gay

Author: admin

  • Hard Times

    Matty’s father died when he was four years old. He had been a nice man, and Matty had inherited his good looks. When Matty was sixteen years old, his mother remarried. Rex, his stepfather, was good-looking in a very thuggish way. He was a biker and worked for a business that remodelled and restored motorbikes. Subsequently, his hands were always somewhat soiled and greasy looking. Matty’s mom, Gloria, who was thirty-six years old, was very taken with the attention of Rex, who was six years younger than her. Shortly after their marriage, however, when Rex stamped his authority in the household, Gloria and Matty’s lives changed.

    Rex considered locked doors antisocial. Rex would, therefore, enter the spare bathroom, now considered as the ‘men’s’ bathroom bedroom, whenever he pleased. It was not an oppressive gesture by Rex, and it was part of Rex’s ‘au natural’ approach to life.

    Mostly, in the mornings, when Matty used the bathroom, he would have to endure Rex’s naked masculinity. It was almost as if Rex was continually taunting him. When Matty brushed his teeth, Rex would invariably have a piss, and then while Matty showered, Rex would chat with him while absentmindedly scratching his pubes and fiddling with his balls. Rex’s uncut knob was spectacular.

    A more alarming – or should it be said, exhilarating routine, in the household were Gloria and Rex’s raucous bedroom noises.

    Shortly after Rex and Gloria were married, Matty overheard a conversation his mother had while chatting with a friend on the phone. Gloria told her friend that Rex was a total stud in the bedroom and the best fuck she had ever had. 

    Their prolonged lovemaking consisted of loud groaning and grunting as Rex fucked the hell out of Gloria. This information almost drove Matty out of his mind with sexual frustration. Most times, when Rex and Gloria emerged from the bedroom for a cooling down beverage, Gloria looked like the cat that had just got the cream. After Gloria returned to their room, Rex would sit across from Matty in the lounge and eyeball him with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. It was almost as if Rex were saying, ‘Now that’s how you fuck a woman!’     

    Rex soon also began referring to Matty as ‘our daughter,’ when in conversation with Gloria, and when he and Matty were alone, he called Matty, “Baby girl.”

    Matty didn’t mind too much but naturally protested, which would result in a special treat in Matty’s life. Rex would then always grab hold of Matty in a headlock and gently noogie his knuckles over Matty’s head. Given Matty’s small body he was totally at Rex’s mercy in these situations, but of course, he loved inhaling the smell of Rex’s manly armpits while ‘fighting’ him off.

    Although Matty was sure that Rex knew he was gay, regrettably, Rex never took things any further. Matty just accepted the fact; that Rex was straight and loved teasing him.

    Six months later, another change occurred in their lives when the police arrived at their apartment one evening and took Rex away in handcuffs. It turned out that the motorcycle trade was not the only business Rex was involved in, and given the amount of cocaine that the police unearthed at the workshop, Rex got a seven-year jail term.

    After Max’s incarceration, Gloria instituted divorce proceedings because, as good a lover as Rex was, he had become a liability.

    When Matty commenced college a couple of months later, unbeknownst to Gloria, Matty started visiting Rex once a month.

    Later that year, Gloria met and married Stan. Stan was a sixty-year-old guy, and although he was nothing to talk about in the looks department, he was very well-off. Gloria was approaching forty, and her priorities had changed substantially. She was, therefore, happy with her newfound comfort. This also heralded a new era in Matty’s life after Gloria and Stan decided to retire to a far-off place. Because Gloria owned their apartment, she allowed Matty to continue living there while finishing his college degree.

    With his newfound emancipation, Matty tried to have a more active sex life. Most of the encounters, however, were rather dull because of Matty’s fixation with Rex, who had become an obsession in his life.

    Reclining on his mother’s large king-sized bed, he would often recall the sounds that he had formerly heard from this bedroom. Matty derived more stimulation from his periodic visits to the prison than he did while having real sex. He often wondered if Rex was sexually active in prison, hoping that a gay switch, of some or other kind, might have been unlocked during Rex’s incarceration. During his visits to Rex, Matty often wanted to ask Rex if he was having sex in prison but could simply never bring himself to do so.

    Worst of all, Rex just seemed to get hotter with every visit. With little else to do, Rex seriously worked-out while on the inside. As Matty lay pleasuring himself, he thought about the two famous motorbike emblems that Rex had tattooed on his upper arms and wondered if he had acquired more ink in prison. Although Matty had observed Rex’s hairline fast receding during his visits, the generous goatee Rex now sported more than made up for that. Above all, the look of warmth in Rex’s eyes during every visit made Matty yearn with longing after he arrived home.

    The weeks between visits were agony for Matty. With every passing month, his desire for Rex seemed to intensify, and the frustration of his inadequate sex life escalated. How he managed to keep his mind focussed enough to pass all his exams was a mystery to him. On and on, the hardship of his existence perpetuated until he finally graduated.

    Much as he enjoyed his first job, Matty’s lonely nights continued to get filled with longing.

    Once Matty got settled into his workplace, he negotiated a deal with his mother to buy her apartment, hoping that this new challenge would bring him some comfort. The thrill of his acquisition, however, was fleeting, and so the next twenty-four months dragged on. The only shiny beacon in his existence lasted only one hour every month when Matty could sit across from Rex to recharge the inadequacy of his life. The pain of knowing that Rex still had two years to go and the uncertainty of what lay ahead gave him sleepless nights.   

    During a visit to see Rex at this time, Rex informed him that he was going to be let out of prison early. He then asked Matty if he could move in with him until he got back on his feet. Totally beside himself, Matty naturally said yes.

    The guy that had bought the business Rex had formally worked for had offered him his old job, so at least that was one thing Rex didn’t have to worry over.

    After Matty’s visit that day, his mind went into a spin. Although this was is what he had dreamed about, it worried him that his expectations could lead to a broken heart. Matty always thought back to the six months that Rex had lived with them and reflected upon the fact that both he and Rex had been through hard times. While incarceration certainly trumped Matty’s hard times, he had also suffered because of his obsession with Rex. The moment of truth was finally upon him, and he worried that the fantasy he had based his hopes upon in the preceding five years could go up in smoke.

    Matty also pondered about what Rex would make of being delegated to the spare room that Matty had formerly occupied. Although Matty used the toilet and basin in his en-suite bathroom, he still showered in the ‘men’s’ bathroom. When his mother lived in the apartment she preferred having a bath installed in her bathroom, and thus far, Matty had not yet redone his mother’s old bathroom to suit his needs.

    Matty wondered how he would cope with the ladies, whom he presumed Rex would bring back to their apartment. He had mixed feelings about their future together.  Perplexed, he eventually drifted off to sleep that evening.

    Two weeks later, Matty took the Friday off from work to collect Rex from the penitentiary. He had prepared a potato salad with cold cuts for lunch, a favourite of Rex’s. When Rex walked toward his vehicle from the prison, Matty’s heart beat so fast that he thought he might have a heart attack.

    Upon arriving at the apartment, Matty was stunned when Rex walked straight into the main bedroom and put his rucksack on the bed. Confused as Matty was by this, he remained silent.

    “Are you hungry?” Matty asked, breaking the impasse.

    “Starving,” Rex replied. “I just couldn’t face one more prison breakfast this morning.”

    “Cool, then I’ll go and set the table for lunch,” Matty replied.

    “You don’t mind if I get more comfortable before I join you?” Rex asked.

    “No, go for it,” Matty answered.

    As Matty busied himself, Rex emerged a minute or so later wearing only a pair of shorts. Matty’s heart began to thump in his chest as he looked at the body he had missed for five years.

    “You’ve beefed up,” Matty said, smiling nervously.

    “Yeah, but not only did I lose my freedom, but it appears I also lost a lot of my hair,” Rex countered with a laugh.

    “Suits… you,” Matty replied stammering, before haltingly continuing, “I thought that you’d have… a few more tattoos.”

    “Nah, tattoos are for life, and even the best guys on the inside were shit,” Rex replied.

    As Matty continued his table setting and preparation, Rex again spoke. “I cannot tell you how much I have been looking forward to this.” Then after a pause, he continued, “I am also very excited about getting my old job back.”  Then extending both his clean hands for Matty’s perusal, Rex jokingly finalized, “I suppose you are going to have to get used to my grimy hands again once I start working.”

    “I liked your grimy hands,” Matty replied in a timid whisper.

    Shortly, they were seated at the table and enjoying their lunch. After half the meal was consumed, Rex put down his knife and fork and asked: “So, where’s your boyfriend?”

    “Don’t have one,” Matty bashfully replied.

    “Aren’t you seeing anyone, Matty?” Rex then asked, surprised.

    “No,” Matty again answered bashfully.

    “Whew, that’s a relief. I was afraid I might have competition,” Rex said with a warm smile.

    Matty didn’t want to read too much into that comment. With trepidation, he remembered Rex’s taunting and joking from years before.

    Next, Rex got a serious look on his face before saying, “You know, sometimes good comes from bad. Jail has changed me a great deal.”

    Matty didn’t reply, allowing Rex to finish what he had started. “Inside, I discovered a great deal about myself. I’m not as cocky as I use to be, and I have also learned another side to my character,” then after a long pause, he concluded, “Baby girl, I missed you, and you have no idea what your visits meant to me.” There was an unbelievable look of tenderness in Rex’s eyes.

    Matty’s heart began to pound in his chest. The words, ‘baby girl,’ were the ones he had been dreaming about for close to five years.  

    ‘Could this factually be happening?’  Matty thought to himself.

    Unable to restrain himself, Matty lifted his hands to his face and began to sob uncontrollably. Rex got up and pulled Matty into his arms. Embracing and caressing Matty’s trembling body, Rex kept intoning, “Let it out, baby girl, daddy is back home.”  

    Eventually, after lifting Matty, Rex carried him to the bedroom before placing Matty on the bed. Then, after removing his shorts, he climbed on top of Matty and began kissing him. Lifting his head later, Rex looked into Matty’s eyes and said, “Let’s write the next chapter of lives together, baby girl.”

    Matty had waited for this for years, and Rex did not disappoint him. Matty now fully understood why his mother had performed the way she had years before. Rex was dominant in a most gentle and leisurely manner. There was nothing rough about Rex’s technique.  and was only focussed on mutual stimulation. Matty’s body got constantly manipulated as the ever-escalating pleasure just kept building.

    Enjoyable as the sixty-nine position was, however, Rex’s cock proved to be rather taxing, and Matty was relieved when Rex once more altered their body positions to commence his anal entry.

    The initial discomfort soon gave way to the most awe-inspiring gratification that Matty had ever experienced. On and on, Rex drove his knob into Matty for the next thirty minutes before he finally unloaded.

    With his mouth at Matty’s ear afterward, Rex whispered, “Jesus, baby girl, you have no idea how I have longed to make love to you.”

    They made love all afternoon, and as Matty had hoped, their lovemaking far exceeded all his expectations. Not only was he in full agreement with his mother’s opinion about Rex’s sexual prowess, but he was finally able to experience and contribute first-hand to the magnificent grunting and groaning that had formerly frustrated him so much.     

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

  • Witches and Warlocks – A Halloween Story

    Ok folks, I know this is a fantasy but to anyone who has managed to seduce a straight guy while he is horny and drunk you will know that caution goes straight out of the window. I have been in Thailand enough to know that many straight guys don’t even know they are having ladyboys so this story isn’t as silly as it might initially sound. I can say I have had sex with straight guys whose horniness has overtaken their common sense when confronted with a willing mouth. 

    I have a broad circle of both gay and straight friends and though gay myself, I don’t like to think I look camp or effeminate in any way. OK I’m slim and only 5 feet 5 inches but that is where is ends. One of my best friends is a girl called Lucy, who is of Chinese Heritage. I am from Hong Kong. Both of us have have a similar frame and are frequently and mistakenly taken for twins.

    When I say she is one of my girlfriends I mean she is a girl who is a friend. When she mentioned a Halloween party at the house of one of the local rugby club players, I didn’t fancy going. All that unavailable testosterone was going to be too much to bear

    “The house is spectacular,” said Lucy, “It seems his dad is a wealthy banker and they are in the Maldives at the moment so he has the house to himself, hence the party.”

    “Aw Lucy, I won’t know anyone except you and I always feel a bit awkward in that situation.”

    “You’ll be in fancy dress so no one will know you anyway.” she continued. “It’s a Witches and Warlocks theme with a bit of Harry Potter thrown in so lots of flowing robes and green face paint! Did I mention the free bar?”

    Now I was becoming interested. We arranged to meet a week before it and sort out costumes but she said not to bother as she was working on both.

    Exactly seven days before the party and I was at Lucy’s house.

    “What do you think?” she said pointing to the two flowing robes hanging on the back of the door.

    “Where does Warlock come into this?” I questioned.

    “That’s just it,” she said, “We both go as wicked witches. I can do your make-up and we’ll have similar garb. That way you won’t need to be embarrassed as no one will know who you are. It’s not a couples party anyway, just a mix of people and as they are monied, I’m expecting some pretty flash costumes so that’s why I’ve made these.”

    I had to admit they were pretty good with a lot of fine detail and even a pointy witch’s hat on each.

    “Let’s try them on,” she said.

    By the time she had finished I was unrecognisable. The make up wasn’t even tawdry as our darker skin tones meant it didn’t have to be too thick so it actually looked good. For a witch I thought I looked great. I had never actually done any kind of drag before but was amazed at how good I looked. My gown was trimmed with a dark red and Lucy’s with dark green but both looked similar and as she and I were the same height and build, even she said we looked like sisters.

    I answered that with a growl in as low a voice as I could muster.

    “You still sound like a witch,” she giggled. “Well, are we on?”

    I suppose the second bottle of white wine helped me make the decision and the date was set. We would dress at hers and taxi to the venue which was a couple of miles away. This was a year ago and the party was on a Friday night.

    Roll forward to the night and we were set to go. Though we weren’t drug takers, Lucy had acquired some pills to relax me and her so we would feel more part of the group. They were definitely working by the time we left.

    At the door, Lucy introduced herself and me, as her female cousin Stephanie. Ok my name is Stephen so she was using poetic license. I slightly raised the pitch of my voice, getting into the game we were playing. One thing she was right about, the costumes were not ‘fancy dress hire tat,’ but some pretty awesome stuff. Thankfully ours easily looked the part. The girls were predominantly witches and most of the guys were in black trousers with coloured jackets, pointed hats and a lot of wands though a number had gone for full flowing J.K. Rowling style warlock. None had make up so I felt quite “hidden” behind my pale green image.

    There were some amazing hunks there and two immediately hit me. One was an actual player in the team. It seemed his name was Rory and he was about 6 feet tall, surprisingly slim for a rugby player and had eyes that melted me. He was dressed in a long flowing black warlock gown complete with a magic wand in hand. The other was in dark, tight trousers with a multi-coloured jacket and though a couple of inches shorter, his dark blonde hair and slightly heavier build still made him boyishly good looking. He was wearing black shorts, shoes and socks plus some kind of loose flowing, multi-coloured top. I wasn’t sure what kind of Warlock he was but boy was he gorgeous.

    Lucy was in full flow and speaking to everyone and anyone but, like the good friend she was, kept checking I was OK. I have to admit that instead of making people aware who I actually was, I was enjoying being Lucy’s cousin and the anonymity it gave me. As I drank more, I camped things up a bit more. I assume the pills were helping the act and I seemed popular.

    Lucy had scored with the shorter guy in the black shorts, the lucky sod. They were deep in conversation so I just kept mingling and tried to avoid too many prying questions about my love or work life. The less I said the less I would be lying. I was even asked to dance a couple of times and took to the floor quite happily with some of the guys. After about two hours I noticed Lucy standing on her own in a corner so I popped over to see her. It was immediately obvious she was pretty well pissed.

    “Been chatting and drinking with Ryan,” she slurred. “I think he wants his leg over as he keeps trying to get me into one of the rooms but I told him I wasn’t that type of girl.”

    “Where is he now?” I asked.

    “He went to get drinks but I saw him chatting to that tall warlock guy over there.”

    I couldn’t see either of them.

    “Are you OK?” I asked.

    “Bit drunk,” she said. I could do with a wee rest then I’ll be party ready again.”

    I took her through the house and up a flight of stairs. We found a quiet room and I took her inside and suggested she lie down for an hour and I would come back and get her. She was asleep before I left the room. I went back down ready to start partying again when Ryan saw me and came towards me. I assumed from the recognition in his face that he realised I was Lucy’s friend and was about to ask me where she was but I soon realised that in his drunk state, he thought I was her.

    “Hello gorgeous, here’s your drink,” he said thrusting a wine in my hand. “Where were we?”

    I found it quite funny so played along pretending to be a lot more drunk than I was. We made some small talk and I half expected him to twig I wasn’t Lucy but he just kept chatting. Soon the conversation turned back to his needs.

    “If you don’t want to actually shag, then how about a blow job. I’m horny as fuck and I bet those cute little lips can suck like a limpet.”

    I genuinely backed off slightly.

    “Look, no one will know. All we do is go back to that little room along there, lock the door, and you can give me a quick blow and I’ll shut up. I’m just so horny. Fucking Rory over there suggested I take a fucking Viagra and now I’m as stiff as a pole.”

    Rory, of course was the tall warlock I had drooled over earlier.

    “Feel it,” he said, taking my spare hand and pressing it against his shorts front.

    It felt amazing and thick and hard as steel rod. The tablet I had taken, whilst not Viagra, was certainly increasing, my libido and dropping my common sense.

    “OK, just a quickie,” I whispered.

    My heart was thumping. This guy was dead straight, cute as hell, and this would be a chance in a million.

    No one saw us and I assume he knew the house owner as we slipped into a small single bedroom and he was able to close the door. The light was dim from the outside floodlighting but enough to see what I wanted but not enough for him to get too suspicious. As I turned the key, he was already rubbing his cock up against my back. He lifted my dress and was rubbing against my thigh. I hadn’t put any underwear on as the dress was long and I didn’t see the point so he quickly cottoned on to this and was soon rubbing his cock between my buttocks. My fear was he would head further round to find my lack of vagina and that would be a game changer.

    I turned and kissed him. Thankfully much of my make-up had come off and the rest was dry on my face. I then dropped down and pulled down his shorts. He moaned. I pulled down his tight hipsters and a sizeable piece of meat slapped me in the face. I engulfed it, tasting the salty pre-cum oozing from the head. This guy definitely was in heat.

    “Oh fuck, that’s awesome. Oh suck me baby, your tongue is just amazing. Let me fuck you please, please!”

    I refused using the excuse I didn’t have protection and was near to my time of month.

    “You have such a beautiful butt, can I stroke it?”

    I stood up to kiss him and his hands gathered up the fabric until he again reached my buttocks. He then headed towards the front and I stopped him.

    “Oh sorry, of course,” he said and returned to my bum.

    He started to caress and then slowly penetrate my hole with his finger. The action got me quite excited but I was terrified he would somehow bump against my stiff cock which was thankfully pushed to one side caught in the fabric of the dress. I wasn’t big down there but even five inches is hard to hide when it shouldn’t be there. His drunkenness was certainly clouding his head and he was so set on getting something out of his sexual encounter it seemed to mar his judgement.

    “Can I fuck your arse then?” he suddenly said.

    “You would never get that thing in my arse,” I replied.

    “Wait a minute,” he said and disappeared into what I now realised was an en-suite bathroom.

    He returned with a tube of cream of some sorts.

    “This’ll do it for me,” he said triumphantly.

    He turned me round and made me bend over the bed end, lifting my dress up. I discreetly lifted my cock and balls upwards as he did it. Next I felt the cold cream rubbing into my hole and working it’s way around. It was at times like these I was glad a horny young gay man always cleaned himself well when going out. His fingers were definitely doing their work and now it was me who was groaning.

    When his cock started it’s entry it hurt like fuck. It was only about six inches long but it was thicker than many I had seen before. I felt his foreskin slide back and it almost popped inside me. He started to fuck while holding my hips through the fabric of my dress. I was thankful the costume was so bulky.

    “Aw fuck that is awesome. You’re so tight. Is this your first time in the arse?”

    I lied in the affirmative and that really got him going. He hammered my hole with a vengeance and I realised I was going to be filled with hot cum unless I stopped him.

    “What about the blow job?” I asked.

    “Oh yes please,” he begged.

    “Quick go and wash that cream off and I’ll be on my knees waiting when you get back.”

    He ran to the bathroom and washed quickly before shuffling back with his shorts at his knees to stand before me. This time I took his ample balls in one hand and his cock in the other and gave him a “Stephen special!” One thing I was good at, was sucking cock and I swallowed him all the way to the back of my throat before releasing him, rolling my tongue under his foreskin, sticking it in the hole at the tip of his cock, and then plunging him back in my mouth. I then concentrated on the head. It’s hardness was exciting and his whimpers above me were driving me onwards.

    “Baby I’m going to cum. I’m going to fill your sweet mouth with my cum so brace yourself,” he said.

    He wasn’t lying. Normally you feel a little warm liquid and then that salty sweetness and you know your partner has cum but this guy offloaded so much I thought at first he was pissing. The spurts hit the back of my throat and I swallowed but it just kept on cumming and with each of around nine spurts I could feel the jet of hot liquid hit my throat.

    “Oh fuck, that was awesome. You are one hell of a cocksucker. I wish I could have fucked you to orgasm,” he said.

    “Another time maybe,” I said huskily, mainly because my poor throat was coated in thick spunk.

    “Can Rory fuck you?” he suddenly asked.

    “Rory?” I queried.

    “My tall mate took the same pill I did and he’s in just as bad a state. Say you’ll let him.”

    “OK,” I said. My cock now so rigid I thought it would burst.

    “You wait here and I’ll send him in,” he said.

    My thoughts drifted thinking that the two guys I had really fancied at a straight party were fucking me. I had to be careful though as I had no idea if Rory was as drunk as his pal. I needn’t have worried though. I heard a thump and could see the outline of a tall warlock stumbling through the door. He locked it and staggered towards me.

    “Christ Ryan wasn’t lying, you are a horny bitch aren’t you? Here suck my cock first.”

    I turned and his beautifully long uncut cock was presented to me. The layers of fabric from his long gown didn’t make access easy but I quickly pulled it back and took his big hairy balls in my hand, trying to get the head of his seven inches in my mouth. Thinner than Ryan’s but leaking as much I took the whole organ down my throat and started to give him my special treatment. It was easily as well received as the one his friend received.

    “Fuck you are awesome. Oh yes, just like that! Oh my God the head is so sensitive and you have me near to cumming already! Can I fuck you?”

    I stood and silently lay over the bed, raising my dress up and ensuring I tucked my cock and balls out of reach. My hole was still open and lubricated. Rory was staggering a bit but finally got the head inside then rammed it up my hole, taking my breath away. There was no romance or delicacy in his sex technique but then, I was happy having my hole trashed by the wonderful straight hunk.

    “Christ honey, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he yelled and pumped his hot, stream of cum in my hole.”

    His bedside manner left little to be desired as he stood up, dropped his gown back down and stumbled back out the door with just a cursory “thanks” as he left. I stood up, relocked the door, lay back on the bed and with my left finger sliding inside my sloppy hole, I wanked myself to an explosive ejaculation. My cum flew in all directions and in the semi-dark, there was little chance of me mopping it up. I adjusted myself and with as much decorum as I could muster, slipped back into the main room and upstairs to check in on Lucy. She had been there for almost two hours.

    Thankfully she was sleeping soundly and was alone. It took a moment but I suggested we get a taxi and leave. She groggily agreed and I called one from my mobile and we waited before heading downstairs at the allotted time.

    Both Rory and Ryan were across the room as we both headed to the door. I saw them look at Lucy and then at me. I’m not sure if they realised the slightly different dress colouring but just as we saw the taxi and headed out the door, Lucy shouted a goodbye.

    In my deepest voice I called back, “Thanks boys, I had a great night!”

    The slightly puzzled look on their faces said a lot, as we headed home.

    “Happy Halloween,” I said to Lucy, but she was asleep.

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

  • When in Rome

    This is my second visit to Rome. What a city! I enjoy the sights, the people, the cuisine, the shopping, almost everything. I can’t claim that so far I have been lucky sexually. I have made it a point not to seek sex partners although whether Italian or tourist, there are lots of possibilities. I just feel that I want to relax and enjoy Italy. If something does come up, I wouldn’t say no, but I will not actively seek it.

    I am sitting at a small table in one of those cute sidewalk cafes, sipping on my espresso, watching people passing by. I notice two guys that are quite good-looking, standing a few meters away, deep into conversation. What strikes me most is the close physical proximity they maintain towards each other. Normally, guys, even close friends, would not stand so close to each other out in the open. These guys almost touch bodies as they talk and gesture. I also notice that they both glance towards where I am sitting every now and then. I don’t give this much thought, but I enjoy watching them, two cute young guys on the street in Rome.

    A few minutes later, the two guys seem to decide on something and start moving towards where I am sitting. They look Spanish rather than Italian. Italian guys are usually more into fashion and stuff, but these guys are in jeans and t-shirts. I can’t help but notice how hot they look. They are both of similar height and build, maybe 180-185 cms tall (around 5’ 9), slim, and fit. I place them in their early twenties. One of them has a light beard. As they approach, I realize that they are planning to address me.

    “Good day,” the darker guy with the light beard says in Italian.

    I smile. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” I say apologetically. “English?”

    “Oh, si, si English, perfetto,” he smiles back, showing white teeth. “I speak the English and Rico my friend he speak the English also.”

    “Perfetto,” I repeat, still smiling, wondering where this is going.

    “Rico my friend,” the guy says placing an arm around Rico’s waist, “wonder if maybe you got a cigarette for us?” They both glance at the packet of Winstons I have on the table.

    “Oh,” so they want to bum a cigarette. I know that tobacco is quite expensive in Europe where a pack of Winstons might go for 8 or 9 euros. I always buy mine from the duty free shop.

    “Sure,” I say as I pick up the packet of cigarettes and hand it to the guy.

    He opens the flap and takes one cigarette out, handing it to Rico and placing the packet back on the table.

    “You don’t smoke?” I inquire.

    “Si, yes, I smoke,” he says. “But not nice to say for two cigarettes, no?”

    “No, I mean yes, I mean it’s ok, buddy. You can have one, too.”

    He smiles and takes another cigarette from the packet. “No baddy,” he says as he fishes a lighter out of his tight jeans pocket, outlining a nice packet around his crotch that I couldn’t ignore. “My name Alfredo, not baddy.”

    I laugh as I realize that when I called him buddy he thought I was using his name. “Nice to meet you Alfredo, and you too, Nico,” I address the other boy who has already lit up and inhales deeply. “Say, boys, would you like to join me for coffee?” I offer. The two boys look so enticing that I want to prolong the meeting with them and enjoy their hot looks, now that I have supplied them with the tobacco.

    They both agree eagerly and sit around the table with me. I light up a cigarette also and wonder whether those two are lovers or not. They certainly behave very close and they can’t be related since I don’t notice any likeness between them.

    “So, are you Italian?” I inquire to start the conversation.

    “Me,” Alfredo says, “si, Italiano, but Nico, no, is Espanol from Barcelona.”

    “That’s nice,” I smile as I remember one of my trips to Barcelona where I watched the gay parade and had a couple of interesting sexual meets (one of which was my first glory-hole experience). “I have been to Barcelona. A very nice city.”

    “And, you from?” Alfredo asks.

    “Oh, so sorry,” I realize that I haven’t introduced myself. “I’m Eddie and I now live in Istanbul. Turkey?”

    “Yes,” Nico speaks for the first time. His voice is thin and high, and I decide that the boys are gay just from Nico’s tone. “Barcelona nice. Nice restos. We have paella there. You like paella?”

    I hate paella! I almost threw up when I had it in Barcelona. It tasted too fishy for me. “Well,” I try to hedge, seeing how proud Nico was of this national dish. “Paella is very interesting, but I am not much of a sea food person.”

    “Oh, I make fantastic paella, multo fantastic, no fish, if you no like fish.”

    I can’t make out some of what he says and my replication of the conversation in languages other than English here will sound weird. But the accent and the foreignness of the language and the place and the two hot guys stir my emotions, hence my desire, building to lust.

    “If no fish,” I smile, “then I love paella.” I wonder what other than fish there can be inside the rice!

    “Nico, he my friend,” Alfredo places his hand on his friend’s arm, “is best cook. Nico is very best.” I notice the squeeze of Alfredo’s hand on Nico’s arm and the look of love on Nico’s face as he takes his friend’s compliment. Yes, they are lovers. Definitely.

    But what has this got to do with me? The coffee arrives and we sip on the hot strong liquid. There is another round of cigarettes. We try to keep the conversation going, and I learn that Alfredo and Nico are living together in a small apartment in Rome and that they go to college, both majoring in fashion design.

    “But the way you dress,” I make a comment. “I would have expected something more fashionable than jeans and t-shirts.”

    Both boys laugh. “We no advertise,” Alfredo tries to explain. “But we like how you dress. You in fashion too?”

    “No,” I laugh. But it is true. I tend to be a smart dresser. My body helps, of course, but I usually buy tasteful clothes that fit well, not too tight, but tight enough to enhance my slim figure. I wear jeans-pants, tight at the crotch, making it look appealing to whoever might be interested. “You think I’m well-dressed, then?”

    The two boys glance at each other. “Stand, please?” Alfredo says.

    Shit! They want me to model right there in the sidewalk café in front of all the people, in the middle of Rome, Italy! Embarrassedly, I stand up. They look at me appreciatively, I hope, as I watch their faces closely.

    “Alfredo,” Nico says in a high-pitched voice. “You think maybe we can make Eddy nice cloth? He dress nice but we make the nicer, no?”

    Alfredo is gazing at my crotch. Without removing his eyes he nods. “Eddy can dress very nice. We make you dress very nice, Eddy,” He finally looks up at me. I return to my seat and think: they may be two hustlers, trying to rip me off by selling me some clothing or something. But they are too cute to ignore. Besides, what the fuck, I am a grown young man and I can take care of myself if things don’t go the way I want them to go. There are already stirrings in my groin.

    “So you can dress me nicely, Alfredo and Nico, huh? What do you suggest?”

    “First,” Nico seems very excited now, “we must to take measures, si?”

    “Then,” Alfredo added, also growing excited about the idea, “find nice what-you-call-it … stuff … cloths, materials, ok?”

    “Ok,” I smile agreeably. I love the way they have warmed up to the idea. This will be a first for me: two hot young fashion designers dressing me up.

    “Can you come with us to apartment? We can do all that. It not far. Only 5 minute of walk, ok?”

    So we walk to the apartment, the two boys chattering in their beautiful sing-song Italian, or perhaps Spanish. I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, except that they sounded like they were singing a happy song.

    The apartment is small. Actually, it’s just one fairly-large room with a kitchen area and what looks like a sofa-bed. Hmmm. Yes, my first thoughts about those guys as a couple are being confirmed. There are all kinds of stuff strewn around the place: different pieces of material, paraphernalia of designers, and such. The place, however, is homey and clean.

    Nico immediately starts taking measurements. I stand in the middle of the room as he uses a measuring tape to record the size of the shoulders, arms, waist, height, etc. I feel the pressure of his hand as he places the measuring tape under my balls and measures the in-seams. My dick stirs. Nico takes his time, and I feel that he is taking much longer than necessary, his hand practically fondling my balls. As he kneels in front of me, my desire makes me reach out and touch his head, fondling his hair. He looks up at me and smiles, pressing a little more at the base of my balls.

    “No finish, Nico?” Alfredo walks over. I am almost sure that he has noticed Nico’s interest in my crotch and he glares at my hand fondling Nico’s hair. Nico sighs and stands up.

    “Si, finish, bambino,” Nico says. Alfredo pulls Nico close by the waist and plants a kiss on his lips. I take this as a direct message to me: Hands off, buster; this is my property. Alfredo is setting territorial rights or something, which from what has happened so far are going to be broken.

    Nico and Alfredo start discussing what I assume the kind of clothing they are going to choose for me, all in incomprehensible Italian/Spanish. I gather a couple of words here and there—bellissimo, mama mia— but I can’t make out the actual details. Finally, the two boys turn to me.

    “You must to un-cloth,” Alfredo tells me.

    “Huh?” I ask bewildered.

    “Un-cloth, you know, take your cloth away. We must to dress you.”

    “Oh, I get it. You mean undress.”

    “Si, undress, un-cloth.”

    I laugh and start to take off my shirt. “What do you want me to take off? Pants too?”

    “Si, pants too.”

    Nico is running his tongue along his lower lip. Alfredo is watching me as I take off my shirt, revealing my patch of hair in the middle of my chest. I cannot claim that I have a chiseled chocolate tablet for a chest, but my abs are quite well-formed, and the hair trails down my flat belly to my navel.

    “Nice body,” Nico hisses.

    Alfredo glares at his friend with half a frown then turns back to me. “No difficult dress you, Eddie,” he says. “You have nice body as Nico say.” He approaches and runs his hand lightly across my chest and belly. Nico follows and reaches out for my chest also, but Alfredo pulls Nico’s hand away, gently but forcefully. Nico pouts. Inwardly, I smile and I start getting an erection: nothing full-blown yet, but a decided elongation that starts to bulge my pants crotch.

    “I say maybe size 14? 14 and a half?” Alfredo says “half” pronouncing the “l” which I think is cute. At this point everything about these guys sounds and looks cute to me. My anticipation is growing. Will the situation evolve to any kind of sex? Alfredo seems to be jealous, but Nico is definitely interested. Although I prefer the manlier Alfredo, Nico will do as well. I will take his effeminate behavior along with Alfredo’s hunkish physique. I am sure that Alfredo is the “top” in their relationship.

    “Now pants?” Alfredo says, stepping back a few steps.

    As I unbuckle my belt, I decide on something.

    “Alfredo,” I ask, pulling my pants down, revealing my boxer briefs, now bulging with my semi-erection, “You and Nico? Are you gay?”

    Both boys inhale. Shit! Maybe I shouldn’t have been so direct. You blew it, Ed!

    After what seemed like a long moment of embarrassment, Alfredo sighs and says, “Si, yes, Nico is my amor, how you say, lover.”

    Nico chimes in, gazing at my bulge, “And Alfredo is my bambino.” If the two guys are lovers, why are they showing so much interest in me? In my bulge in particular?

    Without any hesitation, looking me straight in the eyes, Alfredo moves one step closer and says, “And you, Eddie, you gay?”

    “He look gay, Alfredo,” Nico says in his high-pitched voice. I definitely don’t look or act in an effeminate way like Nico, but the kid has some kind of a gay-radar or something.

    Alfredo doesn’t move, waiting for my answer, gazing into my eyes.

    “Yes, Alfredo, I am gay, and I like you and Nico very much.”

    I say this as I stand right there, facing them, bare torso, with my dick stretching the cotton fabric of my underwear. The two boys glance at each other, as if what appeared to me to be a confirmation of what they have been arguing about earlier.

    “We, Nico and me, discuss you before. Nico say yes. I say no way. You no look gay. Nico win.”

    “Win?” I ask. “You were betting on me being gay?”

    “In Italia, amigo, we bet on everything. Si, we bet. Nico win.”

    Nico is smirking and running his hand up and down his chest over his nylon-looking t-shirt.

    “So, how much did Nico win? What was the bet?” I wanted to know how many euros I was worth!

    “If Nico win, he suck you. If I win, Nico fuck me.”

    Wow! Jesus H. Christ! This is certainly not what I have expected. I am going to get a blow job. Also, since Alfredo doesn’t seem to allow Nico to fuck him usually, it sounds to me a win-win situation for Nico!

    The boys wait for my reaction anxiously. Nico is almost dancing on his feet. Slowly, I peel down my boxer briefs and my 20-centimeter (8 inches) cut cock springs out and up at an angle, now fully erect and throbbing. “Nico, come and get your prize.”

    Within seconds, Nico is on his knees in front of me, licking his way up my hairy balls to the underside of my exposed cock shaft, engulfing the mushroom head with his lips. Alfredo is still standing where he is, rubbing his crotch and gazing at me, not looking at Nico slobbering on my rod.

    Smiling at Alfredo, I wink and nod my head in invitation. I want Alfredo. Nico can suck my dick to his content. But I want Alfredo. Alfredo approaches, and I pull him to me and plant a deep kiss on his lips. He immediately responds by opening his mouth and extending out his tongue probing between my lips into my mouth. As Nico tries to swallow the shaft with loud sounds of gagging and slobbering, Alfredo and I tongue kiss with passion. Afredo has glued his body onto my side and his erection rubs on my bare hip with intensity and lustful heat.

    The afternoon is spent with the three of us on the sofa bed, naked and entwined.

    We started with Alfredo spreading Nico’s ass cheeks, rimming his hole, and fucking him fiercely as Nico sucked on my cock. Alfredo is hung, with a dick almost as long as mine but not as thick, and uncut. So is Nico’s, uncut that is, but smaller and even thinner than both of ours. Alfredo’s body is lean and hairy. But he shaves his body hair. Nico is naturally smooth with a deliciously fuzzy butt.

    We alternate, Alfredo and me. As I drive into Nico’s body, his ass already lubed by Alfredo’s load which he has dumped into his friend’s ass, Alfredo pushes his semi-erect, still dripping cock down Nico’s throat, who doesn’t hesitate in gobbling and licking and swallowing what has remained of his lover’s juice. He moans and grunts in response to my pounding. I cum heavily. I can’t count the squirts which I shoot deep into Nico’s ass, but I don’t seem to stop cumming. Nico moans. Alfredo is still rubbing his glistening dick on Nico’s face and lips.

    It takes us perhaps 10-15 minutes and a couple of cigarettes when Nico offers me his ass again. I don’t hesitate; I take him sideways, with one of his legs raised, but I shudder all over when I feel Alfredo’s body pressing on my back, his dick hard and throbbing between my ass cheeks. Alfredo humps me as I fuck his lover. I feel his wet finger probing for my hole. Alfredo is planning on fucking me.

    Sure enough, the knob of his cock is prodding my rim hole as it opens and shuts with my fucking Nico. When he slides into me, the pain is overcome by pleasure. My cock thickens and stretches Nico, plowing deeper and harder, but Alfredo’s cock proves longer than I have expected. He pushes into me and keeps going, and it feels as if he is entering my bowels. He starts fucking me and I feel the vibrations resounding throughout my whole body. I pound into Nico, who is screaming for more. I hear all kinds of “madre mio” and “fuck fuck you fuck si more multo fuck por favore fuck more” and other sorts of babbling that I don’t understand. I cum hard for the second time. My rim muscle stretches and squeezes on Alfredo, milking him, as I squirt inside Nico. Alfredo, in response to my squeezing, starts to squirt inside me as I release my final drops of juice. He grips my butt cheeks, digging his finger nails into my flesh. He moans loudly as he shoots, and I squeeze tighter on his pulsating cock to intensify his pleasure, feeling the warm juice hitting the inside my ass.

    We finally separate and lie next to each other, waiting for our breathing to settle and our heart beats to get back to normal. I am still hard. My cock refuses to answer to nature’s demand for a rest between ejaculations. So is Nico’s little uncut dick, plastered to his stomach and quivering with the aftermath of the fucking I have given his ass. Alfredo bends over us from the other side and alternates sucking me and Nico. His hand is already fingering Nico’s hole, lubricated by my cum. When Nico shoots inside Alfredo’s mouth, he sounds like a little mouse squeaking as it is caught in a trap. I force myself not to laugh and busy myself with turning around behind Alfredo, whose ass is totally bare and exposed and hairy.

    Alfredo doesn’t move away when I rub my dick into his crack, preparing his hole for penetration. He keeps sucking on Nico’s cock and licking his balls. When I feel he is ready, I align my cock at his hole and enter him. He grunts with the invasion but pushes back onto me. I drive in all the way and immediately start the fucking. Nico disentangles himself and slides down under Alfredo, taking his cock in his mouth, blowing him, totally forgetting about the bet he has won, that he would be fucking Alfredo.

    Needless to say, our explosions are loud and intense. As I lay on my back, settling, my cock finally deciding to start to go limp, I reflect on what has just happened. Not much to reflect. I have just got laid with a beautiful couple, an Italio-Spanish mixture, plowing ass and getting my ass plowed.

    Rome is such a lovely town!

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

  • Renting a tuxedo

    My Sophomore year of college I pledged a very popular fraternity at a large university in Tennessee. I had always experienced friendships with guys through sports, clubs and close cousins growing up. However, when I went off to college and lived in a dorm in the mid 70s it was awesome to see men everyday in all shapes and sizes in the commons area, in the hallway and the large community showers-bathrooms. The showers in high school gymnasiums were not as large as the open showers in my dorm. Some guys were shy and when they would turn around would cup their junk, however, many of the guys on my floor were like me, a country boy who grew up skinny dipping and walking around in the locker room free and proud.

    Three of my friends on my floor pledged the same fraternity I did. We were tight and immediately developed a close bond. One guy drove a 1976 Cameo, Another one drove an older international Scout and I drove a 1969 pickup truck.

    The week after Valentines Day our fraternity was hosting a winter formal as a fundraiser for a children’s wing of a local hospital. We had organized a silent auction of items to be available. My pledge brothers and I were to man the tables the night of the auction. We took it upon ourselves to rent tuxedos for the event. We wanted to make a good impression on your fraternity brothers, representing our pledge class in a positive way. My pledge brothers went together to get fitted for their tuxedos but I had a late afternoon class so I told them I’d meet them at 6 o’clock that afternoon. As I pulled up in the strip mall my pledge brothers were making their deposits at the counter and told me they would meet me at our hang out spot and I could buy a pitcher of beer for being late. As they were leaving one of my buddies asked me, “do you hang to the left or to the right?” I had no clue as to what he was talking about. The gentleman at the counter told me I could walk on back to the area that had a platform and three mirrors in the center of the room that had doors for fitting rooms on either side. I had only worn a tuxedo once before this occasion and That was for my sisters wedding when I was in high school. Four years later and in my post football body days my size was definitely different. I’m 6’3”. 240lbs. 42 waist and thick thighs due to leg squats, playing offensive and defensive line and years of work of lifting bails of hay on the farm.

    The gentleman was very attentive. Handsome, mid forties, nice trousers, long sleeved shirt with cuff links and a fitted vest. He started by taking general measurements. He asked me to remove my sweater to get a more accurate measurement of my chest. The metal tip of the measuring tape brushed over my right nipple and it was a phenomenal sensation. The guy looked and continued to talk but he left the tape and his fingers near my nipple. He then proceeded to measure my waist. He asked me to remove my belt and commitments were made about my thick bulky belt buckle. Asked if that was comfortable when I was in a seated position, etc…after he got my waist measurements he asked me if I’d remove my jeans. I though nothing of it. I did ask requested. I was wearing a powder blue pair of low rise jockey briefs the style Jim Palmer the baseball player would pose it. Now, I’m a big boy…7.5 inches hard, thick piece of dick and I filled out the pouch of those jockey briefs nicely. He measured around my hips, bubble butt and his face was eye level to my pecker. He made the statement…I think we are going to have a problem. I looked down and asked, what kind of problem. He went on to explain I’d need to get a trouser that was adjustable in the waist to accommodate my thick thighs and nice ass, (those were his words about my ass). His hand lingered on my ass and upper thigh and asked if I had trouble buying regular pants, trousers in the store. We chatted about that as he then started to measure my inseam. He moved the tape up high and tight into my crotch. He committed how he liked my briefs and asked if I would be wearing that style under my tux trousers the night of my formal event. I replied I guess so. He cupped my crotch and said it would make a significant difference if I didn’t have my package nice and tight in a pair of briefs that would fit well under my trousers. He asked me if he could show me something. I said sure….he got up from the kneeling position and went into the back of the store. When he returned he had a black pair of briefs in his hands. He said he wanted me to try them on. God they felt like women’s panties. A silky smooth pair that cupped my balls perfectly. He reached in the front and tucked my cock under. I had never adjusted myself tucked under before but it felt good. He rubbed the crotch and said I make them look good and then a comment I’ll never forget. He said it was as if the briefs were wearing me instead of my wearing them. He gingerly kept rubbing my crotch. Hell, I didn‘t need any further notice. I took his tape measure and put it around his neck and pulled him into my crotch with one forceful pull. The look in his eyes was exciting. I rubbed my crotch all up and down his face. I told him to get those black briefs wet mouthing the outline of my dick. He said he needed to go lock the front door. I grabbed the tape measure tighter and told him to stay put. He was frozen. That’s when I took control. I pulled down the briefs just under my nuts and started fucking his face. My tick dick grew in his throat. I was using his warm mouth like a daddy slut I knew he was. He had tears rolling down his checks but he never gagged. He took every inch of my dick. He tapped my thick thighs and I pulled out. He turned me around and started tongue fucking my hole. Damn…he was such a hungry slut. He stopped eating my ass and begged me to let him lock the door and put up the closed sign. I bend over and kissed him. I told him he had 5 minutes to lock up and get back on my cock. He was an eager man slut. When he returned we went into the back office where their was a sofa. I sat on the sofa and he straddled my face as I ate his hole. He was definitely going to get fucked. He was a beautiful man. Build like a swimmer or a runner. I picked him up and he sat down on my cock raw. He bounced up and down. I nibbled on his neck and bit his nipples. He was very vocal. Begging for me to cum. I was definitely going to make this last. I pulled him off of me and we got in 69 on the sofa. His smaller body on top of mine. His balls and cock all fit perfectly in my mouth. I reached my hand up and smacked his ass. Each swat he would hum in grunts of pain and that vibration on my dick felt good. We enjoyed our hot, hungry man sex until he told me he had to finish up and get home. He fucked his hole and shot my load deep in his ass. Afterwards I ate him out and kissed him. He reached down to jack off and I grabbed his hand. I looked him dead in the eye and said…no, you can not cum tonight. Be begged me. I slapped his ass harder. I told him I’d stop by tomorrow afternoon around 6 o’clock and if I felt like it I might allow him to cum. Then I finger his hole and he licked my fingers clean of my cum. We got dressed and I told him I would be back tomorrow. This arrangement continued the remainder of the spring semester. I fucked his face and ass every Tuesday afternoon until one night we got caught by his uncle who was the owner of the store. I fucked him as well and the three of us had amazing man sex in 1976-1978 until I graduated and moved to Memphis to pharmacy school.

  • Soldier, Spy

    Occupied

    July–August, 1776, Staten Island and Harlem

    July 7th, 1776, found Thomas Hadley standing at the top of the front steps, in front of the double front door of his Staten Island estate home. He was watching the approach of the retinue, riding on horseback, of the captain of the British sixty-gun warship, HMS Yarmouth, Owen Sheffeld, along the tree-lined avenue. Timothy Grady stood a step below him on the right of the two lines of servants descending the semicircular brick stairs to the graveled forecourt. Perhaps the slight incline of his head toward Timothy was the cause, but whatever prompted it, Captain Sheffeld’s eyes went to the young man as he approached astride his horse, his eyes narrowed, and a small, perhaps a bit cruel, smile formed on his lips. Sheffeld was an under-height, spare, almost austere man in his forties, with a ramrod-straight back and an icy stare from his gray eyes that took in everything and assessed all they saw in terms of advantage that could go to the military man.

    He made particular note of well-formed young men—men like Timothy Grady, who, when eyed by Sheffeld, signaled shared interest.

    When he saw that he was being noticed, Timothy gave a little smile, batted his long eyelashes, and lowered his eyes in submission. Just as the invitation to a hunt, a stag dinner, and an overnight from Hadley to Sheffeld had been written in a code that two men of similar preferences fully understood what was being offered, the looks that went between Hadley and Sheffeld and then between Sheffeld and Timothy Grady, even before Sheffeld had stepped down from his horse, laid out and sealed a deal. Sheffeld had been invited to Hadley’s Staten Island estate to hunt more than deer and pheasants. He had signaled that he was satisfied with the prey.

    If Hadley was trying to claim loyalty to the occupying British forces and bidding to have his holdings on Staten Island and, eventually in Manhattan itself, preserved under British occupation, he had found and was playing a valuable negotiation chip. Sheffeld wasn’t the senior British officer in the area, but he was the senior British officer with a taste for young men.

    Over the past year, the augmentation of the British fleet at the mouth of New York harbor had slowly, almost imperceptibly, increased, adding to the two main warships present, the HMS Asia and HMS Yarmouth. Earlier that spring, the British had finally given up on any attempt to expand into the mainland from the besieged city of Boston, and, on March 17th, the British fleet had abandoned Boston and fled to British-held territory at Halifax, Nova Scotia. Not all of the ships went that far, though. Several, transporting large contingents of British and Hessian mercenary soldiers, had gathered off New York. On June 30th, they landed on New York’s Staten Island, with 22,000 men, and occupied the island without opposition.

    Earlier that winter the Tory sympathizer, Thomas Hadley, had withdrawn from Manhattan where he had increasingly been put under pressure for his political leanings by the colonialists, to his Staten Island estate. Immediately upon the British landing on Staten Island, Hadley had sent a letter setting forth his British sympathies to the captain of the HMS Yarmouth, Owen Sheffeld, and had invited the captain to a “men’s pleasure” hunt day—and night—at his island estate. The merchant had managed to find out that Sheffeld shared his pleasure in men and had made as clear as he could within the code known by such men what sort of enjoyment Sheffeld could receive in an overnight visit to Hadley’s estate—that the night hunt could be as invigorating and satisfying as the day hunt.

    Sheffeld accepted the invitation by return messenger.

    Dinner in the Hadley estate dining room was rife with testosterone, an all-male affair, Hadley being long widowed and Sheffeld’s wife safely left behind in England. They were fresh from the hunt for deer and pheasants on the estate, and though the roasted carcasses they were tearing apart in their shirt sleeves with their bare hands between chugs of ale from mugs that sometimes didn’t make it to their mouths were not the same animals they had bagged that day, they were reminded enough of the hunt to make their bloodlust boil.

    The hunt itself had been lustful. Sheffeld, a devotee of hunt weekends when at home in England, had been ship bound off the rebellious American colonies for over a year and was anxious to make up for lost hunting pleasure when he, Hadley, Timothy, and Sheffeld’s attendants rode into the forest lands of Hadley’s extensive Staten Island estate. While Sheffeld’s attendants flush out the abundant game, Sheffeld slaughtered enough deer and pheasants that, when they were sent back with him to the HMS Yarmouth the next day, they fed the sailors and small contingent of soldiers on the ship for several days. Although Hadley and Timothy did some shooting, their main concern was that Sheffeld was having his full enjoyment of the hunt, and they didn’t bring down much to contribute to the almost obscene carnage in the forest.

    Deer and pheasants weren’t the only game Sheffeld was working on bringing to ground—and in this he had help from both Hadley and Timothy. At Hadley’s whispered question and Sheffeld enthusiastic response, the Tory merchant made sure that Sheffeld and Timothy were alone, astride their horses, in a stand of trees at one point.

    Timothy made as if he didn’t know that Sheffeld was bearing down on him, and exclaimed in pain and expressed his surprise when Sheffeld struck his arm with his riding crop—supposedly to get his attention but just as likely to warn of Sheffeld’s preferences in sex play—and then, when Timothy turned in the saddle, struck at him on the thigh.

    “Down off the horse,” Sheffeld growled.

    “Nay, sir, I don’t think that’s what you want,” Timothy said, looking past the captain.

    “Don’t tell me what I want—or answer back.”

    “You can have what you want—whatever you want,” Timothy said, “but at the moment I don’t think you want to miss out on that.” He was gesturing behind Sheffeld, and when the captain turned in the saddle, he saw what Timothy had seen—a twelve-point buck broke out of the trees and ran for open ground. With a yell, Sheffeld made his choice and was galloping off after the buck. Having delivered the tease, Timothy rode back to the house to ensure there would be no further encounter with Sheffeld that afternoon.

    At dinner that night, after several stiff drinks in Hadley’s study with the two men going over the afternoon’s hunt, each of the men had a naked young musician sitting in his lap. The young men were from a string quartet that had sedately started the evening playing music for the first course. Between the second and third courses, Hadley had said, “I don’t think this dinner is spicy enough. These young men do more than play their musical instruments. They will be happy to play your instrument as well.” He then directed the young men to strip and resume their concert, and they did so. Sheffeld and Hadley each, at Hadley’s urging, picked out one of the musicians and fucked him on the table at opposite ends between the fourth and fifth courses.

    The two men were fast friends now, and Sheffeld, at least, was drunk as a skunk when he decided it was time for him to retire to his room with his young cellist.

    “Just the one?” Hadley asked. “You mentioned earlier that you didn’t bring your dresser from the ship as he was ill. Your young man there plays the cello; he doesn’t dress. Let me offer to you my best dresser—and undresser—to serve you.” At that he motioned over Timothy Grady from where he had been standing at the wall, having slipped into the dining room quietly after the two men had returned to their seats following their use of the table top for sport. “Timothy, show our guest to his room and do for him as he wishes,”

    “Certainly, sir,” Timothy dutifully answered.

    Captain Sheffeld trained his eyes on Timothy for the first time that evening, as Timothy had been standing behind him, at the wall, unobtrusively, during the dinner service. His eyes slitted in pleasure. There was nothing about the young, sandy-haired man that Sheffeld didn’t like. He had been hot for his chance at Timothy since he’d arrived.

    After helping the captain off with his soiled white shirt, Sheffeld pressed Timothy down on his knees before him to unbuckle and help pull the man’s britches and then his stockings down. Grasping Timothy’s head between his hands, he guided Timothy’s head to where he wanted it, and Timothy dutifully opened his mouth to the man’s cock and gave him suck. The young cello player lay on his back on the bed, legs bent and spread, hand stroking his cock, and watched Timothy give the British warship captain head.

    Moving to the bed, Sheffeld sat beside the prone cello player and helped guide Timothy with one hand on his bare buttocks and the other hand flicking at the cello player’s thighs and belly with a riding crop. While Sheffeld dallied there, Timothy grasped the cello player’s knees, hunched between his spread legs, and fucked the young man missionary style. Getting into the play, Sheffeld rose to behind Timothy and flogged him at half strength with the riding crop on the thighs and buttocks. Timothy groaned and moaned a bit at the half-hearted beating, which raised welts but not blood. After a few minutes of this, Sheffeld saddled up close behind Timothy; mounted and penetrated his channel with a throbbing, hard cock; and fucked him from behind while Timothy fucked the cello player. The three worked their way up on the bed, and Sheffeld was so engrossed with doing pushups on Timothy’s back that he didn’t notice when the cello player rolled out from underneath them and left the British ship captain and Timothy to engage in periodic bouts of flogging and sex through the night.

    Captain Sheffeld was hung over enough the next morning that he later couldn’t remember exactly who had suggested it, but he found that, when he rode away from Hadley’s estate on horseback, there was an additional man in his retinue. Somehow Timothy had been extended the invitation to spend a week on board the HMS Yarmouth, serving and servicing Sheffeld, while the captain’s regular dresser was recovering from whatever malady he was suffering.

    While on board the ship, Timothy was given free rein to explore and to mingle with the ship’s sailors and the complement of bored soldiers and chatty officers. Some of the British military men were also randy and in need. There was no end to convenient and hidden nooks and crannies about the ship where Timothy could be pulled into for a quick suck or fuck and a bit of sexy talk. It wasn’t only Sheffeld’s cock that Timothy sheathed in the week, and, although Sheffeld guarded against pillow talk, other men who were inside Timothy didn’t.

    It was nearly twilight when a skiff delivered Timothy across the water and back to a dock on the Staten Island shore. Sheffeld had established that he would want Timothy’s services again, and Timothy had readily agreed, saying that he was indentured to Thomas Hadley, so whenever Hadley was willing to loan him out to the captain of the HMS Yarmouth, Timothy was quite willing to come to Sheffeld wherever he was.

    Timothy stood on the dock, watching the skiff from the Yarmouth return to the ship. When he could see that that had been accomplished, instead of walking back to the stable area of the small shipyard, he hopped down into another skiff bobbing in the water at the side of the dock and, using the cover of darkness, began a long, dangerous sail across the contested zone of New York harbor and then up into the mouth of the Hudson River. He hoped that it would be at least a couple of days before Captain Sheffeld requested his presence and services again.

    * * * *

    24 August 1776

    “And what do we have here? Quite a commotion for outside of General Washington’s conference tent.” Major Brady Lathrop, one of George Washington’s aides-de-camp, accompanied by a younger, thinner man, brushed aside the flap to a large tent near the shores of the Hudson River in Harlem, inland from Manhattan, and stood, clearly blocking entrance into the tent and facing four men.

    Two of the men were colonial militia sentries. The third man was Lieutenant Douglas Bester, assigned to Major Lathrop’s intelligence and reconnaissance unit. He too was standing between the entrance to the tent and the sentries, guarding the entrance. It was his voice that had been raised and had been heard from inside the tent. The fourth man, being held in check between the two sentries, was Timothy Grady, exhausted, wet, and bedraggled looking from his dangerous sail under the cover of darkness up the Hudson River from his week’s stay aboard the British warship HMS Yarmouth.

    “This man. I know this man. He came ashore saying he needed to report to General Washington,” Lieutenant Bester said, turning to his superior officer. “I have no idea how he knew the general was here. But I know this man. I suspect him to be a British spy.” The anguish was almost palpable in Bester’s voice—the tear of loyalty between his hoped-for country and a young man who had lain under him and provided him with the best sport he’d yet to have with a man. He’d been torn by his conflicting thoughts of Timothy ever since he’d learned that the young man and his Tory master, Thomas Hadley, had fled from Manhattan—to who knew where? Bester had struggled with himself, especially given his assignment to Major Lathrop’s unit, on whether to make a report on Timothy after he’d first met and fucked him, but had not done so. He would have had to make a careful report to avoid acknowledging how intimately he’d known the young man. He suddenly regretted not having taken that action.

    “Aye, I recognize the young man, as well. And, yes, I know him to be a spy,” Major Lathrop declared. Strangely, he was smiling rather than looking concerned that a British spy had made his way to the entrance of General George Washington’s command tent.

    Bester’s mixed emotions soared. He’d been right, although he’d give anything not to have been right about Timothy. He felt both a rod of steel run up his back to bolster what he’d known all along and his internal organs collapse at the knowledge that a young man he’d become obsessed with sexually, if only briefly, was now beyond his reach. “I’ll show him to the stockade then,” he said, trying to muster up a strong voice of resolve.

    “No, Lieutenant, you can show Mr. Hale here to a tent where he can rest before going where he has to go. Mr. Grady can come on into the tent to give his report. He is a spy—but for us, as is his employer, Thomas Hadley. Not that you are to tell anyone else that.”

    Bester’s emotions did another flip-flop and suddenly the storm clouds around him broke open to sunshine and soaring joy. He gave Timothy a look that was an unmistakable one of relief and sexual want, a look that was returned by Timothy as Lathrop took the young man’s arm and guided him into the tent.

    “Come, Mr. Hale, I’ll show you where you can take your rest—and you two can return to your posts with our thanks for your diligence. But forget this man you have brought to us and speak not of it to anyone.” Bester was addressing the two sentries, unable to keep the elation out of his voice, as he motioned for Hale to accompany him.

    “My thanks,” Hale said. “Please, though, call me Nathan.”

    Ushering Timothy into the tent, Major Lathrop said, “You can give your report to me. I’m sure you can understand that General Washington is taken up with other matters. You must have found something truly worthwhile to have chanced boating on the river.”

    “Yes, I’ve been aboard the British ship Yarmouth this past week and have heard much about British intentions.”

    “From one of the ship’s officers? From Captain Sheffeld himself? Incidentally, our thanks for the report on what you picked up in town and Mr. Hadley sent to us on what was being said about the disposition of our forces. The civilians seemed to know too much about our movements and are too willing to talk about them.”

    “Yes, that’s what I found on the Yarmouth too,” Timothy answered. “The officers told me little—and I had full access to Captain Sheffeld”—Timothy didn’t say what full access meant, but Major Lathrop knew how he was collecting intelligence; he just wasn’t going to speak of it aloud—“but the sailors and soldiers aboard were fairly forthcoming and some of the officers supported what they had to say, although they didn’t know they were doing so. What is important to pass on is that plans are afoot for the British to take Long Island and then to attack Manhattan. They are not going to be content with a foothold only on Staten Island.”

    “You’re sure of this? We’ve heard and seen nothing moving toward this.”

    “The British sailors and soldiers believe it, sir. And I’ve heard about a coming peace conference from the officers and that it is just a diversionary tactic—that they only await augmentation of their troops to make their invasion move.”

    “You’ve heard of the planned peace conference with the British? That possibility has been closely held,” Lathrop responded sharply.

    “Aye, sir. What I hear is that General Howe has no authority to agree to anything, nor intention to—that he’s just playing for time.”

    “This be important information—if true,” Lathrop said. “I’d best convey this to the general straight away. You look done in. I’ll have you taken to refreshment, a cleanup, and sleep—assuming you can be away for the night. The general may have some follow-up questions for you.”

    “I was returning to Mr. Hadley’s Staten Island estate from the ship when I came here,” Timothy answered. “I am, of course, at your disposal—your full disposal.” Timothy gave a little smile and batted his eyelashes. He, of course, was signaling his availability to Lathrop, who was a fine figure of a man. Timothy was available to any man who could solidify his position with the colonialist forces, although his thoughts were dwelling on Lieutenant Bester, who had sent Timothy’s heart aflutter and the staff of his loins hardening at the chance encounter with him outside the tent. There was no answering hint of interest coming back from Lathrop, though, so Timothy just sighed and thanked him for offering rest and refreshment.

    At the tent entrance, Lathrop and Timothy found that Douglas Bester had returned and was waiting for the chance to see Timothy again.

    “Ah, Lieutenant Bester,” Lathrop said. “You have returned from seeing to Mr. Hale’s well-being. Perhaps you could do the same for Mr. Grady here. He will be spending the night with us in case General Washington needs to interview him himself.”

    “I would be delighted to see to Mr. Grady’s needs,” Bester answered, turned so the gleam in his eyes was for Timothy’s observation only.

    Timothy was equally willing to have Douglas seeing to his needs. The “needs seeing” extended beyond food and ale to a sponge bath provided by Douglas’ own hands and then a lay down on a pallet in a closed tent, with Timothy on his back, his arms forced over his head with Douglas grasping and trapping his wrists, and Douglas’ knees pressed under Timothy’s buttocks, giving Douglas’ cock a deep penetration angle up into Timothy’s channel for a prolonged, vigorous plowing of Timothy’s ass. After a brief snooze with Douglas stretched behind Timothy and embracing him close, Timothy was awakened by the officer rolling him over onto his belly, mounting his ass, and holding a hand closed over Timothy’s mouth to stifle his cries of being taken completely, as Douglas rode his ass hard, just as both men wanted him to do.

    At twilight of the next day, Timothy, a bit bowlegged from how often Douglas had fucked him before they were forced to leave the tent in the morning hours, with an added fuck session in the afternoon and then again after dinner, Timothy pushed his skiff off into the Hudson. He was smiling broadly and completely satiated. Never had he had the loving that Douglas had given him the previous night and that day. He returned to Hadley’s Staten Island estate only to find that Captain Sheffeld had already called for him again from on board the HMS Yarmouth. With a sigh, Timothy returned to his many-faceted duties on the British warship.

    On August 27th, the intelligence he had passed on about British intentions to occupy Long Island was born out when British troops landed on Long Island. He hadn’t had opportunity to pass on from his current stay on the Yarmouth that they also were launching an assault on Brooklyn with a siege of Brooklyn Heights, but the colonialists got the message. They desperately sent agents to Staten Island to seek a further report from Timothy, only to be told that he was still aboard the Yarmouth—unless he now was on Long Island (which was the case) with the occupying British troops. Starved for news from the Tories in Manhattan, Hadley was asked to return to Manhattan himself, which he reluctantly agreed to do after receiving assurances his person, house, and business would be protected from the increasingly angry and fearful rebels trying to hold onto Manhattan.

    Seeing the writing on the wall in terms of the untenable position in Manhattan, General Washington withdrew his troops from the lower part of the island on the night of 29–30 August, 1776.

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

  • Lick It Up

    You want to watch?”

    The question lingered in the air as Peyton sat frozen in place. He considered how some of the other guys would respond. Defiantly turning and daring Braxton to do it. He could picture it, this bravado between guys. The problem would be his own reaction. He knew it would make him hard. But he didn’t want Braxton to think he had the better of him. He wanted to be like other guys. Uncaring, willing to see if Braxton dared do it. He turned slowly, swiveling the chair around and looked at the naked body lying prone only a few feet away.

    “Well, go on. Do it,” Peyton replied, making his voice sound like he was taunting Braxton, not encouraging him. But he wanted too.

    Braxton slowly stroked his thickening cock. It grew longer in his hand until a few inches was always visible around his fist. As he stroked, he would look over to make sure Peyton was still watching. And Peyton never disappointed. Eyes glued to the stroking hand, he watched; every fucking stroke until the cock glistened wetly.

    Nothing was said, the room silent for a long time until Braxton increased his pace and the familiar sound of wet cock being stroked broke it. Peyton adjusted hardening cock within his jeans as he fought with his own urges, those desires he struggled daily to conceal from Braxton. He had to do something, make some comment to camouflage his growing arousal.

    “Hurry up, I’ve got another assignment to do,” said Peyton, trying to sound defiant. But the tone was wrong, no real conviction to it, and Braxton looked over smiling.

    “You want to see me come?”

    “That’s…why your masturbating, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah…” Braxton moaned, laying back, watching Peyton as he began to shudder, then jerk with ejaculation after ejaculation, thick wads of cum spattering chest and stomach.

    Peyton grew wide eyed at the amount of cum and how it rained down on Braxton’s torso. He looked at the pools of it, how some ran together, others trickle over the side. Then he watched Braxton run his fingers through it, smearing it over his chest and stomach. Braxton held up two runny fingers.

    “You want it?” Braxton asked in a mischievous tone.

    “Fuck off,” Peyton uttered, spinning around, and moving up to his desk where he could hide from Braxton the tugging at the crotch of his jeans trying desperately to get his erection into a comfortable position.

    Braxton went into the bathroom and soon the sound of the shower running came through the door. Peyton leaned back, frantic for relief, unzipped his jeans and fished out his cock. He stroked it with a frenetic pace, for he did not want Braxton to catch him. He slid under his desk and felt the head bump the bottom of the drawer. It was painful but it brought him a wicked pleasure and he continued to push upward until he was spraying the bottom of the drawer with cum. He leaned forward and let the rest land on the floor until he was finally spent.

    The shower shut off and Peyton quickly got his half hard cock back into his jeans while worrying the added scent of his cum would be noticeable to Braxton. He held his slimy hand under the desk, using his left to turn the page as Braxton came out, naked with the towel tossed over the right shoulder. He didn’t look around as he heard Braxton stirring behind him, hoping it was to dress.

    When Braxton grew quiet, Peyton looked around to see him napping. He pushed back to slide out from under his desk, feeling his foot slip a couple of times in cum. Grabbing up clean clothes, he slipped into the bathroom to clean up.

    Peyton would find life in that small dorm room became more intense. Almost unbearable the way Braxton kept the atmosphere charged with sex. If Peyton had the door open to the corridor, he would come in and close it. He kept the room closed to the others while he stripped off his clothes, going around in boxers, or skin-tight briefs, or far too often nothing at all. He began to masturbate openly, sometimes in the afternoon, most often at night where Peyton lay in the darkened room and watched the silhouette of a hand stroking hard cock.

    Peyton never found the words to complain, to tell Braxton to stop. He couldn’t do it, not with this growing need to see it. He wanted to watch as much as Braxton wanted him to. But for days, Peyton was careful, never letting Braxton catch him masturbating in response. He fought his primitive urges to do it at the same time as Braxton. Especially at night when the dark shadows of the room might conceal him.

    One Saturday afternoon, Braxton at swim practice, Peyton closed the door and went to the window. He told himself it was just to look out, see what was going on down in the Commons, but he really wanted to make sure Braxton wasn’t strolling back from the Aquatic Center. He stripped off his clothes and went into the bathroom, pulling the door closed just in case. He got the shower going, and once water ran warm, eased underneath the spray. He soaped up his body, then toyed with his cock, getting it hard. He slowly stroked it, feeling the increase of his arousal. He leaned his forehead against the tile wall and watched his hand stroke himself. He tried not to do it, but he imagined the hand belonged to Braxton, a simple reach around to help him out. He stroked faster, feeling his cock become rock hard. He pushed down aiming it straight out thinking of Braxton, down on knees about to take him in the mouth. He spun around slowly, resting shoulders against the tile while pushing out with his hips. He stroked slowly, keeping his arousal at a fevered pitch, right at the edge, almost to the point of no return.

    Eyes closed, Peyton pumped his hips through his fist, and he imagined it was Braxton’s mouth. He grew more aroused and moaned despite his previous fear of being overheard. He moaned with every push through his fist. Then he uttered aloud, “Oh Braxton…suck me.”

    “You pervert,” Braxton uttered.

    Peyton staggered to his feet as cum spattered the glass. Braxton was sitting on the toilet, hair wet, wearing just baggy gym shorts, watching him masturbate. He turned to face the wall as his cock flexed in his hand, feeling a heat well up in his face worse than any fever. He was so embarrassed he couldn’t think straight. Facing the wall, his cock finally spent, all he could hear was Braxton laughing.

    After rinsing the soap off, Peyton shut off the water, and he slid the glass door open. He grew defiant, standing naked before Braxton, who seemed in no hurry to leave the bathroom.

    “Hand me my towel,” Peyton uttered, pointing at the towel now laying over the back of the toilet, instead on the seat.

    Braxton reached around for it, then held it out. Peyton saw the smirk, the look of satisfaction at catching him masturbating.

    “Nice cock, by the way. I bet the girls would really like it; if you were willing,” said Braxton.

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Peyton asked in a fiery tone.

    “Nothing,” Braxton replied, getting to his feet, and going back into their room, leaving the door wide open.

    Peyton saw the score. Braxton had set the tone, this lack of discretion, where nudity was to be the norm. He dried off and with a defiance that would surface often over the coming days, tossed it over his shoulder and strolled out to get dressed in front of Braxton.

    But despite his defiant façade, Peyton felt his defenses weaken. For the next few days, Braxton seemed to attack them with some sly comment, or some gesture. But it was the masturbating that did it. Braxton was doing it more often, and never during the middle of night. It was always during the afternoon, or first thing in the morning before getting up to dress for classes, or late evening before they turned out the lights. The dorm would be quiet by then, as everyone was settling down and Peyton would hear it, a wet hand on cock. He became so accustomed to it he didn’t know when he began to watch without concealing his longing. It didn’t take long and he found himself watching every time, transfixed by the hand on cock, the way it moved up and down, or swirled around the sensitive head making Braxton moan at the self-manipulation.  

    By the next Thursday night, Peyton was a wreck. Braxton wasn’t gone enough, and he felt aroused all the time. His cock ached for release, even in classes where he would squirm in his seat begging it to go down. That afternoon, Braxton had a longer practice session than usual, as they prepared for a big meet on Saturday. He strolled in around four, wearing jeans, shirt, and a light jacket. The temperature had dropped the night before, forcing Braxton to put on more clothes than usual. Peyton was on his bed, sitting sideways with his back against the wall. He was reading for pleasure, a story with homoerotic undertones he could not fell to notice. He was so absorbed with the story he didn’t hear Braxton walk into their room until movement caught his eye. He looked up to see him starting to undress. A quick glance to his left and he saw their door closed, knowing it was locked too. He knew. Braxton wouldn’t stop removing clothing until ever garment was tossed on the floor. He watched the muscular body come into view, holding his breath as he did every time.

    “Fuck, I’m so goddamn horny,” Braxton uttered as he fell back on his bed and didn’t hesitate to start the familiar manipulation.

    Peyton watched as Braxton grew hard, fully erect, and stroked slowly, building up his arousal. Peyton knew the routine, this ritual of self-gratification. Braxton would go slow, painfully slow, stroking his cock until his hand and cock were wet. Then he would grow more animated, more vocal, as he stroked faster and faster until reaching the moment of ejaculation. Peyton tugged on his own cock as he watched, unaware of how openly he had become in doing so. He pushed hardening cock into a different position as Braxton held his hand steady and fucked upward through it, moaning whorishly.

    “Peyton, why don’t you do it too?” Braxton asked.

    “What?” Peyton replied, not comprehending what Braxton was saying, capturing only the last few words.

    “…you do it too.”

    “Come on, we’ve seen each other do it. Don’t be such a fucking prude. Take off your clothes and get off with me.”

    Does Peyton lower his guard and jack off with Braxton? That is the question. You know where this leads, but how does Braxton get Peyton to that point. Is this the next step?

    Come back tomorrow, for the next Chapter of Lick It Up.

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

  • Exploring the dynamics of masculinity

    Training Daniel

    Breaking in the quintessential English boy.

    In 1980 I was happily married and living in Wandsworth in London. Across the bridge, fashionable Fulham and Chelsea were just a 10 minute drive away. I had a great job which allowed me to jet all over Western Europe, the eastern countries still being firmly under Soviet rule. I had a day job while my young wife worked nights at a fashionable casino in St. James’s. Weekdays I would arrive home as she was heading out to work. That left me at a loose end after dark. It was time to explore the newly created gay scene.

    Even as recently as three years earlier, gay clubs were very discreet rooms on upper floors of buildings in back streets. In 1980 ‘Heaven’, the gay mega-club, opened under the railway arches of Charing Cross Station. That changed everything. I spent many happy nights there, and at The Queen’s Head pub in Chelsea – appropriately in Tryon Street.

    In the five years I lived in London I had a long on-off affair with a tall blond Dutch lad who was attending Utrecht University and a brief fling with a young man who worked for the Queen at Buckingham Palace. He has since been knighted and as a ‘Sir’ is a pillar of the Establishment. I also had a short but memorable association with a young German conscript called Uwe who was based in Heidelberg. The great thing about London is that, at one time or another, everyone in the world passes through, and, once away from home, they let their hair down.

    One of the most interesting and enjoyable relationships was with a young man called Daniel. Let me tell you about that, first.

    I was giving an end-of-term lecture to a group of students on a Timber Technology course at a university in the Home Counties, west of London. This was one of my many duties as Technical Officer for the organisation I worked for. After an hour we all took a refreshment break during which the students, who had recently been on a field trip, were passing around some photographs they had taken. One of the pictures was attracting much laughter. I asked to see it. The young man who handed it to me, was the the subject in the photograph. He was smiling broadly at the camera and wearing only white briefs. He had a lovely smile and was boyishly good-looking. After the lecture I handed out some business cards, making sure to give one to the this young man.

    Three months later he phoned me at the office. He was now trying to sell me life insurance. Having got a degree to placate his father, he was more interested in pursuing money than a career in anything technical. As he was trying to inveigle me into his plans, I thought it only fair I should return the favour.

    I said something like, “if it is the pursuit of money and power that most interests you, maybe you would be interested in a secret organisation to which I belong.”

    He was instantly hooked. I was less succinct than that, but he got the message. One evening, three days later, he called at my flat. Daniel was from Essex. The family were reasonably well off. However, his father was insisting the lad made something of himself. I suspect it was his father’s influence which drove Daniel’s obsession to be successful. I sat him down and spun my web. I made no promises and said nothing specific. I implied, inferred, suggested, a club of powerful and influential men existed. If he played his cards right, he might be considered for membership. He leaned forward in his chair, hanging on my every word. Of course, there would be hurdles to jump over. He would not be permitted to simply walk in.

    “Go home and have a think for a couple of days,” I said. “The tests will be demanding. Be sure you want to get involved in all this.”

    “I don’t need to think about anything. I want in. What do I have to do?”

    Daniel was dressed in his double-breasted light grey business suit. He was my height, slim, dark haired and slightly tanned. He was confident and articulate to the point of supreme arrogance. He was also good-looking beyond handsome, with a firm chiselled jaw and an ever-present winning smile on his face. In fact he was beautiful, flawless – and he knew it. Obviously, all of these qualities would make him difficult to handle. Conversely, his arrogance and boundless ambition were the buttons I was able to press to control him.

    “Stand up,” I ordered. “Let me look at you.”

    He jumped to his feet and stood in front of me. I could only have been two years older then him. My authority stemmed from his assumption I had already cracked the secret of success. As I have already mentioned, I knew there was only one way to handle this guy, be more arrogant than he was.

    “Strip!” That was all I said. No explanation. No pleasantries. Either he would or he would not. I had already warned him of the difficult tests of stamina to follow. He had two simple choices now: pass up a one-in-lifetime-opportunity or comply. He took less than five seconds to think about it. Off came his smart double-breasted jacket, tie and shirt. He took off his shoes then, for some reason, he hesitated. I later asked him why.

    He replied, “Momentarily I froze. I forgot what I was doing.”

    Self-evidently his mind was racing. His facial expression was calm even though his mind was in overdrive. He thought he knew himself but that was only within pre-explored boundaries. Suddenly he had reached the point where he had to take off his pants in front of this stranger. His self confidence, which he had believed was limitless, now crashed up against an unknown barrier. He played with the shoelace on the shoe he held in his hand while he rebooted his self confidence, and in a second or two, decided to commit. He took off his socks and his suit trousers.

    Back in control, his bravado kicked in. He pointed with both hands to his blue cotton briefs. “These as well?”

    There is an interesting dynamic at this point. When you tell a guy to strip, his ego places him in a difficult position: if he tries to keep his underpants on he risks looking like a timid wimp; if he strips naked straight off – and maybe this was not the intention of the instruction – he feels he might cause offence or look stupid. This was Daniel’s dilemma. I understood perfectly.

    I replied, “Leave them on for the time being.”

    Of course I wanted to see him naked, however, it was important I did not appear overly anxious to do so. Secondly, by saying “for the time being” I could prolong his angst. He would not be relaxed about being naked in front of a fully clothed stranger. He was smart enough to know getting naked, when I eventually chose to give the order, was only phase one of an unknown ordeal. I wanted him to worry about that. The issue is all about the workings of the male ego. Once you strip a man naked, if he looks reasonably fit, his next response is to show off, to pose. He will take the view, the deed is done, he might as well make a show of it. It is much more fun to keep him almost naked because the next stage, when his balls and dick will have to be exposed, is the thing that will play on his mind. I knew he will now be worrying about how he will be judged. Will his dick be considered under-sized, or worse still, is there a risk, in the excitement he will get an erection. Some guys do and it is not sexual excitement; it is the adrenaline surge.

    I had Daniel do a few push ups and sit ups. Two reasons for this: it allowed him to show off and thus relax a little, and, more importantly it got him accustomed to following my orders. This is a road I am leading him down. After a while we will reach the point at which he has travelled so far along it, invested so much effort and emotional energy, he will not want to turn back – no matter where it leads.

    He had been at work in the City all day so, being the hygiene freak I am, I led him down the narrow hallway to the bathroom, where I instructed him to lose the underpants. Obviously he could not get in the shower with them on. He knew that, therefore no resistance. I had him kneel down in the shower tray. I held the shower head in my right hand and soaped his shoulders and upper back with the other.

    I explained to him how he must not be a prisoner of conventional western thinking. If he wished to be one of the masters-of-the-world he must embrace the ways of other cultures. I said it was perfectly common in many countries to be bathed by another man. By now I had washed his chest and stomach and reached the border of his thick black curly pubic hair. He knelt and waited. Mentally, I had him locked. Turning back or voicing any objection now would make him look weak. I could see by the distant look on his face he was concentrating on keeping calm. I took my time reaching down to his balls and then stroking up along his cock.

    Daniel was not especially well endowed. Don’t get me wrong, everything was in proportion. It was simply that he had a figure like the statute of David: boyish and slender. Slowly and gently I lathered his genitals, alternating between kneading his ball sack with my whole hand and then his individual balls between my fingertips. His still limp cock I cradled in the palm f my hand. I was not at all disappointed he was not getting hard because I liked the idea he was not enjoying this. He was merely enduring the trespass. This now gave me true power over him. His masculine ego demanded he take this treatment stoically like a man. He had imprisoned himself in this process so now I was his undisputed jailer. I had not coerced him; he had trapped himself.

    If he was struggling with this, and there was no doubt he was, how would he react when I slipped my soapy finger between those firm arse cheeks? I was pushing my luck and I knew it. Daniel was absolutely heterosexual. It was obvious. Apart from the two hour lecture I delivered at his college, he had only known me for half an hour. And now, here he was, kneeling naked before me and about to get fingered where no one had touched him since his mother had changed his nappies.

    I put down the shower head so I could use my right hand. I applied soap to it liberally and then slipped between those golden cheeks. My heart was pounding like crazy. He didn’t flinch. To break the silence and impose my control some more I said, “Spread your legs.”

    He did and I was able to swirl my hand between his soft hairless cheeks and with my forefinger rub against his bud. I had never before had the opportunity to stroke a man in such an intimate place and, for sure, he had never experienced anything like this. The only thing pounding harder than my heart was my cock. I tried not to let Daniel see the bulge in the front of my pants.

    However much I was enjoying this, I could not find an excuse to prolong it any more. I told him to stand and wash his legs and feet. When he was out of the shower I towelled him down. Now his crotch was more accessible, I peeled back his foreskin. To my American friends let me explain the joys of a foreskin. Principally it maintains the sensitivity of the gland beneath. Moreover it represents a shield to an inner sanctum. This means, when you strip a straight man, you can enjoy seeing his nervousness, confusion, fear even. Then, you have the added pleasure of peeling his foreskin and watching him squirm and blush all the more as the next layer of intimate conquest takes place. A grown man has probably had his crotch grabbed a few times in life, if only in the rugby scrum, but there are very few scenarios where a straight man must endure having his foreskin peeled back by another man. This makes the event, the sensation and the emotion all the more powerful.

    I took him back into the sitting room. Everything was going perfectly and I had no wish to rush things. Inexperienced though I was at the time, I sensed there was a necessary pace to things. This boy was so extraordinarily handsome I wanted more than a one night stand. I was experiencing an extreme sexual high whereas, in that respect, he was completely neutral. You could say, a blank canvass on which I might write. I needed a few plausible excuses to keep him naked so that I could introduce new angles to the game. I did not have a master plan. I was simply very pleased to have gotten this far with him.

    I had him do some more sit ups, stand to attention, bend over. I knew if I simply started stroking him without some excuse or pretence I would lose the upper hand. It was important he did not realise how much I was enjoying this and that this whole exercise was simply for my pleasure. I had him kneeling on the carpet on all fours when the telephone rang. It was my wife calling from work. She had a question about something and needed my advice. She was in a happy playful mood but also, being at work, was in a hurry.

    As soon as I picked up the handset she began talking. I listened, interjecting only with the words, “Yes,” then “continue”, then “I agree”, finally “do it!”

    She said, “Right, good, OK, bye.” But Daniel heard none of that.

    He heard only, “Yes, continue, I agree, do it.” No ‘thank you for the call, bye bye’.

    To him it sounded like I might be arranging someone’s assassination, or something. He commented it was like the phone conversations he heard in films and on TV. The abruptness impressed him. English people never spoke like that. It fitted in perfectly with the aura of strangeness and mystery I had conjured up. I ordered him to crawl over and position himself so I could rest my feet on his back like a human foot stool. He knelt naked and submissive as I told him he must come back in a week. I set a time and a date. I had achieved more this evening than I could have imagined when he rang me to try and sell me life insurance a few days ago.

    I knew he was hooked. If I took things forward carefully I could do much more with him, and to him. Simply bending him over and fucking his arse was not at all my aim. This was not about wham-bam-thank-you-man. I was aware that could be obtained via the gay pubs and clubs. I wasn’t interested in basic animal-like fucking. I was beginning to realise my fetish was control; preferably the control and total domination of powerful and strong straight men.

    Daniel confirmed he would return at the appointed day and hour. I now had a week to plan what I would do next with him. The planning was almost as exciting as the actual event.

    Chapter 3: Daniel must be trained to cope with penetration in its various forms.

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

  • City Analyst to Naked Property

    A Faggot Has No Friends

    I sat naked in the passenger seat of my former sports car, my bare feet spread wide on the dashboard exposing my newly shaved legs and cock to any passer by or fellow motorist at traffic junctions. Lewis drove me on the journey to one of my favourite times of the week, football practice. I looked across at him, dressed smartly and casually, and considered the fact that he was now my owner. I submitted to his commands with a mix of horror, shame and fear.

    As a free man, I had always loved every aspect of football. Now I sat naked and contemplated the horror of the next few hours. I did not want to take any part in the forthcoming football practice.

    Lewis informed me that he had ways of knowing if I carried out his orders. I dared not even consider that he was exaggerating and resolved that I would do whatever he told me to do. I could not win, and the shame and sickening horror of my slavery was out of my hands. Lewis informed me that I would take part in every aspect of training as normal, and that I would shower as normal after the game. I would join my former friends in the social club afterwards although he would give me no money. He would also give me no towel, no clothes to change into after football. I would remain there in the social club for 30 minutes: no longer and no shorter. At 9.30pm, I would leave the social club and run home to my apartment. I would do this wearing only my shorts and football socks. No shirt, which would be left behind at the social club. On arriving at the door of my apartment, I would remove my shorts and socks and kneel naked at the door. Only then would I knock to be allowed in by Master Lewis.

    I nodded in confirmation that I understood the commands of my Master. “Yes Master I understand Master”, I whispered. I shivered in fear and shame at my terrible predicament, feeling the goose pimples up my spine at the horror of each humiliating detail.

    My car pulled up at the changing room, next to the football pitch. Looking across for Master’s confirmation, I pulled my legs down onto the floor. “Have a good practice session slave and I will see you later”, Master sneered.

    I paused, a shivering wreck of nerves, and looked across at him. He nodded. With a deep breath, I opened the door to my former car and stepped naked outside. I ran around to the boot and pulled out my basic clothing.

    As his car sped into the darkening gloom, I stood there naked and alone, and I contemplated my vulnerable dependency on him now. Forced to submit to his every word. And he knew with the certain resolve of his total authority over me that I would follow his plans and would be home when he told me to be home.

    Shakily, I pulled my obscenely tight shorts on over my hairless cock and winced as the piercing tugged at me. In the vain hope that it was only a horrible dream, I ran my hands across my abused groin. I felt the smooth skin where once there was pubes. I felt the bleached triangle that was my new pubic bush. It was reality now. And forever.

    I pulled on my tight football shirt and socks, and carried my football boots. And whimpering in utter terror, the bile rising in my throat, I moved towards the entrance to the changing rooms.

    Tonight, I would not be flinging back the door to make my usual entrance with a shout, the centre of attention for my team mates. The former athletic football captain would never return again now. I sighed and turned the handle, taking a giant step into a world where I no longer belonged. The world of the confident jock boys…

    I felt like a naughty schoolboy with a guilty secret as I crept into the changing room at football practice. I felt my cheeks redden instinctively, and I steadied my shaking legs as I made my way silently to my locker, head down. The room was full of idle chatter and the sound of football studs on the tiled floor, as guys made their way outdoors. Only stopping to nod at me and look in surprise at my shaved head.

    My whole body was alert, my reflexes prepared to spring into action like a startled rabbit, ready to defend myself. I had always been king of this domain, captain of the team, and now I could not speak or look any of my team mates and friends in the eye. I felt like the new boy on his first day at work, friendless and anxious to keep a low profile. But this was on a different level: I was a slave, an inferior to all of these free guys, and I felt how far I had fallen since Saturday’s match, the last time I had been a true man.

    Normally I would arrive in smart shirt and jeans and change into my top-of-the-range football gear. I would be carrying my sports bag with towel, and toiletries. Today, I had no gear other than the tight fitting shirt and shorts, no towel or toiletries. I didn’t even have the key to my own locker.

    Wordlessly, I sat down on the bench in front of my locker and toyed with my boots as I waited for the inevitable comments.

    Most of the guys had gone outside already, but five remained, and it was Kyle who spoke first. “What’s the haircut in aid of Gary? Bit extreme isn’t it mate?”

    I looked across and opened my mouth. It felt strange to be able to speak freely, not confined by humbly answering my Master as His inferior. It was not only strange though, it felt frightening and unnatural to be speaking freely.

    “Just fancied a change mate. Didn’t turn out the way I expected though”, I replied, clearing my throat and trying to speak clearly. I had spent the last day mumbling submissively and I tried hard not to replicate this now. I was used to being loud, confident and in control of the conversation.

    I felt five sets of eyes looking at my ridiculous haircut, and looking at my cheap and body-hugging outfit as I sat there. They sensed that something was different about me, they sensed my change of character. The conversation continue amongst themselves as my unsteady hands put on my football boots and stood up, following the other four guys onto the football pitch with a sickening knot in my stomach.

    Coach had already started his discussion about Saturday’s game and so I crept to the back, hoping not to be noticed. I was of course noticed, and the puzzled looks at my new appearance were not allowed to surface as coach was speaking. I rubbed the back of my sore neck with my hand, feeling my new bar code with my Master’s telephone number, burning like a clear signal of ownership into my muscular neck.

    I kept my face focused on coach during his talk, feeling the accusing stares of other men and the nudges as discrete fingers were pointed at me. I tried my hardest not to squirm or redden, and not to hang my head. My mind came back to shocking reality as I heard coach shouted, “Where’s Gary? Got anything to add from Saturday Gary?”

    All eyes now openly turned towards me, bodies turned in my direction, as my team mates cleared a space for me to address the group. I stood there in my tight kit, cock bulging in my tiny shorts, and prayed that no-one would ask me about my shaved head, arms or legs. “No coach”, I answered quietly, the shame of my slavery appearing to me to be etched forever on my whole being, my demeanour and appearance.

    Normally, I always gave my opinion. Normally, I liked the guys to hear my voice, to know I was their captain and that I knew how they needed to improve. I love my husky voice, manly and confident, but now I couldn’t even remember out game on Saturday night, not interest in it any more. My experiences since then would not have been believed had I stood up and announced them to the world. I was no longer a captain. It had disappeared with my manhood. I stood before them in the certain knowledge that I was destined for slavery, and I could not maintain the sham of being their leader any longer. I was going through the motions, here because my Master had commanded it. My days of football captain were well and truly over, and I was trying to build a protective shell around myself that would allow me to come to terms with this stark realisation.

    I put my head down and closed my eyes momentarily as I heard James state, “He’s more concerned with his new hairstyle coach. And practising his skills in the high street”. As my team mates jeered, and openly laughed now at my buzz cut, I looked up at James and met his eyes. I felt the stinging pain of humiliation as I stood there, knowing that James had only hours earlier seen me sprawled practically naked on the high street. He had also no doubt seen the stripes of the cane across my exposed arse as I ran away. How could I defend myself? How could I make any sort of retort, destined for slavery as I was? The dizzy confirmation struck me that I was now surrounded by free jock boys. And they were all my superiors. I was an owned property now, and the difference in my status was to me striking.

    I threw myself into training like never before. The banter that I usually led, the friendly jibes that I directed at my team mates, the words of advice and encouragement that I gave .. these were all gone. Today, I kept my head down and practised hard. On the one hand it felt good to be wearing clothing and in a position where I was not being openly submissive and abused. On the other, I dreaded the knowledge that I would soon be forced to shower in the changing rooms and expose my new body. I had never been one to shy away from stripping in the changing rooms and so my team mates knew my body. How would they react when they saw its new appearance?

    We reached the stage of training where the drills were over, and the team sat on the grass for a five minute break prior to the match. I chose to remain standing and slightly apart from the group as discussions began, until I heard the voice of James again. “Gary, what’s that mark on the back of your neck?”

    I mumbled an incoherent reply and moved my hand self-consciously to cover the mark of my ownership. But it was too late. James was up and behind me and exclaiming “What the fuck?” before I could formulate a reason to run away. Several of my team mates crowded around and looked at my neck, laughing and shaking their heads. They were clearly amazed at why I would do such a thing, and wanted some explanation.

    I struggled to come up with a reason. Why would any sane and athletic guy mutilate his body in that way? I muttered that it was a temporary tattoo, an in-joke between myself and my girlfriend.

    “Wait what? Debbie said that you and Jen were finished. That you had finished with her”, Hayden was confused.

    “Yeah well we are going through a rough patch. But I hope we will sort it out”, I replied, pulling myself away from their gaze and covering my tattoo as best as I could.

    The rest of the game went as normal, other than the fact that my own play was useless. My usual energy and enthusiasm was gone, and my shouting for the ball and leadership skills were not present. Coach called me over and asked if everything was ok, clearly aware of the change in my play and general demeanour. “You look like shit Gary. You sure you ok?”

    I told him I would be fine and that I was under a lot of pressure at the moment. He shrugged it off and I continued to struggle in the game, my whole body sore from the depilation laser treatment and the new tattoos, not to mention my caned arse and my newly abused cock.

    My heart was pounding in my chest as we returned to the changing rooms. I had already been degraded in so many ways, but the thought of stripping naked in front of my team mates and them seeing me like this was horrific. It was beyond anything I could ever imagine.

    We reached the changing room and I sat there, slowly removing my boots and my socks. I was dressed in only my tight top and my snug shorts but the thought of removing either item of clothing seemed incomprehensible. I sat there alone, terrified, as Ben came and sat next to me. He was naked and sat there casually, one jock boy next to another.

    “Gary what’s the matter? The guys are worried about you. You look like shit man, and you look like you’ve got all the worries of the world on your shoulder.”

    “Oh nothing mate. Just going through a difficult patch with Jen, and at work.”

    “You sure you are ok? I’m your best mate Gary. I am always here for you.”

    “Yeah I know, thanks Ben. You can’t help me. I got to work it out for myself.”

    “Come on then, let’s get showered and we will talk about it in the club over a pint”, Ben smiled, picking up his towel and standing in front of me. His big cock and balls swinging free just like a carefree jock boy that he is.

    I sat and looked at him as he waited for me. I wanted to scream and run. I wanted to disappear into thin air. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

    Every fibre of my being on red alert, I pulled my tight top over my body and exposed my new, smooth body to my best mate. I looked at him as he raised his eyebrows in surprise and returned my gaze. His eyes moved down my shaved body, my nipples the only change in an otherwise completely smooth torso.

    I stood up and looked at him again. I was about to lose the respect of my closest friend and confidante. I was about to expose myself to the whole team. And with an audible whimper, I pulled down my tight shorts to stand naked before him. Pink triangle exposed. The word OWNED standing out on the shaft of my cock. And not even a towel to hide myself as I prepared to walk across the changing room floor to the showers.

    Ben stood open-mouthed and stared at me. I stood there, fully exposed, and looked back at him. My shaved body on display, the terrible triangle of pink and my abused cock, tattooed and pierced with a ring. Stood before my best mate like some gayboy exposing my feminised body, and silently screamed inside. Part of me wanted to cover myself desperately, hide what had become of my body. But part of me also wanted to shock him and make him lose his respect for me.

    Ben and I had been best mates for as long as I could remember, since primary school. I loved him. As my mate of course, not in any sexual way. He knew everything about me and I knew everything about him. I trusted him completely. But this was something I could not share with him. I could not confide in him that I was a slave, and what was happening to me. I could not let him see my destiny. I hoped that he would be repulsed by my body, and leave me to be enslaved. Not get involved. He couldn’t be my mate any more. It was too dangerous for him, and too humiliating for me. My whole personality and being was destined for massive change and I knew that I could no longer have any friends.

    Despite my extreme shame and degradation, I let him get a good look at what had become of me, and then I covered my genitals with my dirty football top. My caned arse was hidden from his view against the wall.

    “Something is happening to me”, I appealed, looking into his eyes. “I know I look a freak. But it’s still me. Trust me mate, I can’t tell you about it. But it may mean the end of you and me. I may need to disappear for a while. I am ok. But you just have to let me go. Promise me you wont come looking for me. It would not be a good thing to do. Just leave me and I hope I will get to see you again in the future.”

    I paused and looked into his puzzled eyes, seeking some confirmation that he knew this was no joke. He stared back and stuttered “Gary what the hell is happening to you? Why are you doing this bro?”

    “Leave me be Ben, please. For your own sake.”

    He looked into my eyes a little longer, and I looked downwards to break the spell. He shook his head and I watched as he turned his back, walking towards the showers.

    And so I began the journey that I didn’t want to make, but knew I had to. The journey that would forever change my perception in the eyes of my team mates but that I could no longer avoid. The journey that would irrevocably change my status from jock captain to owned property. I started to walk unsteadily towards the showers.

    I clasped my hands over my genitals and entered the shower area, horribly aware of my exposed caned arse as I walked. I walked into the showers and moved under a water jet, stood on my own in the corner facing the wall. Hands covering my abused cock and balls. There was nowhere to hide. I stood facing the wall and felt the water cascade over my naked body.

    I stood and held my breath as the laughing and talking around me stopped. I shuddered in the certain knowledge that the rest of my team mates were staring at my punished arse, and also no doubt the barcode and numbers on my neck. Involuntarily, I flexed my arse cheeks as I felt their striped abuse to be the centre of attention. Which was worse? My caned arse, or my abused genitals? I think I knew that my genitals would be more of a shock, and so I remained facing the wall. Master had not stated that I had to display my genitals openly, and so I remained in hiding. What was going through their minds as they looked at my abused arse cheeks? The thought made my knees weak as I closed my eyes and waited.

    “Hey kinky boy?”

    I turned my head as I heard the stifled laughs, and my heart reeled at the sight of so many naked, straight guys staring at my exposed and naked body. James took a step forward and glared at me with a challenging stare, the water planing off his own naked body as he squared up to me.

    “What’s going on Gary? Running around naked in the high street, someone been caning your arse, bar codes on your neck, all your body hair disappeared. You turning into a faggot?”

    I may have become a slave but I was no faggot. I was no queer. I could not help the transformations that were being forced on me. The repressed anger welled up inside me and I turned to face him, growling “I am not fucking faggot James.”

    It was only then that I realised my mistake. I closed my eyes in defeat as I realised that I now faced the guys and had shown them a full frontal view of my nudity. I cursed myself at my stupidity and looked down at the floor, as if to confirm to myself that I really did look as ridiculous as I felt.

    I stood there in all my enslaved glory. My muscular frame was now secondary to the fact that my shaved head was accompanied by a smooth body. The pink triangle was all that remained of my pubic hair, and this was now accompanied by the tattooed OWNED down the shaft of my cock and the obscene cock ring. James snorted in derision as he looked at my exposed body. “Fucking faggot”, he sneered and turned his back.

    I looked at the other guys, holding my exposed stance in shocked delay. I registered the look of confused contempt on their faces and recognised that my credibility was evaporating like the steam from the hot showers. In despair I sank to my knees and looked up to the ceiling for help.

    I screamed in despair. “I am not a faggot! I am in a situation that I can’t get out of. I don’t want this but I can’t do anything about it. I am trapped”. I felt the stinging tears of desperation in the corners of my eyes and I shook violently with the utter despair of my predicament. The showers were silent, and I brought myself back from the brink of fainting. I rose from my knees and without a backwards glance ran naked back into the changing area.

    I had no towel. No clean clothes. Silently and quickly, I rubbed down my wet body with the sweaty top that I had used for practice. Quickly, I pulled up the flimsy shorts and ignored the fact that my wet body made them transparent, displaying my cock ring obscenely through the fabric. With my back to the dressing room I pulled on my socks and football boots. With a startled exclamation, I felt a hand across my back and shot bolt upright, turning to see Ben behind me.

    “Calm down”, he murmured. “Look bro, I don’t know what’s going on, but I can help you. You need to tell me what the fuck is going on. I hate seeing you like this bro!”

    I looked at his face, tears misting my view, and sobbed “Thanks Ben. But you really can’t help me, no one can.”

    He put his arm across the top of my bare back and whispered quietly, “James has been slating you in there. The other guys don’t want you in the club. Go home Gary now and sleep it off. Will you?”

    I nodded and wiped my eyes. “”See ya Ben, I whispered, feeling that I would never see my best mate again now that football would no longer be an option for me. With a deep breath, I turned and faced the dressing room and walked across the tiles to the exit. The sound of the studs from my boots echoed across the tiles as I walked through the silent dressing room. The metres seemed to be miles as I trudged across the tiles dressed only in my wet shorts, socks and boots. Every eye on me. Every mouth fixed in a frown at their perception of my new status. I knew these guys, their prejudices and their outlook on society. They were thinking in the same way that I would think if I saw someone behaving and modified as I had been. They now saw me as a homosexual. I had no doubts about that. And to a very straight football team, that was a definite non starter.

    I was defeated. I was no longer a member of the football team. I was no longer a member of the jock boys. I knew that certain fact without needing to turn back, as I exited the door and entered the bracing evening air. And with a sigh, I started to jog.

    Taking one last look behind me at the place where once I was a top dog, I saw that Ben had followed me outside and was now standing alone, watching me running away. Briefly, I considered turning around. I considered going telling Ben of what was happening to me. I considered seeking his help. But how could he help me? My family would be killed if he tried, and my brother, what would become of him? I had nothing left anymore. I had no possessions and my body had been permanently scarred. I was learning my place and I knew that my destiny was now ruled by Master Lewis. Ben could not help me any more. I nodded to myself, my mind made up. I turned away from my good friend and headed towards my Master.

    My freedom was over once and for all.

    So long mate… I sobbed like a little girl.

    With tears of self pity, I turned my jog into a run and ran into the back streets to find my way home. Running solidly and steadily, I was oblivious to the streets around me, dressed only in flimsy shorts and boots. Running back to my Master and back to a life of slavery, the tears cascading down my cheeks as I sensed that my manhood was over.

    It wasn’t long before I reached my apartment block, my skin a block of ice in the cold evening air and yet covered in a sheen of sweat from my run. Keeping to the shadows so as to avoid being seen by my neighbours, I worked my way around to the main entrance and took off my football boots. Slipping inside, I crossed the main entrance hall and moved inside. I clambered up the stairs, pausing only to pass a well dressed couple coming downstairs. Their sneer of contempt and mutterings of disgust seemed nothing compared to my humiliations in the showers.

    Finally I sank to the floor in front of my apartment and lay there for a moment in exhaustion, my body slick on the cool marble floor. Slowly, I raised myself up and sat on the floor, resting my head between my knees and running my hands through my stubbled hair as I rested for a few moments. Waited before I had to beg naked for entry to my own apartment.

    I considered the day that I had experienced today and how far I had fallen since only this morning. The discovery of my new job; the loss of my status at work; the experience of sucking Lewis’s socks whilst naked and erect under my desk; the humiliation of my obscene costume and demotion in front of my colleagues at work; meeting Dennis and learning of my fate as his assistant as he shoved cigarette butts up my arse; the caning from George; giving all of my clothes away in a near naked dash in the high street; the mutilation of my body; the discovery that my slavery was irreversible in Dennis’s flat and finally my acceptance that my days as a football jock were over. How could all of that happen in one day?

    It must have been approaching 10pm and yet still my day was not over. I couldn’t remember a moment when I had not been in some form of slavery today, and even now I could not go into my apartment and relax for an hour. My degradation was not yet over. I looked up and down the corridor and strained my ears for the sounds of any people around. Following my Master’s orders, I pulled off my socks and pulled down my shorts to stand naked in the public corridor. Tired and deflated, I knelt naked at my own apartment door and knocked timidly for the attention of my tormentor, not wishing to attract the attention of any neighbours. I waited for the man who held my life in his hands. I waited for him to open the door.

    He kept me waiting there naked for a few minutes before he opened the door. With a satisfied smile, he motioned for me to come inside and I crawled obediently into the apartment, feeling my cock and balls swing between my legs as I crawled silently and thankfully inside.

    Master, dressed casually in sports wear, moved into the living area and uncertainly I followed on all fours. He sat down on my comfortable armchair and looked down at me. “You look exhausted. Get a beer from the fridge”, he barked.

    Dazed and afraid of his presence, I rose from my knees. “I didn’t say stand”, he snarled and so I crawled naked into the kitchen and brought through the beer. Shaking, I held out the beer to him. “Well open it then”, he stated, not taking his eyes from the football game on TV.

    I opened the beer and my mouth drooled at the smell. Without even looking at me, he reached forward and took the beer before sitting back in his chair again. I knelt there naked before him and ached for a taste of his beer, a taste that I knew would never come. And I waited, silently, as he drank his beer and watched the football. Not daring to turn and face the football, I knelt there head down and waited, staring at his bare feet.

    Finally, the football finished and Master switched off the TV. At his command, I relayed the events of football practice, pausing only to give extra details where he commanded and to wait whilst he openly laughed at some of my degradations. He snarled his disapproval when I told him that I had not been allowed into the bar after practice and warned me that this would result in punishment tomorrow.

    I finished my tale and waited in silence as he finished drinking his beer.

    “So do you not want to go to football practice any more boy?” he stated, moving forward in his chair so that his knees came either side of my head and I was only inches from his smelly groin.

    Head down I replied, “No Master. Truthfully. I didn’t want to ever face my team mates again.”

    He chuckled. “Good job, your Master knows you so well boy. I anticipated you would choose not to be a rugby player any more. But I want my slave boy to stay fit and retain his body for me. Don’t want my slave getting lazy.”

    I looked up at him puzzled. Ruefully I considered that there was very little chance of me ever having a minute to relax if today was anything to go by.

    “So I need to find some fitness course for you don’t I slaveboy?”

    “Yes Master”, I murmured submissively.

    “Glad you agree slave. You see, I have been sorting that out for you this evening. Taking care of my slaveboy’s needs like a true Master should.”

    He paused and took my head in his hands, pulling me up so that my eyes looked into his cruel face and I knelt fully up on my knees. “I’ve already enrolled you in response to a request in the local newspaper. Apparently, they have lots of females but were struggling to find men to take part in their group. In fact, you are the only male as it stands.”

    I was learning not to try and second guess Master any more, as I knew he was building up to some new degrading activity.

    “Don’t know why they don’t get young men doing it. Good for the muscles and excellent exercise I believe. I think it’s just not considered very manly, that’s all.”

    He stared into my eyes and drank in my submission to him.

    “I’ve ordered you some of the specialist gear from online. You start ballet classes next Monday”, he grinned. “And don’t look so crestfallen slaveboy. You’ve got a nice new skintight leotard and some ballet shoes on the way.”

    …

    Master Lewis was watching a football show on TV. Normally, I would have been watching the show myself but I felt my eyes closing and felt no compulsion to watch sport. Somehow, it seemed so irrelevant now: and I had definitely had enough of football for one day. Exhausted, I lay naked on the floor as Master went into the kitchen. I heard the scrape of dishes as if he was cleaning up after a meal and then the shout of Slave. “In here.”

    I remained naked on all fours, genitals swinging, as I crawled into the kitchen area and looked up at my Master. He stood in front of the fridge, beer in hand and smirked at my ridiculous appearance, naked on the floor.

    “Listen up boy”, he stated, taking a swig of his beer and pausing to sigh in contentment. “As we discussed at Dennis’s place, this apartment will belong to me tomorrow when you sign it over to me. I am just waiting for the papers to come through. Since I am now on a wage that more befits my status, I will be moving into here and selling my own apartment. So this apartment is effectively mine already.

    I hung my head and stared at the kitchen tiles. I had known this was the case and I knew that there was nothing I could do about it. But somehow, kneeling there naked on the floor as he stood there fully dressed, drinking my beer, made it seem so much worse, so much more of a devastating blow to my already shattered ego.

    Lewis continued. “And, since you no longer have any income at all and are therefore unable to support yourself, you will be living here as well.”

    I considered the thought of living with Lewis, of being available for his use all day every day. Never having a moment to myself, free of his supervision. It seemed a frightening prospect and I was dazed at how it would work.

    “Of course, when I say you live here, you will be living in quite a different way to the way that you have lived in the past. I have already had a few adjustments made by one of Dennis’s acquaintances whilst you have been busy parading yourself around town this afternoon. There will be a number of rules that you will need to learn about life as a slave when at home.”

    I looked up at him in misery, my eyes reflecting the utter desperation at my situation. He had total power over every moment of my life, every aspect of my existence. I had no clothes any longer, I would soon be signing over all of my belongings. I had nothing that I could call my own apart from my body. And even that now bore the hallmarks of slavery to my Master.

    “Anyway, we will talk about the rules when you have finished eating and the football is over. You must be starving slaveboy and I don’t want you starving to death”. I felt my stomach rumble as if on cue and realised that I had not eaten today at all, nor even had a drink. I looked up expectantly at the microwave and wondered what I would be allowed to eat.

    Lewis reached behind him on the worktop and moved into the corner of the kitchen near the door. He placed something on the floor and called me over.

    I turned the corner of the central kitchen unit, and looked on the floor. Two shiny silver dog bowls were placed on the floor and I moved towards them hesitantly. Surely he would not make me eat like that, from bowls on the floor, like an animal? One of the bowls contained what looked like water, and the other contained what appeared to be a mixture of leftovers. Some chips, some vegetables, pieces of fat and bone from some meat and some crusts taken from a loaf of bread. I looked at the unappetising mess and looked up at my Master in confusion.

    “You will make sure your bowl is licked clean boy. This is a present from your Master. I will be giving you my leftovers every day boy, and you will be thankful for it.”

    I looked up at him in disbelief and wrinkled my nose in disgust at the cold leftovers in the bowl. He glared at me and grabbed my neck from behind, pushing me down so that my face was dragged into the cold mess of food. “Ungrateful bastard”, he snarled pushing my head downwards into the food. “I have got some tins of dog food that I can feed you if you think this is not good enough for you slave. You eat what I tell you to eat, and you are thankful for it”. He kicked me square in the balls with a savage blow and I howled in despair, collapsing forward into the food.

    I lay there and wiped the food from my face with my hands as he turned to walk away. “Make sure you clean that bowl and use your mouth only slave”, he shouted, burping loudly after taking another swig from his beer. “Come through to me when you have finished”.

    And he left me, alone on the floor, to eat the cold leftovers of his meal. It seemed I was not even to be allowed a basic human diet now, eating scraps from a bowl like a dog,

    I was ravenous with hunger, but unused to eating cold chips and a mush of vegetables. Several times the texture and taste of the unappetising food made me gag, struggling to swallow the food. And yet I lay there on the floor in misery, my head down in the dog bowl and my exposed arse and genitals up in the air behind me. Finally, I finished and moved my face into the tepid water of the other bowl, drinking some water down.

    With a sigh, I rested my head on my bare, shaved arms and closed my eyes. When would this constant treatment as a sub-human end? My so familiar flat was like a torture cell to me, and my day had been one long series of unending humiliation. I roused my head from the floor and wearily turned to pad naked across the kitchen and back into the living room as I heard the last segment of the football programme begin. Maybe he would let me sit with him for ten minutes on the settee?

    Lewis turned his head and watched me crawl in front of him. Barking commands at me, he made me lie flat on the floor. He looked down at me and told me to turn onto my back. I turned over and lay in front of him, feet near his body and face towards him. My newly shaved legs pointing up into the air, pushed against the settee either side of his legs. I held my breath as he rested his trainers on my shaved cock and balls and lay there silently. His naked footrest as he watched the football, his weight pushing down on my piercing uncomfortably. I held my breath and tried to block out the pain.

    I remained like this for ten minutes and then casually, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, he told me to remove his trainers and socks. Still lying on my back, I removed his trainers and moved them to the side, before peeling away his sports socks. Using his bare feet, he pushed my forehead back down again. I lay flat again on the floor and felt the soles of his feet cover my face for a few moments, his toes tapping my forehead. It is extremely humiliating to lie exposed and naked, another man’s feet covering your face. It was soon surpassed however when he pawed at my lip with his foot. Understanding my place, I slowly opened my mouth and accepted his bare feet into my mouth. I followed his instructions as he placed the toes from each foot in my mouth, one by one, sucking them clean and also sucking the dirt from between his toes.

    I could no longer be classed as a human being, let alone a man, as I considered the lowly status of someone who licked the dirt from another man’s feet. It made me feel disgusted with my servile behaviour and yet I continued to suck and lick on command as Lewis outlined some of his house rules.

    “Remember these rules slaveboy. They will govern every moment when you are at home. You will always be naked in this house. You will always ask permission before eating, drinking, pissing or shitting. You will never stand, and you will always ensure that your head is below the level of my head as your superior. You are forbidden to sit or lie on any furniture at any stage. Your place is on the floor. When not carrying out a specific order from me, you will kneel naked and face that corner, your nose touching the wall and your hands on your stubbled head. You will wait like that until I require you. You will carry out any task quickly, silently and efficiently.”

    He smiled down at me, as I struggled to suck both of his big toes in my mouth and grinned. “Tough life slaveboy”, he chuckled and stood up, extricating his toes with a pop from my mouth. “Follow me”.

    I could not believe how dismal my life would be, the total lack of any freedom or time spent as a normal man. I crawled after him into the bedroom and at his command I knelt in front of him. From behind him, he produced a metal ring of steel and I gasped as he placed it around my neck and locked it in place with a padlock. I gulped as I realised the tight fitting band made me a collared animal. He chuckled and ran his fingers around the top of my banded neck. “That will remind you of what you are, every minute that you are here. And so will this.”

    He held a small padlock in his hand and waved it before me. Little did I realise how that small padlock would enslave me more than any other form of bondage. Following his instructions, I spread my body face up in an X position on the floor and closed my eyes as I felt him grab my penis by its ring. I winced in pain as he pulled down on it sharply and let out an involuntary exclamation as I heard the snick of a lock. He let go and I felt my penis pulled down by its ring, wrapped down under my balls.

    “Hope you had a good shag on Saturday night slaveboy. You see your cock belongs to me now, and I don’t think that slaveboys should ever be able to use it for pleasure purposes. So your cock ring has been locked to a small ring that Pierre placed behind your balls. You will not be cumming in future, ever.

    He paused and let the cruel extent of his words sink in to my exhausted brain. “Two little rings will control your whole sex life slave. I know that little boys can’t always be trusted to control themselves. Little boys sometimes get distracted from their work by thinking about other things don’t they? I always have your welfare in mind, and so I don’t want you to get punished for not dedicating every ounce of energy to me. Your mind needs to be focused on me alone.”

    He reached down and looped his finger underneath my now imprisoned cock. He pulled upwards gently and I realised that there was no room at all for my cock to move. It was locked in place.

    “If I am not careful, my little boy will be playing with his bald cock at night instead of resting for his work and his worship of his Master the following day. But as I have already told you boy, I control everything. Your days of cumming are over forever. Your little cock is now locked pointing downwards, locked to your balls forever and I can tell you there is no slack”. He pulled harshly on my cock and a bolt of pain shot through my cock causing my hoarse voice to roar in agony.

    “Unfortunately for you, that ring means your cock will not be getting hard again. If it does start to try and point upwards, the pain will be so severe it will soon deflate again. Of course it is never coming off again, so your days of sexual release are over forever boy. Your cock is even more useless now than it has ever been”.

    I shook my head in disbelief and stifled a sob. “Your cock belongs to me now boy, and that means it is for my pleasure and not yours. Of course, my pleasure comes from owning it and controlling it. I’ve always felt that little boys should not be allowed to masturbate. It so distracts them from their work, don’t you think?”

    He paused and looked into my eyes, no doubt noticing the further sinking of my manhood, the further breaking of my life.

    “I love that look of desperation on your face slaveboy. You will live your life in permanent chastity, desperate for relief but never able to cum again. And the reason? Simply because it amuses me. You bragged about fucking girls with your big cock to your football friends all the time huh? Did you think that it was a gift from god or something? Well, I have always thought it would be amusing to take away your every freedom. I hope you had a good wank last week – released some of that sperm – because it was the last one you will ever have. You will have the biggest case of blue balls the world has ever seen”.

    He chuckled and grabbed my balls, which were humiliatingly exposed and pushed out to both sides of my cock. They were not resting in the bottom of my scrotum any more: they were now tightly stretched shaved orbs and already sensitive to his touch as he groped them in his hands. “Wahay! My little slaveboy may have the word OWNED printed down his cock, but he’s also gonna have massive balls filled with cum that can never escape. Billy blue balls!”

    He laughed at his humour and squeezed my balls in his hands. “They look good like this, all exposed and on display”. I squirmed uncomfortably.

    Although sexual excitement was not uppermost in my mind as I lay broken and defeated on the cold floor, the prospect of no release was bewildering. I am a pretty well hung guy, I was a normal guy: I was used to cumming at least twice a day. I mean, girls would comment to their friends how good I was in bed. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was in turmoil. I wanted to shout and plead and tell him this was so unfair. It was so unfair to not even allow me the most basic relief in my destiny of total slavery. But how could I beg him to cum? Somehow I could not bring myself to beg my tormentor – my former work colleague and subordinate – to allow me the freedom to masturbate. It all seemed so unbelievably wrong, so unbelievably humiliating and degrading. So totally wrong that he now controlled my whole body, and had locked away my cock forever. That my balls were to be visibly displayed, large and full of sperm, but imprisoned and mocking me every minute of every day. I was not even an animal anymore, I was a freakish object denied the most basic of freedoms.

    And the smile on my Master’s face told me that he loved every second of my degradation.

    “I want to destroy your old life. Destroy everything that made you a man and make you totally dependent on me. A desperate slaveboy who needs his Master for everything. I want you to have only me in your life. As your owner and Master. Everything that happens to you from now on will be my choice. My rules govern your pathetic existence. You will be helpless for every minute of every day. Every day for ever. I want you to crave attention from me because the rest of your life is going to be so miserable and pointless and lonely, alone in your naked slavery and doing your pointless manual tasks for me. Your Master. And I want you to know every minute of every day that you could have been free if you hadn’t been such a cocky arsehole towards me. That your slavery is your own fault and you are destined to regret your actions for the rest of your miserable, naked life.”

    I saw a grin of genuine delight. This was his dream. This was why he had enslaved me and gone to such lengths to de-humanise me. His dream was coming true and he was loving it. My life was meaningless to him, I was a mere prop in his fantasy. A prop that was destined for miserable slavery.

    He told me to get on all fours again, and I followed him across the room feeling my imprisoned cock and balls now locked to my body, no longer swinging free. We moved towards what had been Anna’s walk-in wardrobe. A small cupboard about the size of a double bed. I noticed that the former cupboard now had a heavy metal door with a heavy latch and padlock at its entrance.

    “Welcome to your new bedroom slaveboy!” Lewis grinned, and pulled open the door. The contents of the wardrobe had all gone, even the wallpaper had been stripped and painted white. The room was completely bare, with a bare lightbulb casting a dim light inside and even the carpet removed. The floor was now bare wooden boards, unvarnished and dirty.

    He kicked my arse from behind and motioned for me to move into this cell. I moved inside and looked in horror as he picked up a chain that was attached to the rear of the cell. With an inane whistle, he attached my collar to the chain and padlocked me into my prison. I lay there on the floor, chained in place and looked up at him.

    He moved out of the cell and looked back at me in triumph. In one day he had managed to take away any pretence that I was a human being any longer, and strip me of any humanity. When I had left for work this morning, I still held out hopes of retaining my life. Now I had been taught that my life was destined only for naked slavery.

    “Fuck me this has been worth the wait!” he sneered, looking me up and down with a smile. Master took out his phone and start taking pictures of my in the degrading position.

    “Sleep well pig. Welcome to your new life!” he shouted before slamming shut the door to my cell and locking it.

    I lay there for a moment, not quite believing my predicament. I heard the latch put in place across the door, and the padlock locking me into my prison cell before the light switch plunged me into darkness so that I can begin my first night as an animal slave, chained naked in my cell.

    It took me a while to believe – lying there naked in chains – that this would be my bedroom from now on, a bare cell with neither blanket nor pillow. I was effectively an animal locked down for the night in naked misery. I lay there in misery and my hand moved down to my cock. I explored with my hands the simple piercings that left my cock chained down to the underside of my balls and whimpered in sheer humiliation and frustration. I realised that my cock was chained tight and there was no way I could wank without permission. It seemed so inhumane to not even allow me the basic use of my cock. How could he do this to me?

    Despite my despair, I was exhausted and soon drifted into a deep sleep. When I awoke, I was unaware of the time. My windowless cell remained dark and the only clues that it was morning were the fact that I desperately needed the toilet, and that my chained cock was trying to resist its prison and give me my morning erection. I lay there and winced in pain as my cock pulled in vain against my piercing. I cursed the fact that I was not even allowed an erection and I openly exclaimed in pain as my cock tried to release its bonds. I shuddered as I realised that this desire to erect would become more and more intense as I was denied any release, and no doubt become the worst torture of all. I lay there in my chains, eyes wide awake as I considered the events of yesterday and contemplated my second full day of total slavery.

    I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of the lock to my prison cell being opened and the sight of my Master dressed in running gear. He was sweating slightly and I realised he has been for a morning run. He grinned at me, revelling in my chained nakedness on the floor, and began to unlock me. He paused only to sniff in the air and exclaim “You smell like a fucking pig boy”.

    I followed him dutifully on all fours, as he moved into the bedroom, pausing to look at the sheets that showed me he had enjoyed a peaceful night in my soft bed as I had lain naked on the floor. He turned to face me and ordered me to make him some coffee and toast from the kitchen, warning me that I was allowed nothing for myself other than a drink of water from my dog bowl.

    I crawled out of the bedroom and moved into the kitchen quickly and silently to prepare his breakfast, my stomach rumbling at the smell of coffee and my mouth drooling as I buttered his toast. I could not bring myself to get down onto the floor to drink from my dog bowl, and I felt a wave of resentment that he got to eat normal food whereas I was denied basic food. I moved quickly back into his presence and presented him humbly with his breakfast.

    He placed it on the bedside cabinet and looked down at me as I knelt obediently before him naked. He told me quietly that I needed to remember his preferences as he liked routine and order in the morning. Then, placing his trainers on my thighs, he told me to remove his footwear. He stood before me dressed in his running singlet and shorts, before slowly removing his singlet. I looked at his bare upper torso for the first time in my life and immediately noticed his hair. I stared up at his hairy chest and he raised his arms to show me his armpits. “Look at my hairy body boy. Look at it. The body of your Master. That’s it!”

    He flexed his muscles before me. Openly flaunting his manly, hairy physique. “I’m the man now. You just know that you’ll never have a hairy chest like this. You’ll never have hairy armpits or hair above your little cock. You’re just a boy now. A pre-pubescent hairless little boy that will never have pubes again”.

    “Feel your Masters body slaveboy”, he stated, motioning for me to rise to my feet. I stood naked before him and he grabbed my hands, placing them on his chest. Slowly, nervously, my shaking hands moved over his hairy chest and he thrust it forward, laughing triumphantly at his superiority over me. I felt sick at doing this: as I rubbed his hairy chest mechanically and thought of how much he now controlled me, I wanted to scream in horror at my obvious subjugation to him.

    “Now feel your own smooth body, little boy”, he crooned. Instinctively, my hands touched my own chest, now hairless. I pulled down to my crotch and felt my smooth cock and balls in horror at the difference. He laughed openly as the horror registered: he was right. He was now the man in control of my life. I was forever only a boy, His boy.

    And yet it still seemed so surreal as I knelt there and watched as he pulled down his shorts and stood naked before me. He pushed me down to my knees again and I stared on a level with his hairy genitals.

    “Open your mouth slave, nice and wide”, he stated in a matter-of-fact way. “And if you even think of closing it, your balls will wish they had never existed”.

    I opened my mouth wide, in full knowledge that his word was law as far as I was concerned. He stood closer in front of me, his legs either side of my torso as I knelt there mouth open, and shuddered at the certainty of some new indignity and humiliation.

    “It’s time for me to give you a glimpse of your new life boy. A life where you will serve me in the most demeaning, degrading ways. It is your number one priority now. To serve me. Whenever and however I want”.

    He paused and glared down at me. I looked up at his body and felt his utter power over me. “I know you must be thirsty and hungry, so I am going to give you a drink now. A drink that you will have every day from now on. Keep that mouth open wide”.

    Realisation dawned as his hands moved down to pull his free cock forwards and aim it towards my mouth. I watched appalled, mouth open, as his cock began to stiffen at the thought of what he intended to do to me.

    “Yeah, a free man’s cock aint it boy? A real man’s cock. It must be weird for you, staring up at my cock like this. You knew me as your subordinate, but now you look at my cock now. Look up at the cock that controls your life whilst your own cock is chained away. But you better get used to it. Its an important part of your world now. Now open wide and receive your drink like a good little boy”.

    What could I do? I looked up expectantly and felt my whole world disintegrate. A spurt of piss shot from his cock, splashing my face and then was aimed directly into my open mouth. Despite my reflex gag, I held it down and gulped down his piss as he used my mouth as a urinal. It seemed to go on forever and my mind tried to blank out what I had become. Its pretty hard to do that when you are staring up at a stream of urine, streaming into your open mouth. The scent of piss filling your nostrils. But of course, he would not let me forget anyway. Kneeling naked and vulnerable as I was, I had no choice. I gulped down the acrid tasting piss: an act that no normal guy would ever do. Was it really only days ago that I was a normal guy leading a successful and busy life? I had a beautiful girlfriend, a girl of my dream that I was going to marry someday. And now I was a shaved, naked urinal.

    The piss flow stopped, and I closed my mouth tasting the disgusting taste of his piss inside my mouth. “Aaaah. That was what I needed. Hope you enjoyed that because its part of your daily routine now. Every day. You have no idea how long I have dreamed of using you as my urinal boy. And now I can do it every day, piss boy”.

    He leaned forward over my face and rubbed his cock down from my hair and forehead, down my cheek and over my lips. A dribble of piss rolled into the corner of my eye, stinging me and causing me to blink. I felt his piss enter my eye and wash over my vision. “Now its time to make you my cocksucker. You will lick my cock clean boy. Don’t even think of hurting me or you will be castrated instantly”, he snarled, slapping my bald balls unnecessarily. Slowly, he moved his cock forward so that it rested on my quivering lips. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and his cock entered inside me for the first time.

    For the first time in my life, I tasted cock. My mouth closed around the cock of another man and I gingerly felt its presence between my teeth. Carefully, I sucked his cock clean, drinking down his last dribbles of piss before he replaced it in his jeans. My mind screamed COCKSUCKER. An act I could never take away. I was forever now a cocksucker. Lewis’s cocksucking slave. And I would repeat the act every day. What had last week seemed impossible at football was now reality.

    I moved my tongue around my mouth, tasting piss and the dried smegma from his cock. My mind reeled in shock and I started to cry in humiliation.

    He sat on the bed and took a long gulp of his coffee. Get used to it slave. “Your life has a new purpose now. To serve me as my property. My naked slave animal. Everything about you will be designed for my benefit and amusement from now on, including your cock sucking mouth. You get no individuality, no personality, no choice. Nothing. Just here to serve me”.

    He rubbed his own cock and tasted his toast as I knelt in shock.

    “No individuality. Mind you, I can’t think of many guys your age and with your physique who live naked and bald as a living urinal to their Master. Maybe you really are an individual”. He laughed at his own joke, towering above me clothed and free. “Isn’t that something boy?”

    “Yes Master!” I choked back my sob.

    He toed my exposed and chained cock with his boots and I felt my cock twitch as I contemplated his words. How could this be true and happening to me?

    “Lick my balls slave”, he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, resting his arms back on the bed and thereby pushing his genitals up and out, his veiny cock pointing upwards in anticipation. Slowly and unwillingly, I moved forward and tried to mechanically block the action out of my mind. I opened my mouth and started to lick my Master’s balls, dragging my tongue across his balls and tasting the sweat from his morning run.

    “oh yeah… oh god that feels so good slave”

    Suddenly, Lewis sighed and stood up. Towering above me naked, his cock even more erected now, I felt more enslaved than ever. He was naked like me, but the contrast between our bodies now marked me as a slave to him. He told me to lie on my back and I quickly complied, wondering what was now to come. Silently, he reached down and grabbed my ankles, pulling them into the air and then pushing them forwards relentlessly, until they rested either side of my head.

    My body was on full display, face up, my legs pinned to the floor either side of my face. I grunted in discomfort as Master held my legs pinned down to the floor and I opened my eyes in shock as he whispered time to fuck your pussy slaveboy.

    “No, no”, I screamed. “No, you can’t do this to me Lewis. Please. Please don’t fucking do this. Please, I am a man. Please. I beg you”.

    He laughed aloud and I felt the sickening touch of his erect manhood slide between my arse cheeks. I closed my eyes and my lips silently begged for release from my impending fucking. “Please no, please” I murmured, whimpering in fear and total distress.

    I held my breath as I felt his cock touch my virgin hole, and with one manly grunt and a triumphal cry of “Oh yes!” I grunted as I felt his cock enter inside me and conquer any remnants of my manhood. He lay there in triumph for a few moments, savouring the degradation on my face. And then he whispered “Open your eyes boy”.

    I opened my eyes and looked up at the sneer on his face, my cheeks burning in shame as I contemplated that his cock was inside me and I was his bitch. “Keep your eyes looking at me bitch while I fuck you, or I will give your balls a caning they wont forget. I want you to look into my eyes as I breed your pussy hole, you faggot cunt”.

    I stared into his eyes as I felt his cock begin to piston in and out of my arse, an indescribably humiliating wave of pain convulsing through my contorted body as I take his rape. I felt another man fucking inside me and I felt my manhood disappear forever. I was being fucked up my arse like a woman or a queer and I was lying there accepting it, staring my Master in the face as he used me.

    I lay there and listened to the sound of his cock slapping against my body, feeling the warmth and the sweat of his loins as he pushed in and out of my once straight jock boy hole. I felt the power of his thrust power up my arse, reducing me to a bumboy, a bitch. I finally wiped away my tears as he shouted “Fuck you bitch!” and I felt his hard rod twitched inside me and flooding me with massive amount of his disgusting cum. I was his cum receptacle and I lay there, slowly lowering my sore legs as he pulled out. He stood above me and told me to kneel. Feeling my legs quivering, I knelt before him and felt my arsehole squelch as some of my Master’s warm cum leaked out of my hole and onto the carpet.

    I hung my head in shame, and felt the bile in my throat rise at the feelings of utter despondency. I had been fucked. I could never be a straight man again. I shook in shock as he casually wiped his cock clean on my stubbly head and chuckled.

    “Hope you enjoyed that faggot. Your little cunt is going to get an awful lot of use in your new lifestyle.”

    I knelt there in misery, the cum dribbling steadily onto the floor beneath me from my abused pussy hole as he grabbed a towel and moved towards the bathroom.

    “Will be nice to fuck my bitch every morning before work”, he laughed as he passed me.

    “At least you will be able to tell your boss you are getting regular sex when you present yourself this morning, eh bitch?”

    “Yes Master”, I whispered, wondering how I could run to work with my abused hole aching and my legs quivering after my pounding. I was nothing but an abused bitch, and I could never deny it again. In the time usually reserved for breakfast, I had this morning drank his piss, sucked his cock and then been pussified.

    I was a total faggot.

    Thank you so much for time reading my story. Please let me know what you think of this story by emailing me at [email protected] Audience feedback and encouragement are what makes me get up everyday and write these stories.

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

  • David: The Challenge

    “They’re here,” David said excitedly as he moved from the window to get the door.

    I heard the car stop in the driveway and my heart pounded in my throat. Was I ready to meet David’s parents? What would their reaction be, meeting their son’s fucker? And David’s brother? Was he as cute as David? Was he also gay? Or would they all be judging us despite the fact that David had told me that they were tolerant and understanding?

    Fuck it! I really was not ready to be paraded. Damn David for putting me in this position. I knew I would take it out on his ass later. I would fuck him senseless. I would split his ass. No mercy. I would… Shit, but I loved the guy. That was why I had relented and accepted the visit. But I still felt funny meeting the family. I wondered how his father and brother would treat me. I knew that David’s mom would be sweet and everything, like all moms. But the men in the family might look at me in a different light. I heaved and waited for the inevitable.

    Que sera sera, what will be will be.

    As David went out to welcome his family, I sauntered over to the kitchen to check on the coq au vin in the oven. We weren’t sure what to prepare, so I suggested the chicken in the oven, perhaps the safest. Besides, I shouldn’t really worry. David would have known, wouldn’t he? The bastard!

    I had made it a point to dress traditionally. Dress pants—the only decent pair I had other than jeans—and a button-down shirt—also the only dress shirt that I had. I took off my silver bracelet that looked sexy on my wrist and the pendant with the green emerald stone that one of my past lovers had gotten me. I should look as straight as possible, not leaving room for criticism. Shit!

    David, however, was in cut-off faded jeans knee-shorts and a t-shirt with the half-sleeves torn off, displaying his muscled pecs. He looked delicious.

    “And this is Ed,” David said, leading his family inside. “Ed, meet Martha and Ian and my brother, Ethan.”

    I was in a daze, unable to say anything coherent except what sounded like “pleased to meet you” kind of thing.

    Ethan pressed on my hand as we shook. I looked up at his face and my heart skipped a beat. He was a god! David looked nothing like his brother. I was able to tell that Ethan took after his dad, and that Ian was an extremely good-looking man. Martha wasn’t bad either, and David took his looks from her. But Ethan had more masculine features, a chiseled chin, high cheeks, thick eyebrows, piercing eyes, unlike David who although not totally effeminate did send through some femininity.

    “Smells delicious,” David’s mom said as we all settled down in the living room. “What are you two boys cooking?”

    “Nothing like your cooking, Mom,” David wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder lovingly.

    My heart went out to my lover. He looked so happy, so proud. I realized how much this must have meant to him. And I kicked myself for having had so many doubts. They all seemed relaxed and comfortable. I had no reason to worry. Still my palms sweated.

    There was small talk. The atmosphere remained easy and relaxed, much to my surprise.

    David and I excused ourselves and went to the kitchen to check on the food.

    “Well?” David said, holding onto my arm, squeezing, desperate for my approval.

    “Well what?” I teased.

    “Come on, Eddie, don’t be an asshole. What do you think?”

    “Ethan is hot,” I leered.

    David’s jaw dropped and his eyes got wide.

    “Are you hitting on my brother? Ed? Are you?”

    There was anger in his eyes.

    “Whoa, Davey, baby, you are my lover,” I said appeasingly. “Don’t get so riled up. I was just stating a fact. Your brother is hot.”

    At that precise moment, Ethan entered the kitchen, and my last sentence hung in the air.

    Ethan looked from David to me back to David. Fuck! He looked extremely sexy.

    Both David and I were speechless, holding our breath. Ethan had to have heard me.

    “Not the first time I hear that,” Ethan said easily, smiling.

    We exhaled our relief.

    “And it would be nice if Ed, here, would hit on me,” he added, and we froze.

    Ethan again looked at David then at me and then back at David.

    “Come on, bro,” he took a couple of steps towards David. “I’m not taking your lover away from you, as much of a hunk as he is.”

    Ethan stared at me and smiled.

    Oh, man! David was frozen.

    Ethan reached David and they hugged. I just stood there.

    “Join the hug, Ed.” Ethan!

    Jesus. Join the fucking hug? Two brothers, one of them my lover and the other sexy as fuck?

    David broke the hug. “Ethan, get the fuck out of here, man. Go back to Mom and Dad.” He was livid.

    Ethan, still smiling sexily, turned and left the kitchen.

    “Davey,” I said as I pulled David to me. “I love you, baby.”

    It was the first time I said the love-word, and David knew it. I had just raised our relationship to a new level. But should David be the only one in this relationship to be a challenge? I needed to prove to him that I could be a challenge also.

    “But you have to admit that Ethan is fucking hot,” I said, expecting David to slap my face or turn and stomp out or something dramatic like that.

    Instead, he smiled. “I know, Ed. I know. He’s a looker and his dick is even hotter.”

    “Huh?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “Have you seen your brother naked?”

    “And hard,” David’s smile got wider.

    And I had thought that I was going to top David’s challenges. How little did I know about my lover-boy!

    “You two …?” I wasn’t able to finish, and my breath was taken away when David nodded.

    I was flabbergasted. Something came over me. My balls tingled. Without hesitation I blurted: “Tell Ethan that he can share our bed tonight.”

    “Oh, no,” David shook his head. “He’s not going to take you away from me.”

    “No one can take me away from you, baby. I have just told you: I love you, you little prick. I do. But what’s wrong with a little fun? Huh? Come on. Tell him I said that he could join us in bed. Let’s you and me give Ethan an unforgettable night, huh? After all, you just said that you two fucked.”

    “I didn’t say that,” David said. “I said I have seen him naked and hard.”

    “And you are telling me that you guys didn’t fuck?”

    “Well,” David hesitated, starting to turn red. “I did hold his dick in my hand.”

    “And…?” I persisted.

    “And… and I jerked him off.”

    “That’s it?” I smiled, starting to get really horned.

    “Uhuh.”

    “Well, then. I believe it’s time to do some more with Brother Ethan.”

    “Ethan said yes,” David whispered in my ear about a half an hour later as we were setting the table.

    I glanced towards Ethan, and he winked at me. I again felt my balls twitch in anticipation. I was going to do the two brothers and I got horned just thinking about it.

    Dinner went well. David’s parents were great. Ethan looked totally edible. I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over.

    After mom and dad—I was already thinking of them as family—went to bed, the three of us, Ethan, David and I, lounged for a while, the electricity building.

    Ethan moved from his chair and sat between me and David on the couch, squeezing himself. Our thighs pressed against each other. I trembled all over when Ethan placed his hands on our thighs. I placed my arm around his shoulder, my hand grabbing David’s arm, caressing him, putting him at ease, as I watched Ethan snake his hand up to my crotch. I leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Ethan’s other hand was also groping his brother’s crotch. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the sensations as Ethan returned my kiss with his tongue, his hands fondling two erecting young crotches.

    Fuck! This was way hotter than hot. I erected hard and fast under Ethan’s hand. David was on the other side, licking Ethan’s neck, rubbing on Ethan’s dick. We made out, alternating, kissing, rubbing each other, our testosterone filling the room with musk.

    “Whoa,” Ethan broke from a heavy deep-tongue kiss with David. “Men, let’s go in and get more comfortable. My dick is going to break inside my briefs.”

    “We don’t want that to happen, do we?” I joked as I pulled him up by the hand, and bent to kiss David’s lips.

    “David,” I said, “you taste better than usual, baby.”

    Ethan laughed. “Guys, come on. Stop teasing.”

    In my bedroom, with mom and dad just one wall away, we shed off our clothes and lay naked on the double bed, three horny guys ready for some hot action, our cocks hard and throbbing. Ethan naked looked more god-like than Ethan dressed. I ogled the two naked brothers, my eyes almost popping out of my head, my cock aching for service.

    David started by licking around my balls and fisting my cock, as if to prove to his brother that I was his property, that I was his territory, and whatever we were going to do tonight would not change that. Ethan and I resumed our kissing. In no time, David was alternating between our two cocks. David was hungry for cock. I was amazed that a guy would lust for his own brother. For me, the concept was foreign, but the more we made out, the more natural it looked. What really helped was the fact that the two brothers didn’t look like each other. They looked like two hot, sexy men.

    I couldn’t get enough of the super-sexy Ethan. I slurped on his lips, his chin, his face. His hand caressed my hairy chest, teased my nipples. David moved his tongue to my ass crack and the warmth streamed throughout my body. Ethan slid down to replace David on my throbbing dick. He slurped on it hungrily. Looking down, I watched the two brothers servicing me, sucking, licking, kissing each other, and then back to my hole and cock.

    The streams that burst out of my cock almost hit the ceiling. Squirt after squirt exploded from my nuts through my cock slit, hitting the two brothers in the face. I didn’t want to cum so soon, but I just couldn’t hold back. I erupted with force in spite of my trying to control my ejaculation.

    I couldn’t breathe. I tried to force air through my lungs, but Ethan and David continued their licking and suckling on my pulsating, sensitive cock head. It took me forever to settle into some kind of normalcy.

    In no time, I found myself sandwiched between the two hot brothers. I had deep feelings for David, other than just physical and sexual. But with Ethan, it was all sexually erotic, especially since I was being serviced by the two of them.

    I sucked on Ethan’s cock, I kissed Ethan’s lips, I licked Ethan’s balls, I rimmed Ethan’s hole, I fucked Ethan’s ass and filled him with my semen.

    David’s surprise of bringing his family over, knowing that his brother would not be averse so some action, took me to heights in sex which I had never experienced. The sex was out of this world. For the whole weekend, the three of us went through all positions possible that three horny young guys could take. It wasn’t just the fucking and sucking. It was the making out, my watching the two brothers make love to each other, of watching me making love to the two brothers.

    “Ok, David,” I said to my hot lover as we waved goodbye to his family. “Now what?”

    “You have no idea, baby,” he smiled at me mischievously.

    Fuck me! David was my real challenge. But for now, he would be under me, fucked blind. I pulled him inside, straight to the bedroom, and fucked him blind.

    This is it for David and Ed. Thank you for reading. Simon

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

  • Certain Type of Man

    Rest stops in the 80s were a mecca for truck drivers and gay men who cruised them. Some had isolated wooded areas in addition to the cruisy booths, many of which had glory holes. Often the truck drivers were married and just wanted to get their rocks off while on the road. Warm, weekday late evenings seemed to be the best for cruising. By the time I met Leroy I had much experience on how to cruise truck drivers at a rest area and sucked a lot of dick though the glory holes.  Then one warm, late, night I went back to a rest area where a lot of truckers went and met someone who I maintained a sexual relationship with for several years.

    It was about 2 a.m. when the steady flow of drivers in and out of the rest room had slowed. Something that I learned was to wear loose short shorts with either no underwear or a jock strap in case someone wanted to go into the woods and fuck a load out into my ass. I had sucked two cocks earlier, a younger Mexican guy who had a short uncut funky dick, and a middle-aged Black man who stuck his large cock through the glory hole next to the urinal when he saw me watching him. Both guys came quickly, and I swallowed their loads.

    I stood out in the back enjoying the night air when a truck pulled up. I was the only one left cruising so I stood a good chance of getting some cock if he was looking. When he got close enough for me to see him my heart raced in anticipation. He was just my type, stocky, tall, Black and middle-aged. He was a bit disheveled, typical of a truck driver, but in a sexy, mannish way. Despite being excessively excited I calmly made my way into the rest room and sat in glory hole stall nearest the urinals, hoping he would choose one close to it. Instead he went to the one furthest from the stall but it still allowed me to get a good look at his cock. When he pulled it out I gasped- it was long, fat and uncut. After taking a long piss, he shook it several times, then slightly bent down to see if I was looking. After zipping up, I thought he was leaving but instead he went to the last of four stalls, usually a sure sign of interest. Opening the squeaky door from the booth, I quietly went into the one adjacent to his. Instead of a glory hole there was a small opening where I could see that he sat on the toilet with his pants around his ankles.  I waited a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t taking a dump before I put my finger through the small hole.

    He stood up then played with his large floppy dick. “Meet me out back,” he said in a deep, southern tone while putting his dick back in his pants. I let him go first, then headed to the back area behind a large pine tree, trembling with excitement and the increasing coolness of the night air.

    We talked for a few minutes while he smoked a cigarette. He introduced himself as Leroy, who did a regular route from Memphis. “You going to suck it or we just going to talk?” he asked, looking at me directly.

    Not only was he physically my type but his demeanor was equally appealing. As I got on my knees, he flicked his cigarette to the side and pulled down his work pants. His cock was a good 7 – 8 inches soft. The long overhang of foreskin felt good inside my mouth, tickling my throat as I sucked the large head which was steadily growing. “Fuck that feels good,” he moaned as I slid my tongue inside the foreskin, licking the head while I sucked. As I blew him his actions wavered from gentle and considerate, running his hands through my hair and calling “Baby,” to rough and domineering, referring me as being a cock hungry slut.

    His cock had grown too large to give him pleasure so I stopped to lick and gently his low hanging balls, prompting more pleasurable groans. “Kiss it baby,” he said, rubbing his dick over my face. He was noticeably getting more excited the more attentive I was to him. He stepped back to unbutton and remove his shirt, revealing a large, meaty upper torso. “C’mon, get those clothes off,” he said, stuffing his hard cock back into his pants, them pulling them off

    I stood up to join him. “I don’t have a lot to remove,” I said, acknowledging that I only wore a tank top and flimsy shorts the took me seconds to take off.

    “You are a damn slut aren’t you? Truck stop whore,” he said, tossing his pants to the side, now standing before me naked.

    “Yeah, sorry, I said,” feeling slightly ashamed.

    Leroy approached me, slapping me playfully on the face. “Don’t fucking apologize. Shit, you are what you are, and I like it,” he said kissing me gently. “Turn around, let me see that ass.”

    I felt like I truly hit the jackpot here now that I knew he was genuinely a top. I turned around, awaiting his response.

    “Goddamn!!!!” he said, breaking the quietness of the night air. “Looks like you got some Black in you. And if not, definitely about to get some,” he said, firmly grabbing my butt cheeks and squeezing them. That would not be the first time I heard that pun. Leroy proceeded to hug me from the back, his half-hard cock pressing against me. “You ever been fucked by a Black man?” he asked, reaching around and pinching my nipples.

    “Yeah I have,” I said, feeling myself getting increasingly aroused almost to the point of orgasm.

    “Alright, so you like the Black cock. But I’m about to make you my bitch, you hear me?” Suddenly I could not hold back anymore and, without touching my cock, started ejaculating.” Damn man, I got you that hot?” Leroy said.

    “Yeah, you did,” I said, both embarrassed and disappointed.

    “Well alright, glad I have that effect on you,” said Leroy, pulling away.

    “We don’t have to stop,” I said, fearing he would no longer be interested. “I can go another round.”

    “Put your clothes back on, we’ll go to my truck,” Leroy said while getting dressed. I waited for him to get dressed, then followed him into his big rig which had a spacious, clean cab.

    “Nice man, this is impressive,” I commented, admiring the layout and orderly placement of everything as I got into the cab. It had a double bed, dim blue lighting and padded walls. It was the first time I was ever in the cab of a big truck and was surprised at how comfortable it looked.

    “Appreciate it. This is my life, man. And I’m a big guy so got to have the space,” he said while closing the curtains. He then reached into a drawer and pulled out a flask, handing it to me. “Drink up.”

    I took a guzzle of what was very strong liquor, almost losing my breath. Trying to gather myself before choking, I shook my head, indicating I could not talk.

    Leroy laughed, taking the flask from me. “Strong, ain’t it?” All I could do was nod my head. I watched as he casually took a swig from, it letting out a long sigh of relief.

    “You sure you should be drinking?” I asked.

    Leroy took another swig, handing it back to me. “I’m where I need to be, got until Monday before I have to deliver this shit.” It was Friday night, rather early Saturday morning so he had plenty of time to recover.

    “No man, I’m good,” I said, still recovering from the first taste.

    “Oh hell no, I am not going to get drunk by myself. You better drink that shit.”

    I took a second gulp, this time smaller to lessen the impact. “What is this?” I asked, still feeling the impact.

    “You never had moonshine? This shit straight out of Kentucky,” Leroy said, reaching out and taking the flask from me, then taking another drink.  “Take your clothes off James.”

    I slipped off my shirt, then my shorts revealing my nakedness. “You like?” I asked, not knowing what else to say as he appeared to survey my body.

    “Oh yeah, not a bad dick either,” he said, reaching out and playing with it. Leroy then took off his clothes, folding them before putting them away. I could not take my eyes of his cock as he maneuvered around the cab. “Your ass clean?”

    “Yes sir, cleaned the pipes before coming here.”

    “Good, I don’t like mess,” he said, sitting back, spreading his legs, playing with his soft dick. “Cause I will definitely be fucking you.”

    The dim blue light in the cab allowed me to see the details of his large, bulky body. His chest was large but firm, dotted with hair, his belly solid and equally hairy. But the most impressive was his large appendage which protruded from his hairy bush, at least 8 inches soft and near beer-can thickness. The rest of his body was proportionately thick, thighs, legs and feet. I laid between his legs, kissing and licking his growing cock, sticking my tongue under the foreskin. “Stop playing with it and put it in your mouth,” he said harshly. As soon as I slid his fattening dick in to mouth Leroy pushed my head down on it, forcing it into my throat and making me gag.

    He eased the pressure on the back of my head, allowing me to come up for air, leaving a trail of saliva. “Sorry,” I panted trying to catch my breath before he impaled his cock on my mouth again. This time I was prepared and took him into my throat.

    “There ya go. Fuck yeah!” Leroy yelled out. “Ain’t had a bitch that could do that – fuck!” Just as I was about to gag, he pulled out. “Don’t forget my balls,” he said, while starting to jack his dick. I watched him stroke his big meat while I coated his nut suck with my tongue, then pulling each one into my mouth. “Catch this nut bitch!” he yelled out.

    I quickly put my mouth on his cock and was instantly treated with a warm gush of cum that squirted out of his extended head. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he yelled, obviously enjoying an intense orgasm. Not knowing him I wasn’t sure if his cock was too sensitive to suck after an orgasm so I kept in my mouth, sucking softly.

    “You really like the black cock, don’t you?’” Leroy asked.

    I stopped sucking his cock to answer his question. “Yeah, I do.” I watched as he nodded his head approvingly.

    “Got some buddies that I could introduce you to.”

    “I’d like that. Truck drivers?”

    “Some, yeah. You ought to come on the road with me, you’d enjoy it,” he said, reaching for a pair of shorts, then pulling them on without underwear followed by a white T-shirt, which strained around his massive body. “Got to piss, coming with me?” said Leroy as he made his way to the driver’s side.

    “Yeah,” I said, putting on my scant outfit, following him out of the truck. Like a gentleman, he helped me down the steep stairs. “I’m good. I’m not a girl,” I said jokingly.

    “Sheeeit. I’m about to change that,” Leroy said, laughing, putting his large arm around me.

    I felt uncomfortable with this obvious display of affection but considering the size of this man and his confidence I felt at ease. “You’re not concerned what other truck driver might think?”

    “Nope,” he said, looking at me, his arm weighing heavy on my shoulders. “Do I look like someone who gives a fuck about what others think?” he said, releasing me while entering the bathroom.

    I laughed at the obvious answer. “No.”

    We stood at the urinal pissing while talking. Leroy had a naturally loud voice and I marveled at his ability to speak his mind about sexuality and how people should mind their own business.

    As we walked out I admired Leroy’s large body, how his T-shirt clung tightly to his body, his shorts sliding down, exposing the crack of his big ass, and the overall masculinity of him. He opened the door to his truck, inviting me in. As I climbed the stairs, I felt my shorts getting pulled down. “I’m getting up in here.”

    “Damn Leroy, you really don’t care who sees us,” I said, getting into his truck half naked. There were a couple other trucks parked and running so we were in plain sight.

    Leroy closed the door behind him then got into the cab, sitting across from where I was “I told you that, you act surprised.” He slipped off his shorts, revealing his hung, dark cock. “C’mon baby girl, you know you want some,” said Leroy spreading his legs.

    Although I never had been referred to as a girl sexually, the way he said it drew me to him.

    After sucking his cock to a full erection, Leroy told me to lie on my back on the bed. He got on top of me, kissing my body from my lips to between my begs, ignoring my hard cock, lifting up my legs and kissing and blowing on my hole. He reached up and turned a light on. “Damn that’s a pretty pink pussy. Make it wink baby.”

    ‘A strange request,’ I thought, but gave him what he wanted as I puckered my hole in and out.

    Leroy then began what would be a good half hour of talented licking and probing of my asshole, making me want more.

    “Please fuck me,” I whispered.

    “Going to have to do better than that,” said Leroy in between tongue strokes.

    “I want your cock inside of me,” I begged. “Tell me what you really want James,” said Leroy, getting up on his knees and sliding his erect cock across my hole.

    “Not sure what you mean Leroy,” I said, afraid that I disrupted the sensuous moment.

    “I think you know James,” he said, putting his fingers in my mouth. “Say it.”

    This man was mind fucking me which allowed me to give in to temptation and say what I was thinking. “Fuck me with your black cock.”

    “Oh hell, now you’re talking,” said Leroy as he opened a cabinet and brought out some lube, squeezing some on my hole. “Go on.”

    “Please put your big black cock in my white pussy,” I pleaded, and not in a disingenuous manner.

    “Fuck yeah,” said Leroy bending over to kiss me. “You want my black babies inside you?”

    “Yes, Leroy, breed my ass.”

    With that, Leroy began the slow insertion of his cock inside of me, stopping before he penetrated my second ring. “Nice tight ass,” he commented while lifting my legs further. “Relax, breathe,” he said, then, with an upward push, I felt the entirety of his cock slide into me. 

    I could not help but yell out as I felt like my ass was being split open. He bent over and covered my mouth with his, pushing his tongue into me and probing, just as his cock was doing. I was pinned under his big body, impaled by his large cock, completely vulnerable. As he began a slow grind the pleasurable sensations replaced the uncomfortable ones. “Feel good baby?” he asked, releasing his lips, looking into my eyes.

    “Fuck yeah,” I murmured, the sensation of pleasure overriding my ability to talk.

    What he did next was something I had never experienced. He had me lean back on my arms, then skillfully executed upward thrusts with his cock, slow at first then rapid, bringing me to sensations so pleasurable that I ejaculated hands free, shooting ropes of sperm over my head, then onto my face and belly.

    “Fuck yeah!” shouted Leroy, then seconds later roaring joyously at his own lengthy orgasm. After awhile we both caught our breaths, looking at each other and laughing at the amazing sexual peaks we reached simultaneously. “Come here baby,” Leroy said, sitting up.

    I sat up his cock still buried in my ass. “Thank you.”

    “Thank you!” Leroy emphasized with obvious pleasure. “Had you squirting like a bitch.”

    I was embarrassed by the mess I made on his wall, but luckily it was vinyl. “Yeah, I don’t remember ever cumming that hard. “Sorry about the mess.”

    “No worries, it’ll clean,” he said, kissing my lips softly, then looking at me shaking his head.

    “What?” I asked, unable to read his expression.

    “When you were cumming your ass squeezed so hard on cock, never felt anything like it.” Although he was still inside of me I could tell he was soft, but it still felt good. “Lean back and raise your legs, I want to see how much comes out.”

    As soon as I felt him slip out of me, I could feel a rush of warm liquid running out of me, adding to the smell of sex that already permeated throughout the cab. Leroy scooped out his cum and fed it to me, allowing to suck on his fat, rough fingers. “You’re damn freak.”

    “Hope you don’t mind,” I said, knowing he was enjoying it.

    “That’s it. Bitch, you’re coming on the road with me. That is unless you got someone at home.”

    “I do, but he’s away for awhile.” Leo was down south tending to his sick mother for at least another month so I had the time, plus I was on vacation from work. “So yeah, sounds good.”

    “For real? You have no fucking idea what you are about to get yourself into,” said Leroy, pulling his shorts back on, then tossing mine to me. “Let’s talk about it, but first wash up.” He got towels and wash cloths out of the cabinet and I followed him as he walked shirtless to the bathroom. We both washed up the best we could and agreed that I would meet him at a truck stop that following Monday for a two-week long road trip with him. I could barely sleep that night in anticipation of being with Leroy and his truck for two weeks.

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