue explore the tight skin. Sam tasted him, smelled him, and it drove him absolutely fucking wild. Then Leo pushed it in deeper, making Sam take the head, just the head. Sam sucked, licked, circled his tongue around the shaft, tracing the underside, the rim. Leo watched him, eyes locked on Sam’s, making sure Sam knew he was there for Leo’s pleasure.

    And then, when Leo couldn’t take the delicious torture anymore, when he felt Sam’s throat clench with building desire, he pushed. He cupped Sam’s head firmly in his big hand and plunged it. Deep. So deep. Until Sam had his whole cock down his throat, feeling Leo’s heavy balls smack against his chin. Sam gagged a little, then adjusted, loving the feeling of fullness, of Leo’s cock filling him all the way down.

    Leo made Sam feel his cock pulse, swell in his mouth. He made Sam suck, pump, work. And when he saw Sam’s eyes tearing up, when he heard Sam’s muffled moans of effort, he knew Sam was totally under his thumb. He set the pace, whispering orders for Sam to go faster, pump harder, squeeze tighter with his throat.

    Sam felt the cum rising, felt Leo’s cock swell even more, vibrating right before the explosion. And when Leo came, Sam felt his hot, thick cum pour down his throat, which he swallowed. Every single drop. ‘Cause he was there for Leo, to take everything Leo had.

    Sam pulled his head up, mouth full, eyes glazed over with pleasure and exhaustion. He licked his lips clean, savoring the taste.

    “Good boy,” Leo rasped, his voice still thick with satisfaction. He pulled Sam up by the arm, drawing him close. “Now, get on your knees, ass up.”

    Sam obeyed without a word, his body still buzzing from what he’d just swallowed. He knelt on the bed, ass high in the air, his hole exposed and screaming for it. Leo got behind him, his hot breath on Sam’s neck. Sam felt Leo’s cock, still wet and glistening from his mouth, press against his opening. Leo had a condom in his hand. He unrolled it, quick, practiced, then pushed in.

    Sam gasped, feeling Leo enter him, slow at first, then deeper, filling him up. The rubber felt… okay, but Sam felt that primal urge for more. He’d used condoms every time, always. It was safe, it was smart. But deep down, he’d always wondered what raw felt like. This was the most intense he’d ever been. Leo started thrusting, hard and fast, his heavy balls smacking against Sam’s ass with every powerful stroke. Sam arched his back, taking every inch.

    Then, Leo suddenly stopped, his cock still buried deep inside Sam. “Fuck, Sam…” Leo’s voice was rough, a low, desperate plea. “I… I wanna feel you. All of you. Without this. Can I… can I pull this off and just fill you? Bare?”

    A shiver, hot and electric, shot through Sam’s whole body. Bare? The word echoed in his mind. It was a line he’d never crossed, a boundary he’d always kept. But the thought of Leo inside him, raw, filling him without anything in between… It was a brutal, dangerous fantasy, a huge step, but so damn hot, so all-consuming. He turned his head a bit, meeting Leo’s intense gaze. The desire in Leo’s eyes was pure, raw, unmasked, and Sam saw his own desperate, brand-new need mirrored there. He swallowed hard.

    “Yes,” Sam whispered, his voice barely there, raw with longing, a hint of nervous excitement. “Yes, please. Fill me up. Bare.”

    Leo didn’t even blink. He pulled out smooth, ripped off the condom, and tossed it. His cock, gleaming and throbbing, looked even bigger now, ready to deliver. Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, a frantic drum. This was it.

    Leo got back in position, bare now. He put the head of his cock against Sam’s opening and pushed. Sam’s hole welcomed him with a new, incredible intensity. The contact was raw, scorching, totally unfiltered. Sam moaned, a deep, animal sound escaping his throat. Leo plunged in, slow at first, then with a powerful, hungry thrust, his bare cock tearing into him and filling him completely.

    “Oh, fuck!” Sam screamed, arching his back hard, his body convulsing. The feeling was a thousand times more intense, more real, more everything. It was different. So much different. He could feel every ridge, every pulse. Leo started thrusting, each stroke vibrating through Sam’s whole body. The loud smack of Leo’s balls against his ass was louder, more real, more there. Sam felt every single inch of Leo inside him, the friction of bare skin, the deep, gut-wrenching heat.

    “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” Leo panted, his voice changed by effort and pure, raw pleasure. “I’m gonna give you everything. Hold on tight.”

    Sam felt overwhelmed, totally flooded. The pleasure was so intense it almost hurt. He felt possessed, completely taken by Leo’s raw, dominant power. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the pure feeling of that bare cock pounding into him, stretching him, getting him ready for the flood.

    Leo sped up, his thrusts turning into a frenzied rhythm. Sam felt the pressure build, pleasure piling up in wave after wave, building to a crazy peak. He cried out, convulsed hard, and his body emptied in a crushing, all-consuming orgasm.

    At the exact same moment, Leo groaned, a deep, guttural sound that shook his whole body. He plunged one last time, emptying himself completely, his hot, thick cum pouring deep inside Sam, filling him to the brim. Sam felt the warm liquid gush inside him, a sensation entirely new, shocking, and profoundly intimate. The heavy weight of Leo on his back, his heart pounding like crazy.

    Leo pulled out slowly, his cock sliding free. Sam felt the warm cum trickle down his inner thigh, a tangible, sticky proof of what just went down, a physical mark of their raw connection. He was filled, overflowing, and he had never, ever felt anything like it. Leo crashed next to him on the bed, panting, their sweaty bodies stuck to each other, skin slick and red.

    Sam rolled over, snuggling into Leo’s side, still breathless. He felt Leo’s radiating heat, the intoxicating smell of their mingled sex. “Thanks,” Sam whispered, his voice broken, raw with feeling and totally wiped out. Leo held him tight, kissing his hair, chin resting on Sam’s head. “This is just the beginning,” Leo mumbled back, a deep, satisfied grin on his face.

  • Mr. Singh

    [Reader:  If you are sexually active, please use healthy precautions, be regular about medical check-ups, and only act with consent.  Actions in this fantasy story do not carry consequences like they do in real life.]

    [ [email protected] ]


    Kidnapped

    I am John Higgins, regional director in Asia for my Canadian company’s various interests there.  My suspicions and then investigation have established that a supplier, one Mr. Singh, in India, has been playing lose with his charges to my company.  Over a period of time, we have been defrauded of a very large amount of money.  I am in the conference room into which I have been shown waiting to see him.

    “Ah, Mr. Singh.  I hope you are well.”

    “Yes.  Yes, I am, Mr. Higgins.  And you?”

    “The same, thank you.”

    “Where are you staying here in the city?”

    “I am at the Trident.”

    “To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit from you?  Were you already in the country and decided to stop to see me?”

    “No.  Not exactly, Mr. Singh.  I came to see you.  May I come straight to the point?”

    “Yes.  Please do.  That sounds ominous, though, I must say.”

    “I am afraid that it is.  My investigation has discovered your misrepresentations to the company regarding the supplies that you send us and the corners that you are cutting.  The home office has indicated that I should inform you that your contract will not be renewed when it ends in two months.”

    “This is preposterous!  I have not been – as you put it – cutting any corners.  I am insulted at that suggestion!”

    “It is not a suggestion, Mr. Singh.  It is a fact.  They are my findings.  I have delivered the decision to you.  It is not negotiable.  I will not belabor the point, nor will I waste your time.  I have other business in the city before I return to my hotel.”


    After John leaves, Mr. Singh picks up his phone and makes a call.


    Having stopped to see another supplier in the city to invite him to increase his business with my company, I am arriving back at my hotel.  I’m very tired and ready for a good night’s sleep before I leave for Viet Nam in the morning.  I am looking forward to that soft bed awaiting me.

    “Wha . . . what?  Who . . . ?  Arghh . . . .”  Someone’s in my room!  I’m being attacked.  There’s a rag being held over my mouth.  I’m . . . I’m . . . feeling dizzy . . . I feel myself falling . . . .

    Where am I?  I feel nauseous. My chest hurts.  What happened?  I open my eyes and see a high ceiling.  I see bars above me . . . and all around me!  What . . . what’s happened?  How did I get here?  Where IS “here”?

    Pulling myself up onto one elbow, I see that I am in a cage-like space with bars like those on a prison cell all around me as well as across the top.  I hear noises from outside – street noises.  Truck engines, horns – city sounds.  Just below the high ceiling there are open windows.  They must be a good 20 feet up.  It’s hot.  I realize that I am sweating . . . and that I am naked!

    About ten feet away, I see another cell.  There’s a man in it.  He is either sleeping or out cold like I was.  Maybe he’s even dead!  He’s naked, too.  I call to him loudly, “Hey.  Hey.  You.  Are you all right?  Wake up!”

    He’s moving.  At least he’s not dead.  He rolls over from being on his side looking the other way so that he’s facing me.

    “Hey,” he says, “I’m Rodney, Rodney Jacobs.  How are you feeling?  They brought you in here late last night.  You were out like a light.”

    “I’m John.  I’m feeling bad, really bad.  Where are we?  What the fuck is going on?”  

    “I can’t say where we are.  I don’t know.  I’ve been here a week.  I got mugged on a street and woke up in here . . . naked, like you.”

    “So, what have they said to you?  What do they want?”

    “They’ve only told me to eat the food and drink the water they bring, and to shit and piss in the hole in the corner of the cell.  Did you get mugged, too?”

    “Not exactly . . . at least not on a street.  Someone was waiting in my hotel room.  I guess I was chloroformed or something.  I got hit hard, too, in my chest.”  

    “Well, maybe they’ll say something to you when they come with breakfast.  That’ll be rice and curry.  Same for middle of the afternoon . . . the only other time food comes.”

    “This is crazy.  Why would someone bother to kidnap me?  Ransom, maybe?”

    “Maybe.  I’m a contractor for a South African firm.  We do IT surveillance.  Suppose they’d pay something to get me back.”

    I’ve noticed that while we’ve been talking Rodney’s been playing with his cock.  I don’t normally look long at men’s crotches in locker rooms or anything, but here he is basically masturbating right in front of me.  I can’t help but notice that he’s got a big one.

    Five days.  Still no one has told either Rod or me why we’re here, what they want.  I’ve gotten his life story and he’s heard mine.  He wondered if Mr. Singh might have had anything to do with my getting jumped in my hotel room.  It’s a good theory . . . sure as hell Singh would have it in for me.  With nothing to do – and seeing Rod always fondling his dick and balls – it’s rubbed off on me.  I wasn’t even thinking about till I realized a few days ago that I was doing like him.  Guess it’s better than just doing nothing.

    A guy who wears just a loincloth is bringing food and more water now like he does twice every day.  Like Rod told me the first day, all the meals are the same – rice and curry.  

    Wait.  There’s another man with him.  First time we’ve seen anyone else.  This guy’s wearing a dhoti and got sandals on.  Naked from the waist up.  Kind of skinny and looks to be about in his forties.  Has a leather strip around his neck with some sort of a gem stone bauble on it.  

    He says to us, “You are here to learn a new life.  I am to be your teacher.”

    “Wait just a second,” I tell him.  “I’m not interested in any new life . . . and I’ve got a hell of a lotta questions!  Who kidnapped me?  And, why?  Where is this place anyway.”

    Rod’s joining in, “He’s right.  You owe us explanations.  Who mugged me?  Whaddya want from me?  Ransom?”

    The Indian is smiling at us.  “Ransom?  No.  As I said, I am your teacher.”

    “Teacher?” I shout to him.  “I don’t need – don’t want – any ‘teacher’.  What I need is outta whatever this place is . . . NOW!”

    “This is your training center.  It is where you will learn a new life.”

    “What are you . . . some kind of religious zealot who thinks you’ll make us ‘followers’, or something?  You’re looking in the wrong place.”

    Rod loudly adds, “Just get us the hell outta here, Mr. What-ever-your-name-is!”

    “You may call me Anil.  I am not a man of religion.  I am your teacher.”

    Rod again, “Bloody hell lotta information that gives us.  Just get us our clothes and show us the door, Buddy . . . or Anil . . . or whatever!”

    He’s lifting the leather cord from his neck over his head and starting to finger the stone attached to it.  As he lets it slip from his hand, he just holds onto the cord.  He is continuing to smile, and he’s staring at us . . . first into my eyes and then Rod’s . . . slowly moving his gaze back and forth between us.  He doesn’t blink.  He’s swinging the cord so that the bauble keeps moving.

    I want to shout demands at him again, but I can’t.  I can think clearly what I want to say.  I just can’t do it.  It’s like the words won’t come.  I want to look at Rod to see if he’s going to say more.  I can’t do that, either.  I can only look at the guy’s eyes.

    He’s bringing the gem stone higher up now.  He’s got it at eye level.  It’s just moving round and round in a small circle, slowly, not changing speed.  I want to look away.  I can’t.  I’m just watching it.

    He’s saying something.  “Relax.  Sit down.”  Rod and me both do it.  He says, “No.  You will not sit like that anymore.”  We’re just sitting of the cement floor on our butts.  “You must squat like most of the world does.  You will learn.”

    He turns to the man in the loin cloth and tells him to sit.  He goes down on his haunches, his feet flat on the ground, his knees nearly even with his shoulders.  It’s the same as I’ve seen street sellers and all kinds of people do in Asia.  Westerners just don’t do it.  Even though I don’t want to try it, it seems like I have to.

    “You will continue to practice this until I see you tomorrow.  While you squat, you will handle your penises . . . as you have been doing.  You will watch each other.  If the other one stops, you will remind him of my command.”

    How’d he know we’d been masturbating?  Cameras?

    Anil turns and leaves.  The loin cloth guy slides the plates with our food on them through the space in the bars near the floor made for that purpose, and some more water.

    I can move again.  I stand up and go to get my food.  Without thinking, I try to squat back down on my haunches to eat it.  I don’t want to be doing this.  But, I am.  

    Rod’s the same as me.  He says, “Why the hell we doin’ this?  I’m not some peasant.”

    I’m eating with my right hand.  I’m fondling my penis with the left.  It feels good.  Rod’s doing just like me.

    Next morning, now.  After the first rice and curry meal for the day, Anil has come back.   He’s bolting the iron bars in front of the door to the hall. The loin cloth guy’s never done that.  Anil’s just the same as he was yesterday – strange.  Still got that stone with him.  Still playing with it or swinging it around.

    Rod and me are squatting on our haunches and playing with our dicks.  It just seems natural.

    Anil tells us, “You have new names from today forward.  I do not know by what names you have been known in the past.  That does not matter.  In your future lives you will be known as (he looks at me) ‘Chubhan’, and (to Rod) ‘Aadamee Yonee’.  That is too long though, so it will just be ‘Yonee’.

    “In English the Hindi, ‘chubhan’ means ‘prick’.  And, ‘aadamee yonee’ means ‘mancunt’ – or the shorter form, simply ‘cunt’.”

    Rodney protests, “You’re gonna call me ‘Cunt’?!”

    “Thus will you be called by all who bother to refer to you by any name at all.”

    I say, “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.  Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

    The names are making me begin to suspect an answer to my question, though.

    Anil asks us, “Have either of you ever had your cock sucked?”

    We each tell him yes.  “By a man?”, he asks.

    “Hell no!” we both respond together.

    “That is unfortunate.  It is better when a man does it.  Have you ever sucked a man’s cock?’

    Another “Hell no” from each of us.

    “That, too, is unfortunate.  Since you have had it done to you at all, though, you know what is expected.”  

    Anil hands a key to the loin cloth guy and tells him, “Open the cage doors.   Do not worry.  They might want to attack you, but they will not.”

    He does it.  My anger definitely wants to grab them both and overpower them.  I know Rod must want to do the same thing.  I just can’t.  I can only stay here, down on my haunches.

    “Yonee – stand.” 

    Rodney stands up.  “Chubhan – go and kneel in front of Yonee.”

    I’m not about to kneel in front of a naked man’s exposed cock.  But . . . I am moving to follow Anil’s direction.  What the fuck!

    “Look at what you are seeing.  Look at Yonee’s member, half-hard in front of your face.”

    Rodney is protesting, “Get the fuck away from me, John!”

    I want to tell him that I don’t want to do this . . . but, the words won’t come.  I’m just kneeling here in front of him while his cock is getting bigger, harder.

    Anil again, “Take Yonee’s penis in your hands.  It is large.  Larger than yours.  Fondle it.  Bring it to its full size.”

    I’m fuckin’ doing what Anil is telling me to.  Rodney is shouting at me not to.  He’s not moving away, though.  Maybe he can’t.  Maybe he’s like me, not able to help himself.  I’m playing with his thick shaft . . . and I feel myself hardening up, too.  Oh no . . . nah . . . not because of another man!

    “Now, Chubhan – lick the tip of that hard penis.  Run your tongue all round it.  Taste what is beginning to come from it.”

    I’m doing it.  My left hand drops for a second to my own cock.  It’s as hard as I was afraid it was.  Oh, noo!  It’s full out hard, pointing straight ahead.  Damn.  I put both hands back on Rodney’s thick cock.  My mouth starts moving further onto it.  Why?  Why am I volunteering to do more than Anil has demanded?

    “That is very good for a novice, Chubhan.  Be more aggressive.  Move your head back and forth, further forward each time.  Close your lips tight around Yonee’s cock.  Do not come all the way off when you are moving your head back.”

    Rodney is groaning.  It sounds like he’s having sex with a woman.  All of a sudden I feel his hands on the back of my head.  He is pulling my head forward on his cock each time I start down on it.  He’s enjoying this!

    I want to stop, but I can’t.  My body is enjoying this just like Rodney’s is.  I’m groaning around his hard cock.

    Anil says, “Chubhan – look up into Yonee’s eyes.  What do you see?  You want to see that you are pleasuring him.  Does he look like that to you?”

    I look up.  He is looking down at me.  His eyes look afraid . . . but his face is smiling!  And, he keeps up the moans.  His pelvis is starting to buck lightly.  I keep it up . . . because I can’t stop even though I want to.  My body doesn’t seem to want it to stop.  I realize my left hand has gone back to my own dick.  It’s slick with my own pre-cum.  I’m fist stroking it hard.

    After I don’t know how long, I sense that Rodney’s going to cum.  He’s nearly fucking my face!  Yes – he’s shooting right into my mouth.  Some of it got swallowed.  Most of it’s dripping out of the sides of my mouth, down onto my chest.  This is SICK.

    After he’s finished, I come off of his cock.

    Anil orders, “Yonee, take your fingers and collect your cum from Chubhan’s face.  Leave what is on his body there.  Lick them clean.”

    Rodney’s finally found his voice, “I ain’t a cum eater.”

    “You are one, beginning now, Yonee.”  He looks like he’s fighting it . . . but he’s doing it.

    “Now kneel down on your hands and knees, Yonee.  Chubhan, kneel behind him.  Your cock is already hard, but make it harder.  It is dripping.  Use that and his cum on your chest on your fingers.  Then slide them into his asshole.  First one, then two.  Stretch it so that it will receive your member.  Have you ever fucked a mam’s arshole before, Chubhan?”

    “No way.  Why would I, you bastard.  How are you making us do these things?”

    Anil is smiling.  “Your insolence is amusing.  It will pass.  I think that you may be forming an idea of what your new lives will be, no?”

    Rodney turns his head round from his kneeling position and looks at me behind his ass.  He is looking pleadingly at me.  He can’t seem to say anything, but his eyes are saying, “Don’t do this!”

    I’m producing a lot of pre-cum now.  I use it and some of what’s left of Rod’s cum to slick the fingers of my right hand, and I insert my finger into his hole.  He winces.  I move it around.  After a minute of one finger, I put in two.  I’ve never done this before.  How is it that I know what I’m doing?  It’s like I’m on auto-pilot. I’m stretching his hole.  I just know I need to make it ready for my cock.

    He’s open enough, now.  I take my cock and pump it up some more with my pre-cum and more of what’s left of Rod’s cum on my body to lubricate it.  I’m placing it at his hole and I start moving my hard cock into him.

    Anil says, “Chubhan – go in slowly.  Go in a bit, then come out.  Then, go back in further. Keep that up until you are going all the way in and coming almost all the way out.”  I’m doing what he said to.  I want to stop.  I can’t.  It feels great, really great.

    Rodney was yelling out with pain when I started.  Now, he’s back to moaning . . .. even more than he was when I was sucking his hard cock.  He’s even beginning to back up into my thrusts into him.  Don’t know why, but I’m moving in and out of him faster now – harder.  He’s shouting, “Ohh Yeahhh, Ohh, Ohhh!”  Finally, I shoot.  My cum’s inside him.  I’ve never done this.  I feel embarrassed.  I feel fine.  I want to keep shooting.  Once all my cum’s shot, and a lot of it is leaking back out of his asshole and slicking my cock, I pull out.  I’m still rock hard.

    Anil says, “Chubhan, stand up.  Yonee – kneel up and clean Chubhan’s cock of his cum and your juices with your tongue.”

    I’m revolted.  That’s terrible.  He’s not gonna do that!  But, even though he looks just as disgusted about it as I feel, he IS doing it!  He’s cleaning my cock!

    Anil has been squatting in the way he wants us to do and watching this whole time.  Now he’s on his feet.  He tells us, “When I speak to the two of you together, I will call you ‘ladakon’ instead of the English word ‘boys’.  You will be learning a number of new words.  So, ladakon – tonight and tomorrow I am telling you to spend your time doing as you have just done to one another.

    “The doors of your cages will be left open . . . but the bars in front of the door to the hall will be bolted.”

    “No way,” I tell him.  I don’t know how you made us do this, but I’m not doing more of it on my own.”

    Rodney is stronger, again having found his voice, “You fuckin’ fairy bastard – you’re not gonna control me!  I’m gonna figure this out.  This AIN’T gonna be any ‘new life’, like you call it, for me.  You wait and see.”

    Anil is standing quietly and smiling.  “I think that you will not be able to keep yourselves from exploring each other’s bodies from now on.”

    As he leaves, he bolts the bars in front of the hall door.

    He’s been gone a while.  I’m looking at Rod sitting in his cage down on his haunches just like I am in mine.  Our dicks are semi-hard.  We’ve both been fondling them.

    I don’t know what’s happening . . . but, I’m standing up and walking out of my cage and headed toward his.  Toward his body.  I’m hungry for him.  He looks at me coming.  He says, “What the hell you doing?  Stay away . . . stay away . . . stay . . . .”  But, he’s moving up on his knees.  He’s licking his lips.  He wants my cock.  I know it.  I’m getting harder.

    As I stand in front of him, he’s looking at my full out cock.  He’s drooling.  I’m not saying anything.  I’m just standing here.  He looks up into my eyes.  He’s taking hold of me and moving his hands on my shaft.  He leans in and kisses my slit!  Damn!  I feel like an electric shock just ran through me!

    “Yea, Rodney!  Suck me.  Suck me good . . . like I did you!”

    He does.  He’s starting slow.  Speeding up.  He’s got a pretty fast pace.  He’s all over my cock.  His drool’s got it soaked.  He comes off every few attacks and licks all round my glans.  I’m going crazy.  No woman’s ever made me feel like this suckin’ my cock!  Anil was right!

    I’m saying, “Rod, keep it up!  Don’t slow down!  You’re great!  Yeahh!  Yeahh!”

    He’s looking up at me, groaning around my hard cock.  I can’t see my face, but I’m sure I’m smiling down at him.  He does keep it up, O.K., just like I told him.  Don’t know how long.  Finally, I’m cumming.  Like with me when he cummed, it’s coming outta the sides of his mouth, mixed with his drool.  Once I’ve finished, he does what Anil had him do before.  He cleans my cock with his tongue.  He’s smiling now, along with me.

    As he stands up, I go down on all fours.  Why?  I don’t want to do this.  But, something is making me.  I go down on my elbows and stick my ass up high.  He’s kneeling down, scooping off my cum that dripped from his mouth to his chest.  He’s fingering me just like I did him.  That hurts.  Don’t like it.  He keeps doing it.  It’s feeling better now . . . maybe not all that bad.  Ouuu.  He touched something.  My cock jumped!  

    I tell him, “Rod, do that again.  That felt fine.”  He moves his finger back and massages back and forth.  Damn!  Now he’s got two fingers in me.  He’s separating them.  He’s doing my hole like I did his.  How do we even know what we’re doing?  This makes no sense . . . but it feels so good.  Really, really good.

    I look back at him.  He’s pointing his hard dick at my ass.  I know what’s coming.  Is it gonna hurt?  Yeahh . . . it hurts, all right.  “Awww, nah, nah!”  He keeps up, going in further each time.  Umm, it’s not so bad as it was.  Umm, ummm . . . not so bad at all.  It’s getting kinda . . . kinda good.  “Yeahh, Rod.  Shove your big dick in me.  Rub that spot!   Ohhh, ohhh, dooo it, dooo me.”  He keeps fucking me and thrusting harder and harder.  It still kinda hurts . . . but it feels so good at the same time.  I hear him moaning along with me.  Now he’s starting to more of a shouting.

    Rod’s crying out, “I’m cumming!  I’m cumming.  Mmmmm.  Mmmmmm.  Here it COMES!  Yeahhh!”  And, he does!  I feel his super hard cock inside of me.  I feel his pumping.  I feel his cum leaking back outta my hole and down my thighs.

    He pulls out.  I go flat on my stomach on the floor.  I’m all sweaty.  Rod’s lying on his back about two feet away.  Neither of us is looking at the other.  I’m embarrassed.  Super embarrassed.  Maybe it’s the same for him.

    I don’t know how long we’ve been lying here . . . but I’m crawling over to him. I’ve got his cock in my hand and starting to play with it.  He’s groaning.  He isn’t stopping me.  I start licking it clean.  Now, I’m putting my lips over its tip and beginning to take it all into my mouth.  Right away he’s harder.  Can feel him filling my mouth.  Don’t understand why I’m doing this.

    We’ve been sucking each other and fucking each other until we we’re so exhausted that we have just knocked out on the floor of his cage.  We must have been at it for hours.

    For the last several days, it’s been the same.  Anil hasn’t come back – only the loin cloth guy.  Rod and I just keep at it with each other.  It’s like Anil said it would be.  We can’t pay enough attention to each other’s bodies.  We lick each other’s arm pits, nibble each other’s nipples, French kiss.  We even lick each other’s holes! 

    I’ve never done more than take a few glances at another man’s body in a locker room.  Never touched one.  Rod told me it was the same with him.  But, now – now, Rod’s body is something I can’t get enough of.  The same for him about mine.

    To Be Continued . . . .


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


  • The Naked Machine

    “Random”

    [Quarterback]

    They told us to report to the gym after last period. No explanation. Just a clipboard name-check and “Bring your ID.”

    I thought maybe it was about the bus schedule or jerseys. Until I walked in and saw the folding table. The little plastic cups. The scale.

    And Coach Mercer in his windbreaker, arms crossed like this wasn’t the first time he’d watched boys get processed.

    “You’re here for screening,” the man at the table said. He wasn’t school staff. Just some guy—button-down shirt, no tie, clipboard. He didn’t look up when he said it.

    “What kind of screening?”

    “Drug, weight, general health. Standard.”

    That word—standard—made it sound like breakfast.

    There were five of us. All varsity. None of us said anything.

    He called my name first.

    “ID?”

    I handed it over.

    “Shoes and shirt off.”

    That part I expected. I’d been through regular physicals before. But this one was in the open, right there in the locker vestibule, not even behind the partitions. Just me, the guy with the clipboard, and Coach off to the side chewing gum like it bored him.

    Then the man said: “Pants and underwear, too.”

    “What?”

    “Full check. Strip. You’ll get dressed in a moment.”

    I looked at Coach. He just gave a little nod. Like: Don’t make this a thing.

    So I did it. Pants first, then briefs. Folded them. Stood there on the cold linoleum with my arms stiff at my sides. The guy never looked me in the eye. Just started writing.

    “Height. Weight. No visible bruising or injuries. Circumcised. No tattoos.”

    He said it like he was filling out a form on a car. Not a person.

    “Turn. Cough.”

    I turned. I coughed.

    The man handed me a plastic cup and nodded toward the far door.

    “Bathroom. Don’t flush. Bring it right back.”

    So I walked across the open gym, still naked, holding the cup. I didn’t look back.

    “Waiting”

    [Running back]

    You could hear the cough.

    That was the worst part. Not the clothes hitting the floor. Not the way Coach Mercer stood off to the side like a bored security guard. Not even the sight of Kenny walking across the gym holding a little plastic cup, naked but pretending not to be.

    It was the sound of him coughing—on command—that made something tighten in my chest.

    I sat on the bench next to Jamal and Finn. No one talked. You could feel the silence doing all the work.

    We’d all been called here during last period. “Mandatory screening,” they said. “Standard protocol.” But this wasn’t standard. This wasn’t like the nurse’s office, with a privacy curtain and a blood pressure cuff that smelled like antiseptic.

    This was a table. A man with a clipboard. A paper form and a line of boys waiting to take off their clothes in front of two men who never took off theirs.

    Jamal leaned forward, elbows on knees. I could see the muscles in his jaw clench and relax, like he was chewing on a thought he didn’t want to swallow.

    Coach hadn’t said much, just stood there watching Kenny undress. Like he’d seen this a hundred times. Maybe he had. Maybe this was part of the job—the paperwork, the inspection, the quiet humiliation.

    Kenny came back holding the cup. Still naked. Didn’t say a word. Just handed it to the man at the table, who took it like it was a receipt and pointed to the bench with a nod.

    He sat down across from us. Still not dressed.

    That’s when I realized we weren’t getting to put our clothes back on right away. That we had to wait—bare—until all of us were done.

    “Next,” the man said.

    He didn’t look up. Just scratched something on the clipboard like the last body hadn’t meant a thing. Like we were all a list he was working his way through.

    Jamal stood.

    I kept my eyes on the floor.

    My name would be next.

    And I’d already started sweating.

    “Standard Procedure”

    [Running back]

    I already knew how it felt to be stripped of control.

    That had happened six months ago. Trailhead bathroom, middle of the day. Some man who wasn’t right in the head. I’d never seen him before and I never saw him after. He mumbled something about God. About purity. I don’t remember all of it. I remember the lock on the door didn’t work. I remember the sound of my own voice going silent halfway through.

    Afterward, I walked back to the road like nothing had happened. I never told anyone. Not because I was afraid they wouldn’t believe me—because I was afraid they would.

    So when they told us to report to the gym for “random screening,” I didn’t think it would matter. I’d already survived worse.

    But this was different.

    There were clipboards. Folding chairs. Two men I’d never seen before in tucked-in shirts and laminated badges. Coach stood nearby, silent. Not looking at us, not looking away. Just there.

    They called our names like it was roll call.

    “ID?”

    “Shoes, shirt. Pants. Underwear.”

    Nothing in their voices. Just flat air.

    When I undressed, I felt something in me detach, like I was floating above the scene. Watching. Not to protect myself. Just to get through it.

    “Turn. Cough.”

    The man said it like he was asking me to pass the salt.

    He never looked at my face. I looked at his. Not because I wanted to, but because it felt like the only way to exist—as a set of eyes in a body that was no longer mine.

    When it had happened in the woods, at least I was alone. At least it was one person’s madness, not a whole room’s design. That had been brutal. But this was tidy. Sanitized. Documented.

    And somehow, that made it worse.

    Because here, no one was breaking the rules.
    The rules were the violation.

    I handed back the cup without a word.

    The clipboard man nodded like he was approving a receipt.

    I sat on the bench. Naked. Breathing. Trying to fold my shame into the space between heartbeats.

    They called the next name.

    The boy beside me stood. Peeled his shirt over his head like it was normal. Like this was just part of school spirit. Like what was happening wasn’t a machine designed to strip you down until all that was left was compliance.

    And it worked.

    I did everything they asked.

    And they never laid a hand on me.

    And it still felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me.


    “Compliance”

    [Clune]

    It was policy. Not personal. Not punishment.
    One kid gets caught juicing—or someone makes noise about it in a parents’ meeting—and boom, the whole machine kicks in.

    They send us a notice from central admin. Random screening. Varsity athletes only. Process must be uniform. No exceptions.

    So I set up in the gym with the portable table and the kits. Got through the first five kids without issue. I had it down to twelve minutes per student. Fifteen, tops, if someone got squeamish.

    I had a dentist appointment at five.

    [Running back]

    I knew how this would go the second they handed out slips at lunch.

    Mandatory screening.
    Drug panel. Weight check. Hydration. Physical.

    They didn’t say strip in front of strangers, but they never had to.

    I lined up behind lockers with the rest of the team. Nobody talked. The air buzzed with something we weren’t allowed to name.

    This wasn’t punishment. This was procedure. That was supposed to make it better.

    It didn’t.

    [Clune]

    Kid number six walked up. Quiet. No attitude. That was good—things move faster that way.

    “Name?”
    He gave it.

    “ID?”

    He handed it over.

    “Shoes and shirt. Then pants and underwear.”

    He hesitated. Not unusual. Happens about one in four.
    The trick is to keep moving. Not get drawn into it.
    He stripped down. I noted his build. Thin. Bit pale.

    “Turn. Arms out.”

    No eye contact. Which, frankly, made it easier.

    [Running back]

    I did what he said.

    Not because I trusted him. Not because I believed in the test.
    Because I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t.

    I was naked. He wasn’t. No one was.

    Just me, alone in fluorescent light, trying not to shake.

    The last time I’d been naked like this, it hadn’t been under orders.

    But this felt worse.

    Because everyone here thought it was normal.

    [Clune]

    “Bend. Cough.”

    He followed the instructions. Didn’t say a word.
    I appreciated that. Some of the older boys make jokes, try to get a laugh. That only slows things down.

    He didn’t make eye contact. Didn’t say thank you. Didn’t need to.

    I handed him the cup. “Restroom. Don’t flush. Bring it back here.”

    He walked off. I marked the time.

    Eight minutes. Ahead of schedule.

    [Running back]

    The cup was warm in my hand. I couldn’t stop staring at it.

    I walked past the others still waiting their turn. Could feel their eyes shift sideways. No one said anything. Of course they didn’t.

    You can’t complain about policy. Not when it’s been written, filed, laminated.

    You can’t tell the man with the clipboard that this—this small thing—
    the asking, the standing, the exposure—
    felt more violent than the worst day of your life.

    You can’t say: at least when I was assaulted, it wasn’t done with paperwork.

    So I just did what they asked.

    And I didn’t cry.

    Not because I was strong.
    Because there was no room for it on the form.

    [Clune]

    He came back. Cup full. No problems.

    I signed it in, sealed the label, and called the next name.

    The line moved on. Same as always.

    Just another day.

    “After”

    [Running back]

    The hallway was empty by the time I got to the locker room.

    I didn’t go to the showers. I didn’t go to my locker. I went to the stall in the far back corner, the one with the broken latch. I slid inside, sat on the closed toilet seat, and locked my arms around my ribs like they might fall open if I didn’t hold them shut.

    It was just a screening.
    That’s what I kept hearing.
    That’s what everyone said.

    I did what I was told. I stood where they pointed. I held the cup. I walked across the gym with my spine straight and my hands calm. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry.

    I was very good.

    They like it when you’re good.
    When you don’t make their job harder.
    When you don’t ask: Is this really necessary?

    Because then they’d have to think about it. And they don’t want to.

    So I didn’t ask.

    I just waited until I could be alone.

    And now I was.

    The panic didn’t hit me like a train. It came like a tide. Quiet at first. Just a tightness behind my eyes and the feeling that my skin didn’t fit quite right.

    Then my hands started shaking.

    Then my breath.

    Then everything.

    I covered my mouth with both palms and let the air rip through me in silent gasps. I didn’t want to make sound. I didn’t want someone to come in and ask if I was okay. I didn’t want to have to lie.

    Because I wasn’t okay.

    Not because someone touched me.
    But because they didn’t.
    Because no one did anything wrong.
    Because it was all “within protocol.”
    Because the clipboard said it was fine.

    And because that was the part I couldn’t explain.

    I curled forward, forehead to knees, and stayed that way until my breathing calmed. Until my hands stopped shaking. Until the sick cold in my chest settled into the familiar weight of being seen—but never recognized.

    I would walk out of that stall, pull on my clothes, and go home.

    No one would ask.
    No one would know.

    And tomorrow, I’d come back to school.

    Just like they wanted.

    Just like I always do.

    “Flagged”

    [Clune]

    I was packing up the kits when I saw him.

    Same kid from earlier—thin, quiet, cooperative. No red flags during the exam, no complaint, no attitude. He walked straight out after turning in his cup. I figured he was one of the easy ones.

    But now he was in the back of the locker area, just sitting in a stall with the door cracked open, hunched over like he’d taken a hit to the stomach. Head in his hands. Elbows on knees. Shaking.

    I paused.

    That could mean anything.

    Overhydrated. Low blood sugar. Nerves. Maybe the kid realized he’d tested dirty. Maybe he was about to text someone to come clean out his locker before admin showed up.

    They’d warned us about this kind of thing in the training: If a student behaves erratically after testing, it may indicate guilt, substance dependence, or tampering.

    I made a note on the log sheet. “Subject 6 appeared emotionally dysregulated post-collection. Recommending secondary screen + follow-up panel.”

    Not punitive. Just protocol.

    Coach Mercer came around the corner as I was zipping the test kits.

    “Everything go smooth?” he asked.

    “Mostly. One of the boys might be using something. Just a feeling.”

    He narrowed his eyes. “Which one?”

    “Quiet one. Pale. Think he’s your second-string receiver.”

    Coach nodded once. “We’ve had our suspicions.”

    He didn’t ask for details.

    Ten minutes later, I called central and filed an expanded screening recommendation. Full panel. Entire team. Strip it down to clean it up.

    Just doing my job.

    “Second Screening”

    [Running back]

    We were told to report to the auxiliary gym after school. No gear. No bags. No explanation.

    No Coach Mercer.

    Just a note on the locker room door:
    MANDATORY FOLLOW-UP SCREENING.
    ALL VARSITY ATHLETES. NO EXCEPTIONS.

    We filed in, twenty boys in silence, past the rows of folding chairs and gray tables and plastic bins.

    There were more staff this time—men in gloves and jackets and calm voices. Not school employees. Not anyone we’d seen before. No names. Just badges and clipboards and that same man from the last round, the one who handed me the cup. He didn’t look at me as I passed him.

    Maybe he didn’t recognize me.

    Maybe he did.

    The first thing they did was take our clothes. No hesitation this time. No shoes-only first. Just strip. Now. Fold your things. Put them in the bin with your number on it.

    We stood in rows, naked, not talking.

    Someone muttered “what the hell” under their breath. No one answered.

    We were led in pairs to the scale. Measured. Weighed. Noted.

    They used calipers on some of the guys. Took blood from the arm—rubber band, alcohol swab, syringe. The nurse didn’t speak. She held our arms like they weren’t attached to people.

    Then the cups again.

    This time there were partitions, but open-fronted—half privacy, not real. The man from last time nodded as I took mine.

    “Full stream. Don’t flush. Hand it directly to the table when finished.”

    His voice was exactly the same. Measured. Clean. Like this was all a form of math.

    When I handed the cup back, our eyes met for a second.

    He looked away.

    [Clune]

    The second round was always more involved.

    That’s what the regional director said. If the first pass flagged anything—or anyone—then policy allowed for an expanded collection window. Full team. No opt-outs. Keep it neutral. Keep it sterile.

    The students were quieter this time. More suspicious. The whole room had a heat to it that wasn’t from the overhead lights.

    I kept my clipboard moving. Time-in, time-out. Blood labels matched. Urine seals logged. Height, weight, hydration, everything documented. No leaks. No incidents.

    Except maybe the pale kid again.

    He didn’t say anything. Didn’t complain. But he looked… hollow.

    Not guilty. Just… distant.

    I almost asked him if he was alright.

    But that’s not what we’re trained for.
    And I still had six more to get through before the samples went out to lab.

    So I moved on.

    [Running back]

    I stood there, skin burning under air-conditioning, my chest dotted from the alcohol wipe, my arm sore where the needle had gone in, and I felt like I had no name anymore. No face. Just a number on a checklist that no one read aloud.

    No one said what they were looking for.

    No one said who’d made this happen.

    But I knew.

    I knew what they saw when I sat in that bathroom stall last time. I knew what they thought my shaking meant.

    It didn’t matter what really happened to me six months ago in the woods.
    It didn’t matter that I hadn’t used anything.

    Because I’d looked like someone who had something to hide.

    And now they had taken everything.

    Internal Email – Confidential

    From: Assistant Director, Student Health & Compliance
    To: Dean of Athletics, School Administrator Liaison
    Subject: Follow-up on Drug Screening – Flagged Cohort

    Dear Team,

    Following last week’s secondary drug screening of the varsity athletics cohort, we can confirm that no banned substances were detected in any samples. However, per protocol, several risk indicators were observed during the expanded collection window. These include:

    • Heightened emotional reactivity in at least one subject following initial screening.
    • Unusual compliance variance across the team (notably subdued affect, lack of verbal engagement).
    • Apparent group perception of disciplinary tone despite framing as standard procedure.

    While the screenings returned clean, the perception management component underperformed. Students appeared unaware that the secondary round was procedural, not punitive.

    To that end, we recommend the following for future screenings:

    1. Pre-screen communication template that clearly states:
      “This is not a disciplinary action.”
    2. Expanded counselor availability, after—not before—testing, to prevent emotional behavior that might signal non-compliance or cause concern.
    3. Discretionary reporting training for contract screeners. Over-reporting “distress” may trigger unnecessary escalations.

    Thanks to all for the swift coordination. Let’s remember: the integrity of the process matters as much as the outcome.

    Best,
    Jeffrey R. Clune
    Assistant Director, Health & Compliance Programs
    Western Regional School Network

    Excerpt – Meeting Summary (Internal Use Only)

    Subject: Review of Expanded Screening Implementation
    Date: [REDACTED]
    Facilitator: Clune

    Key Points:

    • All lab results negative
    • No incident reports filed
    • One case of elevated emotionality post-initial screening led to expansion; expansion deemed “precautionary, appropriate.”
    • Team morale flagged as “mildly impacted,” but not significantly disruptive.
    • No formal grievances submitted.

    Action Items:

    • Retain current contractor for screenings
    • Minor language revisions for opt-in forms (legal prefers “routine procedure” over “mandatory”)
    • Encourage coaching staff to remain on-site during future screenings when possible

    The harm is over. The process is complete.
    There is no record of pain. Only that something looked like risk, so action was taken.
    No correction needed. No one did anything “wrong.”
    The machine did what it was built to do.

    “Standard Protocol”

    [Clune – two years later]

    They called my name at the checkpoint.

    Not loudly. Not even rudely. Just a name, in the same tone I used to use with high school kids. Flat. Professional. Like the word meant nothing.

    “Randall Chase.”

    I looked up from my badge, halfway through scanning out. “Sorry?”

    “Step into Room Two. Random screening.”

    For a second, I didn’t move. Not out of defiance—just surprise. In eighteen months on the job, I’d never been selected. I knew it was in the welcome packet, sure. All employees are subject to random search, including full body and cavity inspection, to protect proprietary material. Standard language. Everyone signed it. Nobody expected it.

    Room Two was white and humming. The kind of humming you feel more than hear. Fluorescents. Seamless floors. A stainless steel table with a sealed evidence bin underneath.

    The compliance officer—some subcontractor I’d never met—wore nitrile gloves and called me sir while telling me to remove my jacket, then shirt, then shoes. He was polite. Detached. I recognized the tone.

    I used to use it.

    “Pants next.”

    I looked at him like I hadn’t heard right. He didn’t repeat himself. Just waited, professionally still.

    I hesitated. Not because I was modest—hell, we’ve all been through airport security. But this felt… different. This wasn’t public. It was internal. It was my own company treating me like a possible threat.

    I removed the rest. Folded it. Stood in front of a man in gloves and a soft, polite voice, naked under LED lights while he filled out a form.

    “Any injuries I should be aware of?” he asked.

    I shook my head.

    He walked around me once, glanced at my feet, my back, my palms, my ears. Then: “I’m going to ask you to bend, knees apart, and cough.”

    And I—

    I don’t know what I expected.

    I’d asked a teenage boy to do that once, years ago.
    I’d handed him a cup and watched him walk barefoot across a gym floor, all bones and silence.

    He hadn’t looked at me. But I remembered his face.

    Afterward, I noted him as “mildly distressed.” Recommended secondary screening. Thought I was being thorough. Careful. Professional.

    He’d looked like he might be hiding something.

    I had no idea what he was hiding.

    I’d carried that decision for years like a closed file—something long settled.

    Until now.

    Now, with cold air at my back and a man in gloves instructing me to part my body for company property, I understood the math:

    Consent isn’t comprehension.
    Compliance isn’t comfort.
    Procedure doesn’t care.

    This man wasn’t cruel. Neither was I, back then.

    But I had helped design the moment that broke that kid apart.

    Not with malice.
    With certainty.

    That was worse.

    “Thank you,” the officer said. “You can dress.”

    I did. Mechanically. Quietly. As I laced my shoes, I felt something raw pulsing behind my ribs. Not guilt, exactly.

    Empathy. Late and useless.

    But real.

    Outside, the hallway smelled like recycled air and vinyl. I nodded to the officer, who didn’t look up, already calling the next name.

    Just another day.

    “Routine”

    [Contractor]

    The guy’s name was Chase. Randall. Mid-40s. Wore loafers that probably cost more than my rent. Another one of these corporate lifers, pale and clean-shaven, walking out of the building like he didn’t expect his day to take a turn.

    They called him for random. Room Two.

    My room.

    I met him at the door. Polite. Neutral. Never use first names. Never break pace.

    “Afternoon. Step inside, please.”

    He gave me that look—half-confused, half-pissed. Happens a lot. They all sign the waiver, but they don’t read it. They just want their badge, their benefits, and their seat at the table.

    They don’t expect this.

    Hell, I don’t even expect this.

    I unlocked the checklist on my tablet. Full search. Level Three. That meant visual, cavity, and standard verbal responses.

    I pulled on the gloves. Blue nitrile. Cold.

    And as I gave him the instructions—remove jacket, shirt, shoes—I couldn’t help thinking, What’s the point?

    We never find anything.

    Not once.

    Not a single piece of data, a stolen schematic, a flash drive tucked under a waistband. The tech’s too small now. You couldn’t hide anything on your body that wouldn’t get picked up by scanners. If someone wants to exfiltrate data, they’ll email it to themselves from a burner phone or sneak it into Slack with a dummy project code.

    This? This is theater.

    This is ritual.

    Is it just to keep them on their toes?

    That’s the only thing that makes sense. Embarrass a few people now and then so the rest stay scared. Build enough friction into the process so no one feels immune.

    Except—I don’t think it makes them careful.

    I think it makes them competitive.

    I think the smart ones don’t feel threatened. I think they feel challenged. Like someone just asked them to beat the house.

    “Pants and underwear, please.”

    He hesitated. They always do. You can see the flash in their eyes—like they suddenly remember what the consent form really said. But most don’t argue. Not if they want to keep their clearance.

    I kept my voice even. No edge. Just process.

    He stepped out of his pants. Folded everything. Arms at his sides. Good posture. Probably had military in his background. Or private school.

    I walked him through the rest. Inspection. Cough. Cup for a fluid sample, just to cross-check hydration metrics. We didn’t even test the urine for drugs—not unless we were told to.

    And as I watched him stand there, staring through me like I wasn’t even real, I thought again: What the hell am I doing?

    He’s not stealing anything.
    He’s not a risk.
    He’s a man getting humiliated on a Tuesday because someone needs a checkbox filled.

    “Thank you,” I said, when it was done. Like that meant anything.

    He dressed in silence. Didn’t ask why. Didn’t look at me.

    I ticked off the form and called the next name.

    Just another round. Just another performance.

    Just another day where nothing happens—
    except that something did.

    We just won’t ever admit what it was.

    “Implementation Planning – IP Compliance Protocol”

    Transcript Excerpt – Internal Operations Meeting
    Date: [REDACTED]
    Attendees:
    – Julian Keene (VP, Operations)
    – Rhonda Mays (Director, HR Compliance)
    – Seth Olivetti (Counsel, Legal & Risk)

    JULIAN KEENE: So let’s walk through it. We’ve had two near-misses in the last fiscal, both related to proprietary schematics. That’s two more than I’m comfortable with. The board’s priority this quarter is IP security.

    RHONDA MAYS: We’ve got options. We can enhance digital surveillance—email filters, off-site behavior tagging—or we can make a physical protocol more visible.

    KEENE: Physical makes people behave. There’s a psychology to it. Visibility equals deterrence.

    OLIVETTI: Legally, we’re fine. As long as consent is secured at onboarding, and it’s applied consistently. Randomization is key. If we target people based on profile or performance, we’ll open ourselves up. But if it’s lottery-based and logged—no exposure.

    KEENE: Full body?

    OLIVETTI: Including cavity. It’ll raise eyebrows, but it holds up. We’ve got language already. “Employees may be subject to visual and physical inspection at the discretion of the Compliance Office, including random and unannounced searches to protect intellectual property and proprietary technologies.”

    MAYS: That’ll go in the welcome packet. We’ll add a digital acknowledgement on Day One.

    KEENE: Do we need separate consent?

    OLIVETTI: If it’s in the contract, the consent is implied. But we can add an initialed box, if you want the optics.

    MAYS: People won’t read it. They never do.

    (Laughter.)

    KEENE: Good. So we’ll brief site leads on the rollout, start Q2. I want monthly reports—number of searches, time per screening, any flaggable behavior. Nothing fancy. Just keep the wheels greased.

    MAYS: What about the on-site contractors? Who performs the searches?

    KEENE: Third-party, low liability. Use one of the vetting firms we already work with for warehouse ops. No point building an internal team.

    OLIVETTI: It also buffers us from emotional claims. “I was uncomfortable” doesn’t go anywhere if it’s a contractor doing their job by the book.

    KEENE: Perfect. Keep it procedural. Keep it clean. We’re not looking to punish anyone—we’re protecting our pipeline. This isn’t about policing. It’s about preserving value.

    MAYS: And if we find nothing?

    KEENE: Then the system’s working.

    Meeting ends.

    “Screening Room Four”

    [Olivetti]

    I tapped my badge like I always did.
    It blinked red.

    “ID mismatch. Please report to Screening Room Four.”

    For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the panel like it had made a mistake in front of someone important. I almost laughed.

    Room Four? That was for interns. For engineers lugging too many cables or junior devs who hadn’t read the protocol memo closely enough. Not me.

    I tried my badge again. Red again.
    A calm chime followed.

    “Please report to Screening Room Four.”

    I exhaled and turned.

    It wasn’t like I had anything to hide. I was carrying a company tablet, my work phone, and my personal iPhone. All company-issued or registered. All standard. But something must’ve tripped the audit software—maybe a sync lag or overlapping metadata signatures. I’d written the language for that policy myself. The scanners weren’t judging—they were flagging anomalies.

    Still, it was annoying.
    I had a dinner reservation.

    Room Four was smaller than I remembered.
    Or maybe it just felt smaller with the door closed behind me.

    A compliance contractor greeted me—early 30s, polite, clipboard in hand. I didn’t recognize him. That was by design. The rotation was randomized. Keep it clean, keep it impartial.

    “Mr. Olivetti, your badge was flagged on exit due to device duplication and an asset scan variance. We’ll need to review the items and complete a level four verification.”

    “Of course,” I said, smoothing my tie. “It’s just the phones and tablet. Happy to unlock them.”

    “Appreciate it.”

    We started with the devices—first my personal phone, then the work one. My company-issued tablet had a routine dev build open. Nothing sensitive. Nothing I hadn’t reviewed for redaction myself. He noted each serial number, logged the inspection, placed the devices in a secure tray.

    I thought we were done. That was my mistake.

    The contractor cleared his throat.

    “Because of the device count and software overlap, we’ll also need to run a full body x-ray scan.”

    “A scan? Really?” I blinked.

    “Standard escalation per the duplicate-data protocol. You know how it works.”

    Of course I did. I wrote the clause.
    But knowing it and living it weren’t the same.

    Before I could respond, a second contractor entered with a cart. Lead-lined gown. Gloves. Radiography scanner prepped and humming.

    “Please remove your jacket, belt, and watch,” the new contractor said.

    I complied.

    Then: “Please remove your shirt. Pants and undershirt as well.”

    I paused.

    “This is a non-invasive scan,” the first one added. “You’ll be clothed again before any additional checks, if necessary.”

    The words sounded like legal disclaimers read aloud. That’s what they were, after all. Words I’d signed off on. Copy-edited. Passed through legal risk.

    I stripped to my underwear.
    The room was cold. Not cruel—just indifferent.

    The scanner moved across my frame like a slow, mechanical eye. No one looked at my face.

    A third contractor entered, handed a new clipboard to the first. I could make out part of the form: “Secondary Trigger – Visual Inventory Clearance.”

    “We’re almost done,” the first man said, not unkindly. “We just need visual confirmation of no unauthorized hardware. Basic final pass.”

    Which meant: a full visual inspection.
    Not a cavity search. But close.

    And not something I could refuse—not without raising my own red flag.

    So I nodded.

    They were respectful. Professional. Detached.
    They called me sir and thanked me and used all the right words.

    But by the time I was allowed to redress, the air had changed.
    I was sweating behind the collar as I slid my tie back into place.

    No one had accused me of anything.
    No one had raised their voice.
    No one had broken policy.

    And yet—

    I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had broken anyway.
    Not because I’d been mistreated.

    But because I finally understood.
    How sterile compliance could feel like accusation.
    How being processed was not the same as being protected.
    How I had built this.

    “Mitigations”

    [Olivetti]

    Wednesday, 9:10am – Conference Room E-6

    The coffee in Conference Room E-6 tasted like cardboard.
    I didn’t drink it. Just held the cup between both hands like it might steady me.

    Rhonda Mays arrived three minutes late, tablet in hand, her ID badge still clipped to her blazer pocket.

    “Sorry,” she said. “Quarterly onboarding stats ran over. What’s up?”

    I gestured for her to sit. She didn’t. Just tapped her screen to wake it up and waited.

    “I got flagged at exit yesterday,” I said.

    That made her look up.

    “You?”

    I nodded once.

    “Was it clean?” she asked, more out of habit than concern.

    “Yeah. Tablet and two phones. Some metadata overlap triggered a scan.”

    She gave a soft laugh, shook her head. “God, that’s the system working, I guess.”

    “Sure.”

    She paused, sensing something under my tone.

    “You’re not here to dispute it, are you?”

    “No. It was by the book. Every step.” I said it like a curse.

    She didn’t flinch. Still standing. Still composed.

    “I helped write the escalation language,” I added. “I know exactly what triggered the scan. I know what the contractors are trained to do.”

    She nodded again, slower. “So what’s the issue?”

    I let the silence hang. Then:
    “Have you ever done it?”

    “Done what?”

    “Gone through a Level Four screening.”

    She frowned. “No. I mean, no one ever has reason to flag me. I don’t carry dual devices. I’ve never even gotten a pull for Level Two.”

    I gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I hadn’t either. Until yesterday.”

    She tapped her tablet. “Did something go wrong with the procedure?”

    “No,” I said. Then after a beat: “But something still felt… wrong.”

    She was watching me now. Curious, but unmoved.

    “I’m just wondering,” I continued, “if there’s a way to… minimize the humiliation factor.”

    She blinked. “Humiliation?”

    “I mean, yeah. The scan. The strip. Three contractors. No eye contact. No dignity.”

    She crossed her arms. “They were polite, right?”

    “Yes.”

    “Professional?”

    “Yes.”

    “No invasive contact? No deviation from protocol?”

    “No. But that’s not the point.”

    “Then what is the point?”

    I finally looked up from the coffee cup.

    “That maybe we designed something that doesn’t feel like security. It feels like punishment. And we didn’t build in any space for that.”

    She set her tablet down.

    “With all due respect, Seth, this isn’t about feelings. This is about IP security. It’s not supposed to feel good.”

    “I’m not asking for it to feel good. I’m asking whether it has to feel like that.”

    She didn’t respond.

    I tried again.

    “If you’d been there—if you’d had to stand under that scanner, stripped down while someone you’ve never met filled out a form about the shape of your body—you’d understand what I mean. I’m not saying we dismantle it. I’m saying… do we have to run it so cold?”

    Rhonda sighed, pulled her tablet back into her hands.

    “We can explore adding debrief language. A post-scan courtesy statement. Maybe a contact point for emotional feedback. But if you’re looking for a version of this that doesn’t feel like exposure, I don’t think it exists.”

    “Maybe not,” I said, quieter. “But we never asked that question when we built it.”

    She gave me a small, neutral smile.

    “We didn’t have to. We had consent.”

    She left the room before I could answer.

    “Trigger Condition”

    [Olivetti]

    I set the flag at 10:47 a.m.

    It was simple. I embedded a version-mismatched prototype file—intentionally mislabeled—onto my company tablet. Then tethered my personal phone to my work device via Bluetooth, masking the handshake under a generic diagnostic function. A duplicate connection would get flagged. A classified document in the wrong shell would trigger Level Four.

    But the mismatched version? That tipped it to Level Five.

    I’d signed off on that designation myself. Presumed extraction intent with internal compromise indicators. It was language meant for worst-case scenarios. A corporate spy. A saboteur. A whistleblower in disguise.

    I set the timer for 2:53 p.m.—just before shift turnover, when the day team was prepping to log out and the night team wasn’t fully staffed yet. Security fatigue meets incoming vigilance. Sloppiness meets overcompensation.

    The perfect storm.

    At 2:52 p.m., I walked calmly toward the exit checkpoint.

    The badge scanner blinked red before I reached it.
    Two pings. Then a tone. Then a lockout.

    I felt the moment the building noticed me.

    A voice—neutral, automated—sounded above the door.
    “Please remain where you are. Compliance personnel are en route.”

    People turned. Some glanced and kept walking. A few paused.

    A second voice—human this time, earpiece and clipboard—approached from the elevator.
    “Mr. Olivetti, you’ve been flagged for Level Five containment.”

    Containment.
    The word wasn’t supposed to feel like a verdict. But it did.

    “This way, please.”

    No cuffs. No escort. Just a path.
    But everyone saw me walk it.

    Screening Room Nine.

    I’d only heard about it. Never used it. Never seen the inside.

    The door sealed with a hiss. Not dramatic—just airtight.
    The lighting was clinical—white, unblinking.
    The walls were soundproofed. The chair was stainless steel.

    There were five contractors, not three. And they were tense.

    No one said “sir.”
    No one said “thank you.”
    No one smiled.

    Because Level Five meant intent.
    They had protocol to follow now, not politeness.

    A bag was produced. I was told to strip fully and place all belongings—ID, watch, even my wedding ring—into it.

    Then I was instructed to stand in a delineated box, feet spread, arms up.

    A male compliance officer entered. A body wand was run across every inch of me.

    Then came the internal scanner—small, wheeled, mounted with thermal and biometric sensors. It hummed as it passed over my bare chest, my abdomen, my back.

    Then:
    “Cavity inspection. Visual and digital. Per Level Five code.”

    My mouth went dry.
    I nodded. Mechanically.

    They were clinical. Gloved. Efficient.

    But nothing about it was distant.
    I felt it all.

    The air.
    The pressure.
    The way the room never acknowledged I was a person—only a vector.

    I submitted to every step. Not to prove something.
    To see.

    It took 94 minutes.

    By the time they cleared me, repacked my clothes, and handed me a form titled Flag Resolved – Inconclusive Breach, I was numb.

    The last man handed me a bottle of water and said nothing.
    No apology.
    No inquiry.

    Just compliance.

    Outside, the sunset bled orange across the parking lot. I sat in my car for a long time, not turning the engine over.

    I had nothing to say.
    No outrage to voice.
    No argument to make.

    Because the system had worked.
    Exactly.
    As.
    Designed.

    “Escalation Path”

    [Olivetti]

    I went home and started a memo.

    I titled it something innocuous—Post-Flag Debrief: Procedural Consistency & Optics. Filled it with measured phrases: discretionary escalation fatigue, psychosocial threshold variance, non-carceral compliance culture.

    I didn’t send it.
    Didn’t even finish it.

    Because halfway through, it hit me:
    No one would change anything unless they experienced it themselves.

    And there was only one name that mattered.

    Julian Keene.

    The man who used words like preserve value and visibility equals deterrence.
    The man who signed off on cavity search language like it was just another line item.
    The man who had never once been touched by the machine he greased.

    But if a C-suite exec triggered Level Five?

    I’d be legally required to witness the search as internal counsel.
    It would be my name on the audit log.
    And Julian—Julian would have to stand where I stood.

    Not in theory.
    In body.

    A week later, I waited for an opening.

    I studied his calendar. Not hard. Shared files. Recurring meetings. Weekly Wednesday check-out at 4:15 p.m. Always an early departure before Thursday board prep.

    Perfect.

    I opened a fresh message.
    Subject: For your afternoon brain melt
    Attachment: keene_dogmeme_finalFINAL.gif

    The file looked harmless—just a looping GIF of a golden retriever typing on a keyboard.

    But buried deep in the image’s metadata was a time-stamped file conflict, piggybacking off an archived visual asset still tagged under “classified.” I’d hidden it months ago, in a test folder, under a project name that no longer existed.

    It was barely a violation.

    But it would be enough.

    Level Five protocol didn’t care about intent. It cared about pattern matches, location overlap, digital artifact bleed.

    It was a net designed to snag everything that didn’t fit.

    I clicked send.

    Screening Room Nine

    [Keene]

    My last meeting had run long, but I still had time to beat traffic, maybe call my daughter before dinner. I was checking my phone when my badge scanner blinked red.

    I tried again.

    Red.

    Then the voice:
    “Please report to Screening Room Nine.”

    At first, I assumed it was a mistake. A glitch. I’d never been flagged. Not in fifteen years. Not even a Level One.

    But the guard at the checkpoint didn’t smile. He tapped a screen, nodded, and gestured to the elevator.

    Screening Room Nine was colder than I expected.

    Flatter.

    I expected a briefing, a form, some kind of clarification.

    Instead: five contractors, all in gray polos, moving with precise, choreographed silence. The lead one—a man maybe ten years younger than me—read from a script as if I wasn’t even there.

    “Flagged for Level Five. Visual inspection, radiography, and digital clearance check.”

    I opened his mouth to protest.
    Then I saw Seth Olivetti walk in.

    The look on Seth’s face wasn’t smug.
    It was worse.

    It was apologetic.

    “What the hell is this?” I asked. “They said it’s Level Five. What was flagged?”

    Seth kept his tone flat. “Metadata conflict on a restricted asset. It’ll be resolved after inspection.”

    I was so annoyed. “This is ridiculous. I have clearance. I wrote clearance.”

    “So did I,” Seth said. “Please follow instructions.”

    I started rationalizing immediately:
    “This will be quick. It’s just a scan. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not the exception. I am not afraid.”

    Then came the instructions.

    “Remove all clothing, including undergarments. Jewelry and watch, too. Place items in the marked bag.”

    I hesitated.

    They waited.

    So I stripped.

    Not with dignity—just efficiency.
    I folded my pants. My shirt. Even my underwear.

    I placed my Rolex in a plastic tray.

    And then I stood—naked, exposed, under the hum of a ceiling light, waiting for something worse.

    It came.

    A full-body scan, with arms raised, legs spread.
    The machine buzzed. The technicians murmured. One noted his body temperature, logged his blood pressure.

    Then: “Prepare for internal inspection.”

    My mouth went dry.

    A second technician entered. Gloves. Lubricant. A flat, professional tone: “This will be brief.”

    And then—

    The touch. The pressure.
    My body betraying itself.

    I could feel it happening.
    A pulse. A tightening. An erection blooming without warning, without permission, like some cruel joke my nerves were playing on me.

    No one said anything.

    No one looked surprised.

    They kept working.

    The technician didn’t pause. Didn’t scowl. Didn’t comment.

    Just proceeded.

    I wanted to die.

    My entire career, I had cultivated control. Of rooms. Of decisions. Of narratives.

    And here I was. Hard. Helpless. Held open by protocol.

    I stared at the wall.

    I counted floor tiles.

    I bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

    And when it was over, they handed me a gown and told me to wait while the scan cleared.

    I dressed slowly.

    No one made eye contact.

    The lead technician handed me a printed receipt.

    “Level Five: Resolved. No breach.”

    No apology.

    No smile.

    Just release.

    I walked to my car, jaw clenched, heart pounding.

    Outside, the sun was too bright. The breeze too soft. The world wrong.

    And then I saw Seth.

    Standing by his car. Watching.

    I wanted to scream.
    To swing. To ask how could you.

    But all I managed was:
    “You watched.”

    And Seth said:
    “Yes.”

    And Julian understood something he never had before.

    That the system he helped build didn’t care who he was.

    That his body didn’t care what he deserved.

    That compliance was a blade, and everyone bleeds the same when it cuts.

  • Skinned

    Heaviness

    Skinned: Season 1, Episode 2


    The light was a thin, unforgiving blade of morning sun, slicing through a high, barred window to stab Colt directly in the eyes. He was on a thin, plastic-covered mattress that crinkled with every move. He cracked an eye open and the light illuminated a universe of dancing dust motes, each one a tiny witness to his failure.

    He pushed himself into a sitting position, his boots scuffing against the cold concrete floor. The cell was a six-by-eight-foot concrete box. It smelled bad (really bad). From beyond the steel door, he could hear the distant, impersonal sounds of the station house waking up, a phone ringing unanswered, the murmur of muted voices, the clatter of a coffee mug. Each sound was a reminder of a world that was moving on without him, a world he was, in a way, no longer a part of.

    The adrenaline, the rage, the red haze that had consumed him last night, it was all gone. All that remained was the hangover and the shame. It settled over him like a heavy, greasy blanket suffocating him.

    The memories came back in jagged, unwelcome flashes.

    He dropped his head into his ruined hands, the throbbing in his knuckles a dull counterpoint to the one in his skull. He had finally done it. He’d run himself straight into a wall he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fuck, and couldn’t outrun. This was it. Rock bottom didn’t have a basement. He was well and truly fucked, and for the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do next.

    A slow, heavy tread approaching his cell. He pushed himself off the cot, forcing his body into a semblance of a standing position, leaning against the cold concrete wall for support. He would not be found cowering on the floor. His pride was the only thing he had left.

    A key rattled in the heavy lock, the noise unnaturally loud. The steel door swung inward with a protesting groan, revealing Sheriff Brody standing in the opening. He wasn’t holding a nightstick or a file. He was holding two steaming Styrofoam cups.

    He stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a soft but final click. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked Colt over with those tired seen-it-all eyes. His gaze lingered on Colt’s swollen knuckles, the blooming bruise on his cheek, the split in his lip. It wasn’t a look of judgment, more like a doctor looking at a patient who refused to take his medicine.

    “Figured you could use this.” Brody said, his voice a low rumble. He extended one of the cups.

    Colt stared at it for a long second before his body’s desperate need for caffeine won out over his pride. He took the cup, his fingers clumsy and stiff. The heat seeped through the thin Styrofoam, a small, shocking comfort against his cold skin. He took a sip. It was black, bitter and scalding hot.

    Brody leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring Colt’s posture, and took a slow sip from his own cup.

    “Beau’s will not pressing charges…” He finally said, his voice flat. “…but his dad will. Seems Beau has a broken nose and a couple of cracked ribs. Add that to the damages at the bar. Loretta says you did about eight hundred dollars’ worth of stupid in there.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “They’re pushing for a felony assault charge, Colt. And, given your history of public disagreements, and the sheer violence of it, the prosecutor is gonna run with it. Even with the best lawyer in the county, which you can’t afford, you’re looking at time. Real time, kiddo.”

    A block of ice formed in Colt’s stomach. Felony. The word was a brand. A life sentence served long after you got out of the cage. He’d always managed to skirt the edge, ending up with misdemeanors, fines he couldn’t pay, a reputation as a hothead. But this was different. This was a point of no return. The bitter coffee threatened to come back up. He swallowed it down, hard.

    “So that’s it?” Colt’s voice was a rough rasp. “I go to trial, get sent up?”

    Brody took another long and slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Colt’s damaged face. “That’s option one. Option two is you plead guilty to a lesser charge, but you’ll still do a year, maybe eighteen months in county. And you’ll still have a record that’ll make it impossible to get a decent job anywhere but an oil rig or a slaughterhouse.” He said, pushing himself off the wall “But there might be a third option. An old-school way of handling things.”

    Colt’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”

    “There’s a man…” Brody said, choosing his words carefully. “He lives out past the old quarry. Bartholomew Gideon. We call him Bug.”

    The name was bizarre. It sounded like something you’d call an exterminator or an eccentric old hermit. “Bug…” Colt repeated, the name tasting weird in his mouth.

    “He’s a fixer. Of a sort.” Brody continued. “He’s got a big ranch out there and he owes me a favor, a big one. I called him this morning, explained everything to him, and he’s agreed to pay your restitution to Loretta’s bar, straight cash. In exchange, you go with him. You work on his ranch. Hard labor, Kid. From sunup to sundown, six days a week. No pay. No phone. No leaving. You work until the debt is paid off in his eyes. You finish, you walk away clean. No charges filed, no record. It’s like last night never happened.”

    The offer started to smelling like a trap. A cold dread slithered up his spine. It was a ghost from the past caressed his shoulders. He knew men like Bug, who preyed on others’ weaknesses to get exactly what they wanted. Colt pride, his stupid and broken pride, roared to life.

    “No!” he said. “Forget it. I’ll take my chances in jail.”

    He expected Sheriff Brody to argue, to get angry. Instead, he just looked at him with that same bottomless pity. “You think jail is a choice, boy?” He asked, with a voice soft but cutting. “You think it’s some noble sacrifice? Son, I knew your father. He was a hard man, and he was wrong about a lot of things, but he wanted you to be more than he was. Jail is a dead end. A felony on your record is a wall around the rest of your life. You’ll be twenty-six when you get out, branded as a violent criminal. You’ll never get a lease on your own apartment, never get a loan for a truck, never be able to leave this state without a parole officer’s permission.”

    Brody took a step closer, his voice dropping lower. “This… this is different. It’s a cage, yeah. I ain’t gonna lie to you. But it’s a cage with a horizon. He’s a hard man, harder than your father ever was. But he’s fair. What he’s offering you isn’t a punishment, kid. It’s a road. It’s gonna be a rough, shitty road paved with sweat and pain. But it goes somewhere. Jail doesn’t.”

    Brody finished his coffee and crumpled the cup in his big fist. “He’s waiting for you in my office. The choice is yours, kid.”


    The hallway felt a mile long.

    Brody led the way as Colt trailing a few feet behind. The handcuffs were back on, a cold, heavy weight on his wrists. Every deputy and secretary they passed looked up, their faces a mixture of curiosity and the mild, detached interest one might give a stray dog being led to the pound. Colt kept his eyes fixed on the scuffed linoleum floor, the shame a hot brand on the back of his neck.

    Brody’s office was small with gunmetal grey filing cabinets, stacks of paperwork and a faint, lingering smell of cigar smoke. A large map of the county, dotted with colored pins, took up most of one wall. But Colt barely registered any of it. His attention was snagged, caught and held by the figure standing by the single window.

    He was looking out at the sleepy town square, his back to them. He was tall, but it was more than that. He had a solidness, a rootedness to him. He was wearing simple, worn-in jeans and a plain, dark Henley that stretched across a broad back and powerful shoulders. Even from behind, he radiated an aura of absolute authority.

    “Bug…” Brody said, his voice with a respectful tone. “This is him. Colt.”

    The man turned from the window and Colt got his first real look at Bug, and a cold instinct skittered down his spine.

    He was older, maybe fifty, but time had only concentrated his power. His hair was cut short, more silver than not, matching the neatly trimmed goatee that framed a firm, unsmiling mouth. His face was a road map of a life lived, etched with lines around his eyes and brow. But it was the eyes themselves that held Colt captive. They were a piercing blue-grey, intelligent and as sharp as chips of flint. They looked at Colt, and it felt like being weighed, measured and judged in a single, silent instant.

    Bug didn’t offer a hand. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even nod. He just looked. His eyes traveled from Colt’s bruised face, down his tense, defiant posture, to the swollen, ruined knuckles of his hands, and finally to the manacles binding his wrists.

    Under that unwavering scrutiny, Colt felt every one of his defenses crumble to dust. The anger, the pride, the carefully constructed shell of don’t-give-a-shit bravado. It all felt like a child’s flimsy costume. He felt transparent. Stripped bare. Skinned. He had the sudden, absurd urge to cover himself. He stood his ground, forcing himself not to look away, but it was a losing battle. He was a cornered coyote facing down a grizzly bear. There was no contest.

    Finally, after a silence that stretched until Colt’s nerves were screaming, Bug spoke. His voice was exactly what Colt had expected and dreaded: a low, gravelly rumble, like stones shifting deep underground.

    “Brody told me your story.” He said, his eyes still locked on Colt. “Bar fights. Bad temper. A lot of wasted potential. Sounds familiar to me.” There was no judgment in the words, just a statement of fact. “He’s doing you a favor because he’s a good man who knew and respect your family. I’m not. Let’s be clear about that. I am not your friend. I am not your dad. If you come with me, you are a debt to be collected.”

    He took a step forward, closing the distance until he was only a few feet away.

    “Here are the terms, so there’s no misunderstanding later.” Bug continued, his voice dropping even lower. “The moment you get in my truck, your life as you know it is over. You belong to my ranch. You work from sunup to sundown, and when I say sunup, I mean before the sun is even thinking about rising. You will do every single chore I assign you, no matter how filthy or difficult, without complaint. You will eat what’s put in front of you and you will be grateful for it. You will speak respectfully to me, to my husband and to every other soul on my land. You will not drink. You will not fight. You will not lie.”

    Bug’s gaze flickered to the handcuffs, then back to Colt’s eyes. The intensity there was suffocating.

    “You fuck up, and I mean in any way, big or small, you disrespect me, you cause trouble for my boys, you so much as look at one of my hands the wrong way, and this deal is void. I will personally hogtie you, throw you in the back of my truck and drag you back to this jail so fast your head will spin. Brody will have no choice but to throw the book at you, and I will sleep like a baby that night. This is your only offer.” He took a small step back, crossing his powerful arms over his chest, his expression unreadable “Make your choice.”

    Colt’s entire being screamed defiance. Every instinct, honed by years of fighting against any hand that tried to guide or hold him, wanted to spit in Bug’s face. To choose jail out of pure, stubborn spite. To rot in a cell rather than submit to being this man’s property. The word husband had also landed like a stone in his gut, a confusing, shocking detail that his mind couldn’t quite process yet. It was a life he couldn’t imagine, and now he was being offered a place on its periphery as a glorified slave.

    He looked from Bug’s stone-carved face to Sheriff Brody’s. He wasn’t looking at him. He was looking down at his desk, at a stack of papers, deliberately giving Colt the space to make his own decision. But Colt could see the tension in the sheriff’s shoulders. He had laid out the path. He couldn’t force Colt to take it.

    Colt’s mind raced, a chaotic slideshow of futures. He saw a cramped jail cell, the gray uniforms, the taste of institutional food. He saw the years ticking by, his youth hardening into a permanent, bitter resentment. He saw himself getting out, older, angrier, with a felony hanging around his neck like a noose, preventing him from ever truly being free.

    Then he looked at Bug again. He saw the ranch, a place he couldn’t even picture. He felt the phantom ache of grueling labor, the sting of sweat in his eyes, the humiliation of total submission. He saw a different kind of cage, one with no bars but with a keeper who held absolute power. A keeper whose quiet authority was more intimidating than any warden’s shout. It was a choice between two hells.

    But Brody’s words echoed in his head. It’s a road. It goes somewhere.

    Where had his road led him so far? To a bloody bar floor and a jail cell. His way wasn’t working. It had led him here, to this exact moment of utter ruin. Maybe, just maybe, a different road (even a shitty one paved by this hard-ass stranger) was better than no road at all.

    His pride felt like swallowing broken glass, but he forced it down. He gave a single, short nod. His gaze was fixed on the man. He wouldn’t look at the floor. He would face his new path.

    “I go.” he said. The words came out as a low tasting of defeat.

    A flicker of satisfaction passed through Bug’s eyes. He gave a curt nod to Brody. “Get the paperwork. I’ll write a check.”

    A deputy led Colt out to sign forms he didn’t read, his signature a clumsy scrawl due to the cuffs. He was fingerprinted again, the black ink a stain of shame on his already bruised hands.

    Bug was sitting in the chair opposite Brody’s desk, signing a check from a worn leather checkbook. He tore it out with a crisp rip and handed it to the sheriff.

    Debt paid.

    Ownership transferred.

    Brody took a small key from his belt loop. “Let’s get these off.” he said, stepping behind Colt.

    The click of the handcuffs opening was louder than the click of them closing. Colt’s hands fell to his sides, free but feeling strangely heavy and useless.

    “He’s all yours, my friend.” Brody said to Bug, though his eyes were on Colt.

    “Let’s go, boy.” Bug said.

    He turned and walked out of the office without a backward glance, fully expecting Colt to follow. Colt hesitated for a fraction of a second, his boots feeling rooted to the floor. This was the last moment of his old life. One more step and it was gone forever.

    He didn’t look at Brody as he left. He couldn’t.

    The walk through the station and out into the bright, morning sun was surreal. The world seemed too loud, too bright. Bug’s truck was an old Ford, its dark green paint faded and dusted with a permanent layer of fine brown dirt. Dents and scratches mapped its sides like scars.

    Bug got into the driver’s side and tossed a set of keys on the dashboard. He didn’t open Colt’s door for him. He just waited. Colt circled around the front, the powerful engine ticking as it cooled, and climbed into the passenger seat. The cab smelled of dust. The bench seat was cracked vinyl, the dashboard bare except for the essentials.

    Bug started the engine, the old truck rumbling to life with a powerful cough. He put it in gear and pulled out onto the street, away from the station.

    The silence between them was a third presence in the cab. It was absolute and heavy, broken only by the rumble of the engine and the whine of the tires on the asphalt. Colt stared straight ahead, out the dusty windshield, watching the familiar landmarks of his failed life go by. He felt Bug’s occasional glance, a quick, assessing look that made the hairs on his arms stand up.

    He watched in the side-view mirror as the town (the water tower, the church steeple, the roof of The Rusty Spur) shrank behind them. It grew smaller and smaller until it was just a smudge on the horizon, and then it was gone, swallowed by the endless stretch of Texas asphalt.

    They drove for what felt like an hour, the highway giving way to smaller county roads lined with endless fields and stands of thick, dark woods. Finally, Bug slowed the truck and turned off the main road, onto a long, gravel driveway. The tires crunched over the stones, kicking up a plume of dust behind them that obscured the road back.

    At the entrance to the drive stood a simple, heavy wooden sign, suspended between two thick posts. Two words were carved deep into the dark wood, the letters weathered and strong:

    THREE WILLOWS

    Colt read the name as the truck rolled past, carrying him deeper into an unknown territory, toward a fate he had chosen but couldn’t possibly comprehend. He was no longer just Colt. He was a debt now and he was utterly, terrifyingly, in the hands of the stranger sitting silently beside him.


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  • Promiscuous Boy: Cruising the backroom of Club D

    The thrumming of the music in Club D reached the depth of my bones. Add in the dark recesses of the club and I was in my element. It was almost midnight Friday night, and the place was crowded. Filled with men. Many without shirts. Some with chests confined by harnesses.

    I leaned against the table I was at with my friends. Four of us guys in all. Every one of us are young, hot, and looking for fun. Me moreso than the rest of them.

    I was shameless.

    Catching the eye of a guy at the next table, I played with the straw in my drink with my tongue then sucked it into my mouth. I threw him my most smoldering gaze as I drew on the straw.

    He cocked his head toward me to let his friends know where he was going, then pushed off from his table and wandered over to me. He looked me up and down as I set my glass down.

    “You want to dance?” he shouted.

    I nodded then followed him to the edge of the dance floor. We found a gap in the packed, writhing bodies and headed for it. I couldn’t have kept any distance even if I’d wanted to—men on all sides.

    Swaying my hips to the music, I raised my hands over my head and danced right up against my dance partner’s body. He licked his lips and placed his hands on my hips, riding them.

    His scent filled my senses as I brushed my lips along his cheek. His cologne was intoxicating and sent a corkscrew of warmth to my cock. He tightened his grip on me. I grinned against his skin then spun away from him, keeping the sway happening in my hips.

    I backed up against him, humming as my ass found his thickening dick. He wrapped one arm around my hips, securing me to him and the other up the front of my throat. He growled in my ear as he put me in a chokehold. I didn’t skip a beat. I kept dancing, enticing him to take it further.

    He released me, gripped my arm, and dragged me off the dance floor. He looked toward the opening to the backroom. It wasn’t for everyone.

    Public sex.

    But I was all over it.

    “Lead the way,” I shouted.

    I had to angle through the crowds to keep up with him, his blond hair, and his muscular shoulders. Hopefully, there would be space in the back for us. The lights were dimmed in the room I knew as well as my own bedroom.

    The size of my large living room, the walls were painted deep purple. There were some partitions made of black fabric on frames. But most of the room was open. The door that had shut behind us, muffled the music enough that one could hear the groans and curses of men in the throes of some truly animalistic activities. We found an open space against a wall.

    On one side, a guy was on his knees sucking the cock of a hairy, rotund bear dressed entirely in black leather. He had his head thrown back; the black cap on his head shielding his eyes.

    My conquest for the night pressed me to the wall and descended on my mouth. His hands wandered as he kissed me. Up under my shirt, playing with my nipples, then down to my cock.

    The room smelled like sweat, ass, and cum.

    I choked on a groan as he shifted his hands onto my ass and gripped my cheeks. As he caressed my firm muscles, he slammed his hips against mine, jamming out hard cocks together.

    He released my mouth and kissed along my jawline. I shut my eyes and moaned as he traveled to my neck with his lips. My knees grew weak as he licked and sucked my flesh.

    I needed to touch him.

    I set my fingers to undoing his pants. Unbuttoned and unzippered, I slid my hand past the band of his underwear. What greeted me was thick and gorgeous. And warm. So warm as I wrapped my palm around it and tugged slowly.

    My guy gasped in my ear and bit my earlobe. He crept his hand back under my shirt and pinched my nipple, causing me to shiver. I stroked his cock with increasing speed and purpose.

    I wanted to undo him.

    He grunted, placed his hand on my shoulder, and pressed. He wanted me on my knees. I pushed his chest to move him back and give myself more room, then knelt at his feet.

    I looked up at him in the dim light as I licked the underside of his shaft. He tasted of perspiration—salty and pungent. His slit was beaded with precum. I cleaned it away with my tongue. He jammed his fingers through my hair as I sucked his cock into my mouth.

    He was substantial in my mouth, pressing against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I loved a mouthful that made it difficult to breathe. I sucked, drew back, and played with his cockhead, spitting on it, then dragging my tongue around the thick wet cap and ridge.

    Three men took a place on the other side of us. Two daddies were taking turns ravishing a twink. Having them so close made my dick pulse. I concentrated on the cock in my mouth.

    I loved dick. Worshipped it even. And this was a good one. Slurping and sucking, I enjoyed every moment I was gifted to spend with it between my lips. The guy filling my mouth and riding my tongue gripped my head and pumped his hips. I held steady and let him fuck my face.

    He thrust increasingly deeper until I might have been choking if I wasn’t such a cock slut. Gag reflex—nonexistent. I swallowed around his cock while my throat received a battering.

    Slipping from my sloppy mouth, he touched my chin, and I stood. He kept control of my face as he kissed me. My hole clenched and released as he turned me to face the wall.

    His possessive hands made quick work of my pants. He stroked appreciative fingers along the elastic of my jock strap, then migrated to my tight dick and gave it a hard squeeze.

    I sucked in a breath and reveled in the pain his grip caused.

    “PrEP?” he panted in my ear.

    “Fuck, yeah.” I tipped my ass, hungry for his cock. I wanted to be dripping with his cum. Have it adhering my ass cheeks together as I sought out my next mark.

    He growled and slapped my ass. One hand gripping my hip, he brushed his cockhead up and down my crease as I placed my hands on the wall. He moved his hand from my hip and went in search of my hole with his thumb. He found it and caressed my tight ring.

    “Just your cock,” I said over my shoulder. I wanted to feel the burn. Even so, I was glad when the guy retrieved a packet of lube from his back pocket and coated his dick and my hole in it.

    I stepped closer to the wall to brace myself and whined and swore as he jammed his cockhead into me. He was a gentleman and held still for a moment, allowing my body time to adjust.

    When he eventually moved, he didn’t stop until he was fully seated. He bit down on my shoulder and panted across my skin. As he drew back, he clung to my hips, then snapped forward, causing my body to clench. On his next withdrawal, I took a deep breath and relaxed.

    An easy caress turned into an aggressive hammering while he grunted and cursed in my ear. I held firm, keeping my ass tipped, but failing to keep my chest and cheek from colliding with the wall. The surface felt cool in contrast to the heat and humidity of the room.

    “Fuck,” he muttered, half-crazed sounding. I bit my bottom lip, imagining the sight of him losing himself in me. Someone stroked my outstretched arm from wrist to shoulder. Then traced my ribcage with his fingers. Not my guy. One of the daddies that had been consuming the twink.

    I checked over my shoulder. The other daddy was being greedy, the young willowy guy’s back plastered against the wall. They didn’t look like they wanted to share.

    I repositioned my hands, my entire body being jostled with each forceful thrust that nearly shook me off my feet. The sound of our flesh slapping together joined others. My pants pooled around my ankles made it difficult to spread my feet far enough apart to support myself.

    The daddy kissed my shoulder. I tipped my head toward him. He sealed my lips with his. His tongue swept into my mouth, almost distracting me. My cock definitely took notice.

    My guy’s hands slid to the front of my thighs, and he increased his pace, splitting me wide open, pounding my prostate. The daddy swung under my arm until he was in front of me. A single kiss then he squatted in the small space that I increased by shuffling my feet back.

    I groaned as he stripped my jockstrap away and pulled my hard dick into his mouth. The added stimulus was almost too much. I closed my eyes and soaked it all in.

    My ass filled. My cock in the velvety warmth of a talented mouth.

    I was in heaven.

    My balls tightened and my dick felt as if it was too big for my skin. The daddy cupped my sacs and fondled them, then pulled down hard, stretching them.

    When he squeezed, I lost it.

    I shot stream after stream of cum down his throat. Each spurt propelled by my guy’s hammering thrusts. He swore in my ear as my channel tightened down on his cock.

    He nearly lifted me off my feet as he crashed hard against me. The daddy got out of the way, letting my spent cock slip from his mouth. He stood beside me, kissing me while my guy forced my body to collide with the wall as he pumped me full of his cream.

    I imagined each injection reaching high into my guts, fully breeding me. He played with my nipples as his hips slowed then stopped. He withdrew his cock from my slippery hole. I pushed out until his cum drooled down my inner thigh. I loved to spend my night decorated in it.

    His wouldn’t be the only cum in me tonight.

    I was left to recover on my own. My guy and the daddy headed for the door toward the rest of the club. I adjusted my jockstrap and hauled up my pants. Before I had a chance to make it to the door, a hot guy approached me and cocked his head toward the wall I had just vacated.

    I nodded.

    Sure, what the hell?

    I could grab a drink later. I sank back into my happy place as the new guy squatted behind me and rimmed the recent deposit of cum right out of me.

    He must have been watching.

    God, I loved my life.


    PROMISCUOUS BOY; Copyright © 2025 by Gavin E. Black


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  • Mark Stevens Has Car Trouble – And Gets Help From A Daddy

    Being totally exhausted, I laid there with Paul and his son Doug in their RV bed for about an hour. I finally left the truck stop to get on my way to see my Susan. I still had about two hours to go, which gave me a lot of time to think about where my life was heading. Once I arrived at her apartment, I took a quick shower to clean up after all the gay sex with Paul and Doug. I didn’t feel like fucking with Susan, even though I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks. There wasn’t much I could do to get hard again after getting off with Doug and Paul a few hours earlier. 

    Over the next few nights, Susan and I fucked several times. It was good, but I realized what made it good was that I imagined I was with a guy every time I was dumping cum in and out of her. One night it might’ve been teenage Brian that I was thinking about — my first gay fuck back at my college summer job. Or sometimes I imagined I was fucking Susan’s dad, or my own dad as I had done before. I pretended I was in a man’s cunt, or a boy’s pussy instead of hers every time I came in her. And every time, I shot more cum than I ever had with her or any other woman. Right now I was having to admit to myself that my teenage boy fuck with Brian, or my fuck with my father was more important to me than anything she could give me. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop the feelings I had. The gay feelings. The feelings of wanting to be with men, instead of women.  After a few days, I knew it was time to head back home to spend some time with my father to figure it all out.

     To give me a little additional time to think about all of this, instead of going south on I-75 and then west on I-70 towards Indianapolis, I decided to take a scenic road through the countryside. Rural Indiana is a good place for a scenic drive, if you want to get off the interstate. Or just get off in general! A lot of secluded places to pull off and beat your meat.  

    If I decided to pull out my cock for some self-pleasuring, I wouldn’t have to worry about truckers looking down into my vehicle to see what I was doing like they did on the interstate. Although, I guess I didn’t really mind them watching me jack off all that much.  It kinda turned me on. 

    Anyway, that’s exactly what I did. My cock was so hard and I was so horny thinking about my dad’s cock again. I unbuckled my belt and slipped my pants and jockey shorts down to my knees. I loved the look of my smooth, sexy legs.  I almost wanted to fuck myself.  It felt good to grab my cock, rub up and down, and pleasure myself. I kept tissues handy to clean up any messes.  I’d done this many times before in my car driving down the interstates. But for some reason my cock was harder than ever that night. It was already leaking precum.  I needed to pop it off to relieve the pressure.  After a few minutes of slow stroking – and just when I was about to release a giant load of sticky cum – it happened. 

    My car started sputtering, the engine shut off, and I had to coast to the side of the road. I looked down at my dashboard. I was fucking out of gas! WTF. Even though I had filled my tank at the truck stop where I met Paul and his son Doug, I forgot that I siphoned some of the gas out of my car to fill Susan‘s tank at her apartment. Now I’m out here on this pitch black night with no gas. And the real disaster? I was looking down at my phone and saw that I had no cellular service to call for help. That’s great. This is what I get for not taking the interstate home. I knew the next town with gas at this time of night was probably 15 to 20 miles away and I sure didn’t feel like walking. And like they say, where’s a cop when you really need one? I have AAA, but I had no way to contact them without cell service. Fuck. 

    Just when I’m wondering how long this is going to be before someone comes along to help on a dark, desolate road (and knowing that a lot of people are too afraid to help in this day and age), I saw a pair of headlights coming towards me. Even though I was frantically waving for the person to stop, he or she kept going. I understand that on a dark road late at night. I’m not sure I would stop to help someone either. You just never know. It’s dangerous, or can be. I was hoping they might at least let someone know I was stranded when they got to a place where they could make a phone call. But I had no way of knowing if they would do that.  

    But of course that was just a hope as two more cars passed by and just kept going like the first one did. Three cars in 30 minutes? This did not bode well. It was another 20 minutes later before another vehicle came into view. This time I got lucky — unless of course he’s a serial killer. But at that point at this time of night, on a mostly deserted road, I didn’t have a lot of options. The vehicle went slightly past me, slowed, then stopped, and then backed up to where I was. The guy got out of his large SUV and walked back to where I was. Ad he got closer, he asked me if I needed some help with a mechanical problem, or a flat tire. It was too dark for him to see anything really. 

    “No, believe it or not, I just ran out of gas. Can you believe that? I’ve got AAA, but I don’t have any way to contact them, as I don’t have cell service out here. So I was just hoping someone would come along and give me a ride to the next town so that I can give AAA a call. They’ll get me some gas and bring me back here.” 

    “Son, that could be a long wait out here. I’ve got a 2 gallon gas can. But, it’s completely empty. I can drive you into the next town, get you some gas, and bring you back here to get you going again.” 

    “Well sir, I appreciate the offer. But that’s a lot of your time to go 20 miles there and 20 miles back, plus the time to fill up your gas can. If you wouldn’t mind just driving me to a phone somewhere, I’ll just have AAA pick me up and have them bring me back here with some gas.” 

    “I don’t mind. Really. AAA, they’re good. But it could be a few hours before they get to you. They’ve had a lot of calls on south 75 today. I’d hate to see you wait 2-3 hours out here in the dark all by yourself.” 

    He had a point. My dad has had AAA ever since I was a kid. Always reliable, but there are times when we’ve had to wait hours for a truck to get to us. 

    “Well, yeah, I know the wait can be long sometimes. If you don’t mind doing all that, that would be great. I can buy the gas with my credit card, but full disclosure, I don’t have any cash to pay you for your time and trouble.” 

    “Oh hell. I don’t mind at all. I’ve been in the same situation myself. Out of gas in the middle of nowhere and usually with no cash. OR a credit card. Somehow I always found a Good Samaritan to help me out. What goes around comes around. Someday you can help someone in a similar jam. Hop here in my SUV and let’s get you some gas and back on the road. My name’s Tom, by the way.” 

    “Nice to meet you Tom. I’m Mark. I truly appreciate the help. But you have to give me your mailing address before I can accept any help. That way I can send you some money to cover your time and your gas to run me back and forth. Like you said, who knows how long I would have to wait for AAA to get here. I want to make it right with you Tom. You are saving me in more ways than one. Please let me have your address, so I can pay you back.” 

    “Seriously, Mark, don’t even give it a second thought. I was just out on an evening drive to look at some of my crops and a few head of cattle that I have. My wife is over at her sister‘s in Ohio for the week. So, I’m in no hurry to get back home tonight. So, where are you headed? 

    “Oh, I just left my fiancé‘s apartment in Dayton. She’s going to college there. I just decided to take the back roads on my way back to see my parents in Indiana. It’s a pretty drive through here – when it’s not dark – and I’ve done it many times before. I’ve just never run out of gas before. I didn’t realize how little traffic there is on this road at night. And I didn’t realize how freaking dark it is out here with no moon. It’s DARK! I’m very fortunate that you came along and stopped. A few cars drove by before you did and none of them even slowed down. I understand why people wouldn’t want to stop to help on a night like this. I get it. But I’m sure glad you did. Much appreciated, And I will pay you back, Tom.”

     “Not a problem Mark. There’s a Shell station up here in about 20 miles. We’ll fill my gas can there and get you back to your vehicle and get you back to see your parents. That’s nice that you want to go back and see your parents. Not a lot of kids your age like to do that as much as they should. Are you going to college too? 

    Yep, yep finishing my last year. Can’t wait for it to be done, although there are a lot of things about it that I’ll miss. A lot of good experiences. Yeah, and I’m still close to both my mom and dad.” 

    If he only knew how close I am to my dad, well…won’t go there. 

    “So, you are a farmer and a rancher, too. Those occupations always interested me. But being a city boy, I don’t know much about either one.” 

    “Well, I’m more a manager of both these days. I have two sons about your age that do most of the physical work. I still help out when I’m needed – when we’re really busy. But I leave most of the actual farming and ranching to them. They are good boys. I’m really proud of them in so many ways. I love them to death. They both have their degrees, but they came back to farm.”

    Even though it was still very dark outside, when I looked over at Tom, I could see enough of him from the dash lights to know he was a nice-looking man. Forty-eight to fifty years old. Maybe fifty-two, no more than that. My dad‘s age, or maybe a few years older. I imagined him with an attractive wife, his two sons, maybe a daughter, or two. All helping him on the farm. He goes to church every Sunday morning with his schoolteacher wife. Not the kind you’d want to jump. Well, maybe the kind you’d want to jump, but not the kind that would want to be jumped by a 22-year-old college kid. That didn’t keep me from thinking about jumping him though. No harm in fantasizing, right? 

    “When we get to the Shell station, I’ll pull into a pump, you can fill up the gas can, and we’ll get back on the road. I think I’ll get something to drink while you’re pumping gas. Anything I can get you while I’m in there?” 

    “No, I’m good. Thanks Tom.” 

    As he started to walk inside the store, the lights gave me a very good look at him. A tight body in some snug-fitting Levis wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt that barely contained his biceps. I didn’t notice that in the SUV, but I sure did now. Very fuckable. 

    The pump clicked off before Tom came back out of the store. I just set the gas can back in the back of the SUV and went back to sit inside. A few minutes later, he came back out with a couple bottles of water and we were on our way back to my stranded vehicle. 

    On our 20-minute drive back, Tom seemed a little quieter than he did earlier on our way to get gas. Like he might have something on his mind. But I figured if he wanted to talk that was more up to him than me. I did offer him to pay him several more times on our way back because he had at least an hour invested of his time, not to mention the fuel he burned to take me there and back. But he continued to insist that he didn’t want anything for his time and trouble. 

    Once we got back to my vehicle, it was still dark. Pitch black. I got out, went to the back of the SUV. Got the gas can. I opened my gas cap put the nozzle in and started pouring in the two gallons which would be more than enough to get me back to the Shell station where I could fill up. 

    Just as I was about to finish getting the last few drops in my tank, I felt Tom standing behind me. Or, to be more precise, I felt what I knew was a stiff cock rubbing up against my ass. Holy hell, is this for real?  Not a cock inside a pair of Levi’s rubbing up against my ass. A cock already outside of a pair of Levi’s, through the open zipper, and pressing hard right into my ass. Sure, it felt good, but I was wondering if I’d met a psycho, or just some guy who wanted me to suck his dick.  Out here in the dark, I could suck his dick and still get murdered. 

    As Tom kissed the back of my neck and fondled my ass, he whispered into my ear, “You know Mark, as we were driving back, I got to thinking that maybe I do need a little something for my time and trouble. What do you think about that?  Would that be a problem?” 

    Without saying a word, I turned around and kissed him full on the mouth. I put my tongue in his mouth and worked to find his tongue.  Fuck, I was about to cum just from kissing him and his hands on my ass…and he hadn’t even touched my cock yet. 

    “What do I think about that, Tom?” I think you should drop your pants and let me see more of what you’ve got in mind for your boy here. That’s what I think about that Daddy.” 

    “Oh fuck Son, I was hoping you’d say that. Why don’t you drop down to your knees for Dad, take daddy‘s pants off, and give me a big, sloppy blowjob?” 

    While still kissing him and fondling his ass, I unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his buttons, and pulled his Levis down to his knees. 

    Tom was full commando. No underwear. None. Once his pants were down, all I could see was his cock, his balls, and some thick pubic hair around them. It was still dark, but I could tell his cock was big and fat.  I could feel the throbbing head of his cock in my hand. He was stiff. For me. He liked me. Obviously.. 

    “Put my cock in your mouth Mark.” 

    Hell, he didn’t have to ask. I was already on the job, guiding his cock to my mouth. At the same time, I was feeling up his ass and legs like you feel up a teen girl’s tits the first time. His ass and legs were so damn hot. Hard, round, firm, smooth. Perfect. Just the way I like a man’s legs and ass to be. I love an ass that feels like smooth, hard, tits.  His ass did.  I could tell from his ass alone that he kept in great shape. I really wanted to turn this guy around and get my lips, mouth, and tongue on his ass cheeks. And in them.  But I knew that would come soon enough.   

    Sucking this hot daddy’s cock on the side of the road had me a little bit worried, even though there wasn’t a lot of traffic that night. But it wouldn’t take much for someone to catch us, literally, with our pants down. Some county cop driving by catching me suck this guy. That would be my luck. Getting caught with a cock in my mouth wouldn’t bother me that much. Having it published in the local paper would. 

    At the same time, I did not want to waste this man’s sperm juice. So I started licking and sucking as hard and as fast as I could to make sure he came in my mouth before anyone came along. I also ran my fingers up and down his ass slit to make sure I got him off quickly. Fingering my ass always got me off fast, so I figured it would work on Tom, too. 

    “Oh fuck Mark, keep doing that. Keep fingering my ass. That feels great son. Daddy is gonna fill your mouth with cum any minute now boy.” 

    That’s when I put my finger further into his ass. He couldn’t handle that. He pulled my hair, grabbed my head and then held it tight against his cock as he filled my mouth with his cum. I swallowed what I could and let the rest leak out around my lips. He pulled me up off my knees so that he could lick his cum off of my face. 

    As he continued to kiss and deep throat me with his tongue he said, “Thanks Son. You got me off good.  I loved the way you did me. Dad needed that.” 

    “Yeah, I needed that too Tom. I didn’t realize running out of gas could be such a great thing. But what made you think I’d be interested in, well, that? I told you I had a fiancé.” 

    “Oh, I was looking for a hookup tonight long before I met you and you mentioned your fiancé. Whenever my wife is out of town and my boys are busy, I go cock hunting. I drive up and down these roads frequently hoping to find a stranded driver. It doesn’t happen very often. But when it does, I don’t pass up any chances, especially if the guy is hot. As I got up closer to you, I thought this might be my lucky day. I didn’t know for sure if you were into men, or not.”

     “So, when you looked at me, you thought I might be gay or bi?” 

    “Not necessarily, but I’ve had enough experience to know that a lot of guys your age when they feel my cock up against their ass, decide it might be worth a try. By the time I was your age I knew I at least wanted to taste another man’s cock to find out if I’d like it. Once I did, well, I’ve never lost the desire for men, or cock. It’s a bonus.” 

    I had to admit to myself that was exactly how I felt after I tasted Brian‘s teenage cock, I couldn’t get the thought of him or his cock out of my mind. I had to have Brian again, my father‘s friend, or my father…someone’s cock.  Quitting wasn’t going to be an option. Feeling a man’s cock in me, or my cock in a man’s cunt, is something I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of.

    “Tom, when I felt your dick rubbing against my ass, I wanted you so badly. I wanted your cock in my mouth. I wanted you to cum in my mouth. When I pulled your pants down and saw you not wearing any underwear, I almost came before I even put your cock in my mouth. You have a great body Tom. Fortunately, no one came by before I was able to get you off.” 

    “Yeah, Mark, but we’re not done. Cumming in your mouth was terrific. But, I want to fuck you tonight. I want my cock in your ass. There’s a little picnic area up the road. One of those where there’s a tree like falling on a picnic table. One of those kind of small rest stops. We could drive up there and I don’t think anybody will bother us. What do you think? A daddy/son fuck before you have to go home?” 

    “Fuck, yeah Tom, I’d love that. It’s pretty dark. I don’t think anyone would see us. And we’ve got some time.” 

    I drove up a mile, or so, to the little picnic area. I got out of my vehicle and went over to his larger SUV. He had already folded down the second and third rows of his SUV to make room for a large air mattress, clean sheets, pillows, the whole works. We both jumped back there, closed all the window shades, and then got naked. He stripped me and I stripped him while touching every part of his sexy body.  And we started kissing like teenagers. I fondled every part of his body. His cock, his balls, especially his perfect ass. For a man his age to have an ass like that…well, I hope I have an ass even close to that when I’m his age. 

    “Mark, I’m sure you’ve been fucked before. And you want to be fucked again. You make that pretty clear. How do you like to do it…missionary style or doggy style?” 

    “I like to be looking at my man when he fucks me Tom. Put me on my back, spread my legs, lick my pussy and fuck me like a whore. That’s how I like it Tom. What do you like? “ 

    “Oh that’s perfect Mark. That’s exactly how I love to fuck my boys. I like to spread their legs get my fat dick in their pussies. I kiss their cunts and then slide my cock into them. They love it.”

     “Kiss me Tom.” 

    And he did. He spread my creamy white legs as far as he could. He went down on my cock with his lips, went down to rim my ass, and then started fucking me. Damn he was good. I don’t know how long he’d been fucking men, or his own sons, but he for sure knew what he was doing. I’m guessing his sons liked it as much as I did. I grabbed the roundness of his ass, spread his ass cheeks apart, put my finger in his crack, and pulled him into me. 

    “Oh, son, I feel so good. Love your daddy. Put your fingers in my ass. Finger-fuck my ass boy.”

     I felt him push into me as far as he could go. Up to his balls. His cock filling my ass perfectly with every thrust. I buried two of my fingers into his ass as far as I could push them. I loved the feel. So did he. Obviously he had done this many times before, but he treated me like I was his first lay. 

    “Mark, you’re making me feel so good. Keep fucking my ass with your fingers, son. Oh fuck Mark, I can’t hold this very much longer. Are you close baby? I want you to come with me, son. Cum for daddy.” 

    I couldn’t hold it any longer. I was coming. I couldn’t hold my juices even though I wanted the sensation to last a lot longer. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel his throbbing, pulsating cock go off with his dad juices filling my cunt. 

    When he pulled out of my ass, he leaned down to kiss me. Then he moved his face down to my cock and ass to lick up all of the cum that was running out of my cock head and asshole. His own cum coming out of me. He was hot and wanted to eat his own cum that had been in me. Fuck that was hot seeing him do that. When he moved up to share his cum that was just in me, I knew we still could not be done. I needed my cum in him. I needed to fuck my daddy.

     “Tom, get on your knees and elbows for me. I want to fuck your ass before we’re done here.”

    He knew what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. I helped him get up on his knees and elbows. I spread his beautiful ass cheeks with my hands and then I started rimming his slit. I was determined to rim him in a way that he would never forget and that’s what I did. I opened his white ass cheeks as far as I could, and then I buried my tongue in his ass, as far as I could, I had him moaning like a teenager – not like a dad. I loved rimming him, and he loved my tongue. He begged me to put my tongue in his ass. Deeper. I put it in deeper each time. I was fucking his asshole. I was fucking his ass with my tongue, not just rimming his ass. I was fucking it and he loved it. I reached around to stroke his cock that was rock hard again. Feeling how hard he was made me even harder. I finally pulled my face away from his ass as I knew I had him wet enough to fuck him. I mounted him. I mounted him like a male dog fucks a bitch in heat. I got the head of my cock up against his ass and pushed it in. Hard. Like I was raping him. Raping my dad. I was making sure he would never forget how it felt to be fucked by me.

    The animal sounds he made, made me think I did it right. 

    “Oh fuck Mark, fuck my ass, fuck my ass. Keep raping my ass son. No one has ever fucked my ass like this. Fuck me, fuck me, son. Fuck your daddy.” 

    When he said those words, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot whatever cum I had left into his asspussy I could feel him squirting his own cum, onto my hand. I collapsed onto him and rolled over to hold him in my arms. We both kissed like we were in love. 

    “I love you, Mark. That was great.” 

    “I love you too, Tom.” 

    “Call me Dad,,,you’re one of my boys now.” 

    We stayed together for another hour holding each other, kissing and fondling our half-hard cocks. I had to get on the road to see my own dad, again.  It was going to take some real dad-fucking to top this night with Tom. 

    We exchanged phone numbers. We’ve texted several times now talking about our night tighter.  We’ve even jacked off together over the phone talking about it. 

    There is no doubt I will be seeing Tom again. Soon.


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


  • Locked Cock Attracts Cock

    Some might frown upon my choice to live my life locked in chastity. It was a decision I made about five or six years ago, and one I do not regret. I’d not used my dick to top man or woman in over a decade and hadn’t planned on doing so ever again. My dick wasn’t too big anyway, six inches if I were being generous.

    I’ll never forget the first time I’d put my dick in a cage and heard that lock secure. There was something so comforting, so right. I knew right at that moment I’d be spending the remaining years of my life in lock up.  That first time was self imposed lock up. I’d put the keys in a block of ice to help me resist the temptation to unlock and jerk off. Looking back, that was a brilliant strategy.

    As the years progressed and I’d tried different cages and different keyholders, I discovered my truth. My holes and my tits were my sex organs.  I learned how to have the most intense assgasms and orgasms never touching my dick. I didnt even miss jerking off, but deep down I get the most pleasure using my body to help other men cum. That’s my purpose in life.

    So now all these years later in present day, I proudly wear my KINK3D Cobra cage each and every day. I’m not shy about it either, not even at the gym. I have a fuck buddy who holds my key and I’ve got no idea where he keeps it. It’s especially hot when he goes on extended business trips and takes the key with him. Knowing he’s hundreds or thousands of miles away while my little nub is covered up adds an extra thrill.

    One of the intended benefits of chastity, at least for me, is a heightened sex drive. I’m continuously horny. I’m always looking for dick. I’ve tucked away mine so I can play with so many others. When my need for dick becomes so overpowering I take to the gay hook up sites as a lot of faggots do.

    About two years ago, while on one of these quests, I met Rodney. We had chatted back and forth on this site and the idea of fucking another man in chastity turned him on big time. He asked if I had a “smooth pussy” and sensitive tits…check and check.

    Rodney checked all my boxes. 43, bisexual, Black, bald, scruffy beard, 6’, 200#, 8.5 inch cut cock, all top, and loved to be serviced. Rodney and I hooked up at least 12-15 times in the past two years and we definitely had an amazing chemistry.

    The inspiration for this story was our time together yesterday. He’d just returned from a week in Mexico with his family and was sex-starved. I’ve been locked up for so many continuous months, I was ravenous for dick. A perfect combination.

    I let myself into Rodney’s row home and was immediately hit with the smell of marijuana. I love seeing that man a little high. I stripped my clothes off nearby the door, a blue and red Pump! jockstrap framing my ass and covering up my lock.

    I walked to the living room to find Rodney sitting in his black leather chair wearing a white wifebeater which looked so awesome in contrast to his dark black complexion. His legs were spread, black basketball shorts still on, barefoot. His eyes were a bit red and there was a little smoke in the air.

    “Hey sexy”, he said when he saw me.

    “Hey Rodney. You look good.”

    “So do you, babe. Come sit with me.”

    Rodney patted his thighs and I placed myself on his lap.

    “Help yourself, my lighter is on the table.”

    I reached down to pick up his half-smoked joint and lit it. After I’d inhaled a couple of times I put it down in the ashtray.

    Rodney’s hands were caressing my smooth chest and when his fingers found my nipples, he started twisting and pulling on them, rubbing on them.

    “Ohhhhh yeah.”, I groaned. It felt so nice as I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy this stimulation.

    “Mmmm, I love your titties”, Rodney said. “They get so hard when I play with them.”

    I twisted around so now I was facing him and we made out while he continued to fondle my nipples.

    We paused for another hit between us and then I pulled his shirt off.

    Fuck, his chest was massive, solid, hairy.

    I ran my hands over his pecs. Rodney reached his lips to my right teat and started sucking on it. Gently biting down, making me moan. I wrapped my hands around his head and let him enjoy himself.

    Then he found the left one and repeated. Both of nipples were erect now, and wet. Red circles surrounded them from the force of his suction.

    “Let me see that ass baby”, Rodney said in his sultry baritone.

    “Hold on”, I said. I’ll be right back.”

    I went to grab my little bag which had a couple of toys and some lube in it.

    When I returned, Rodney was fully naked. His cock was almost hard, hanging nicely to my left over two golf ball sized nuts, a light coating of hair covered them.

    “Come over here, babe. I wanna taste that sweet hole of yours.”

    Rodney must have been watching lots of porn lately because what we did next wasn’t anything we’d done before. I was upside down with my legs off to each side, his face in my ass while I was throating his dick. It was a very different kind of 69, and I loved it.

    Rodney’s whiskers felt so good scratching my smooth crack. His wet tongue and mouth expertly working my hole open. My lips wrapped around Rodney’s cock so perfectly, I bobbed my head up and back, taking all his inches in. Rodney had me in heat, I was panting from how he ate my pussy out. When Rodney is high, he could do that for hours. We slowly and sensuously stayed in this position for more than thirty minutes. By then his balls had been thoroughly washed by my tongue and the flavor of his sweet nectar was oozing from his slit.

    Rodney knew my hole was prone to assgasms from experiences in the past. My entire body shudders, like mini tremors, and a small release of cum drips out of my slit and wets my jock pouch.

    Rodney’s tongue swirled around the perimeter of my love hole and then his tongue darted in and out, that sent me into orbit. My first little mini-gasm was glorious.

    I was hyperventilating, so I paused on cocksucking until calming myself down.

    “Fuck, I love it when you cum like that, sweetie.”, Rodney said.

    “Your tongue is unbelievable, baby. I love it when you make me cum like that.”

    We finished off the joint and Rodney hoisted me over his shoulder, grabbed the bag of toys and took me to his bedroom. I love how Rodney manhandles me like that.

    Rodney gently placed me on his bed, on my stomach.

    “Let’s see, what do we have here.”, he said.

    He spilled the contents onto his mattress and out came a bottle of poppers, lube, and two toys. One toy was a smaller butt plug to get my ass loosened up and the other was a much larger and thicker one with a slit at the top for either a cock or another toy to easily slide through.

    “These look like so much fun, sexy. I can’t wait to see your pussy open for me.”

    Rodney positioned himself behind me and once again brought his lips and tongue to my ass, making my hole long and want for something more.

    Rodney sensed I was ready and pulled me up by the hips. He coated his own cock with my lube and threw the poppers at me. I opened them up and after I closed the bottle, I reached back and spread my ass.

    “Please fuck me, Daddy.”, I begged.

    Rodney didn’t need me to ask a second time, his bricked dick slid past my opening like butter. I loved feeling all eight and a half inches of thick dick buried inside of me.

    I took a second hit and my fingers wandered towards my tits. I began to pinch and pull them while I bounced my ass up and back on Rodney’s fuck stick. With the pot and the poppers, I felt so free, so uninhibited, my faggot instinct taking hold.

    “Ohhh fuck yes! Ohhhhh fuck!”, I cried as I threw my hips back and squeezed down on that magnificent piece of cock flesh.

    “You like my big dick in yo ass, sexy?”

    “Ohhh fuck, Daddy, yessss”, I hissed.

    “You ready for me to stretch your pussy, baby?”

    “Yes…yes Daddy, please!”

    Rodney pulled his cock leaving my gaped hole empty.

    I took a huge hit off the brown bottle while he introduced the smaller butt plug which was still much wider than his cock, but not as long.

    Feeling my hole stretch to the width was so good. Rodney swirled the toy around my hole at its widest point making me crazy.

    “Push it in!”, I demanded.

    My hole clamped around that buttplug so perfectly. It felt divine. I once again reached for the nubs of my tits and pleasured myself. My mind was so free, drifting from reality.

    Rodney gripped the toy by its base and began fucking me with it.

    “Ohh my God! Ohhhh fuck!”, I cried.

    “I love seeing your pussy open up for me, baby. You’re so sexy.”

    With Rodney’s free hand he was massaging and smacking my ass as he drilled me with the toy. My cock was straining in its confines.

    I experienced a second assgasm and a little more cum spilled out of my locked slit.

    I was catching my breath when Rodney pulled the plug out and set it down.

    “One more to go now, baby. The big one. This is gonna stretch that pussy open for me.”

    (It was Topped Toys Forge Red 100 for those toy aficionados.)

    “Yes Daddy. I’m ready. Give it to me, please!”

    I was out of my mind now. The only thing that mattered was stuffing my pussy.

    Rodney lubed it generously and I took more hits. My asshole sucked that toy in easily, there wasn’t any give at all.

    “Oh baby, look at that. Your pussy is so hungry. So pretty.”

    Rodney was kissing and licking my ass while slapping the base of the toy sending vibrations throughout my body.

    “Ohhhh Daddy! That feels so good in my pussy.  Ohhh yeah!”

    Rodney turned me over to my back now and placed his hard cock on the indent of the toy and slowly pried himself inside. It was glorious.

    “How does that feel, Daddy?”, I asked.

    “Your pussy is on fire, sexy. So fucking good.”

    Rodney and I exchanged taking hits and while we felt its effects, we made out. Rodney’s cock slowly pushing in and out of my very stretched hole. Then he kissed down my neck and took a tit into his mouth and bit down hard on it.

    “Ahhhh fuck, ohhh fuck Daddy! Oh yes! Fuck my pussy, Daddy!”

    Rodney pulled me down to the edge of the bed, placed one leg each on his chest and shoved his dick back inside. Watching Rodney use my stuffed hole made me cum hard. My jock was soaked and some of the thick white cream permeated through the fabric of the pouch.

    I scooped it up and put it in my mouth looking into Rodney’s eyes.

    “You’re so sexy, baby. I’m gonna cum in your pussy. That’s what you want? You want Daddy to cum in your pussy?”

    “Yes, please, Daddy. Cum in my pussy.”

    “I’m gonna cum right inside you, baby. I’m gonna fill you up, baby.”

    “Ohhhh fuck!”, I screamed.

    The combination of that huge toy and Rodney’s cock was overstimulating. I came a second time when Rodney held me by the ankles and really tore into me.

    With even more cum to devour, the visual sent Rodney into orbit.

    “Here it comes baby. Just for you. Ohhhh fuuccckkk, ohhhhhh fuuuccckkk, ohhhhh baby! Feel me cumming in your pussy! Ohhhhh fuck!!!”

    Rodney fell on my chest after he unloaded and I wrapped my legs and arms around him. Rodney was breathing hard and laid atop me for a few minutes.

    When his cock slipped out, he peeled himself off of me and slowly removed the toy. Then he crawled next to me and spooned me, kissing my shoulder, caressing my nipples.

    “That was so good, baby. I love fucking your pussy.”

    “Thank you, Daddy. I love how you fuck me.”

    I thought I felt Rodney’s dick twitch.

    “Daddy, can I clean your cock, please?”

    “Yeah, if you want.”

    Of course I wanted. I lowered my face down to crotch level and before opening my mouth, I took in his scent. I inhaled deeply, letting the various smells hit my nostrils. Cum, sweat, musk, all of it was perfect.

    When I was ready, I stuck my tongue out and swiped the entire underside several times before taking it in my mouth fully. It was growing as I slowly made love to Rodney’s penis and balls with my mouth. Rodney sat up and smoked a joint while I worshiped his King cock.  Rodney passed the joint to me and I took a hit and resumed blowing him. The scene was so relaxed, no pressure, just one man allowing himself the services of one faggot.

    It was a long while, but Rodney’s cock was hard as stone again.

    “Take off your jock, baby. I want to see your cage when you sit on my dick.”

    “Ok Daddy”

    I slipped off the jock and set it to my side. It was still wet from all of my cum. Then I placed my knees on each side of Rodney’s waist, gripped his wet hardon and guided my hole over it until I was fully impaled.

    Rodney, reached up to pinch my nipples while I slowly rode it, bouncing up and down.

    “Your pussy is so wet, sexy.”

    “You make me wet, Daddy.”, I joked.

    Rodney pulled my head down to his and we kissed while he pushed his hips upward, bucking inside me.

    When we broke our lip lock, Rodney stuffed my jock into my mouth.

    I moaned over it, tasting my juices while Rodney impaled me.

    “I love fucking this pussy”, he hissed in my ear.

    Rodney then flipped me to my side, and I held my legs open when he slipped back in. His huge hand covered my cock cage, holding onto it like a handle.

    “I love feeling your cage, baby. So fucking sexy. I love how you cum with your ass. You’re Daddy’s sexy girl. I fuck your pussy and you cum, like one of my girls.”

    “Yes Daddy.”

    “But your pussy is so much better than theirs. I could fuck your pussy all day and all night, baby.”

    “Ohhh Daddy, yes”

    Rodney was high, he’d never really said anything like that to me before, but that was fine. I liked that he was using my pussy and loving it.

    “You want another load of Daddy’s cum in your pussy, baby?”

    “Yesss, please, Daddy.”

    Rodney flipped me again, this time on my stomach and he pressed his body onto mine, chest on back. I pushed my hole open and let his cock in, deep. I squeezed my hole closed and Rodney began to slow fuck me, bear hugging me against him. His hand over my cage.

    Rodney bit down on my shoulder, grunting and growling when he’d released his second load. His entire body went slack after the intensity of his climax, although he hadn’t let go of me.

    When he finally did roll over, I kissed his cheek, kissed down his chest and took his flaccid cock into my mouth for a second cleaning.

    “Such a good girl”, he whispered.

    “Daddy, I need to get going. Thank you for an amazing time.”

    “Anytime, sexy. You know I love that pussy.”

    I blushed as I dressed and gathered my things. Rodney was fast asleep by the time I left him.

    I was humming back to my car.

    The need for cock had been fulfilled…for now. With this cage on, it wouldn’t he long before I’d be on the prowl for more.


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