Author: admin

I’d often see him in the drive thru: a young, well-built, yet petite black man who had introduced himself through the speaker as “Prince” in an adorable accent before asking what I’d like to order. I couldn’t tell exactly where he was from, but his accent sounded slightly Caribbean. Perhaps with any luck I’ll have a chance to ask him personally and find out. 

Of course he was obviously attractive, but me being not as open about my particular sexual tastes as others, sometimes even with myself, I didn’t really think too much of him that way at first. Though, I’ve always been very curious about such things. 

Even as a young man, some friends and I would experiment on each other from time to time. Growing up, I had always repressed these urges and kept them only behind closed doors, but when I allowed it to, my imagination would run wild. Around the 8th grade my curiosities began getting the best of me. I would sometimes sneak into my sisters room while no one else was home and try on her thongs to see what I’d look like in lady’s underwear. I liked it. A lot. 

Soon after, I’d fantasize about having a sugar daddy who’d use his many years of sexual experience to show me how to be an obedient lover. A few times in highschool I even went on Craigslist and chatted with a few men who had posted ads asking for submissive twinks to unload their seed into; though it never led to any real encounters. Just reading subjects like these online would force me to quiver in boyish desire. 

Despite my urges taking me to the very brink of self control, I kept my lustful dreams private, never telling anyone in my life about the pleasures I longed for in the arms of another man. There weren’t any guys in my life I had any real attraction to. I had plenty of sexual experiences as a teen with girls, and even married an absolutely incredible woman when I was 20 (who I’m still with), but despite all this there are still lingering feelings. Burning desires that have to be manifested in one way or another.

It wasn’t until just this morning when I saw him again in the drive thru window after taking my order through the speaker. For some reason, hearing his beautiful accent introduce himself today gave me butterflies immediately when he said “Hello my name is Prince, how may I serve you today?” After ordering my usual large black coffee I drove up to the window and there he was, standing behind a nice girl who was putting my purchase through, but I saw him look me directly in the eye. 

He smiled adorably and gave me a cutesy little wave, twiddling his fingers in a very feminine manner. That was the moment: the very first time I had ever seen another man in person and wanted their naked body wrapped in mine. I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I’m still so new to the whole idea. And this time, my desire was not to be the one giving my virgin body over to an older man to be used. 

This was the very first time I had ever felt the urge to be the dominant one. I wanted this man’s beautiful naked frame perched up on all fours, bent over and begging to be pounded. I had never met him outside of the drive thru. I had no idea if he was even gay, but there was just something about him that sparked a newfound desire inside of me. Throughout the day it’s been haunting me. I sit here in my desk at work holding myself back from either getting a load out in a bathroom stall or actually driving back there to talk to this kid. He was gorgeous. Like nothing I have ever seen before. With an accent that would make your heart melt and your cock as hard as ever. 

I fantasize about a scenario where he does turn out to be gay and not only that, but he’s eager. He gives me his number on the back of a receipt with a note saying he’s off in an hour. I come back, pick him up, take him to a motel after he anxiously gives me a little tease of road head on the way. 

We go inside, he throws me down on the bed and yanks down my pants with an effortless tug. Without wasting a second his lips are wrapped around my cock, which is already about to overflow. I can feel his tongue softly sliding up and down the shaft, making its way to the head before engulfing it entirely down his throat. 

He’d take it out only for a second to say “I want to make sure it’s nice and wet to slide in more easily.” And with a brief wink return to his desired duty. I’d do my best to resist a premature orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of this angel. After long, passionate oral service, my sweet Prince strips down nice and slowly for me revealing a mesh man-thong with a hole right over the center of the crack of his sculpted behind. 

He kisses my toes, then my leg, then my pelvis, then my chest, then my neck, and finally before reaching my lips, he seats his perfectly round little ass right over my upright cock and plunges it deep inside of him with a high pitched yelp, followed by a sighing moan of utter satisfaction. After several minutes of him gyrating his hips and bouncing those plump little butt cheeks up and down on my cock, I’d flip him right over, laying face down on the bed saying “so you like it rough, do you boy? Let me show you how to play rough.” With that I’d hold down his wrists against the mattress firmly and thrust as far as my cock will go into his tight little hole, until I feel my pelvis pressing firmly against the cushioning of his ass. 

At that point Id take complete control and forcefully impale his tight man-hole as hard as I could, time and time again, while he’d let out moans and screams of uncontrollable pleasure until together, we release our loads at the exact same time: his thick black mamba filling the cloth of the tight-fitting little twink thong with a gush of pearly white nectar. Me sending what feels like a full pint of my cum coursing through his sweet rectum. After several more passionate love sessions in every position we could possibly think of, our two naked bodies glistening with sweat and cum would fall back into the bed. I’d wrap my arm around his shoulders and hold him close as we’d passionately make out until morning; our consistently erect penises never leaving the warmth and gentle caress of the other’s soft touch. 

I can only hope my sweet Prince and I will be together someday, but at the risk of coming off like a total creep, I’ll probably just keep my desires to myself like always…

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This was the fourth year in a row I was attending the State U. alumni athletic auxiliary “meet the players” fundraising banquet. Call it school spirit for my alma mater, if you like, but it basically boiled down to being a huge State football fan and having money to burn. I was hitting my stride professionally, as chief financial officer of a growing regional gas station company. My growing salary kept the wife and kids more or less content, and my penthouse office and golf-on-Wednesdays schedule kept me happy.

These banquets were essentially a who’s who of the city’s business community, the guest list a rolodex of the big players in the Chamber of Commerce and city business planning committee. I was hardly the only diehard fan of the State ball team here.

Normally, I’m seated next to other contributors, but I guess the extra mid-year topoff gift I gave had perks, cause this year I was sitting next to none other than Mike Herrick. Herrick was the sophomore phenom already working wonders in State’s offensive line, with hunky looks and a clean cut image to boot. Sincere, confident, FCA, faith-and-family, decent student, the whole works. Essentially an NCAA PR guy’s wet dream.

Here he was, his broad shouldered frame dressed in Sunday suit and tie, unfurling his napkin, and shaking my hand.

“Hello, sir. I’m Mike Herrick.” Nineteen years old, dirty blonde, round cheeked, with a slight beak nose. Poster-boy jock. Let’s just say those forbidden thoughts were flooding in hard and fast.

“I know very well who you are,” I replied, laughing. “you’re the golden boy and our great hope for a championship this year.”

That made the boy blush. “Aw, sir, I can’t take that kinda credit. Blake is driving this team.” Blake Cates, senior, was quarterback and team captain.

“What about those internet photos?” I asked. Cates was a party boy and some photos from a naked grabass session in Cancun were making the rounds.

“Yeah,” he mused. “The team just ignores all that stuff. Coach tells us to stay focused on the game and not what the newspapers are saying.”

“We fans should do the same.”

“Well, sir, State’s got the best fans.” He clinked my scotch and soda with his iced tea glass.

“Golden Boy, if I didn’t know you better then I’d think you were trying to butter up a donor.”

That made him smile. I figured his mother was a beauty queen who’d passed along her dental attributes, or else some orthodontist had gotten enough work for a second-home downpayment. His smile was just that perfect, with teeth pearly white and mesmerizing.

“Ha ha. But you DON’T know me. And are you gonna keep calling me Golden Boy?”

“You look like a young man who can take a teasing. So yeah, I’m gonna keep calling you Golden Boy.”

His wide, mitt-like hands went up in a mock gesture of surrender. “OK, OK… so, what can I call you?”

“The guys in Finance call me the big boss.” I kept on my poker face, half expecting him to laugh or balk.

Instead, he smiled. “All right, boss.”

I wasn’t sure where this little game of ours was heading, but I was enjoying it. I was also grateful that we were at the corner of the banquet table, where the others in attendance couldn’t overhear. I had to remember to up my donation in thanks to the organizers.

We shot the shit until the university president and head coach took their turns at the dais, then the food came. And the conversation flowed like electricity between us. I was impressed at how down to earth, how mature, yet how deferential Mike was. He asked me about my work and detailed his interests in business administration, in case football didn’t pan out for a career. I figured he was trying to seduce more cash from a star struck fan – fine by me. The eye contact was furious, and his body was positioned toward me, legs spread, back cocked. This running back was flirty coed, glad-handing fraternity guy, and cocky jock rolled into one. I was loving it, returning his gaze and double entendres, raking my eyes over his form every chance I got.

I guess unconsciously, I was twirling my wedding band, cause he noticed it and asked about my wife and family. I whipped out my wallet and showed the photos.

“Ever cheat on your wife?”

It was a question that you don’t expect to get asked, certainly not in the middle of a fundraising banquet.

“Look, bub, if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, would I?” I snapped.

“Sorry,” he half-apologized, his baby blue eyes doing half the work for him. I felt the tension in between my shoulders retreat. “It’s just that, well, you’re built, handsome, and successful, and I wouldn’t be surprised if women were throwing themselves on you.”

“Oh you wouldn’t, would you?” Don’t get me wrong, I was enjoying this weird flirtation, but I couldn’t figure this jock out.

Until I felt him. Somehow, he’d kicked off one of his black leather shoes and was running his socked foot along the length of my ankle and up under my suit pant leg. I nearly spit out my coffee. As it was my heart rate jumped threefold and my dick sprang erect faster than it ever had.

The kid was staring at me hard, trying to read me. “Forgive my forward question, boss, I just had selfish reasons for asking.”

I clasped my hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently and discreetly so no one would notice. Damn, I craved body-to-body contact with this stud. I lowered my voice and grunted a reply, “Ah, Golden Boy, you haven’t seen selfish… I can think of a million selfish things I’d like to do with you.” My voice was just a hoarse whisper in his right ear now.

He laughed. “Did I tell you how much I admire selfish men? Guys who know how to take what they want. Without…” He stopped mid-sentence.

“Without asking.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” he assented.

Fortunately, the banquet was wrapping up. I knew I could arrange the appointments I had for the rest of the afternoon. I asked Mike if he had some place private we could go. Yeah? No roommate? Rock and roll.

So Herrick took me back to his dorm room, a personal suite. The athlete stretched his meaty bod back on the bed, and I lay down right after him, on top of him. My lips sought his, and he hungrily returned my kiss. I felt so damn alive at that point, so incredibly turned on, I started pawing his body like a sex-crazed teenager his first time away from a chaperone.

Mike writhed beneath me full force, parting his legs, gripping the bulk trapped beneath my suit, placing his hands on my thrusting ass. The guy might have been only 19, but he knew how to make another man horny as hell.

“Fuck, Golden Boy, you’re gonna make me your biggest fan, aren’t ya?”

“I’ll sure try, big boss.”

It went like that for the next half hour, making out with my dream athlete, State U’s great hope. The guy knew how to kiss, all right, but what he did with his hands drove me just as mad with lust. He tormented my nipples, my pits, the small of my back, as well as the big honking erection trapped in my trousers. Shit, Golden Boy knew some trick with his thumb and forefinger that had my meat stick drooling doubletime.

Finally, I couldn’t take anymore without spurting my wad in my pants. I pushed myself up and unzipped. Mike’s eyes widened when he saw my drooling tool. “Man, boss, you’re hung.”

“Not more than Golden Boy can take, I hope,” I said encouragingly, stroking, caressing his silken blonde hair and guiding his mouth forward.

He licked the head, tasting my salty sap first. I guess he liked it, cause very soon he was locking his lips on the round head and suckling away. It felt fantastic, but I was impatient. I pushed forward and was rewarded by his juicy mouth on my knob.

“Goddamn, stud, I was dreaming about this all afternoon. Aw suck that baby.”

He muttered his ascent with a mouthful of cock and proceeded to show me his sword-swallowing act. Herrick wasn’t the first person to take every inch of the rigid heft of my prick, but there hadn’t been many others. He sucked with gusto, bobbing his head voraciously on my bone. I egged him on, pushing his head down harder, talking a filthy chant of encouragement.

After ten or so glorious minutes of head, Mike raised up and wiped the spittle from his chin. He undid his tie and removed his shirt. His chest was powerful, strong, and dusted with a light coating of that dirty blond hair. Fantastic. My hands latched onto the hot skin and our mouths met again. He frigged my cock with one hand and rubbed the back of my neck with his other.

I then took my turn and removed my coat, tie, and starched shirt. At every step, the horny athlete moaned his appreciation and massaged my torso. When my shirt unbuttoned, he was on me like white on rice, gnawing at the fur on my burly chest, getting off on my clean, natural scent. I pulled my shirttails out and stripped it off, letting the kid go to town. Eventually he settled home on my protruding nipples – tender, eager, and fat. Herrick loved those paps, chewing and slurping and tensing them up into bright pink pointy nubs, signaling that my engines were gonna overheat soon.

Finally, he showed mercy and lifted his head up, giving one last swipe at my broad chest. “Big Boss, I was wondering…”

“Yeah, Golden Boy?” I teased, tweaking his nipples and watching his burly bod contort in pleasure-pain.

“Are you into handcuffs? I mean, I’m really into ’em, and was hoping… You know, well I gotta pair.”

“You want me to cuff you?”

“Yeah. Turns me on majorly.”

I arched my eyebrow. This was DEFINITELY not what I was expecting.

“My dad’s a cop,” he put in, as if that explained it. Hell, maybe it did.

He pulled open a nightstand drawer and sure enough, there were a shiny nickel-plated pair of restraints. I reached in and helped myself. He turned around, putting his arms straight down behind his back. I fastened the first metal ring on his right wrist, then cuffed his left. His arm muscles did a dance, and I was rewarded with the sight of his already big triceps bunching up and his softball-sized bis crunching and twitching.

Calmly, I put my hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him face down into the mattress. He looked so hot like that, lying servile, I could feel my nuts rise up in their sac. This was gonna be good.

I then began stripping his lower half, starting with his dress shoes, then socks, then finally his trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything on underneath, so I was immediately greeted with that fine, round ass, buck naked and ready to be violated.

I grumbled my approval and started running my dry, calloused hands along the smooth contours of his muscle, from head to toe. I took my time, savoring my prey before I partook. It had the consequence of working Mike up even more. I think he expected me to pillage right away, but having to lie there in slow anticipation was sheer torture.

“Oh, please, boss, I gotta.”

I took pity. On myself as much as him. That butt was round and tight, so it resisted my first attempts to pry the hefty globes apart. But he relaxed and I persevered til that beautiful trench was exposed. His cheeks were hairless, but the depths were dusted with his brown-blonde manfur, pointing and gathering around a nice, pink perfectly circular pucker.

I dove in. Hunched my mug right into his beefy ass pillows and licked to my heart’s content. Mike squiggled his body, trying to get away, trying to back up harder on me, trying to make up his mind exactly what the hell he was experiencing. Either Golden Boy hadn’t been rimmed before, or no man had done his ass justice. Til now.

I slurped and sucked. My tongue was a relentless muscle-organ, prodding at his the folds of his magic gate, teasing, insisting, coaxing it loose. That hole was sweet, and I ate away, til I’d soaked every inch of his rump and spittle coated my face. He was primed and I was ready.

I rose up, smacked my dick in my hand a couple of times to distribute the slick fuckjuice I was dripping, then poked it in between those smooth buttcheeks. Herrick clenched, then opened up, then dilated his ass as he got used to having my missile probe its way into deep, unchartered territory.

“Ungh!” the kid cried. “Oh, man, that’s intense” His voice was innocent and deep at the same time. I thought about what folks would think about his clean-cut image now. The more I did the more my prick was driven deep by insatiable hunger. I had to conquer this jock.

After I settled in and opened his tight asswalls up, I rode him. Grabbed onto his shoulders and thrust like a man possessed. First, hard, using him as my personal pummel horse. Then fast, with intense, quick strokes of my man spike, punching his prostate like a typewriter key. Then a nice, slow grind, making deliberate figure 8 motions with my hard wand. Whatever I did made Golden Boy hornier, made sweat and goosebumps break out all over his back, made his pale skin turn pink with heat.

“Oh man,” Mike cried, lifting his head up off the pillow, “you aren’t gonna cum in me are you?”

I shot. Man, did I shoot. I couldn’t have stopped that train if I’d tried. I creamed his innards, pulled out to spray his back and bound arms, then punched back inside and spermed some more.

Herrick didn’t get off… he was still hiking his beautiful butt back, hard, eager to be filled. Eager to grind his own load out from the inside out. I was still thrusting away.

“Got anywhere you gotta be this afternoon, Golden Boy?” I asked.

“No, boss,” he huffed, body writhing in sexual heat, feeding off on the frustration of being unable to use his arms or hands. “Friday’s our day off from practice.”

“Great. I’m usually good for a three-loader.” I pulled out, eager for a rest and eager to see the athlete’s face and front. I turned him over, admiring his flushed sexuality and throbbing cock. I started rubbing and worshipping his muscle.

Just as I began to hover around his crotch, I lifted my head and spoke. “Oh, and Golden Boy…?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I am the type who cheats on his wife,” I winked before opening up and swallowing his overstimulated hardon, which pulsed several times in my mouth and dispensed its hot, rich man custard, which I eagerly gulped down.

******

Great thing about an athlete with a squeaky clean reputation is that none of the fellows ask questions when he bails on the partying after a game. Good thing, indeed, cause 8 PM Saturday night I was right back in his dorm room, continuing things were we’d left off. I had Golden Boy splayed prostrate in front of me, his legs spread to make room for me in between and to spread those meaty cheeks so I could get a good sightline for my penetration. Don’t know why I love pounding young bucks from behind like this. Maybe it’s because it’s the opposite of missionary sex with the wife. This was raw possession.

“Hey Big Boss,” the kid huffed as I went to town on his backside. “You know, I don’t even know your real name.”

My lips curled into a sneer. “So? I’m buried 9 inches deep into you, Golden Boy, what more do you need to know?”

Herrick hung his head down and hiked his butt back, wiggling its way hard into my heaving crotch. “Nothing, sir.”

We mated in silence, til he hesitatingly spoke up again. “Boss?”

“What?! You wanna talk or you wanna fuck?”

“Fuck, sir. Only… I was gonna say… if you want to, well, underneath the bed. My dad’s old nightstick.”

Wow, this guy knew how to push my buttons. My orgasm rumbled deep and arrived hard. As my gasket blew, I curled my fingers into the flesh of his meaty asscheeks and pounded through it all. He’d have to explain my fingernail marks to his teammates the next time he hit the shower. When I came to, my vision was blurred and I was nearly out of breath.

I pulled out, still stone hard, and leaned back to survey the damage. My load was copious and sloppy wet. Those hairless muscle cheeks clenched furiously, working up my seed into a white froth. While I reached under the bed with my right hand, I pushed my left finger square on the target and felt it sink into the hot moist tunnel.

“I shot you full, Golden Boy. What do you think about taking your daddy’s stick with just a cum lube?” I teased. I pulled the hard-plastic truncheon up and lifted it to the light to survey it: standard double-strength police department-issue… sleek, shiny, and fat.

“Aw yeah, boss.”

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“Oh, FUCK!”

I got out of the car to inspect the damages. My rear fender was dented. Shit!

I was at the neighboring supermarket parking lot, backing into a parking space. Somehow, I miscalculated the distance of the other car and backed into it. I inspected the other car. Nothing! There wasn’t even a scratch. I scratched my head in wonder. I had heard the noise of the impact when I backed into the damned car. Well, at least I didn’t cause any injury. I wondered who the other car belonged to as I tried to estimate how much it was going to cost me to fix my fender.

A guy, carrying two brown paper bags, approached.

“Anything wrong?” he asked as he neared the scene, wondering about me standing right next to his car and scratching my head, the front door of my car still open.

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say. His car had no sign of an accident on it, but still, I did bump into it.

“It’s just… just…” I stammered. “I … it’s nothing really. I backed into your car and dented my fender.”

He came closer to inspect his car, raising his eyebrows. I held my breath. Maybe there was a dent that I hadn’t noticed?

“Doesn’t look like there are any damages here,” he said after he put the bags on the hood of his car and inspected the front side.

“Yeah,” I heaved. “But mine has a nasty dent on it.”

He checked the dented bumper. “Bummer,” he said, and I could detect the tone of relief in his voice.

As he ran over the front of his car a second time, I checked him out. I couldn’t resist it, even in the upset state that I was in.

Wow! I hadn’t noticed: this guy was a hot hunk! Taller than me, with a fuller body of muscles, light brownish hair, and stylishly dressed, the guy was a beautiful sight to see. My eyes went over his body as he bent and ran his hand over the paint job. I felt the typical groin twitch that I get when I look at a hot male. Somehow, the damaged fender image started to fade away.

Earlier that afternoon, Saturday, I had spent most of the time lazing around in my one-room apartment, with the TV on, mute. Lounging back against the seat of my couch, which would turn into a bed when night arrived, I watched the TV screen absently. There was a re-run of a sitcom, Friends, which I used to like a lot, especially Ross. For me, he was the definition of a hot guy. I loved his physique as well as his attitude, a lot of innocence mixed with a child-like character, in a hot body. The groin twitch then was very similar to the one I was feeling now, watching this guy inspect the two cars.

“Well, friend,” the guy turned around, “I’m sorry about this. I guess I got lucky, huh?”

Actually, I barely heard what he said because I was gazing at his front: tight v-necked fashionable t-shirt, tight, faded jeans with fashionable knee tears, and flip flops, not your regular 2-dollar slippers. They had the Adidas logo alongside the rubber strap, and I estimated at least 50 bucks for them. The guy was expensively, but tastefully, dressed. And his feet looked yummy.

He must have noticed my stare since he cleared his throat after a few moments and said, “I don’t think it will cost too much to fix the dent on your fender.”

His voice sounded appeasing for he probably mistook my gaze at his body as a look of frustration and helplessness.

“Have we met before?” he asked as I reluctantly moved my gaze back to his face. “I think I have seen you before, but I can’t place the where and when.”

My brain started to register after the initial appreciation of this hot guy standing in front of me. I would definitely remember the where and when for such a beautiful person.

“Ah…” I hesitated. I didn’t want to admit to him that he was wrong, that we were strangers. Also, I wanted this meeting to last, like forever. I was totally taken by him.

“Could have been here? Do you shop here often?” I asked.

“Yea. It’s convenient since I don’t have to drive far to get here. Actually, it’s a walking distance, but I thought I would drive instead,” and he pointed at the brown paper bags, still on the car hood, smiling. Oh, that smile! Straight, white teeth, a slightly curled lower lip, strong male jaw… the guy could pose for a Greek god statue.

My eyes now were glued onto his face instead of his body. Definitely my type: not the movie star type or the stud-type, but the chiseled chin, the hint of pouting lips, the straight nose, the deep brownish eyes, the everyday handsome look of the guy next door. All of this turned me on.

It so happened that he was the guy next door. And his name was Harvey. I was amazed when we discovered that we lived in the same building, him on the first floor, me on the top fourth floor. Strangely enough, we never met, and I had been living there for just over ten months now. How in hell could I have missed him?

I accepted his invitation for a coffee after we drove back. I decided that pursuing the chance of getting to know this fantastic looker was more pressing than my shopping. I could always do that later.

Walking into his apartment, and to my surprise, I found that it was a replica of mine: a one-room studio with a couch, a desk, a TV set, a small kitchenette with a counter and a couple of stools, and a closet bathroom. For some reason, I expected something more lavish, more spaced out, going by the tastefulness of his dressy-casual clothes.

“Excuse the place,” he said as he placed the shopping bags on the small kitchenette counter. “It’s a bit tight, but it suits me fine. I’d hate to spend my time cleaning and taking care of a larger place.”

I laughed. “It’s just like mine upstairs,” I said. “Except much tidier.”

A picture of my studio flashed inside my head, registering the cluttered clothes, the unwashed mug and plate, the crumpled sofa cover. I admired the way Harvey kept his place. Neat. Tasteful. I was really impressed. This was a guy after my own heart, let alone my dick and my ass.

“Hey, buddy,” he called from behind the counter as he took out stuff from the shopping bags and placed them on shelves and cabinets. “Just have a seat. I’ll be a minute putting this stuff away.” I noticed that he had already had the electric water kettle on, the orange light on the handle waiting for the water to boil. “Instant ok?”

“Huh?” I asked, not registering what he referred to, my mind more focused on his body movements, so graceful, so erotic! Again, the groin twitch, this time harder than before, and I could feel my pecker starting to awaken.

“The coffee,” he explained, and that smile! My God, what a beautiful smile. “All I have is instant coffee. Is that ok?”

“Oh, yea, sure,” I lied, since one of the extravagancies I allowed myself was buying coffee beans and grinding them fresh every time I prepared my coffee, using my French coffee press which a friend—my ex-boyfriend—had got me two Christmases ago. It felt too prissy, too gay-ish, now that as I was watching my hot neighbor, so down-to-earth neighbor.

I sat on the couch, turning sideways to watch Harvey. My heart throbbed, my cock quivered, my ass twitched.

“Could you turn on the TV, Mike?” Harvey called out from the kitchenette as he brought down two mugs off one of the shelves and the jar of instant coffee from one of the small cabinets. “There’s this sitcom that I love to watch even though I have seen the episodes like one hundred times, Friends. They’re playing old episodes. It’s on the Comedy Channel.”

I fumbled with the remote control and Friends came on. “Yea, I like the program, too. Actually, I was watching an episode earlier, before deciding to go get a few things from the market.”

“Oh?” Harvey paused, his hand on the water kettle. “But you didn’t get anything.”

Shit! What could I say to that? That he was such an adorable piece of sex meat which I had to follow home? That the few things I needed were nothing compared to getting invited to his apartment? What?

I adopted the shrug-strategy. “Nothing pressing. Besides, I was occupied with that fucking dent on my car that shopping was not what I wanted to do.”

Harvey poured the boiling water into the mugs, somehow not convinced. I could tell by the way he stared at me. Could he possibly see through my lie? Was he also attracted to me? I was nowhere near as good looking as he was. This type of young man could in no way be unattached, having his own place and apparently making good money to be able to afford Adidas flip flops.

As I watched my favorite Ross on the screen, I wondered about Harvey. Was he gay? Was he available? How could I know? There were certain signs that he might be gay: his taste in dress, for one. That was invariably a tell-tale sign. Also, what I detected to be a little nervousness around me. Straight guys are usually more comfortable with other guys. They are not thinking about dicks and asses, whereas we gays develop some degree of nervousness when our minds wander.

Harvey brought the steaming mugs over and sat next to me. My heart raced at the proximity. We watched the sitcom for a few minutes. What was I doing? I was here because I was attracted to this guy not because I wanted to watch some old TV program with him! All kinds of thoughts crowded in my head as we sipped the hot liquid and watched TV.

“I find Ross quite attractive,” I suddenly blurted.

“In a way,” Harvey immediately responded. “But he is too awkward in his movements.”

“Well, that’s what I like about him.”

What was I saying? Shit! I was coming out to this guy about liking men, that way! I decided that what the fuck: why not? What did I have to lose? On the other hand, I had all sorts of hot things to gain if Harvey turned out to be as I had been praying he would be.

“Oh?” Harvey turned from the TV screen to look at me, sideways. He had such a lovely profile! And that was the second time I say something and he answers with an interrogative “oh” waiting to be developed further.

“Yea, I like body movement. In a way, it turns me on,” I confessed.

Harvey placed his mug on the coffee table and bent one leg under him, his knee almost touching my thigh. “Tell me more about this, Mike,” he said, the look on his face definitely interested.

“Nothing to tell, Harve,” I said. “It’s just that the human body intrigues me. I find the way Ross moves… well, nice.” I wanted to say erotic, exciting, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “You were also watching me, you know, as I was putting away stuff,” he said, meaningfully.

I nodded, and looked down to notice that his knee had slid to cover the inches separating it from my thigh. I felt the light pressure, and my heart raced. Unconsciously, I leaned towards him. I was rewarded with a similar movement from him towards me, and our lips met. My heart pounded and my dick throbbed. As we kissed, I was only faintly aware of the canned audience laughter coming out of the TV, of the mugs of coffee abandoned on the coffee table. I only felt the touch of the sweet warm lips on mine, of his tongue starting to probe.

I placed my hand on the back of Harvey’s head as he rubbed up and down my thigh. Thousands of thoughts crowded inside my head, but I pushed them away, concentrating on the thousands of sensations I was receiving from this guy’s lips. Slowly, as if in slow motion, I found myself sliding back on the couch as Harvey crept on top of me. Our bodies pressed. His erection was unmistakable as it humped my crotch meeting my own hard dick, our clothes the only barrier between our bodies. Our mouths were glued to each other as we slobbered and sucked.

With a sigh, after what it seemed like ages, we broke.

Harvey got off me, his jeans bulging with his erected penis. Breathlessly, I watched him reach for the remote control and mute the TV set, wrapping us in silence, our heavy breathing accentuating our heat for each other. He took off his tight v-shirt, exposing the most delicious man chest I had ever laid eyes on: a hair patch between his nipples, thinning to a delicious hair trail. He undid the top two buttons of his jeans, exposing more of the hair trail. I was almost ready to explode in my own jeans as my eyes feasted on this beautiful body.

He helped me take off my shirt. He placed his hand on my hairy chest, running his fingers through the hair and towards my nipples, down my trail, farther down to grope my crotch, feeling my hardness. I thrust up into his hand and pulled him back down on top of me. Bare-chested, we lay on top of each other resuming our kissing, which developed into more intense lip and tongue sucking and more urgent hand caressing and probing. I felt that I was being scorched by his body heat.

We fumbled on each other’s jeans, pulling them down, kicking them off. Again, the kissing and humping resumed, heat emanating through our underwear fabric, our cocks rubbing on each other, some wetness starting to seep through the cotton.

“I want to look at you naked, Mike,” Harvey whispered in my ear as he raised himself off me.

I thrust my butt up as he pulled down my briefs. My cock glued to my belly, uncut, 7 inches in length, hooded head, already leaking with precum, throbbing against my belly. Harvey stood up and studied me as I lay naked on his couch. His breathing was heavy. His cock stretched his underwear sideways, reaching almost to his hip. I reached up and touched him, there, on his erection. He threw his head back and moaned.

Pulling down on his briefs, I pried his cock out, fisting the shaft, raising myself to kiss the head. Eight inches of beautiful manhood greeted me. My lips automatically engulfed the silken cut cock head, my tongue flicking at the slit, tasting his saltiness. His moans grew louder. I went in down the shaft. He was too big for me to swallow at one go. I didn’t want to gag or cough on this wonderful tool. It would be an unforgivable insult to this God’s beautiful creation.

I took him into my mouth slowly, up and down, swallowing him inch by inch as he bent and stroked my cock. I had to make him stop because I was starting to feel the cum building up for ejaculation. Not yet! Oh, not fucking yet!

I let go of him and moved away. He looked down at me quizzically.

“I am very close to explode, Harve,” I admitted, both ashamedly and proudly.

Harvey gave me another sweet smile and sat next to me as I straightened and dangled my legs down the couch to the floor, ordering my dick to slow down as well as my semen to ease back into my balls. Very difficult to do with beautiful Harvey sitting next to me, naked, erected.

“I knew it,” Harvey said, the smile still there, one arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“Knew what?” I croaked.

“I knew that you were attracted to me.”

He pressed his hand on my shoulder, sending shivers down my body.

“When did you know that?” I wanted to know. I needed to know if I was so transparent that people knew that I was attracted to someone.

“The way you looked at me, at my body, in the parking lot.”

“Since then?”

Amazing. He was able to read me like an open book. It was a scary thing, to emit such openness revealing my inner thoughts and desires.

“But… I was attracted to you even before,” he continued enigmatically, his smile widening, and I could detect the shade of a blush on his shaven face cheeks.

“When?” I asked with both eyebrows raised.

“When I saw you walking around the cars, checking for damages. Actually, it was the minute I walked out of the supermarket and spotted you. I lied,” he confessed, “about not meeting you. I have seen you many times getting into or leaving the building. And I have been thinking of ways of getting to know you better.”

He placed his other hand on my hairy thigh. My cock quivered in response.

“And now you do,” I said, taking his hand and kissing his fingers, licking and sucking on each finger in turn.

I watched him lean over and take my erection into his mouth. I thrust up to meet his lips, warm, wet, full of lust. As he bobbed on my dick, I licked his fingers, kissed the palm of his hand, ran my hand through his hair, pushing him further down my cock shaft. When I exploded inside his mouth, it was so intense, I felt my butt leap off the couch, driving my dick deeper into his throat, squirting loads of juice.

Harvey finally got off my cock, which plopped onto my belly with a sloshing sound, still throbbing, glistening with cum and spit. He licked his lips, caressing my balls and smiling.

“That was a quite a load, bro,” he said.

I smiled back at him, trying to regulate my breathing, enjoying his ministrations on my crotch.

I jumped when the shrill sound coming off his cell phone filled the room.

“Shit!” Harvey exclaimed in annoyance as he reached for his phone. “Hello?” he said into the mouthpiece, and I noticed the immediate oh-what-now look on his face.

Heaving silently, Harvey said, “Yeah, Rick, what is it?”

I tried to look away, grabbing for my now-lukewarm coffee. There was a pause as Harvey listened, one of his eyebrows raised.

“Look, Rick …” he started.

There were hurried, squealing sounds from the other end.

“Ricky …” Harvey tried again, and again he was interrupted.

More hurried chatter reached my ears, the squealing, whimpering type.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, RICK!”

I jumped at the changed tone and the raised voice. There was immediate silence from the other end.

“Look, baby,” Harvey lowered his voice, looking at me as he said this. Again, I tried to act unconcerned, but my heart dropped at the “baby” part. “We talked about this, didn’t we?” Another interruption, more squealing. “Fuck it, man. You keep interrupting I’m going to hang up. Just shut up and listen.”

Harvey was staring at me all the while this was going on. My attempts at pretending nonchalance failed, and there were definitely signs of interest all over my face. Besides, his face looked so fantastic with the look of consternation in his brown eyes and the firm pursing of his lips.

“No, you can’t come over, Rick.”

More squealing.

“Listen, baby, I have company. We could meet later.”

Again the squealing.

With a look of resigned annoyance, Harvey finally said into the phone, “Hold on a sec.” He looked at me with a questioning look, covering the cell phone’s mouth piece.

“We could take this up later if you like,” I whispered to him, reaching for my clothes. Harvey shook his head.

“No, Mike. Do you mind staying? Rick and me… we had a relationship for a while and we broke up. He hasn’t taken it like a man. I’d like for you to stay. It will diffuse some of the tension. Please?’

How could I say no? I hated the idea of sticking around and witnessing a lovers’ quarrel. But Harvey looked so delicious that I knew I would accept.

“Ok,” I muttered. “Ok, Harve, no problem.”

Harvey blew me a silent kiss and returned to the phone. “Rick? You still there?”

Squealing.

“Rick, ok, ok, ok, damn it. Come on over. But as I said, I have a guest and you can’t stay long.”

There was more chattering and finally Harvey pressed the end button on his cell and heaved a deep sigh.

“Fuck!” he said, sitting next to me, placing his hand on my thigh, his Adam’s apple bobbing in an effort to control his feelings, or maybe his anger.

“Thanks, Mikey. You’re a prince. Rick wants for us to get back together. But I have gotten sick and tired of his prima-donna attitude. Especially in public. He loves to put on acts when there are others around, embarrassing the hell out of me. Now he is promising to behave.”

“So you guys think of getting back together?” I asked with a trembling voice, betraying my trepidation at losing this beautiful neighbor of mine that I had just discovered a couple of hours ago and that I had just fed one of my huge loads.

“No fucking way,” Harvey exclaimed as he got up and pulled on his jeans and shirt.

I did the same, but without the underwear. I kept my shirt unbuttoned, exposing my fairly hairy chest. Harvey approached, reached out, and fondled my chest hair and my nipples. Stirrings of another erection started to shake my nuts and limp dick. I wanted to make it a point to this Rick person when he arrived that Harvey and me were already fucking, and that Harvey was already in another relationship. With me!

As soon as Rick walked through the door, I knew that he was the slutty, whining type, confirming my earlier impression resulting from his squealing over the phone: the type that flaunted his gayness and that behaved with such an attitude that would scare away most guys. I wondered what Harvey found in this guy to have a relationship with him.

Rick flew into Harvey’s arms, wrapping his arms around Harvey’s neck and his legs around Harvey’s waist.

“Oh, baby, I miss you,” he began with a slutty, feminine voice. “Please, baby, I’m sorry, so sorry …”

This went on for a couple of minutes or so until Rick spotted me, standing next to the TV set, my shirt open, my chest bare, the first two buttons of my jeans undone—on purpose! My hands in my pockets stretching the jeans to outline my cock better, making it more visible. His eyes went wild and he licked his lips as he let go of Harvey and slid off him.

“Hello, there!” he crooned.

“Hi,” I answered, making my voice go gruff and low, my hands half-way down the front pockets of my jeans, pulling them a little bit down, revealing more trail.

Rick’s gaze moved down my bare chest to the trail. He unabashedly bit on his lower lip as he saw the two open buttons of my jeans and the outline of my dick, now starting to elongate along my thigh. I looked at Harvey, and there he was behind Rick, with a smirk, both hands stretched out, palms turned up, in a be-my-guest gesture.

I usually go for the Harvey-type guys. The masculine look, the macho attitude, the body hair, the male physique: this is what turns me on most. But for one incomprehensible reason or another, I got excited by Rick’s unashamed appraisal of my body. He was eating me with his eyes, his long lashes, his mouth, his pouting lips.

Rick stepped closer, reached to grab Harvey’s wrist with one hand, grabbing mine with the other, and bringing them both together to his sides.

“You guys were fucking?” he said as he moved our hands up and down his sides.

The gall of the guy! Harvey playfully slapped the back of Rick’s head.

“Mike and me… we have just met,” he said.

“Oh, yea? Just met? And you guys are already half dressed? Or should I say half naked?”

Rick was impossible at how sluttily he described the situation, his eyes glued to my crotch, now visibly showing a semi-erection.

Harvey and I laughed. Rick certainly was direct, right to the point, no subtleties, no niceties. He saw hot men and he went for it, straight away. As far as he was concerned, a bare chest and a semi-erect penis inside a pair of jeans were enough for him to dive in.

Kneeling in front of me, he worked the rest of the jeans buttons loose and pulled my jeans down, exposing my dick. I took in a surprised breath. Harvey’s smirk went wider. Rick’s hand was still gripping Harvey’s wrist. He pulled on it and brought it to my chest. Harvey let out a moan as soon as he touched my chest hair, which he had been doing before Rick’s frantic phone call and after Harvey swallowed my juice. I realized that Harvey hadn’t ejaculated yet. We were interrupted before I had the chance of pleasing him. Now he was fondling me, lust all over his face.

Rick was already on my cock. He slobbered and I erected, fully.

“Uuuuuuu…” Rick looked up at me. “I can taste man stuff down here. Uuuuuuu.”

He shifted his look to Harvey: “You sucked him. You ate his fuck juice. You never did this to meeee!”

The little fuck had tasted the remains of my cum on my dick and correctly deduced that Harvey had been blowing me.

“Why would I want to suck on your pencil dick, Rick?” Harvey teased. “Mike here has a man’s cock.”

Harvey bent and licked one of my nipples as Rick ignored the jab at his dick size and wrapped his pouting lips around my erected penis. I thrust forward. Let the slut gag and cough, I didn’t care. Holding his head with both hands, I roughly thrust deep into his throat. Naturally, he did gag, looking up at me, his eyes starting to water. I pushed harder forcing him to swallow, not letting him pull back. Choke on my cock, bitch! 

The look on Rick’s face was both of lust and of fear. I released one hand off his head and held his chin forcefully, thrusting more meat into his mouth. He moaned between the coughing and the gagging. Snot streamed out of his nose as he tried to breathe, tears streamed down his face cheeks.

“Easy, Mikey,” Harvey whispered in my ear as he noticed my rough face-fucking.

I trembled at the touch of his lips against my ear lobe and the sliding of his lips down the side of my neck. I let go of Rick’s head and he immediately pulled off my throbbing cock, which dripped all over the floor with spit and snot and precum.

The three of us broke away from each other. We were breathing hard and Rick was actually weeping. Tears streamed down his face, his lips all wet, his face crimson red.

“What a man!” Rick, still kneeling, sputtered, looking up at me.

I had expected incrimination after the forceful throat fucking. But the little shit had enjoyed my thrusting down his throat regardless of the tears and the snot.

“Do you like it rough, Rick?” I asked, gazing down at his slutty face, fisting some of his hair in the palm of my hand.

He nodded, fisting my cock shaft lovingly. “Harvey never roughed me. He is such a gentleman. Aren’t you, Harvey, baby? The perfect gentleman!”

Although I enjoyed shoving my dick inside Rick’s mouth without caring about how he gagged and coughed, I still wanted Harvey. The way he blew me was more of a love-making act than of sucking and shoving. There was another slap on the back of Rick’s head from Harvey, now stronger than before.

“I’m so glad I came over,” Rick said, stroking my dick slowly.

“I’m not,” Harvey said, a bit angrily. I detected a little jealousy there. Harvey was watching Rick stroking me.

Rick let go of my dick and stood up, filling the space between me and Harvey. He stood sandwiched between us. Slowly, he turned around to face Harvey, his butt pressing on my crotch. He kissed Harvey on the lips, grinding his bubble butt on my erection.

A little bit unwillingly, Harvey returned the kiss and I noticed Rick pulling down on Harvey’s jeans and grabbing his cock. As they kissed, I managed to loosen Rick’s pants and pull them down along with what felt like skimpy, satiny kind of string underwear. So Rick wanted it rough. I pushed his back down and he eagerly bent over, taking Harvey’s dick into his mouth. I spread his ass cheeks, and without any preparation, entered him.

His muffled scream came out loud, his mouth full with man cock. But I didn’t hesitate. I invaded his body all the way to the base of my thick cock shaft, feeling his insides stretch against my throbbing tool. Holding onto his hips, I fucked him, hard and deep. His head bobbed up and down on Harvey’s dick, Harvey throwing his head back and thrusting his crotch forward.

It didn’t take me long to dump my load inside the bitchy Rick. My squirts hit him hard and his squealing and moaning increased in intensity as he felt the warm jizz fill his ass. I flexed inside him for a few moments and withdrew. He was still sucking Harvey. I plopped heavily on the couch watching the blowjob, my dick resting on my thigh, still throbbing from the rough fucking. My semen was seeping out of Rick’s fucked ass onto his thighs and on the floor. I smiled as I thought about the kind of cleaning Harvey had to do later.

Hearing Harvey’s moans quicken, his thrusts in and out getting more urgent, I knew that he was almost there. Instinctively, quickly, I reached and shoved my hand between his butt cheeks, finding his hole, inserting a finger inside the twitching opening. He cummed with a yell. More juice was added to the mess on the floor as it seeped out of Rick’s gobbling mouth that could not swallow the whole lot fast enough.

The room was getting stuffy, and I started to sweat a little. Rick was on the floor, shamelessly fingering the mixed juices and licking some off.

“You got what you came for, didn’t you?” Harvey asked Rick as he plopped on the couch next to me, our thighs touching, his arm behind my neck, his hand on my shoulder, caressing my skin. “You got fucked the way you like it, huh?” he teased.

And to think that Rick cared? He had a satisfied look on his face. His small penis was still hard, plastered onto his belly, barely over 5 inches long. He reached down, stroking himself with one hand, as he kept licking off the shit on the floor. He shot his load on his chest, two, maybe three short strings of juice, squealing his grunts with every squirt.

“Can I stay?” Rick whimpered. “Can I stay with you guys? Harve? Mikey? Please?”

Rick looked like a little puppy dog down there on the floor, still licking away.

“No, you can’t stay,” Harvey answered, a bit too rough, I thought. “This is how it is, Rick. Mike and me,” he looked at me, pausing, “are lovers and we’re staying together.”

I nodded in approval.

“Awwwww,” Rick complained with pouting lips. “But I love you guyzzzzzzzzz. I love your man cocks.”

“I’ll tell you what. You get the fuck out of here, Rick. Right now. And you never call me or Mike. And if you do that, Mike and me, we will find time to fuck you every now and then. Otherwise, if you don’t agree to all of that, it’s adios. Do we have a deal?”

Rick hesitated, a pained look on his face, but I knew he was considering the alternatives. He realized that he couldn’t keep Harvey as his lover, and that I wanted to be involved with Harvey more than with him. Slowly, he nodded his head, his lips still pouting, glistening with the man juices he had been licking off the floor.

“Ok,” he whimpered in a low voice. “But,” his voice got louder, knowing that he would be getting sex from the two of us, “you guys promise to do me, right? You promise? If I don’t bug the shit out of you, you promise to fuck the shit out of me.”

Harvey and I burst out laughing. Slutty as he was, eating all that fuck juice off the floor, Rick was cute as fuck. Harvey reached and grabbed Rick by the hair, pulling him up. “We. Will. Fuck. You. Rick,” he said, stressing each word. “Until cum explodes out of your ass, mouth, ears, nose and every other opening in your fucking whore body.”

The smile on Rick’s face was wide, stretching his pouting lips. “Awwwww. Harve. You are soooooo mean.”

We silently watched as Rick got dressed and left. As soon as the door closed shut behind him, Harvey heaved a sigh of relief. Grabbing my thigh, he said, his beautiful sexy smile back, “Let’s hit the shower, baby. I want to sample you wet and hot.”

We hit the shower, and we “sampled” each other, taking turns, two macho guys enjoying sex with each other, avoiding taking roles. We topped and bottomed and sucked and got sucked and all the time I was thinking how sweet it was to be able to find someone to have sex with on equal terms, and right next door!

Walking out of the shower, Harvey with a towel around his delicious waist, some drops of water still glistening on his awesome man chest, and me naked, dick and balls flopping around.

“You hungry?” Harvey asked, his hand caressing my limp cock. It was getting close to seven o’clock in the evening and we have been working so hard at each other and at Rick that my stomach grumbled.

“Sure am,” I said, kissing his lips lightly. “Hungry for you, baby.”

Harvey pulled away, letting go of my dick. “I’ll order a pizza. How do you like yours?”

“Thin crust, with lots of Harvey topping,” I smiled, my hand caressing his butt under the towel.

“Stop that, Mike,” he complained as he picked up the phone, removing my hand from his firm butt, “or we will never be able to eat!”

“I will eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and any time in between.”

Laughing, he placed the pizza order. Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting on the stools at the counter, facing each other, biting into the hot pizza, smiling at each other stupidly.

“You look cute,” he mumbled as he chewed the food.

“Me? Cute? Look who’s talking! You’re a fucking model, Harve.”

“No, really, Mike. You do look cute and I love the way you’re sitting here, across from me, gobbling on a pizza, all deliciously naked. You look more delicious than the pizza.”

We both laughed at this, and I felt the beginning of stirrings in my groin as this fantastically handsome guy complimented me and my naked body.

Finishing up, washing the plates—Harvey had to wash the fucking plates and put them away—we resumed our places on the couch and started making out. He was so hot that my heart beats were painfully intense inside my chest. Now that he got rid of the towel, we were both naked and hard.

“Fuck me, Mikey,” Harvey whispered into my ear, biting on the lobe. “Fuck my ass, baby.”

Did I need an invitation? I was more than ready. Harvey was on his back, his legs spread, his dick erected upwards, his hole barely visible inside the thick hair of his crack. Oh, yes! I wanted him, wanted to fuck him, deep.

I kneeled between his thighs and started to apply spit on my hard rod. Harvey reached for the side table and took out what I thought was a tube of lube. I waited, my cock head touching his fuck hole, throbbing with anticipation and desire.

My eyes went wide with surprise as I realized that what Harvey brought out of the drawer was not lube. It was a dildo. It looked like it was made of soft rubber, a bit thicker than my own dick, but much longer, and ribbed. I raised my eyebrows and slapped his butt cheek with my cock.

“This is not enough for you, Harve?” I said, a bit disappointed that my lover thought he needed more than me and my body and my dick.

“Mikey, baby,” He smiled, licking the head of the dildo. “As awesome as your cock may be, it can’t be in more than one place at the same time.”

“Huh?” I responded not getting what he meant, still not happy with the thought that we needed help from a stupid plastic sex tool.

“Fuck me, bitch,” Harvey uncharacteristically moaned as he drove the dildo into his mouth and sucked.

Somehow, the change of tone in his voice and the sight of him swallowing what looked realistically like a real cock, fat and ribbed, was very erotic. Forgetting about my man ego, I drove into him, penetrating. He grunted on the rubber dick as I invaded his body, thrusting all the way in with a steady, long drive until I felt the base of my cock at his balls, my groin plastered onto his ass cheeks, my cock head pressing at his insides. Holding him by the ankles, I started my fucking, slow but deep, feeling his fuck tunnel stretch to accommodate the thickness of my rod.

Harvey was sucking and licking on the dildo, taking it out, rubbing it on my nipples, bringing it up to my mouth. When he pushed it between my lips, I opened my mouth and gulped it in. This made me pound him harder as my cock got thicker with the feeling of the rubber tool in my mouth. I closed my eyes and imagined that the dildo was Harvey’s dick being shoved down my throat. I sucked hungrily. When I came, it was as if a huge part of my insides was pouring out into my lover’s body. I bit hard on the rubber tool, grunting and groaning, squirting inside the hot body of my sweet neighbor.

Flexing inside him, I reached for his dick. He took out the dildo from my mouth and rubbed it on his nipples as I stroked him. I noticed my cum seep out of his hole as he squeezed it out, preparing to shoot his load, my own dick still buried inside him, semi-erect, flexing. As soon as I noticed the thickening of his cock shaft, I went down on it, swallowing it all the way down to the base, my cock slowly slipping out of his ass. I felt his squirts hit the back of my mouth as he bucked deeper inside my throat, as if his juice went directly to my stomach. I felt dizzy with the intensity of his ejaculation.

Needless to say, Harvey and I experimented with a variety of sex tools. But in the final analysis it was our naked and sweaty bodies that counted the most, that were the most erotic for me.

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

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Things started changing after I made my brother cum that first time.

I noticed the change in Vinnie’s demeanor right away, and so did everyone else in the house. He was back to playing with the kids and being the patient teacher and babysitter they needed. He was pawing at his wife again, making Angie giggle whenever they shared a rare moment alone. And he was pretty much the same with me: giving me shit constantly but still happy enough to have me around. All in all, a big improvement over his pent-up asshole behavior the week before.

So basically, me swallowing my brother’s nut was like a public service. The guy just wasn’t himself unless he got off in a warm hole regularly.

And with Angie’s pregnant belly growing by the day, I knew she wasn’t about to let my brother stick her with his fat Italian sausage anytime soon. His usual housewife side pieces were quarantined at home, so I was pretty much the only option Vinnie had. I figured if I just bided my time the opportunity would present itself eventually. I was determined to make my brother cum again, but after last time I didn’t want to push too hard too soon.

I mean, he was the straightest guy I knew. Getting him to do gay shit with his own kid brother was a tall order.

But I knew I was on the right track when his wardrobe abruptly changed.

About a week after I sucked him off, Vinnie ditched the raggedy gray sweatpants he’d been living in since lockdown. Well, he didn’t ditch them entirely— he just radically altered how much of his body they covered. One day as I sat at the dining room table, helping a nephew with a math problem, my brother sauntered into the room in a pair of cut-off shorts. My jaw fell open as I took in his thick legs covered in dark curly hair. The makeshift hem fell just a few inches below his swinging bulge, clearly unrestrained by underwear. Only when I saw his meaty package did I realize that these were the same old gray sweatpants, now repurposed as straight guy short-shorts.

“Nice, dude,” I whistled at him. “You should do that to all your pants.”

Vinnie shrugged. “Less to wash,” he said, absentmindedly scratching his flopping junk as he passed. My nephew leapt up from the table and followed his dad, begging for a snack. I almost did the same, except my snack was swinging between my big brother’s legs.

Less to wash, my ass. As if he had ever touched a load of laundry in his life.

For the next few days I casually ogled my brother’s meaty, hairy legs in his latest fashion faux-pas. His thighs were thickly muscled with just the right amount of surface jiggle, just like his juicy ass. I couldn’t help but picture my face buried between those thighs, licking every sweaty, furry inch. Even his calves were hot, corded with veins and whorled with the same thick, curly dark hair. I memorized every detail of this newly-revealed flesh, from the patch of fur on the top of each toe to the scar on his knee from the bike accident when he was a teen. Though I teased him mercilessly about his “short-shorts,” I couldn’t be happier to see my brother’s legs out and exposed, growing steadily tan in the summer sun.

But I had to wonder: where did this new exhibitionism come from? Vinnie was usually so reserved when it came to showing off his body. He even wore his t-shirt into the pool, which I found to be both cruel and unusual. And I wasn’t alone— Angie constantly griped about “Grandpa Vinnie’s modesty” as she paraded around the pool in her two-piece, even at six months pregnant.

And yet now here he was, meaty gams out on display, strutting around all day in shorts that would get me kicked out of the gay gym back in LA. I swear, if he wasn’t the manliest guy I knew, I’d say he was a big ol’ queen looking to ride some dick.

And then I started to notice the best part.

Anytime Vinnie sat down, reached for a high shelf, bent over— pretty much any action other than standing upright— his testicles made a brief cameo. It was only a peek, a quick flash of wiry black fur over soft pink skin. His nuts were the most frequent guest stars but every so often the head of his dick would poke out of the ragged hem, just a brief peek-a-boo before my brother shifted his weight or surreptitiously tucked himself back in. He never acknowledged it, the kids didn’t seem to notice, and poor preoccupied Angie was too consumed in the daily domestic chaos to care.

It was just for me. Vinnie was flashing me, showing me his junk in the most noncommittal way— a series of accidental slips, too brief and casual to merit comment. He had to know I was watching, waiting, wanting what he had packed into those flimsy shorts. It was his passive-aggressive way of inviting me without inviting me. Some part of him wanted to be serviced and he knew I was game.

Why else would he wear those terrible cut-offs every day? And when in the hell would we get a moment alone for me to do something about it?

It was nearing the end of a particularly frustrating day— I’d counted nine ball-slips since breakfast— when the opportunity presented itself in the most unexpected way.

The kids were on a tear that day, a combination of too much sugar and being cooped up in the house for days on end. I was sprawled on the couch, already over it, watching Vinnie play monster with them. I took it as an opportunity to check out his monster, flopping heavily beneath the worn- out gray fabric. He roared, they screamed, I leered at my brother’s junk. This went on for a good twenty minutes before Vinnie finally declared defeat and offered to put on a movie to distract them.

Without fail, they all squealed out the title of that big popular cartoon musical— you know, the one with the ice and the singing and the usual bullshit. I groaned loudly in complaint and two of the kids turned on me immediately, attacking me as if a switch had been flipped in their tiny sugar-addled brains. Jesus, they really needed to cut back on the candy in this house. In unison they pummeled me with throw pillows, ordering me to watch the stupid movie yet again.

“Okay, okay!” I assented reluctantly. We’d been forced to sit through this movie dozens of times over the past few months and I wasn’t sure how long my sanity would hold. But it was always easier to just let the kids have their way than to try to fight them. They had us outnumbered and they never got tired… it just wasn’t worth the struggle.

“Sorry, bud,” Vinnie said to me with a shrug. “Majority rules.”

The kids roared in triumph as Vinnie fired up the TV and clicked through the streaming menus. Half the kids assumed their usual TV-watching places, splayed out on the living room floor with various stuffed animals and blankies, eyes glued to the tube.

But unfortunately, I had been targeted by the other half of Vinnie’s brood. My nieces continued to pummel me with maniacal glee like a couple of evil gremlins. My brother, happy for the momentary reprieve, didn’t lift a finger to stop his two tiny daughters from assaulting me with couch pillows.

“Get off me, you little brats!” I growled, raising my arms feebly to stop them. “If you don’t quit it, I’m out of here!”

They responded as one, moving as if they had planned it. My two impish nieces stopped whapping me with pillows and began to stack them atop me in an apparent attempt to bury me alive.

“So you don’t try to leave,” one of them said matter-of-factly as she heaved a seat cushion onto my lap. Again, it was easier to let them think they’d won. I didn’t fight them as they stacked me ever higher with pillows, blankets, and stray stuffed animals.

The familiar opening notes of the film blared out over the surround sound. Vinnie turned back to the couch, caught sight of me, and burst out laughing. By that point only my head was visible, the rest of my body obscured beneath a mountain of cushions.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” I asked dryly. “You’re next.”

One niece was already pulling him toward the couch, the other one clearing a space for him. “Sit down, Daddy,” the closer girl intoned mischievously.

Vinnie strolled to the couch with the air of a man on death row. His daughters hurried him along until he finally plopped down, exhausted and beaten, right next to me. They adjusted the pile of pillows, redistributing and adding even more, until we were both covered up to our necks. The only cushions left on the sectional were the ones beneath us. Everything else was carefully, if haphazardly, stacked and piled to our chins. Satisfied with their work, my nieces joined their siblings on the floor in front of us and settled in to watch their favorite movie.

I slowly swiveled my head to look at my brother, his face just a couple feet away. “So. Come here often?”

Vinnie chuckled lightly. “Yeah. Too fucking often.”

The first song droned on and Vinnie crowed along with it, purposefully slurring the words and singing in his monster voice. It infuriated the kids but it was pretty fucking funny. My brother always could make me laugh.

“Shut up, Daddy!” my niece screamed back at us.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to your father like that!” my brother barked back at her, his Italian coming out in a flare of righteous anger.

“Then don’t mess with the songs!” she fired back without missing a beat. She was a chip off the old block, alright. Vinnie grumbled a reply and the standoff ended. The animated princess or whoever-the-fuck finished her solo without Vinnie’s help and the two of us settled back in, resigned to our fate.

“Why do your kids love to torture us with this movie?” I asked after a particularly bad joke on screen.

“I don’t fucking know,” he replied. “But I wish I’d grabbed a sixer before they buried me. I could use a beer.”

“Dude, you’ll be asleep in two minutes and I’ll be forced to finish this shit by myself… again.”

“God willing,” he scoffed. I shook my head ruefully and endured the next few minutes in zoned-out silence.

Only when I heard his gentle snore did I realize that this was it… this was the moment.

Here we were, albeit in plain sight, but completely obscured beneath this mountain of throw pillows and cushions. The kids couldn’t be bothered to turn around and even if they did, they wouldn’t see a thing. Neither would Angie, if she should happen to stroll in, but she was too busy cooking and cleaning and enjoying her time without kids all over her… odds are we wouldn’t see her until dinnertime. It certainly wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was the closest I’d gotten to a moment alone with Vinnie in weeks. Suddenly, all I could think about was how close it really was.

My brother’s cock was finally within my reach.

My hand began to travel even before I willed it to, snaking through the cushions toward Vinnie’s dozing form. My fingers burrowed along the fabric until they landed on warm, hairy flesh— the top of my brother’s right thigh. Vinnie sniffed, turned his head a bit to the side, but otherwise did not stir. Nonetheless, I left my hand there a moment, resting on his mid-thigh, enjoying the contact. His skin was so warm and the hair crunched beneath my fingers as I ever so gently caressed him. I bit my lip, relishing this moment, searching his face for signs of waking. Not that it would stop me.

I had already decided what was going to happen, and I was done waiting.

Slowly I drew my hand up, up up along Vinnie’s meaty leg. The cushions between us shifted slightly with the movement of my arm but did not otherwise budge. We were buried deep and this moment was just for us.

Just in case, I glanced over at the kids.  The ballroom scene was in full swing onscreen… we might as well be on another planet for all they cared. It was time.

The temperature grew as my hand shifted to Vinnie’s inner thigh and drew up close to his crotch. The flesh was humid here, growing noticeably dewy as I reached the hem of his cut-offs. His crotch was pulsing with virility, his overcharged hormones making the air beneath the covers tropical. I fingered the ragged, scissor-cut hem of his shorts for just a moment before I sent my digits further. They sunk into the thick, curled hairs that ensconced Vinnie’s manhood and my own cock lurched in my pants.

Fuck… he really didn’t wear underwear. It was pretty obvious but still slightly shocking to feel my brother’s privates— his junk, his genitals, the part of him no one got to see— just one thin layer of cloth away from the world. And here were my fingers, relentless and greedy, determined to feel that secret place once again.

Only when I made contact with the sensitive skin of his nutsac did his eyes flutter open. He sniffed again and blinked away his catnap, then met my gaze. He must have registered the hunger in my eyes right around the time he realized those were my fingers caressing his scrotum beneath his shorts.

“What the fuck?” he whispered hoarsely.

I answered by plunging my hand In further, working my fingers from the loose skin of his balls to the fleshy tube of his awakening cock. It was hot and damp and the long, unkempt hairs curled around my groping fingers.

“Fuck you, bro,” Vinnie rasped urgently. “My kids are here.”

His eyes darted to his gaggle of offspring and I humored him with a glance their way. The little brats were transfixed on the screen, hypnotized by their favorite plucky characters and stale plot. “They could give a fuck,” I whispered back. “Just shut up, bro.”

I worked my way along his cock, marveling at the thickness as I wrapped him in my grip. He was a fistful and then some; I still hadn’t felt the head yet, and he wasn’t even fully hard.

“You’re fucking sick, bro,” Vinnie whined. His helpless tone of voice told me everything I needed to know. But he certainly wasn’t going to give in without his usual bitching. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing your own brother’s dick?” This last word he said almost inaudibly, as if the kids might suddenly take an interest and hear us over the din of the surround sound.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?” I retorted with a cocky grin. “You’re the one who’s getting hard.”

It was true. Already the column of flesh in my hand had become turgid, pumping to life along with his pulse. My fingers stuck to its surface as it grew hard and sweaty, begging for release.

“Fuck you,” he lobbed back. “You know I haven’t gotten to… ahh, fuck!”

I interrupted his ineffectual tirade by sliding my hand up his shaft and engulfing the head of his penis in my palm. The friction sent his eyes rolling back in his head as whatever straight-guy defense he was about to offer melted away into the ether. I was delighted to feel a slick of wetness ooze into my palm and used it to coat his sensitive head in his own juices.

Vinnie’s eyelids fluttered and his breathing grew stilted. When I gripped his shaft again it was like a steel rod, hard and hot to the touch. His gaze met mine again and I saw a hunger that matched my own.

“What if Angie comes in?” he asked helplessly.

“She won’t see,” I cooed, my hand stroking along his length. My fingers journeyed down to his balls and found them drawn up tight into his taint. Fuck, he was pent-up. I twined through his pubic hair for a moment before I resumed my grip and slid my hand all the way back to his head.

Vinnie gasped. His eyes shot to his kids, to the doorway, and then back to me. “This is so fucked up,” he muttered. His eyes plead for me to stop, or to go on, I couldn’t tell which. It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t stopping me, and I had come too far to stop myself. “It’s okay, bro,” I encouraged him with a whisper. “I got you.”

His penis pulsed as I stroked him to his root, then slowly dragged my hand all the way back to encircle his head. Another emission leaked into my palm. Fuck he was getting close.

A guttural groan caught in Vinnie’s throat. His eyes settled on mine and it was like he suddenly let go. I felt his sexual heat like a laser, focused on me with almost overwhelming intensity. He was going to cum and he knew it. He wanted it. His cock pulsed in answer as I stroked him faster and faster.

“That’s it, bro,” I said with a nod. “That’s it. Let it go.”
As if on cue, the fucking song started.
You know the one.

I would have laughed if it wasn’t so fucked up. I had my own brother’s cock in my hand, the manly root of my own flesh and blood wrapped tightly in my grasp. The cock that had penetrated Angie and so many other women. The cock that had shot out all five of those kids down there, and the sixth on the way. The cock that had ejaculated into my hungry mouth over a week ago.

I stroked it faster and faster, the shaft now wet and slippery with his pre- ejaculate. Vinnie was leaking like a sieve and his face was starting to scrunch up in intense concentration.

The familiar notes of the song filled the room and covered his whimpers. The couch squeaked beneath us, along with the muffled squelching of my handjob. If not for the pillows piled between us I would have buried my head in my brother’s crotch and taken his cock right down my throat. But there was also something so hot about the barrier, the fact that neither of us could see what was happening but only feel it. Something about the danger and the brazenness of it all urged us along.

Vinnie never tore his eyes away from mine. My own raging hard-on rubbed against the cushions, urged on by the friction but begging for more. I ignored it and focused myself fully on Vinnie’s pleasure. I stroked his eight thick inches relentlessly, from balls to leaking slit, increasing my grip and speed as I went. Vinnie’s jaw suddenly dropped open and desperation invaded his gaze.

“Fuck.” 

“That’s it.”

“Aw fuck.” 

“That’s it bro.”

We whispered back and forth to each other, so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. A fine sheen of sweat coated both our faces as the temperature increased beneath the pillows. Vinnie’s cock expanded until my thumb could no longer reach my fingers. The desperation grew on his face.

“Bro, fuck,” he begged. 

“I got you. Let it go.”

The words repeated onscreen, growing louder as the song reached its crescendo.

I stroked him harder. Slick fluid poured between my knuckles. On the downstroke I felt his nuts draw up tight. On the upstroke his head bulged. Vinnie stared right into my soul as it started, a mixture of shock and horror and unadulterated pleasure on his sweat-dappled face.

She hit the high note and so did he: “Uuuuuunnngh ahhhhh!”

I watched the orgasm play out on my brother’s face and felt it happen in my hand. Suddenly the tunnel of fabric around his cock became thick with semen, spurting from Vinnie’s cockhead into the confines of the cushions. Warm, wet, and gushy cum flooded the cramped space and squelched around my stroking hand. I couldn’t believe how much there was. Soon the entire length of his throbbing penis was coated in clumpy, sperm-laden fluid. His impassioned cry lasted about as long as the big note in the movie and elicited another cry of complaint from the kids.

“Mom! Dad’s singing again!”

Oh, if she only knew. I watched her father’s eyes flutter, his pupils lost in the recesses of his skull as I milked out his pent-up load. This was a few days’ worth of jizz for sure, extra thick from staying cooped up in his plum- sized balls for too long. It felt like I was rubbing maple syrup along his twitching length, thick and sticky and undoubtedly sweet. Again I felt the urge to throw aside our obscuring pillows and sample this load straight from its source. But then I just marveled at the tactile sensation, grateful for the chance to experience the earth-shattering orgasm of this powerful, beautiful man. The fact that he was my big brother only made it hotter— and more fucked up, and hotter because of it.

By the time he blinked away the final throes of his climax Vinnie’s jizz was already cooling along his member. My stroking slowed and I rested my hand along his drawn-up balls. I could feel rivulets of dad cum pouring down over his nuts and absorbing into the fabric of his cut-offs. Boy, I didn’t envy the clean-up he was about to endure.

I could tell that things were going to get awkward even before Vinnie’s expression changed. One moment he was lost in clouds of pleasure, hearing the trumpets of angels as he fulfilled his manly duty and sprayed his copious seed… and the next moment he was a straight father of five with his still-hard cock in his own little brother’s hand, coated in cooling jizz, mere steps away from his unsuspecting kids. His lip curled in revulsion as the realization dawned on him and his eyes shifted guiltily toward the TV.

So I decided that a clean getaway would be best. The song finished, Vinnie finished, and I was finished, too. I used my other hand to lift the wall of cushions slightly and withdrew my cum-covered hand reluctantly from my brother’s cock. I caressed his nuts one last time as I snaked my hand back through the open space, careful not to lose any of the ejaculate coating my skin. When my hand finally freed itself of the pillow-pile it was clumped with my brother’s cum. We both stared at it for a moment, marveling at the strings of viscous pearlescent fluid clinging to my palm, circling each of my fingers like white jelly. Vinnie’s gaze followed my hand all the way to my mouth. His eyes bulged as I sunk three fingers between my lips and noisily slurped off his emission, staring right at him all the while.

And then I was out. I tossed aside an avalanche of pillows and jumped up from the couch, careful to keep my other hand clutched over the raging boner in my shorts.

The kids didn’t even notice me leave. Angie never heard or saw, wherever the hell she was. Only Vinnie and I knew what had happened. I greedily licked the rest of his sperm off my hand as I sauntered out of the room, leaving my dumbstruck big brother to figure out his own sticky mess beneath the pillows.

Back in the RV, after I pumped out my own fountain of pent-up cum, I determined that next time we’d go even further.

After all, once was a fluke… twice was something else entirely. And now that I knew how easy it could be, I was determined to be my big brother’s cum-dump for as long as this lockdown lasted.

*  *  *

To be continued…

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By Jim Selfie. © 2020. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or repost without consent of author.

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I was watering my plants in the living room when the doorbell rang and there was my next-door neighbor Shawn.

No, it couldn’t be! I had just used my magic voodoo who do doll to bring me a hot man to have some fun with today. It had never failed me. However, it certainly could not be Shawn, my next-door straight neighbor! Or could it!?

Shawn had been my neighbor for about two years and though we only met once since I moved to the neighborhood, Shawn assured me if I needed anything to let him know.

If he only knew!

Shawn was about 6′ 1″ and medium-thin built. It was his beard that turned me on the most. Being Latin, I didn’t see too many bearded studs running around, but Shawn definitely was one of them.

All his tattoos and muscles were in the right place. He looked to be about 25 but I think he was around 35.

Either way, he was one hot man! The things I could do to him to make him feel good!

He and his girlfriend were nice to me but we rarely talked except for ‘Hello and Good-by’ when our paths crossed if he was going to work or to the store.

I don’t think he had any idea I could swing with the boys at times. If it was the right guy and Shawn was the right guy. But I always respected his sexual identity.

I hated when gays try to make everyone gay. A Straight guy can have numerous gay sex experiences and not be gay in the least bit. It is a thing of sexual freedom and manly choice. I had sex with a substantial number of straight guys who were married, had children, and girlfriends.

I think it was the fact I didn’t want them to do anything to me that made them like it and fucking me was always an extra ‘option’. Most guys I got so horny they either came as I ‘tapped them off’ or they would ask to fuck me and bust a powerful load in my ass.

It was just so more exciting to seduce a straight guy who would normally ask me not to mention ‘this’ anyone, especially their wives or girlfriends.

I don’t kiss and tell so all was quiet on the ‘gay’ front!

To get what you are NOT supposed to have is the best!

We all want what we don’t have and what we are not suppose to have, so seducing a straight guy and making him scream like a bitch while he cum like a bitch was the ultimate!

Shawn was not gay so I made sure not to make sexual advances at him though it would have been helluva fun to go down on this Black Latin Adonis!

As I opened the door, there was Shawn standing there in jeans and a tank top, his muscles just as tight and taut as ever.

“Fucking Mary Jane!” He said, “Hey, Bert, my girlfriend thinks I cheated on her so she locked me out of MY house! Can I stay over here for a couple of hours or less?

Shit, he could spend the year in my bed.

“Sure Shawn, come on in.”

“Thanks, Bert, ” he said, fuck he had remembered my name. “I hope I am not inconveniencing you.”

“Not at all,” I said. “What are neighbors for?”

“Yeah,” Shawn laughed. “That fucking Mary Jane thinks I cheated on her last night just because I had to work really late and got home late. We have been together for over 13 years now, she knows she can trust me.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, “Can I get you something to drink?” I was trying to be the perfect hosted, and living by myself I was always a little too ‘nice’ when I got company, I just didn’t get a lot of visitors.

“Yeah, sure a beer if you got one, I’ll only be here for a short time, don’t want to put you out.”

“No, put out at all!” I said as I made my way to the kitchen. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if Shawn ‘put out’ all he got!

I came back into the living room where Shawn was sitting on the couch. He had his legs spread apart and I could see he had a huge bulge in his pants.

“Thanks, Bert,” He said as he took the can of beer.” I sat down on the couch but on the other side. I didn’t want to run my handsome guest away!

“Man! That fucking Mary Jane!” Shawn started. “I was just about to give it to her too!” He said.

I had put on a soccer game I had been watching for entertainment.

“Look at this!” He said, pointing to his hard cock in his jeans. It was like a big snake had crawled up into his pants. He grabbed his stiff cock through his jeans.

“Man, she left me in an awful state of blue balls!” He laughed. He could see I could hardly take my eyes off his straight cock. “She abuses me, Bert, using her pussy like a weapon. Fucking look at this!”

He rubbed his cock and I could see the hard piece of meat get even harder. “Just touch that!” Shawn said taking my hand and putting it on his hard man meat!

“Damn, she got you as stiff as a board!” I showed no signs of removing my hands as I slowly took command of his dick!

I slowly started rubbing his hard cock.

“Hey, fuck that feels good Bert! You like that?”

“Yeah!” I said and just slowly kept rubbing his gigantic cock in his jeans.

“Fuck! That feels so good Bert! I didn’t know you knew how to do that Bert! You do that well! You want me to take it out?”

Was I dreaming? I just nodded my head as he stood up, unzipped his jeans and pulled down underwear and pants at the same time, and sat back down as I saw a glimpse of his hot muscular ass cheeks.

As he sat down his cock was hard as granite and stickup like a flag pole. I grabbed it again and began to slowly stroke it as I watched the huge monster leak cum fluid out the uncut head.

“Awww, Bert! You wanna jack me off!? That feels sooooo good! I won’t tell anyone and you won’t either right?”

“Right!” I said, ‘it will be our little secret.” And with that Shawn kissed me! I held on to his cock and stroked the mean meat that was ready to explode.

“Move closer!” Shawn said and he put his hand on my head and pushed it towards the head if his cock.

“Don’t you want to taste it, Bert? Taste it, Bert! Taste that cock man!” He pushed my head on top of his head and I just began to suck on the foreskin and then took the thick cock in my mouth.

Shawn threw his head back, open his thighs more, and shoved his cock into my mouth holding down my head simultaneously.

“Oh shit, Bert!” Shawn was pumping his cock slowly into my mouth lifting his ass off the couch as his cock disappeared down my throat.

I sucked on his meat as he deep throat me, moaning all along the way. I sucked it really hard for a couple of minutes before I came up for air. I went back down on the 12-inch pole rubbing his balls and asshole as I sucked it down. I tried to get my finger up his ass but he wouldn’t let me but he let me rub my finger around his straight asshole. I licked his balls and got my tongue somewhat into his hairy asshole but he wouldn’t let me lift his legs too far. But sucking on his asshole the best I could really get him going as it did all men!

I did manage to get the tip of my finger in his ass. He was so tight! I cam back up the back of his shaft and shallowed the uncut head again pushing the foreskin down as I sucked on his tender dick head!

“Damn Bert, I’m glad I came over here! He was jacking his cock. You want to take off your clothes?”

I think he was thinking about fucking me in the ass.

“I don’t mind giving you head Shawn, but I don’t think I can take that big thing up my ass!”

“I sure am horny Bert! You got me all worked up! What if I promise not to hurt you? Come on Bert!” He kissed me again. This guy didn’t know how to kiss a guy, he was so sloppy, his lips all over my face. Then he put his hands down my pants and tried to get his finger into my asshole. “I won’t hurt you, buddy, I’ll be as gentle as a dove! I fucked a few guys when I was in prison. I know how to do it! His voice was so convincing! His hand on my ass felt so good! What the fuck!

I was out of my clothes in no time.

Shawn sucked on my teats but only put his hand on my cock once to squeeze it and I think just see how it sized up to his.

“Come on, sit on it!” Shawn held his cock straight up and motioned me to sit on it.

I got some lubrication and rubber I JUST happened to have in a drawer nearby and I slowly worked my asshole down on his cock. It hurt but not that much.

Shawn let me take my time, telling me how good it felt his cock sliding up my ass. He said he had a fantasy about fucking me the first day he saw me.

Well, his wish had come true as I felt him pump his hard cock into my hole. It hurt like hell to a certain degree his cock was so big, but Shawn was gentle, pushing his huge cock into my straight asshole slowly letting my ass get used to the big log that was in it.

I was one crazy guy!

He only pumped his cock into me a few times before he stood up with me still planted deep on his cock! Standing up he was fucking me up the ass like a wild horse. I almost had to scream for him to stop because it was getting too painful! His cock was ripping me open but as soon as I thought I could take no more, he gave one last hard thrust and his cock shot its hot cream deep in my ass, soothing the pain.

He was a silent cummer! But he did let out his deep grunted moans and groans as his cock drained its cum into my ass.

He sat back down with his cock still in my ass.

“Goddamn! That was beautiful Bert!” His cock still hard up my ass.

Slowly as Shawn laughed his cum started to slide out my ass around his cock. I didn’t want to get up, but slowly his cock came out of my wet asshole.

Shawn got dressed and headed for the door.

“That’s our secret!” He said.

“Yeah!” I said. “Will I see you again?”

“You never know!” Shawn said, looking as good as ever.

“You know I love Mary Jane and would do anything for her. I better go and try and makeup with her before she really suspects I am cheating on her. At least with you, I have no guilty conscience! You’re a guy, guys don’t count! Gotta go man…and thanks!”

He was out the door as quickly as he had come in.

I was all alone again but enjoying it. It was possible Shawn and I could hook up again. Right now my ass was so sore fucking was the last time on my mind, but there was one thing for sure!

I loved Mary Jane, too!

I hope she remains a bitch!

And keep me in disgruntled Studs looking for some side-action!

Yeah, baby!

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I had gone to the bar as I usually did after work. I had met up with Tom and Joe; they were tops that I usually met up with for sex. We were having a beer and chatting. They had spoken with me about the upcoming bareback party.

“Fred, you’re going to the party, aren’t you?” Tom asked. He was leaning against the table where I was sitting. Joe also leaned against the table as he said “You’d best be there, they need more good bottoms.”

I wasn’t sure what he was implying, but I took a gulp of my beer and said “Sure, I’m going; are you both going to be there?” They both shook their heads yes. Tom and Joe were looking for the younger type of men they preferred, and one by one they left and joined the crowds prowling. I finished my beer and left, as I didn’t want to become one of their or others targets.

On the Friday night of the party I had pondered about it and decided for sure I would go. I parked about two blocks away and walked there. I paid the entrance fee and then stripped in the locker room. I wore my usual black leather harness and jock strap. I scouted the party area and found it fairly well occupied. Several men were looking for bottoms, including Tom and Joe.

Tom walked over to me “Are you picking out who you want first?” “Of course” I replied. Joe said “The slings are busy, but there’s a St. Andrew’s Cross across the floor over there. Want to let us get you started?” I figured I’d start out easy, so I said “Sure.”

We walked over and they put my arms up in the padded cuffs, making sure I was facing the cross, and spread my legs, not bothering with the ankle cuffs. Joe had some lube with him, and he greased up his cock and my ass, and he slid in without as much as saying anything. I had previously greased up my ass in advance, as I figured I’d be bottoming for most of the men there. Joe was pretty much the same as he’d always been, just a fast fuck. He didn’t cum, just looked at Tom and when he pulled out, he took over. He was also a fast fucker, but he didn’t get off either. When he pulled out he turned to Joe and said “Let’s go see what else is available.” They left me attached to the wrist cuffs, so I was stuck where I was.

At this point I was pissed. I wanted to be really fucked, but they had left and I couldn’t get out, as the cuffs were secured to the posts of the cross pieces. So I had to just stand there and listen to all the guys that were enjoying themselves. I could look over and see a couple guys in the slings, both being well fucked, with a crowd of men around, urging them on.

As I hung there, kind of discouraged, I smelled cigar smoke. Then a man walked up to me. I looked down and saw the fingers of a black man working my nips and balls. Then I felt his hardness against my ass, about the same time as I was aware of a big black cigar coming over my left shoulder. He took a big drag and then removed the cigar from his mouth and let a big cloud of cigar smoke surround us.

“You feel left out, young fellow?” he asked as he slipped his cock up my greasy hole. I inhaled a big breath of the smoke before I responded “Yeah”. He grasped my hips and pulled me back a little to make my ass more open to him. The cigar was still over my left shoulder and he took another big draw on it as he went up my ass. “You’re pretty open, boy, but not all the way” he said, as he hit my second sphincter. Now at this point he was pretty much as far up my ass as any man had ever been, and I was shaking from the feeling. I think he realized that as he took another big drag on the cigar. “How about I let you down off this cross and give you a nice ride on one of the slings?”
I didn’t want to loose his cock out of my ass, but I did think it would be better to be lying down before he pierced my second sphincter, so I said “Sure.” He unfastened the two wrist cuffs and I was able to get my arms down. It made me feel weird from tired muscles, but I was able to turn around then and see who this man was.

He looked to be over 40, was about 6’2″ tall, black, as I already knew, and was wearing a harness and chaps and a leatherman’s cap, plus big boots. He had a nice face, sort of long, with bright eyes, and a big smile. I couldn’t see his hair, but he had a short beard and mustache and what I could see of his body was muscular and covered in short curls of hair, and some of it was just beginning to turn gray. And of course he had a big black cigar in his jaw. He was standing there with his hands on his hips, just looking me over as I was doing the same to him. “You like what you see?” he asked. I was really staring at his big cock, which had to be at least 10″ long and so thick I didn’t think my hand would reach around it. I looked up at his eyes, and said “Yes, I do.” He smiled and took the cigar out of his mouth after he took a big drag, and he took me in his arms, bent me over and kissed me and let the smoke out as we kissed. He was holding me close, and it’s a good thing, as I felt like I was going to collapse from the kiss and the smoke.

He pulled me up, put the cigar back in his mouth, and turned me around toward the slings. The first one in front of us was open, so he led me over to it. As I began to get into it, he removed my jockstrap and laid it aside. Then he let me get in and got my feet into the stirrups and made sure I scooted down so my ass was over the end. Then he walked around the sling, took another drag and leaned over me and gave me another big smokey kiss. One thing I can say, regardless of the smoke, he knew how to kiss. I would have been happy to have spent the evening just kissing with him.

He walked around to the front of the sling, made sure his cock was erect and greased well, and he penetrated me as if I was not there. I wasn’t prepared for that. He was right against my second sphincter before I was ready for him. He had a hand on each sling chain and began to move the sling against him; out as he pulled out and in as he fucked. My second sphincter was bounced against, then seemed to be opening up, and then he was in all the way, ALL the way. I had never had a man so deep inside me. He was smiling around the cigar, smoking it silently as he proceeded to fuck me.

I was in sort of a suspended animation feel. There was something inside me that felt deeper into me and it was thicker than I had ever had before, and it kept going. I loved it! He was really fucking me, like I’d never been fucked before. And then he stopped, took another big drag and bent over and kissed me, pulling the sling to him as he did it. I took in the smoke with his kiss, and it was like he was kissing me and letting me in on some big secret, at least it felt like it. Then he stood upright again, put the cigar back into his mouth, and began to really fuck me.

It was like what had gone before was just preparation, now we were fucking. The chains were rattling and men began to gather around. There was the usual shouted comments, “Let him have it! Show him who’s the Daddy now! Fuck that ass, man! Breed him!” I was hanging onto the chains for my life, it felt like. He was really digging in deep, long strokes.

And before I was ready for it, I could feel him cumming in my ass. I don’t think I’d ever felt it like that before. My cock was up stiff and I began to spout. I couldn’t ever remember a time like this before. He was grinning at me as he continued to fuck me, until he finally went flaccid enough to come out of my ass.

When he came out I heard the cum splat on the floor, so I assumed he’d given me a big load. As usual at these events, he walked away from the head of the sling and there was a man to rim me and clean my ass up and eat all the cum, and then men began to take turns, getting into my open ass. He came up to me, took a big drag and bent down and gave me a long smokey kiss. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did!” he said. I was being pounded again, so I just said a happy “Yes”, and he walked away.

I guess it was three other men that fucked me after the big black guy. None were as good, and if they came, I couldn’t tell it. When I was finally left alone, I felt wasted, worn out. I began to try to get my legs out of the stirrups, and found I couldn’t move them well enough. As I was fumbling with this, the black guy came back and helped me out and up. As I tried to stand up, I couldn’t do it, so he helped me along to a bench at the side and made sure I could sit properly. I thanked him, and he sat down beside me. I noticed his big cock was now just flaccid and floppy. It was still long, longer than mine erect.

“My name’s Leroy” he told me. “I’m Fred” I said. He looked at me. “Would you mind coming home with me tonight?” he asked. I thought about it. “I have a big place outside of town, big garage for your car.” He had realized the reason I had not responded was I was afraid to be in a black area and leave my car out. I felt very badly about it, but I said “Yes, I’d very much like to go home with you.”

We disposed of our “party” apparel and dressed in our “normal” clothing at the lockers. Leroy said he was in a big SUV, and I said I was in a Ford Focus. He said he would wait for me out front. When I pulled up, he set out. It took us nearly a half hour to get there, including a little windy road through the trees, when we got to his place. He had a big separate garage with space for three cars, so there was plenty of room for mine. When I got out, he was closing the garage doors and invited me to follow him.

I was pleased he lived in a rather large old home, and it was clean. He was still smoking the same cigar when we arrived. He took a final big drag on it, turned to me and kissed me so hard he wrapped his arms around me and bent me over, again releasing the smoke as we kissed. I had to admit I was getting accustomed to cigar smoke when he let me come up. He put the cigar in one of the many ash trays around the living room, took my hand, and led me to the bedroom. Again it was clean, so I was impressed.

He didn’t say anything, just began taking my clothes off, as I took his off. When we were both naked, he again took me in his arms in another big kiss. I could still taste cigar on his lips, but it was a fine kiss. He led me to the bed, turned it down, and let me get comfortable in the center of the bed. He climbed in over me, laid down on me, and we had another big kiss, or we just continued to kiss as he moved my legs about, getting himself between my legs. Then he bent down and took my cock in his mouth, all the way to the balls, and began to suck on me.

Now I’ve had blow jobs. Some were quick, some were long, but he was sucking me! I had my hands in his hair and working his shoulders. He grinned when he tasted precum, but he just kept sucking. I couldn’t help myself, I just went with it, and eventually I filled his mouth. I thought he was going to suck everything out of me. When he let me loose, he climbed up over and kissed me, sharing the load of cum in his mouth. I think that was the first time I’d ever had a guy suck me and let me have some of my own cum in a kiss. I felt wiped out. He held my head as he continued to kiss me.

Then he moved back down, picked up my legs, put them over his shoulders, and began to rim my ass. I didn’t say anything, just wondered if he was tasting more than his own cum. When he had both of us trembling, he rose up and stuck his cock in my hole. Now I know I was wet, but it had been at least an hour, if not longer, since anyone had been in there, and he was not lubed. But he just slid all the way in; I guess his previous load of cum had been enough to grease my channel.

As he moved I had moved my legs from his shoulders to around his waist and he put his arms down beside me as he proceeded to fuck me like he was trying to fuck the shit out of my ass, really hard fucking You know I’m not a virgin; I’ve been fucked more than I like to admit. But he really did it. He was kissing me and loving me the whole way through. His dick was so long, I was wondering where he was putting it, feeling like it would soon be in my stomach. And I was kissing him back as he kissed me. I was in heaven. When he finally blew, so did I. I can’t remember cumming like that, or receiving a load like that. He laid down on top of me, still filling me up, and continued kissing me, until we both fell asleep.

Sometime Saturday morning, must have been after 9 AM, we both came awake. He was beside me, holding me in his arms, and I was enjoying being cuddled. We looked at each other, and he asked if I needed the bathroom. Did I? I was about to burst. So we got out of bed and he showed me the adjoining bath, and we stood side by side, pissing. Then he gave me a fresh toothbrush and got his and got us both toothpaste, and we brushed. Then we could kiss.

“So, do you want some breakfast, or do you want to fuck first?” I was hungry, so I said “Breakfast first, then fuck.” He smiled at me and though we were both naked, led me down the hall to the living room and then the kitchen. I took a seat at the table. He asked me “Cereal or bacon and eggs?” I said “bacon and eggs,” so he got them out and gave me the bread to make toast and showed me the coffee maker and coffee. We worked side by side in the kitchen, he wearing an apron, and then as the meal was ready, he removed it and we ate beside each other. After my second cup of coffee, he asked if it was time to fuck yet. I said “Sure!”

Now this time we didn’t go back to the bedroom. First thing he did was go to the humidor and get out two cigars. One was long and black, the other was shorter, smaller around and cigar colored. He explained that the black was called Maduro and the other was called Natural. He showed me how to cut the rounded end off and moisten the end. Then he let me have the smaller one and he took the larger one. He lit the big one using a lighter that was very small and gave a very tight flame. He drew on the cigar to get it going. Then he lit the cigar for me. I’m not used to smoking, so I was coughing. He said to sip the smoke, like a coke, and then let it out. Don’t inhale it like a cigarette. I tried it, and it was OK. The taste was not like what I had inhaled last night. It had more flavor. He said only suck in a little smoke for a while, and get used to it.

Then he led me to the basement stairs, and we went down into what was revealed as his “play room”. I was standing in the center, just looking around. There was a sling hanging with a stool ready for a person to sit in front of it if he was going to fist, a St. Andrew’s cross on the other wall, and the opposite wall consisted of shelves covered in various sex toys. Over in the corner was an open shower, surrounded with tile flooring and a drain.

While I was just standing there, occasionally smoking, looking around, he came over to me, wrapped his arms around me and turned my head to him, and kissed me. This was another big kiss, and my legs were about to let go. He helped me over to the sling and put me in it, and got my legs in the stirrups. Then he did something no one has ever done. He came to me and offered me his cock. I’ve sucked cock before, but never when I was in a sling. The head of the sling was down slightly, and there was a pillow of leather, so sucking him was easy, except for the length. I gagged several times, never being able to take his full length. I doubt I ever would be able to.

When he felt he was “moisturized” enough, he went around to the head of the sling and greased up his fingers with one of the many lubes on the shelf beside him. He used his greasy fingers to open me up, first one, then two, then three, and when he was making me crazy bouncing around on my prostate, he finally began to use his cock. He gradually began to take longer strokes, until he hit my second sphincter. He then began to bounce off it, gradually getting it to open and allow him in again. Then he proceeded to show me what an early morning fuck was like.

I was occasionally taking a drag off my cigar; he was smoking his all the time, never taking it out of his mouth, except when he would lean over and kiss me. I was having great fun again, feeling how deep he went. As he began to really get into it, moving the sling with his fucks, he began to slam into me. Long strokes, me moving close to vertical, then down to slam into him. I was having trouble holding on to my cigar. He could tell, so as he began to get close, he brought the sling down and just really fucked me hard. I took one final drag from my cigar and let it out as he really got into his final strokes. My cock and his let loose at the same time. I was spouting cum like a sprinkler in the center of the garden. He gradually let his strokes get smaller and smaller until he got to the point that he fell out of my ass. He leaned over and kissed me again, and again it was a long one.

By this time it must’ve been noon or later, and my stomach was making noises. He smiled, put the cigar back in his mouth, and began to release me from the sling. I had put my cigar, what was left of it, in one of the many ash trays around the shelves, and he pulled me up and out. He also pulled me into one of his long kisses, filled with smoke. After that we took a short shower in the playroom shower room, and then dried off with the towels there. And of course he had to kiss me as he did that.

As he released me, he looked at me with a question in his mind. I was standing there, looking up at the man. Even naked, he was taller than me, built, muscles everywhere, though he was not built like those muscle men you see on TV. He kissed me again, gently, and asked me “Would you consider coming back here sometime?” I thought about it as we climbed the stairs. We went back to the bedroom and I began putting my clothes back on and finding my shoes. He just stood and watched me.

I finally decided. “Yes, I’d like to come back sometime. When do you want me?” He smiled at me and bent down and gave me another long kiss. “You think you’d like to live here? I am in need of a partner, someone to share my bed and my life.” I thought about it. “Do you ever let anyone fuck you?” I asked him. “It has been known to happen, if the man is with me long enough to be sure.” “Then I’d like to apply!” I said. He picked me up and kissed me and kissed me.

Now it was not an easy thing, but we worked it out. It took a long time for my family to get used to an older big black man like Leroy. But when they discovered he was a good man, good to me, and good for me, then we were OK. And we always liked to fuck!

Jerry Prince
[email protected]
November, 2020

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I descended the elevator in his apartment building feeling satisfied beyond belief. I adjusted my suit, making sure my starched shirt was tautly tucked back in. Before I hit the ground floor, I took a sec to paw my sated genitals. Hot Shot was sure one helluva lay.

I still didn’t know his actual name. I’d spotted him one warm spring afternoon in Bryant Park. Or I should say he’d spotted me. We sat about forty feet apart, each eating our lunches alone. I felt a pair of eyes on me. Sparkling green eyes. And they were staring right at my crotch.

Call me a typical married schmuck. Commute each morning from Fairfield. Blonde Martha-Stewart wanna be for a wife. 3 tow-headed kids who I adore. Only married life does little to tame my wild libido. I swear I could go at it every day, three or four times a day. I’m a walking raging hardon walking around. Fortunately, I’m in a profession where excesses of testosterone are rewarded.

I liked stepping out on the wife with the cute twenty-something women that Manhattan was teeming with. I liked it a lot. Leggy, professional women in strappy dresses and heels hitting the Lower East Side bars trying to have their Sex and the City moment. At least I could provide the Sex part. Only the women were one fat headache. Too fucking emotional. The last chick I balled was clingy as hell and kept friggin calling me. I finally got her to stop. Talk about close call.

So I turned more and more to men. It started with me trawling the m4m boards on Craigslist. A couple of expert blow jobs had me hooked. In the city, turns out, there were always dozens of men willing to take care of you in a heartbeat. Hot Shot was one of them. That was my wry nickname for him. We’ve all seen the type: guys in their twenties, straight outta B-school, getting suited up for their first finance job, unaware that they look like some pimped-out Gordon Gecko imitation. Spread collars, flashy cufflinks, stripes on stripes on patterns, fully brogued shoes.

He sure was dressed for success that first spring afternoon. Trying to read the Financial Times during lunch hour, but not doing a good job convincing me he was actually reading. He looked away immediately as soon as I caught him crotchwatching, put his eyes back in his paper, so I took my time in appraising him. Tall, good build on him, dark Irish looks with ruddy cheeks and chestnut colored hair. Definitely Sunday Times Wedding Announcements material. But it was funny: with women, I checked out their bodies, their looks, and if in a sexy cocktail dress, their clothes, but with men the thing that turned me on was hunger. A woman could crave for you to ravage her but she’d act coy, make you play the game. When men want to fuck, they let you know. Maybe not aloud, but there’s not much hiding our piggish nature, is there? I knew the ogling look on my face as I appraised all the hot women I passed day in, day out. Hot Shot was looking at me that way.

His eyes were back on me, staring me in the face this time. Ashamed, nervous, but hopeful. I fed his hope. Smiled a sly grin his way. Spread my thighs, letting my chubbed cock ride up in my suit crotch. Fuck, that made Hot Shot smile. That smile made my stick harden up and grow plump in my trousers. I saw the recognition on Hot Shot’s ruddy face as he realized I’m hung. I liked that.

The kid was boning up too, I could tell by the way he was shifting on his bench. I looked at my watch. Time was wasting and junior cocksucker here was taking his pretty, shy time. Fuck that. I got up, not caring who in the world saw my boner, and paraded over to him. Life’s too short, you know?

“Buddy,” I greeted him. “Mind if I read that when you’re done?” Nodding at the clearly unread FT. I figured I needed an excuse, though let’s be honest: it’s New York at lunchtime and no one notices you or cares what you’re doing.

I didn’t wait for him to answer but sat right down next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. I felt him shake a little nervously, then cautiously press his suited leg against mine. I pressed back.

I leaned forward to speak lowly into his ear. “I got about thirty minutes to spare. Got some place we can go?”

He shut his eyes as if to determine this was really happening to him. I was starting to get the feeling Hot Shot was a closet homo rather than a pro at cruising businessmen in the park. All right by me.

I guess he figured out I was real, all right, cause he finally answered. “My apartment’s in Murray Hill.”

Cool. Close enough for a quick cab ride. “Yeah?” I encouraged, my hand massaging in between his shoulder blades now.

He finally had the courage to look back at me. He liked what he saw. I could read it in his face. “God, you’re attractive,” he admitted.

I smiled knowingly. Christ, the kid was just some horndog twentysomething being led around by his dick. I’d been there. Maybe I was there now. “Time’s wasting,” I admonished.

The second we were in the cab, his hands were on my crotch. I looked forward so the cabbie wouldn’t get a clue, and unzipped. I savored that little gasp as Hot Shot finally got a close and personal look. His finger circled around it and started stroking. Reached down and massaged my nuts. Felt good. And I continued to feel good the next ten blocks, til I knew I had to put away the toys.

I could tell by the photos everywhere in Hot Shot’s one-bedroom that he was engaged or at least had a steady girlfriend. Didn’t bother me, just as my shiny wedding band did nothing to deter Hot Shot. He set his keys on the table, circled his arms around me and pressed his lips against mine. Not normally my speed, but like I said I was really feeding off this guy’s hunger. I reached down and unzipped again. Already my prick was threaded through the front of my boxers and its heaviness plopped out into the open air and into this young man’s hands.

“Suck me,” I commanded, and the stud complied.

This was the best part of man-on-man sex in my book. The eagerness. I was eager to get blown, Hot Shot was eager to blow me. He attacked my leaking dick like it was his last meal. Slurping, swallowing, stretching his jaw to new proportions. I fucked his mouth like it was the first sex I’d had in months. I wanted to feel my testicles bounce against his chin. Soon I had my wish.

I can take my time if I want, but that day I was in a hurry. I wanted my nut, and this guy was doing all the right things to get me there.

“You swallow, guy?”

I didn’t let him answer, but just held on. Hell, all the guys I hooked up with swallowed. Another advantage over the women. I held my head grip tight and sawed my prick in and out of his now relaxed throat. Then my nuts churned and my scum went flying. Right into Hot Shot’s esophagus. I shoot big.

My thick wad made Hot Shot cough and sputter, but it musta turned him on, too, cause three seconds flat and he was orgasming as well. I cooed in sexual bliss and rubbed his straw-soft hair as he nutted. Finally, I pulled my prick out and wiped it with my pocket square, then tucked myself back in. Zipped up, thanked Hot Shot, and walked out the door. Caught a cab and was back in my office four minutes before my 1:30 conference call.

I thought it a one-and-done affair. But, damnit, I couldn’t get that blowjob outta my mind. Or those hungry green eyes. Two days later, I felt randy and found myself going back to that same spot in Bryant Park. Hot Shot was there, of course, waiting to see if I’d return. He smiled big, and that made me smile in return.

“How much time ya got?” he asked as he stood up, and shook my hand. Funny, two practical strangers-turned-fuckbuddies, shaking hands like some business acquaintances.

I shrugged. “Dunno. I normally don’t take a long lunch, so not much.”

“Cool,” he replied as we started walking to get a cab. “One of these days I want a little more time. Want to try something.”

“Yeah?”

“You like fucking?”

I laughed. “Who doesn’t? But I’ll tell you now… you keep blowing me like you did last time and I’m gonna keep coming back for more.”

“I’m good aren’t I?” Hot Shot grinned. He was getting a little cockier. I liked that.

“I shouldn’t tell you this, but you made my top three list.”

“Your wife on that list?” The first time we acknowledge out loud my marital status.

Just then a cab pulled up and I opened the door. “Hell no. Marriage is OK the first year or so, but the sex dries up pretty damn quick.”

“I’m getting married in June,” he admitted. Once again I was quietly unzipping. Once again, Hot Shot was going for his hand full.

“Congratulations. But trust me, you’ll see I’m right. Your sex drive’s gonna spike like crazy and you’re not gonna be able to do a thing about it.”

“I was thinking maybe you’d be around to help me from time to time,” he whispered.

Hot Shot and I got along famously after that. I got introduced to the apartment building doorman and got a duplicate key to his place. Pretty soon, we were fucking everyday. Usually, he or I only had time for a quickie, so he blew me. Or I bent him over the sofa, dropped his wool trousers, and did my best eight-minute mile on his wonderful meaty tail. And I couldn’t tell you how many MetroNorth trains I missed going for seconds, or thirds.

He got married, all right, but somehow convinced his wife that he needed to keep that Murray Hill apartment for those times he had to work late in the City. Fuck, yeah.

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‘Bout a hundred yards off the road, I trudged into the woods with my bag, hand-drawn map in hand. The old family cemetery was over-grown, tangled in kudzu. Had to get in and out in a hurry, before the mosquitos made me their breakfast. Mist still hung in the pines as the first rays of sun penetrated the forest. Smelled fresh, clean; sweet earth and exhale from the grasses.

Spiked iron gate stood open. Toe of my boot hit something, a broken concrete rim of a grave, covered with cloud-shaped greenish-gray moss. Stepped over it, searching the through bluestem for the tallest headstone. Family graveyard on the homestead we once owned, parcels sold-off through generations, the graveyard stayed, marked by rusting iron posts now.

Standing next to it, I looked to the sun; due east. Now, I had to find Coy Herzle’s grave.

Granddad sent me out to get a rubbing on a white handkerchief. Coy was his hero, raised him during the Great Depression. Told me a million tales of him and his grandfather. Rift in the family left my grandfather with his grandparents—he never spoke the reason for them buttin’ heads.

* * * *

Found the tallest headstone, looked at the map. Two graves north was Abagail’s gravestone. One to the west with only a small grave marker. That’s where Coy was buried. Took a while to find the small square of marble with a brass plaque now covered with leaves, pale lichens.

Plunked down my bag, got the trowel out and began with a whisk broom first. Grabbed a fistful of bristles and scrubbed the straw over the brass. Oxidation flew away, the letters began to show though tarnish, only a ghost of his name. Still damp with dew, I pulled the weeds sensing a crushed pine box holding the bones of Coy deep under the space I knelt on. They said he was a big man; rows of calcium and piles of minerals sneaking back into earth now. Did these grasses carry molecules of Coy?

My mind wandered through the tales of my family as I cleared the grave. Pulled the weeds offering some respect despite whatever happened causing the family split. Maybe it was politics or my great uncle who went to jail for bootleggin’. Deep in thought in a mostly silent forest, I heard a tone, low, then rippling, smooth sound. I kept digging and pulled the fabric and dark crayon from my bag. Oh yea, I needed that those hoops too.

Sound got louder, a saxophone. Someone practicing in the woods, probably chased out of the house for making a racket.

Grandfather had sent me out with an embroidery hoop and kerchief. Fabric had to be stretched inside it tautly, placed over the plaque and I could make a rubbing, transferring the lettering from the plaque to very center of the kerchief. Had to be quick, the day was heating and the brass would heat and blur the wax. Fumbling, I couldn’t get it to stay inside the hoop before the outer ring popped off. In a rush to finish, “Dammit!”

Heard footsteps nearing through the woods, looked up to see Jer Thompkins. Didn’t know him well, only saw him at the livestock auctions.

“Watcha doin’? Sewing yourself some widder’s weeds?” He stepped closer. “Ah, at ol’ Coy Herzle’s grave. Hmph.”

He squatted down beside me, took the hoop. “Trying to stretch this?” He grabbed the hoop, “You hold it over—this outer rim has a spring.”

We got the fabric stretched and I lay it over the brass. “Thanks.” My fingers felt through the fabric for the letters, “Zat you playing the sax?”

“Yeah. Neighbors run me off.” He watched me closely.

“You in a band?” I carefully centered the hoop over Coy’s name. Thompkins held it steady.

“Nah, I like the way it feels on my lips, in my ears. Sounds kinda like a voice telling me things I need to know. Music’s like that.”

Carefully I began rubbing; great grandfather’s name appeared as gnats began buzzing.

“They say Coy caused quite the ruckus.” Jer continued.

“Too long ago for me to know anything about it.” I kept rubbing, the letters became clearer on the fabric. I slapped at a mosquito.

“Big deal back then. Not now. Your great grandad was a sod—you know, a fag. Married, wife left him, then the war came, took all the healthy men; but not Coy.”

“Yeah?”

“Diddled your grandpa, they say.”

“Diddled? You mean like sex?”

“Yep, trained the boy up like that. They say that’s where your grandpa got to be the way he is.”

“They always saying something. Talk’s cheap.”

When I had a fine, crisp rubbing, I pulled the hoop away, tossed my equipment into my bag, “You get back to your practice. Thanks for the help.”

“Too late to practice now. How about some coffee at the Dairy Quick?” My Grandad opened that café, sold it to my dad before the divorce.

Thompkins was a fine lookin’ man, trim and tall, still had his hair, dark moustache, long, delicate fingers for a guy. I thought about going, but I’d just be pumped for the family dirt.

“Thanks. Not today.”

* * * *

Met Grandad on the back porch, stack of old papers and the iron plugged in. He pressed the wax from the kerchief. “You’re old enough.” Took the kerchief to the sink, washed it, hung it over the faucet to dry.

We went to the shower—always good kissing in the warm water, soapy rub, our bodies were similar but for my always-rigid cock. Not as tall, not as big, but our pale colors were the same.

* * * *

Took me to bed. I lay waiting for him in the bright sun coming through the side window; I loved this bed, this house, everything inside it. It smelled like Grandad, fried bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, his body, his sweat on the furniture, the linens. Naphthalene whiffs lurked in the dark corners like secrets. Sharp smell of Barbasol in the bath.

He brought the handkerchief with Coy’s name. “The taste of your cum is stronger.”

Lay the handkerchief on the bed, told me to keep it under my groin. Had to get it in the perfect place before he did anything.

With the utmost care, he lay beside me, stroking my back while his erection hardened. His hand went to my cleft; thumb made circles at my hole, “I love you.”

I smiled, “I want your cock.” He chuckled and rolled himself over me. We’d done this several times before, better every time.

His face on my back, one knee folded underneath him, he kissed me while he rubbed his juice, readying me. My guts shook I wanted the first moments of stretch and burn, then to be joined closely.

Slow, he was unhurried. Made me anxious for the first push.

“Nnng.” In, pushed till he was half way. I stopped breathing, heart pounding through my head. Couldn’t calm myself. I squeezed my ass shut around his shaft. He always liked that, our bodies talking without words.

Slowly in, back out, my small tunnel tugged at him, my grunts forced out of my chest when he shoved. Soon, his sweat, moist skin on my back. Pressed hard into the bed, hard to breath. It made me heady as my organs moved ahead of his thrusts. Felt like he touched everything inside me with his dick.

My cock strained beneath me, juicing the handkerchief. Lifted my hips toward his movements.

“That’s my boy.” He began the long, deep thrusts, “Cum for me.”

Good pushes started, making me close my eyes and focus on the end of his cock probing around inside. Made me harder when he hit my spot. Made me whimper; lust and need. Pushed hard, then harder. More sweat. Didn’t feel it coming, didn’t feel it happen. My johnson couldn’t stop leaking. I felt gushes of my slipperiness surge several times spreading the wetness beneath me.

Shifted his weight, I felt him opening me deeper, further and he began twitching and moaning. Hot inside me, his jizz the same temperature. Couldn’t feel it until he made a few moves and the liquid squeezed out around his rod. Filled with him dripping down between my legs to my balls.

Trembled underneath his weight, more hot rushes from my slit.

* * * *

The Coy kerchief took a lot of loads that summer from two men. Grandad’s way of loving Coy; my way of thanking a man I’d never known but through the touches of his grandson.

The day I left to go back home, to school, my family’s routines, Grandad handed me the kerchief. Washed, faded, just a little of Coy’s name left now. “Why are you giving me this?”

“There’ll come times… times you’ll feel like you don’t have a place. Feels like floating with nothing tying you to earth, to life, to everything going on around you. Ya’ might think it’s because your different. It’s not. It’s about growing up, being human. Remember Coy, remember me; we tie you here.“

End

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

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He wasn’t was my boss. I did not, except in a kind of dotted line way, report to him. He reported to the boss of my boss’s boss. He was early 40s. I was late 20s. We got to know each other through work, though we did not often work together.

It was the mid-1970s. Not a particularly gay-friendly time. Not like now. It was all-DL, all the time. And not even that if you didn’t know. Only sort of guessed, but took no action yourself, didn’t know anyone. What a time.

+++

This is a counter-factual story of what might have been, but wasn’t. It is a think back about what could have been had one decision not been made – by me. It is up to you to decide if this counter-factual is written in regret. Well, maybe not, if it is being published here, it is a story of what ought to have happened if I knew then what I know now.

+++

His name was Alan. I’m Bob. Alan was maybe 42. I was 28. In the course of working together I learned he was single. So was I. He lived downtown in a fancy condo tower. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment in a near-by suburb. Of course, we each lived alone. We did not share much social information when we worked together. He did seem to like to stand close to me. I let him. I figured that was part of work-life. But we did not socialize. That came later – after about six months of meetings on a special project to consolidate information about external programs by the company to respond to the social issues of the day, like insurance re-lining. It was a good project and we got to talk about how corporations, and people, ought to be more open to difference.

It was a Thursday in April. We had finished a meeting. Alan asked me if there was any possibility I would come over for drinks and supper that Saturday at 7. So what else did I have going on? Nothing. Maybe another night of reading. Maybe some masturbation. So, my answer was yes. I asked if I could bring anything. He said no. He asked if I had any food allergies or foods I did not eat. I told him no. Wine, Beer, liquor? It was yes to all of them. And he told me to dress casually, as casual I would like. No company dress rules in effect.

He said, “The rules are undress.”

I am not sure I got his point. But I did say that would be good.

“Sure. Relax. Undress.”

I am not sure what he heard. It was only later that I found out. It was later that I found that out and why.

Saturday came. Around 5 p.m., I jumped in the shower, washed my hair. I shaved again. This was years before I ever thought of shaving my pubes like I do now. A decent cock, A decent bush. Why did I stroke it. Damn that was good. No real sex since college. Rita was the last girl to do that, to stroke my cock… Maybe Alan had some girls he could introduce me to. He was a good-looking guy. Who knows, I thought, maybe his questions about being single… maybe an opportunity to have a double date. That would be good, though I felt it would just as good to have time alone to talk about non-work things, maybe learn a bit about him that I could use to shape my future. I put on a nice shirt, nice pants, a sweater. What made me put on some aftershave. Maybe because I never did that to go to work. And this was special. Not really a date, but the first time I had ever been invited to eat with a company officer.

I arrived at the door of The Bushnell Towers on the dot of seven. Being on time was important. I like to be on time. I was buzzed and directed to take the elevator o the 10th floor. Alan had the door open. He was standing in it. Welcoming me. I walked past home into the apartment. He closed the door.

“Right on time I see. I like that.”

“So do I. Here is a bottle of wine – I hope it is up to par for the occasion.”

He laughed, “It looks good. And, my friend, having you being here is what makes the occasion. I have been wanting to have you over, to get to know you better, a lot better for a while. I think we may have more in common than you think.”

I looked around – no girls. But that was Ok. The welcome was so warm. So was the apartment – cozy with warmth. It was decorated in an almost sensuous style, at least compared to anything I had ever known or would do. Overstuffed couches and chairs. Pillows. Low lighting. Sort of like an image of a seraglio. I liked it some how. On a low round table topped with a brass salver was an array of snacks, fancy. Finger food.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alan said.

I sat down, sinking into an incredible seat.

“Drink? Let’s save the wine for dinner.”

“What are you having?”

“A Manhattan.”

“I’ll have the same.”

“That’s easy. And be prepared they are strong.”

“Good.”

“Back in a few.”

I have not said anything about what Alan was wearing. He was barefoot. He had on a pair of what looked like silk slacks. He looked good in them. He also had a silk shirt. Quiet something. A couple of buttons unbuttoned. He was a good looking man. But what did I know about that?

He came back with the drinks. We clinked glasses. He said, “To a different kind of meeting than we are used to.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers.”

We drank. The first one was strong but went down so nicely. The snacks were incredible. Finger food. I noticed he would use his fingers to scoop up the hummus. We had another round. I was starting to feel the effect of the drink and the heat. I noticed he had unbuttoned his shirt.

“Bob, you are… must be hot. Take off that sweater.”

I did.

“Better.”

“Alan that is a great shirt. You look good in it.”

“Thanks. We will have to get you one like it. If you want, you borrow one of mine. We are close enough in size.”

“Sure.”

“How about now.”

He went into what must have been is bedroom. In a flash, he was back. It must have been the shirt he did not choose to wear tonight.”

“Put this on. I’ll get another round. Then we’ll have supper. Just a casserole and a salad.”

“Thank you.”

Alan left. I took off my oxford sloth button down and put on what was an incredibly soft, green silk shirt. Maybe it was the drink, but I did not button it all the way up. Rather I pretty much matched how Alan had his buttoned, or unbuttoned. Half way down.

He came back with the drinks.

“Stand up, let me take a look.”

I did.

“Very nice. But I think you have one button wrong. Let me fix it.”

“Sure.”

He stepped up close. He unbuttoned one more button. While he was doing that, did he touch my chest? I think so. Hot. I had never felt anything like that before. Did he touch my nipple? Damn. Hot.

“Looking better. Twins from the top up right now.” He chuckled. “I hope that is OK. Not too personal. But we seem on the same wavelength right now.”

“Twins. Too bad I don’t have any pants like those.”

Alan said nothing. We drank some more. To finish the snacks, he came over and sat on the arm of the chair I was in. Close, closer than I was accustomed to a male sitting next to me. Somehow ,I did not mind. Reaching for a stuffed grape leaf, our hands touched. He got in his fingers first. I had turned my head to look at him. Without hesitation, he put it my open mouth. That had never happened before to me.

“There’s one left, Bob, want it.?”

“Yes.”

He took it. “Open up.”

I did. He fed it to me. Then he wiped my lips with two fingers of the hand he fed me with. What was that. But I did not object.

“Time to go to sit down to supper.”

We went in.

It was a nice dinner. Candles on the table. Nice plates and flatware. Good wine glasses. Delicious meal. We sat across from each other. The candlelight got me to focus on how good looking he was. It made the open part of his shirt enticing. Funny I wanted to see more. But that was something that would wait, if it ever happened, for a trip to the beach or to a pool. What was I thinking?

“Good?”

“Yes, delicious. I have not had a candlelight dinner in a long time. I always thought that was for a special occasion, like a date…”

“Well, this is sort of like a date…” he paused. Then before I could say anything lame like “a date”, he asked me, “So tell me about our love life. Date much in high school?”.

“No, all boys school. For dances they had to import girls. And I was just too shy. (Was that right? Or just not interested?) The dances in late grammar school did not get me ready. I had a crush on a girl. But, this awkward to say, my real crush was David Taylor. Imagine two 12-yea-olds comparing cocks?”

“I can imagine that. Sounds like my pre-high school and high school. Damn boys’ schools. It was worse ten or so years ago.”

“Well it was pretty bad in my day. I sound like an old man.”

“Except for David Taylor, and the cock comparison, by the way how did that work out?”

“I think that is too embarrassing to say, but…” the Manhattans and wine

seemed to be loosening my tongue. “He said mine looked like a bat and balls.”

“Balls for sure,” he chuckled.

“Nothing like that for me,” said Alan. Anything in prep school? I could tell you stories.”

“No, you first.”

“Guests first.”

“I hope you do not mind two very lame stories.”

“No, Bob. More wine?”

“Yes. One involved sleeping nude in the same bed as my roommate. Once in a while, masturbating when he was asleep. And before I get to the second. We took a long trip together in college. One night we were both nude in a motel swimming pool. I so wanted just to touch him. But nothing happened.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t even know what homosexuals were, but it seemed not right, Weren’t we supposed to want to do that with girls? But, I did want to. I hoped he did not see I had an erection.”

“That is sad, Bob. But I know that scene, that situation, being clueless.”

I went on to tell him about a college visitation trip I took with another friend. There were whispers that he liked other boys. But I thought it was just mean talk about him because he, like me, were for Goldwater and founded a YAF chapter at the school. One night on the trip, in our shared motel room, he suggested we get naked and relax. We decided we would masturbate together. Then he leaned over and took my cock, stroking it until I came. Confused I declined to do the same for him. The rest of the trip was awkward.

“College?”

“You’re getting personal, Alan.”

“If it is OK, that is my idea. So, the two incidents In prep school. That can be a time of exploring. Girls.”

“None.”

“Oh. That can be par for the course, too. No home-town honey from grammar school?”

I told him about going to a private school in another town, then my parents moving to another state, and the awful time I had the one time I got invited to a co-ed party. Pretty much ignored by the kids who all knew each.

“Ouch, Bob. How about some dessert and another drink?”

“Good idea.” I was feeling comfortable here. It was a good time.

We enjoyed some very nice New York cheesecake and two Rusty Nails. I was feeling pretty good, pretty relaxed.

“Let’s go back to the living room. I will meet you there. Time to get into something more casual.”

“More casual?”

“Sure.”

I went to the living room. I took the liberty of kicking off my shoes. Damn, or some reasons I undid more buttons.

He came back. I was feeling pretty mellow. And, I have to admit, he came back looking pretty interesting, pretty good. I felt myself somehow aroused.

“Nice shorts, Alan.” He had left his short open, all the way unbuttoned. He had some kind of leather thing on his chest. It looked good to me.

“Thank you. You look relaxed. You would be more comfortable with shorts like I have… you could borrow a pair….”

“Yeah, that might be nice. Why not. It is warm in here.” Did I feel my cock stirring. Being here was so nice. It felt so welcoming.

“This is a nice evening. How about another drink?”

“Sure. The night is young…”

We drank another round. I was feeling very mellow. We did not talk about my sexuality. Alan told me about his life, similar to mine in so many ways. He told me that he had, it seemed, only male friends. That it was good to be with other men, travel with them, that sort of thing.”

We had moved to a long couch. We were sitting next to each other.

“Bob, unbutton that shirt.”

I did. Then he touched my chest.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Touching you.”

He leaned closed to my face. Then he kissed me. I resisted at first. Then, shit, why not. It was good.

“Is that OK, Bob?”

“Yes.”

He stood up. Took off his shirt. His shorts were tenting. His chest harness only accented his chest. His nipples were erect. I felt my cock responding. Damn I was aroused.

“Take your pants off, Bob.” He dropped his shorts. His cock was erect. It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. I could feel my breathing changing.

“Please stand up and take off your clothes. I told you I wanted to get to know you as a person.”

“I’ve never done this.”

“Do you want to, Bob?”

“Yes, I do.”

I stood up. Took of my pants and underwear. I was nude with another man, and not in some school locker room. And I was hard. He was hard.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

He stepped up to me. He put his arms around me. He kissed me. I yielded. One of his hands took hold of my cock. He stroked me. I had to touch him back. I wanted to. This was so much more intense than any sex with a woman I had had in college. I was on fire with desire.

We separated.

“Damn, Bob. Hungry hands.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s sit on the couch.”

We did.

“Nervous, Bob.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry. This will be OK. You can go, whenever you want.”

“OK. But I don’t think I want to.”

I took another drink. I had not been nude with another male since that college trip. But the sex with women in college had always seemed a bit odd, not right, forced, done out of duty, with them doing the leading. Here, I knew that Alan was in the lead. But it felt unforced, somehow right, I could act if I wanted, even if, right then, a little odd. Nude with another man. We had kissed. I had never down that before. I had never let another man really touch me. I had certainly not touched another cock. Somehow, I reached over to touch his cock. Amazing. I stroked it. Hard.

“Nice, Bob.”

“Yes. How does that feel to you?”

“Amazing. Am I doing OK? Alan, are you queer?”

“Yes, and I think you are too. You just do not know it yet. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will let you know. And it is good to be queer, even if I, you, we have to keep it under wraps. Kiss me.”

We kissed.

“Let your hands explore, Bob. Mine will.”

They did. How long did we kiss and touch, just kiss and touch? I did not look at my watch. There was no clock in the room. No hurry. The focus was on what he was, I was, we were feeling. More and more I felt a wave of desire wash over me. More and more I felt I was in the right place, at the right time, doing the right things.

“Thank you, Alan.”

“What for?”

“For this?”

“For what?”

“Opening a door for me?”

“Good.”

“Thank you.”

We stopped what we were doing. Another break. Some more talking. Some touching. Would we stop at talking and do more touching? More drinking. Brandy. I wanted to taste him, Alan…

That happened bit later in the evening. We had just talked and talked and found more and more common ground, common interests. Nude. I felt so comfortable, welcome.

I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. “I’ve got to go?”

“Why?”

“It’s late.”

“Anywhere you have to go tomorrow morning?”

“No. Nothing. All day. In fact.”

“Then stay. I would like you to.”

I stayed.

Anyway, I was a bit tipsy and I did not want the evening to end, even if all we had was talking, being nude together, some touching, some kissing.

I had told Alan about the last couple of summers on Nantucket when I would go to a secluded beach where you could find privacy, privacy where you could sunbathe nude. And I did. My college roommate had been shocked when he saw my all-over tan. He was from Iowa and had a fiancée. So, no wonder shock was all there was. And in college I did not play any sports, so no locker room times. And what the hell did I know anyway except that I like to look at the other nude men more than the few nude women, that somehow I had seemed to want one of those nude men to come over. And I told Alan I had masturbated into the sand with that thought. Lonely me. One time into my hand to taste my cum.

Alan had asked what I thought that story was telling me. I stammered that I guess it was telling me now that I wanted to be where I was right now. As I told him that story of summers past, he took my cock in his hands and stroked. While he stroked my cock, he told me that it was telling me what I might just be discovering, I was sexually attracted to men. How could I disagree as he was on my cock? Why would I? I wanted his cock, to touch his chest, to touch… And this was different from that college trip. I reached over for his cock.

I stayed. We stayed on the couch for a while. A night cap. I asked where I would sleep. He said his bedroom.

We kissed and touched. Then I do not know what got into me, but I got on my knees in front of him and took his cock in my mouth. Amazing. The feeling of his cock. Its hardness. The sheen of the cockhead. How it filled my mouth. I circled that rim around his cockhead with my tongue. I was where I wanted to be. Where I wanted to take some action. Not just be taken someplace.

“Where did you learn that?”

I broke off, “Just inspired.”

“Bob, let’s go to the bedroom.”

We did.

What a room!

Dark walls. Low lights. A big bed. The most erotic pictures I had ever seen. I would learn that they were drawing by Tom of Finland. What men! Incredible cocks. Sex. Fucking. Sucking, and how could a man take a cock, let alone a hand up his ass? Fisting what was he told me that was. One day I hope to find out. On the bureau several cock-like rubber things. Some clothes in black leather. And something hanging thing in the corner. What was that used for? On the bedside table some small bottles. A can of Crisco. Not like my bedroom.

“OK, Bob. Let’s pop in the shower, freshen up, get ready.”

“For bed?”

“Yes, maybe not to go to sleep right away.”

Sure I had showered with other men, but not with another man under the same shower head, not with another man taking charge of soaping me, rubbing my chest, strolling my cock, caressing my ass, touching my asshole.

“Hey, return the favor.”

I did. Wow. Intense.

We got out of the shower. One of the advantage of youth – a hard, hard cock. We were both rock hard.

“Bob, one more ritual. OK. If it is too far to go for you, let me know.”

“I will. What is it?”

“Being clean inside.”

“Inside?”

“Yes. Ever had a douche?”

“Not really.”

“Well we’ll both do it. I will go first so you can see what it is all about. OK”

“OK.”

Alan hooked up a hose to his shower head, something to catch the water than direct down a smaller hose and through a nozzle at the end. I watched in fascination as he douched. The warm water from the shower into his ass hole. His stepping over to the toilet to let it out. How quickly it was clear.

“Your turn?”

“Yes. Please.”

“So polite.”

I let him do to me what he done to himself. A dab of lube on my hole. The several douches. Finally, the clean water.

“Bob, for tonight are you interested in trying something?”

“Heck, this is all trying something. I like being here. I feel safe. Yes.”

“We are going to enhance how you feel by putting some white wine in this last douche. You will feel the effect almost right away.”

“OK.”

“This is so good, thank you.”

“So polite… Alan.”

I took the final douche. He was right, I felt a stronger alcohol buzz was over me.

“Wow.”

“Let’s adjourn to the bedroom.”

We did.

What happened next. So much. How to tell it?

I can only describe what happened that night in Hartford as a night of wonders, of discoveries, of an ecstasy unimagined before. Alan liberated me, set me free, unlocked the gay me to be the gay me. After that night there was no going back, ever, no matter what. What if I left at the first sign of anything other than an ordinary supper? What?

Ask the real me who left when he came back after saying he would get comfortable. It would be twenty-six years and two marriages, one ending in divorce… well, back to what I wish I had happened, my counterfactual night with Alan in 1976.

A couple things you should know about me and my brothers. One: we all wrestle. John and I are on the Jefferson High team together, while Tim is off at college. John’s definitely following suit next year. No way he’s not getting a scholarship to State, he’s that good. For me, it’s just a fun way to pass the time. I like the grappling, like the contact, like staying fit, but I don’t see it as a commitment like my brothers do. Besides, I’m taller and have a bigger, less compact build. Coach has said that football ruined me for wrestling, but I’m not sure I had the genes anyway.

Two: me and my brothers are pretty close. By that I mean we fuck around. Have since, well, I better not say since when. But we’ve gotten a lot of practice and had lots of fun. The bond between brothers is special, but our favorite are these get togethers Coach G organizes when Tim’s home for the weekend.

That’s how we end up in a dimly lit abandoned high school gymnasium on a Sunday night, doors locked and a few mats spread out. Me, Tim, and John standing stripped in our underwear. Making out for a crowd. We’re a little nervous, so we keep breaking out into light bouts of laughter as we’re rubbing each other’s bods and taking turns trading kisses. We can hear the rowdy men, about two dozen of Jefferson City’s finest, they’re swearing and talking lewdly. We don’t pay attention, we just swap spit and run our hands along the exposed brotherly flesh. Hand on muscle. Cocks boning up. The way nature intends things.

I don’t know whose briefs come off first. But one by one they fall to our ankles. Our dicks rear up, ready to go. I touch John’s. Then Tim’s. Then back. My brothers gasp and shiver at my touch. Their lips are now at my neck attacking from each side. I’m tempted to forget about the rules and just have my brothers fuck me right then and there.

The rules. They are simple.

We can’t look over our shoulder. Instant disqualification.

The fucker can’t talk. Instant expulsion.

We have a mandatory one minute rest in between. Beyond that, the only way to stop is to tap out. Tap out and you’re down. Last man to tap out is the winner.

“Ready boys?” Mr. G stands with a throbber stuffed in his coach shorts. Big honking wet spot forming at its tip. He’s clearly impatient for the festivities to start.

My brothers and I get into position, laying stomach down, ass up, in a triangular spoke set up where we can face each other. We don’t have to watch each other, I guess, but it’s more fun that way.

I watch as Mr. Jacobs crawls on top of Tim while our neighbor Mike McFarland straddles John’s meaty ass, pushing his hard cock into its crevice. McFarland’s dick is really thick, and I get a kick out of seeing John’s face wince a little. I can see my brothers’ eyes on me, and I’m wondering who they’re watching. I can certainly feel him, a heavy, muscular man, with fat fingers. Those fingers are applying lube and stretching me pretty good.

It’s no secret that Jacobs is in love with my oldest brother. Every time the banker sees me around town he’ll stop me and ask how Tim’s doing. And he always goes first, crawling on top of Tim’s muscular, compact body and stretching his tall frame over him. His favorite way to fuck is quick. Maybe that’s the only way he can fuck. One of the men always times him with a stopwatch and tells me the time afterward. Only once did Jacobs last more than three minutes. Last week it was one minute six seconds. Tonight it’s closer to two minutes, I’d guess, the middle-aged man huffing as he orgasms deep and heavy in some tight college-wrestler ass.

Uncle Dave takes over for Jacobs. Mom’s younger brother, but he and Dad get on pretty well, just like blood brothers, we always thought. Always joking, with a slight competitive drive for pickup basketball games.

Unc’s got a beautiful cock. Firm, meaty, but not too big. Just a slightly curved scepter of masculinity. Nice tapered head. Seems a little out of place on a conservative lawyer, but we’ll take our perfect dicks where we get them. Yep, we’re all intimately familiar with our relative’s fuckstick. There are nights when we’ll see if Dave can go off three times, each of us taking our turn riding our jock butts up and down its raw, hard length. Dave swore to us that he’d put an end to the sex, that it was wrong for relatives to fuck, but he’s actually the easiest to persuade into bed. The man has no self control. None.

I can tell Tim had no idea who was fucking him, but there’s a look of pleasure on his face nonetheless. Dave’s cock tends to hit your inner buttons pretty well.

McFarland is still humping my other brother, who’s bouncing his meaty butt cheeks up in metronomic rhythm to meet that thick-boned invader. Fuck, looks like John’s gonna fuck himself off to orgasm if he keeps that up. But just as I could see the telltale signs start to pass along John’s face, Mr. McFarland chokes back a grunt and slows down his thrusts. His prick, when he removes it, is coated in a thick sheen of his pearly white sperm. He pauses, gives a gentle pat to John’s butt to thank him, then stands up, his sap dripping onto my bro’s bubble-round asscheeks.

Coach G is up next. He nudges McFarland out of the way and gets into place. Stretches himself on top of John and fucks his way right in. No nonsense. Eager to drill some teen wrestler hole. And he does. He starts a quick rabbit fuck like Mr. Jacobs, only Coach has stamina. Plus, when starts to feel the orgasming sensations in his dick, he’ll hold rock still and cool down for a second before thrusting again. Tears are starting to roll down John’s face, I could tell, from his desire to shoot.

Meanwhile, I’m getting majorly screwed. My fucker is breathing heavy against my neck now. Nutting in me. I still can’t guess who it is. The next prick I know instantly. Mr. Grennell, my boss at the hardware store where I work part time after school. Grennell’s dick is nothing special – just an average six-inch piece of horned, married cock – but he has this way of penetrating you that was distinctive. Teasing you, tentative at first, till he can feel your hole give in just a little, then he shoves his rod right into you.

That thrust always made me gasp. John and Tim were now looking at each other, smirking at my predicament. They always say that Grennell made me look like I was getting deflowered.

Uncle Dave is looking straight into my eyes as he approaches orgasm. As if to signal I’m next. Maybe I am. Knowing him, I’d say he has enough juice in him for multiple fucks. Most of these men do.

Tim’s high school buddy, Eric, climbs on next. Tim smiles immediately at the familiar shape, size, and thrust of his best friend. He starts writhing against the fucker’s body, which drives Eric crazy. The top almost breaks the rules by speaking – one time he actually got kicked out mid-fuck – but checks himself in time.

I look over to see Coach finish. He smiles proudly as he looks down at his conquest. Cum dripping off his spent, slowly deflating prick.

To my amazement, my father appears next, his erection sticking ramrod rigid as he saunters and kneels into place. I love my dad. Love having sex with him, love watching him fuck. So I am expecting a treat, but I don’t expect what happens next. Dad grips each of John’s asscheeks and pries them apart. Then he leans forward and starts rimming my brother. I mean, really going to town, licking out his ass and undoubtedly eating the fresh remnants of two heavy loads, Coach’s and Mr. McFarland’s. The sight’s crazy horny and instantly makes me start shooting. I am the first to blow, my wad spraying the plastic wrestling mat beneath me.

That trips Grennell’s trigger in a big way. My chute is feeling pretty wet now with the deposits of man slime.

Next guy I don’t know. He knows how to fuck, but the angle does nothing for me especially. Which is fine since I need the rest from the sexual stimulation.

Dad leans back up, fresh cum smeared on his chin, and he reaches down to push his erection right into his son’s wet, open hole. My brother’s ass. That high school senior’s jock rectum sucks up its father’s cock and within a few seconds, Dad is buried into John’s meaty rump. He holds still and lets my bro get used to the length and the girth and then pulls back for a deep thrust.

A big smile crosses John’s dopey jock face. Yeah, he knows who’s fucking him. John looks at me then at Tim to try to get confirmation. He can read it in our faces. Daddy’s fucking him. My brother’s smile gets bigger, til the wave of orgasm starts cresting over his expression. He always comes quickly with Dad fucking him and tonight’s no exception. I can even hear the soft splatter of his teen splooge on the plastic wrestling mat as Dad fucks his nut out of him.

That trips Tim’s trigger, too. His buddy Eric’s really going to town, lying his full weight on Tim’s muscular back and thrusting as if it’s his last fuck on Earth. Tim loves two things. Getting manhandled and watching Dad fuck. The two together sends him headlong into ejaculation. Normally he can hold off longer than any of us.

Eric’s not far behind. His whole body convulsing in orgasm. I can tell whoever follows him is gonna have one sloppy, wet fuck.

If I wasn’t between fuckers, I probably would shoot off too. Fortunately, I can take a breather before another man mounts me. Big, muscular, and hairy with a hint of a beer gut. Nice, powerful dick. I’m thinking it’s Police Chief Pollitt, or maybe one of the men from the mall construction site. The guy knows how to screw. I’m wondering how long I can hold off, but I start reciting the alphabet in my head or listing the state capitals to keep my minds off the building pleasure.

I’m half expecting Dad to pull out of my brother happy in his conquest, but he’s still fucking John at a good clip. I’m feeling a little jealous since I want Dad to fuck me tonight, but it’s also really hot to watch my old man put my hot-shot brother through the paces. We all like our time with Dad, but John in particular gets off on it. He told me once he keeps some pics of dad on a hidden folder on his computer and that’s pretty much all he ever jacks off to.

So it’s no surprise that just as Dad’s finally letting loose with his load, my brother’s coming a second time.

Uncle Dave has come back for seconds. This time with Tim. My oldest bro is looking at me intently trying to read my face as Uncle and I lock eyes conspiratorially. He can’t figure it out, though, but his body is relenting, relaxing into the shafting.

Burly man finally shoots off in my ass. I expect to be mounted immediately but instead, thick long fingers start playing with my sperm-wet ass , pushing the juice back in, massaging my tender ring. It feels good.

I look over and, damn, Dad and John are still going at it. Or rather Dad’s still going at it and John’s whimpering at the pleasure and pain battling inside his body. Dad’s skilled hands are now massaging his son’s lats and down into oblique muscle, coaxing my brother into another orgasm. Between that and the deliberate attack on John’s prostate, it’s working. John’s eyes roll back into his head and he bites his lip as his body ekes out another ejaculation. Tears are streaming down his face and almost immediately, he brings his fists down on the mat in rapid succession. “I’m out,” he cries.

First one down, one more to go. If I can only outlast Tim, now. A tall order. I’ve not beaten him yet, but maybe tonight’s the night. Especially if Uncle Dave can work his magic

Dad is now helping John to his feet, his powerful arms wrapping around my bro’s sweat- drenched bod. The two locking lips.

Suddenly I feel the fingers at my backside being replaced by a cock. It feels heavy and big, but by now my hole does not have enough resistance to slow its advances so pretty quickly I’m being skewered by a massive prong. Enormous. Damn, I didn’t know they made them this big. It just keeps coming, inch after fat inch. He pauses from time to time, even withdraws a little to let me get used to the size, but then burrows his way back in deep into my insides.

It’s a good minute before he’s all the way in. Hairy balls resting against my perineum. I feel full, fuller than I’ve ever been. Fuller than I could ever imagine being. This guy is huge. My ass walls quiver as I try to ascertain his size. Ten inches would not be an exaggeration. Maybe eleven. I’m stuffed for sure.

Then he starts thrusting. If a megadong feels heavy stuffed in you, it feels like a battering ram when it’s fucking you. Sweat is forming on my brow and tears are welling up. I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, but I can take it. I can beat Tim.

My brother is now watching intently. Watching his little bro get violated by a massive dick. I can see the excitement in his eyes. The bastard is getting off on this. I guess I can’t blame him.

My fucker is picking up the pace. That giant cock pistoning in and out. I grit my teeth and try to bear it, but….

“I’m out” I hadn’t meant to say it but my body spoke for me.

Mercifully that man meat withdrew and as I curled up to recoil from the burning sensation, a hand patted my shoulder half apologetically. I look up to see my neighbor Jack Warren standing with a hopeful smile and a huge erection. Jesus. It looks even bigger than it felt. “Sorry, Mike, I guess I was too rough.”

I shrug my shoulders. “A little.” I grab his cock and feel its powerful size in my hand. It’s sticky-slick from the loads of my previous tops. “Whoa, this this is beautiful,” I observe.

“Yeah? You think maybe next time…?” Afraid to finish the sentence.

“I’m gonna learn how to get fucked by this thing if it kills me,” I reply, taking this hard spongy head in my mouth and tonguing the corona. A moan escapes Jack’s mouth. I have a feeling I’ll get a load off him yet.

So Tim wins the contest again. As a prize he can pick any of the spectators to go home with and fuck. He picks Uncle Dave. “Payback’s gonna be a bitch,” he boasts, his college wrestler cock already bounding up in anticipation.

Dad comes over and gives me a hug. “Sorry we didn’t have any quality time tonight, Sport.” He nudges his face against mine, his five o clock shadow against my smooth skin as his tongue slips into mine for a nice father-son kiss. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend, OK?”

“Sure, Dad,” I say.

I wonder how I’m gonna wait that long.

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