Author: admin

  • Ossip, Sascha, Piotr, Bob, Sergei, Vlodya, Nikolai, Mili, Alex, & Ivan

    Preface: We are in the Czarist era of stratified society just before life rises to the cusp of revolution. Gatherings around samovars in rich surroundings were their own excuses for pretexts and pretenses. What might have, must have gone on behind the cultivated glamor?

    DedicationTo a reader whose excited comments have offered me encouragement in the past – ClanManA3.


    “Ossip, why do you do what you do?”

    “You mean, get screwed by any guy with the money?”

    Sascha nodded, a sad look in his reformer’s eye. He bit into a lovely red apple from a basket nearby. Glanced at silk curtains, satin armchairs, oriental carpets, gilt-framed landscapes.

    “Simple. I love cock. Especially here, in my adorable ass. Hard cocks do a lot for me: promote muscle tone, increase capillary circulation, rev up nerve endings, promote prostatic discharge, provide pleasure two ways.” A ripe peach drew his attention. Caressed and sniffed its fuzz.

    So sensuous he was. Looked seductively toward his friend.

    “You mean – umm – back and forth?” Sascha almost choked, asking that. Spat out a black seed.

    “No. I mean for my visitor and for me. The small ones have their effect. Medium sizes satisfy by the very fact they are in the majority. Whoppers in girth or length – or both – reach special places the others only dream of.”

    An uneasy moment passed. They both took bites of their fruit.

    “Does it take long?”

    “For what? For them to get their rocks off?’

    “What else?”

    “Oh, you poor sap. Guys come to me for that, sure. When that’s the case, my job’s to find out whether they want a quick tussle or a comfortable ride. More than you can imagine, as I see from the look on your face, want to be treated sweetly. No one outside these walls shows them the affection I do, the way I do.

    “I know how, for example, to wash my men with warm, soapy sponges in our big tub. A massage of any part of a man’s body? My hands, my oils will ease away anxieties. Professional and domestic. If someone wants to be held and sung to, I know folksongs to sing softly in a man’s ear while snuggling him, or letting him snuggle me. Some want to talk more than to have sex, though I encourage that they move from the one to the other. Does them much good,” he laughed, “and boosts tips.” He gestured at the furnishings.

    Ossip paused, studying Sascha’s opaque face. “My god, you really don’t get this, do you?”

    “Not yet, although I’m getting impressed.”

    “I can give you a specific example of how valuable my services are. Listen, and don’t interrupt.”

    “All right, Ossip.”

    With a linen napkin, he wiped his jaw of lingering peach juice. “One of my visitors – let’s call him Piotr – came to me secretively. He always did because many people knew him. Love had claimed his heart. Love for his artistic nephew who I’ll call Bob, okay?”

    For the second time, Sascha nodded. His expression less milky.

    Ossip continued, “In absolute distress, Piotr, who was about fifty and Bob only nineteen, wanted my help, discretely, of course. Had to be as it still does. Wait for it. Don’t interrupt. I know what you want to know. Here it comes.

    “Piotr wanted me to coach Bob, who was scared of his own shadow where emotions were concerned. Big-deal family and all that. Sex? Only in the dark with his own hand, Piotr told me. All he’d done was to kiss Bob. Bob, shocked, kissed back, then broke down. Tears all over. He was a mess.

    “Now Piotr’s super-sensuous. Used to kiss like a maniac. Loved to fuck – me – and he’s good at it. Had a nice biggie always at the ready. But, once the love bug bit him, he only wanted Bob’s ass.

    “Bob dithered. Afraid and all that. Piotr’d only had one lover that he spoke about, earlier in life, some guy named Sergei. Sergei was a bottom boy from the get-go, so Piotr just got in there whenever he could, but they had drifted apart years before. After Sergei, Piotr managed get-togethers with this cavalier or some other officer – he liked uniforms – or boys off the streets who wouldn’t know who he was.

    “Bob was embarrassed about me teaching him. He was a year older than I was, but champagne went down his gullet persuasively, you might say convincingly, and he let me tutor him. I made Piotr stay away from our proceedings, so Bob would be less nervous. His uncle intimidated the hell out of him – and most other people. But he was really shy, except around me. Piotr, that is.”

    Sascha’s apple core began to turn brown.

    “Anyway, he had this ‘thing’ about Bob and was going crazy with desire to top him. So, I fed the rather sweet fellow a line about how he didn’t really have to do anything much. Just turn over, relax, and let Uncle Piotr in. We practiced, not with my prick. No, no. I wanted him to want the real thing – Piotr’s. Won’t bore you with details, but I did bore into Bob with my dildos, session after session until he quite liked the whole idea. And, I’d always sing softly one of Piotr’s songs, None but the Lonely Heart, as I drove the point home. See? – conditioning of body and spirit.”

    Water in a porcelain bowl took care of Ossip’s peachy stickiness before a fleecy hand towel dried manicured hands.

    “Here’s where the story gets better. We finally were ready. Bob came in ahead of Piotr that day to be washed out and lubed up. Piotr arrived through a door in the back alley, witless with fright he might be seen. Dropped his drawers the moment he saw Bob waiting naked. Whoo! It was like two magnets the way they snapped tight to each other. Slobber went everywhere. Then Bob gave Piotr one of those knowing smiles I’d taught him – and turned over. His bottom was as pretty as any picture.

    “Piotr climbed on and schlonged in. Fucked that boy better’n he had me. Most times they made love, Bob took to humming None but the Lonely Heart. I was in the room except when extra precautions had to be taken over a super-secret state visit. Don’t look at me that way. It was Connie – Constantine Romanov – the fucking Grand Duke, you klutz! Had to make sure neither Piotr not Constantine crossed paths in our establishment. All curtains were drawn. Some lovely baubles by Fabergé came my way for making certain those arrangements never meshed.”

    “That’s quite enough. I take it that you understand me and my job now, that you realize I provide happinesses to others by my talents and skills, happinesses that would otherwise be impossible for them.”

    “Did Piotr and Bob live happily ever after?”

    “When they were under my care and supervision, a few hours each week brought highly ecstatic trysts to temper the rigid-system lives of both. Know what I mean? They were way up in the privileged classes. Anyway, disaster struck.

    “Our cholera epidemic wiped out Piotr just after he conducted his big, emotionally charged new Symphony – openly dedicated to Bob Davidoff. What might have marked a new beginning for the two lovers ended with poor Piotr’s death and massive state funeral only to be followed not too long after by Bob’s suicide. Poor dear simply couldn’t go on, despite being Tchaikowsky’s heir. The money didn’t make him happy. I think he missed Piotr’s big dick.”

    “And you’re somehow proud of that?”

    “Proud? Yes, of what my profession and experience allowed them to discover in each other – safely. They were genuinely happy.”

    A rap at Ossip’s door stopped Sascha from what he was about to say. 

    “Avanti!” Ossip called, using one of the Italian words he had learned from a lusty sailor (to whom, in return, he had managed to teach only “Nyet” and “Da,” with emphasis on “Da.”).

    “Hi. Am I interrupting?” The question came from a bright-faced, blue-eyed young man whose blond head covered in ringlets peeped in.

    “Vlodya, baby, come in. This is my friend Sascha. Sascha, Voldya makes his livelihood here, too. What’s up?”

    “Nikolai thought it’d be a good idea for you to check me out before tonight. You know, since what happened last week.”

    “Sure. Sascha won’t mind, will you, my friend?”

    “I guess not.”

    Boyishly small-framed, Voldya slipped in, went straight to Ossip, dropped his robe and, without blinking an eye, stood there naked. And cute. Really cute. Button cute.

    Blond pubes.

    A masseur’s skilled hands traced shoulders, waist, buttocks. and upper legs. “All healed up,” Ossip said. “And here?” he prodded Voldya’s not-so-tiny pucker, “No more blood?”

    The doll-like head turned, “Not after day three. Those balms and ointments were nice. Nikolai thinks I’m good to go if I’m careful.”

    “Is there a problem?”

    Voldya confided something not meant for Sascha to hear.

    Ossip’s face shriveled in disgust. “Not that dreadful monk?”

    More whispers.

    Ears strained.

    Vlodya donned his robe and, a passing hand waving in Sascha’s direction, slipped out.

    Cute. Real cute. Button cute.

    Blond pubes.

    The expectant look on Sascha’s face was met with, “You must go now. We’re bracing for trouble tonight. Don’t ask. Just go – and make certain not to speak of this visit to anyone.”

    “You didn’t tell me any of you was ever mistreated.”

    “Almost never, yet now and then a visitor wants to spank one of us. No harm in that.  It’s just sex-play. Our bodies are playgrounds for pay. Last week, a landowner – you know, the kind that used to have serfs he could take advantage of – big guy with a great, gray beard, Count somebody, brought in a wicked knout and laid into Vlodya. Nikolai and Mili heard the screams and rushed in before the knout’s handle was all the way up Vlodya’s ass.”

    “What happened?”

    “Poor thing, Vlodya was shaking and crying all night. We took turns; stayed with him.”

    “And?”

    “Mili sent word to one of our nicest regulars, Dr. Dahl, who came at once. He brought medical salves and talked to Voldya in his special, quiet way to put him to sleep. That man’s a wonder. He gets a freebie with Nikolai for the treatment.

    “When we were relieved, Mili wrote to Grand Duke Alexander, who loves Vlodya’s delicate blow-jobs, to ask him to do something about the Count. We here want peace, not war. Alex came over, took one look, left a small bag of rubles, and told us to care for his ‘darling.’”

    “Does that have anything to do with your monk?”

    “Alex alerted us that word in the back rooms of the palace was that Rasp…better not say the name…was tired of raping gypsy girls and wanted to try some boys – not those worn-out gypsy boys, some clean boys he could defile in the name of God. We may have to bar both doors against him unless we can get one of our wrestler friends – say, Ivan – to man the door. The monk’s not mad enough to challenge the imperial champ.”

    “You mean, Poddubnyi?” Sascha was incredulous.

    “Don’t blab that name around – not…any…place! Even the slightest mention of it by a dope like you could get you tossed in the Neva. Do I make myself clear?”

    Chastened, Ossip’s friend felt shame – that he had come to reform his wayward buddy, only to discover a carrousel-ride life, fruit galore, drink aplenty (not that he had been offered champagne, but still), and accommodation swanky as the Grand Hotel. Excitement! Adventure! Celebrities! Food! Fabergé trinkets!

    Excitement showed. Sascha stewed. Funny feelings simmered his stomach. As he thought, guilt shaped his face, clear as glass.

    “You want to tell me something?”

    “Ossip…I, um, want to ask you something.”

    “The something is…what?”

    “I know I’ve turned my nose up at you and what you do. I’m sorry. Will you accept my apology?”

    “Yes. So?”

    “How…can I…get into this…you know…your profession?”

    “You can start by putting that nose of yours down between my legs. Come here.”


    My history-inspired stories (and quite a few others!) invite your eyes, mind, and libido here at GayDemon.


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


  • My neighbor Ken

    A few months ago my next door neighbor left and shortly after, Ken and his family moved in. I thought he was very handsome from the moment I first saw him, tall with short blonde hair and a few grey ones, well into his 40s with an athletic build and a beautiful smile.

    There was something about this man I couldn’t resist. I run into him several times and he always smiled and said hello.

    One day it finally happened: I had a real reason to talk to him! An envelope addressed to him had been mistakenly delivered to me and I obviously knocked on his door instead of simply delivering it to his mailbox.

    Ken answered the door and I immediately was left speechless, I was not prepared for this: he was wearing athletic shorts (the short tight ones) and a tank top. He apologized and said he was working out.

    I was mesmerized by his beautiful green eyes and all I could do while he talked was stare at his full lips imagining them exploring my body.

    He introduced himself and seemed so friendly, we chatted about all kinds of things for about 20 minutes until his wife showed up behind him and I felt so awkward I cut the conversation short and left.

    After this our runs into each other we’re much friendlier, we chatted every time beyond a quick hello.

    I had my mind set: I needed to touch this man, I was devoted to my idealization if this really hot older man living next door to me.

    Until it happened: I found an excuse to bring Ken into my home… if he accepted to help me. So I went to knock on his door and asked if he could help me bring down a heavy storage bin that contained important documents I needed right away and couldn’t wait for my father to come home to help me. He smiled and said “Of Course!”.

    We have ladders and step stools but I hid them all and brought a chair so he could stand on to reach the bin which I had previously moved and placed behind several other things… I offered to hold the chair as he made his way up and there it was, his big bulge right in front of my face so close I could imagine it inside me.

    He reached the first item and handed to me, I put in on the floor and looked up to take the next item from his hands… it was all working out beautifully, I could feel my heart racing while I enjoyed every second of having this man so close to me.

    He brought down a box and before I could grab it he said it was really heavy and held it against his body. I had to take the opportunity, it was now or never so while my heart was racing I grabbed the box from the end closer to me and I wrapped my other hand around it touching his penis but the box was heavy so we moved together to try and stop it from falling and I touch his penis again.

    I put down the box and I noticed through his jeans that his bulge Han grown a tiny bit, something was happening there and I couldn’t help but stare at it. He noticed me and apologized while blushing, he said he was extremely sensitive in that area and didn’t mean to offend me.

    This was working out better than I had anticipated, I had this man in my bedroom, I touched his penis twice and it has getting hard!

    I said to him that I wasn’t offended, that I in fact was gay and I “apologized for staring at his penis, that I didn’t mean to disrespect him of make”, he said it was ok.

    He finally reach the bin I had asked him to get for me and Without thinking I carried my face on his bulge, it was so warm I was immediately turned on.

    Ken did not move, he did not say a thing but his penis did all the talking, it got hard and I pulled it out, started giving him a blowjob while he started moaning softly. I had imagined him having a bigger penis bug it didn’t matter much, I had this man in my mouth and it was all I could think of.

    After a few minutes that felt like an eternity he gasped for air and said he was unable to ejaculate, it would take him too long but if he didn’t, his penis would remind hard and he had to return to his home.

    … it all happened…

    I fantasized so much about this man, I lusted over him for so long that I couldn’t help it, my body trembled and I exploded within minutes of feeling his penis inside me, all I could this of was him inside me, even though his hard pink penis was smaller than I normally look for it was terrific.


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  • Naval Tradition II: College Years

    Norfolk, Christmas 2003

    I received a surprise package in the mail the week before Christmas. “LCDR Jack Grant” and a San Diego address were on the return label. I tore it open then and there to find a Navy coffee mug with the emblem of Jack’s ship. I texted him immediately and thanked him.

    Holt had taken off right after finals and I had the place to myself. It had been a quiet week so far, mostly working out and enjoying watching movies since classes were done. Jack’s present was a welcome break from my new routine.

    Later that evening, my phone rang as I was surfing the internet in my bedroom. It was Jack. The Lieutenant Commander and I didn’t talk regularly, but I had touched base with him at the start of semester. We had a complicated relationship. He was one of my dad’s best friends, he was an older mentor for me in dealing with the whole gay thing, and to top it all off, he and I had a sexual history. I loved talking to him though, and hearing his voice.

    “Merry Christmas, Jim.” Jack’s voice was smooth and made me smile as I set my laptop aside and reclined back into my bed in just my cotton shorts and a long-sleeve T.

    “Merry Christmas, sir… er, I mean… Jack,” I stuttered, grinning as I shoved my arm beneath my pillow, under my head. I could still imagine him in his Navy officer’s uniform – looking so handsome and studly in his short sleeve, summer whites.

    “Sorry to be calling so late, Jim. I’ll be traveling back to Indiana tomorrow and wanted to wish you a great holiday. How are you doing? The knee still bothering you?” he asked. We’d talked in November briefly, but I’d been pretty mopey then.

    “It’s getting there,” I said, as I looked down at my bare knee, shifting it as I examined it. “I can run comfortably on it now, the physical therapist says it’s looking a lot better.”

    “That’s awesome news, Jim.”

    “Jack… thanks for calling, checking in on me for the past couple months,” I said somberly, feeling guilty at how bitter I was the last time we’d talked.

    “Of course, Jim. Like I said, I’ll be a good friend when you need one.” His voice was sincere. I wonder if he could hear me smile over the phone. “I’m glad you liked my gift,” he added.

    “Thanks again, Jack. I loved it,” I said.

    “Bob did say you were a coffee drinker now, so I thought I’d get you one from the ship’s galley. So… you excited for Bob’s homecoming?”

    “Yeah,” I said as I tried to mask my excitement. “I’ve been to so many of his homecomings growing up, but this time… I dunno, I’m just excited to see Dad. Maybe it’s just because it’s Christmas.”

    “Bob’s been emailing and saying that he’s really looking forward to seeing all of you waiting for him. Said it reminded him of when you boys were, well, boys,” he said. “I’ll tell ya, Jim. There’s nothin’ like seeing loved ones waiting for you as you step off that ship.”

    I know that Jack had gotten off deployment in September and wondered if there was anyone to greet him at the naval base in San Diego. “I… I wish I could have been there for your homecoming, Jack,” I said. I kind of threw it out there as a half-joke, but with a bit of longing in my voice as well. Jack and I had had phone sex a couple of times, and I was feeling him out now. The Navy officer’s deep voice had a way of turning me on.

    Jack took the bait. “Aw, Jim. I would have loved to see you waiting for me on that pier,” he said, his voice matching my own longing tone. “Nothin’ like a stud waiting to greet an old sailor after months at sea.”

    I chuckled, thinking back to when he greeted me at the airport, smiling that handsome smile of his as we greeted each other. I’ll always remember the gorgeous specimen of Navy-conditioned masculinity Jack was. I know I wanted him at that moment. I wanted him now.

    “We’d go back to your apartment, and I’d have given you a homecoming like no other,” I said as I poured some more lust into my voice. My legs shifted, rubbing in the warm sheets as I felt my cock begin to stir in my thin, cotton shorts. I let my right hand run across my chest, my thumb brushing my nipple through the cotton shirt. “Welcome home, Lieutenant Commander Grant.”

    Jack growled over the phone. “Jim, I’d love nothing more than for you to be sharing my bed right now. Bob’s not the only sailor missing you.” He paused as I listened to his deep breaths, then he added softly. “Jim, I’m pretty hard here… you wanna?”

    I felt my cock gently bounce with excitement in my shorts as I was hard in no time. We were doing this.

    “Yeah,” I croaked in reply as I let my hand trail down my abs, digging into my shorts and finally gripping my solid shaft. I let a soft moan, and Jack growled again.

    It was strangely intimate: the LCDR and I didn’t speak, but we were both stroking off on other ends of the phone. It was like phone sex but different, just focused on our breathing and palpable presence on opposite sides of the country.

    I let my fingers rub and grip my shaft and head in just the right way. I was so achingly hard, and a stream of cocksnot started to ooze out my pisslit. I smeared the natural lube down my shaft as I felt my hole twitch. I shut my eyes, bending my knees as I felt the muscles in my core, glutes and thighs tighten in response to my puckering chute. I let out a soft and short gasp, eliciting Jack’s own approving, gravelly groan.

    I let my memory replay our coupling with my favorite details. I remembered laying back on Jack’s bed, his scent on the sheets, the warm light of the room, his perfectly muscular body over mine, the way this sculpted chest heaved beneath his blond-furred skin. I remembered his hazel eyes looking down at me and remembered the way his lips moved and jaw tightened as his officer cock slid into me. I remembered gripping his wide back, clawing at his flexed obliques and delt as I wrapped my legs around his tight waist. The head of Jack’s beautiful cock running over and across my joy button, making me grip him harder, making me beg for more.

    I relived those memories with Jack over the phone as I soon had my shorts bunched around my tensing thighs, my left hand alternating between stroking my dripping cock, fingering my balls, and lightly touching my hole. Our rhythmic breaths and low groans all mixing and reminding me what it felt like to lose my cherry all over again…. Jack fucking me with perfect precision… the buzzing pleasure rippling down my chest and up my legs… his built body on top of me, over me… the determined look on his perfectly handsome face, fucking me at just the right angle, just the right pace, wanting me to come getting off on his cock alone.

    I wondered if Jack was thinking of the same thing while he stroked off.

    I decided to break the silence. “God, I’m so turned on,” I hissed.

    Jack Grant’s voice croaked in a sexy baritone on the other end. “Yeah, me too, Jim. Hard as fuck.”

    “Jack…” I asked between gasps. “What are you thinking of right now?”

    I could almost feel Jack next to me as he answered. “Probably the same thing as you, sexy.” It was wild how in sync the Naval officer and I were at that moment.

    I tugged more feverishly at my dong, working it in full strokes now. “I’m thinking of when you fucked me that first time,” I said, savoring how hot it was to vocalize those words, even now.

    “I loved fucking you,” he growled with a bated breath that let me know he was flogging away at his dick too now. “…being inside you. Fuck, Jim. You felt so good… so perfectly tight.”

    “Damn,” I grunted. I almost came but somehow the near-orgasm just fed my pleasure as I continued stroking.

    It was as if Jack fed off my horned-up state over the phone. “Would you let me in you again, Jim? Let me fuck your hot ass?”

    This was sex talk but I felt a real challenge to his question. Our weekend hookup my senior year had been a one-off experience. This was our third time having phone sex, so there was clearly some lingering lust and sexual chemistry between us. But we hadn’t broached the idea of having real sex in the future. Jack was broaching it now.

    “Fuck yeah,” I grunted in reply. Any guardedness I might have about maintaining a platonic boundary with my Dad’s friend was out the window. I was too turned on. “I’d let you lift my legs up, dive your face right in… tongue my hole, make me beg for it, Jack.”

    “Damn…” Jack’s voice was heavy with desire now, like he was about to come. “I need to fuck you again, Jim. Let this Navy man take care of you, fuck you just the way you like.”

    “Oh, fuck… Jack… I, I…”

    I could see him, Jack here in my bed, on top of me, fucking me. In my head, my room filled with the soft and rhythmic slaps of sweaty, fucking flesh. I could see my blond-furred calves flexing on either side of his head, settling in the deep groove between his bulging traps and delts, my toes curing just behind his ears. His blond hair dripped with sweat, his bangs falling over his face just above his brow. His hazel eyes locked with mine in an intense stare, conveying all the need and lust he had for me as his shaved and chiseled jaw tensed with each thrust of his hips. A coat of sweat bathed this body, matting the blond hairs to his chest and abs, collecting and darkening as they fell into the defined grooves of his muscles – between his pecs and across and down the contours of his undulating abdominals.

    I jerked more, feeding off the interplay between my mental image and the sound of Jack on the other end.

    “I’d fuck my hot baseball stud, all right,” his baritone voice incanted, in apparent rhythm to his own strokes. “Fuck you deep… hard…”

    I jerked and imagined the thick patch of his dark blond pubes pressing into my ballsac as Jack fucked me with Naval precision, making me cry out at each jab against my prostate. I could see him grip my thick and meaty thighs, pulling me to meet every thrust. I imagined reaching down between my legs, past my bouncing and dripping cock, past my jostling balls, over my sweaty taint, my fingertips feeling the wet stretched rim of my hole, and finally Jack’s slick and hot cock, boing into me.

    I gripped my prick. One more good stroke, just over the tipping point. Fuck! I felt my body tense, my abs tighten as I felt all my pent up desire rip through my shaft as it swelled in my grip. I stifled my moans as I came all over my heaving abs and chest, Jack encouraging me with ragged breaths as I knew he was coming right along with me.

    “Damn,” he finally hissed as I felt like I had just sprinted a mile.

    My cock began to soften as I stroked out the final drops of cum and finally caught my breath. “I do miss you, Jack.” I said with a gentle yearn in my voice.

    “I miss you too, Jim. Glad you’re feeling like yourself again.”

    “Yeah… that nut was intense,” I chuckled nervously as my senses returned.

    Jack laughed too. “Guess we get a little carried away sometimes.”

    “We do,” I admitted. “But I’m enjoying it.”

    I could hear a brief pause on the other end, then Jack continued. “Jim… I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver on.”

    “I get it,” I assured him. “It’s just fun between us,” I said. “But I was on the level. I’d let you fuck me again if you ever wanted to.”

    “Well, that’s a nice Christmas thought,” he said, noncommittally.

    “It is,” I agreed.

    * * * *

    The McGraths had a late Christmas that year. Dad was scheduled to come home the 28th of December, and my brothers and I decided we would celebrate on the 29th and make it as real a Christmas as we could for him. I won’t say that the six months he’d been gone had passed quickly, but with school and my injury, my mind had been a little preoccupied.

    Matt was also on holiday break from Annapolis, and we’d been hanging out alone at Dad’s Norfolk house for a few days. It was great having a little one-on-one, brotherly bonding time again. We played video games, had movie marathons, and ordered take-out. It was cool to be just us, and I liked that the cadet part of him took a backseat to the brother I remembered growing up with.

    Matt and I went out and got a tree for the house. We spent Christmas Eve pulling decorations out of the basement and doing the best we could making the place look festive for Dad. But it was still odd waking up Christmas morning and it just being Matt and me in the house.

    Uncle Mike and Lisa called and wished us a Merry Christmas, and so did John, and Paul and Megan. Matt and I tried to treat it like any other day, knowing that we’d celebrate as soon as Dad got home.

    Matt and I picked up Paul and Megan at the airport the morning of the 27th, the day before Dad’s homecoming, and that night John was set to fly in as well. Back at the house, Megan and Paul insisted on a home cooked meal for Matt and me, as I’m sure they noticed the empty pizza and take-out boxes in the trash can. Matt and I left our brother and his wife in the kitchen as we made our final trip back to the airport. It was great to see John again and to meet his new girlfriend, Sarah. Matt and I noticed the look on John’s face as he introduced her, and it seemed like a more serious relationship than the previous girls he brought home to meet the family.

    When the day finally arrived, the McGraths were among the crowds of families, bundled up and standing in the freezing weather on the Norfolk Naval Station port. Fuck, it was cold, even for midday. I had on my heavy winter coat and beanie, hands in my pockets as I looked out onto the grey Atlantic with my brothers, awaiting Dad’s ship to appear on the horizon. Megan decided to go all out and made a nice handwritten sign on poster board that read, “Welcome Home, Captain Robert McGrath.”

    It brought back memories of my childhood in San Diego, waiting with the “Welcome Home” sign that me and my brothers had made. Wearing my Dixie cup hat and Dad’s dogtags, my neighbor holding me up to get a better view of Dad walking off the ramp…

    “There it is,” John said, pulling me out of my memories as he pointed at a small dot on the horizon. Sarah looked intrigued at what must have been her first Navy… anything.

    The ship got closer as Paul passed around a pair of binoculars he had brought. I always remembered feeling like it took hours for Dad’s ship to dock, and this time was no different. But I felt my stomach jump into my chest as I could finally make out the bodies of sailors on the rails. Paul was helping Megan look through the binoculars at the waiving sailors as the crowd around us grew more excited. Matt pointed out the Norfolk command, Admirals and their entourage there to greet Dad’s ship along with us. The ship finally docked as I felt myself grow more anxious.

    We watched the first sailor descend off the ramp as a young woman rushed out of the crowd and into the sailor’s arms – the first kiss, Navy tradition after a long voyage. Paul and Megan, and even John and Sarah, held each other close as the crowd burst into cheers. I looked at the couples around me and couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

    The throngs of families brimmed with excitement as the rest of the sailors with bags over their shoulders, began walking down the ramp – off the ship and onto dry land. We McGraths knew it was customary for the lower enlisted to depart first, so we knew we would not be seeing Dad so soon. We watched the happy reunions around us as Megan and Sarah began asking questions. Until finally. I felt my face light up as I saw Dad dressed handsomely in his dress blues and white cap, so masculine and full of authority. My brothers and I cheered as we watched the Norfolk command party greet Dad, returning salutes and handshakes.

    I felt jittery as we watched Dad walk towards us with a huge smile on his handsome face. He hugged each of my brothers in turn until finally reaching me. I lunged into his arms and hugged him with all my strength. I felt his breath on my neck as I held tight to him.

    “I missed you, Slugger,” he said against my ear, making me gently sob. “…missed you like hell.”

    Man, he was thrilled. He was clearly glad to be home and also glad to have all of us, his four boys, home for the holidays. We all helped cook up a massive Christmas dinner and saved all the family gifts for that evening.

    After all the dishes were done, there was wine and beer as the family took it easy before calling it a night. I stepped out of the living room where everyone had collected and went back into the kitchen for one more nightcap. I had just pulled a cold bottle out of the fridge as I suddenly saw Dad step into the kitchen as well.

    “I’ll have another one too, Jimbo.”

    I pulled out another bottle and handed it to him. We settled, leaning against the counter next to each other as he passed the bottle opener. I had a feeling it was time for a father-son chat. “Son, I have some news on my end,” he started. “Nicole and I have… well, we’ve broken things off.” I did wonder why we didn’t see her on the dock with us. I could see some pain in his blue-grey eyes, and I had the feeling Nicole had done a good bit of the dumping. Dad didn’t need me to remind him that deployments are part of the package when you’re dating a military man. I didn’t know the story, though. Maybe Nicole didn’t feel she could wait, maybe Dad’s deployment came too early in their dating, or maybe it was just unrelated.

    You’d think the jealous side of me would be elated, but I felt genuinely sad. “Sorry to hear, Dad,” I said. “You OK?”

    It was the sort of thing he’d ask me, and I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate thing to say to your father, but after the way we’d grown close over the years, I was really concerned for him.

    “I’ll be OK, Slugger. We were just looking for different things. I’m not looking to remarry, at least not in a hurry. And it was tough being away.” He took a sip of his beer. “You know, I’ve been real impressed with you through all this. Me getting out there and dating again. You’ve been mature about it, more than most sons would be. I appreciate it, Jimbo.” He was speaking plain and direct now, but I sensed the subtext, too. Dad was happy our sexual indiscretions last fall and spring hadn’t led me to be jealous.

    “Dad, I’d be a total jerk to be anything but supportive for you. You’re always there for me, I’m always gonna be there for you, sir.” I clinked my bottle against his.

    * * * *

    It did my mood a lot of good being home. I was still worried about my injury and wondering if my swing would recover after it. But being around family reminded me that there are more important things than baseball, even if sports was my main passion.

    My oldest brother John seemed to be particularly attentive to me, and come New Year’s Eve, he asked if I wanted to hang out. Dad had to be back on the naval station for the usual post-deployment process. Sarah had gone back to Chicago early for work, Paul and Megan had flown back to the Midwest on the 30th, and Matt was hanging out with his high school friends. It was a very warm day for late December and John suggested we go for a run along the beach.

    “Come on, Jim. Get dressed. Run time,” he said as he sat down next to me on the couch, dressed for a run in the brisk weather as he tied his running shoes.

    I looked down at myself and frowned. “Probably a good idea. I have already gained about fifteen pounds since my injury,” I said as I ran my hand over my midsection padding. “And I’m worried being home is about to add another five.” Sure enough, I was getting my freshman fifteen, only it was a year late, which was another reason I was in a funk. So I guess I was eager to get out and run off some of the food I’d eaten over the last couple of days.

    “Ha,” John said. “I didn’t know baseball players had to worry about their weight.” Of all the McGrath men, John and Matt had the most naturally slender build, whereas me, Dad, and especially Paul, have bulkier builds naturally. Now 25, John kept in shape and was a devoted runner. I was glad he was around to motivate me, now that my knee was good enough for it.

    “Not sure how many dudes want to go for a pudgy college kid,” I replied. OK, maybe I was wallowing in self-pity lately.

    John called me out on it as he stood up. “Cut the crap, Jimbo. I have enough gay friends to know they go for jocks, no matter what the shape or size. Now, am I getting your lazy ass off this couch or not?” It was funny, my oldest brother could be bossy, just like Dad.

    “Sir, yes sir!” I replied mockingly, glad to have this dynamic back in my life.

    The Virginia Beach boardwalk still looked the way I remembered it. And even with the colder weather, there were a number of walkers and other runners here and there. John and I shared a paced warm-up jog along the paved stretch, but my still healing knee didn’t allow me to keep up with him as he increased his pace. We had a good run, although in the end I had to take it easy with a three-miler and let John go for his longer distance. It just reminded me that I still had a ways to go before I was back to my previous physical condition. But I got a nice sweat going in my athletic hoodie as I stretched out on a park bench. I planted one foot on the metal seat as I reached for my toes, stretching my hamstrings, my breathing less labored, enjoying the 60 degree sunny day and the brisk breeze coming off the water. I thought back to the time I’d chatted up Kevin, the Navy petty officer, at this very spot. How I had the balls to do that as a high school kid, I’ll never know.

    It was weird how I missed my hometown. I felt cooped up growing up here, but looking back, I’d found it easier to find men to have sex with here, back before I was nervous about my ball career. I had to wonder if it was all worth it. Or maybe I just needed to find my confidence again.

    John rejoined me, smiling and pumped from endorphins, also sweating despite the colder weather. “Sorry to make you wait,” he said, catching his breath.

    “No problem, brother. Beautiful day,” I said as I looked back out over the water. It was the sort of breezy day that would have felt cold in April or October, but felt downright warm in the middle of winter.

    “I’ll say.” He stretched as I finally took a seat on the bench. After a couple silent moments, he sat down next to me.

    “Are you doing OK, Slugger?” he asked as we sat and watched the ocean.

    “What do you mean?” I asked, turning to look at him. His straight brown hair was still damp with sweat as he ran his fingers back through it, his similar blue eyes met mine with honest fraternal concern. I think he could tell I hadn’t been feeling like my best self lately.

    He shrugged. “The injury. School. Dating life. Anything. Everything. We don’t get the chance to talk much.”

    This was a new side to my brother, all right. I remember him being an angsty teen when he was still living at home – fighting with Dad after mom died and always angry at something. And I was the annoying little brother. But now, John seemed to finally take an interest in my and Matt’s lives. I felt almost like a little kid with my big bro looking out for me, something I didn’t quite get from him when he lived here in Norfolk.

    I sighed. “It’s been a tough semester…. I’ve been kind of depressed actually.”

    He frowned and gave my head a playful ruffle, making a mess of my damp blond hair and making me smile in return. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked, finally relaxing back in his seat.

    I nodded, and out came a litany of my insecurities. About playing baseball, about not knowing what else I wanted to do with my life, if I should have joined the Navy instead, about not being as smart, or as good at school as him, or Matt, or Dad, about negotiating the closet, about not having a boyfriend or even a real dating life. Of course I left out the bit about my fucked up sexual attraction to Dad and my incestuous experiences. But I talked about the rest.

    John listened and prompted me here and there. But mostly, he listened. Finally, he said, “I don’t have any wisdom for you, Jim. But sometimes, it’s good to get this stuff off your chest. You know, not keep it all bottled up.” I nodded in agreement as he sat back up. “That’s the best part of dating, actually. For all the ups and downs, I can always talk to Sarah, and she can talk to me. I hope you find someone like that for you, Jim. I really do.”

    I don’t think I fully realized until then how much I wanted it. I let my shoulders slump as I realized… I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted what he and Sarah had… Hell, I wanted what Paul and Megan had. I remembered the look they shared as they stared at each other. I didn’t want to be jealous, but I wanted that – I wanted a guy to look at me and want me for all my fucked up flaws. Sex was good, and to be honest, I could have used some more of that, too. But I wanted a special man, whatever form that took. I’d been repressing it because I had to. My eyes misted up a little, but I fought it back.

    Fortunately, John knew what to say. “I got a sixth sense about some things. You’re gonna get over your injury, OK,” he said as he let his hand clasp my shoulder. “And you’re gonna find someone to share your life with, Jim. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but wait. You’ll find him. Enjoy being a college kid in the meantime.”

    “I thought you didn’t have any advice,” I joked, my smile finally returning.

    “Smart ass.” He punched me playfully in the shoulder. “Whaddya say we go pick up something to grill for dinner tonight? It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m sure Dad would love a good steak.”

    “Yeah, sounds good.”

    * * * *

    I had a few days before I had to head back to Charlottesville. John had flown back to Chicago, and Matt had already taken off back to Annapolis. So it was back to just me and Dad in the house, just like before. Dad had resumed his duties and position on base and now that my brothers had left, he’d gone back to his usual serious, quiet mode. I did worry about him and worried about him being alone. Which was a weird thing because I was the one pining for sex, and maybe something more. And it was the sort of concern Dad always had about me – he was always gently chastising me for being too serious – but now I had an inkling of sympathy for what it must be like to be a single parent.

    I enjoyed our evening chats over dinner, but as I tried to read his stoic expression for a hint of sexual interest, I saw none. I knew things would have to be platonic and purely parental between him and me. At least for now. No sex.

    But that didn’t keep me from sneaking a look at his body when I could or from having strong fantasies pop into my head. Especially those early evenings when Dad would get home from base and I’d see him in his full uniform. I tried not to blatantly stare at him. But… fuck, did the Navy know how to make a uniform hug Dad’s chest in all the right ways.

    If anything, my cums were even more intense masturbating in my old room, knowing Dad was just a few doors down. I would be half naked in my bed, biting my lip and flogging my lubed prick. I had vivid memories of sucking Dad’s 10-inch, uncut cock on my knees, at his feet in front of him. In my frequent fantasy, I imagined him in nothing but his Navy combination cap on his head and his dogtags around his neck… sometimes with his formal, white gloves on. I imagined looking up at him with my wet, pink lips wrapped around his fat and veiny shaft, my tongue wiggling under the stretched hood of his foreskin, massaging his sensitive head as Dad groaned with a deep pleasure. He’d run his thick fingers through my tousled blond hair, telling me how much he loved the way I sucked and worshipped his cock. His massive, hairy chest would heave with each breath, the metal tags clinking in the deep hairy groove between his pecs. I loved the way his head would tilt as he watched me suckle on the paternal cock that made me, moaning as I drank up the steady stream of salty precum oozing into my mouth. His grey eyes and smile filled with an unbridled lust for me, his boy, his son. He’d announce his impending cum with a tightening of his strong jaw and lip. His fingers gently gripping my hair as he’d widen his stance, taking over my suckjob as he’d begin sawing his massive cock back against my throat, his muscular thighs delivering controlled but steady thrusts into my hungry mouth. I remembered how his cock would swell against my tongue just before he’d grunt out my name and coat my mouth with blasts of hot, salty thick cum. My dad’s cum.

    I heaved in my bed and enjoyed my fantasy, eyes shut and body clenched. I licked my lips as if I could taste Dad’s potent jism for real. My toes curled from a wave of pleasure-filled sensation that rushed down from my limbs, centering in my tightening ballsac before firing out my cock and painting my sweaty chest in white streaks. It always took a second for me to find my bearing after coming like that.

    After it was all done, I’d look down at myself and feel just a little perturbed and a little guilty. Dad’s 10-inch cock was just down the hall, and it frustrated me that I wanted it like I did. But after I cleaned myself up it didn’t take me long to return to my normal self. The edge taken off, I resumed my regular mentality as Jim McGrath, my dad’s son… acting normal around my father, as he seemed to act completely normal around me.

    * * * *

    My hand was all good and well, but I was pretty horny and my dick felt neglected. I wanted to get laid. Bad. That night, I had a good idea of where to go. I felt bad for my idea – for sneaking over to Rick’s when I knew he wouldn’t be home, for lying to my father that I was going over to see Rick and might even spend the night there.

    I drove to the ritzy part of Norfolk, stepped up to the front door and nervously knocked. Mr. Bryant seemed surprised when he answered the door. “Jim?” he asked, confused, but still happy to see me. He was dressed comfortably in a worn T and sweats, looking like he was enjoying a quiet evening alone at home.

    I stood anxious now on the porch, my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I tried to keep my composure. I’d gotten dressed for the occasion, with a button-down that now hugged my bigger body. While I had gained weight, my chest, shoulders, and arms were still very much enviable. I’d gone without an undershirt, spraying some cologne on and leaving an extra top button undone. I still had the cleft between my pecs that I was still proud of. My blond hair was freshly trimmed short on the sides and back, and was growing out to a neat inch on top – just short enough to keep the impending curls at bay. I made sure I looked well-groomed, with a clean shave and hair gelled before I left Dad’s house.

    “Hi, Mr. B,” I said timidly.

    He swallowed nervously. We hadn’t really talked since we fooled around last summer, maybe against our better judgment. “Um, Rick isn’t here. He’s down in Florida, at his mother’s.”

    I nodded. ‘Here goes,’ I thought. “Yeah, Mr. B, I know. I came here to see you, actually. I, um, wanted to ask you on a date.” My voice hopeful as I gauged his reaction.

    He smiled, a little amused. “You serious, Jim?”

    I wanted to sink into the spot where I was standing. But I decided to stand my ground. “Yes, sir. See, I’ve never been on a date with a guy before. And I know you’d never be serious with a young guy like me, but I would be honored if you’d go on one date with me. You know, as a favor….”

    “Wow,” Mr. Bryant answered, a pleasant surprise in his eyes and smile . I smirked. God, he was attractive. His sea blue eyes looked back into mine. In his normally dirty blond hair, the silver had started to come in just a little more over the last year, setting off his handsome features. “Um, well, come in first,” he said, stepping aside and ushering me in.

    “Yes, sir,” I said, stepping into the foyer, my hands still in my pockets. I stood nervously as the man shut the door and came round.

    Grinning, he stepped up to me, putting his hands on my arms as he appraised me. “You’re looking great, Jim,” he said as I felt his fingers grip the muscles of my arms, “…as always.” Then he leaned in, tilting his chin up. I met his lips, leaning down as I let my hand wrap around his waist. I kissed him, letting him lead me, guiding my tongue into his mouth as I felt his hands roam over my upper body. His mouth soft, his kiss slow but tongue-forward. You can believe I kissed him back as he dragged it out of me, as romantic as I knew how – cupping his neck, hand gripping his lower back as I pulled his body firmly into mine, letting him feel the effect he had on me. But I felt out of my depths here. I’d learned how to be a fully sexual man, even as other guys my age were lucky to get to second base with a girl, and yet I never had the chance to develop my romantic side.

    Mr. B didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he was just guiding me, leading the way in how to do it right.

    “How was that, Jim?” he asked as he pulled back, hands feeling up my chest.

    “Perfect,” I said, grinning as I held his waist.

    His cheeks flushed red. “You know, I’m a real lousy Dad to be going on a date with my son’s friend. But if you want to….”

    “Oh, I want to, Mr. B,” I said with an eager nod. This time leaning in to take initiative with the kiss. His lips oh-so eager and inviting. He tasted sweet but mellow, a flavor all his own. God, I could do this all night.

    We started getting into it. Too into it, probably, ‘cause I got the sense that we both wanted sex, and I felt my now hard dick rubbing against his through our clothes.

    “Easy there, Cowboy,” Mr. B said as he pulled his lips from mine, his hand on my cheek as he grinned at me. “We got all night.”

    “Yessir,” I smiled timidly, happy to be chastened by this older, more experienced man.

    “What did you have in mind for our date?” he asked as his hands roamed over my shoulders.

    I smiled, holding him tight and close to me. “If you’ve not had dinner, sir, I could take you out. Or to a movie. You know, like a normal couple.”

    “Let’s start with dinner and see where that goes,” he gave my chin a little nudge. “Give me ten minutes to get ready?”

    He already looked like a million bucks, but I nodded yes. I reluctantly let him go as he disappeared down the hall while I sat in his living room, giddy and excited like a boy on prom night. This was weird all right, but I didn’t care. My first date with a guy at 20. Even if Mr. B was humoring me, this was real enough for me.

    I looked up when he stepped back into the living room moments later. I let out a slow whistle as I took in the sight of my date for the night. He’d combed his dirty blond and silvering hair. He put on a fresh button-down and sport coat, showcasing his toned and lithe body – a nice pair of slacks on his waist and loafers on his feet. “Ready?” he asked, adjusting his cuff.

    “Yes, sir,” I said as I stood up and stepped towards him. “God, Mr. B, you look so handsome. Perfect.” He was gonna get sick of me saying that word, but it fit. I made the man blush.

    We walked out the door and to my Civic.

    “I should have you over more often, Jim,” he said as he slipped into the passenger seat of the car. “You do an old man’s ego good.”

    I turned the engine and asked, “How old are you, Mr. B? If you don’t mind my asking.”

    “49.” He seemed embarrassed to admit it.

    “I feel honored, sir.” I said with a grin. “I can’t imagine a hotter guy to have my first date with.”

    That made him smile. Yeah, maybe he was humoring me. But I couldn’t help but lavish attention on him.

    I’d thought of him as a naughty fling last year, but now I interacted with him on a different register. As we drove, the conversation seemed to flow naturally – asking him about himself, his work, his life. He talked a little about his divorce, confirming my suspicions that it was his attraction to men that had ended his marriage. We got a booth at a decent, mid-price Italian restaurant in town. The place was not busy, the lights were dim, the music was low, and it was easy to forget that we weren’t alone. I’m sure we looked like father and son, and the idea gave me a perverse thrill. Particularly when I felt Mr. B kick off his loafer and run his toes along my ankle.

    “You got some major game, Jim McGrath,” he finally said with a twinkle in his eye.

    I leaned forward on my elbows as I couldn’t help but get a cocky smile on my face, which made him laugh. “I know you’re not looking for anything serious… not with me,” I said. ” I’m having the time of my life. Just having dinner with you. Really.”

    “I’m enjoying it, too,” he said with a soft smile. “But no, Jim, I’m not looking for anything serious. I mean… you’re my son’s friend after all.”

    “Yeah,” I chuckled as I looked down at my empty dinner plate. “This is pretty crazy.” The whole thing was absurd. I’d known Mr. Bryant since I was 16. I’d always thought he was hot, but didn’t really think much of it until last summer. Now I was on a date with him – my first date.

    “You cannot say a word about this to Rick,” he laughed.

    “I won’t,” I said, letting the seriousness seep into my words.

    He smiled with a little guilt, and I guessed he didn’t know what to say after that. So I changed the subject and soon we were back to making small talk again.

    I didn’t know what to expect when I drove him home. But as I pulled up in front of the house, Mr. B looked at me. “Thanks for a terrific evening Jim. I mean it.” He leaned forward, across the console and we were immediately kissing. Somehow, even more softly than before as his lips writhed against mine, his tongue coaxing my own to kiss him gently. It went on beyond a peck. It was a soulful, ten-minute kiss as the car filled with deep breaths and soft moans.

    He was breathing hard when we broke, his hand gripping my neck as I’m sure I was lost for breath, too.

    “Want to come in?” he asked sheepishly as his fingers caressed the base of my neck.

    “Oh yeah,” I said, meeting him in another kiss before turning off the car.

    “No offense, Jim,” he said as he ushered me inside, “but I need my head examined – making out with my son’s best friend.” There was just a low desk lamp on in the living room and he didn’t bother turning on more lights after shutting the front door. If his words expressed regret, his body didn’t as he stepped up to me, touching my chest and feeling my muscle beneath my shirt.

    “So strong,” he growled as he looked up at me. “Are you 19?”

    “20, sir,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist, letting my hands eventually fall onto his tight ass.

    Romantic Mr. Bryant was gone and replaced by Lusty Mr. Bryant. His mouth crashed hard against mine and his fingers started undoing my shirt buttons, pulling the fabric to the side, and soon I felt his fingers against my warm, bare chest.

    In turn, I rubbed up his toned back and around his torso beneath his sport coat, finding myself very turned on by his older, fit muscle.

    “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he whispered. The gleam in his eye gave me a shiver.

    “Please,” I said and then followed Mr. Bryant down the hall. He removed his sport coat and I could see the broad powerful back a man his age often has. “Interested in a joint first, Jim?” he asked as he opened the door to his bedroom and turned on the light. “It often helps me get in the mood.”

    With his back to me, my hands latched on his shoulders and gave them a strong squeeze. “I’m driving so maybe I shouldn’t,” I answered.

    The 49-year-old, gorgeous man backed his body into my embrace, pressing his warm back against my clothed chest. We were equally matched in height and the contact felt great. I arms snaked around his torso, pulling him in tighter as my lips brushed the back of his neck.

    “You know you’re always welcome to stay over here,” he said, with a new lust in his voice. “There’s the guest room, if you prefer… Or my bed.”

    “Your bed sounds amazing,” I said, kissing the side of his neck and running my hands up and along the toned swells of his chest. I knew Dad was half-expecting me to stay the night at the Bryants’. And as I’d been reminded after my hookups with David the professor, I really enjoyed spending the night with another man. It felt grown up and intimate.

    “…as does a joint,” I added, laughing into his hair.

    To be honest, I could have gone right to the sex then, but I wanted to draw this out as long as I could. I wanted to make this first date as perfect as it could be.

    Mr. Bryant half turned his body and craned his head back for a kiss. It was a quicker and more playful kiss. He patted my side. “Get comfortable,” he said as my arms slowly let him go. “I love smoking naked with a guy.”

    I knew Mr. B was the Cool-Dad type but it was still a trip to see him act like a guy half his age.

    He pulled open his dresser drawer and pulled out a small tin containing his stash and papers.

    I stayed where I stood as I unlaced then removed my leather shoes. I then untucked my shirt and undid the final buttons before peeling it off my shoulders. I looked down at myself and all of a sudden, I felt self conscious about my body. “I’ve put on a few pounds this year, sir. I hope you don’t mind,” I said with just a hint of disappointment, my shirt in my hand as Mr. Bryant turned to look at me.

    He set the tin on his dresser before I watched his eyes sweep up my body, from my navel to my neck. When his gaze caught my eyes, he let the corner of his lip curl as he shook his head and undid his belt and unzipped his khakis. “Jim, you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever had sex with. You still are.”

    I smiled and, encouraged, took off my jeans, leaving me in just my underwear. I’d gotten a few pairs of boxer briefs like David’s and really was into the way they hugged my legs and glutes. Peeling those off now, my prick was rigid with desire and in anticipation of sex with Ed again.

    Now fully naked, I got onto the bed first and leaned back on one of the large pillows as I watched Mr. B strip off the rest of his clothes. It looked like he’d gotten in even better shape since I’d last seen him. Trim but well-built, flat stomach. His dirty blond hair, graying at the temples, was matched with soft swirls of similarly colored fur all over his chest and abs.

    “Fuck, you’re so hot, Mr. B,” my words drooling out of my mouth as I gently stroked my prick.

    He smiled at the compliment but as he pushed his own boxer briefs down, he chastised me again. “You gonna be calling me Mr. B all night, Jim?”

    I watched him reveal his own rigid dick, beautiful at 7 inches, and cut. His balls seemed full, nice round orbs that hung down an inch from his tool.

    “That bother you?”

    “A little,” he admitted. “Makes me feel like a shitty father. Let’s keep it Ed, OK?”

    “Sure thing, Ed,” I said.

    I felt bad I’d upset Mr. Bryant or put him in a bad mood, but as he climbed into the bed to join me, he had the same playful look on his face again.

    We got comfortable, adjusting pillows at our backs before finally sitting up against the headboard, erections sticking from our crotches, as Ed rolled up a joint and lit it. He took a hit then passed it to me.

    I’d been going along with the flow of Ed’s suggestion but now that I was smoking, I had to admit this was making me feel great. We passed it back and forth a few times, working on our high as we traded smiles.

    “Glad you were up for this, Jim,” Mr. Bryant said as he took the joint from me. “Pot definitely helps me relax… I was thinking…” he took a hit. “… I’d like to try getting fucked by your big one.”

    I took the joint now, my eyes widened. “For real, Ed? God, I’d love to fuck you.”

    I had my turn as Ed watched on, a goofy expression forming on his face. “You have any experience as a top?”

    “Yeah,” I said proudly, giving him a quick nod. “A good bit, actually. Fucking a guy is my favorite thing to do.”

    We’d gotten to the end of the joint and Ed took the last toke before setting aside the tin. “Is that right? You have a ranking then?” he asked, a horny smile on his lips as his brow piqued with interest.

    “Yep,” I smirked as I rolled over and crawled on top of him. He spread his legs, accepting my body as I let my cock brush against his. My arms now extended on either side of his shoulders, our faces close again once more as I licked his bottom lip. Mr. B felt up my flexed arms as he deepened our smoky kiss. I pulled my tongue from his mouth and began kissing down his neck, down his jugular as his hands massaged my rounded shoulders.

    “Fucking’s number one,” I said as I licked down his sternum, enjoying the chest hair between his pecs. “…getting head’s number two…” I paused, letting my tongue delve into his belly button as his hands gripped my gelled hair. The tip of his cock was pulsing and leaking just under my chin. His strong legs contracting and clenching my torso as he moaned.

    I looked up, over his body to his face. He looked back at me with hooded eyes. “I want to show you number three,” I said as I kissed at his waist.

    He nodded as I let my head roam further down his body. I let my breath brush over his cock as I only let the tip of my tongue trace down his shaft. I softly tongued his sac as my head fell out of reach of his hands. I looked up. His eyes and mouth showed surprise as I reached under each knee, nudging up his legs. Mr. B knew exactly what was coming and pulled his legs up and apart as I lick down his fuzzy taint.

    “Oh fuck, Jim,” the man hissed as I burrowed my smooth face in his now open and furry trench, licking along his inner thigh. I let my tongue get closer to his furred hole as I listened to his breath get more excited. I groaned as I let my tongue finally taste him, feeling his hungry hole pulse with anticipation as I hardened my tongue for entry. I channeled LCDR Grant, and even Josiah, as I wedged my tongue into his eager opening. I slipped into him with relative ease as he pushed his hole out to greet me. Yeah, he wanted this.

    Mr. B gripped his legs, holding his knees close to his chest as he groaned, rolling his head back and to the side as I gripped each sculpted cheek, licking his crinkled entrance before pressing my tongue into him once more and tasting his innards. His hole wanted me, pulsing and opening to me as I sucked at his hole, flicking my tongue before diving back into him. I was flat out munching Mr. B’s hole now, deep and heavy tongues strokes over, around, and against his pucker, driving the man wild as he heaved his ass back into my lips and tongue.

    “Fuck yeah… Oh, Jim… Eat me out,” he urged wantenly as he flexed his chute around my delving tongue. I went at him harder, slurping and licking wildly. It probably looked lewd, and now stoned, I lacked finesse. I was just horny as fuck and very into eating Mr. B’s hole.

    Finally he nudged my head as I felt maybe it had become too much for him, fingers stroking my bangs. “My turn,” he muttered.

    I pulled my tongue from him and leaned up, spit coating my lips and chin. I could see how amazing and tempting Mr. Bryant’s pucker was, the soft crinkled folds nestled in the hairs now wetted down by my saliva. Fuck, he looked primed to fuck right now.

    “Sure,” I agreed. I remembered the experience of Jack Grant backing his ass to my face, so I copied that position with Ed, turning around and leaning forward on my knees, spreading my legs slightly as I pulled my ass apart to let him in. I looked back as Ed crawled into position behind me. He pawed each cheek in his hands, opening me up further as I watched his jaw disappear.

    “Your ass is just as perfect as your cock, Jim.” The man gave a soft, sexy growl and started tonguing me, making me take a sharp breath as I let my eyes flutter close . Fuck, I loved this. He was gentler in his approach than I’d just been, and it felt terrific. My boner throbbed and leaked as Mr. Bryant licked and explored my ass.

    “Fuck yeah, Ed,” I moaned. “Yeah… Oh, fuck… tongue me.”

    In the back of my mind I wondered if Mr. B topped. He certainly was good at rimming. If he’d made a move to fuck me, I know I would have gone along with it. But he’d said he wanted to try out my cock, and that idea was winning out for me.

    Ed licked my hole one final time as he pulled his face from my ass. I got out of our position, and turned to meet my date hungrily for a deep kiss. Both of us kneeling on the bed as mine and Ed’s arms and hands pulled each other closer, our chests pressed together, the hair of his pecs and torso more dense and scratchier than mine. His kisses were less measured now, the pot putting him in a horny state to match mine. We writhed against each other like sex starved beasts, our hard dicks and balls mashing against one another as I gripped his ass greedily, helping him grind against me. I don’t know what I expected Mr. B to be like in the sack, but this wasn’t it. I let my hands roam along his back, holding him as I slowly lowered us back onto the bed, trying to keep our kiss connected. Once again, Ed lay back against the bedding, his hands clutched against my sides as they ran down to my ass. I was now on top of him, pinning him down with the weight of my body as I took his mouth.

    I kissed him, almost roughly and let his furry chest grind against mine. I just as jerkily pulled back from our kiss and looked down on him hungrily.

    “Ready to be fucked, Ed?” I growled, pressing my cock against his just to show how much I wanted to.

    He nodded. “There’s some lube in the drawer,” he directed me, his eyes darting to his nightstand drawer.

    The very idea that Mr. Bryant would let me inside him was amazing as I rummaged for the tube. I quickly prepared myself in a quick slick coat. With gentle fingers, I rubbed the lube into the man’s hairy hole before tossing the lube aside. I sat kneeling between his open thighs as I brought his sexy legs up and rested them on my shoulders. “This is the best date ever, Ed,” I said with a smirk and pressed the leaking tip of my dick against his waiting ass.

    I didn’t rush entering him, but I didn’t delay either. I applied pressure against his ring until I felt it give, making the man give out a loud, “oof!” That stopped me in my tracks. I’m not sure how much experience he’d had at this. He definitely wasn’t as experienced a bottom as David was. I missed the ease of entering my professor hookup’s ass, but this was hot, way hot – Mr. B’s tightness, and the very idea I was getting the honors of opening him up.

    I ran my hands along his calves. Maybe it was just the pot relaxing him, but I felt the tightness give way as I started being able to enter him for real. I let out a slow groan as I felt the head of my cock being swallowed up. I savored the hot squeeze for a second before adding more pressure, feeding him the rest of my shaft. Slowly but deep, all the way in.

    “God, you’re big,” he hissed as I bottomed out, the look on his face amazed as his hands caressed my abs and sides. His dick was rockhard, so I took that as a sign that the sensations he was feeling were intense in a good way.

    It never hurt to check in with him, though. “Too big?” I asked, holding still.

    He shook his head no as he gave his solid 7-inches as few tugs. “I can’t believe a 20-year-old is showing me how much I love it with men.”

    Damn, his words turned me on. I pulled back a few inches, making Ed gasp before I plowed back in – right in. I felt my blond pubes press into his hairy taint as Ed’s hole rippled and fluttered around my cock, making me groan and grind my pelvis into him. I dragged my cock back out but quickly fed him back my inches as his innards gripped me with a snug grasp. Ed’s eyes melted, his face washing over with pleasure as he let out a deep moan, his hands gripping the sheets above his head as he gently arched his back. I had to keep my lust in check and not go too hard. But I did give him another thrust to match it, bottoming out as Ed’s hole begged for more. Thrusting, drawing another moan from his lips as I felt his claves knot against my shoulders. And another. Fucking Mr. B for real now.

    “Ugh, Jim, you’re such a handsome young man… Jesus fucking Christ, you know how to fuck… yeah, fuck me, Jim,” he moaned, looking up at me with clear lust as his body reverberated with each of my strong thrusts. His legs rested on my shoulder, pulled apart slightly. This man was giving himself to me completely as I felt his hole finally accept me, allowing me to make him feel good.

    “You let guys do this to you often, Ed?” I asked as I powered my girth into him again. It was an inappropriate question, but at that moment I wanted to know how I stacked up to the competition.

    “Jim, you know you can’t ask a question like that… Oh, fuck… fuck,” he sighed between soft moans. “Not on a first date.” Ed, turned his head, eyes shut and mouth agape as I noticed the sheen of sweat that had broken out over his skin.

    “Sorry,” I breathed, thrusting in, watching his cock bounce as it drooled pre all over his furry abs. “You’re right. I’m just honored to tap your hole, Ed… you deserve to be taken care of right.”

    “Oh God,” he hissed, closing his eyes once more as he let his head rock back. Maybe it was my words provoking that reaction, but he also seemed to be reacting to the physical sensation of my prick plowing him.

    “Damn…” I grunted as I revelled in the tight, hot pleasure of Mr. B’s hole. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you. This is so hot.” The forbidden nature of fucking my best bud’s dad was definitely adding to my pleasure.

    “Jesus, Jim….Mmgm… fuck my ass… Mnmg… fuck me deep….” Mr. Bryant urged as the pleasure on his face heightened. “Fuck yeah, Jim… Just like that… Oh fuck…”

    “I got you, sir…” I said, pushing up so his hips raised and our angle changed. I rammed into him, deep, slowing my thrusts so he could accommodate the power of my strokes.

    “Oh shit,” he whimpered.

    I didn’t let up, pistoning in real deep strokes. Hurting Mr. B was the last thing in the world I wanted, but the man was certainly going to feel fucked after this.

    “Ungh.. You mean like that, Mr. B?” my previous name for him slipping out as I let my cock hit that same spot again. “Mmggh… You like my fat, fucking cock in you?”

    Maybe it was taking a chance going verbal with Ed, but he responded to it, big time. “Yeah, just like that, you fucking stud. That dick’s gonna fuck me off.”

    I wanted to see it. Wanted to see Mr. B come. I wanted it more than my own release at that point. I grabbed his legs and pounded him to the finish line. I felt my hips take on a mind of their own as my thrusts grew into short, powerful jabs. I watched Ed’s eyes seal shut as his moans of pleasure grew louder as well. He didn’t cum hands-free but it didn’t take more than a couple of strokes with his hand and his seven-incher jerked and fired out a healthy load of daddy cum up and down his hairy, sweat-glistened body.

    “Jim… Oh, Fuck… Yeah, Fuck Yeah…” Mr. B cried as he stroked each volley out of his prick.

    “Way to go!” I growled with a satisfied smile. His hole clenched and pulsed around my cock with an exquisite tightness as he shot each hefty spurt. “Oh, fuck yeah… Get that nut, sir,” I said and felt the start of my own orgasm. I’d been so close and was so ready to cum it was frustrating when it didn’t. And now that Ed had nutted, I was concerned he wouldn’t be able to take my shafting any more.

    But it was like Ed could read my thoughts as he leaned back and looked up at my heaving, thrusting younger body. He ran his hands along my sweaty torso and softly urged me on. “Mmm… Come on, Jim… Ugh, yeah… come inside my ass…. it’s your first date, I know you got a huge load to dump in me…I want it, Jim… Give it to me… Cum in me…”

    Those words did it as my hips gave him my final thrust. “Fuck, Ed… Mngm… Ungh… Fuuuuck… Mmggh..” I bit my lip and my face scrunched in a powerful orgasm. Mr. B was getting that ass load all right. I discharged most of it in him but pulled out of him, letting his legs off my shoulders before the last dribbles spilled from my dick, since I wanted to give his ass a rest.

    I fell back onto him and kissed him deeply, thankful that he gave me the gift of his ass and thankful he’d gone verbal to get me over the finish line.

    I rolled off his body, and we finally lay side by side, exhausted and our high lingering. It was like a scene from a movie, at least if that movie was about a guy banging his friend’s dad.

    “I liked that too much,” Ed finally said, running a hand through the stripes of cum streaked across his stomach and chest.

    I looked over at him, concerned he was feeling guilty now that we’d cum. “It’s just a one-time thing, Ed,” I said. “Sometimes guys need sex. I guess we both needed it.”

    He leaned up, reaching back onto his night stand for his tin. We smiled at each other as he rolled another joint. He handed it to me for a first smoke. “You have a thing for older men, Jim?” he asked.

    Without missing a beat, I answered. “Yeah, Ed. A lot. That bug you?” I lit up and inhaled. Pot after sex was new to me, and I wondered if it was too much of a good thing.

    “No,” he said. “It still bugs me that you’re Rick’s friend.”

    As I got to my second round of the joint, I added, “It actually makes me feel like a heel, too, Ed. But I know I’d do it all over again if it came to that. I’m crazy attracted to you.”

    Ed smiled. “Thanks, Jim.” He took a toke and held in his breath for a second. He exhaled and said, “And you gave me the fuck of a lifetime. I didn’t even know I liked it like that.”

    I felt proud. “I just went with what you seemed to want,” I replied.

    * * * *

    I woke up to a blow job the next morning. I thought it was a dream. Coach Weir from high school was wearing his poly shorts and tight, school team T-shirt. He had me sitting on the edge of his office desk in nothing but my practice jock and cleats as he sat in his chair, bobbing up and down between my legs. His medium-length graying hair setting off his weather-beaten tanned face and the brown eyes that looked up at me the whole time he sucked my cock with loud slurps, trying to accommodate my full length. I leaned back on my hands, the pleasure on my face showing him that he was doing an awesome job taking care of me. It didn’t take him long to work me up to a cum. I tried warning him, but no words would come out. Instead my body writhed as I fell back onto Coach Weir’s desk and my dick surged hard and I started spurting into Coach’s hungry, slurping mouth.

    “Unnh!” I cried as I woke up mid-orgasm. Only it wasn’t Coach Weir of course, it was Ed Bryant, nestled between my legs, sucking wildly on my morning wood and nursing out my semen. I watched him slurp and suck at the dribbles before finally relinquishing me.

    “I remember you said that was your second favorite thing to do,” he smiled, licking his lips.

    He slowly leaned up onto his knees. His hand was on his dick, and both were covered in his own sperm.

    I let out a content sigh as I relaxed back into the pillows and sheets. “Wow, I’ve never done that. Or rather, had that done for me.”

    “Glad I could show you something new,” he said, hopping off the bed and getting a spare towel to wipe off.

    “It was incredible,” I said, watching the man move – his ass and legs flexing as he walked.

    I could have watched Mr. B’s sexy nude body for days, but now that we’d had our morning release, he offered me the shower first as he went to make some coffee. I came out and he took his turn.

    Once we were fully dressed, we chatted some around the breakfast counter in the kitchen, but gone was the flirty man I’d gone on a date with, or the lusty man I’d fucked. It was the Mr. Bryant I’d always known: friendly, a little goofy, kind of a regular dad.

    I had my coffee and told Mr. B I’d be heading on. “Thanks again for an incredible night, Ed,” I said as he walked me to the door. “It was the best.”

    He patted me on the shoulder. “Glad I could help out,” he chuckled. “This has got to stay between us.”

    “Yep,” I said. “One last kiss?” I asked, hopefully.

    “One last kiss,” Mr. B smiled, letting me lean up into him. I wrapped my arm around his waist, gently pulling him close as I angled my lips to meet his. His hand cupped my stubbled cheek as he gave me an incredible, soft and slow parting kiss.

    “You’re an amazing, young gentleman, Jim McGrath,” he said as we parted lips, him still in my arms. “I hope you find a man who makes you happy.”

    “Thanks, sir,” I said. “You, too.”


    Thanks to Corporal Cody for his collaboration. 


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


  • Life

    If you have the recordings, a suggested Playlist for each part within a Chapter:

    *

    • “Love Song” by The Cure (Disintegration in 1989, CD, Fiction & Elektra Records)
    • “Blue Savannah” by Erasure (Wild! In 1990, CD, Mute Records & Sire Records)
    • “Kiss” by Prince (Parade in 1986, CD, Paisley Park)

     !

    •  “The Scientist” by Coldplay (A Rush of Blood to the Head in 2002/2003, CD, Parlophone, Capitol)
    • “One” by Three Dog Night (Aerial Ballet in 1968, Vinyl, RCA)
    • “Ode to Boy” by Yazoo (You and Me Both in 1983, CD, Mute Records & Sire Records)

     ?

    •  “Move (You Make Me Feel So Good)” by Moby (Move EP in 1993, CD, Mute Records & Elektra Records)
    • “Halcyon On and On” by Orbital (Halcyon EP in 1992/1993, CD, FFRR)
    • “Silence” by Tiesto featuring Sarah McLachlan (Delerium Featuring Sarah McLachlan – Silence (Remixes by Airscape And Dj Tiesto) in 2000, Vinyl, Nettwerk)

    Our memories capture the events of our lives as moments in time. Major events or even minor ones remembered without all the context, the concept of time with its appearance of a smooth flow, missing from much of our memory. We frame those moments, create a memory that plays out in illogical ways, randomly appearing to us, sometimes when we least expect it. But they tell our story, reveal events that shape and mold us. Reveal to us our humanity.


    Sunrise

    *

    Keith rolled to his back, stretched, then sat up. Next to him lay Toby, fast asleep. It seemed so natural to have him there, in bed when he awoke. He knew he took it for granted far too often. He pushed the hair from Toby’s forehead, revealing the closed eyes and their long lashes. He was tempted to run his finger over the thin eyebrows, with their gentle arch forms over the eyes. All the times they added to Toby’s expression, arching up high with questioning looks, or angling downward in moments of anger or aggravation, or the simple relaxed position of content that was Toby’s expression most of the time.

    Keith eased off the bed to go into the bathroom, then get dressed. Even though it was a Saturday morning, Dr. Mitchell, his vet, was coming over early to check on one of his bulls. He pissed, jumped in the shower, then brushed his teeth. Back in the bedroom, he pulled out a work shirt and jeans, and stood at the foot of the bed getting dressed. Watching Toby sleep, he buttoned up his shirt. It was provocative the way the cover lay just above Toby’s round ass, folded, and wrapped around the lower body, leaving the back exposed. He wanted to crawl back in bed, run a hand down Toby’s back, knowing how smooth the skin would feel, and how firm the muscle underneath would be against his hand, and keep rubbing it downward until he moved over those curved ass cheeks. He knew their shape, how they fit in each hand, or how they flexed during sex, revealing Toby’s strength.

    Slipping his wallet in the left back pocket, then his keys in the right front, he watched Toby snort once in his sleep, and roll over on his back, one arm over his head, the other along his side. Keith went to his nightstand for his cellphone and stood there looking at the muscular chest, with its silly little tattoo over the right nipple. It was confessed to be an acquisition after a hard night drinking, with dares by Toby’s friends to do it. Keith smiled, as he thought of all the times, he had traced it with his finger while lying in bed with Toby sound asleep.

    Toby needed a haircut, with it getting long again. It was something he didn’t care about, going months without one, when Keith went every other week for a trim. It was one of their differences, something that spoke to each one’s personality. Toby’s casual attitude toward life, and Keith’s orderly approach to it, everything with a place, or a time.

    Keith stepped down from the screen porch in time to see Dr. Mitchell pulling around the house in his Tahoe. Keith knew the back was crammed with supplies and equipment, enough to do almost any minor treatment in the field. The Tahoe stopped next to Toby’s old Cherokee, and he saw the doctor give it a quick glance, and the smirk wasn’t completely gone when he looked around at him.

    “Good morning,” said Keith.

    “Morning. How have you been?”

    “Good.”

    “So, where’s this bull I need to look at?”

    “I got him isolated from the herd. Come on, I’ll take you out to the barn where I got him pinned up.”

    They were halfway across the yard when Dr. Mitchell cleared his throat.

    “Keith; is that Toby Garrison’s Cherokee?”

    “Yes. Why?”

    “Oh, no reason,” Dr. Mitchell replied, falling silent as Keith went up to the barn, pulling out a ring full of keys. After a search along the ring, Keith got the door unlocked and Dr. Mitchell followed him into the barn. They went through the first section, passed through another door, and came into a section open to the pasture, with stalls along one side. In the first one, the large bull was standing, with its back towering over the stall front.

    “What’s his temperament?”

    “Typically, good, but let me go in first.”

    A few minutes later, Toby strolled into the barn. He was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and frayed jeans. He stood on the stall fence, looking over as Dr. Mitchell examined the bull. Keith looked up and saw how early morning sunlight poured into the barn, its rays illuminating Toby’s back, giving him a haloed appearance. He stared, unconcerned how it might look to the vet. He wanted to tell the vet how Toby was his man, and it was more than simply Toby crashing at his place last night, but glancing around to the vet, he saw him looking his way, and it was obvious he already knew. He smiled, happy with his life like he had not been in a very long time.

    !

    Keith lay in bed far longer than usual, not wanting to face another day. He sighed and rolled over on his back, letting his left arm fall across the emptiness that lay to his side. Toby’s absence still made him feel like he was suffocating, unable to draw the simplest breath. It had been four days, and each night was a torment, and each morning a loneliness he could not fathom. He had lived alone before, for years, content in his life. But he had tasted from the wellspring of life, felt its heat lay next to him, and listened to its soft breathing and occasional snort, while lost to a dream world. He had given of himself and taken too.

    He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come, not this time. His body told him enough. It was time to pull himself together. There were cows to attend, eggs to gather and he could hear Millie roaming around the house and knew she needed to go out, then be fed. Life summoned him, gave him no time to heal. Rolling up, feet swung to the floor, he stretched the soreness from his muscles. He knew it was from the tension and sadness that consumed him, more than any physical labors that could make him sore. How long had it been? Nearly a week, and the house creaked in the silence. A silence that bore into the center of his being and burned.

    What had it been about? It seemed so serious then, but foolish now. If only he could turn back time, for he had taken part in one of humanities greatest failures. To take the moment serious enough to consider the consequences. To realize how the future would be affected by it. He was just one again. Lonely. Alone.

    A long hot shower, and finally dressed, Keith made his way to the barn. The sun cast long shadows across the yard, and when he came out into the center of it, he felt its soft warmth only the early morning could provide, and a tear trickled down his cheek.

     ?

    ‘Who’s that?’ Keith wondered, as this guy he had never seen before strolled into Evelyn’s Diner. He didn’t know everyone in town, but he recognized faces, and this one was new. And was so attractive, it was a distraction. And the rest of the guy wasn’t bad either. Tall, muscular build, with brown hair that needed cutting and a five o’clock shadow that followed the line of jaw, and barely covered the chin. He looked late twenties, and still boyish in the face, and Keith thought of his own age. He was thirty-two in a month, but he had been feeling older. It was the loneliness that did it. Made him fret over the passing years, but he wanted to farm, so he had come back after college and set up with his father. For a couple of years, he was so busy, the loneliness was pushed back, but after a while, as they got the farm expanded for the two of them, and a rhythm established with crops, he began to search out for others like himself. There had been Bill from Madison, Jason from Greenville, the guys up in Montgomery, and Ryan from Mobile. They were all companions for a night here and there, never anything serious. And there were others, the one-night stands that leave one unsatisfied when there is more desired. Over time, the guys became friends, each moving on to others. Bill found a man from Jasper, who had been with him for three years now. Ryan married last year, a man ten years his senior, and so it went. Life carried on for everyone. Everyone, except him, as he thought of it. He blamed it on his father’s health issues, having to stop two years ago, and selling out his part of the farm and moving down to Gulf Shores. It left Keith alone even in this daily life, working fields and tending to the animals by himself, not even someone in which to say, ‘good morning’ or ‘how are you?’

    So, this new guy captured his attention, and more than once he was caught staring, the last time getting a smile in return. His heart raced like it had in college when he saw a guy he wanted to ask out, or simply invite back to his dorm room for an afternoon of sex. The waitress set his order down and he leaned forward and began to eat, casting quick glances across the dining room between bites.

    He saw the guy order, get a drink, a large tea, then pull out a cellphone and scroll through the screen. As he finished his meal, a waitress set the guy’s order down in front of him, and he watched him eat. There was a casualness to his movements, unhurried in every bite. Normally, Keith ate his dinner, paid the waitress and headed home, but this time he ordered dessert. It was an excuse to linger in the dining room, hopefully until the guy finished his own meal. He wanted to follow him out. To get the measure of him, and if possible, get close enough to really get a sense of his character. Some nuance he could think of later that night when alone in bed.

    Dessert finished, and his ticket signed and totaled, Keith rushed toward the door. The guy had gone out less than a minute in front of him, but he knew if he were parked close, it wouldn’t take long for him to be gone. He stepped out into the hot evening, the sun just below the buildings across the street, casting shadows over everything. The air radiated the day’s heat, making most rush from air-conditioned cars to air-conditioned interiors. Keith looked down the sidewalk, disappointed the guy was nowhere to be seen. He ambled down to the corner, and turned, heading to his truck parked in back. When he got to the back corner of the building, he saw the guy standing by an old Cherokee. He slowed, afraid to appear like he was following him, as he approached his truck parked two spaces over.

    “Hey, I’m Toby,” the guy called out as Keith drew close. And just like that, a connection was made, Toby not being shy about speaking first.

    Keith couldn’t believe it, not when so many in the community would never approach someone so boldly. He turned and moved to the back of the Cherokee, unable to stop himself from scanning the masculine form in front of him. Six foot, maybe a bit taller, lean in build by the way the shirt hung on him, but the arms showed muscular biceps. Toby approached him until only a couple of feet apart, and he saw the blue eyes with their thin arched eyebrows and hair that fell over the forehead, nearly concealing both.

    “Hi, I’m Keith.”

    “I assume you’re from around here?”

    “Yes. I live just south of town, about ten miles away in Huxford.”

    “You’re a farmer?”

    “Yes. I’ve not seen you around before. You live here?”

    “I do now. I moved here three weeks ago. I work at the clinic in town.”

    “Are you a doctor?”

    Toby laughed, “oh no, I’m a nurse.”

    “I see.”

    “I was wondering, where do you go to socialize and get a drink?”

    “Well…” Keith hesitated, unsure which of the two places to recommend. The dive bar with its roughnecks who paid more allegiance to the Confederate battle flag than their own country’s flag, or the place Nancy Harrison opened last year out on Patterson Road, just outside of town. It wasn’t bad, but it was in a metal building that had been a car repair shop, and as a private club, smoking was allowed inside, something most patrons would do, thus it was a smoke filled space.  “Probably the Longleaf Tavern out on Patterson Road.”

    “Don’t know it, but there is a lot I’ve not figured out yet. Can I offer to buy you a drink if you would accompany me?”

    “Sure. You want to follow me?”

    “I can do that. What are you driving?”

    “That silver Dodge truck,” Keith replied, pointing to his truck two spaces over.

    Country music reverberated in the bar, mixing with the sound of conversations, laughter, and the occasional gruff reply. The bar was full, and Keith found himself at a small table with Toby sitting opposite.

    “So, tell me about yourself,” said Toby.

    Keith hesitated, unsure what to say. He began by talking about growing up on the farm, one handed down for five generations, and how his father had to retire, leaving it all to him. He casually mentioned being single, wondering how much to insinuate. Toby smiled at him, nodding his head.

    “What about you?” asked Keith.

    “Me? Not much to tell. I’m from Leesburg, Georgia, went to college in Montgomery, and when I graduated, I took a job here.”

    “Why here?”

    “I’m not sure…I didn’t want to live in some big city, and this seemed like a good place.”

    “Have you met anyone?”

    “You mean to date?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Maybe,” Toby replied, cryptically.

    “Well, you’re a handsome guy, so I’m sure the single women will hound you to death.”

    “What about you? Why are you still single if that is the case?”

    “I…”

    “Maybe you’re looking for something else,” Toby whispered across the table and it caught Keith by surprise.

    Gathering himself, putting on a stoic expression, Keith took a chance. “Maybe.”

    Toby laughed. “You’re farm88man, aren’t you?”

    “What…how?”

    “You’re wearing the same shirt that is in one of your photos and I recognize your jaw and lips.”

    “Seriously, that gave me away?”

    “Yep.”

    “So, you been meeting many guys in the area?”

    “No, not really. I met one guy for dinner, and it was a disaster. I felt bad about it, but he was so desperate for companionship, but it had to be secret. He had all these rules and…”

    “That accountant from Evergreen?”

    “Yes!”

    “Yes, I think I excused myself as soon as I got the check paid.”

    “What about it, would you like to go on a real date with me?”

    “Yes, that would be nice.”

    They drank two more beers, keeping huddled up around the small table away from everyone else, until the bar became so crowded and noisy, they struggled to hear one another.

    “You want to get out of here?” asked Keith, not sure what he was asking.

    “Yes.”

    They went outside, and after circling the subject, Keith finally asked Toby if he wanted to come back to his place. It was a brash move for his part.

    Keith led Toby into his house, not turning on any lights, only the small lamp on a side table in the living room to light their way. He stammered an offer for another beer, but Toby said no, that they had had enough. Before Keith realized it, Toby was pressed against his body and lips touching his neck, jaw, then his own lips. Hands touched him, moved over his body, stroking his aroused state. His jeans felt confining, cock aching for release, and he pulled back, took Toby by the hand, and led him to the bedroom.

    Hands worked frantically to remove clothes, to reveal the hidden flesh, to touch it, to feel its warmth. To rub over it, feeling the slight quiver of muscles. Keith pushed Toby down onto his bed and moved on top of him. He held the long neck and kissed him. With the other hand, he explored the muscular body. The contours of it. The chest, the undulating stomach, the abdomen with the trail of hair leading down, and the cock that filled his hand. Then he explored further, over the tightening sac and down between the thighs until he was touching him, rubbing a finger over the tight opening. He bore into it and felt the tightness around his finger as he piston it inside of him.

    “Do it…fuck me…” Toby whispered in Keith’s ear before tonguing it, making him shudder.

    Keith put his cock to the tight entrance and pushed. He eased inward, feeling the tight grip it had on his cock, as inch after inch slid through it. He felt Toby shudder beneath him, as hands held his ass. He fucked slowly, so he could feel every inch move through the tightness until it loosened to his penetration. Then he began to fuck harder, faster, driving into Toby’s depths. Their bodies rubbed together quickly becoming wet at every contact. The bed squeaked and rocked. And the room grew hot.

    Keith pulled out, getting on his knees. “Roll over,” he said breathlessly and watched Toby flip over, and get on his elbows and knees. Keith raked his wet cock along the spread ass, then bore into the depths of Toby’s body and began to fuck again. He held the narrow waist, as his abdomen smacked against the round firm ass. The bed rocked beneath them, banging into the wall at times. It spurned him on, drove his lust, desire, the need for another man. He hammered his cock into Toby’s hot depths. Leaning over, he wrapped an arm around the long neck and pulled Toby upright, their bodies rubbing wetly against each other, as he pushed his cock into him. He rubbed his other hand down the sweaty chest, the heaving stomach, downward until he held Toby in his fist, and he stroked him. It wasn’t long and his hand was wet, the cock moving slickly through it.

    “Fuck,” Toby exclaimed as he shuddered with release. Keith felt it, the way the cock flexed in his hand, the way Toby shook and jerked against his body and the way Toby’s hole spasm around his cock. He shoved inward, all the way and came, unable to hold back a second longer.

    They collapsed on the bed and lay next to each other, until their breathing slowed. Toby giggled, then laughed, making Keith do the same.

    “Fuck, I needed that,” said Toby.

    “Me, too.”

    They lay silent, just enjoying the feel of bodies pushed to fatigue. Bodies heated up to the point of sweating, now cooling down, suddenly feeling the conditioned air of the room.

    “Let’s shower off,” said Keith, sitting up slowly.

    “Okay,” Toby replied.

    The water ran until warm, and Keith stepped in, followed by Toby. They soaped up the other’s body with their hands, exploring the unfamiliar nature of each. Explored around arms, down chests, and stomachs, and around cocks and ass cheeks, until cocks began to grow erect again. Toby eased down on his knees and took Keith in his mouth. Leaning against the cool tile wall, Keith watched how his cock slipped through Toby’s lips, nearly every inch disappearing into the slick, warm mouth. He struggled not to pump his hips, letting Toby set the pace. He watched how Toby would pull back and tongue the head making him shiver, then sink it back into his mouth. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, focusing all senses on how Toby was making him feel.

    Then his cock was bobbing in open air.

    Keith opened his eyes and saw Toby stand up and turn around.

    “Fuck me,” Toby uttered as he bent over holding his head down.

    Keith moved up behind him and put his cock to the tight opening. He watched Toby stretch open, and once again take every inch of his cock. He held the narrow waist and fucked. He drove into Toby’s depths, over and over, building up a fast pace. He watched the movement of Toby’s right arm and knew he was stroking his own cock. As water cascade down his body, he hammered into Toby’s depths, abdomen smacking against ass every push inward. It didn’t take long, and Keith cried out as he shoved inward all the way and came. Toby shook and jerked against him and he knew he was coming too.

    Out of the shower, Keith dried Toby, running the towel over the lean muscular body, at times kissing it softly.

    “I guess I should go?” Toby said as Keith hung the towel and led him back to the bedroom. It was a question, spoken with a lack of conviction.

    “No…stay. Please,” Keith replied.

    “I’d like that.”

    Toby eased down on the bed and Keith moved next to him. They snuggled together, Toby in Keith’s arms and drifted off to sleep. Come daybreak, the early morning sun filtered into the room through and around the blinds. It gave the room a soft warm glow. Keith stirred awake and looked at the sleeping man next to him, wondering about the possibilities that lay ahead. He watched narrow beams of sunlight move over the sleeping form. The curved ass barely concealed beneath the sheet, the exposed back, and the head with is shaggy hair and boyish face. It was a perfect morning, one not to be disturbed, and Keith snuggled closer to Toby and drifted back to sleep.

    Supper

    ?

    Toby arrived right at nine, the day at an end, with the sky brilliant with stars. It was late to be preparing dinner, but Toby had to work late at the clinic, so tonight it would be a supper. Toby selected the music and laughed at Keith’s expression when old disco and Motown filled the rooms with their rhythms. They worked together in the kitchen, Keith preparing the chicken for cooking while Toby cut vegetables. They sang along with songs, danced around each other, laughing at their antics, while preparing their supper. Keith cooked the chicken, then began to sauté the vegetables. Toby brought water to a boil then dropped in the penne pasta. French bread warmed in the oven.

    “Open another bottle,” said Keith pointing at the red wine sitting on the island.

    Pasta done, the chicken and vegetables tossed together, Keith prepared their plates, grating parmesan cheese over it. They sat at the table, next to each other on one long side, and began to eat.

    “How are things at work?” asked Keith.

    “It’s okay. The paper trail required for every little thing and the attitude of one of the doctors is a bit much, but…hey, let’s talk about something else. You still looking to rebuild the pier at your pond?”

    “Yes. Why?”

    “I could help. I have been known to swing a hammer from time to time.”

    “Seriously?”

    “Yeah, why not. I know we’ve just met and…but it could be a way to get to know each other. And it’ll be a nice distraction from work.”

    “Well, okay. I was going to start tomorrow morning.”

    “I know. If you let me stay tonight, we could get an early start.”

    Keith grinned. “I was counting on you staying, whether you helped me tomorrow or not.”

    *

    They moved fluidly in the kitchen while music played softly. Keith rolling out the dumplings while Toby picked the meat from the chicken, putting it back into the large pot. It was not something they cooked very often, but the weather had been bad for days, raining off and on all week. There was a tropical storm in the gulf that would not move out, and Keith said it required comfort food for dinner. They had messed around that afternoon, then took a nap, waking up late, so dinner would become supper.

    The water boiled with the chicken roiling around within it. Toby and Keith worked together, dropping the dumplings into the boiling water individually, so they would not stick together.

    “Smells good,” Toby uttered, as he dropped one dumpling then another into the pot.

    “It does, but then again, I’m starving,” Keith replied, smiling at Toby as he traded places with him to drop more into the pot.

    The dumplings cooked for a few minutes, Toby gently stirring them, while Keith pulled out the salads they had made up and set the table. They filled bowls with the chicken and dumplings and moved to the table, sitting next to each other. They began to eat, occasionally bumping elbows and grinning at each other. It was a routine, a ritual for them to eat together at night, no matter how late it had to be, even if it was after ten, as it was now. It was their time, where the day was at an end and they could relax and enjoy the company of the other.

    “When do you think your folks will come down?” asked Keith.

    “I don’t know. Maybe the end of the month.”

    “I was thinking we should repaint the guest room.”

    “Really?” asked Toby, looking up smiling, for he had been wanting to repaint it before his parents came to visit. “Let’s do it tomorrow.”

    “Okay. What color?”

    !

    Keith jerked the iron skillet from the element as it smoked. “Fuck,” he exclaimed as he forked the chicken breast and lifted it out. It was burnt on the bottom and he was tempted to toss it in the trash, but he set it on his plate, next to the warmed-up beans and slice of a sandwich bread. He wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been for days. Not since the argument and Toby moved out. He went into the living area and turned on the television, flipping through channels until he came to an old movie, one he had seen multiple times. But its familiarity was what made him stop on it, this need for something he knew the outcome. A happy ending, one he had hoped he would have for himself.

    He sawed the knife through the overcooked chicken, cutting off the burnt bottom. He ate it, piece by piece, adding beans and bites of bread on occasion. He stared at the television, for to look around the room, to see how it was just him in it, was still too much.

    When all that was left on his plate was burnt pieces of chicken, he set it on the coffee table, next to the empty glass and the bowl from lunch. He had forgotten to take them back to the kitchen and they sat there, a reminder of his sloven nature of the last few days. Leaned back, noticing the movie had progressed to another scene without his realization, he looked at the cellphone on the side table. He wanted to pick it up and call him. To try to make amends, but he didn’t know how, not after what he had said. He didn’t think Toby could forgive him.

    Life

    *

    Keith walked back to the house after putting the lawn mower back in the barn. Toby was already in the screen porch, shirt off, trying to cool down from doing all the trimming.

    “Damn, it’s hot,” he exclaimed as Keith came up the steps and through the screen door.

    “It is. You got another beer for me?”

    “Yes,” Toby replied, reaching down to the small cooler by his chair, pulling out an ice-cold bottle. He twisted off the cap and held it out as foam trickled down the side.

    Keith sat next to him, unbuttoning his shirt to feel some air against his sweaty skin. “I’m glad that is done. Can you imagine if we waited until this afternoon?”

    “Hell no. I would have passed out,” Toby replied, grinning at Keith.

    They drank the cold beer and sat silent for a long time, staring out across the yard. It was such a chore to keep the grass cut, but when it was done, the yard looked so good, it made the two of them smile. Butterflies and bees worked the flowers around the yard, and they could see the peaches beginning to ripen on the trees at the fence, along the side of the yard.

    Keith finished his beer, set the bottle on the floor, and leaned back, closing his eyes. “I was thinking about what we had talked about the other day.”

    “Which conversation?” Toby asked, smiling at how Keith was so cryptic at times, starting a conversation without being specific of its topic.

    “The addition to the house.”

    “Oh, a master suite?”

    “Yes. You think you can sketch what we want and get it over to that fellow in Greenville to draw up?”

    “The architect? Yes. How quick do you want to get started on it?”

    “I think as soon as we can. Don’t you?”

    ?

    Toby sat at the island as Keith poured the ice cream mix into the maker. With the top secured and the motor plugged in, Keith started it up, letting its steady whine echo around the house. He scooped more of the coarse salt over the ice, that surrounded the stainless-steel cylinder in the bucket. The motor whined in a high pitch, but it would drop over time, as the mixer in the cylinder worked to move through the thickening mix, until it was ice cream, ready to eat.

    It was Saturday night, and after a tiring week for the two of them, they had lounged around the house all day. A bowl of cereal for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch, they had prepared a much more filling dinner, steaks on the grill and mashed potatoes, salad, and asparagus. An hour after finishing dinner they were in the kitchen again, making ice cream.

    “How’s work going?” asked Keith.

    “Okay, I guess.”

    “You guess?”

    “It’s just…I don’t see myself staying there much longer.”

    “What will you do?” asked Keith immediately thinking Toby was hinting at eventually leaving.

    “There are a couple of doctors in town that are interested in talking with me. It won’t be the same money, but it’ll be a lot less of a headache. I’ll get to act as a nurse, instead of a paper pusher all day…every day.”

    “So, you could get a job with one of the doctors in town?”

    Toby looked over at Keith realizing what was left unsaid. Even though they had been dating only a couple of months, there had been a seriousness to it that both felt. This wasn’t just a fling, something that would last a few weeks, then they move on to the next guy. He didn’t want to worry Keith, but he also didn’t want to assume Keith was thinking really long term. He too had his anxieties about their relationship. How long would Keith want him around? And could they ever take it to the next level? He wanted a relationship where they woke each morning and went to sleep each night in the same bed. One where they shared everything. The only thing he didn’t care about was a formal marriage, but he would agree to it, if that was asked of him. He would do it, for what it would mean to the other person, whom he was beginning to hope was Keith.

    “Of course. I like it here and…” Toby replied, unable to say what he was thinking, but when Keith looked at him, smiling, he knew it was okay.

    !

    Keith stormed out of the house, so furious he was red faced. He stomped across the yard heading toward the barn. There was no reason for it, other than to get away from the house where Toby was inside. How could Toby be so stupid? He was shocked at what he had done, quitting his job without one lined up. He was unemployed and everyone knew it was harder to get a job if you were unemployed. Everyone except Toby, obviously. When Toby had walked in earlier than expected, and announced he had quit, Keith had stood there shocked. What was he going to do? Would he be able to get a job with one of the doctors in town or would he ultimately have to move away to find one? It hit him like a punch in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe, and when he saw Toby smiling like he had won a prize instead of quitting a job, he grew angry.

    Toby had been confused at first about Keith’s response, but soon he was as angry, just as red faced, asking Keith what he expected him to do. He had become the whipping post at the clinic, the one always asked to stay late, or come in early, the one that got the worst patients. And when a patient got the wrong medication, the doctor had blamed him for it, when it was clearly one of the nurses, and that had been the final straw. He went to his computer in the office shared with other nurses and typed up his resignation letter, putting a copy on the doctor’s desk and taking the original down to the administration office. Two weeks and he was done.  By day’s end, when the doctor usually asked him to stay late, he overheard him called down to the administration office. By that point, he didn’t care what they talked about, and when his scheduled time arrived to leave, without being asked to stay longer, he grabbed up his things and left.

    Now he stood in the kitchen, on the verge of tears, not knowing what he should do. They had never fought like this, and it had escalated quickly. Keith had said he was reckless, being childish and should have stuck it out until he had another job. But he had yelled back about how Keith didn’t understand what it was like to work for others. And he didn’t know what it was like to be taken advantage of on a constant basis. There had been things said by the two of them, ugly nasty comments, until Toby made the one threat he didn’t really want to make. He saw how it brought Keith up short.

    “I guess I should just pack up and leave, since you think I’m such a child!”

    Keith had froze in place, but he was still angry too. He looked away, then headed toward the back door, yelling out along the way. “Fine. Pack your stuff and get out.”

    Trying not to cry, Toby went to the bedroom and threw his clothes and personal effects into two duffel bags. He went through the house picking up things that were his: the novel on the coffee table, the laptop on the island, his sandals by the back door. He tossed everything in the duffel bags and stormed out, afraid if he stopped and considered what he was doing, he wouldn’t make it.

    Keith walked through the barn to the field in back. He paced back and forth along the edge of it, his anger changing to worry and fear. He had gone too far. How could he tell Toby what he was to do with his career? He had no right. He headed back to the house, cutting back through the barn. As he came out, he saw the Cherokee back up, then with wheels spinning, speed away. He stopped and watched it disappear around the house. He heard tires bark on asphalt, then saw the Cherokee speeding up the highway, heading toward town.

    He took out his cellphone, pulling up Toby’s number. He looked at it, finger hovering over the ‘send’ button, but felt he had gone too far. He cleared the screen and turned back toward the barn. He would walk back through it and around the fields. He would walk until his legs ached and his mind was dulled and unable to think. It would be nearly dark by the time he finally got up the courage to go into the empty house.

    Sex

    ?

    Keith still felt like he was exploring someone new. Still finding those aspects that made them unique. The mole on the left ass cheek, the nail on the right ring finger that wasn’t correctly shaped (it was smashed by a car door when Toby was seventeen) and the way his ears curved and how the right one appeared ever so slightly lower than the left. Then there were the places a mere touched would make him shiver, or the places manipulated by his tongue that would make him beg to be fucked. The spot below the ears, the back of the neck just below the hair, each nipple, and the spot just above the ass cheeks, that little indention when manipulated caused him to push up and beg.

    It was only their third time to have sex, and it was new and thrilling as the first, but unhurried, their passions under control better than before.

    Keith held Toby’s legs to his chest and penetrated him, pushed inward until his abdomen pressed tightly to the firm ass. He felt fingers dig into his thighs, and it was encouraging, pleading in some unspoken way, and he began to fuck. To tug his cock outward until only the head remained inside of him, then he pushed forward, sinking it back into the depths of Toby’s hole. Over and over, he worked his cock through the tightness, until he felt the push back. Toby pushing to take him, every inch, and it spurned him on, made him fuck harder, faster, until the bed rocked and squeaked.

    “Fuck…fuck me harder,” Toby cried out.

    Keith moved over Toby, folded him over until his round ass lifted in perfect alignment and he drove his cock into it, hard, bouncing off of it with every push inward. The room grew hot, and skin slick with each place of contact. Sweat rained down on Toby as Keith toyed with him, slowing his pace at times, just easing an inch after agonizing inch through the battered opening, then he shifted position, held himself up and hammered cock into Toby, working his body until it felt feverish, burning up with his exertions.

    Toby cried out and Keith felt the cum splatter his chest and stomach. Then the smell of it hit his nose. He shoved into Toby’s depths and came, shuddering with every ejaculation.

    In the shower, Keith ran soapy hands over the lean, muscular body, exploring every curve and contour. The collar bone, the sternum and the curvature of each pec, and he ran his hands down, over the flat stomach and curve of the hips until he held the half hard cock, soaping it until Toby was pushing it through his fist as he grew erect. Toby turned to the wall, crossed his forearms on it, resting his forehead against them.

    “Do me again…please,” Toby whispered.

    Keith moved up behind him, his own cock angled out, already hard, and he eased every inch into him.

    “Fuck,” Toby cried out.

    Keith held his narrow waist and fucked.

    *

    Toby moved over Keith, and rocked his ass back and forth, rubbing the erection pinned beneath him. He moved on it, feeling it rub along is ass, and touch him there.

    Keith lay back, and watched him, the way he moved, and how his skin glistened wetly. They had been mowing the grass around the pond, and both were sweaty, and after some horsing around they were on the pier, the new boards smooth against Keith’s back. Their clothes lay scattered on the dam and they relished the heat of the sun on their naked bodies as they brought each other pleasure.

    Keith watched Toby rise on his knees, take his cock, holding it in position. He felt the resistance, then the squeeze on the head, then inch after inch of the shaft as he watched it disappear in him. Toby moved down until seated on it, and Keith threw his head back and looked up at the clear blue sky, amazed there was nothing to disrupt its purity. No clouds, no contrails, or birds. Nothing but pure vivid blue sky. But he couldn’t consider what it really meant, not its infinite nature, when every aspect of his being was focused on the feel of his cock as Toby moved on it. Up, then down, over, and over, the pace increasing. Toby fucked himself with abandon. Out in the broad light of day, out on the pier that cut over the calm waters of the pond, he moved on Keith. It was all familiar, every aspect of their fuck. The things that drove their arousal, the manipulations of flesh and cocks and openings that needed their tightness loosened.

    Toby leaned back, working his hips up and down, and Keith watched how Toby’s ass moved easily up and down the length of his cock. And he watched Toby’s cock, flopping up and down with his movements. Toby grew animated, more vocal, and Keith watched him take his cock in hand and stroke it in rhythm with their fuck. He was close and knew Toby would be soon.

    Toby cried out and a volcano of cum erupted from his cock. It rained down on his chest and stomach, the thick wads puddled in small pools, then trickled down the undulating torso. Keith grabbed each of Toby’s ankles and clung to them as he pushed upward and came. He jammed his cock into Toby’s depths with every ejaculation, until he was spent.

    Keith fell still and Toby moved to lay on him, the two of them heaving for breath.

    “No wonder it takes us so long to get the grass cut,” Toby joked, making the two of them giggle.

    “Fuck its hot,” Keith whispered as he wiped his brow.

    “Let’s cool off.”

    “I thought you wanted to fish. If we jump in, they will not…”

    “Come on, please?”

    That’s all it took. That’s all it ever took and the two of them climbed to their feet, stood side by side on the end of the pier and jumped, yelling like schoolboys.

    !

    Keith lay on his bed, covers kicked off. He had a hand down in his boxers toying with his cock. He was frustrated more than horny, but he did it anyway. He needed to feel something. To know he still could. He grew erect slowly, stubbornly slow. He almost stopped, so frustrated he wanted to cry. But he kept manipulating his cock until it finally responded, and he pushed his boxers down until around his knees. He worked his legs, until he was able to kick them off. He lay naked, cock in hand, and felt nothing. The quiet of the house was stifling and all he could hear was his own breathing and grunts. He sounded aggravated in lieu of aroused.

    He never leaked precum, not aroused enough to do so. He stroked his dry cock, letting it hurt some. When he finally felt his release build, he closed his eyes and imagined it. Against everything he tried not to do, he did it. He pictured Toby, naked, on top of him. He came, cum dribbling out and over his hand until he was a mess. He carelessly wiped his hand on the sheet and rolled over to go to sleep. He would lay awake for half the night, sleep not overtaking him until his fatigue was too great to stop it.

    Frames of Life

    ?

    Keith was so nervous, he tripped going up the sidewalk to the apartment where Toby lived. It was their first real date, having met the night before. Only hours before, Toby and he had been in his bed, but now that he was approaching the apartment door, he realized this was a first step to what he hoped would be something pleasant. A first date that led to other dates. To going out to restaurants, or preparing a meal at home, imagining the two of them working together in its preparation. He imagined the comfort of another in his bed, and the indescribable joy of waking with them by his side.

    He had worried about what to wear. Should he be casual or dressed up? Jeans and t-shirt, or dress shirt and khakis?  In the end he wore a white dress shirt with one of his better pair of jeans. At the door, looking at the number 24 over the peephole, he hesitated, taking a moment to compose himself. Then he knocked.

    Toby answered the door and Keith laughed, seeing him in a white dress shirt and jeans. Toby looked him up and down, then down at his own attire and laughed.

    “Come on in, and let me put on a different shirt,” said Toby, standing back to let Keith enter.

    “Don’t bother,” Keith replied, but was secretly glad to see Toby ignore him as he disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later, Toby came out pulling a black t-shirt into place. There was a flash of stomach and the arms bulged as they worked the t-shirt down and tucked it in.

    “I’ll be the bad one tonight,” Toby joked motioning to the black t-shirt and turning in place.

    Keith laughed, and for the first time that evening, didn’t feel a nervous wreck. “You ready to go?”

    “Yep.”

    Keith drove them to Greenville, pulling into the small town and parking near the restaurant that sat in an old hardware store. The lights inside were low, glimmers of ember from exposed bulbs glowing through the storefront. In front, a few were talking, either just leaving or arriving for dinner. Keith led Toby past them and inside, seeing the looks, knowing how it must appear. But he knew the area. They may suspect, but if not confronted with two gay men, they’ll keep quiet, voicing their prejudices and judgments amongst themselves.

    The hostess met them as soon as they walked in and led them to a table on the far wall. It was positioned under a mural of a garden of vegetables, the plants in full bloom or just producing their first crops, with bees and butterflies hovering over all the plants. Toby ordered the wine, and once glasses were sat before them, they ordered dinner.

    Their conversation would move beyond the milestones of each one’s life, to the more personal aspects. Those events and people who influenced them, made them who they were today. They talked about their agnosticism, neither ready to fully embrace what they knew to be true, and when someone came in wearing a political t-shirt, their conversation drifted to politics and the despair they felt as it seemed the country was going backwards in so many ways. Then they talked about goals in life, something that Keith didn’t know how to express. How do you say you want to be a good farmer, someone who respects the land and the bounty it can offer? How do you explain a desire to do things differently, as different as the life you so desperately want for yourself? Toby listened, at times giving him the words he struggled to find. Then Toby told of his own goals. He wanted to be a nurse, a real nurse that did more care and less paper pushing. He knew the latter had to be done, but he didn’t want it to dominate his professional life. He saw himself in a small practice, one that took care of all the people, regardless of their status in life, or their physical appearance.

    And the night progressed until they were the last one’s at a dining table.

    !

    It had been six days. Six long, sleepless, agonizing days. Keith found himself dumping his dinner into the garbage, unable to eat it. He paced the area between the kitchen and living room, picking up his keys and putting them back down so many times he lost count. He had been sad before, felt the pain of loss he didn’t think he could ever get over, but this was different. This wasn’t his grandmother, or one of his friends from grade school who just didn’t show up one day, only to hear later there had been an accident at the farm. This didn’t have to be permanent, to leave him with a hole inside that would never be filled.

    The argument seemed so ridiculous. Of course, it was better to have a job waiting before quitting the one you had, but what about the position Toby kept finding himself. The way he was always the one taking up the slack, the one staying late, day after day. He had no right to challenge Toby on what he had done, for he didn’t know what it was like to have others dictating your every move. As a farmer, his only real nemesis was the weather, something no one could control.

    His mind was a scrambled mess of thoughts, and he couldn’t focus on any one of them, much less what was on the television or what sounds of the night were being made outside. The passing of a pulpwood truck, a motorcycle that revved with a high pitch squeal, or the other traffic that ran on the old two-lane road. He grabbed up his keys again, this time determined to go. He slipped on his sandals, put his cellphone in his pocket and headed to the back door. He flipped off the lights as he swung it open and froze when he saw him standing on the other side, hand raised to knock.

    “Toby?”

    *

    A year had passed since that night, the one that found Toby standing at Keith’s back door. A year after their only real argument. There had been many minor ones since, little disagreements that one or the other would quickly give in, letting the other have their way. There had been a couple of weeks of them regaining their footing and make-up sex, then the months of living together. They never denied their relationship, admitting it to those bold enough to ask. There were admonishments, judgments of the most primitive kind, but there had been support and acceptance too.

    The master suite addition was finished last month, and now the yard was simply decorated. A few flowers arranged in the rear yard, the focal point a small platform with two arrangements on each side, and the peach trees in full bloom behind it. The Henderson’s boys were playing music, soft instrumentals that seemed to still the air. Their family and friends sat in the white chairs arranged in two small groups, leaving an aisle between them. Keith’s second cousin, Curtis, moved down the aisle, someone able to perform the ceremony, and the music changed to an old familiar song, the one used at nearly every event such as this.

    Keith and Toby came down the aisle, holding hands and smiling nervously. They moved slowly, afraid of tripping, until they were on the platform, facing Curtis. The ceremony was short, but more honest than most. They traded rings, slipping them on the other’s finger, then kissed, Keith turning red, embarrassed by this public display. Everyone stood, cheering them, as they moved back down the aisle.

    Then they partied, celebrating this union, and the next phase of their lives.


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  • From the Same Cloth

    All Jim had to do was strip off his T-shirt and he was naked and ready to go. But the Burton men were still mostly dressed, and Jim savored the sight of them stepping out of their matching suit pants, the way the long, thick muscles of their big legs articulated, the near-identical way they shifted. It was a little bit like watching a mirror reflection, only one side was lightly patinated with age, a little distorted, the man in it showing thicker than the fresh-faced young stud opposite him. Jim doubted Hugh and Blake knew how similarly they moved, how crazy alike they looked even in the simple act of taking their pants off. He was likely the only person who’d ever seen it before, and the thrill of that – the privilege of being invited to see it in action – coursed through him, vibrating all the way up through the thickness of his wet-tipped hardon as he slow-stroked it and admired them.

    God damn, this was quite a thing, what was happening between the three of them tonight. And for all of his misgivings this past week about everything that had gone down, the anxiety and recriminations and self-doubt that had been twisting at his guts ever since Blake had stepped up to him in this very room a couple days ago and he hadn’t stepped back, Jim wouldn’t have traded a single moment of it all. Made all this that much richer, deeper, hotter now. And so far, they’d barely even scratched the surface of all the things they could do together. Jim felt himself thrilled to the core, like a kid on Christmas morning, and he couldn’t help but grin.

    Blake took off his pants – his father’s pants – and laid them neatly over the back of the armchair by the closet door. Jim watched Hugh watching his son, the way his best friend’s eyes raked over his strapping son’s studly form, the movement of his big, long thighs and powerful young ass, a smile on his face. Jim could see a lot in that look – pride, of course, but something more intimate too, a streak of desire that Jim had never seen Hugh direct at his son before. Even under the intense, heated circumstances they were in, it was a surprise to him – a hot kind of surprise, though, one that set off spot fires all around the steady-burning heat in his loins.

    Blake turned and took Hugh’s pants too, laying them carefully beside the first pair, and there was a similar kind of look on the big kid’s face when he looked to his handsome father, a mix of respect and warmth and subtle desire of his own. Fuck, they looked so damn good together, even more than usual, their lower bodies exposed, all muscles and hard, near-identical cocks standing up proud below their shirttails, still half-clad in suit jackets and shirts. Jim found himself squeezing just below the head of his cock, trying to hold off the suddenly impending load he wanted so badly to shoot.

    Hugh reached out to his son, thick fingers taking hold of the lapels of the handsomely tailored suit jacket his son was wearing, running them down the tapers. It was an incredibly intimate thing to watch, made even more so by the exposed musculature of Blake’s torso showcased by the unbuttoned shirt he wore, the proud arc of his big, hard young cock between them, matching his father’s. Blake’s cheeks colored a little as he looked down at his father’s big hands moving over the fabric, then up at his father’s face again, the desire coming up more strongly in his expression now, simmering beneath the respectful way he regarded the man who’d made him.

    “You wear it well, son,” Hugh rumbled in that low, rich baritone of his.

    “Not as well as you do, Dad,” Blake said, his voice a younger copy of Hugh’s. “Got some growing to do before I fill it out like you.”

    Hugh smiled, ran his hands up to Blake’s broad suited shoulders, and turned him around, facing the big mirror by the closet. Jim watched as his best friend smoothed his big hands over his son’s brawny shoulders, feeling incredibly privileged to witness this intimate moment between the handsome men. Blake let out a sigh as Hugh’s strong hands traveled outward across his shoulders, down the thick shape of his upper arms, then back up again to the collar. The big young stud shifted around inside the jacket, moving with his father as Hugh slipped it from his shoulders and laid it on top of the pairs of suit pants over the back of the chair. His hands returned to Blake’s body, moving slowly over the fine cotton of the dress shirt, and the strong young musculature beneath, the two of them looking into the mirror.

    “You’ve grown up real fine, buddy,” Hugh murmured. “Couldn’t be prouder.”

    Hugh tugged his undone tie from around Blake’s neck, draped it over the growing pile of clothing on the chair, then returned his hands to Blake’s handsome frame. The way he trailed his thick fingertips down over the rich fabric of the dress shirt was incredibly sensual to Jim, and that was just watching it – he couldn’t imagine how it must feel to Blake. Well, he could – he knew pretty well the feeling of Hugh’s fingers on his own body, but that touch must have been something even more heightened for Blake, now. 

    He found himself starting to stroke again now, slowly, savoring the feeling as he took in the sight before him, watching Hugh’s surprisingly nimble fingers undo the buttons of Blake’s shirt cuffs, then trail up the length of his arms, over his chest, to the collar of the shirt. It rustled softly as Hugh eased it back off his son’s shoulders, the muscles in them bunching beautifully as Blake shrugged his way out of the last stitch of fabric. And then he stood, naked and glorious, his cock carving a thick, hard, wet-tipped arc, as he and his father gazed at his reflection in the mirror before them.

    “Real damn fine, son,” Hugh said, voice low and deep and rich, his hands coming to Blake’s lats. Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Blake’s shoulder, and Jim could see the big young stud’s cock bounce in the air as he sucked in a ragged breath, his cheeks flushing brightly again.

    Blake turned slowly back to face his father, and it was Jim’s turn to catch his breath now, waiting to see what came next. The two men looked at each other, and then Blake reached out, tentatively at first, then with his father’s innate self-assurance, to run his hands up over the fabric of Hugh’s suit jacket, and the brawny, bulky musculature beneath it. Hugh grinned, his cock bouncing a little, and let his son admire him for a moment, before the big kid slid his hands under the lapels of the jacket and pushed it back off his father’s beefy shoulders.

    Jim watched, dry-mouthed but wet-cocked, as Blake reverently undressed his father, silent but attentive, stripping away the last threads that had made them look so similar tonight. Blake was all sculpted young muscles and taut skin dusted with manly hair, but Hugh was thicker, brawnier, his body more furred. His middle-aged beefiness wasn’t so much a contrast to Blake’s fine young form as a complement, a predictor. Jim could see the way Blake was taking the full measure of his father now, seeing not only where he’d come from, the man who’d defined him, but what he could look forward to becoming, in time.

    “Damn, Dad,” Blake said at last, his voice getting some of that deeper character that Hugh’s had, as his hands stroked over the beefy swell of Hugh’s furry pecs. The two of them smiled at each other, a long moment when the air felt like it was crackling with electricity, like a summer night with a big storm about to break. And then both Burton men turned their heads in unison and focused their smiles on Jim, and it suddenly felt like the storm was here.

    “Fuck, you two…” Jim muttered, shaking his head in disbelief as the Burton men shot each other a grin, then moved towards him.

    Hugh was the first to reach him, one thick, furry arm slipping round Jim’s waist, the sensation of his bare skin against Jim’s a familiar one, but just as electric as the first time they’d connected like this. The kiss came easily, years of practice fueled by fresh lust as they met openmouthed, thick tongues dancing and entwining, Jim running one hand up Hugh’s brawny flank, the other over the muscled terrain of the arm reaching for his own beefy chest. To his left, he felt a second set of arms twine round him, his skin thrilling to the touch, as Blake joined them in their manly embrace, pressing a series of moist-lipped kisses to Jim’s shoulder and the side of his neck.

    “Shit, you guys look good together,” Blake growled, and with his eyes closed, Jim might have mistaken his voice for Hugh’s, if Hugh’s tongue weren’t at that moment real busy trying to tie Jim’s in a knot inside his mouth.

    Blake’s big ballplayer’s hand slid across the thick, muscular swell of Jim’s torso, savored the powerful beef of him, then down, following the trail of mature fur over his belly, down deep into the rangy curls of his bush. Jim moaned into his best friend’s mouth, as his best friend’s son wrapped his strong young hand round the throbbing thickness of Jim’s hardon, his other hand caressing over the powerful, rounded mass of Jim’s glutes, and for a moment there, Jim came real close to hosing his cum all over Hugh’s bedroom carpet.

    Blake kissed his way up Jim’s thick neck to his ear, and nuzzled there for a moment before murmuring, “Wish I’d known about you two a long time ago.”

    Jim and Hugh both grunted at that, Jim extracting himself from the deep, lusty lovers’ kiss to turn to Blake, struck again by the crazy funhouse-mirror aspect of being so close to them both in such a small, intimate space. He licked his lips reflexively, tasting Hugh on them, as he fixed his gaze on Blake’s. The kid was grinning at him, eyes sparkling, and the timewarp effect was amazing, taking Jim right back to that first moment over a decade ago with Hugh, that first kiss in his garage, that same grin and sparkle and hungry heat radiating off of him.

    “That right, buddy?” Jim said, voice husky with hunger and thick with spit from the kissing. “What if you did? What would you have done about it?”

    Blake’s grin twitched a little wider.

    “I dunno,” he said. His hand stroked along the rigid, sticky length of Jim’s cock, up and down, as he flicked his tongue over the smooth, beefy swell of Jim’s shoulder. “Would you have done something about it, Uncle Jim?”

    Jim growled at that, reached up for Blake’s handsome face, and brought it to his, feeding the stud a hungry kiss that brought a moan deep from Blake’s tight, muscled belly, while beside them, Hugh growled his lusty approval. Now it was Jim’s turn to take Blake’s big dick in his hand, giving the big-cocked jock the benefit of decades of experience making other men moan. He could feel Hugh’s hands roaming over his flesh, across his body, taking in his son’s now too, drawing the three of them closer together. That made Jim grasp Hugh’s son even more tightly, kiss him even more deeply, especially when he felt the slick hardness of Hugh’s thick cock pulsing against his skin, then the slow, delicious rasp of his tongue up the side of Jim’s neck, like the ultimate seal of paternal approval.

    “I dunno about then, kid,” Jim grunted when they came up for air, slipping an arm around each of the Burton men’s waists. “But we’re here now, and I think we’re all ready to do something about it, right?”

    The Burton men grinned at each other, nodding, then at him.

    “Let’s fucking do it, then,” he growled, tugging them with him as he moved towards Hugh’s king-sized bed.

    This time it was Jim’s turn to get lavished with attention, sprawled out across Hugh’s big bed while the Burton men explored him with hands and mouths. Hugh had always been a real sensualist, tactile and engaged, skilled at putting his big hands to work on another man’s body. It was no surprise to find Blake was much the same way, moving his big, strong young hands over the terrain of Jim’s powerful body, often followed directly with his lips and his tongue, murmuring appreciatively as he went. The kid had natural talent, much like his father, but even so, this couldn’t have been his first time with another guy, not as passionate and involved as he was as he explored Jim’s thick, mature frame.

    Blake nuzzled his way up Jim’s beefy torso to lick at his stiff tit like it was a homing beacon, seemingly knowing that Jim’s left nipple was the more sensitive. Jim gasped at the sensation as well as the sight of Blake’s face, that time-machine echo of his father’s sexy grin as he came up Jim’s body and homed in on his pleasure zones like they’d been fucking together for years. Blake winked at him as he closed his lips around Jim’s tit and lashed it with his tongue, making Jim writhe and growl with electric pleasure.

    “Yeah, that’s it, son,” Hugh rumbled from above, one hand sliding up his son’s arm to squeeze his shoulder. Blake waggled his eyebrows up at his father and hummed around Jim’s tit, then took his pulsing cock in hand and started to stroke him again. Jim moaned deeper at that, but it was swallowed up by Hugh’s mouth covering his and engaging his tongue in that slow, sexy dance they’d perfected over their years of fuckbuddy bonding.

    “Fuck, slow your roll, buddy,” Jim gasped after a few delicious minutes of that, feeling his load boiling up all over again. He clamped his hand round Blake’s wrist and guided it off his cock, bringing it up to his other pec. Blake let go of his tit and slid up his flank, and Jim met him openmouthed as they slid easily into a kiss, as if they’d been doing this for years. On his other side, Hugh nuzzled his ear, then glided his tongue up the inner curve of it, making Jim shiver all over just like he knew would happen. He strummed on Jim’s right nipple as he murmured into Jim’s ear.

    “You and my boy look real good together, brother,” he rumbled, and Jim moaned into Blake’s skilled young mouth. He maneuvered his arm up behind Hugh’s head, drawing him close, so that he could easily come up out of his kiss with Blake, turn his head, and slide his tongue inside his best friend’s mouth.

    “He’s as hot as you are, bud,” Jim said, just before the kiss. “Every bit your boy.”

    That got another lusty growl out of Hugh, and the two men kissed with hunger, starting to devour each other while Blake let out a soft grunt of his own, stroking Jim’s body and nuzzling his shoulder as he watched the mature studs make out.

    When they parted, Jim was struck by the warmth in his best friend’s deep blue eyes, the sense of connection between them, the particular intimacy they shared. Sharing it with someone else now, for the first time. It was thrilling and a little bit scary at once, and for a brief, weird moment, Jim thought about Jump School back in his soldiering days, about the combination of fear and excitement, flinging himself out the door of a C-130 high over the Georgia countryside, nothing but a thin stretch of silk parachute between him and the hard ground below. On the whole, this was a far finer experience, though, two big, hard cocks pulsing against either hip, two sets of muscular arms around and all over him, two handsome faces either side of his. All thrilled to be here, together, doing things men could do with each other, nobody else around to tell them no. An experience for the ages, for sure, one Jim would carry with him the rest of his life.

    “I wonder if he fucks like you do, brother,” Jim said, and there was no mistaking the way both father’s and son’s cock throbbed against his hot skin on either side. Hugh’s eyes widened, sparking a little, and Jim felt an instant of tension inside himself, wondering if he might have somehow fucked all this up. But Hugh shifted his hips, a small, deliberate thrust of his big cock up Jim’s side as his lips stretched in a lusty grin Jim knew very well.

    “I wonder about that too,” Hugh said, then looked over to his son, Jim’s eyes following his. Blake looked almost comically horny and surprised at once, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what these two men he admired so much were saying about him. What they were suggesting, and all the dense, hot layers implied in it.

    “Fuck, you guys,” he murmured, looking back and forth between them.

    “Well… one of us, at least,” Jim grinned, slipping his other arm around the stud kid, noting the second throb-pulse of Hugh’s cock against him at that, and the matching one from his son, too.

    Jim unhooked his arm from around Hugh’s neck, brought his hand down and found the insistent hardness of Blake’s big young dick. Wrapped his paw around it and stroked it, feeling the hot, sticky solidity of it, its feel at once familiar but also a little bit distinct, too. It was a hell of a piece, all thick and coursing with veins, solid and hot in his grasp, leaking a steady flow of precum as Jim skilfully handled it. It was every bit as fine a cock as his father sported, but it was fine in its own right, too.

    “Big-cocked stud,” Jim grunted, loving the lusty, pleased expression Blake got at the manly praise. He might be a man now, but he was still a kid inside. “Bet you fuck every bit as good as your Dad does.”

    Jim fixed the kid with a direct, understanding, manly kind of gaze.

    “Like the man you are, son,” he said, and Blake let out a lusty, helpless kind of noise at that and lunged for Jim’s mouth with his own, kissing him with hunger and energy.

    “Fuck you right, Uncle Jim,” he panted when they separated. “If you’ll let me.”

    “Kid, I’ve been thinking about it for days now,” Jim growled, voice thick with spit and desire.

    Blake looked across Jim to his father, who was regarding him with a kind of amused, but proud paternal grin. Hugh gave him a simple, single up-down nod.

    “So why don’t you show us, stud?” he rumbled, and Jim couldn’t help but grin at the way Blake squared his shoulders with pride and purpose, as he nodded back at his father.

    The last time Jim had fucked around with a kid Blake’s age, he’d been a kid Blake’s age himself. He wasn’t expecting a lot of finesse, the kind of skilful, experienced attention Hugh brought in spades. But then, Blake was every bit Hugh’s son, after all, and Jim guessed some things just ran in the blood, as he watched the big young jock lick-kiss his way down the powerful middle-aged thickness of Jim’s torso. Blake had a natural appreciation for a man’s form, especially Jim’s, and just like the other day when they’d first fooled around, Jim experienced a mix of pleasure and surprise and gratitude at Blake’s obvious desire for his thick, well-lived-in frame.

    Hugh and Jim alternated between deep, lusty kisses and watching Blake work, watching Hugh’s son slide down the length of Jim’s frame to take hold of his hips, then his thick, rugged thighs. Jim felt that fire in him stoked even higher in anticipation, knowing he was about to get fucked, and especially who was going to fuck him. His cock was throbbing, leaking a slow strand of precum down into the fur on his stomach, aided by Hugh’s thick-fingered yet light, stroking touch up and down his skin. Jim looked at his best friend and fuckbuddy, watching him watch his own son, and he found himself thrilling to the mix of warmth, excitement, pride, and heat in the big guy’s eyes. It made all this so real, this scene which was straight out of porn, so unlikely and out-there and utterly fucking hot nonetheless.

    Blake looked up at both men, from Jim to Hugh and Back again, as he crouched between Jim’s big thighs, spreading them wide with stroking, covetous hands. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed the inside of Jim’s knees, the skin just above them, sending radiating thrills all the way up to Jim’s loins. Blake alternated kisses up and down the insides of Jim’s thighs, then swiped up the length of each with his tongue, long, slow savoring licks that were crystal-clear echoes of his father’s approach to mansex. Jim reached to stroke his cock, really savor the feeling, settling back into Hugh’s big arm as he did. But Hugh brushed his hand away, replacing it with his own as he turned to his friend and kissed him, slow and deep and lusty, while his son opened Jim up even more.

    Jim moaned into Hugh’s kiss as Blake’s hot, excited breath caressed his balls and coursed over his taint. Hugh growled back, Blake adding in a husky moan of his own as his talented tongue swept up over the fatness of Jim’s balls, up the broad length of his throbbing-hard cock, all the way up to the tip. Jim reached for Blake’s head with his other hand, stroking it as he lapped at his cockhead, savoring the salty, mineral musk of Jim’s freeflowing precum.

    “Fuck, buddy,” Jim growled, coming out of the kiss, looking down at his handsome buddy’s equally handsome son, right as Blake locked eyes with him and opened up, slipping his full lips down over the head of Jim’s cock. Jim moaned and clutched at Hugh with his other hand.

    “Your boy’s suckin’ my cock, Hugh,” he panted, as Hugh growled in reply, both men staring down at the big young stud slurping his way slowly down Jim’s length.

    “He sure is, brother,” Hugh murmured, eyes fixed on the incredible sight of his own son, sucking another man’s cock. His man’s cock. “Doin’ his daddy proud.”

    It was Blake’s turn to moan, low and deep, all around Jim’s cock, sending further waves of pleasure buzzing all through his loins and up his insides. Blake bobbed his head up and down on Jim, taking in a good part of him with each suckstroke, his big hand gripping the base. He was no kind of expert at this, but he sure had a natural talent for it. Just like his father. Looked to Jim like a great many things ran in this family, and fuck, was he ever grateful to discover it.

    Hugh’s hand joined Jim’s on his son’s head, fingers curling into his hair, and the sight of Blake’s big blue eyes locking onto his father as he sucked Jim’s cock was another visual memory for the ages. His father’s touch seemed to inspire Blake, who lavished Jim’s thick length with his lips, tongue and spit, making the precum flow even harder, making Jim’s toes curl. As insanely hot as all this was, the sight of the kid staring at his father as he worked Jim over took it over the top, and soon Jim had to clutch warningly at Blake’s bobbing head, trying yet again to ward off the intense orgasm he wasn’t quite ready to let loose just yet.

    Blake came slowly up the length of Jim’s cock with a grunt and a pop, licking his lips with a lusty growl as he grinned up at the older men.

    “You taste fuckin’ good, Uncle Jim,” he growled, his voice thick with spit and heat, giving Jim a wink. Then he slid his hands along the insides of Jim’s thick thighs, getting purchase, and pushed them up, opening Jim up in a whole new way.

    “Aw fuck!” Jim growled as Blake dove in with lusty, youthful eagerness, burying his face deep between Jim’s thighs, lapping at his musky cleft and pulsing hole with his big, eager tongue.

    “Attaboy,” Hugh said, ruffling the hair on the back of his son’s head before turning Jim’s face to his for another plunging, hungry kiss.

    Down below, Blake growled manfully as he licked at Jim with eagerness and skill. Jim had always figured a big, good-looking young dude like Blake was getting plenty of pussy, and if he was anything like his father, he was eating plenty of it too. Turned out he was even more like his father than Jim had expected – nobody had ever eaten Jim out the way Hugh did, but goddamn, his son was running a close second already. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder at all the experiences Blake had had in his young life, what he’d discovered about himself along the way, how many other guys he’d made buck and squirm and leak and moan, the way he was making Jim do now. This kid he’d watched grow up, for chrissakes. The kid he’d come to think of as a lot like his own son. Jesus christ.

    Hugh came up out of their kiss and fixed Jim with a lusty, happy, playful look.

    “My boy treating you right, brother?” he asked, and in the moment, Jim would have walked across a thousand miles of hot coals for this man.

    “Like you do, bro,” Jim half-moaned, loving the way Hugh’s eyes flared with pride at that. “Just like you do.”

    “This is fuckin’ something, huh buddy?” Hugh grinned. “You and me, and now him too.”

    “It’s fucking amazing,” Jim moaned.

    “Bet it’s gonna get even better, my man,” Hugh said, and fuck… my man. Yeah. That was it, right there. Before he could think of something to say in reply – and he wasn’t real confident he could, not with everything Blake was doing to him, licking his way up inside of him the way his father did so well – Hugh was shifting from his side, up on his knees, big and brawny and manly as fuck, reaching across Jim’s body to take hold of his thighs.

    “Lemme open this big fucker up a little more for ya, son,” he said, and Blake and Jim moaned together at that.

    Hugh’s big hands tugged Jim’s thighs up, the two men moving together with the ease and intimacy of long experience, exposing more of Jim to his son. Blake took the offering eagerly, big ballplayer’s hands spreading Jim even more open, burrowing deeper inside Jim, traces of young stubble grazing against the sweaty, spit-moistened, super-sensitive skin of his taint and ass as he worked.

    Jim’s head dropped back against the bed as he savored it all, four big strong hands on his flesh, a tongue inside of him, the heat and musk of men in full rut together. Just like when he and Hugh fucked, but more intense now with Blake joining them, adding his own hungry urgency and sweat and scent to the mix. Jim rode Blake’s talented tongue for a good few minutes, listening to Hugh murmur deep, husky encouragement to his son, urging him on like the proud father he was, and he thought he might lose his mind.

    He looked to his right, saw the powerful swell of Hugh’s big ex-jock ass looming in his periphery, and felt the hunger rising in him like it always did. Found himself reaching out the beefy swell of the man’s ass, thick and powerful, muscled but plush too. A powerful ass on a powerful man, strong and shapely and more irresistible than ever. Jim clapped one hand on it, watching it ripple in that way that always tweaked his cock just right. Dug his fingers into the meaty flesh, digging deep, before stroking his paw over the expanse of it. Hugh grinned over his shoulder at him, arching his back a little, offering his meatiness up for Jim’s appreciation.

    “Gimme that fucking thing, you big stud fuck,” Jim growled hungrily, a gleam in his eyes matching the one in his best friend’s. “Show your boy how a man does it.”

    Hugh chuckled throatily and levered his big body up, Jim’s paws on his ass guiding him over as his straddled his chest and offered himself up. With a hungry growl, Jim spread his glutes wide, opening up his deep, hairy cleft, and dove in lustily.

    “Aw fuck, brother,” Hugh growled as Jim licked at him, pushing his big ass back more, inviting Jim in deeper. Jim lapped at the tight knot of fur-lined muscle, savoring the dense, musky, masculine taste and scent of the big guy, growling and digging with his tongue. He tasted good, real fucking good, a flavor made for a man to appreciate as Jim delved deeper into him with the long, agile muscle of his tongue. Hugh’s hips rocked as he rode his best bud’s eager tongue, savoring the experienced way Jim devoured him, all suckling lips and swirling tongue, thick fingers digging into thicker flesh all around. Jim closed his eyes and luxuriated in it, the taste of his buddy and the sensations of his buddy’s son doing the same to him, just as avidly, hungrily, two tongues exploring tight hot holes together while the biggest of them all loomed over them, enjoying his own deep ride.

    “You gonna fuck him, buddy?” Jim heard Hugh ask his son after several long, delicious minutes. “Show him how much of a Burton man you are?”

    Jim growled up inside his buddy at that, savoring the way the big man shivered all over. He could feel his cock twitching in anticipation, matching the thrilling pulsating of his hole around Blake’s eager, talented young tongue. The middle of his torso was warm and wet from the precum he knew was flowing from Hugh’s big, chunky cock. This was all going so great, and it was only going to get better.

    He felt the long, warm press of Hugh’s body lowering down over him, and then groaned up inside the big man as Hugh’s mouth enveloped his cock, taking over where his son had left off. Jim smacked Hugh’s beefy ass and pulled his face out of it, wriggling out from beneath him to see. He sucked in a lungful of fresh air after the musky humidity of Hugh’s big ass, moaning as he watched his handsome best bud, and his best bud’s even handsomer son work him over. Christ, they were a sight, and he could see them looking at each other, practically head to head as their mouths pleasured him, turning his loins into a cauldron of heat and lust and need.

    “Aw you hot fucks,” Jim moaned, smacking Hugh’s ass again and smoothing his hand over the thick flesh as it rippled, stroking over Hugh’s haunch and thick thigh. He twisted his torso around so he could reach his fingers into Blake’s hair, teasing his fingertips over his scalp, just the way his father liked to have done to him when he sucked Jim’s piece. Blake grunted around his girth and shot a warm-eyed glance up at him, followed by a wink, then returned his gaze to his father’s as the two men licked and sucked and swallowed Jim, inside and out.

    All too soon, he could feel the surge inside of him again, brought right back to the boiling brink by this pair of family studs, and he squeezed Hugh’s ass warningly with one hand and patted Blake’s head with the other.

    “If you wanna mount up, now’s the time, stud,” he panted, as Hugh came up off his cock with a loud, long, lewd slurrrrrrp. A few moments later, Blake reeled his tongue back from inside Jim’s ass, sitting back and reaching for his big, hard young cock, swiping the sweat and spit from his reddened lips.

    “Fuck yeah I wanna,” Blake growled, voice thick with spit and lust, the echo of Hugh deep in it.

    “Attaboy,” Hugh grinned. “Show Jimbo here how us Burton men fuck.”

    “Shit, I already know, buddy,” Jim said.

    “So let’s give you a basis for comparison,” Blake said, and yeah, he was just like his Dad, alright. He could have anything he wanted.

    “Where do you keep your lube, Dad?” was one of the sexiest things Jim had ever heard, and from the look that shot between them, he knew it was hitting Hugh just as hard.

    “Left bedside drawer,” Jim said, his gaze still locked on Hugh’s. Blake huffed a quick laugh behind him.

    “Guess you really know your way around here, huh Uncle Jim,” the kid said as he reached for the drawer.

    “He does alright,” Hugh said, running one hand up the inside of Jim’s thigh with a grin.

    Like the back of your Dad’s neck, kid, Jim thought to himself, meeting Hugh’s grin with his own before hooking one beefy forearm around the big guy’s neck, pulling him down so their lips could meet too.

    Sure, it was still a trip, kissing Hugh like this with his son right there. But Hugh’s tongue had a way of making you forget most everything else, and it was doing its usual magic on Jim as the big guy lowered himself along Jim’s body, running his hand down the mature swells of his frame.

    “How’s my boy doin’ so far, bud?” Hugh asked when they unwound their tongues, as Blake stepped back to the bed, lube in hand, watching them, his big cock curving up hard towards the ceiling.

    “Chip off the ol’ block, brother,” Jim grinned, and the beam of pride Hugh gave him, then his boy, gave Jim a warm, paternally proud feeling all inside too.

    The two men watched as Blake squirted a stream of lube into his palm. Blake blushed winningly at their attention, then squared his shoulders and slowly slathered it all over the handsome arc of his cock. He looked confident – cocksure, Jim thought to himself with a grin – but in an unshowy kind of way, and he had every right to be. His cock was a virtual twin of his father’s, big and handsomely formed, the kind of cock that promised a very good time to the lucky recipient.

    Jim found himself licking his lips, feeling the anticipatory tingle down low in his body, watching the big young stud making his proud young cock gleam with slickness. Hugh levered himself up and held out his palm to Blake.

    “Let me help you out, stud,” he said, and Jim loved the way Blake’s eyes flared at that, the rapt edge of adoration in his gaze as he nodded to his father and poured another stream into the older Burton’s palm.

    Jim let out a low growl as Hugh turned back to him and started to lay a coating of the stuff down over his tingling hole, cool and slippery, something the big guy had done to him hundreds of times by now, but just as thrilling every time.

    “Get him nice and slick for ya, son,” Hugh said to Blake, who grunted softly, stroking his big gleaming piece slowly. “For that big fuckin’ piece you’re toting, there.”

    “Thanks Dad,” Blake murmured, and fuck, the air was practically crackling with the electricity humming between them. Jim felt his cock bounce in response, at the hot edge of possibility hovering over them all now, especially the Burtons. It was powerful, something he’d never considered possible, but here they were. In the flesh, with him, nothing but skin and sweat and lube and that potent, electric vibe between them.

    “Fuck, brother,” Jim growled as Hugh slipped one lubed finger up inside him, watching Blake’s eyes lock onto the action. Hugh worked his thick, long finger deftly around, then deeper inside Jim, continuing all the good work Blake’s eager young tongue had done, then taking it further by slipping another finger inside of him, stroking it slowly, slickly over the hum of his prostate. Jim’s hips bucked, his body well conditioned to this, working with Hugh, trying to meet him halfway as the big guy prepped him for his big stud kid.

    And then, it was time. Hugh extracted his big, swirling fingers slowly, as Blake stepped up close between Jim’s thick, spread thighs, the two of them moving in sync, as if they’d had years of practice at this. Jim felt a shiver run through him at that notion, and licked his lips again as Blake placed one hand on his thigh, the other still slow-stroking his cock.

    “Can I fuck you, Uncle Jim?” he asked, voice low and deep and respectful.

    Jim felt a swell of love for the kid inside, matched by the swell of his cock. He nodded, smiling.

    “Been lookin’ forward to it, son,” he said, and there was that little flare in Blake’s eyes again. “Come on, stud – show me what you can do.”

    “Yes sir,” Blake nodded, a hungry grin spreading across his face as he stepped up to the plate.

    “Aw fuck, yeah,” Jim groaned as he felt Blake’s thickness sliding inside of him. Blake had taken his time entering him, probing at his thoroughly tenderized, lube-slicked hole, letting Jim get to know him down there. Not that he needed to – he was built like his father from head to toe, cock very much included, and it was like an old familiar friend, a best bud of long standing, as Blake inched it inside of him, getting the thick head of it past the ring, giving Jim a moment to get the feel of him. Then with one strong hand clasping Jim’s beefy hip, Blake nodded to him and pushed on inside, a firm but restrained stroke that hinted at the power the kid had in his trim, athletic hips.

    “Yeah buddy,” Hugh growled beside them, and the glance Blake shot at him was pure heat.

    “Fuck you feel good, stud,” Jim grunted, and Blake turned that boyishly pleased smile on him, before fixing him with a more intent, manly look as he slowly, smoothly fed him his remaining inches, all the way to the root in one long, gliding thrust.

    “You got me, Uncle Jim,” Blake murmured. Jim let out a moan of pure contentment, feeling Blake throbbing inside of him, reflexively tightening up around the kid’s big cock, dragging a ragged grunt from the big young stud.

    “Attaboy, son,” Hugh said, reaching over to squeeze Blake’s bulging triceps, and the two men shared another long look, freighted with love and pride, and hunger too.

    The kid looked better than ever, big pecs perfectly formed, crowned with two stiff red-brown nips just like his father’s, big and prominent and begging to be sucked. If he were ten or fifteen years younger and still had that kind of flexibility, Jim would’ve curled up and sucked each one of them. But for now, he contented himself with running big hands up Blake’s muscled arms, down over his pecs, just at the limits of his reach. Now it was his turn to receive that look from Blake, pride and awe and lust, and yeah, more than a little love in it too.

    Jim bathed in that look for a moment, the feeling of Blake’s big hands stroking over his skin, the throb of his cock inside of him, the heat and scent rolling off the stud kid, redolent of his father’s natural masculine scent, but with notes of his own, too. Blake’s hands slid up his spread thighs and then back down again, taking hold of his hips, his eyebrows raised, asking for permission.

    “Yeah, stud,” Jim said, voice suddenly thick, husky. “Let’s see what you got.”

    What Blake had was talent, a natural cocksman’s stroke game, an athlete’s power and control coiled inside his hips and core. He fucked Jim with a jock’s prowess and a lover’s concentration, working Jim’s hole and insides and prostate over with a series of beautifully executed fuckstrokes, using his length and girth to their full advantage inside the big man. He had his father’s knack for reading Jim’s face and body, knowing what was feeling good for him, when to pick up the pace, when to slow it down.

    “Fucking beautiful, buddy,” Hugh growled, Jim nodding in agreement.

    “Your boy can fuck, brother,” he half-moaned, as Blake grinned with that mix of modesty and pride and heat, corkscrewing his hips, shifting his cock inside Jim’s tight-clutching tunnel in a way that had his toes curling, gasping with pleasure as Hugh rumbled his approval beside him. Then he drew his hips back, pulling most of his ample length out, before thrusting back into the root with a solid, strong thrust, looming over Jim, meeting the older man’s gasping mouth with his own and covering it, filling his mouth with his probing tongue as he filled his hole with his eager cock.

    “That’s my boy!” Hugh cheered, and Jim could hear the smack of his buddy’s hand on his son’s flexed ass, Blake grunting along with it into Jim’s mouth. Jim could feel Hugh’s hand trailing over his flesh, and when his touch disappeared, he knew it was caressing over his son’s statuesque form. That just made all this even hotter, the seamless flow building between them, the three of them moving together now. When Blake pulled back from his mouth, leaning back up to give himself leverage so he could fuck Jim at a different, equally toe-curling angle, Hugh was right there, breath hot on Jim’s lips as he instinctively turned to meet his fuckbud’s searching kiss.

    “Fuck, you two look good together,” Blake grunted above them, and Hugh broke the kiss briefly to reply.

    “And you look great with us, son,” he said, turning back to Jim to plunge his tongue hungrily back into his mouth, running one hand over his beefy left pec and squeezing it.

    “Fuck yeah,” Blake murmured, and set to fucking Jim harder.

    “I want a piece of you too, fucker,” Jim growled to Hugh when they pulled apart again, several minutes later.

    “Yeah, stud?” Hugh grinned, running his hand down Jim’s sweaty trunk to find the hard, sticky throb of his drooling cock, giving it a slow, 1-2 stroke. Jim grunted at that and clamped his hand over Hugh’s thick wrist, feeling the load roiling inside his fat balls. He wanted to ride that surging pleasure inside of him longer, savor the sweet singing ache in his loins as Hugh’s big stud kid masterfully fucked him, very much like his father did, but with his own distinct skills and rhythms in the mix, too.

    “Hell yeah,” Jim said. “How many guys will ever get to say they got spit-roasted by a real dad and son?”

    Hugh growled deep in his throat at that, eyes flaring. “You will, brother,” he said, leaning in to lick a bead of sweat from Jim’s temple, giving him one of those deep looks that warmed Jim all the way through. “Hopefully often.”

    “Oh hell yes,” Blake grunted above them, and the two men grinned at him, before Hugh climbed up onto his knees. The way Blake’s eyes hungrily swept over his father’s frame was unmistakable, zeroing in on the fat, leaking sway of his big paternal cock, then meeting his eyes again.

    “We gonna take this big humpy fucker together, son?” Hugh said, voice thick with desire and something deeper, something connecting the two of them.

    Yessssss,” Blake half-whispered, eyes getting big and excited, tracking every movement of his father’s body as Hugh squeezed his brawny young shoulder, then shifted up the bed towards Jim’s head. “Let’s fuck him, Dad.”

    “Jesus Christ,” Jim moaned, watching the way the Burton men smiled at each other, and he wondered how fucked-up it would be to fall for both father and son together.

    For now, though, Hugh was giving him something much more immediate to think about, and just as big, looming by his face, several inches, hard as a teenager’s, thick and sticky and musky with sex and promise. Jim shifted his head over and flicked his tongue at it, groaning with hungry, husky satisfaction at the taste, as familiar as his own by this point, after all these years. Hugh chuckled lustily and pushed his hips forward, giving more of the cock Jim loved as much as his own – though down below, Blake was really starting to give his father a run for his money in that department.

    Jim reached out and took that handsome piece in hand, guiding it in, flicking warm eyes up at his best friend as he opened up and slid his lips down the handsome girth of it, his tongue gliding down the underside, salty and tangy and tasting purely of man, sweat and precum and pure unadulterated fuckmusk. He growled happily to himself as Hugh pressed forward, working together with skill and ease and a deep connection.

    “Good boy,” Hugh rumbled quietly, deeply above him, stroking thick fingers over Jim’s sweaty, stubbled cheek and jaw with a lover’s lightness of touch, and Jim couldn’t help but moan in response, to the words and the touch and the sheer depth of their connection.

    Hugh kept moving, Jim’s head and suckling mouth moving with him, nursing on the rich tang of his lover’s cock as the big guy got into position, knees and thick thighs astride Jim’s head as he grabbed one of the pillows from behind him and slid it considerately under Jim’s neck and shoulders. That let Jim’s head tilt back and opened up a smooth, wet, clutching pathway for his cock, all the way down Jim’s throat. Jim moaned deep in his beefy chest as Hugh braced his head with his big ex-ballplayer mitts and slid inside him, slow and smooth and considerate, but relentless all the same. Jim swallowed just as relentlessly, letting himself be filled from the top down, just like Hugh’s stud of a son was filling him from the bottom up.

    In amongst the intense assault on his senses and his orifices, the rich smell of Hugh’s bull balls as they grazed along his nose, the delicious intensity of Blake’s big young cock touching all of his spots as he thrust up into him, Jim got a crazy mental image of the Burtons’ big, hard cocks meeting in the middle, deep in his core, the fat, drooling heads of them meeting, kissing, pressing together, and he felt his own cock bounce at the notion, crazy and impossible as it was. He let the image recede in his mind, behind the fog of pure unadulterated manlust happily clouding it, and focused all his attention on breathing and swallowing and the sounds of lusty contentment his best friend was making above him.

    The army had taught Jim to be a soldier, but it was the soldiers who’d taught him how to suck cock, way back when, and he’d only gotten better and better at it – and he’d been pretty gifted at it in the first place. Here in Hugh’s bedroom was the one place outside his own mind he could feel proud of that, the one space where a married suburban father could really revel in how well he could take another man’s cock. Hugh backed up his gratified, lusty moans from above with the smooth thrust of his powerful hips, fucking his face and throat with a kind of relentless grace that belied his big, brawny physique. Down below, he could feel Blake’s fuckstrokes shifting too, falling into rhythm with his father, the two big Burton men pumping him deeply at each end, father modeling the ideal to his son, how to fuck a man and fuck him right.

    Maybe it was being the center of their powerful attentions, the privilege of being the man who got to take them on together first, or maybe it was just Hugh’s balls crowding his nose, filling what air Jim could breathe in with musky humidity. Whatever it was, Jim could feel himself getting a little light-headed, a little high off the powerful vibe and feelings coursing through him, through the three of them together. He knew he’d have to stop soon, or at least get Hugh to back off some, so he could get more than just cock down his airway. But for now, he was exactly where he wanted to be, savoring all the tastes and scents and sensations of being thoroughly skewered by the two hottest men he’d ever known.

    Blake was doing his utmost to fuck Jim right, as Jim worked his considerable skills to suck Hugh down, Hugh relishing it all as he reached down to palm, stroke, then intently thumb Jim’s stiff tits, making them sing along with every other erotic nerve in his body. He reached up behind Hugh, clapped both hands on the powerful, thrusting muscles of his hairy ass, and growled deep in his throat, around his buddy’s big cock, as he enjoyed this wild ride.

    “How’s that ass, buddy?” he heard Hugh rumble above him.

    “So fuckin’ good, Dad,” Blake moaned back. “He this good for you?”

    “Every damn time,” Hugh said, reaching down to stroke Jim’s pecs, and Jim couldn’t help but moan in response, to the touch and the warmth in his best friend’s voice. “Best I ever had.”

    “I don’t doubt it,” Blake grunted, switching up the pace to give Jim a sequence of, hard, fast thrusts with his powerful young cock.

    “You’re fuckin’ him just how he likes it, son,” Hugh went on, and god damn, the man knew how to set off those secondary waves of erotic electricity all through him, Jim thought. “Doin’ me proud, stud.”

    “Aw Dad, fuck,” Blake hissed, and Jim could sure relate to the helplessly turned-on, lost-for-words tone in his voice.

    Talking with his son just seemed to spur Hugh on even further, making him thrust harder and deeper down Jim’s throat. Jim was willing, sure, and plenty accommodating, but Hugh was a big boy and a lot to take, even with their long experience together, and soon he was starting to really feel the effects, starting to see little dots at the edge of his vision from lack of oxygen. He tapped Hugh’s thrusting, flexing ass with both hands in warning, and Hugh immediately backed off, backing his long, thick shaft out of Jim’s throat. Jim couldn’t help himself even as he sucked air in through his nostrils, making sure to give the retreating head of Hugh’s cock a thorough tongue-bath, making the big guy growl and clutch the sides of his head a little tighter as he extracted himself.

    “Jesus Christ, Uncle Jim, look at you,” Blake half-gasped, and Jim knew he looked a sight, eyes red and streaming from the effort of deep-throating Hugh, his lips red and slick with spit, long silvery threads of it connecting them to Hugh’s withdrawing cock. “Fuck,” Blake grunted as he watched Jim lick his lips clean with a hungry grin and a wink, followed by Hugh bending down swiftly to kiss him and share it, the two big men grunting into a hot, sloppy, hungry mankiss that had them clutching at each other, riding the manly intensity of their bond. All the while, Blake picked up his pace, fucking Jim with even more determination and hungry young energy, as he watched the men go deep on each other’s mouths.

    “Look at you, buddy,” Jim said when they separated, voice thick with spit and lust, reaching up to stroke over the bulging muscles of Blake’s arms, curling up as best he could to trace the bunched power of his broad shoulders, grunting as the angle changed the way Blake’s cock hit him inside. “Fuckin’ stud kid,” he added with a lusty growl, Hugh grunting behind him in agreement.

    “Look at this studly fucker you made, brother,” he said to Hugh. “Your boy.”

    Hugh grunted in agreement again, and just like Jim, his gaze was locked on the sight before them. Blake looked incredible, the muscles of his arms bulging as he held fast to Jim’s hips, his torso a wall of articulating muscles as he fucked, his pecs pumped up and starting to gleam with sweat, his abs flexing and shifting, every muscle in his upper body seeming to bulge with the athletic pump of the masterful fuck he was delivering. Fuck muscles, Jim thought hungrily.

    Above all that was his face, a study of focus and concentration, hunger and heat, alternating between the broad, delighted grin of a guy enjoying his favorite pastime, and the wrinkled forehead and gasping, open mouth of a man in utter thrall to his lust, to the intensity of fucking another man, and fucking him well. He’d always been a good-looking kid, growing handsomer as each year passed, his features resolving, strengthening, refining into manhood. Jim could see all that in him now, the boy he’d first gotten to know over a decade ago, the strapping teen athlete he’d grown into, and now the man he’d fast become. More than that, Jim could see so much of Hugh in him, and never more than now, beads of sweat on his fine brow, the flush of lust and exertion coloring his cheeks, the intensity in his gaze as he stared down at Jim and drove his thick young cock relentlessly up inside of him.

    He looks just like Hugh did our first time, Jim thought with a kind of deja-vu awe, and the memory of that incredible first time with his best friend, the power of their connection, and the sight of Blake in full lover’s form with him now all came together for him in a way they hadn’t so far tonight. It was like a second layer of heat spreading up through him, complementing and reinforcing the waves of lust and desire already flowing through his frame.

    To his side and above him, Hugh was stroking Jim’s shoulders, running a big hand through his sweaty, close-cropped hair, breaking away to jack his cock as he enjoyed the show. Jim glanced up at his lover and saw him in utter thrall, staring at his son, drinking in the sight of him – drinking in him – in that way Jim had never seen him do before, a powerful mix of love and pride and desire. Hugh seemed to sense Jim’s gaze on him, looking down at him with a sudden furtive embarrassment and an uncharacteristic blush. Jim reached over and squeezed his forearm, nodding up at him, man to man, one father to another.

    “He’s beautiful,” Jim grunted. “Your boy, brother.”

    He’d never seen Hugh smile the way he did at that, relief and gratitude and paternal pride all mixed together, and he found himself reaching up to pull the big man back down to him, their lips brushing against each other.

    “Thank you,” he murmured against Hugh’s lips, before they crushed against his, Hugh’s tongue almost desperately seeking his out, hungry and needful and powerfully connected.

    When their kiss wound its way to its end, Hugh crawled over Jim’s sweaty form, stroking one hand down through the sweat along the center of his torso as that big tongue of his licked over the thickness of Jim’s beefy frame, muscles jiggling from Blake’s increasingly powerful fucking. Their fuck styles were a little different in the details, but at the core, Hugh and his son had the same rhythm, their bodies giving off the same signals, and Jim knew they were well and truly in the home stretch now. On the one hand, he was ready, more than ready; on the other, he never wanted any of this to end. But it would, and soon, if his own throbbing, drooling cock had any say in the matter. It was all gonna end spectacularly, he knew it.

    Hugh’s breath on his cock just made it bounce even more urgently, leaking a thicker stream of precum onto his sweaty stomach, and both Jim and Blake moaned as Hugh’s big tongue lapped up Jim’s pre. He swabbed the sweat and juice from Jim’s belly, following a strand of pre back up to the angry red head of Jim’s cock, wrapping his lips and tongue around it and working his way down almost to the root, almost into the sweaty mesh of his son’s pubes on Blake’s in-stroke, growling happily, hungrily as he did.

    “Fuck, Dad,” Blake grunted, and from the way he smiled as he stared down at his father swallowing Jim’s cock, Jim knew there was some serious, electric eye contact going on between them. Hugh reached up to grip Blake’s muscle-corded forearm and squeezed as he bobbed up and down on Jim’s cock. Then he slowly backed up off it, leaving it gleaming with his saliva. Swabbed Jim’s stomach with his tongue again, savoring his sweat and musk. Looked over his big shoulder to lock eyes with Jim. Jim felt his stomach flutter, knowing something real big was going down now, and in the instinct-driven heat of the moment, he just nodded at his best friend.

    Hugh nodded back at him, rubbed his hand almost tenderly down Jim’s torso, then turned back to his son, still smiling down at him with awe and wonder and a kind of delight. Hugh dipped his head to slide the warm, wet width of his tongue down the length of Jim’s cock, from tip to root, making him moan and clutch at his best friend’s beefy shoulder. And then seamlessly he licked across Jim’s big, almost achingly full balls, just as Blake fucked up into Jim’s throbbing hole, Hugh slipping an arm around his son’s tight waist to hold him in place. Then Hugh leaned forward and licked up Blake’s lower stomach, and from the way the big kid moaned, Jim was sure it was all over, and he was about to get the creaming of his life.

    But no, Blake managed to hold back. Hugh paused for a moment, and it felt to Jim like time had frozen, nothing but the sounds of the three men breathing heavily. Blake looked down to his father, then across to Jim, a mix of desire and something like confusion on his face. Jim just nodded back, and Blake answered it with one of his own, uncertain. Then his hand moved hesitantly to the back of Hugh’s head and rested there.

    “Dad…” he said softly, the boy he used to be coming back out in his voice. Jim couldn’t see the look that must have passed between them, but he saw the corners of Blake’s mouth twitch up, and then a smile slowly spread across his face as he looked down at his father. Hugh let out a low murmur in response, and then Blake moaned and curled his fingers into Hugh’s sweaty hair, closing his eyes as Hugh went back to work on him. It was a powerfully erotic moment in its own right, and Jim found himself gripping his throbbing cock tightly as he stared in surprised awe at the two men before him, father and son, letting the lust that had been coursing between all three of them bind them tighter in the moment.

    Hugh licked lustily up his son’s muscled belly, following the trail of hair that was coming in stronger across his abs now, on its way to mirroring his father’s dense, virile furline. All Jim could do was let out a gasping breath at the sight, his best friend stroking his tongue up his own son’s fuck-pumped stomach, up to his chest, Blake staring down at him with a kind of dumb, horny awe. Jim could feel the kid’s cock throbbing inside him, and he was pretty sure if he squeezed him with his hole, the show would be over. So he pushed back that urge and held as still as he could, hand on his cock, unwilling to do anything that might break this sudden, intense new moment.

    Hugh rose up on his knees as he reached Blake’s big chest, burying his nose and lips in the little thicket of manly fur in the deep cleft between them. Jim could hear him inhaling the kid’s scent, and watched as Hugh handled his own cock, halfway between a stroke and a squeeze as he savored his big stud of a son up real close. Blake was cupping the back of his head now, and looking as much like his father as he did, it was like a reversal of the typical father-son embrace, Blake mirroring the way his father used to hold him close after a loss on the field when he was just a kid. It was powerful, emotional, sensual all at once, and again Jim felt the profound privilege of being able to witness it in person, to be invited into the Burton men’s intimate bond, one which was growing even more intimate with every passing minute.

    Hugh nuzzled his way up through the thatch of fur on his son’s chest, rising up to his full height slowly as he stroked his lips up Blake’s thick neck. Blake tilted his head to one side, opening himself up to his father’s attentions, his eyes drifting closed, something like ecstasy on his face, the ghost of a smile traced on his lips as he moaned softly. Hugh’s hand left his cock and stroked across Blake’s stomach, squeezing his hip, then rose up his flank, up the swell of his perfectly formed lat as his lips worked up to his son’s ear.

    Jim couldn’t hear what Hugh murmured softly to his son, just the quiet, deep rumble of his voice, the way Blake squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, Dad,” back to him. Jim didn’t need to hear the words – they weren’t his to hear, after all. They were just for Hugh and Blake, between father and son. But he could feel the way Blake’s cock throbbed inside of him, and that was all he needed to know. Found himself smiling fondly at the two of them, locked in their intimate clinch.

    “I do too,” Blake said in reply to whatever private words his father had shared with him, and the two men smiled at each other. Two sides of the same coin, that mirror-image thing again as they gazed at each other. Even more so when they both leaned in closer at the same time, and brushed their lips softly together, compressing against each other in a soft, lingering kiss.

    Ah god damn, Jim thought as his cock throbbed and bubbled even more pre in the tight grip of his fist. He let out a low, long sigh as he took in the amazing intimacy of them, etching it into his memory.

    “Ah buddy,” Hugh rumbled, full of feeling. Blake grazed his lips against his father’s and murmured back, “Yeah, Dad.”

    It was tough to say which of them went for it first, but it seemed just as likely that it happened at the same time. Either way, their lips parted and they connected, the Burton men kissing each other truly for the first time, the gleam of their tongues visible in the low light from the bedside lamp, Blake’s younger-sounding moan matched by his father’s deeper one as those tongues connected and their open mouths fastened to one another. Blake’s cock pulsed even harder inside Jim as he slid his muscular arms around his father’s thick, powerful frame, the two of them gripping each other tighter as they moaned deeper, the sounds of their hungry lips and tongues filling the air over the bed.

    Jim let out a ragged breath, trying his damnedest not to just rapid-stroke his cock and blow his roiling load at the sight. He’d always loved kissing, especially another man, particularly Hugh, and watching two men kiss had long been his favorite thing to see. He’d experienced both of the Burton men’s skills at it, and he could only imagine how it must have felt for each of them, to be kissing each other, openmouthed and hungry, on fire with fast-building manly lust, groping at each other as their tongues entwined in perhaps the ultimate act of incestuous intimacy, Blake’s cock throbbing intensely inside Jim the entire time.

    The two of them were unrestrained, like they’d torn the lid off something that had been roiling inside of them for a long time, and Jim couldn’t help wondering about that. How long they’d been sharing this home together, two handsome, virile men, and the secrets they might have been holding close to themselves. As deeply involved as he and Hugh had been, especially these past few years, Jim had never picked up on the barest hint of anything like this from him, the intensity of the desire Hugh was showing his studly only son. The way Blake’s eyes had flared the other day when Jim had called him “son” in the midst of their first hookup, sure, that had been a little bit of a sign, but nothing approaching the lusty way Blake was kissing his father back now, clutching at the thick-muscled beef of his frame, letting the man who’d made and raised him enfold him in his big arms and take him deeper.

    He could have watched them all night, and from the looks of them, the hungry way they were devouring each other, he suspected the Burton men could have kept going like this all night, too. Maybe it was just the culmination of the rising, lusty intensity of the night so far; maybe it was the first bloom of some long-simmering, powerful attraction between them. Either way, it was fucking spectacular, and now that some of the initial surprise had started to fade as he watched, Jim felt that enveloping glow of love for these men. Something like pride in them, and a sense of joy that they’d found this connection together. That he’d been the catalyst for it, in a way.

    Hugh and Blake’s kiss eventually slowed, less intense, more sensuous, and Jim loved the way Blake was smiling around the edges as he and his father let their tongues dance. His eyes gleamed as he regarded his father, then looked sideways to Jim, crinkling around the edges as he included Jim in that smile, even as his cheeks colored a little. Jim smiled right back at him, nodding, his cock still throbbing in his tightly clenched fist. Hugh was the one to finally break it, leaving Blake to lick his lips, looking a little dreamy, especially when Hugh reached up to ruffle his son’s hair affectionately.

    “OK, buddy?” Hugh said. Blake looked at his father, almost uncertain there for a moment, looking yet again like the boy he used to be. But then that handsome smile he’d inherited from his father broke across his face as he nodded, squeezing his arms around his father’s big frame.

    “Yeah, Dad,” he said, voice thick and a little husky. “Better than OK.”

    “Good,” Hugh smiled, pecking his lips softly and slowly like he had when he’d started them up like this. This time, when Hugh pulled back, Blake took a long moment to look at him, then brought his hand up to cup the back of his father’s head, leaned in, and kissed him, another slow, languid, deep exchange of tongues, this time with Blake leading.

    Hugh chuckled when they finally separated. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

    Blake blushed a little and dipped his head modestly. “Just wanted another shot at that, in case we never get to do it again,” he said, flicking his eyes back up at his father’s again, a look that read as playful and hopeful at once.

    Hugh rumbled deep in his chest and stroked his big hands up and down Blake’s muscular flanks, leaning back a little to look his big, studly son almost ostentatiously.

    “I don’t think you need to worry about that, son,” he said, his voice amused and carrying an undercurrent of heat that seemed to stroke Blake’s balls the way it did Jim’s.

    “Fuck yeah,” Blake said, awed and dreamy at once, smiling in response to his father’s wide, sexy grin. “Anytime, Dad, you fuckin’ stud.”

    Hugh let out a low, rumbling bass growl that Jim felt in his core, then slid his thick, hairy forearm round Blake’s waist. The two of them turned to look down at Jim, still sprawled out below them, still stuffed with Blake’s big cock, still trying not to cum. But not for much longer – after all this, Jim was more than ready to go.

    “Sorry, brother,” Hugh said with a bit of a shit-eating grin, reaching down to squeeze Jim’s flank, then trail his fingers over his chest. “Didn’t mean to leave you high and dry.”

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jim grinned back, lifting his cock-holding hand to show them the thick coating of precum lining his palm, a long strand of it connecting the head of his cock and his thumb. “Do I look dry to you?”

    Hugh let out a playful growl at that, but it was Blake who reached for his wrist, bending forward to bring it up level with his face, then leaning in, eyes on Jim’s, and slowly licking it up.

    “Oh god damn, buddy,” Jim growled, as Hugh rumbled his lusty approval too, even more so when Blake bent nearly double again, lifting Jim’s head to kiss him. Jim devoured his tongue, his own taste thick on it, and fed him plenty in return too, as Hugh ran one big hand over each of their bodies.

    “I think we’ve neglected our guest long enough, son,” he said.

    “I think you’re right, Dad,” Blake said with a grin when he pulled back from the kiss, grinning at Jim and looking him deep in the eyes as he drew his hips back, and thrust the full length of his cock back up inside Jim once more.

    “Aw fuck, you two,” Jim moaned, shaking his head in disbelief. How had he lucked out like this? Well, he could ponder the mysteries of fate later on. There were more urgent matters at hand.

    “Maybe him,” Blake grinned, building up his fuckstrokes slowly, steadily, nodding his head at his father. “But not me.”

    He gave Jim that direct look again, and between that, his thick young cock doing a number on his insides once more, his smile, the way he looked so much like the hot single-dad neighbor Jim had first fooled around with over a decade ago, Jim was seeing stars all around.

    “Not yet, anyway, Uncle Jim,” the kid added, right as he thrust his full length to the hilt inside Jim, and then bent in again to kiss him some more as he fucked him.

    When Blake bent back up from their long, deep, hungry kiss, he got a real focused look on his face, and set to work fucking Jim in earnest. His strokes were stronger, faster, more intent now, displaying his fuck game for Jim and Hugh, justifiably proud of his studly abilities. Hugh took the opportunity to swoop in, taking Jim’s cock back in his hand, swallowing it to the root with that surprising swiftness he could bring. Jim clutched at Blake’s big arm with one hand, and the back of Hugh’s head with the other, and let the Burton men take him higher.

    All too soon – though he supposed it was long overdue, really, by this point – Jim could feel his load coming, and this time, it was coming hard, coming fast, undeniable and inevitable now. Before, he’d been doing his damnedest to hold it back, sure he’d never get the chance to experience all this again. But it sure as hell seemed like the Burton men weren’t just open to more, they were eager for it, with him and each other. This wouldn’t be the last time he got to ride this intense, incredible wave with them, he was certain of it.

    Hugh came up off his cock, took Blake’s focused face in one big hand, and met him in a long, lusty kiss, the two of them grunting as they swapped tongues and spit and the rich taste of Jim’s throbbing cock. Hugh looked back down at Jim, saw the look on his face, the way his mouth was starting to gape, his brow creasing, the flush on his chest, the way his eyes were starting to get all distant – all the signs he knew well, from long and deep experience.

    “He’s ready, son,” he said to Blake, still looking deep into Jim’s eyes. “Let’s bring your Uncle Jim home, stud.”

    “Ah Jesus,” Jim panted. It was like Hugh’s voice, his words were summoning his load. Looking up at the two of them, Hugh’s handsome, knowing face, and the near-identical one on his son just above his shoulder, the two of them looking perfectly identical now as they gave him the same lusty, encouraging look, right down to the way they were nodding at him now… that was just about the cherry on top of all this.

    Blake wrapped one arm companionably round his father’s neck, sank his long fingers into the beefy flesh of Jim’s hip, and curled his hips, working his lower abs more with each stroke now, making his cock hit Jim in a whole new way now, a way that was the last straw. Hugh just capped it off by wrapping his big paw around the throb of Jim’s cock and giving it the perfect finishing stroke.

    “Come on, brother,” he rumbled. “Show my boy how good you look when you cum.”

    “Yeah, Uncle Jim,” Blake panted. “Show me how you look when my Dad brings you off.”

    “Fuck that,” Jim moaned. “Show me how you bring me off, stud.”

    Blake’s eyes sparked at that, as he let out a low, lusty growl and fucked him faster, and it was all over for Jim. He clutched Blake’s forearm with one hand, the beefy mass of Hugh’s upper arm with the other, fingers digging deep into the flesh of both Burton men, then let out a long, loud, guttural cry, and came for them. Came hard, his hips lifting off the sweaty covers, growling as his cock started to pump his seed, hot and thick and abundant, all up the sweaty, heaving beef of his torso. He’d always been a big shooter, but he swore he’d never shot like this, jet after jet of hot, thick seed painting his flesh as his lover and his lover’s son urged him on with nods and growls and strokes and thrusts.

    “God, look at him cum, Dad,” Blake gasped through gritted teeth as he continued to thrust, Hugh growling in response.

    “Look at you making him cum, son,” Hugh said, and shit, if he wasn’t already thoroughly emptying his balls, that might have been enough to get Jim going all over again.

    Jim flopped back on the covers, big chest heaving, lightheaded and slightly delirious, feeling the uncontrollable grin splitting his face. Hugh slowly milked the last thick dribbles from his cock, while above them both, Blake gritted his teeth, betraying his own closeness, riding the edge of his own load.

    “My turn,” he gasped. Hugh moved with that stealthy quickness he had, up on his feet at the end of the bed, hip to hip with his son, slipping his arm round the big kid’s tight waist, his other hand stroking his cock. Jim gazed at them both and put his ass to work, milking Blake’s cock as best he could as he shuddered through the last waves of his own orgasm, unable to stop smiling.

    “Can’t wait to see, buddy,” Hugh murmured to his son, Blake turning to him with a rapt, spacey expression, nodding at his father. “So fuckin’ proud of you, big guy.”

    “Aw Dad,” Blake moaned, the two of them leaning in at the same time, meeting in the middle with lips parted and tongues already emerging, kissing with hunger and love and pent-up desire. Blake started to whimper into their kiss, Hugh rumbling in reply, his hand beating his big paternal cock faster and faster as they devoured each other’s mouths.

    “Cum for me, son,” Hugh growled against Blake’s lips. “Cum for your Dad.”

    Blake just moaned, and fucking hell he sounded like Hugh right then, as he thrust his hips hard, powering his cock up inside Jim’s clutching hole, one-two-three.

    “Yeah, let’s cum together, buddy,” Hugh growled, his voice tight in a way Jim knew well. The two of them came together in another kiss, and just like that, Hugh was raining his thick, hot cum across Jim’s belly, up the valley between his pecs, his seed overlaying Jim’s.

    Beside him, Blake moaned and shuddered, and just as Jim thought the big stud kid was going to breed him, Blake yanked his hips back, freeing his big, gleaming, angry-headed cock from Jim’s hole and taking it in hand. Jim barely had time to gasp at the sudden emptiness inside him, before Blake triggered himself off with a quick 1–2 stroke, joining his father in shooting ropes of thick Burton cum across the heaving terrain of Jim’s torso.

    “God, you stud fuckers,” Jim groaned, playing his fingers through the fast-accumulating stripes of cum, even as Blake continued to shoot, shivering in his father’s half-embrace. It was a big load, easily the equal of his father’s – a big, healthy young load from a big, healthy young stud. Hugh nuzzled at his son’s shoulder and neck, looking proud and content as he milked the last of his load from his cock, supporting his boy as Blake squirted the last of damn near a dozen shots.

    Blake leaned into his father, slipping his arm round his waist, and let out a long, loping chuckle that Hugh soon joined in as they rested their heads against each other and looked down at Jim. Jim grinned at them, swirling his fingers through the streaks of cum, fixing them with a gaze as he slid his sticky fingers into his mouth and sampled their combined efforts.

    “Fuckkkkkk…” Blake murmured at the sight, as Hugh grinned down at Jim, nodding slightly.

    “How’s my boy taste, brother?” he said as Jim smacked his lips, letting out a deep-chested rumble of approval.

    “As good as his Dad, at the very least,” he said, winking at Blake. “Maybe better. Fresher, for sure.”

    “Well shit, here I thought you loved this fine vintage,” Hugh said, gesturing at himself, and Jim had to laugh.

    “What can I say,” Jim said, pushing himself upright and shuffling his ass to the end of the bed, taking both Burton cocks in hand. “I got a… what do they call it… a diverse palate.”

    Jim leaned in and slowly sucked Hugh’s still-hard cock to the root, savoring the rich, familiar flavors of his best friend. He sucked his buddy’s thick length clean, then licked his lips and did the same for Blake, savoring the way the kid moaned and clutched the back of his head. Maybe Blake tasted a little sweeter than his father did, a little less seasoned. But close enough to identical, and just as savory, for sure.

    “Why don’t you see for yourself, brother,” Jim said thickly, sitting up, reaching for the back of Hugh’s neck to pull him down, meeting him halfway. Hugh didn’t hesitate to open up to him, growling as Jim slid his thick tongue into his welcoming mouth, tangy with his son’s cum. The two men grunted together as Hugh ran his big, wide, wet tongue all around Jim’s mouth, swabbing up the traces of his son’s young cum, swallowing it down hungrily.

    Two strong hands reached for Jim’s flanks, the Burton men pulling him up to join them, Jim pulling back from his kiss with Hugh to bring Blake into it. Blake met Jim’s mouth as eagerly as his father had, maybe even more so.

    “You taste damn fine, buddy,” Hugh murmured to his son, and Blake made a needful noise into Jim’s mouth, then pulled back, reaching for his father now, kissing him gratefully, hungrily, right in front of Jim’s face. Their arms slipped round his waist together and drew him in, into them, and soon they were making room for him to join them in their languid incestuous kiss. Of all the incredibly fine things they’d shared with him tonight, Jim thought that this might just be the finest of them all. He didn’t bother trying to compare them anymore; he just savored the experience of them both, together, and let himself become one with them.

    *   *   *   *   *

    “Fuck, I hate that I gotta go,” he said a little later, the three of them packed into the big glass shower stall in Hugh’s bathroom. He’d always loved showering up with Hugh after they fucked, the way they languidly soaped each other up and kissed and enjoyed the afterglow together. But it was a real trip, now, getting to experience Blake like this now too, feeling up his big young muscles, his strong young frame somehow familiar but new too.

    He could tell Hugh was enjoying it just as much as he was, and he was glad there didn’t seem to be any awkwardness between father and son, after all they’d done together tonight. It had been an amazing night, a real gamechanger, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how much bigger it was for the Burton men. He envied Hugh, in a way – not in a bad sense, just a kind of wistfulness, getting to bond with his son like this. The two of them had a connection that Jim couldn’t fully share, a father and his son discovering each other as men in a whole new way, and perhaps themselves too. Jim hoped it could continue to be good for them, between them. What they’d all done tonight was the kind of thing that could fuck everything up, and he loved both these men too much to see that happen. He’d never forgive himself if it did, for playing the part in it that he had.

    For now, though, things between the two of them seemed real tight, as solid and strong as they’d always been, overlaid with a different kind of closeness now. Even better, they were making him feel a part of it, their bonded connection. He sure hoped they’d continue to know each other like they had tonight, and get to know each other even more. That he could continue being a part of it, and that the Burton men would continue to explore their connection on their own together, too.

    “You know there’s always a place for you here, brother,” Hugh said, looking at Jim with warm eyes that made him tingle deep inside, squeezing his hip fondly.

    “Plenty of room for you, Uncle Jim,” Blake added, pressing a soft-lipped kiss to his shoulder and smiling at him. Jim saw the boy he’d watched grow up in that smile, and the man Blake had become too. Felt that glow of paternal pride inside himself, as he stroked his knuckles over the kid’s big left pec.

    “Not gonna get between you two,” Jim said. “If you guys… you know…”

    From the warm look that shot between Hugh and Blake, Jim knew they would. After tonight, as beautiful as they were together, as tightly bonded as they already were, how could they not?

    “Shit, brother, I was kinda hoping to get you between us again,” Hugh grinned, reaching down to give Jim’s hanging cock a slow, soapy stroke that threatened to start things up all over again. And really, would that be such a bad thing?

    “And besides,” Blake added, stroking his soapy hand over the thick, powerful swell of Jim’s ass, “I think it’s me who won’t be getting between you two.”

    Jim shot Hugh a look, and the two men chuckled together, their long history as lovers laid bare to Blake in every sense tonight. Blake looked at them both, from one to the other, an encouraging smile on his handsome young face.

    “I dunno, stud, I kinda think your Dad and me might have some different ideas about that,” Jim said, stroking his knuckles down the muscles of Blake’s trunk, down into the soapy tangle of his bush, trailing fingertips down the length of his thick cock, savoring the way it responded to his touch. “But that’s for another time.”

    “Can’t come soon enough,” Blake half-moaned, his cock starting to thicken, Hugh leaning in to nuzzle his son’s neck in a way that was both tender and sensual, and sexy as hell.

    “Don’t worry, we know you can come again and again, son,” Hugh rumbled, as Blake moaned softly at their attentions. “I know I could at your age.”

    “And we know you’re every bit the man your Dad is,” Jim said, pressing a kiss of his own to Blake’s other shoulder, reaching behind him to squeeze his spectacular young ass.

    “One hell of a man in your own right, too,” Hugh added, and whatever else he might have said was swallowed by his son’s hungry, lusty kiss.

    Jim watched the Burtons kiss again, two similar faces, two similar men, perfect counterparts to each other, and he knew things were going to be OK in the end. Even better than that along the way, for sure. He looked forward to being as much of a part of it as he could be, with the man he knew so well, and the one he was getting to know in his own right. They slipped their forearms around his waist and drew him close, and Jim slipped his own arms around their backs and let himself be drawn, ready to discover more of how alike they were, and how much their own men they were too.

    The End

    (Copyright a4ftales 2020)


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


  • From the Fields

    Riding the backroads between Butterworth on the Malay peninsula, across the water from the island of Penang, and the plantation manor at Taman Binjai on Mountjoy, with Sebastian on the lead behind me, I glimpsed a disturbance off in a cinnamon tree field at the side of the pathway. An undulating furry pelt peeked out incongruously from between the cinnamon trees, giving the impression that some poor animal was caught in some manner of a trap and struggling to free itself. Not knowing if danger was on offer but not wanting a creature to suffer if it was caught in the vines, I guided Mountjoy and Sebastian off the road and into a stand of palm trees running beside the field in which I could advance to near the spot unseen.

    It was with a certain sadness and feeling of loss that I was returning from taking erstwhile stable boy, Malik, to Butterworth to hand him over to a tavern and brothel keeper there. Malik had given good service but, being beyond his twenty-fifth year, was past being of the age now to be moving to a position that would afford him a more lucrative income. I was happy to do this favor for him—he had done me well for neigh unto six years—but he had grown older than I liked having in the stable in his capacity. Now, however, I was minus a stable boy who would fulfill the duty Malik did, but there were men in the stable well enough to do the work until I could find a replacement. We paid well at the manor and I and my needs were well known in the neighborhood, so I trusted it would not be long before there was a new Malik in place.

    I tied the reins of the two horses to a tree just inside the stand and proceeded, as silently as I could, to a position of dense thicket just opposite of where I had seen the movement of the animal. Gaining a purchase that I thought concealed me sufficiently, I gasped to find that it was no animal at all, but rather a man, my Chinese overseer of the cinnamon fields, Peng, with a cloak on his back made of animal fur. He was a large, coarse, strong man of middle years, one I knew to be rough with his Malay workers, but who met production quotas with them. The undulating movement that had caught my eye on the road was the result of Peng holding a young, comely, naked Malay man under him, the youth’s knees hooked on the man’s hips. Peng was fucking the young man.

    In contrast to the dark-tan brown flesh of the slim young man’s nakedness, the older man fucking him was fully clothed, the laces of his breeches codpiece undone and flared to free his cock, which was inside the young man, who must have been no older than eighteen or nineteen, and was pumping him in long slides. This vigorous taking had been what caused the aspect of undulation I’d seen from the road. Peng was on his knees, between the young man’s thighs, with one arm under the youth’s waist, pulling the Malay’s pelvis off the soft ground between the cinnamon tree rows so that the young man’s perfectly formed torso streamed back onto the earth, with his lustrous black strands of shoulder-length hair fanned out from his head. His arms were stretched out straight from his body in a sacrificial cruciform position, and his head was lolled to one side, his slit eyes staring into the thicket where I was—or thought I was—hidden. The expression on the young man’s face was such that it seemed like he could see me. It was just the sort of look I was aroused to receive from a young man of his age.

    The look wasn’t one of consternation, but of satiation. The youth clearly was fine, at least for now, with having the man’s cock working inside him. His beauty and acceptance had a hardening effect on me. I would have been even harder if I had arrived at a stage where the young man struggled and I could see the moment of penetration and surrender.

    The other hand of the man fucking him was palmed on the youth’s sternum, holding his body to the ground, captive, while the man punished the young man’s passage. But that seemed unnecessary. The small Malay was putting up no resistance, possibly having done so earlier in the assault to no avail and now totally cowed. In fact, the Malay was engaged in the coupling, moving his pelvis in rhythm to the thrusts of my overseer. My eyes fixated on the rocking of the slim hips of the Malay as they fucked. Peng touched him in the hollow of his hip, and I longed to be the one doing that. Where Peng touched him was red and I could see what looked like a hand impression as if the overseer had struck the young man there more than once. That too, I found to be arousing.

    I was not sure whether this be assault or seduction—or just giving the demanding overseer his right in currying favor with him. The young Malay could not help but feel the power of the shaft moving inside him, and yet he gave no struggle against it. Was this master and slave, I wondered. The Malay workers on our plantations were little more than slaves here in the late nineteenth century. If one of our overseers was fucking his workers, even if it was male-on-male rather than the infinitely more accepted male on slave female, there was little to be said about that as long as quotas were being met. That was not my rule, but, rather, the guidance from London. London, in fact, favored a practice of Malay women bearing more children, either of pure Malay race or mixed breeding, to add to the workforce. Formal marriages were for the Europeans. Whatever the case, it got my juices going and I settled down on my haunches to further examine this mystery unfolding before me. Was this by consent or by privilege? To be truthful, I was the more aroused when it was taken by right initially rather than by mutual desire.

    As privileged, I was the more moved by being a dominator.

    I was stirred to the core of me not only from the act I was observing or the beauty of the young Malay, but as much by his vulnerability and helplessness in the taking and in the searching, teasing stare he was directing me, evidently able to see me in the thicket. I gasped as Peng moved his hand from the young man’s sternum and, with a flick of his wrist slapped the youth across the face, first in one direction and then in the other, which snapped the small Malay’s head back and forth in surprise and made his eyes flash. He squeezed the young man’s cheeks in his hand and made the Malay look directly in his eyes as he fucked him. Each slap had made me harden a bit more.

    I was about to gather myself to rush out of hiding and pull the brute off the youth, and be a bit of a brute myself with the youth. Peng would have acceded me my rights. I was his master. But just as I was steeling my muscles to pounce forward, the small Malay cried out a “Ya! Membuat saya rasa!—Yes, make me feel it!” and raised his arms and his torso, his assaulter taking his hand away to encircle the young man’s cock, which I could now see and could discern was in erection, and cupped the back of Peng’s head with both his hands. The Malay youth brought their faces together in a kiss.

    The overseer wasn’t assaulting the young man at all. The Malay youth was acquiescing to, fully participating in, the fuck, and he liked it a little rough—it had brought him to life and fully into the fuck. I was holding my riding crop in my hand, and, with a low moan, I flicked it against the leather of my riding boots and licked my lips. I fantasized about dominating an innocent youth, but I also liked a young man who wanted a little pain.

    As if to emphasize that the bit of cruelty had heightened the young man’s arousal, his hips began to rock more insistently against Peng’s crotch; his fingernails dug into the shoulder tips of the fur jacket, scrabbling to pull the man deeper inside him; and when they came out of the kiss, the young man arched his back toward the soil, his pelvis still held in place with the older man’s strong arm encircling it, and started babbling, “Ya. Ya. Maka, seperti itu. Memberikannya kepada saya baik!—Yes, yes. There, like that. Give it to me good!” The young man’s body spasmed, and I could tell that he had come.

    He went back into the arms-stretched fully open pose that made me ache to possess his little, lithe, berry-brown body as well. I gave no thought to whether I could, if I wanted to. There was no reason I should. That was the privilege of the English plantation manager. I exercised my privileges.

    Even when the man slapped the boy’s bare buttocks hard with his hand, the boy merely laughed and called out a “Ya! Sekali lagi!—Yes! Again!” The acceptance of the boy was making me throb.

    Settling back down on my haunches in the thicket, I unlaced my trousers, released myself, and stroked, matching my stroking to the rhythm of the man’s buttocks rocking against the young man and the Malay youth giving little gasps marking the bottoming of the shaft inside him and the promised that the overseer would bring him to climax again.

    At length, the young man took control, making the understanding of his complicity in the act complete. He showed, with the movement of his arms and body, that he wanted to change positions, and Peng gave him his way, lowering himself on his back in the space between the rows. Throughout the man was facing away from me and the young man, who from time to time glanced my way and smiling, knowing I was there, watching, masturbating. It was almost as if he was performing for me, showing me what he could do, what he could do for me as well as he was doing it for the overseer.

    With Peng prone on the ground, his hard cock—and a very nice one in size, almost as thick and long as mine was, standing up from his unruly bush as it protruded out of the flare of his trousers, the lacings cascading down the man’s sides—the youth climbed on top, straddling Peng’s shaft. Slowly, deliberately, the small Malay looking into my eyes all the time, he descended his passage on the shaft, taking his time to sheath it in its entirety, as the man under him shuddered and grasped the young man’s waist tight. Once well saddled, Peng raised his torso to that of the Malay youth, who tugged at the furred jacket, pulling it off the man and then pulling the man’s white, but graying, cotton shirt over his head. Peng’s chest was massively muscular, marked with the welts of the lash from an earlier, rebellious youth, the physique of a virile man not afraid of performing grueling manual labor himself and withstanding the punishment of his actions.

    Peng no longer was just a middle-aged, crude overseer. His body was as beautiful in its maturity, power, and danger-seasoned experience as the Malay’s was in its fresh diminutive size, leanness, and litheness. The two fucked with a beauty of motion now that deserved to be sculpted—the older, experienced man taking his unfettered pleasure on a fresh, young body. Peng leaned back on his hands, fists planted in the soil behind him, and he moaned as the brown-bodied youth kissed down his cheeks and throat and his mouth went to the man’s nipples. At the same time the youth started to move his hips, rising and falling on the hard shaft inside him.

    With a sigh, Peng lowered his torso again, fully prone on the ground, his arms going out from his body, he showing the position of the cruciform now, as the young man leaned back, placed his palms on Peng’s knees, and rose and fell on the cock. In this position, it would seem that Peng had lowered in authority or the young Malay worker had risen to his level and now controlled the fuck. Peng was not objecting.

    The small Malay was displaying to me the point of the fusion of the two, the very center of the act that both obviously were taking full pleasure from, rising full to where I could see the rim of the glans on the huge, thick cock nearly surface before he descended again, tickling the surface of his tender inner thighs with the curly black hair of the man’s bush. Up, down. Up, down, until, in a frenzy, the overseer couldn’t take it anymore and, with a roar, pulled himself up and rolled over taking the small Malay to the ground, folded under him, completely covering him. He was growling and grunting, swinging his hips in a long, fast back and forth movement, fucking the youth hard. The young man was crying out his passion in the frenzied taking in words I could not decipher, though he used both Malay and English. His body was too muffled by Peng’s thrusting, dominating figure for me to clearly hear.

    I watched as Peng tensed, jerked, and released, tensed, jerked, and released. I released my seed on the ground at the same time.

    Immediately having released his cum, Peng rose off the surely crushed body, I thought at the time, stood over him as he folded his now-spent cock back into his breeches, and laced up the crotch. The youth lay below him on his back, his legs spread and bent, one hand playing with his still erect cock, the other rubbing one of his nipples, ready to go again. I ached to be the one. He had a beatific smile on his face and the dribble of cum dripping out of his gaping hole, which had just taken what seemed to be an impossible ram rod to handle.

    Without a word, Peng marched away, down the path separating the rows of cinnamon trees, other duties to attend to.

    The Malay youth’s eyes went to me, taking in that I was crouched down on my haunches, my cock out, magnificently long and thick even in repose, and dripping my seed on the ground.

    I watched as the cheeky young man stroked himself to another ejaculation, all the time capturing my eyes with his. He was on his back, legs inviting open, inviting me, I was sure, to take up the position Peng had been in, fucking him.

    But I had spent my load and, in my pride as English manager of the plantation, I could not countenance following behind a Chinese overseer of the field no matter how enticing the small, perfectly formed Malay worker was. That Peng was walking away from the opportunity to fuck the willing youth again and leaving him to me, the young man’s passage leaking a Chinaman’s cum, was an affront to my pride, even though Peng probably had no idea I was there. With a sigh of both satisfaction and regret, I stood, readjusted myself, turned and returned to the horses, and rode on to my manor at Taman Binjai. The more distance I put between me and the enticing Malay youth, though, the more regret I had that I hadn’t remained and made sport with him.

    * * * *

    The regret remained with me through the day, accentuated by arriving at the stable with no Malik to greet me and lie under me when, after what I’d seen, I was aching for an energetic session with a young man. The regret and longing were there the next day when I rode out on the Jalan Baru Road that ran through the various fields of the plantation for exercise and to calm my urges, my mind racing through images of the beautiful, lithe Malay youth, lying there, his legs open—open to me for the taking. If I had knelt between those legs, he would not—could not—have denied me.

    I rode slowly by a field where a lone worker, one of our Indian workers from the Kashmir region, was weeding around rubber tree seedlings we’d put in the previous year as the rubber market was opening up in Malaya. He looked up and saw me, dropped his sickle, and walked to the edge of the field on a route that would intersect with me at a slightly lesser pace with the horse. I slowed Mountjoy to signal to the man that he had gained my attention and assessed the young man as we converged. He was older than I liked, probably twenty or more, and he was gangly, tall and thin, clothed just in a long sarong wrapped low around his hips. With all that, I was still attracted to him. His black hair was tied in a bun on top of his head. Flashing through my mind was visions of the hair let down, swaying with the rhythm of my cock working inside him. Sometimes the Indian workers performed swaying dances for us in their sarongs, and I’d found them arousing. I was going hard. The face was nothing to be proud of, but if I took him from the rear, that would not be part of the experience. A pleasant part of the experience, though, would be in unwrapping that sarong.

    Then he turned his back on me as the hem of his sarong caught in the foliage and he had to twist around to disengage it. I caught my breath. The young man had welts on his back. He had been whipped. He had acceded to being whipped.

    “Greetings, Sir Robert. Are you having a nice ride?” he asked when we converged. His voice showed nerves, but he spoke in a sing-song manner that aroused me. He knew what he was about when he came out of the field to me. He, like all young male workers, Malay, Chinese, and Indian alike, within miles of Taman Binjai knew what I like and wanted and would pay for. I had no trouble taking young men from the fields and covering them. They gained position from coupling with me. There were young British men in the colony as well, but it would not have been moral for me to touch them.

    “Would you be interested in riding?” I asked, pulling a Malayan dollar, worth two shillings six pence at the time, out of my pocket and holding it up for him to see. That would be enough to feed him for four days, and richly so. As I spoke to him, I swished my hand whip against my thigh. He looked at it—and he knew—but he did not shrink from me.

    “As you wish, Master,” he answered, almost reluctantly. His eyes gleamed at seeing the dollar bill, but his doubts told me that he was not experienced.

    I had my doubts about laying him. He seemed unsure and quite possibly unridden, and he was not in any way my ideal. But I was hard, hard from the thoughts of the berry-brown Malay in another field on the previous day, hard from having seen the welts on this young man’s back, and my need was great. The Malay youth wasn’t here; this older field worker was. The Indian workers were obsequious; they would immediately do whatever I demanded of them and thank me for the privilege. He would be grateful for the Malay dollar. He had made his decision what he would do for the money before he saw me riding by the field. He would turn his back and take a few lashings as I prepared to mount him.

    And if he was unridden as yet, there was sport in being the first to take him. The unwrapping of the sarong would be pleasant in its own performance.

    I came down off Mountjoy, unlaced myself, and freed my shaft, which already three-quarters erect. The Indian youth gasped at the sight of it.

    “If you think you can take this in your throat, kneel to me,” I said.

    He went down on his knees, and I placed one hand on the back of his head, freeing his long hair, and guided his mouth to me. I ran my fingers through his hair, finding the fineness and length of it and the way it caught the highlights of the sun pleasing while he gagged on the cock in his throat. I had my riding whip in my other hand and applied it lightly on his biceps, shoulder blades, and cheeks while he struggled with my shaft. He jerked, sensitive to the touch of the lash, with each flick. But he could not be surprised by the whip if he knew of my proclivities at all, which he must have done by coming to me from the fields. I lashed him hard enough to make him gasp and jerk, but no harder.

    He brought me to full hard, but it was clear that he couldn’t take it this way for very long and that he had no experience in trying to.

    He obviously was a virgin. But he had come to me. He needed a Malay dollar more than he needed his virginity to a man up his passage. He was not ideal, but there was some arousal to deflowering a virgin. It was enough to keep me hard while I fucked him. He gritted his teeth and asked for no quarter. I gave him none.

    I put him on all fours some yards into the field, behind a shielding palm tree, mounted him from behind, worked my way inside him as his grunted and groaned and, eventually sobbed, and I rode the virginity out of him. When I was well saddled and he was open to me at last, I grabbed onto his hair as reins, arched his head back to the sound of a yelp from him, and, using the leverage of my feet, rode him hard. He did not take well to the application of the whip on his flanks and buttocks while I was riding him, but he did not refuse me. How could he? I was the English master of the plantation.

    He took it. He panted and sobbed, but he held steady and took the whip and the cock—all of it. His flanks and buttocks were red at the finish line too, but he had taken the whip. He wanted the money. He quite probably heard of the opening in the stable and wanted that too and that want was part of what he was willing to give up so stoically. But it would have taken too much effort to make the stable boy out of him that I needed. I doubted he’d ever beg for the whip as the younger Malay might do. And, at twenty, which he confirmed to me, Hakim was two years too old for my tastes in starting to train a young man to my desires and needs.

    But he had assuaged the raging fire building in me for the saucy Malay youth of the previous day—at least for now. And he was happy to get the Malayan dollar.

    * * * *

    I’m not even aware what brought me back to the stand of trees by the field on the Butterworth-to-Taman Binjai back road, but I found myself there the next afternoon, standing at the edge of the trees overlooking the cinnamon tree field where I had seen the overseer and the Malay youth fucking. There was a figure in the field some distance away when I got there, stooping over the weeds around a tree. He straightened up and turned toward me and I could see that it was the young man I couldn’t get out of my mind.

    We stood there, at a distance, just looking at each other. I wasn’t even aware that I was unlacing the crotch of my riding breeches until it was done and I had pulled the shaft out. I was hugely erect. I had the riding whip with me and flicked it against my thigh. I am sure he took the whole picture and what it portended.

    He started walking toward me. As he walked, he was discarding the sarong at his waist so that, when he reached me, he was gloriously naked. His body was as beautiful as I remembered—small, perfectly formed, berry-brown, with lustrous black hair at head and pubes. His cock was that of a mature man, erect and inviting.

    When he reached me, he came up close and put his hand out to encase my shaft. We kissed and I stroked his cock and then held our shafts together, frotting them, while he unbuckled me, slipped my riding breeches down off my hips and then pulled my vest and shirt over my head.

    When I was almost as naked as he was, only in my riding boots and holding my riding whip in one hand, he pulled away from me, went down in front of me, and gave me the expert suck that Hakim, the Indian from the fields, had not been able to accomplish the previous day. Rather than standing when I pushed him off and said I could take no more, he went down on all fours for me and whimpered, “Mengalahkan saya! Fuck saya!—Beat me; fuck me.” I went down on my knees behind him and buried my face in the crease of his buttocks. I stood over him then and raised the hand whip and brought it whistling down on his back. He flinched and gave a little cry, but he held steady as I raised the whip again . . . and then again.

    He was a thoroughbred. I rode him high, taking him in long sweeps, with him rocking back on the cock as I buried it, taking it deep. I wanted to ride him in a position where I could watch the cock penetrate, pull back, and then penetrate again. That had been the most arousing aspect of Peng, the overseer, fucking him—that I could watch the fusion of the bodies at the point of contact and see how beautifully the cock worked the hole. He also took the whip like a champion. I raised the whip high and brought it down hard, again and again, and, jerking, he cried out for it each time. “Ya, lakukan semuanya. Mengambil apa yang anda mahu!—Yes, do it all. Take what you want!”

    I wanted him to come with me, so I went down on my knees and pulled his back up to my chest, him still on his knees in front of me, my shaft still hard and throbbing up his passage. I embraced him close, buried my lips in his throat, and encased his cock with my hand. I stroked him off as we rocked against each other and I fucked up deep inside his channel. I encouraged him to warn me when he was coming, and he did so, and I managed to finish with him. We both cried out as we both came—again and again and again. “Oh, Menguasai, Menguasai!—Oh, Master, Master!” he exclaimed, and I felt every inch the master of him.

    But, was I really the master? In the beauty and surrender of him, had I become his slave? No, of course not. I was English. I would never be a slave to Malay.

    I sat there afterward, beside him, as he lay on his back, panting and smiling, his eyes watching my every move, the slave ready to respond to the master’s every wish. He knew what I wished without my having to say anything. He smiled, spread and bent his legs, placing his feet firmly on the ground and pushing his pelvis slightly elevated. His arms went straight out from his body, taking the sacrificial position of a cruciform.

    I rolled over on top of him and fucked him again. As I raised the crop and snapped it against his flanks, the youth laughed and cried out, “Ya, Ya. Perjalanan saya keras!—Yes, yes. Ride me hard!”

    Afterward I stretched out beside him and, exhausted, dozed off. When I awoke, he was gone. I had intended to give him a Malayan dollar, but he hadn’t remained to collect his reward. Just as well, I thought. A single dollar would have cheapened what we had done. He was worth two at least.

    * * * *

    “There’s a Malay here to see you, Sir Robert,” Lan, the horse groomer, said to me as I was in the horse barn, feeding sugar cubes to Mountjoy. “He says he’s come about the stable boy position. I know you want to hire for that job yourself.” If there was a smirk on his face, I didn’t see it. He had turned from me when he said it.

    As he spoke, the berry-brown beautiful young man who had captivated me and still was floating in my dreams walked into the barn, eyes cast down, looking perfectly angelic.

    “His name is Wira,” Lan said.

    “Is it?” I asked, not realizing until now that I hadn’t asked his name earlier. “Thank you, Lan. Could you check the feeding troughs in the paddock, please.” It wasn’t a question; it was a direction, and Lan well knew me and dropped what he was working on and left the barn.

    When Lan was gone, I fished around in my pocket and came up the two Malayan dollars that had been burning a hole there. “I meant to give you these yesterday,” I said, “but you were gone when I woke.”

    “I’d rather have the job,” he said, looking up into my eyes. “And not just for the money.” Regardless, he reached out and took the money.

    “Do you know what the job is?” I asked.

    “Yes, do you not think I can handle it?”

    I interviewed him in the hayloft, lying on my back on a bale of hay, with my feet on the boards, giving me leverage to fuck up as he straddled my pelvis and rode my cock. He cried out in surprise when I snap the riding whip on his buttocks, but he fucked on, not losing a beat.

    That evening, at dinner, my wife said, “I understand you’ve hired a new stable boy.”

    “Yes,” I answered.

    “That was fast. Malik was still here at the beginning of the week.”

    “Yes,” I answered. “This one apparently is named Wira. He’s a Malay.”

    “Well, I hope this one is in for the long haul. The stable boys seem to be gone every two years or so.”

    “Yes, I hope this one lasts too,” I said. But then twenty was old in my book. I had it very hard for a younger one—eighteen. Wira’s age. And the Malay youth took the whip well. Not all of them did, although I had no trouble finding a willing eighteen-year-old worker in the fields for a fuck whenever I needed or wanted one and had a dollar to flip to them. Wira, though. Wira was worth two.

    “I’ve often wondered whether the Malay, Chinese, and Indians working for us appreciate all we do for them,” my wife said. “I wonder which of them likes us best.”

    “I’ve found all of them to be quite amenable,” my dear, “And very accommodating. I’m sure they all are equally happy that the English are here to guide them—and will be here forever.”


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  • Doin’ Paul

    “Oh my God!” I said as I stared at Paul’s raging boner.

    Paul’s dick looked great. Even greater than I remembered. I had forgotten what a great dick he had. So perfectly shaped and the thickness also perfect. I grasped his drooling cock and took Paul into my hungry mouth. There it was that incredible taste he had on him. Man and precum and sweat. I was crazy hungry for Paul. I started to suck on him like he was that last man on earth. My mouth drooled and slobbered on his cock madly. The room filled with the sloppy sounds of my worshipping Paul’s hardening cock.

    I looked up at his magnificent chest. As stunning and hairy as ever. I reached up and let my fingers run through his gorgeous chest fur. The tingling that went through me from touching this man had my nuts churning.

    “Soo fucking hot!” I moaned as I came up for air. Pauls’ dick was rock hard now. It glistened with my spit. “Forgot how good you were buddy” He commented “Best blow job I ever had was from this mouth” He added as he patted my cheek.

    I looked at his furry forearms and I grabbed his hand. I pulled his arm to me and licked at the hair on his arm. Up and down his arm I went. I wanted to get his whole hairy body covered in my spit. I looked back to the other side of the small cabin and there was his bed. It was a mess as he had apparently not tidied up before I got there. I got up and pulled Paul to it and pushed him down onto the mattress. I climbed up on his hot hairy body and brought my face to his.

    “You are so fucking incredibly hot Paul” I blurted out “How could I have let you get away from me”

    He smiled as I moved in to kiss him. My lips locked onto his and we lay there sucking face. My tongue licked at his as we battled for control. I felt his body’s fur rake across my chest and stomach. My dick was rock hard as well as I felt his cock against mine.

    “Soo fucking gorgeous” I said to him between kisses. “Gotta fuck me baby” I added. “I need to feel this hot cock inside me again.” I moved up and rubbed my self on his dick. Then I rose up and ground my ass on his cock. “Hmm yess Paul” I cooed as his dick throbbed against me. “Want you to fuck me hard again. Want this to impregnate me”

    I reached back and grabbed his rock hard dick and pushed it at my ass hole. His cock rubbed against my entrance as I gyrated myself on him. It felt so freaking great to have Paul at my backside again.

    “Fuck me stud” I said again.

    I spit on my hand and rubbed my ass hole for him. Then I rose up and hovered over his hard shaft. I looked down between us to see his perfect cock stick straight up from his hairy crotch. I then lowered myself onto his dick. The second I felt the head pop inside my ass I dropped down on his lap. Every wonderful inch of Paul was impaled into my guts.

    “Ughn yess!” I groaned at the pleasure of feeling him back inside.

    I reached for his gorgeous chest and rubbed his torso. My hands gliding over and through his fur mat. I started to gyrate my ass on his hard dick as I began to fuck his gorgeous cock. Up and down I went as I rode Paul’s dick. My hands reached for his nipples and I tugged on them. Paul cried out and pushed up to meet my ass with his cock.

    “Fucker” He growled as he pushed at me “Lemme get up on ya fucker so I can really drill ya” He said

    Paul then Grabbed me and flipped me over on my back. He kept most of his cock still embedded inside my ass as he turned us over. Then the hot piece of man was on top of me. He readjusted my thighs up to his shoulders. He looked mean as he stared down at me. His handsome face stared at me from up above. I licked at my lips as I looked at this prefect man that was taking me. Lost in his face, eyes and lips.

    “Now I’m gonna gun your hole baby” He said

    Paul proceeded to slam his granite hard dick into me fast and jack hammer like. The sensations in my ass were awesome as this God of a man raped my hole with his raging dick. I reached for him and pulled him down to me again. Grinding his body to mine.

    “Yess baby” I moaned “Fuck me like this with your thick ass fucker. Take what belongs to you Paul. Its all yours baby”

    I pulled Paul back down to my face and we kissed again while he pounded my hole harder. He started to grunt as we made out.

    “Awee yess!” He groaned “Best fucking pussy hole ever:”

    Then he kissed me again as he gunned his dick at my ass. The friction he was causing was like burning embers in my ass. I could also feel his hairy gut raking across my own raging dick that lay between us. Tickling and making it respond to him, all of him. I was so delirious from the best fucking I was ever going to get by anyone. Paul really knew how to use his weapon better than anyone I have ever been with. Bigger dicks just slammed down into my guts aimlessly. His perfect dick twisted and raked along my ass walls as he gyrated his awesome body while he fucked. He wanted to make sure I felt every beautiful inch of his sturdy dick. And I did. That and the hot hair on his belly brushing at my own cock had me thrusting back to meet every wonderful plowing thrust this magnificent stud gave me.

    “Ohh God Paul!” I cried out “Fuckk me stud. Fuck me harder baby. Rip me apart with that incredible cock”

    Paul just accelerated to a furious pace as he grunted his answers to my desired question. His stone hard dick was brutally slamming my tender prostate now. The meaty cock head repeatedly pounding away at my body and the sensitive button inside of me. My body then shivered and quaked as his continued pounding set me off. His heavy grunting set me off.

    “Awee fuck baby!” I cried “I’m cumming Paul. You are fucking the cum from me . Ohh my Godd!”

    Then my body shuddered as my orgasm took me. My body shook and my ass clamped down hard on Paul’s dick and I was thrusting my ass back against his cock as my cock rubbed at his belly and pumped out my cum between us.

    “Ohh God baby!” I cried out again “I’m cumming Paul. Baby yes, Paul! I love it Paul. Ohh God I love you my gorgeous stud!”

    I grabbed him and pulled his mouth to me again. I kissed Paul and whimpered as my cum blasted on my belly and in his belly fur. It was hot and sticky as it blasted in gobs on us. I kept thrusting as I kept shooting while my ass pulled on Paul’s awesome cock.

    “Take my ass Paul. Do it now stud.” I said to him as I kissed his gorgeous mouth and face. “I need you to breed me my perfect stud. Pour that hot molten cum into my ass Paul. Please!!”

    I bucked against Paul’s incredible cock and pushed against him. I needed this man to seed me. I wanted to be a woman at that moments just to know that his awesome cum would create a baby inside of me. Paul was breathing ever so heavy now as he continued to pound my bowels with all the force he could muster. His body also was dripping sweat. I could feel it as a cold dampness that was now on my body. I looked at Paul’s handsome face and it too was dripping sweat. He also had an almost pained look on his face as he edged closer to his inevitable orgasm. He looked awesome like that as he got ready to bust a load into my guts.

    “Yess baby!” I cooed as I touched and caressed his face “Pour all that cum into me Paul. Yess, yes, yess!”

    Then his body just stopped for a second, maybe two. Then Paul howled like an animal and shoved hard into my bowels. I felt his meaty dick bloat out as each shot of his boiling cum blasted into me.

    “Fucking whore!” He cried “Here’s my cum man. Take it all fucker!”

    Paul’s body rocked in a violent orgasm like I have never seen. I felt each and every fiery bullet that shot from his balls and emptied into my used up asshole. And it was a lot. I wondered had he been holding all that cum for a long time as there was too much for my ass to contain it all. It felt like a torrential flood of cum pouring into me. Then as he pumped my with hard quick jabs from his hips. I could feel and hear a squishing sound as some of his delicious cum exited my ass. Paul grabbed me and we started to kiss as he continued to dump his seed into me.

    “I love you man” He said as he did. “I love you too Paul. Always have baby. When you left I was fucking going nuts without you.”

    Then after what seemed forever he finished and his body slowed and his breathing returned back to normal. Paul then lifted himself up and looked between us. There was my cum splattered between us. He scooped some up and took it in his mouth. Then he kissed me again and I tasted my cum on his tongue. It was delicious to taste on his mouth. Then we continued to make out for several minutes. My hands roamed over his back and down to his big butt. Then he turned onto his back and lay there next to me. I drew in close and lay my cheek on his hairy chest. My hand played with the damp fur on him. It was awesome to be here with this man. My man.

    Needless to say we had sex all night long and through out the following day. And I never did go back home. Staying with Paul until I then moved to be with my hot man. Only going back to collect my things. Yuval was right…

    The End


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  • Becoming a faggot

    My Big Brother Randy


    Note: This story contains explicit male to male sex. If this content is illegal to access in your geography, do not continue reading. This work is copyright by the author, commercial use is prohibited and it may not be copied, posted to any other websites, without explicit permission from the author.


    Main Characters:

    • Darren – The main character and faggot
    • Randy – Darren’s older brother
    • Chris – Randy’s high sch
    • ool friend
    • Scotty – Darren’s cousin
    • Mark – Chris’ younger brother
    • Steve – Scotty’s best friend
    • Brian – Scotty’s friend
    • Paul – Scotty’s friend
    • Craig – Steve’s older brother
    • Matty – Craig’s faggot

    The Camping Trip (Day three – Scotty’s downfall)

    Darren sat quietly next to Matty. He didn’t feel like talking, his thoughts were too mixed up in his head. Everything seemed wrong now that he’d had to admit what Scotty had done to him. In a matter of minutes, what he’d tried to keep secret was no longer a secret and he couldn’t understand the mixture of emotions he was feeling.

    In that instant when Matty had pulled his shirt off, his world had caved in around him. The reactions to the marks on his body had been hard enough. The concerned look on his brother’s face affirmed for Darren that what had happened to him had been terrible. He’d tried to deny it up to that point, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. But as soon as Randy made him face it, Darren couldn’t control himself and began to cry. And his brother held him tight as he did and it made him feel safer and cry harder.

    Darren couldn’t remember feeling so sad about anything. His cousin had done something really wrong to him and there was no hiding from it anymore. So once the crying stopped and he was able to find his voice, he told Randy. Told Randy about what Scotty had done to him in the woods at the lake. About the high school boys and the dog. And about later that night, how Scotty had been even meaner and hurt him more than the first time. Of course, the other boys were hearing too, but he didn’t care. He was talking to his brother and he’s whom Darren focused on to find the courage to tell what happened.

    As he spoke, no one said anything. They just listened. Once he was done, Craig mentioned that he knew the high school boys, but Darren wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. He was watching his brother intently, waiting for his reaction, for him to say something. And what he ended up saying confused Darren even more.

    “I’m sorry,” Randy said, on one knee, no longer hugging his brother. Instead Randy held him at arms length with a hand on his shoulder, so that they could look each other in the eyes, “If I had stopped Scotty that first time with the two of us…”

    As Randy trailed off, lost in his own thoughts, Darren let his words sink in. It took him back to that night last weekend with Scotty and Randy, and it was true. If Randy had stopped Scotty, had not let their cousin do the things that he’d done, none of this would have happened. Darren felt somehow betrayed by his older brother, who was meant to protect him and yet didn’t. He was no longer the strong older brother who would watch out for his little brother.

    “Who will keep me safe now,” Darren said under his breath, almost to himself, pulling away from Randy, no longer wanting his brother to touch him, “Scotty hurt us both.”

    “Darren, I’ll keep you safe,” Randy tried to reassure him.

    “But you can’t,” Darren felt the tears welling in his eyes again, “Scotty made us both his faggots.”

    As soon as he saw the hurt look on Randy’s face, he regretted saying it. But it was too late now. The tears started again, so he turned to Matty and pushed his face into the older boy’s chest. At least this way, no one could see him cry and he didn’t have to look at his brother anymore.

    That’s when they heard the shouting from up the hill and all the boys took off to see what was happening, leaving Matty with Darren. While they were gone, Matty just held Darren close and let the boy cry until the crying was done. Once he was past the tears, he pulled back from Matty and sat down on the log near the fire pit. Matty sat next to him and they just waited in silence.

    There was more shouting from up the hill and a short time later, they heard the group coming back. Darren turned to see Scotty surrounded by all the boys, including Mark and Chris. As they got closer to camp, Darren saw that Scotty was naked, hands tied behind his back, his mouth gagged. Randy tugged their cousin into camp by a leash attached to his balls and walked him over to just behind where Matty and Darren sat.

    Both Matty and Darren got to their feet. As Darren looked to Scotty, his cousin glared at him, hate in his eyes. But Darren was happy to see something else in Scotty’s eyes, fear. That bit of weakness made Scotty seem less scary and Darren felt his hate for his cousin blossom. His cousin had hurt him and now all Darren wanted was to see Scotty hurt worse.

    “What happened,” Matty asked, stepping over to stand between Craig and Chris, “What was all the shouting we heard?”

    “It appears this little bitch,” Craig reached out and smacked Scotty in the back of the head, “Was trying to do to Mark and Chris what he did to Darren.”

    “But we got there just in time,” Randy continued, anger seething in his voice, “And now it’s time for my cousin to learn his lesson.”

    “They told me what Scotty did to you, little guy,” Chris walked over and pulled Darren to him, face pressed to Chris’ bare stomach and chest, “He’s going to wish he could take it all back.”

    “So who gets to fuck him first,” Mark asked gleefully, “I mean, we are all going to take turns on his ass, right?”

    Hearing this, Scotty tried to bolt, but didn’t get far when Randy yanked him back by the balls. Now that glimmer of fear that Darren had seen in his cousin’s eyes was clearly shown all across his face. Meanwhile, Chris had stepped away from Darren and found a small branch and was swishing it through the air. Satisfied, he stripped away all the leaves until it was bare.

    “We’ll all eventually get a chance to fuck him,” Chris said calmly, before sitting down on the tree stump, “But first we should warm up his ass.”

    Darren watched as Chris reached out and grabbed the leash connected to Scotty’s balls and pulled it out of Randy’s grip. He tugged viciously on it, causing Scotty to stumble toward him. Once within reach, Chris grabbed the boy’s hands tied behind his back and dragged him over Chris’ lap. Scotty struggled and shouted into a pair of underwear that Darren now saw were the gag stuffed in his mouth, held in place by a rope wrapped around his cousin’s head.

    His cousin’s struggling and screaming only intensified as Chris raised up the branch and brought it down hard and fast across Scotty’s bare butt. The lashing across Scotty’s ass continued, the branch swishing through the air in a blur, only to make a loud crack as it met Scotty’s flesh. Chris held the boy in place across his lap, an elbow pressing harshly between Scotty’s shoulder blades, as the angry red welts began to develop on the little mounds of his round butt. Eventually, Chris stopped beating him with the stick, dropping it to the ground. He first squeezed each of Scotty’s butt cheeks firmly in his hand, eliciting a muffled cry from the boy, before resuming the spanking using his bare hand now.

    Scotty thrashed about and screamed so loud that it left no doubt in Darren’s mind how much this was hurting his cousin. He almost felt bad for the smile that was spread across his face, but he knew that Scotty deserved this and much worse. Watching Chris punish Scotty had him certain he never wanted to be in that same place. His butt hurt just thinking about the spanking Scotty was receiving.

    “Get over here, boy,” Chris finally stopped the spanking and looked over to Darren, “I think it’s only fitting that you get to be the first to fuck this bitch.”

    At first, when Chris called him over, he worried he was next across the lap. When he realized that he was instead expected to fuck Scotty, he felt scared and excited at the same time. He hesitantly stepped up next to Chris, who directed him behind his cousin.

    “Looks like you are ready,” Chris was referring to the little hard-on jutting out from Darren’s crotch, “Did you like watching him get spanked or were you excited about the thought of getting spanked yourself, huh, boy?”

    Darren stared down amazed at how hard he was and couldn’t quite decide what would be a truthful answer to the question. Chris didn’t seem to expect an answer, instead leaning forward to hold Scotty down across his lap.

    “Just spit on his hole,” Chris instructed, as he reached back and grabbed an asscheck in each hand and spread Scotty’s butt, “It’s for your benefit, not his.”

    Looking down at his cousin held down across Chris’ lap, he just stared at the butthole being offered to him. It struck him that he had never even contemplated sticking his penis into anyone. All these times that he’d been fucked, he never imagined being in the opposite role. But now, as he felt hate for his cousin crash like a wave over him, he grabbed his hard-on in his hand, and not heeding Chris’ advice, rammed it dry into Scotty’s butthole. It was satisfying to hear Scotty scream into his gag, and Darren actually laughed as he started to fuck his cousin.

    The other boys cheered him on and slapped him on the back, telling him to fuck the fag, pound that bitch, and other similar words of encouragement. Yet all Darren was focused on was the feeling of his little dick moving in and out of his cousin’s butthole. When he first entered Scotty, the friction actually burned his dick, but slowly that gave way as the hole opened up for him. Now he only felt pleasure. It amazed him how hot Scotty’s butthole was and how it pulsed on his dick. Darren imagined it was Scotty’s heart beating around his penis.

    The more he thought about what Scotty had done to him, the harder he pounded. Darren wanted to hurt his cousin. He even pulled back his hand and slapped it as hard as he could against Scotty’s butt. Scotty howled in anguish, while the others howled in delight. He kept this up until his hand hurt. He thought about the way Scotty had fucked him in the woods and then in his bedroom later that night. As he recalled those events, Darren reached under his cousin and gripped his flaccid dick and hairless balls and squeezed as hard as he could. His cousin responded as expected, with a high-pitched shriek through the gag.

    Darren tightened his grip around Scotty’s nuts, almost hoping to feel them pop, not sure if that was even possible. Finally, his hand grew tired and he released his grip, just as he felt a tingle in his own balls. The tight warm hole he was thrusting into was driving sensations through Darren’s body that he had never experienced before. He pressed his dick as deep as he could into his cousin, just as he felt fluid rushing up his shaft and spurting out into Scotty’s butthole. At the same time, he felt a pressure building and then release in his chest that nearly knocked him off his feet. Every other time his penis had shot out its clear liquid, it hadn’t ever felt like this. Without knowing what it was, Darren had just experienced his first full-fledged orgasm and was pumping his semen into his cousin’s ass.


    The moment it happened, he knew what that feeling was. His little faggot cousin had just shot his tiny load into Scotty’s ass. And even worse than knowing that his bitch cousin had just fucked him, was to know that this was just the first. There wasn’t much he could do, considering his hands were tied behind his back. Plus, Chris was so much bigger and holding him down. His mouth was gagged, but there would have been no point in calling for help because there was no one around to help him. All his friends had turned on him. And why, because the baby faggot had not listened and blabbed his fucking mouth.

    But it wasn’t so long ago that Scotty had the upper hand on Chris and Mark. And he’d been just about to make Chris his bitch, when that other faggot cousin of his attacked. When Randy jumped on him and informed Scotty they knew about Darren, he was pretty certain his cousin, faggot or not, was about to beat him senseless. Luckily, Craig and Brian had pulled Randy off, while Steve and Paul picked Scotty up off the ground. But rather than being there to help him, his two friends held him tight to ensure he didn’t run off.

    While Chris and Mark finished getting loose from Scotty’s trap, Randy shared Darren’s claim that Scotty had raped him. Scotty denied it, said that Darren had enjoyed it, even begged for it. Steve surprised him when he nearly choked him with an arm around his neck and told him to shut up. His hate for Steve doubled in an instant. Now he was the only one naked, being forced to listen as Mark and Steve shared how Scotty talked shit to them about Chris and Craig. Suddenly, he was fully exposed, literally and figuratively.

    It was easy for all of them to act so cocky and superior, considering they were all ganging up on Scotty. But he knew that he was better than any of them, seeing as how close he had got to taking them all down. As Paul tied his hands behind his back, Scotty tried to think of a way out.

    Craig brought up the group of high schooolers, who as it turned out were friends of his. Tears of rage sprung to Scotty’s eyes as he listened to Craig tell Chris and Mark how his friends had not only used Darren with Scotty’s permission, but had also made Scotty suck dick. He despised them all as they laughed at him. He’d been a victim too, not just Darren. He didn’t understand why they’d feel sorry for the little faggot being used as he was meant to be, but not for the way those older boys had violated him.

    His rage had boiled over and he threatened to tell on Chris and Randy for having sex with kids, knowing how much trouble they’d get into. Scotty had smiled as he imagined the pair going to jail and being raped over and over. But the group banded together against him yet again, saying they’d all deny anything other than Scotty raping Darren. It would be his word against all of theirs.

    For a moment, he had actually felt helpless. Then, as Chris ran up the hill with Craig to the van, Scotty had realized he had one last ace up his sleeve. He had blurted out that if they didn’t let him go right now, he’d expose Randy to Chris. He knew that they’d band together around his older cousin, despite his being a faggot. In order to protect Randy and keep his secret, they wouldn’t dare do anything to Scotty.

    It was his own best friend that crushed his last bit of hope to get out of this situation. Steve reminded Scotty he’d be starting junior high next week, and that he’d be the new kid at the school. Steve meanwhile was already going to the school with lots of friends he’d gladly tell about Scotty being a cocksucker. Before he knew it, Scotty would be very popular, but not for reasons he’d want.

    Thinking things couldn’t get worse, Chris and Craig returned with the firewood and a little surprise for Scotty. As Chris forced something into Scotty’s mouth, gagging him and tying it in place, Chris told the group how he’d found an old pair of dirty briefs in his van that he regularly used as a cumrag. Scotty’s body convulsed from the retching that started once his tongue began to pick up the distinct flavors on the fabric.

    His mouth watered involuntarily and he gagged as his taste buds were flooded with things he didn’t want to think about. Through his watery eyes, he saw Randy approaching. He tried to kick out at his faggot cousin, but Paul and Steve used their own legs to restrain his. He felt Randy tugging on his balls painfully, wrapping something around them. When he heard the familiar click of the leash attaching to the collar, he realized what Randy had just done. His fears were confirmed when he was tugged forward by his balls.

    The humiliation of his march down the hill was just the beginning. Next was the spanking over Chris’ knee like a baby in front of everyone. And not just spanked, the fucker beat his ass. Scotty had never had anything hurt so bad. He tried to not cry, but he lost that battle about halfway through. He futilely struggled and thrashed while his ass was turned into rawmeat. He never felt such relief as when it stopped, but that was short lived. Soon his sore ass was feeling the sting of Chris’ hand as it alternated from asscheek to asscheek.

    Scotty didn’t think he could hate Chris more than he did right then. That was, until his abuser invited Darren to fuck his ass. Once Chris offered up his ass to that little faggot, he despised them both more than anyone before. Scotty’s entire body tensed when he felt Darren get behind him, waiting to feel the spit on his hole just before his faggot cousin fucked him. He imagined it was going to hurt, so he tried to get ready for it. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment his cousin rammed his dick into Scotty completely dry. The pain exploded like a bomb had gone off inside his head. The only thing he was thankful for was that his little cousin had a little penis.

    He listened to the others calling him a faggot and bitch, telling Darren to fuck his ass harder. And to Scotty’s dismay, that’s just what the little fag did. To add to the humiliation, Darren began spanking his ass, treating Scotty like the bitch when it should have been the other way around. Scotty thought he would pass out when he felt his sick little cousin squeeze his nuts to the point of them nearly bursting in his sack. Scotty heard a girl screaming, only to realize it was him.

    Fortunately, Scotty’s first fuck didn’t last long as Darren apparently couldn’t control his excitement and shot his little load not too long after he’d started. Scotty tried to ignore the wet feeling around his asshole. When his cousin pulled his miniature penis out, there was no denying it was cum leaking from his abused ass.

    As soon as Darren was done, Chris shoved Scotty to the ground and placed a foot between his shoulder blades to hold him down. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop his fall as his body landed painfully to the hard dirt. Before he could even catch his breath, he felt a foot pressed against his face.

    “Hope you like piss, you little bitch,” he heard Mark say, right before a hot stream of it hit Scotty right in the eyes, “Because I’m gonna drown you in it.”

    It burned worse than he would have imagined and he shut his eyes tight. The other boys seemed happy to help Mark and soon Scotty felt multiple streams of piss. He struggled helplessly in the fast growing puddle he was laying in. He tried to lift his head to get his face out of it, but Mark just pressed down harder with his foot to keep him in place.

    They covered every inch of him in piss, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Mark even made sure to piss in his ears and up his nose, as Scotty flopped around like a fish out of water. The dirt beneath him soon turned into a slop of muddy piss. As sick as it was, he was grateful for the cumrag stuffed in his mouth. Even though his mouth continued to salivate, reactivating the dried cum from the briefs, he imagined that was still better than taking in mouthfuls of what he was laying in.

    Someone drop down between his legs, spreading his knees wide at the same time they grabbed his hips and raised his ass up. He recognized that Chris’ foot had left his back at the same time he heard him say, “My turn,” before starting to cram his dick into Scotty’s tight ass.


    Looking down at the red angry welts across Scotty’s ass gave Chris a sense of satisfaction, but not nearly enough to make up for what the little shit had just tried to pull. Chris knelt behind Scotty as the kid lay face down in a puddle of piss. He’d just witnessed the agony Darren’s little dick had caused Scotty, imagine the reaction when he felt a real man’s cock inside him.

    It made Chris smile when Randy knelt down in front of Scotty’s face and started to pull out the gag. He and his buddy were about to teach this brat a lesson together, show him what happens when you disrespect your superiors. The spanking was just the beginning, now the real punishment would begin.

    “You really messed up, bitch,” Chris explained to Scotty, who seemed relieved to spit out the cumrag, “I consider myself a pretty laid back guy, but I don’t know where the hell you got the idea that you would screw with me.”

    “Fuck you,” Scotty started, before Randy shoved his face down into the piss and mud. Now all that was coming from the punk’s mouth was sputtering and choking as he inhaled the slop. Then Randy yanked his head back up by the hair and started pissing directly in Scotty’s face. It was almost like Randy was doing the kid a favor, washing the mud off with his piss.

    Chris roughly spread Scotty’s ass apart and could see white fluid seeping from the tight hole. “You should thank your little cousin for lubing you up first,” Chris teased as he slapped his hard dick against Scotty’s hole, the wet smacking was music to his ears, “Otherwise this would probably hurt a lot more than it’s going to.”

    Once the piss facial was complete, Randy reached forward to grab the leash that was under Scotty. He pulled it forward, drawing the bitch’s nuts up painfully. The boy screamed and Randy took that opportunity to stuff his dick into the fucker’s mouth.

    “Now remember what I can do to your balls,” Randy cautioned Scotty, tugging on the leash hard, “If you so much as think about scrapping my dick with your teeth.”

    It was still baffling to Chris that not more than ten minutes ago, Chris and Scotty’s positions had been reversed. Scotty had been the one pissing into Chris’ face. Chris had been the one holding a dick in his mouth. It was all Chris could do to keep from beating this brat senseless, knowing that it was because of Scotty that Chris now knew what his little brother’s cum tasted like. And it had been the first time anyone had violated Chris’ ass, although Scotty hadn’t gotten the chance to stick more than his fingers in Chris’ hole. Scotty was about to receive much harsher treatment.

    “I had been willing to give you some credit, let you prove yourself as an Alpha in the making,” Chris continued his lecture to the bitch underneath him, “But now you are going to be at the bottom of the fucking pile.”

    He glanced over at his buddy humping his dick into his little cousin’s face. Randy was staring intently at Chris’ cock about to fuck Scotty at the other end. It had Chris again wondering how much his friend had enjoyed sucking dick the other night. If Chris were to offer it, would Randy jump at the chance to suck his dick? Chris still had the idea Randy was uncomfortable watching him and Craig, though. His thoughts then turned to Craig, and maybe one day getting a chance to fuck that high school stud. That would be a hot piece of ass for sure.

    That brought him back to the piece of ass currently in front of him. And to the fact that there was a more important reason to punish Scotty than for what he’d done to him and his brother. There was what he’d done to Darren. The little fag was still fragile and learning what he was, so for Scotty to abuse him the way he did was unacceptable. Chris felt partly responsible, since he’d lent Darren to Scotty for the week. But he’d never given the little bastard permission to do what he’d done.

    “I imagine you won’t enjoy this,” Chris said, as he pressed the tip of his cock against the entrance to Scotty’s ass, “But I sure the fuck will.”

    “Now be a good bitch,” Randy ordered his cousin, as he plunged his dick in and out of Scotty’s mouth, “And take our cocks.”

    “You’re up after me,” Chris informed Randy, as he pulled his hips back before slamming them forward, hearing the gargled scream coming from Scotty’s cock filled mouth.

    “I’ll fuck him later tonight,” Randy turned down the offer, “I’m going to enjoy having him suck my dick and eat my cum first.”

    “No doubt,” Chris agreed, as he began pumping his dick in and out of the tight hole, “This bitch will be intimately familiar with all our cocks by the time we’re done with him.”

    Chris grabbed Scotty’s bound hands and pulled on them to make him arch back and lift his head up further, giving Randy a better angle to fuck his face. It also gave Chris better leverage to ride the punk’s ass, his dick plunging deeper into his hole. The small amount of cum that Darren had dumped into his cousin helped to lube him up and probably provided Scotty with a little comfort. But Chris’ cock was likely twice the length and thickness of Darren’s little penis and it would take Scotty quite a few more fucks before he’d get used to it. But Chris was determined to have the kid’s hole opened up before he was finished.

    “Bet you wish your little cousin was fucking you again,” Chris slammed into Scotty’s ass, making him squeal, “Rather than me.”

    All the boys were standing around, watching Chris and Randy penetrate Scotty at both ends. Except for Darren. He was sitting on the edge of the river with his back to them, just staring out at the water. Chris had hoped that Darren would enjoy seeing his abuser being the one abused, but apparently he’d had his revenge and now wanted nothing to do with it. That was okay, Chris would make sure Scotty paid on behalf of Darren and the others Scotty had tried to hurt.

    “Remember when I had to punish you last weekend,” Chris reminded the boy currently impaled on his dick, “Bet you wish you were only drinking my piss and sucking my cock now, instead taking dick up your ass.”

    Based on how tight the fag-in-the-making’s hole was, Chris had no doubt that Scotty’s ass had never taken dick before today. But Chris was pretty certain that today was just the start of a new role that Scotty would be playing out with his friends. He might have been one of the boys before today, but now Chris had a pretty good idea that Scotty would be their bitch going forward. Watching him bounce around on two dicks, Chris thought he was cut out for the part too.

    Not wanting this to be over so quickly, Chris slowed his pace down a bit. He knew the others were eager to take their turn, Mark was practically jumping out of his skin to get a chance to fuck this hole. But he wanted this to leave a lasting impression on Scotty, so that the bitch didn’t get anymore stupid ideas. Chris was still unable to believe that Scotty thought he would have been able to get away with it, although he got further than Chris would’ve otherwise thought he would. It just showed how immature the bitch was, and how he needed someone to teach him this invaluable lesson.

    “You don’t fuck with your superiors,” Chris spoke his thought aloud, “And you sure as fuck don’t try to come between brothers.”

    Mark grinned at his brother and high-fived him. Although everything was fine between them now, Chris was still going to have to sit Mark down and have a pretty stern conversation with him. His little brother did after all conspire against him with this little bitch. And while Chris appreciated a healthy amount of sibling rivalry, his brother had taken it a few steps too far. He needed to make sure that Mark understand he was never to pull something like that again, unless he wanted to receive a similar punishment.

    “I said no fucking teeth, bitch,” Randy shouted, pulling his dick out of Scotty’s mouth, before slapping him in the face and stuffing his face full of hard cock again.

    “Don’t forget to give a yank or two on the leash,” Chris reminded his friend, “That should help him keep his mouth open wide.”

    The fucking went on for a while longer, Chris sawing in and out of Scotty’s ass, while Randy bruised his tonsils. But like all good things, this too was bound to end. Before too long, Chris’ balls started to draw up to his body, ready to dump the second and much bigger load into their new bitch.

    “You ready to take my babies, Scotty,” Chris asked, emphasizing his name with an extra deep thrust, “I hope you appreciate them.”

    “Actually,” Randy said, pulling his dick out of Scotty’s mouth and slapping him across the face with it instead, “I want to hear you ask my buddy to cum deep in your pussy.”

    “Fuck you, faggot,” Scotty growled through clenched teeth, grunting with each thrust of Chris’ dick. Randy shot Chris a strange look, almost worried, guilty, when his cousin called him a faggot.

    “The sooner you ask,” Chris tried to reason with him, looking away from Randy and down at their fucktoy, “The sooner I’ll shoot my load in your ass and be done with fucking you…for now.”

    “But I want to hear you ask nicely,” Randy added, yanking on the leash and stuffing his dick back into Scotty’s mouth, “And you need to make sure we can hear you clearly.”

    Scotty refused at first, but after a couple of extra vicious thrusts into his hole, he relented and mumbled out something unintelligible around Randy’s cock.

    “What was that?” Chris asked, pulling his dick almost all the way out, before slamming forward, “I couldn’t understand you. Didn’t your mom teach you not to talk with your mouthful?”

    The boys all laughed and Chris saw they were jerking their dicks furiously. When he got to Craig’s big dick, he glanced up and made eye contact. Something in the boy’s gaze wouldn’t let Chris look away and brought him closer to orgasm.

    The begging that came from Scotty’s mouth next was good enough for Chris. He drove forward, causing Scotty to slide in the piss mud and choke on more of Randy’s dick. His balls contracted, his cock thickened, and he felt spurt after spurt of thick cum work its way up his shaft from his balls, emptying into the cumdump that was once Scotty. Craig stepped forward and pressed his crotch into Chris’ face, bending over to grip Chris’ ass in his hands and press him even deeper into Scotty.

    “Get that load as deep as it’ll go,” Craig encouraged, while grinding his hard dick against the side of Chris’ face.

    Riding out the crashing waves of his orgasm, Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking in deep breaths of the pubes his nose was presently buried in. The musky scent made him feel light headed for a moment and he found himself rubbing his nose around in Craig’s bush, enjoying the smell. As his dick continued to pump ropes of jizz into Scotty’s ass, Craig kneaded Chris’ ass in his meaty palms. Chris let out a small gasp when he felt Craig’s finger graze his hole and Craig took that opportunity to press the shaft of his cock between Chris’ parted lips.

    “Fuck yeah,” Mark’s shout brought Chris to his senses. He shook his head, and Craig got the hint and raised up off him.

    “Hope you enjoyed that,” Craig whispered into Chris’ ear as he stood back up, then said aloud while gripping his dick, “Can’t wait to get in that ass.”


    “So here’s what you’re going to do,” Mark had whispered to Randy, as they watched Darren fuck Scotty, “You’re allowed to make your cousin suck your dick, treat him however you want, but you are not allowed to cum or fuck him yet. You’ll get a chance for that, but not right now.” 

    Now here he was, looking down at his cousin, who had his lips stretched around his dick as Randy fed it to him. And as good as it felt to have Scotty sucking on his cock, Randy was unable to forget the order that Mark had given him shortly before he slid is dick between his cousins lips. Up until that moment, Randy had felt in control again, out from under the oppression of Scotty. His anger with his cousin for what he’d done to Darren, coupled with seeing what he’d been trying to do to Chris, had filled him with a need for vengeance.

    The hate that seethed through him was overwhelming. He hated his cousin for what he had done to him, and for bringing Mark in on it. If it hadn’t been for his cousin, Mark wouldn’t have spent this past week tormenting him. But that seemed as much Randy’s own doing, as it was the fault of the two boys. There must have been some inherent weakness in him that allowed Scotty to take advantage of him in the first place.

    He hated Scotty more for what Darren had endured at the hands of the evil boy. When Darren had said Randy couldn’t keep him safe because he was just a faggot too, it had made Randy feel like a complete failure to his little brother. He’d been right, Randy couldn’t even protect Darren from a kid. That realization had nearly brought tears to Randy’s eyes.

    But what seemed to upset him the most is how Scotty had tried to manipulate both Craig and Chris. He had attacked his cousin when he’d found Scotty about to fuck Chris. If Craig and Brian hadn’t pulled him off, Randy might very well have beaten him within an inch of his life. Seeing Chris in such a vulnerable position made Randy’s own life feel unstable. If someone as strong as Chris could be taken down by a shit like Scotty, no wonder that Randy had so easily fallen. Randy was still unable to fully understand exactly what he felt for Chris, but it had become something more than friendship in the last week. So he felt like it was his duty to protect this man.

    That anger had served to, at least temporarily, restore his manhood and gave him the strength to take action against his former Master. It was Mark’s order that reminded Randy that he may be finally rid of one Master, but he was still Mark’s bitch. His remaining Master was not even going to allow him a reprieve in a moment like this. When Randy was otherwise hoping to get so much satisfaction from doing worse to Scotty than the boy had done to him. This conflict fucked with his mind more than he could have ever imagined. A part of him wanted to rebel against Mark, but he thought better of it. Mark was the far more dominant than Scotty and he couldn’t know what his young Master would do if Randy attempted to disobey.

    So he took what joy he could from pissing in Scotty’s face and making the fallen boy suck his dick. He knew he was going to have to fake an orgasm to avoid Chris asking questions. It took all his will power to hold back the load aching to be released. He wanted to blast his cum into his evil cousin more than anything. This only served to deepen the humiliation he felt at Mark being in control of something most men took for granted.

    As Randy watched Chris fuck Scotty’s ass, he envied the boy. As brutal as the fuck was, Randy still longed to be in his place. What he really wanted was to recreate what had happened early, but instead of it being Matty’s dick he was riding while having his face pounding by Craig, he imagined it was Chris fucking him. He had this vision in his head when Chris started to cum in Scotty. And it was that fantasy fueling his lust that caused him to push his face into Craig’s hairy ass when the stud stepped in front of him and leaned over Chris.

    It didn’t matter if Chris saw him eating Craig’s ass or not, it was something his best friend had now seen him do many times before. So he had no shame as he rubbed his face in the sweaty ass and took in deep breath’s of the smell of a real man. He had just started to lap up and down his asscrack, tasting the pungent hole, when Craig stood back up and announced he wanted a piece of ass. At first, Randy worried that he meant to fuck him right there in front of Chris, then realized he must have been talking about fucking Scotty.

    You’re going to have to wait a little longer,” Mark said to Craig, stepping up to wait for Chris to get out from between Scotty’s legs, “Because I’m up next.”


    Whoever had said revenge is sweet, must have been thinking of this moment right here. And Mark wanted to make sure the revenge he was about to take out on Scotty’s ass was the sweetest. As Chris got up from behind Scotty, Mark grabbed the legs of his former conspirator and new nemesis and flipped the boy onto his back. Mark wanted to watch the look on Scotty’s face as he got fucked. He wanted to look his new bitch in the eyes as he emptied his balls into his guts.

    The cry of pain Scotty let out with his arms pinned underneath him provided Randy a gaping mouth to stuff his dick back into. Mark knelt down behind and lifted Scotty’s legs, handing them to his faggot to hold by the ankles. Mark gripped the leash in his fist and yanked up hard on it, raising Scotty off the ground by his bound balls. Recalling the pain and humiliation that Scotty had inflicted on him and Chris just a short while ago, he drew Scotty up further just to hear him moan in pain around the faggot’s dick.

    The stupid bitch was gonna pay for having crossed him. Scotty must be mental to think that he could have gotten away with it. Mark figured the other boys were partly punishing Scotty for what he’d done to Darren, but Mark could care less about that. Yeah, maybe Scotty had been a little rough, but it wasn’t like he’d done any permanent damage. And it wasn’t any different from how Mark was using Randy, that’s just what you did with fags. So Mark wasn’t pissed at Scotty because of Darren. And we wasn’t even upset about Scotty attacking Chris. Mark was pissed because of what had been done to him personally.

    On the one hand, Mark should be thanking Scotty. It was because of him that Mark even found out what he’d long suspected, that Randy was a fag. And Scotty was the one that had given Mark the idea that he should make his older brother his bitch too. Hell, because of Scotty, Mark had gotten his dick sucked by Chris. The best part was that he could now brag that his older brother had swallowed his cum, but with the blame falling on Scotty. And Mark would find every opportunity to remind Chris that only one of them knew what the other’s cum tasted like.

    Where Scotty had fucked up with Mark was thinking that he could take Mark down along with Chris. Mark rammed his cock up into Scotty’s ass while remembering how the little bitch had fingered his ass hard. Watching Scotty get his face fucked by Randy reminded Mark how Scotty had forced him to suck dick. This was what Mark was pissed about, what was unacceptable. That Scotty thought he could treat Mark like a bitch. Well, now Mark was going to be sure it was clear who was the real bitch.

    Scotty’s entire front side was covered in mud. It was especially satisfying to see Scotty’s face caked in the mud. Randy rode the traitor’s face, while Mark plowed his ass and yanked the leash. The sounds Scotty was making were exquisite, grunts and groans of anguish, muffled by a cock stuffed in his mouth.

    Mark could feel his brother’s cum lubing up the tight hole, tight for the time being at least. He loved the sound of cum squelching around his cock as Mark fucked in and out of the newest bitch. He glanced over at Chris, who gave his brother an approving smile as he watched Mark work toward adding more of their family’s DNA into this piece of trash. The other boys were standing around, all jerking their cocks above their victim. All but Darren, who was sitting by the river, and Steve, who was standing nearby looking angry but didn’t have his dick in hand.

    Apparently Steve didn’t want to participate in his former best friend’s downfall. This reluctance to contribute to the destruction of Scotty only fueled Mark’s determination to see it happen. He wanted Scotty to feel completely hopeless, to know that he didn’t have a single friend left, that there was no one who would come to his defense. Before the night was done, Scotty would understand that his actions had consequences and that there were no do overs. The bitch had made his bed and now he had to lie there and get fucked in it.

    “Remember when you had that dumb ass idea,” Mark taunted Scotty, accentuating each word with a hard thrust into his hole and tug on the leash, “That you could fuck with me and my brother? Or your best friend and his brother? How’d that work out for you, huh bitch?”

    “This is just the beginning of a brand new life for the bitch,” Craig grinned sadistically, stamping on Scotty’s chest as he jerked his big dick above him, “He’s gonna have my big dick in one of his holes daily. But I think that he should be Steve’s bitch, only seems fair since they were such good friends.”

    “Sounds like a great idea,” Mark was happy to hear Craig aligned with his thinking, “And with school starting this week, I’m sure Scotty will be real popular.”

    As Mark continued to pummel Scotty’s ass, he thought about how it was so much tighter than Randy’s. He was about to share that comparison with the two faggots, when he remembered that Chris was there. As a group, they’d agreed to keep Randy’s secret from Mark’s brother, at least a little longer. Mark figured that he’d let Chris know that Randy was a faggot one day, but only once he had them both taking his dick regularly.

    “I’m surprised your friends got to Scotty before you,” Mark taunted Craig, thinking about the high school boys that Darren said had used him and Scotty, “Seemed pretty obvious to me from the day I met him, that Scotty was a little bitch.”

    “What can I say,” Craig responded by wagging his big dick around, “I was trying to be respectful of my little brother’s friend. But I’ll be making up for lost time tonight.”

    Mark couldn’t read the look on Steve’s face. He figured he’d have a chance to talk with his new friend and convince him that it was the natural order of things for Scotty to be his bitch. Mark needed to make sure someone was going to be humiliating this shit on a regular basis, considering Mark lived in a different city and couldn’t be there to personally supervise.

    “Please can I cum, Sir,” Matty asked Craig, his dick looking like it was ready to explode.

    “Of course, baby,” Craig allowed, “Just make sure to shoot it all over our guest of honor. It’ll be like a cum baptism.”

    “Yes Sir,” Matty got out just before a deep groan that accompanied volleys of cum rained down all over Scotty’s chest.

    “Fuck yeah, good boy,” Craig encouraged, jerking his own dick faster.

    “Get ready, dog,” Brian finally spoke up, coming out of a lust filled daze and drawing Paul close to him, “Let’s coat this bitch in our spunk.”

    Without saying a word, Brian took Paul’s free hand and wrapped it around his dick, so that Paul was now jerking them both off. Mark was too busy enjoying the tight grip of Scotty’s hole around his dick, to think too much about Brian making his friend stroke his dick. It wasn’t too unusual for a friend to help another friend out, and it didn’t surprise Mark that it was the smaller of the two boys doing the work.

    “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Was all that came out of Craig’s mouth as he shot his load. Mark was impressed with how much cum fired out, as Craig pointed this particular gun down to coat Randy’s crotch and Scotty’s face in his sperm.

    Paul must have mastered the technique of jerking off. It wasn’t too long after he’d starting stroking both him and Brian that the bigger boy humped his dick into the smaller boy’s tight fist and ejaculated his own impressive load. Feeling his friend cumming in his grip did the trick for Paul, who also began to spill his seed, while softly moaning.

    As the three boys achieved orgasm simultaneously, their seed contrasted nicely against the layer of mud coating most of Scotty’s body. It was a beautiful work of art and one that Mark intended to make Scotty wear all night. It was pretty much guaranteed there would be a few more loads added to it before they decided to call it a day.

    “He doing a decent enough job sucking your cock to make you cum,” Mark asked Randy, knowing full well that Randy wouldn’t be cumming. That was part of what turned Mark on about this whole scene, he was in control of two bitches at once, “Cum down his throat!”

    Randy was sitting on Scotty’s face, dick stuffed in his mouth, holding him by the ankles. He took his queue and began to frantically hump Scotty’s face while moaning a little too dramatically. Mark thought it sounded totally fake, but he was pretty sure Chris wouldn’t suspect anything because why would any guy fake an orgasm.

    “Fuck yeah, bitch, I know you don’t want this to end,” Mark was speaking to Scotty now, “But your tight pussy feels too good on my cock.”

    Once Randy had pulled off, Mark saw Scotty’s eyes were shut tight. This was unacceptable. Mark grabbed Scotty by the hair, yanking his head forward while pulling up on the leash with his other fist. That did the trick and Scotty’s eyes shot open, just as Mark slammed his cock forward and emptied his balls into his new faggot.

    “That’s right, bitch,” Mark sneered down at Scotty, who had hate and resignation in his eyes, “Look at me as I dumped my load in your pussy.”

    Mark released his hair and let Scotty’s head splash back down into the piss mud. He gave the bitch a hard slap across the face, as his dick continued to paint Scotty’s insides. Mark thought that he might have enjoyed this fuck more than the first time he got to fuck Randy. Both had been equally hot, but this one was satisfying for a completely different reason.

    Reluctantly, Mark extracted his cock from Scotty’s hole. Still pulling his balls up tight by the leash, Mark spun the bitch in the mud. Once his face reached Mark’s crotch, he used Scotty’s gaping mouth to clean off his dick. Mark figured the taste must be pretty interesting, considering there was a mixture of his, Chris and Darren’s cum, as well as Scotty’s own assjuices. And despite the fag protesting beneath him, a yank on the balls and smack in the face calmed him down and got him to take care of the task at hand.

    “God damn, Randy,” Chris sounded impressed, slapping his friend on the back and batting at Randy’s erection, “That sounded like one hell of an orgasm, but your dick is still hard as a rock. You’re a fucking stud!”

    “Who’s hungry,” Mark asked, smirking at Randy as he stood up and pressed Scotty’s face sideways into the mud, “We need to re-energize for round-two!”


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  • Wormholes

    All my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself.

    All my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.

    This story is brought to you by my wonderful Patrons. I love you guys!

    And now, our feature presentation…


    “Dude, I’m not letting you use my ass as a model for your gay ass sex toy,” I laughed at my roommate, taking another shot of tequila. 

    “Aww, come on, Beau, nobody would ever know it was you. Please, I really need a model.”

    “Why don’t you use yourself, then?” I asked, watching him pour another shot for each of us.

    “Because I can’t get behind myself to do it, I don’t have enough hands, and, uh, let’s just say mine won’t be as tight.”

    “Dude, too much information, and I don’t even like the idea of dudes sticking their dicks in something that looks like my hole. I get it, you’re a homo, but I’m not.”

    “I’ll give you ten percent of all the profits. Come on, a self-cleaning, self-heating sex toy is bound to make a killing.” Silence fell after his offer. Before it had been a favor, but now he was talking money. He was grinning, fully aware that he’d caught my attention.

    “Fifty percent,” I countered.

    “Fifteen.”

    “Thirty.”

    “Twenty, best offer.” He held out his hand to seal the bargain. I stared at his palm for a few seconds, trying to decide if I was truly willing to let him take a mold of my asshole for his sex toy.

    “Done,” I said at last, grabbing his hand. He let out a cheer and poured us another shot. We tossed it back, and he stood up.

    “I’ll go get the mold—get your pants down, and we can sort out the paperwork tomorrow.”

    “You want to do this now?”

    “Why not? It’ll be easier while you’re drunk, do you really want to do it sober?”

    “Good point,” I agreed, pouring myself another shot while he disappeared in his room, a familiar cloud of incense billowing out the door as he passed through it. When we first moved in together, I thought he was smoking weed and holding out on me but turns out the dude just likes incense and shit.

    I tipped back the shot, and reluctantly started unfastening my belt. I was sitting there with my pants open, but on, when he came back, holding a little jar.

    “Sorry, but you’ve got to take them off and face backwards on the couch. It’ll be quick, I promise.” He opened the jar and dumped what looked like a ball of clay into his palm. “Just think of the money.” Grumbling, I stood up and turned around before I shoved my pants and boxers down, stepping out of them before kneeling on the cushions with my arms resting on the back of the couch. “Um, spread your legs more, and you’ve got to spread your cheeks apart so I can get a mold.”

    “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I glared back over my shoulder at him, watching him kneed and work the ball of clay between his hands. I reached back, squeezed my eyes shut, and spread my cheeks.

    I jumped when a warm ball of clay squished down over my asshole. It hadn’t looked sticky, in his hands, but it felt like it was sticking to me, gripping every contour. He started tapping on it, and I jumped again.

    “Careful, stay still, it won’t take long,” he said in a calm tone. I could feel him doing something with the clay, which distracted me for a minute from what he was saying… It didn’t sound like English.

    “What?” I asked.

    “Oh, it’s nothing, I just have a song stuck in my head, don’t worry about it.” He went back to his soft muttering, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of freaky music he was listening to. The clay was feeling even warmer now, and my hole was starting to tingle.

    It was like I could feel my heartbeat in the clay, and I struggled not to panic as the sensation sent blood rushing into my flaccid dick.

    We waited, him muttering under his breath, and me trying not to get hard. Then—all at once—I felt the clay go rigid, releasing its grip on the contours of my asshole.

    “All done,” Felix said, taking the clay away. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”  I struggled to pull my pants up without letting him see my chubby.

    “Uh, yeah, sure.” I settled back on the couch, zipping up my jeans as he cradled the clay mold of my asshole in his palms, as if it were precious treasure.

    “You good? I want to get the first prototype made tonight so that I can start filling the pre-orders.” He was practically dancing on the spot. I laughed, the tension melting away.

    “Have fun.” I said. Without another word, he turned and practically skipped down the hall to his room. I took another shot, clicked on the TV, and drifted off.

    I woke up late, or early—depending on if you’re an optimist or a pessimist—and stumbled drunkenly down the hall toward my own room. Felix’s door was cracked, and as I passed I could hear him singing whatever song he’d been muttering out loud. Singing might not be the word, it was all the same note, but I wouldn’t call it rapping by any stretch. I peeked through the crack to see the weirdo sitting naked inside a circle of what looked like sand, or salt, with candles all around it.

    “I don’t even want to know,” I mumbled to myself as I pushed my door closed behind me and collapsed onto my bed.

    The next morning when I left my room, Felix was already gone. There was a box sitting on the coffee table with a folded piece of paper tucked under it so that the fan wouldn’t blow it away. I pulled out the note, first.

    Beau,

    I finished the prototype last night and finished the first few toys for the guys who pre-ordered. I’m out sending them off, but the first prototype is all yours.

    Have fun,

    Felix

    I dropped the paper on the coffee table and picked up the box. Reluctantly, I lifted the lid and came face to face with the fruit of my drunken decisions. The casing was sleek, simple, polished chrome, and I could see the flesh-colored bulge at one end. I picked it up by the casing and turned it to look.

    So that’s what my asshole looks like.

    I was tempted to touch it, to see what it felt like, but that seemed way too gay for me, even if it was modeled after my own asshole. I put it back in the box, stuck it under the coffee table, and went about my day.

    When Felix got back, he handed me a thick envelope of cash with a grin.

    “Here’s your cut for the preorders.”

    “Holy shit,” I said, flipping through the bills.

    “Did you try it out?” He asked with a wicked grin.

    “Of course not, that’d be too gay.”

    “I’d say it’d be more like masturbating, since it’s your own ass.”

    “I might agree if I regularly masturbated my ass.” A few seconds of silence fell, and then we both burst out laughing.

    “Want to watch a movie?” He asked as he got himself under control.

    “Sure,” I agreed, starting the recent superhero movie that we’d been talking about watching. It was just getting into the action when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Without turning my head, I looked sideways to see that Felix had scooted the box with the prototype toy out from under the coffee table and was leaning over to reach inside and take it out of the box.

    He was holding the toy so that I could see my asshole, and he brought three fingers to it and started tapping and rubbing, tapping and rubbing.

    It was the strangest thing—it was like I could feel someone tapping and rubbing my asshole, but it was firmly planted on the couch, so there was no way. I had to be imagining it. But I wasn’t imagining the blood that had started rushing into my dick, sending it snaking across my thigh inside my boxers as it went rigid.

    And Felix kept rubbing, and tapping, and staring intently forward at the movie, not even realizing that my eyes were looking his way. He took his fingers away, and the sensations stopped, but they moved to start fumbling to open the fly of his jeans, fishing out his already erect penis.

    Right next to me!

    I watched him take his erection in one hand, position the toy with the other, and then press the head of his cock against it. I gasped and flinched on the couch as I felt burning pressure at my hole.

    “Did you say something?” He asked casually, still rubbing the head of his cock around the toy he’d talked me into letting him take a mold of my asshole for.

    “N-no!” I gasped as he started to push the toy down onto his cock. The pressure at my ass intensified. I could feel myself stretching, and then I saw the toy slip down onto his dick a few inches as I felt a few inches of cock pop into my ass.

    I bit my lip to keep from moaning, watching as he started pushing down, down, down. His cock slid slowly into the toy, and at the same time I could feel something working its way into my ass. I wanted more than anything to get up and get out of there, but I knew he’d see that I was boned if I moved.

    He shoved the toy down, burying his entire shaft inside it. As I felt it tear through me, pleasure unlike anything I’d ever experienced ripped through my body. My vision split as my eyes crossed, and I did such a good job stifling my moan that he would have never heard it, if not for the unfortunate timing—a quiet moment in between action scenes.

    “You okay, buddy?” Felix asked, still not looking over.

    “Ohh, yesss!” I gasped, blushing, waiting for him to start moving again.

    But he stayed still, leaving his dick buried in the toy as he watched the movie. Inside my ass, I could feel it—planted, unmoving, unrelenting, burning… Every now and then he would shift, and I’d feel the motion in my ass.

    I’m feeling his dick in the toy!

    I knew it wasn’t possible, but there was no way I could be imagining this. I rocked my hips on the couch, and I watched as Felix shifted his hips in response, a soft moan escaping his lips as I felt the dick move inside my ass.

    It’s his dick!

    I found myself having trouble staying still, wiggling and fidgeting on the cushions as I struggled to keep myself under control. I was so horny, and I had no idea what was going on, but it felt too good to worry about it now.

    Felix was sitting there, one hand holding the toy on his dick, the other gripping the couch. I watched him press back against the cushions, chest heaving as he panted, staring at the screen with glassy eyes.

    As crazy as all this was, I was completely unprepared for what happened next.

    There was a sudden, intense stretching sensation, and then both Felix and I let out moans as I felt like another penis was squishing into me right alongside my roommate’s. It started moving rapidly in and out, pressing Felix’s dick against my insides as it plowed. Felix was gripping the couch tighter, and I saw his back start to arch. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he pressed down on the toy, shoving it against his pelvis as hard as he could.

    Both dicks went still, pressed against each other, stretching me wide, and then I felt burning heat start to spread through my guts.

    They’re cumming! Oh, god, they’re cumming in my ass!

    It was too much for me, and for the first time in my entire life, I felt my dick go off without being touched. A deep, gurgling groan escaped me as burning wetness mirroring that inside me spread across my thigh, soaking into my jeans to quickly be cooled by the chilled air of our apartment.

    One of the dicks seemed to pull out, and the other one gave a final few bouncing pumps before also pulling free. When my vision cleared, Felix had put the toy away and slid it back under the table. He sniffed at the air a few times, and I realized that the scent of the load I’d pumped into my pants was filling the room. He smiled, stretched, and then got to his feet.

    “Man, I’m beat. We’ll have to finish this later. Good night.” He walked down the hall to his room, leaving me sitting there confused, wondering if I’d imagined what just happened. I looked down at the wet spot on my thigh; that was real enough. Until I figured things out, I had to keep Felix from using the toy again, so I retrieved the box, stopped the movie, and walked down the hall to my own room. When I tugged my clothes off, I stared down at my body and confronted the sight of my own obscenely swollen erection. Exhausted, I settled into bed, the box forgotten on my nightstand.

    “Unnnhhhh,” wanton, slutty moans pulled me from my dreams. My eyes snapped open, my room already full of daylight, and I looked down to see my naked body spread on top of the sheets, my hips bucking and wiggling as the sensation of two dicks stretching my asshole forced churring moans and primal grunts from my lungs.

    Inside me, it felt like the two dicks were having a sword fight, sliding against each other in opposition and tugging my hole wider open.

    “Waaaaa!” I cried out, eyes wide, as I felt a third dick squish in between them, tentatively, exploring, before picking up the pace to join the fray. “Awww! Three! Fuuuuck!” I babbled, looking over at the box on my nightstand. I reached over and fumbled my way into the box, gripping the prototype toy and pulling it out.

    At least I knew that Felix wasn’t playing with it again.

    I felt one of the dicks inside me go even more rigid, and burning heat spread around the other dicks. One pulled free, relieving the pressure for a moment, and then I felt two drive in at nearly the same time.

    “Awwwww!” I moaned, and without thinking about it I put the toy clutched in my fist against my leaking dick and shoved it down.

    Another cock tore through my insides, squishing through the group that was already there.

    “Aww, it’s my cock!” I cried out, my voice ringing out over the fading echoes of my whorish moaning. I left my dick planted in the toy, feeling the other cocks moving all around it in the tight space, but it was too much. I felt myself lose control, my dick pressing harder against all the other ones, and then I felt my own burning load pumping, squirting, and spreading through the tight spaces between dicks in a tight space.

    “Ah, good to see you using it!” Felix said, and I looked over to see him standing in my open doorway, grinning down at me. I opened my mouth to respond, and then I felt another cock between my own and the others inside my ass, making the tight space tighter.

    “Guuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnn!” I squealed up at him stupidly. He laughed, reaching down to grab the toy and bounce it on my dick a few times.

    “Exactly,” he agreed, letting go. “Now, I just heard back from your little bro—I gave him one of the first toys yesterday, and he loved it! He said he gave it a try last night, around the time we were watching that movie.”

    My brother?

    I remembered the feeling of two dicks in my ass. One of them my roommate’s.. One of them… 

    My brother?

    But… He came in my ass…

    My brother?

    I let out a confused moan.

    “Haha, I thought you’d like that. Anyway, he loved it, but he said the asshole thing keeps turning him off—like he kept imagining it felt like another dude was fucking it, too—so,” He pulled a jar from his pocket and started working another ball of clay between his hands. “I need to get a mold of your lips really quick, so I can make a special edition toy, just for your brother.”


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  • The virgin HGV driver

    The thing about most lorry drivers is that are usually older, married, inexperienced and they don’t play games with you. When one came up on my gay dating app as nearby, just parked up and as randy as a bitch on heat, I made contact and agreed to meet in a lay-by just off the A6. We had exchanged model types – vehicles, that is: he was on the look-out for a black American-built hatchback and I was on the look-out for a white truck with the name of a seed manufacturer on the side.

    I have always had a thing for lorry drivers. When I was a child there was a day so hot that red sand from the Sahara Desert was falling over the countryside, and I had the bad luck to be travelling in the back of my parents’ car for six hours as we came back from a visit to relatives on the south coast. Even the open windows could not stop the stifling heat. What I did notice was the lorry drivers: in those days, before corporate identity, PPE and air-conditioning, truckers had the same problem with heat that I was having, so most were driving either in a singlet or shirtless, and through the windscreen and open side window I got a good look at them. Some were fat, some stocky, some muscular, even some thin, and they were of all ages, shades of white from paper-white to sallow-skinned, some tattooed, some hairy and some smooth. I was fascinated: I also noticed that I had an inbuilt preference for meat and hair, except on the head, and they were the ones which went into my pre-pubescent wank bank. Thereafter I always looked out for truckers (as well as road workers and builders), and always wanted to fuck one or be fucked by one. As a teenager, I tried hitching lifts, hoping that I would meet some beefy trucker who would pull over and use me for his pleasure until I begged for mercy – and a couple of refusals, I would be kicked out, spunk dripping from my arse, but that was never to be.

    My job now means I travel a lot, but as I tend to stay away all week, my only chance to meet a lorry driver is when I come home, which limits time, and it is rather dependent on the time of year and the weather. Cruising cabs in lay-bys is a lost cause in the winter months, when it’s dark and cold, and also if it’s wet and cool. On hot summer days you can walk past, engage in conversation with some, especially if they have the door open and they’re inside, nearly naked and cooling off, but most truckers are not gay and not looking for sex with a strange bloke – sadly – and it’s sod’s law that the ones I fancied, big, meaty, tattooed and shaven-headed, were straighter than the proverbial dye . Of course, if they go off wandering in nearby woods, then they are indeed cruising: I fucked one in woods near a stream in the early evening, and ended up with around thirty mosquito bites which were rather hard to explain away, so in the end, I resorted to using a dating app.

    I set off in the car from my hotel, and after fifteen minutes, I pulled off the A6 into the lay-by and parked in front of the truck. The curtains on the cab were drawn, so I could not see in. I made sure that it was the right one: banging on the door of some cab where the driver isn’t expecting you is not a recipe for a happy encounter. At best you’d be told to fuck off, at worst you’d get beaten up.

    Perfect. It was a warm evening and still light. If it was dark, I would have stripped off and just taken my car keys, even in the autumn or spring, but as it was light, I didn’t want to be seen. I left the car, dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and barefoot, and locked the car remotely. I went round to the passenger side of the cab, which was unlocked for me. I climbed in.

    Phil (at least that was he called himself on the site) was wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. There is something for everybody on that site, and not every body likes cross-dressers, muscle boys or twinks, and he was exactly how he described himself, which I liked. He was indeed in his fifties, a little short, thickset and a bit tubby, smooth-skinned with arms covered in tattoos. After I pulled the huge door shut, and made sure it was locked, I stripped: no point in hanging around. When I pulled down my shorts, my cock sprang up, big, hard and veiny, with the foreskin back, and I could see he was impressed. Phil took his own shirt off, and there were a couple more tats on his pectorals. We climbed on to the driver’s bunk, which was almost as wide as a double bed, and kissed.

    Married men are good at kissing and good at tit work. It comes from years of making a wife happy in bed. When he came close his mouth smelled of toothpaste, but his skin smelled vaguely of diesel and oil, except, as I found later, his cock, balls, arse and all those areas down there where he had cleaned himself with wipes, and his armpits, which smelled sexily of sweaty excitement. Phil kissed well, our mouths together, and the initial thrill was making my cock even harder. He turned me on my back, straddled me and began working my nipples with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing, twisting, flicking, knurling and nibbling them, till they were both stiff and erect. He was good at this, but he wanted now to suck my cock, and I wanted to feed it to him. He said he had sucked cock before, and I believed him, but whilst he had a man’s instinct for worshipping a cock, I don’t think he’d taken one as big as mine in his mouth. It’s not that long, around seven inches, nearer nine if you measure from where it leaves my ballbag, but it’s thick, and my helmet can swell up into a whopper. I guided him slowly to take as much in as possible, then to let go as soon as he started to gag. Sometimes I like seeing a guy kneeling in front of me, gagging as I stuff every inch of my tool down his throat, but Phil the trucker was just not one of those. He was trying his best, and was starting to make my slippery cock feel good.

    Now it was my turn. I rolled him on his back and now played from on top. I kissed his mouth hard, nibbled his ear lobes and kissed his neck, before pouncing on his juicy big nipples, which jutted out from his plump pectorals. He gasped as I began to work them, testing how hard he liked it, but it seemed that Phil could take his nipples being worked hard, and there was a direct line to his cock. I felt behind me and his cock, which had been slack so far, began to thicken, lengthen and stand up, not a monster, but a good size with a foreskin which rolled back by itself and a nice purplish head. It was also quite straight, with a head of similar width to the shaft, and almost no veins, unlike my gnarled, veined old warhorse. I sucked his nipples out of his chest and let them go. I squeezed them hard, pulled them, twisted them like I was playing with two dials, and bit into them. He squirmed, writhed and yelped: I bet his old lady didn’t treat them so roughly. All the time I let his cock knock my arse and balls. I now let his suffering nipples go, and ran my tongue down his chubby belly and over his shaved crotch, which smelled slightly of wet wipes. I popped his cock into my mouth, taking it all the way, so that the tip was starting to go into my throat. I bobbed my head up and down to run my mouth over his shaft, nibbled around the soft, spongey helmet, nibbled the frenum, licked the underside of his shaft, and turned my attention to his balls, whilst gently wanking his slippery cock just under the helmet. Phil was writhing and moaning. I sucked each ball in turn, gently pulling it away from his body and rolling it in my mouth, then took both together, stuffing my cheeks with balls like a hamster. He was loving it. I took his cock in my mouth again, loving the feel of his helmet pushing into my throat and the shaft of flesh behind it. I felt him lift his arse off the bunk, and detected the surge of spunk in his cock tube, and then in seconds he was crying out in pain and ecstasy as he came, gobbets of warm spunk jetting down my throat. My mouth clamped down to drain every last drop of spunk, every last little sperm, until acute post-coming sensitivity forced him to withdraw. I could smell his sweat as I swallowed his salty cum.

    He thanked me. He had never come in a man’s mouth before or so hard. I lay with him for a few minutes as he recovered, almost falling asleep. My cock, though, was still hard, and looking for its own pleasure. Phil began to kiss me again and started to play with my cock. I rolled him on his side and spooned him, my cock pressing up against his arse, my hand on his nipples, stroking and teasing him. I moved my hand down his belly, felt his cock, which was now dormant, and moved it over his arse to his hole, which I stroked gently. I leaned over to get the tube of cheap lube in my shorts’ pocket, squeezed some out on to his arse, and then began to rub it into his hole, first with my middle finger until it felt more relaxed, and then inserting my index finder as well. His arsehole, which was as tight as a piano string, began to yield. I kissed his neck softly, and whispered that he was about to enjoy something new.

    Phil was ready. I guessed he would be nervous the first time, and indeed I could smell fresh sweat from his armpits, which aroused me.  He had also not asked for a rubber, but I was tested and clean and he was a virgin the risk was low. Taking this virgin trucker was going to be a meeting of souls as well as two bodies together in a lay-by somewhere north of Luton. I rolled him on to his front, straightened his cock and balls out so that his cock was pointing at his feet, parted his legs and climbed on board.

    I felt my cock slide in through his outer ring, and he gasped. I powered on to his inner ring, which had never been opened by a cock before, holding on to his thick, strong shoulders. It opened slowly, and I could sense that surge of pain which affects novices. I pulled back, let the pain subside, and checked whether he wanted to go on. I withdrew completely, slathered more lube on to my throbbing cock and into his hole, and came back for a second attempt. This time it yielded gently, and I could feel my cock pressing forward. Phil stiffened, but this time I could tell he was just uncomfortable. For me, it is one of the best moments with a man, when you open up that second ring and you’re inside, connected, in charge and giving pleasure. Once inside, I stayed still for a few seconds, letting him get used to the new and wonderful sensation of a man’s cock up his tight arsehole, before gently pumping. Finally, I got the whole of my cock inside him, so that skin over my bladder was touching his cheeks with every thrust. He was relaxing, so that fucking him became easier. I moved his legs gently a little further apart and straightened them, so that he was prone now and I could take him in the missionary position, although as I felt my spunk getting ready to be shot into his guts, I pushed his legs together, put mine on the outside, and pumped like a piston. I could feel my spunk coming from my balls, up my cock tube, that delicious moment of painful ecstasy, and then shooting cum spurts into his virgin hole.

    We lay back together. I stroked him, and his cock and balls were now really soft and small. The cab was occasionally buffeted by passing traffic, wobbling slightly. We chatted for a while. His was an old story: married for years, feelings for men since adolescence, now he and his wife didn’t do it any more, not comfortable with the idea of coming out and divorcing, so trying a man on the side. I knew the story. I held him as we spoke, my sticky, slack cock stuck to his arse cheek, my hand stroking him

    Outside the sun had set and it was dark, and time for me to go. Phil moved into the driver’s seat, still naked, and for one last time we kissed before he let me out. I ambled bollock-naked to my car, slipped on the T-shirt and shorts before I got in, and drove off.

    He isn’t on the site any more, but I still look out for his lorry, and I wonder if he’s had a few more cocks.