Author: admin

  • Beach boys

    Marty was 22, and he’d been in a very heavy sexual relationship for four years. His partner, Peter, was great – heavy-cocked, and a long stayer when it came to sex, but they’d split up recently because Peter had wanted him to stop playing the gay scene – which Marty loved – and that was when Marty decided that he had to get away from the city.

    He threw some things into a case and then stuck a pin in a map, which wasn’t a very wise thing to do….which is why he now found himself in a small seaboard town a mere 100 miles from the city he’d just left.

    The beach house he’d rented was the only building on this small stretch of coastline; the town itself being a short drive away, so he’d also rented himself a small car to get around and take in some scenery.

    That morning, he decided to get up early and wash the car, which was already showing severe evidence of being parked near the beach, so he flung on an old pair of cut-offs, dropped a sponge into a bucket filled with slightly unhealthy-looking water, and set to work.

    He’d been going for about a half hour, when he heard a voice behind me.

    ‘Hi.

    He spun round in surprise to find a good-looking man standing watching him. Marty looked down at himself, covered in wet, holding the sponge, and felt slightly ridiculous.

    ‘Hi yourself,’ he replied, and introduced himself.

    ‘I’m Joe,’ the guy replied, holding out his hand.

    Cunt, thought Marty, he can see my hands are full, but he smiled anyway and, put the sponge on top of the car, then gripped Joe’s outstretched hand, noticing suddenly how dark the guy’s eyes were, how his moustache framed a set of dazzling teeth, and how broad-shouldered he was.

    Marty also noticed that he had a healthy bulge in his jeans.

    Joe looked about 40, and in real good shape.

    ‘Need a hand?’ he asked.

    ‘Nah,’ said Marty. ‘It won’t take long.’

    ‘We live up the lake road,’ Joe went on, ‘A couple of miles.’

    He inclined his head in the direction of the hills.

    ‘We?’

    ‘Me and my partner, Earl.’

    Marty nodded, not quite sure how to continue this conversation usefully, mainly because, being in the presence of Joe, he realised that he’d had no sex since he and Peter had parted. He was now feeling incredibly horny, but he wasn’t going to push his luck here, so he turned back and carried on sponging down the car, aware that Joe’s eyes never left him, and embarrassed to admit to a growing swelling jutting out from the front of his cut-offs.

    ‘You mean – like a business partner?’ He spoke over his shoulder to Joe.

    Joe laughed.

    ‘Not exactly!’

    There was a long silence, broken only by the squeaking of the drying cloth on the car.

    ‘Well, I guess I’ll take a dip,’ said Joe. ‘You mind?’

    ‘Feel free, Joe, it’s not my beach.’

    With that, Joe kicked off his trainers, and then stripped off his socks, jeans and T-shirt.

    Marty turned to watch him, and then saw that he wore no underwear, and he felt his eyes widen when that uncut long cock and heavily-laden balls swung into view. It was an impressive piece of flesh; wide and about 10 inches long he guessed, and his loins began to ache, much against his will.

    ‘Wait for me, Joe!’ called another voice, and Marty turned. Running up behind Joe and stripping off as he approached, came another good-looking guy.

    Earl, Marty presumed.

    By the time he drew level, the guy was naked and had his clothes bundled in his hand, then he waved as he passed, and chucked his clothes down by the car. With a loud yell, he followed his pal into the thundering surf.

    Marty watched them as they plunged into the foam, his cock rising, and pushing hard against the front of his cut-offs. He just stood and admired their powerful, tanned backs and hard-muscled butts, as they played in the waves, splashing and rolling in the white breakers.

    Marty shaded his eyes with his hand, as he Joe turn towards him and waved, his beautiful body lean and taut.

    ‘C’mon in – the water’s beautiful!’ he cried out, cupping his mouth with his hands, but the wind clutched the words and flung them haphazardly at Marty.

    He looked back at the half-cleaned car and thought fuck it, so he kicked off his clothes, gave his rising cock a stroke, and ran to join them.

    Despite Joe’s description, the sea was bitter cold, but by the time he’d been pushed under a couple of times by the two of them, teasing him and wrestling with him, the chill had gone, and he soon was swimming in the swirling waters like an eel. Suddenly he took in a mouthful of water, which seemed to be undiluted salt, making him cough and retch, and he stood there, hunched and spluttering.

    Then he felt Joe come up behind him, his hard cock pressed against Marty’s butt.

    ‘You OK, Marty?’ he asked with a concerned voice.

    ‘Sure, sure!’ he gagged, his own prick rising as Joe’s cock stayed there, now upright and pressing into his crack. Marty’s mind seemed to be in a daze for some reason – almost like he was intoxicated just being here with these two great-looking guys. He reached back both hands to Joe’s thighs and pulling him closer, while he gazed at the horizon, then at the beach house.

    Just then Earl splashed over to them.

    ‘Let’s go back to the house, guys.’ Marty heard himself say, surprised that his voice, though soft, sounded so commanding, and they turned to walk back. Joe kept his hand on Marty’s butt, while Marty stretched out his hand to Earl, who linked fingers with his as they half-walked, half-staggered across the beach. Now he was only aware of his feet rising and falling on the soft sand, as they all three moved forward, linked, and their enormous erections showing them the way.

    Marty stumbled up the step and opened the door then almost fell into the hallway with Joe, who held him tight as he leant him flat back against the wall, leaving Earl to close the door behind him.

    As soon as they were indoors, Marty sank to his knees, opening his mouth over Joe’s swollen cock, pulling back the right foreskin to reveal the liquid treasure of his purplish piss-slit, while licking up and down the shaft, tasting and savouring the pre-cum, while breathing noisily through his nostrils in his heated desire to consume Joe’s meat.

    Meanwhile Joe shoved his cock further down his throat as the young guy played with his balls. Earl bent over Marty from behind and stroked his small brown nipples, while kissing his neck, making Marty’s own cock stretch upwards painfully. Since Peter’s departure he was desperate for sex, and could feel the drool oozing from his cock-head.

    Joe tapped him on the shoulder, nodding towards the bedroom, and as if in a dream, Marty rose and took his hand, letting him lead the way, with Earl close behind them, both his hands stroking their new friend’s butt. Marty knew he was in for some great sex that day, and wanted to take it slow and easy, enjoying it all the way, and in no time Joe was kneeling on the bed, with Marty laying face-up between his thighs, taking him once more deep into his mouth.

    He loved the feel of this powerful cock in his throat; the balls heavy on his forehead as he sucked hard, length into his saliva-filled mouth.

    Grabbing hold of Earl’s hair, Marty sought to push the man’s face lower and lower onto him, as he felt the fingers in his ass – two, then three, and then a fourth before moving in up to the knuckle and gently fisting him. He moaned low and long while sucking Joe’s meat, as Earl’s hand swooped and dived within him, the fingers being intimate witnesses of Marty’s bowels, and the city boy’s prick stretched further in Earl’s mouth in lust, as he was fisted to paradise and back.

    Marty tasted a change in the flow from Joe – the clear pre-cum was being replaced by something funkier and thicker, and he knew Joe was going to cum fairly soon, as he traced his free hand up the inside of Joe’s thigh, feeling the slight muscular tremor as the spunk gathered.

    Joe’s hand was now on the shaft that spread Marty’s lips wide, while his other hand stroked his own bush, taking pleasure in seeing his tanned meat appearing and disappearing, slick and shiny with saliva. Earl was still down on Mart’s cock, his head rising and falling, while Marty stroked and curled his fingers in the hair, loving the way Earl cupped his balls as he sucked and fisted him, and now he could feel the tingling onset of an orgasm deep within him.

    Joe was now at the point of no return, his balls bulging with cum as he groaned above Marty, his thighs shaking in spasms, and then with a jerking, gasping cry, he came. Marty had to loosen his lips on the cockhead as it sprayed him – there was no way he could take all that load as coated his mouth and face with the creamy gift, and it was then, with his face covered in jizz that he let rip with his own climax, hearing Earl gag and choke as the spunk hit the back of his throat, the fisting hand quickly sliding out to hold and control Marty’s pulsing prick.

    Again and again Marty pumped out his cum, whilst almost drowning in Joe’s viscous joy-juice, then he turned slightly as he felt Earl move away, and through the milky curtain over his eyes, he watched as Earl rose to his feet on the bed and begin to jack-off over him. The action had got Earl pretty well primed because it only took a few strokes before the first hot splashes hit Marty’s belly and made him flinch, then longer arcs of the milky nectar until his belly was a shimmering lake of cum.

    That was when Marty totally lost it, because later, just about all he could recall was writhing on the bed and licking up spunk wherever he could find it; scooping up the pools that Earl had sprayed on him, and wiping his face with it in the palms of his hands. And swallowing, and somewhere deep in his mind came the thought that if he were found dead tomorrow, the verdict would be ‘overdosed on semen’.

    Marty woke suddenly, thinking it had all been a dream, when he felt the cold stickiness of spunk on him.

    Lots of spunk.

    And then he saw the two hunky men laying either side of him.

    He moved slightly and Joe stirred and looked around him, first at Earl and then at Marty, then he leaned over and kissed Marty, dabbing his tongue in the cheesy mess encrusted on his face, before slowly sliding off the bed and trailing cum from his cock as he staggered towards the shower. Earl then woke, and smiled at Marty, lying flat on his back and stroking his leaking cock, before lazily rolling off the bed and pulling Marty with him.

    The beach house had one of those big walk-in showers, so there was plenty of room for all three. Joe turned on the faucet and a hot stream of water hit them hard, sending them staggering blindly into each other, until he managed to cope with the temperature mixer, bringing the water heat to a sensuous level and they both began soaping Marty. Earl kissed him, open-mouthed, tasting the cum they’d both devoured earlier, while Marty reached down and stroked the man’s cock, feeling it growing and stretching in his hands.

    Joe turned the water off, and poured onto the palm of his hand some lube, from a bottle on the shower shelf, and started working it into Marty’s ass. Marty bent slightly, still kissing Earl and felt four fingers go up him, once again to the knuckle, and he knew he was ready for more cock.

    Earl’s prick was now huge in Marty’s hand, and the city boy wanted it deep in his ass instead of fingers.

    ‘Fuck me!’ he hissed, his voice hoarse with longing. ‘FUCK ME!’

    Earl’s eyes flashed as Marty spoke, teeth were bared and looking crazy for a moment, but Marty didn’t care what they did to him now, as Earl and Joe dragged him out of the shower and onto his back on the tiled floor. Earl roughly parted the young man’s thighs as wide as they’d go, then pushed his cock against the sphincter ring; Marty was already greased up from Joe’s fingers, and the long, thick cock slid easily into him.

    Marty gasped as Joe sat on his face while his partner got the city boy ready to party again.

    Earl was so fucking BIG, but Marty wanted him.

    He wanted Earl riding him and filling him with jizz!

    Earl looked down at his cock, holding it firmly with one hand as he poled Marty and making him scrabble and claw with his finger nails at the tiled floor as the force of the entry shoved Marty, with Joe astride his face, sliding him along until the bathroom wall prevented them from going any further. Marty lifted the heavy balls that were lying on his face, trying to raise himself to see, and with a satisfied smile saw that Earl was tight up against him. He flung back his head, letting the balls drop back onto him, savouring their aroma, and the gamey, meaty feel of Joe’s ass cheeks over his face, delirious and gasping; this huge flesh intruder feeling as though it was halfway up to his throat. Earl didn’t make a move for a while – Marty didn’t think that even he believed he’d get it all the way up inside him.

    Marty groaned, a mixture of pleasure and delicious pain, as Earl withdrew slightly, then filled him again, and he wrapped his legs around the man to keep him there as long as possible.

    Suddenly, his hands grabbed Marty’s body and pulled him over to one side, so Joe obligingly stopped riding his face for a moment and let Earl pull Marty on top, heaving the boy up so he could squat on Earl. Then Joe knelt by Marty and watched the grimace of pain and joy as he saw the huge cock penetrate their newfound playmate’s bowels even further.

    Joe then fed Marty his cock, and now Marty was so out of it that he kept on taking it down his throat until his nose was buried in the bush, his eyes wide open and glazed at how much cock he’d swallowed. He began to rise and fall on Earl’s cock, listening to the slurping as the cock moved within him, and all the while stroking himself, his hardness becoming more pronounced as Earl’s prick touched his prostate.

    Earl was wild now, and his face had a look on it that told Marty to expect his cum any moment. The big man tightly gripped his thighs, thrusting his hips up to match Marty’s downward strokes, while Joe fucked his face, holding the back of his head with both hands clasped. All the while, Marty held that long shaft and jacked him hard while he sucked.

    The sounds in the room became deadened to Marty’s ears, and all he was aware of was that flesh pole moving silently between his lips, and the hard man meat that rose and fell jerkily in his rectum. He decided to heighten Joe’s pleasure by pressing a finger to the base of his shaft, when it began to pulse. This made Joe gasp out loud, as he realised what Marty was doing, and held the city boy’s head tighter

    Joe wanted to go on forever, but Marty wanted to taste that cum again, and with that cock straining in his throat he let him go, feeling the spunk spray immediately into his mouth, as the man pumped against his face in a frenzy. He peered up as best he could at Joe’s opened mouth stretched wide, as Marty masturbated wildly now, sending splashes of clear pre-cum all over Earl’s belly.

    Earl’s hips were rising and falling manically on the tiled floor as his body roared its way into a climax, thrusting unevenly and streaming towards that moment that Marty always treasured, when all stops still before the deluge. And now Earl’s hips were raised stiffly beneath him, lifting him up and sending a stinging stream of cum up into him, bathing him in its warmth, while Joe continued to pull Marty’s face tight to his cock, forcing him to drink the cum, which he tried to do without gagging, but only with a supreme effort.

    Marty finally let go with his load, which arced over Earl, splashing as far as his chin, and then a further load hit his lips, while his tongue darted out eagerly to taste the jizz.

    The milky flood continued, as his sphincter clenched around Earl’s cock as he spasmed, almost passing out with this release of passion by all three of them, then he slowly released Joe’s cock from between his lips, while his tongue kept licking at it, cupping his hand beneath it, to catch the excess spunk that flowed after it.

    Pressing his hands flat on the tiled floor and easing himself up, he felt Earl’s enormous cock slide from his depths, shivering slightly at the cold air that seemed to rush into the emptiness, and then he rolled over onto the floor, as Joe sagged back beside Earl.

    Smiling, Marty brushed the damp hair from his forehead as he surveyed the scene, and knew that as soon as they’d all caught their breath, they’d fuck for the rest of the day and long into the night.

    The End


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  • Apricots

    His name, in English, is George. He’s 27, slim, dark and to me he is handsome. He works at one of the local shops as a delivery ‘boy’. If you need boxes of water, or large items that you don’t want to carry he will deliver them up to your villa.

    I asked his boss, the guy who owns the supermarket, if he wanted apricots. The tree in our garden has hundreds at this time of year. They all come out and are ready at once. I have about 400 of the damn things on the tree. If I don’t pick them they fall off and go to waste. So I asked if they wanted some, for free, to sell in the shop. After all, 400 apricots are no good to me.

    The boss said yes but on two conditions. One; that I take a couple of bottles of Ouzo in return – not a problem, and two; that George comes and picks them, to save me the trouble. Even less of a problem. I’d often caught myself watching George from a distance, wondering how and if I could get him into my house. I’d often fantasised about leading him in and on, and then having him sit on my cock; feeling his sinewy torso, holding his length of Greek meat and taking it into my mouth…

    George came to pick the apricots this morning and I am still hard from the memory.

    I opened the courtyard gate to him and greeted him with a clumsy few words of Greek. In reply he did the same in reasonably confident English. I showed him the steps that lead to the upper garden, where the fruit trees are. I insisted he go first so I could watch his tight backside in his jeans as he climbed ahead of me. When we got to the top he turned and smiled as if he knew I had been watching. My heart skipped a beat; his smile was warm and friendly, but suggested nothing else.

    I pointed to the tree, asked if he wanted a drink of anything – he did not – and waited while an awkward pause followed. Thinking of nothing appropriate to say I left him to get on with his task, telling him to call me if he needed anything. Then I wait straight inside to the house and to the kitchen. From there I could get a good view of him working. The tree is about five feet from the kitchen window but higher up so, by standing to one side and looking up, I could see all of his body but his head. Working on the principal that if I could not see his face he could not see me, I stood and prepared to feast my eyes.

    As he stretched up to reach as high into the tree as he could his tee shirt lifted from his jeans and I was immediately rewarded with the sight of his tanned back. His spine showed through his skin, not a hint of fat anywhere and a line of dark hair ran into the waste band of his trousers. Stretching up, his arse fitted tighter into his jeans too, showing off the two hard muscles of his buttocks. I stood and watched and dreamed of what would happen in my perfect world.

    In that world George takes off his shirt and reveals his flat, toned chest. I see a small tuft of hair between his pecs, a flat stomach with another line of black hair running down to where the top of his underpants rises above his belt. As he reaches up into the tree I see all his torso, dark and slim. He bends to put his collection of fruit into a basket on the ground. His back to me, he shows me his arse as if inviting me to reach out and touch it. And then he turns around and gestures.

    ‘It’s very warm,’ he says. ‘Maybe I should not have worn jeans today.’

    And without saying anything else he takes them off, hangs them on a low branch and simply returns to his task. Now his arse is more visible in the white briefs that he wears, they are tight and almost transparent. His legs are covered with a dark brush of hair, his calf muscles strong and defined. Sweat rolls gently down his back as he labours away, stopping occasionally to bend down to fill the basket. He bends to show me the dark crack of his arse, damping now with the sweat of his labours.

    Then he turns to face me again and I blatantly look at the shape in the front of his briefs. His flaccid cock lies slightly to the right, heavy and bulging and beneath it I see the two perfectly round and smooth orbs that are his balls. He smiles down at me and his eyes sparkle, he winks and walks towards the window. I open it. He stands on the other side, his crotch at my eye level and I reach through to touch what is being offered.

    The material of his briefs is smooth and what lies behind is soft and pliable. I run my fingertips over the flaccid shaft, down and under the hanging balls. He parts his legs. His erection grows, and grows until I see the purple head of his long, dark cock appear above the elastic of his shorts. I gently pull down the material, feeing the treasure that waits for me. His thin cock is released, springing out from a dark bush of jet black hair, the foreskin pulled back by the strength of his erection. I take his briefs all the way down and feast my eyes on the small, but evenly hanging, balls. Not so hairy, wrinkles and smooth lines, dark skin, darker than the rest of him. I touch them lightly and play my fingers over them, enjoying their soft downy feel.

    I reach out through the window, my tongue sticking out before me, and land the tip of it on the tip of his cock. I hold his shaft and point it towards my mouth. I reach as far as I can but can only get the first inch between my lips. George steps forward until his body is pressed up against the wall of the house and his middle is framed by the window. Now I can take all of him. Four, five and finally six inches of his Greek cock slide gently into my mouth and I close my lips around it.

    As he starts a slow, gentle rhythm, fucking my face carefully, I bring my free hand up again and massage the two soft balls that are already rising up. I cup my fingers around them and use them to pull him deeper into me in the same rhythm, all the time stroking his balls with my finger tips. Now my other hand reaches out and around and caresses the soft hair on his hard backside. I feel his cheeks part and come together as he withdraws from my mouth and then slides back into it again. My throat fills with his youthful, solid cock and my own hardness strains out against the confines of my shorts.

    I feel his buttocks clench and his rhythm quickens. I hear him grunt and his shaft grows fatter in my mouth. His balls, now high and hard like two unripe apricots are ready to deliver their contents to my willing throat. I pull him harder into me, waiting for the hot, salty explosion to come and wishing that George was in the kitchen with me.

    ‘I am finished.’

    I was shocked back to the real world by the sound of a heavily accented voice behind me. I blinked. I was staring out at an empty garden, at a tree stripped bare of its fruit. Instinctively I turned and there was George, sweating slightly, his shirt off, two baskets of apricots on the floor beside him.

    He looked at me and smiled, indicated the baskets and I looked down. We both stared at the fruit for a moment and then our eyes moved sideways and came to rest on each other’s crotch. I was aware that my erection was tenting out at the front of my shorts. It was too late to hide it. I was aware also that, within his tight fitting jeans, a swelling was showing through. It was pointing up and to the right. I traced the outline of his cock through the denim. And then we looked at each other and said nothing.

    George stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He reached out a hand and I felt, through the satin material of my shorts, a gentle caress on the end of my cock. I stood, rooted to the spot and allowed his hand to explore. He continued to stare at me. I trembled with anticipation. He gripped a little harder. I parted my legs slightly as his hand reached under to feel my balls. He was close, so close that I could feel his breathing, fast but controlled.

    I looked into his deep brown eyes and said nothing. There was nothing to say. George winked at me once and then slowly, very slowly, descended from my view. I felt warm air around my cock, soon replaced by the warmth of his mouth.

    I half closed my eyes and looked through the window to the tree now stripped bare and regretted that it only bares fruit once a year.


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  • Angel

    I was lying down in the burning vastness of the never ending dried out dessert dying of thirst and starvation. I was only twenty three years of age and had always been told I was good looking but now I was covered in scars caused by the sun beating down on my ravished, half naked body. I had been walking and stumbling in the eternal land of sand and sun for four gruelling days and nights after managing to escape from a prisoner of war camp. I could hardly breathe through the fire in my swollen throat and I had even stopped producing saliva which I had been using to moisten my engorged and badly chapped lips. My aching legs couldn’t take my weight any longer and they buckled underneath me sending my sodden body into the hot soft sand which I had grown to hate so much. Moaning in despair I spent the next few hours trying desperately to crawl forwards using what energy I had left in my once strong arms. After what seemed like a life time my arms collapsed and I tasted the sand in the back of my throat as my body gave in and I went face first into the blazing white sand. Coughing I turned onto my back keeping my eyes closed as the sun blinded me. My coughing eventually subsided and I drifted of into a fitful sleep in the hope I wouldn’t wake up again.

    I heard a flapping sound far off like the beating of wings in flight but refused to open my eyes, too scared to look in case it was birds come to pluck at my ravished body even before death had taken me away. The noise got louder and louder until it was close by and, in my vague state of conciseness, I began to offer my body to whatever death had in store for me. At least it would be in an end to the pain.

    Then came silence like I’d never known before. There wasn’t a sound in the air and I couldn’t even hear my heart beat or my tortured breathing. It was as if the world stood still. At first I thought I’d died but then I felt a renewed energy passing into my body and a feel of contentment filling my heart. I opened my arms wide and realised I couldn’t feel the ground below me. Cautiously I opened my eyes.

    Eclipsing the sun was the dark body of an angel floating down, standing erect with its feet crossed over each other and its toes pointing downwards. Its wings spread out in all their glory. I smiled as it came closer and I realised it was male, and naked. His body was sun kissed, bronzed and in perfect shape. He smiled down at me as he came to my side. My strength felt renewed and my heart sang when I looked into his twinkling eyes. He bent over and parted his full lips and put them near mine. My lips opened ready to receive his as his head came closer and closer. My body began to tingle from head to toe and I felt a stirring in my loins as his moist lips brushed ever so gently against mine. One of his hands cupped me behind the back of my head and he bought my head closer to his and I felt life flowing through my soul as his tongue flickered tantalising over my own and his other hand went over my leaping heart.

    Warmth of a love never been told before washed into me as his lips covered mine and his hand cupped my left breast and began to gently massage my smooth chest. I stroked the arm that was massaging me with one hand and bought my other arm around his naked thigh and cupped his buttock with my hand feeling his smooth silky skin. As the hardness between my legs grew I realised I too was naked but I couldn’t remember him or myself taking my clothes off. I could also feel his own erection against me as his hand descended onto my flat stomach. He took his wet lips away from mine and moved the rest of his body towards my head. His loving opal eyes looked into mine and he stroked my cheek as I turned my head and saw his semen glistening in the sun inside his foreskin as his erection stood proudly next to my mouth. I felt like Eve as she picked the apple and knew it was forbidden fruit so I looked back into his shining eyes and he nodded towards me and smiled. I turned my head back towards his hardness and using my hand I pulled his foreskin back and watched as some of his seed fell to the ground. Opening my mouth I slid my lips over his mushroomed head and tasted his sweet juice. His hands went gently on my head as I slowly worked myself down his length until my nose touch his smooth skin. I felt as though I was drinking from the fountain of elixir as my body and soul were renewed as I carried on sucking.

    That’s when I realised he was totally smooth. There wasn’t one single hair on his beautifully formed body. I tightened my lips around his shaft and made love to him like I’d never done before. After a while he took himself out of my mouth and went to my feet. Never taking his eyes off of mine he spread my legs open and slowly walked between them until he stood between my naked thighs. I lifted my legs up in the air as his erection touched my testicles coating them with the milky semen that was still seeping from him. I quietly nodded back at him as his soft hands gripped my thighs and I felt his warm stiffness go between my cheeks and rest against my open invitation.

    No words need to be said as I look at the love in his chestnut eyes as slowly his warm hardness enters me. Throughout my whole life I have never felt more wanted, needed and loved as I do at that moment. His penis fills me with passion as it slides all the way in. My own cock leaks its own juices freely over my flat, hairless stomach as he slides in and out of my tight grip. At some point he manages to turn my body around like a screwdriver into a screw and stays in me all the time. I see that I am floating in mid air and just below me lays my half undressed body. I feel nothing for it as my angel carries on making love to me. I can feel the build up in my loins as he quickens up his pace and I know we are going to ejaculate together. I erupt only a second before him and, as he fills me with his godly, seed I feel as if I’m being consumed with true love. I close my eyes as a wave of contentment runs through my soul and I am carried through the gates of heaven safely. My guardian angel protecting me.


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  • Adventures of a Cum Slut

    Soon after my thirteenth birthday, I discovered my cock. All seven throbbing inches of it. About four times a day.

    It was pretty much about then that I discovered something else too. Something sticky, salty and creamy. Something my body seemed able to produce in copious amounts every time I jerked off. Something which would change my life forever.

    That something, of course, was – cum.

    For a while, my own satisfaction had to suffice. Naturally. After all, I was a virgin and living in the wilds of New Brunswick was unlikely to change that unfortunate fact. So like most young teens, I had to be content with my own manipulation. And, for that matter, with my own spunk. Which, as I soon discovered, was a peculiar delicacy. Especially when I was feeling hot and dirty. When nothing but tight-fisted masturbation would appease my horny fantasies.

    It was just as well, then, that I appeared to have two remarkable physical capabilities. Both of which assisted in the feverish consumption of my own wads.

    The first was my ability to arch my back forwards at the point of climax, so that the end of my cock was no more than an inch or so from my open mouth. Not exactly self-suck, granted. But an impressive advantage in respect of my particular craving.

    The second was the very gift of youth. The sheer virile craft of geyser-like eruptions. Pulsing from the groin with violent energy, so that each bolt of ecstasy spurts with volcanic force from the straining, wanton eye.

    No measly dribbles. No tired, middle-aged drools. Just bolt after rapturous bolt of thick, effortless boy-honey. Arching proudly skywards, before landing with generous splats upon whatever naked flesh is exposed. Which in my case was always my tongue. Just a hair-breath’s distance from the source of the outburst. Thirsty for cum. Just aching to feel the heavy roll of jizz as it pours towards my tonsils and into the darkness beyond. Before trickling down my gullet and into my hungry stomach.

    By the time I was eighteen, I had tasted and swallowed more cum than most guys might hope to take in a lifetime. But it was still all my own nectar. By now my private desires were becoming so insatiable that not even my over-productive balls could produce the quantity of baby-batter to satisfy my almost insatiable appetite.

    Besides, years of speculation had left me wondering what it would be like to indulge in the offerings of another man. To suck the fertile riches from his crotch. To work his balls until the tubes were drained and empty.

    Above all, to be in full communion with another human being and to have his juices inside me. Feeding me. Strengthening me. Filling me as only ball-snot can.

    Which is why I quit college, left home – and headed for the bright lights of Toronto.

    I hadn’t a clue what I was gonna do when I got there, but I’m nothing if not resourceful and soon got a job working behind a bar in the city’s gay quarter.

    Which is where I met Pete, the bar manager. Ten years older than me, but uncommonly good-looking. Tall, dark – and with an air of self-assurance that I just knew testified to a pair of fine, healthy balls in those sexy jeans of his.

    Not that I was able to verify that private assertion on our first encounter. But by our second night serving drinks together we had already developed a notable connection, with him passing comment on my ‘tight, sexy bubble butt’ and me confessing that I was still a virgin and hadn’t so much as seen another guy’s cock.

    Which perhaps explains why he took it on himself to expose his rather impressive seven-and-a-half inch offering – an act that not only visibly encouraged the punters, but which left me in no doubt as to where I wanted to be nuzzling that night. I mean, Pete’s cock was gorgeous. Thick, deeply-veined and uncut. There was not a single doubt in my mind that it wouldn’t produce copious quantities of the cum that I privately yearned for.

    I knew Pete would take my cherry that night. Just as he had with so many new boys behind his bar, I felt sure.

    ‘You fancy a coffee …?’ he casually quipped, once the doors had closed. Knowing full well that I was gagging only for sex.

    ‘Actually, no …’ I teased.

    For once he looked surprised. ‘You don’t …?’

    I stepped towards him – a tad more confident than my inexperience should’ve allowed. ‘I’d prefer to sup on something a little more – tasty …’

    His dark eyes flashed in recognition. ‘Tasty …?’ he teased.

    ‘Let’s put it this way,’ I continued. ‘I don’t believe in spitting …’

    We slipped upstairs. Into his bedroom, where we promptly pulled away our clothes and fell together in a sweaty mass onto the silk sheets of his mattress.

    We kissed. An open, almost desperate kiss. Exchanging our bodily fluids. Running our tongues against each other. Whilst our cocks pulsed and throbbed, our cum-sacs tightened.

    Indeed, it was the thought of those yet-undiscovered reaches that quickly led me to explore Pete’s lean frame. Forcing my head down to his erect nipples and to the quaint line of hair between them.

    I played with them momentarily. Whilst my boss arched his body in excitement – eager, I felt sure, for me to move towards his treasure trail and to the glories beyond. Indeed, I could hardly deny my eagerness to reach that most intimate quarter and, trailing the tip of my tongue to his navel, I reached out and clasped his swollen shaft, already drooling with a handsome flow of pre-cum. Little surprise that I should lick my lips in anticipation of the delicious nourishment to come.

    ‘Fuck, that looks good …’ I groaned, pulling myself towards my goal. Noting that his balls did indeed look large and engorged with pure liquid protein.

    ‘You like hard cock, dude?’

    ‘Love it,’ I assured, now rolling my hand up and down his pole – forcing a large pearl of fresh excitement to the head. ‘Especially when it gives me hot, fresh cream …’

    ‘Gees, man, I can give you plenty of that.’

    I glanced up to look him in the eye, finally trickling the end of my tongue against his crimson crown. ‘That a promise?’ I quizzed.

    I’m not exactly sure whether he ever truly believed that this was my first time, but in fairness I don’t think he really cared. All that mattered to him was that he had some young pup on the end of his shaft, sucking the life out of his manhood. Believe me, that was exactly what I soon doing. Drawing his helmet into my mouth, before slurping and drooling up and down its length. By which time I was half way to paradise.

    Just to have my tongue around his thick, aching member was one thing. But to taste the sweetness of his oozing, excited tubes was quite another. Indeed, it wasn’t at all long before my mouth was literally frothing from the sticky forerunner. At which point I raised myself up and kissed Pete on the lips. Forcing the salty taste into his own, quivering mouth.

    Seconds later and I had returned to the source of my pleasure. But by now Pete was clearly curious of my own hard appendage and, pulling himself over me, slid into sixty-nine position. As such, he started to feed off my proud boner, whilst I continued to inhale his thick offering, forcing it as far down my throat as I possibly could.

    We were, it seemed, a perfect circle. Enjoined in all directions. Not that I had real affection for this guy, it must be said. True, he was a handsome enough stud, whose manhood was more than enough to satisfy me at that time. But this was, above all, a purely physical arrangement and the only thing about Pete I really craved was the contents of his fuzzy cum-bag. So long as he satisfied me in that respect, then I would be more than happy with our present relationship.

    What’s more, I think the guy was astute enough to realise this. Or at least if the way he was now pounding my mouth was anything to go by. For there was simply no disputing the almost frantic nature of his thrusts, whilst I hung on ever-tighter with my lips, hoping and praying that his spray would soon be forthcoming. That my wait for the first mouthful of cum from another guy would soon be at an end.

    I was not to be disappointed. Within just a few more heated seconds I could sense that the guy was now reaching his climax, as he let my own hard cock slip from his lips and then rapturously groaned and spluttered. What’s more, his shaft flexed like steel upon my tongue, whilst his boy-glands tightened so far into his crotch that they almost disappeared.

    This was the moment I had been waiting for all my young life. When another dude spurted his thick, tasty cream down to the back of my throat.

    Yet despite such eager anticipation, I still remained unsure as to what to expect. Indeed, it wasn’t until the first angry bolt of cum erupted from Pete’s fuming eye-hole, rocketing towards my tonsils with almost spiteful energy, that I fully and finally realised just how much this act of kink turned me on. For my throat seemed to open up like a drain, so that the thick spume of seed was immediately gobbled down my gullet. Followed, it must be said, by a series of equally generous blasts. Whilst all the time my mouth clenched firmly to the fellow’s shaft, pumping it for all its precious sauce. Pete gasping his appreciation from above – amazed perhaps that he had witnessed such adeptness in my sordid perversion.

    By the time the full fury of the storm had passed, trickles of creamy spunk were dribbling from the corner of my mouth. Happy testimony to the sheer volume that Pete’s swollen love-tubes had produced.

    Indeed, it was at that very point – lying content with a bellyful of fresh cum – that I first truly realised that my particular tastes need no longer be a selfish devotion.

    That I might serve the needs of countless horny studs, whose balls were constantly brimming with sweet elixir and whose darkest desire was to have it sucked from them by someone like myself.

    Guys like Pete. Who actually got as turned on by being blown and drained as I was by performing the task. Guys who had no desire to sow their seed in the hope of having babies, but whose kink instead was to have their kid-broth savoured by a fiendish cum-taster like myself.

    For believe me, I was left in no doubt that night that my boss was seriously enamoured of my performance. For no sooner had he turned to look at my sticky face, than he urged a repetition of the performance by thrusting his cock back into my mouth and demanding that I bring him off a second time. Which I did somewhat effortlessly.

    What’s more, I think the subsequent load was even tastier than the first. Not quite as salty. Maybe even slightly sugary. The perfect antidote to any sense of sex-fatigue.

    Indeed, what followed during the remainder of our encounter was surely incredible. As we engaged in what can only be described as an endless round of sordid fornication.

    For having already cum twice, Pete proceeded to insist on fucking me – with a cock that still appeared to show little sign of abandoning its rigid, pulsing nature.

    No surprise then that I should wonder whether he’d taken something to maintain such a magnificent hard-on, but in fairness I suspect that he was just one very horny bastard.

    That said, I found I had no difficulty in keeping up with the guy and in the process of him finally penetrating my greedy man-cunt with his thick, manly cock, spurted several loads of fresh jizz myself. Spraying them over the bed-clothes, which I later licked clean with my tongue. After all, it seemed a terrible pity to let such bounty go to waste.

    By the time morning dawned, we’d fucked, sucked, licked and rimmed ourselves to paradise and back several times and even Pete’s wanton cock was finally spent.

    Our balls were equally drained. His especially, given that I had forced four loads from those magnificent orbs. Almost every drop of which had rolled over my tongue and slipped effortlessly down into my stomach.

    You know what? I didn’t feel the slightest bit nauseous, as perhaps I might have expected. Rather I felt fulfilled. Content. In complete fellowship with another guy.

    Not that I was in love with Pete.

    Oh true, he was very sexy. What’s more, he did have a libido to die for.

    But I’d have been stretching the truth to say that I loved him.

    Besides I don’t think he ever really loved me, though we did manage to have quite a lot of mindless sex over the next few days. During which I pretty much swallowed a gallon of the dude’s baby-sap.

    But it was lust, not love. To prove it, I walked in on the guy a couple of weeks later to find the mouth of some cute, blond twink attached to the end of his hard shaft.

    I’m not exactly sure whether Pete expected me to be angry, but the coy look on his face certainly suggested that.

    What’s more, there was distinct relief when I laughed and told the stranger to continue. Pulling away at my clothes as I did so, before tumbling naked on the bed to join the pair in their antics.

    Because, let’s face it, why should I have felt annoyed? After all, it isn’t every day that you get to enjoy the contents of two cum-sacs – and that’s exactly what I was thinking as I sprang into their company that afternoon.

    As such, I had a boner the size of a tenpin as I latched onto the new guy’s offering, which itself was certainly not to be overlooked. Seven solid inches of rampant male finery, with a nicely cut head that exposed a shiny, bulbous end. What drew my attention the most, however, was the rich trail of pre-cum that was already trickling from the eye-hole, which I sniffed out like a fox at a hen-coop. Seconds on and I was sliding my tongue over the source of the nectar. Lapping at the salty flow as if my very life depended on it.

    My devotion was quickly rewarded. For no sooner had I begun to engulf the freshman’s head, than a thick ooze of pre-cum flowed from that gaping slit and covered my taste-buds. A delicious scent of man-sex, which only made me hungrier for more.

    So I began to flick my tongue into the hole directly. Whilst tightly rolling my hand up and down the shaft, so as to force as much broth as possible up his swollen urethra.

    In the meantime, Pete – who was currently being blown by his unnamed visitor – had forced his way towards my own throbbing cock and was now sucking the end for his own source of nectar. As a result, the three of us had almost unconsciously created a frenzied triangle of debauchery. Sucking for all our might on each others’ shafts. Whilst filling the air with a magnificent chorus of slurps and groans. The sound of manly satisfaction.

    All this gorgeous cock worship was making me feel like one truly horny bitch. My mind consumed with the thought of all the cum that was contained in those tight, fuzzy balls of my friends. All that cum that I could swish around my mouth, before consuming as if it were candy.

    Indeed, for the very first time in my life I actually felt like a complete slut. A whore. A wanton tramp who would literally prostitute himself in the pursuit of lashings of fresh man-cream. A perverted harlot, who lived for the sticky taste of seed in his belly.

    Yes, this was my fetish. A dangerous one, perhaps – which in itself made it all the more appealing. But one that I wanted to indulge in. To indulge in completely.

    Until every manly orb was dry.

    Until there was no more spunk to savour.

    Until my every orifice was dripping with white, heavenly lashings.

    Until the very stale stench of cum almost made me sick.

    I bounded up before them now, breaking the magic circle. Then sat on all fours on the bed, looking for all the world like a guy in need of real hard breeding.

    ‘Gees, I wanna be fucked!’ I exclaimed, almost like an animal on heat. Thrusting my rump in the air so that my pucker was literally screaming for attention.

    ‘You that fuckin’ hot?’ Pete smirked, relishing my request for attention. Which, as I had discovered, he was only too willing to give.

    ‘Fuck, yeah …’ I groaned. Licking my finger and then reaching back to thrust it into my own crack. ‘I need a cock both ends, man! I need to be spit-roasted like a fucking pig!’

    Pete had never seen me this horny, I’m sure. But it was more than enough to get both him and his pal worked up into quite a frenzy. For indeed before I had chance to realise, my boss had slipped up behind me and worked the end of his aching shaft into my ass. Whilst the blond forced his way to the front of me, thrusting his hips into my face. Giving me over half-a-foot of raw meat to consume.

    Which I did with some real pride, I can assure you. Sucking the entire length of ass-filler into my mouth, as Pete rammed harder and deeper into my guts. Stretching and filling the shit-tube like he just didn’t fucking care.

    Which suited me fine. Because all I wanted was their cream. All I required was a mouthful of man-milk to swallow and a butt-load of jizz to dribble down my legs. Just at that precise moment I had two very willing bucks to fulfil the fantasy.

    I don’t know whether my slit was a little too tight, my lips too eager, but it wasn’t at all long before both of those frenzied breeders were reaching the point of no return. Their raw excitement becoming too much for their swollen cum-cells, which by now were no doubt pulsing and churning in anticipation.

    Indeed, I couldn’t help but relish the prospect at hand and pushing the cock in my mouth even nearer to the back of my throat, I laboured for the first splatter of tasty cum.

    All the time Pete hammered away behind me. Touching parts of my innards that had surely never been touched before and which soon would be smeared with a gross but wonderful coating of gland-juice.

    No fucking wonder that I should be boasting a raging hard-on myself. Though my desire for creamy refreshment was so great that I almost barely noticed!

    Instead, I continued to gyrate my hips hard into Pete’s groin, whilst slurping on the thick cock that was knocking against the back of my throat. Because that way I knew I would get the injections of fresh cum that I so desperately craved.

    Pete’s friend started to groan now. Tossing his head in apparent rapture, as his balls began to tighten and restrict. Pushing his delicious broth towards its ultimate goal.

    Whilst I gobbled away at his man-rod, lapping at the piss-hole that would (at any given second) reward me for my efforts. Relaxing my throat in anticipation of the deluge.

    ‘Oh fuck!’ he finally exclaimed, unable to contain his tubes any longer. ‘Fuck man, I’m gonna cum! Gees -‘

    That’s it, I thought. Let it all out. Let me take it all in my mouth. Let me swallow every gorgeous drop of your sweet ecstasy! Come on baby, give me your spunk – now!

    It was almost as if he could read my thoughts. For within a split second the venomous rupture had begun, with the first heady spurt of jizz rocketing from the head of his cock to the back of my mouth. A moment later and a second bolt emerged. Blasting across the length of my tongue and promptly following the initial squirt down my hungry gullet.

    While I continued to lap on his pulsing shaft, knowing that there was plenty more cream where the first two wads had come from. Indeed, the guy was on something of a roll now, as a third, fourth and fifth explosion cascaded in my direction – all of which I gobbled down like a dirty bitch. What’s more, my performance was clearly proving to be too much for Pete, who by now was also exclaiming his manly intent in no uncertain terms.

    So as my mouth continued to receive one engorged load, my rectum took hold of another. With Pete gasping for breath as he prepared to cream himself.

    ‘Take my fucking load, you fucking cum-slut!’ he yelled, banging my rump so hard that his balls smacked against my own like a Newton’s Cradle.

    ‘And swallow that fucking load in your mouth!’ he continued desperately, whilst gripping my ass with such force that his fingernails almost tore into my flesh. An act that, if anything, simply encouraged me in my obsession for hot cum all the more.

    Indeed, I needed Pete’s ball-snot like never before now and could think of nothing other than the prospect of it filling my bowels with its unrivalled goodness. For I had pretty much taken everything that his friend had had to offer by this point and had done as Pete had instructed by consuming every sticky drop offered. But my butt was still decidedly empty in comparison – a situation that I guess was not destined to continue for very much longer!

    To prove my point, Pete duly obliged. Grunting his brutal satisfaction, as his man-glands finally yielded their rich, fertile contents. Filling me up like I was a cheap whore.

    Mind, let’s face it. That was pretty much an accurate description of me by now.

    Indeed, what happened next was fairly fitting to the way others viewed my character. As Pete flipped me over onto my back, then parted my legs and pushed them into the air, so that he and his pal could use their fingers to scoop as much cum as possible out of my frothy slit.

    ‘Open wide then, cum pig!’ Pete grinned, with a handful of his baby-splat to share.

    ‘Yeah,’ the blond encouraged, with an equal measure of brew, ‘suck it all down!’

    Which is exactly what I did. Throwing my tongue right out so as to take every last drip of Pete’s fizz. Before gulping it into my belly with a very contented smile on my lips.

    ‘That real tasty …?’ Pete finally teased, as I lay sucking their fingers.

    I nodded my approval. ‘Yeah …’ I groaned. Feeling full, yet yearning for more.

    ‘You really are one sick dude!’ he then laughed. ‘You know that?’

    ‘Of course!’ I agreed, before admitting that I could never get enough of the stuff.

    Pete’s gave a devilish smile. ‘That so?’ he acknowledged, glancing across to his friend. His mind clearly whirring into overdrive, but choosing to say nothing more.

    Indeed, several weeks passed after that particular evening without any indication of what Pete might be planning. During which time I was pretty much a loose-cannon on the scene. Meeting up one night with one guy and sucking him dry, then another the next. Fuck knows how much sperm I savoured, but one thing was for sure – I couldn’t get enough of the magical nectar! For my appetite was insatiable, as I was shortly to demonstrate.

    Be it sweet spunk or salty spunk. Thick, gloopy spunk or runny, watery spunk. It didn’t matter to me. So long as it came squirting out of hard, throbbing cocks and filled either my belly or my bowels, I didn’t really care.

    Which is perhaps just as well, given what was to happen.

    For unbeknown to me, Pete was organising a lock-in at the bar with a difference. A rampant, no-holds-barred orgy that would involve in excess of fifty very horny guys and which would not only bring my ultimate fantasy to life, but also confirm my status as a number one cum-slut.

    It began innocuously enough. With an apparently innocent cell-call from my boss, asking me to come over to his flat above the bar. True, it was late. But there was nothing to directly raise my suspicions and it was only when I arrived and was escorted by Pete into the crowded bar of half-naked studs that I first began to wonder what was planned.

    ‘We’ve been having a bit of a collection for you over the last few days,’ Pete finally explained. ‘Something I think a guy like you is really going to appreciate …’

    With that I was presented with a pint glass. Filled not with beer, as one might expect. But almost to the brim with spunk. A whole pint of nad-juice, for my own delectation.

    I didn’t need to be told what to do. I mean let’s face it man, I’d lived for this moment ever since I could ever remember and there was no way that I was gonna let the side down now by asking for instructions.

    As such, I grabbed hold of the glass and sniffed the heady brew. Then lifted it to my lips and started to drink. Gulping the briny goodness down, whilst the guys around me began to cheer their wild appreciation.

    ‘Go, boy, go!’ they yelled emphatically. Whilst I carried on, never stopping for breath. An achievement that appeared only to encourage the crowd all the more.

    Finally, I supped the dregs and raised the glass in victory. Wiping my spunky lips as I did so. Pete later informed me that it had taken over one hundred shots to fill that glass, donated over a week by his customers and kept in his freezer until that evening – but right then statistics hardly mattered. Because now my boss had taken me by the hand and led me through the mass of guys to the next stage of our entertainment: a leather sling, which (having stripped me of my clothes) I was promptly chained into.

    I was completely at the mercy of all those guys now, with my legs strapped high and parted and my tender pucker fully exposed for all to see. But there was no denying that it was a dream come true. Noting that several of the dudes were already slipping out of their clothes and that one guy had even brought a camcorder to capture the occasion, I sank back into the harness so as to enjoy the full extent of the ride.

    A thick, hard cock fell into my face. Whilst a drop of lube greased my man-cunt. Before I knew it, I was being buggered in all directions. With a shaft pumping my mouth, another pummelling me up the rear and a bevy of cocks for me to hold in each hand. What’s more, the guys quickly began to change places, so that my ass found itself accommodating a succession of hard weapons. Some big, some not so big. Some cut, some uncut. But all more than capable of producing the one substance that I loved so very much and which had brought me to this moment.

    Needless to say, it wasn’t long before that heavenly essence began to show itself once again. With several of the guys shooting up my once-tight hole and making it sloppy and oh-so-very-tempting in the process.

    As such, few of the guys there seemed able to thrust their hips more than a dozen times before blowing. Whilst those around my head jerked themselves off into my mouth, matting my eyes and much of my hair in the creamy stench in the process.

    All the time, such perversion was accompanied by gasping and grunting. Whilst the camera played nonchalantly away, recording load after generous load of liquid ecstasy.

    Fuck knows how much jizz I took that night. But by the time the mob was spent, cum was dripping from my every orifice and my stomach was filled to bursting with a thick layer of man-seed. Whatever the exact volume, it was surely some kind of record!

    Little wonder that I should have such a broad smile on my handsome face. Or that Pete should declare me as the cum-king of Toronto and that my ‘act’ would be a regular feature of his bar in future.

    So it has proved. Which is just as well, given that my craving for spunk remains as passionate and intense as ever.

    What’s more, my all-too-frequent protein injections appear to have boasted Pete’s profits several-fold. Testimony, it would appear, to my unquestionable taste for lashings of that most intimate of male secretions.

    So if you’re ever in Toronto, call in at Pete’s bar. You’re sure of a warm welcome, especially if you come with stuffed balls and a willingness to deposit your load of hot cum.

    After all, I’m never happier than when I’m full and satisfied. Brimming with the cherished nectar, with the taste still fresh on my tongue.

    For I am nothing less than a walking, talking sperm-bank. Guaranteed to suck every life-giving tadpole from your sweaty crotch, before swallowing with a happy gulp.

    Not bad for a one-time virgin from the wilds of New Brunswick.

    Yeah, guys. I hope to see you all real soon …


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


  • And Still Champion

    Duke Walker stood under the burning needles of the shower in his bathroom while letting the hot water waft over his well muscled body! Oh man was he ever tired, ten long hours on that hot roof laying shingles was enough to sap the strength of anyone, and he was a twenty five year old in great physical condition!!! The only good part of the job was the view!!! High on a hill overlooking San Francisco Bay, it was exactly what you’d expect to find on a picture postcard and luckily for him he pretty much got to see it every single day of the year!!! As he water continued to caress his sun tanned form, his mind began to wander as he thought about the events of this coming evening, and the big uncut bone hanging between his legs began to stiffen ever so slightly as he pictured his big cock being sucked by any number of other hung studs at the Gay Gallery Bar on Castro Street!!! A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he began slowly squeezing and jerking his huge pecker, and after only several minutes of fisting, his hand had become a blur as it rifled up and down the thick shaft until it convulsed hard several times before erupting all over the shower stall wall!!!

    After flopping down on the bed for a one hour nap, Duke carefully selected his wardrobe for the evening, and while it really didn’t matter what he wore, he made sure that the tight bikini underwear showed of his nine and a half inch hammer to its best view!!! The bright red material of the silk shorts stood out starkly against his sun tanned skin, and what was even more impressive was how after he rolled up his nut bag and pecker into a tight ball it looked for all the world like someone had stuck a softball into his undies!!! More than one stud had merely gotten a glimpse of Duke’s bikini cover groin and nearly fainted dead away at the awesome sight that it presented!!! In the San Francisco gay community having a big cock was more than just a status symbol, because if you were blessed with a large penis, you pretty much had your pick of all the young teen and early twenties bitches you could get your hands on!!! Not only did these young men have the best bodies, but they also were still pliable enough to do just about anything you told them to, and being damn grateful to boot!!! Duke gave one last look into the full length mirror, and after being satisfied that everything was just right, he left his apartment and headed downtown!!!

    Like every Saturday night Castro Street was gay-lesbian street USA, and every conceivable combination of sexual life style was represented in one way or the other!!!

    There were bull dykes with their little fems trailing behind them on leashes as well as butch bikers dressed in leather from head to toe, flaunting their genitals in leather jock straps that did little to hide the erect prizes that were barely hidden inside!!! Duke didn’t begrudge any of them their lifestyle, but for him it was a thing to be done behind closed doors, or at least out of the view of the general public!!! As he made his way through the bustling crowd, a young man of about twenty two called to him as he passed the front of and alley and whispered hoarsely, Hey, buddy, watch me jerk myself off, you don’t have to touch it or anything, just watch me cum, okay!?! Duke shrugged his shoulders, and after giving it a moments thought nodded his head and replied, Sure, fella, go ahead, show me what you’ve got!!! The young man, totally thankful that someone had finally stopped, opened up his long trench coat revealing a very hard if not to large erection that was literally begging to shoot its load!!! H-how does it look, he stammered while Duke watched with slight bemusement at the young man’s chutzpah!!! Uh, really nice, Duke replied gently, atta guy, show me what good jerk off you can be!!! That did it, the young man’s legs quivered back and forth, and after taking a moment to steady himself, a hot load of young gay spunk rocketed out of this hard dick splashing a shower of cum on the pavement in front of him!!! The young man leaned heavily against the wall next to him and as his coat flopped closed covering his now deflating pecker, he nodded his head and thanked Duke for his time!!!

    Duke Walker, a man yelled from across the crowded bar, where the hell have ya been!?! Duke waved his hand in recognition of his friend, but before making his way over to him, he stopped at the bar and ordered a draft while checking out all the action

    floating around dance floor! There were several new faces in the crowd, and one in particular caught his interest as it did every other man in the place, a twenty something black man who was dancing up storm in just a leather jock strap and sandals!!! Who’s the fresh talent, Duke asked as his friend Tyler slipped up along side of him, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him here before!?! Tyler took a drink of his beer, and raising his voice over the din of the music he replied, His name is Shaker, no one knows anything else about him, except that from what I hear he’s hung like a fucking horse!!! Duke just nodded his head and went back to the rear booth with Tyler where they quickly began necking and feeling up each others pecker!!!

    As the night wore on the atmosphere became raunchier and raunchier until many of the men had their cocks out of their pants and were lasciviously displaying themselves for everyone to see!!! Duke sat back quietly in his booth and offered no resistance when

    Tyler pulled out his big cock and began sucking him right then and there for all he was worth!!! Say what you will about Tyler, he was a true cocksucker that just couldn’t get enough dick in his hot sperm loving mouth, and while Duke watched the parade of peckers passing within inches of his table, his huge cock twitched hard, and just like Old Faithful erupted in Tyler’s mouth like an mini geyser!!! Duke never even changed his expression as he eyed each and every prick go by, that is until Shaker came into view with what Duke thought might have been the biggest cock he had ever seen in his life!!! Pushing Tyler off of his hard meat, Duke stood up in Shaker’s path, and almost like two gunslingers in the old west they stood three feet apart with their huge erections bobbing menacingly in front of them!!!

    The two studs eyed each other carefully, trying to take the measure of the other, when almost like lightning Duke leaped on the startled young man, and after only brief struggle forced him down face first on the table, and without so much as a word of warning, rammed his nine and a half inches of hot steel into the stunned man’s rectum!!! To Duke it was a badge of honor to be top stud at the Gallery and no punk bitch pretender was gonna come in here and take his place with out a fight!!! Struggling feebly to escape his captor, the young black stud began to moan louder and louder with each thrust as his tight little bung hole was viciously violated by the incessant pounding being administered by Dukes massive erection!!! Almost all of the other surrounding activity had come to a crashing halt as everyone it the place watched Duke put the young pup in his place!!! Yelps and shouts of give it to him good, Duke and make him your fucking bitch

    came whistling out of the crowd, which only tended to excite him even more as he poured the coals to his defenseless victim!!!

    As scores of hot hung men jerked their peckers with total abandon, Duke finally couldn’t hold back any longer, and as he roared like a lion on the African plains, his big dick convulsed over and over again as it spurted load after load deep inside the bowels of his beaten opponent!!! As Duke’s pecker finally slipped free and swayed gently back and forth in the evening air, the young black stud slowly got up and after turning around smiled slowly before raising Duke’s hand in a salute of victory, he was still the champion of the Gallery!!! Just to show that there were no hard feeling, Duke gave good old Tyler the high sign, and seconds later he was on his knees in front of Shaker sucking him off like it was the most natural thing to do!!! After having filled Tyler’s mouth with a huge load of spunk, Shaker shook hands with Duke and in a true spirit of friendship, bought him another beer!!!

    THE END


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


  • A Star Is Porn

    ‘You know what’s the only difference between a movie star and a gay porn star?’

    I shook my head, with a naive, twenty-one year old grin. ‘No, sir,’ I replied.

    Vicar puffed on a cigar, pushing himself back into his director’s chair. ‘Both suck cock to make it in the film business. But the one’s more honest about it than the other. Which is why I prefer dudes like you,’ he continued. ‘You’re up-front about your motives. You’ve got good looks and want to make money from it – and who the fuck can blame you? But you’re not like these Hollywood divas. Blowing the director behind the scenes and then denying it after they’ve made their name! Like we don’t know it goes on! No, porn stars are sincere – and I respect that. They suck cock. They fuck ass. Just like these big-name movie stars. But they make no secret about it. What’s more,’ he added, puckering on the cigar again, ‘you don’t get me asking wanna-bes to blow me off to secure their part in a film! Fuck, they can say what they like about my flicks, but no-one’s ever got a part other than by means of their own ability. And gees, I’ve got every single casting couch on film to prove it!’

    He chuckled to himself, but it did little to remove my feeling of uncertainty. Fact is, I’d never done anything like this before and I still wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to manage it when the time came. After all, it was only way too natural to jerk off in private. But in front of a camera, with Dane Vicar and a couple of cameramen filming me from every conceivable direction – well, that was a different matter entirely.

    ‘You gotta pretend we ain’t here,’ the director continued, almost as if he could read me mind. ‘Just imagine you’re in your room at home and that you’ve just watched some horny flick on TV …’

    But that was a whole lot easier said than done.

    So let me tell me about myself.

    And perhaps more to the point, how I got to be sitting with my pants round my ankles, surrounded by a film crew in the offices of BellaDonna Studios, Sacramento.

    My name’s Scott Beattie and I hailed originally from Toledo, Ohio. When I was twelve my folks moved near Pittsburgh, which was where I met Sally, with whom I sort of had an on-off relationship throughout my teens. To be frank, I always sort of thought it’d work out with her, but it wasn’t to be. Fact is she went off to Long Island when we were twenty, leaving me to my dead-end factory job back home. That’s where I’d be now, I’m sure, if it wasn’t for a chance encounter with one of Vicar’s scouts in Atlantic City. They were cruising for good-looking, outgoing guys in need of pay for a bit of modelling (as they put it) and I sniffed an interest. Well, what had I got to lose? Besides, I was always strapped for cash and this seemed the answer to my prayers.

    A few weeks later and I was summoned to a private meeting with another scout back in Pittsburgh. This dude appeared even more convinced of my potential. Said I’d give Brad Pitt a run for his money and that the company he worked for would provide me the opportunity to go as far as I liked with my looks. Which was when he asked me whether I’d be prepared to do some nude shots should the need arise – a question that amazed me, I must admit. Fuck, I must’ve been dumb! But at the time it just never occurred to me that I was being groomed for a business I didn’t even know existed.

    Several months passed and I began to think that nothing was gonna come of it. Until they mailed me from California, asking me to attend a photo-shoot with the company’s director, Dane Vicar. He introduced me to some of his crew, as well as a couple of other guys who he was interviewing for ‘positions’. Then proceeded to literally charm the pants off me!

    Even now I can’t quite believe how he managed it, but Vicar was a seasoned operator and knew exactly which buttons to press to allay my inhibitions. His main leverage being the good old-fashioned greenback. For as he stressed, the further I was prepared to go for him, the more bucks would be mine – and that, somewhat naturally, was the biggest incentive anyone could’ve laid for any young man.

    Which brings me to my screen-test. For having checked my birth-certificate and taken a blood-test, Vicar swept me into a room, sat me down in a chair, and informed me that I had everything going for me to be something big. The looks, the personality – and (as he discovered when I slipped out of my clothes for him for the very first time) the equipment. Well let’s face it, eight inches of uncut cock went a long, long way with Vicar!

    ‘Okay,’ he sighed, lying back in his chair. ‘In your own time now …’

    I paused momentarily, glancing round me. ‘Actually, Sir,’ I gasped. ‘I don’t think I can do this. It’s just – well, I’m not – I’m not gay!’

    Vicar laughed. ‘What the fuck’s that gotta do with things?’ he exclaimed. ‘You think you’re unique or something? Gees, I’m asking you to jerk yourself off, not give me a blow-job! Although if that’s something that interests you like …’

    ‘Maybe I’ll go home,’ I suggested, reaching for my pants.

    ‘Well, that’s up to you,’ the governor shrugged. ‘But it’d be a big shame. I mean, do you really wanna be factory-fodder for the rest of your days? Eh? Or do you like the idea of driving a cool car? Owning a nice house? Having enough money in the bank to do what you like, when you like …’

    ‘But -‘

    ‘It’s acting,’ he promptly reminded me. ‘You don’t have to be gay! Just like Judy Garland didn’t need to own a dog called Toto to be in The Wizard of Oz! You just need to convince your audience. You just need to sell yourself on-screen!’

    I took a deep breath. I mean, his words made sense. Perfect sense. So much sense, in fact, that I immediately slipped out of my pants again and grabbed hold of my hose. Working my fingers up and down the entire length of my meat.

    ‘That’s it, man,’ Vicar smiled. ‘Just imagine none of us are here …’

    In hindsight, I wonder what I was worried about.

    But at the time – during those first few moments of filming – it all felt so surreal.

    As I continued to stroke myself. My hand rolling back and forth, yanking my skin over my crimson helmet, before pulling it back to reveal the full extent of my hard length.

    Whilst Vicar sat nonchalantly by. The cameras whirring in the background, capturing every exquisite detail of boyish charm.

    Of course, they’d seen it all before. Had watched a thousand young studs work themselves up into a climatic frenzy.

    Yet for me this was all completely new. And very exciting.

    For within less than a minute I had slipped into the roll of wanton frat. Was even daring to momentarily glance towards the camera, whilst running my tongue across my lip.

    Above all, was acting out the role of a young, horny male. Whose body was rushing with hormones, and whose only desire was to squeeze my own tight balls dry.

    Fuck, it felt good. The touch of my skin upon my aching flesh, as I now cupped my cum-sac with my one hand, teasing its dark, curly hairs as I did so.

    Whilst an ooze of delicious slick dribbled from the end of my shaft. Coating my long, thick shaft with a generous layer of excitement, as the one cameraman zoomed up closer to my pleasure. An undeniable bulge beginning to show in his pants.

    Not that Vicar showed any such emotion. Which served only to make me more intent on seducing him. Working my young magic on his crusty, middle-aged soul. Making him wish that he was nineteen again, when a lad is full of energy and bursting with gallons of hot jizz.

    As such, I let out the very slightest of groans. Half-closing my cornflower eyes. Biting my lips as if to prevent me from producing the fanatical spray that I longed to bring forth.

    Playing the part of a hot, gay fucker. Me – who’d never even thought of having sex with anyone other than a girl. My concentration fixed on the pay-check, though in reality I was privately enjoying my own performance. Savouring my first hazy steps into immortality.

    I knew it was the money-shot that interested Vicar most. He seemed that sort of guy.

    What’s more, it was what interested me the most too. I mean like the name implied, it was what all this was about. Fuck, it was one thing to look the part of a stud, but I knew that a healthy spurt of spunk was essential if I was gonna clinch the deal here and I couldn’t help but sense a hint of anxiety as I reached the point of no return.

    After all, I needed the next few moments to be good. I needed to grasp Vicar’s rigid attention, so that I could literally throttle a contract out of the guy.

    Above all, I needed him to want me. I needed every gay guy in the world to want me! So that Vicar would demand my signature on the dotted line and free me from the humdrum world of Pittsburgh in the process.

    ‘Fuck!’ I screeched, as the weight of spunk welled at the base of my shaft. My face screwing up in the ecstasy of cum-birth. ‘I’m gonna cum, man!’

    With that, the first heady bolt of juice ruptured from my slit. Blasting into the air with breathtaking force, before splattering across my belly.

    It was a shot in a million and a momentary glance towards Vicar told me that I had already secured my place. For his earlier careless ease had now transformed itself into keen interest, as I continued to involuntarily force a whole cascade of sperm out of the end of my swollen knob-end. Wad after thick, generous wad of purest excitement. Plastering my skin with the sticky richness of youth in the process.

    A final spurt concluded my fiery exhibition, before I gasped back into my chair, and began to realise exactly what I had done.

    I mean, gees, I’d actually jerked off in front of someone else! Had allowed someone to film me performing this grossly intimate act! Had exposed myself in a way that hitherto I wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing!

    It was a realisation that left me feeling decidedly edgy. For although I have privately enjoyed the experience of showman, there was still that element of guilt. That feeling of dirtiness. That sense of having crossed a moral Rubicon.

    Though Vicar’s flattery meant that it didn’t last very long!

    Fact is, he’d got me wrapped round his finger before I even realised it. Talking of his next flick and suggesting that it wouldn’t be too long before I would have opportunity to appear in a scene or two of my own.

    ‘You play your cards right,’ he smiled, ‘and I think you could have some very interesting years ahead of you, young man …’

    With that he sent me off for a shower.

    Over the next few weeks I gradually ceased to be Scott Beattie.

    For my acting name would be Luke Meyer, and with my new identity came fresh bravado. My initial reservations slowly transformed into a more cocky, self-assured identity.

    Not that I was completely without my doubts when Vicar finally insisted in the next stage of my progress. For having filmed me jerking off on several occasions, I arrived at the studio one morning to find myself introduced to two established stars – Jamie Arch and Mikey Williams. Who, I was promptly informed, were being paid to take my cherry.

    And all in front of a camera crew!

    There was a real mix of emotions inside my head when I was first told of the plan.

    A buzz of excitement. But also a real fear that I was gonna let the others down.

    I mean let’s face it, I’d never been fucked before. Had never even thought of the idea until very recently. And I felt sure that I was unlikely to live up to Vicar’s expectations.

    Yet my two co-stars proved to be two of the coolest guys I could’ve ever hoped to meet – nothing like the sort of screwed-up, self-obsessed individuals I might’ve imagined. They talked, they laughed. And by the time I’d had my pre-filming enema, I felt that I couldn’t have asked for two nicer dudes to ease me into the profession.

    Fact is, I was actually looking forward to the experience by the time we took to set, and (like many a novice) was perhaps just that little too eager to start.

    But Vicar was every inch the professional. Had made the studio’s name by being so. And taking firm control, he ordered the three of us into our starting positions. Three horny young guys, ready to suck and fuck our way to ecstasy.

    I’d never kissed another man before I first kissed Mikey – a tall, dark, heavily muscled individual, with a reputation for sporting quite a weapon between his legs. But it was nowhere near as different to kissing a girl as I imagined.

    Besides, what reservations I had were very firmly countered by the prospect of cashing my pay-check. A thought that, if anything, simply turned me on all the more.

    For there was something truly erotic about being paid to have sex. And indeed it was only at that moment that I finally realised the truth about my new profession. About Vicar, and about the two guys he had chosen to ram their cocks up my virgin ass.

    Quite simply, these guys were prostitutes. Paid to fuck on camera. Whilst their boss was a glorified pimp. The brothel-keeper, who had built an empire for himself by employing handsome studs to act out the fantasies of his viewing public. Young men like myself, who not only had the necessary looks, but who were ready to open their holes in exchange for a healthy financial reward.

    Yes, the fact was that I was now a fully paid-up hooker. A realisation that should surely have shocked me, but which instead just left me feeling hornier and hotter than ever.

    I don’t think I could justifiably describe the boner I had in my pants as the cameras started to roll. Gees, it was straining like fury. Eight inches of pulsing man-meat, which almost groaned with relief when Jamie, a blond with deep-set blue eyes, finally unzipped my pants and unleashed the dripping shaft.

    Not that he was initially allowed to slip his mouth over my aching crown. For Vicar promptly interrupted filming, and a succession of camera moves followed. After all, the director’s primary objective at all times was to capture every exquisite detail of our action, aware that no other attitude would satisfy his audience. For his reputation was for raw, no-holds-barred material, and the eventual customer, sat in the comfort of his own home, did not want subtlety. No, he wanted to closely witness every orifice as it was filled, every hard penetration as it happened. What’s more, this particular scene was destined to be sold on the entire premise of my deflowering. For, as Vicar himself had explained, seeing young men fucked for the first time was highly popular amongst his fan-base, and there was no doubt in his mind that sales of my wanton desecration would not disappoint.

    The action resumed, and Jamie was at last given leave to gorge on my shaft. Pulling back the skin and observing the sticky delights underneath, before opening his hungry mouth and feeding on the tasty pole.

    Not that this was the first time I had ever been blown, of course. Sally, for one, had had her share of my manhood in her time. But it was the first time that I had been gobbled by another guy, and to be honest the whole experience came as a shock.

    For I’d never expected a man to be so fucking good with his tongue!

    I mean let’s face it, giving head was for women – not guys! Yet here was Jamie, slurping on my pole with a passion and intensity that no woman could ever show. Running his mouth over just those parts of my cock that brought me greatest pleasure. Feeding on my flesh with such rampant professionalism that I honestly wondered whether I would ever want anything other than a guy hanging off my cock again.

    What’s more, my conversion seemed complete when Mikey leaned down and began to do pretty much the same. The two of them now almost fighting for my rod like a couple of whores. Whilst the cameramen moved in and out amongst us, recording the event.

    ‘Cut!’ declared Vicar suddenly, before instructing the two boys to hold their positions whilst a photographer took some stills. The camera closing in to a succession of snaps.

    ‘Okay, guys,’ the director now continued. ‘You’re doing well …’

    With that we returned to our acting. Mikey setting more of the pace now, as he worked himself down to my balls and began to suck on those two sweet orbs.

    Whilst another camera seemed to come up from underneath to observe him. Whirring away as it detailed his lengthy tongue running over my hairy, wrinkled skin. Working the heavy cum-sac that nestled between my legs.

    ‘Cut!’ came the cry again. As I was instructed to put my one leg up onto a chair, exposing my slit in the process. Before a further succession of stills were taken.

    ‘Action!’ And the two returned to my oral manipulation. By which point the constant interruptions had slowly helped me understand the base reality here. That Vicar held no affection for any of us, but was rather using us as pawns for his own financial purpose. We each had a commercial value to him – nothing more, nothing less. And so long as we maintained that value, by means of our hard cocks and heavy balls, we would maintain his favour. Otherwise, our careers would be cut short without the slightest sentimentality.

    Strangely, however, this realisation did not discourage me.

    Instead, it merely turned me on all the more. Made me even more determined to perform for his approval. For we were his sluts. His crude fornicators. And I for one was adamant that we would end this present scene as credits to his business.

    What’s more, to prove it, I would now surrender my anal virginity for the pleasure of all his desperate customers.

    I had no choice in who fucked me first. Vicar was adamant it would be Jamie.

    Then grinned. ‘I wanna see that virgin ass of yours slapped real good!’ he remarked. ‘The value of my shares are dependent on it!’

    I actually liked his style, but was unsure now that the moment of consummation had finally arrived. ‘Will it hurt?’ I quizzed.

    Vicar laughed. ‘Gees, if I had a dollar for every time a straight guy’s asked me that! No, man – not if it’s done properly. And believe me, I’ve picked just the right dudes here to make sure that’s what happens! Fuck, Jamie and Mikey have broken in more young fillies than you’ve had hand-jobs!’

    The two guys gave disarming, toothy smiles, but I was still a little fazed even when I’d been placed with my butt in the air and Mikey was rimming my ass for the camera.

    Fact is, I just didn’t know what to expect, though my attention was distracted by Vicar’s instruction for Jamie to stand in front of me, so as to allow him to thrust his throbbing manhood into my mouth.

    I mean gees, I’d never given a blow before, and just seeing the guy’s cock looking me straight in the eye was enough to take my breath away. Still, it was too late to back out now, and grasping the solid base of shaft, I pulled back his skin to reveal the delicious crimson head that was nestling underneath just for me.

    ‘Cut!’ snapped the director again, as my tongue made final impact on that drooling end. At which, a few more snaps were taken, whilst another camera swung underneath to capture the action from below.

    Fuck, if only Sally could’ve seen me!!

    ‘Action!’ barked the instruction. Jamie’s shaft slowly slipped over my tongue. Pushing a salty trail of pre-cum into my mouth, which if anything tasted far better than I had imagined.

    Indeed, there was no disguising the enthusiasm that I soon began to display on the length of the guy’s love-rod, as I sucked harder on his flesh. Gorging on his meat, whilst the cameras closed in on either side to record my youthful escapade.

    What’s more, I hardly noticed that Mikey had started to finger my ring. Lubing it will a little grease, then sliding the digit in and out of the widening hole.

    In fact, it was only when the feeling in my rump gained a decidedly pleasurable air – as Mikey started to thrust two fingers deep into the cavern – that I really took any notice of what was happening behind me. For sucking Jamie’s cock was even more incredible than I had ever imagined, particularly given the thought that I was only doing it in exchange for payment. Like a cheap whore, I had surrendered whatever dignity I once had, and was clearly now willing to do literally anything in exchange for the next dollar.

    ‘Cut!’ Vicar snorted once again. And with the instruction came one to Mikey to slip his shaft into a rubber. The time had finally come for my rectum to be well and truly stuffed!

    Several hands promptly lubed my ass again, whilst the cameras whistled round us. Securing the best positions like the paparazzi.

    At which point the director grabbed hold of Mikey’s rod and nestled it up against my crack. With such matter-of-factness that I couldn’t help but be reminded of our place in the scheme of this business. That we were mere chattels. Valued only for our good looks and our willing dicks. And whose role it was to squeeze as much money from the viewing punters as was possible.

    ‘Right,’ Vicar now proclaimed, ‘I want to get the look on the bottom’s face as he gets fucked. And another camera underneath the top so that we get to see the cock go in!’

    Gees, it was just all so cold. So emotionless. But in hindsight I’m amazed that I thought it would be any different. For we were merely performing a service. Doing a job. Acting before the cameras, just like those stars in Hollywood do all the time. As such there was no reason for any subsequent guilt, save perhaps for the thought that we might have performed better given another chance. Which again merely encouraged me to do the best that I could. To prove my worthiness for being here at all.

    If someone had ever told me beforehand that I would spend four hours solid having sex with two guys before a cascade of cameras, I wouldn’t have believed them. But that’s exactly what happened. What’s more, I can’t begin to describe how much I enjoyed it.

    Just the thrill of being brazenly fucked up the ass for the cash. Just the knowledge that I was sucking cock as a means to gain financial security. Just knowing that my ultimate cum-shot was my claim on Vicar’s commercial reward. Gees, it was fucking hot!

    What’s more, I knew that I’d be more than willing to do it again. And again.

    I was addicted. But fuck, I’d only just begun!

    Vicar must have liked what he saw, because the next thing I knew I was being signed up for more action. Another threesome, this time for his internet site. Followed by a scene in his latest DVD release, where I was fucked over a desk by the great Tom Columbia.

    Indeed, over the next twelve months I was popping back and forth to Sacramento with feverish regularity, whilst my bank balance slowly gained respectability. A veritable hooker now, I could say nothing to my folks back in Pittsburgh, whilst all my free-time appeared to be spent saving myself for my next performance on screen. No jacking-off for me! For cum was the very fuel to my ambition, and any filming schedule was approached with almost monkish abstinence. After all, my next pay-cheque depended on it.

    Meantime, the name of Luke Meyer gained notoriety. Never more so than when Vicar decided that it was time to make me a megastar. To take me and eleven other guys from the BellaDonna stable (most of whom had probably fucked me in their time) to Key West, to film a bareback feature by the name of Cum Bucks.

    By now, whatever reservations I might have once had were long since forgotten. Besides, I was not only going to be the cover-star for the flick and given opportunity to top, but was also being rewarded with a significant increase in pay for acting au natural. As a result, I arrived in Florida with excitement in my belly and more than enough spunk in my balls. Well let’s face it, to have arrived with anything less would’ve been almost disrespectful!

    As always, I didn’t tell my folks where I was going or what I was doing – somehow I got the feeling they wouldn’t have approved of my choice in career! Still, I was a big boy now and the money I was getting more than compensated for the tiring nature of the trade.

    For let’s be honest now, Vicar was a tough taskmaster. As I had discovered, he sure as fuck didn’t like slackers and expected everyone on set to give their very best. He had little time for those who couldn’t get hard or who needed fluffers. Less still for those who couldn’t spunk a thick, heavy load at will. Which suited me just fine, given that was pretty much one of my party pieces.

    Indeed, it was such propensity I’m sure that gave me the reward of Shay Bamber, a newcomer to the set, whose ass I was set to fill on the side of an open-air pool. He was a pretty twink, with jet black hair, green eyes and a lean, handsome frame, but you could tell he was nervous from the very first moment we stepped on set.

    ‘Hey, you gonna be alright,’ I assured him, remembering my own first time.

    He glanced across and smiled. ‘They tell me you’re big,’ he remarked.

    I grinned. ‘Yep,’ I confirmed. ‘But just think of the money you’ll get!’

    ‘Yeah,’ he smiled. ‘I’ve got my eye on a Ferrari. Think I might just be able to put down a deposit after this.’

    ‘Well, you just think of that Ferrari whilst I’m pummelling your sweet young butt!’

    Did he think about it? I have no idea. But you can take it from me that I thought about little else as we filmed that scene together. Fuck, just to think that he was parting his legs and allowing me to slip my naked cock up his man-cunt in exchange for a deposit on a car was enough to get me feeling hotter than I had ever felt in my life. For the sense of power it gave was like a rampant aphrodisiac, my cock straining at the leash as I was finally given permission to thrust into the untouched den inside.

    Poor thing yelped as I first slammed home, my hairy balls slapping against him with a heavy thud. But I noted Vicar’s smile and knew it would only add to the value of the flick. As a result, I continued my pounding. Whilst young Shay grasped onto the lounge beneath him for dear life, taking care not to knock the cameras that were recording our horny union.

    All in all, I had my cock inside him for the best part of three hours that day, thanks to the director’s constant interruptions, so I sure as hell think we earned our money. Not that the bottom fulfilled his part of the bargain. Fazed by the occasion, he couldn’t cum, resulting in a standby providing the money shot and taking half of the youngster’s pay. It was a hard lesson, but perhaps a fair one, and, as Vicar pointed out, would help concentrate his mind on his performance next time. As for me – well, I squirted the holy nectar all over the youngster’s back, so that it literally dribbled off him and onto the camera beneath. Not exactly what was on the script, admittedly, but the director for one was not gonna complain.

    It’s cruel I know, but I couldn’t help putting my own deposit on the youngster’s car the next day. Offering him a ride in it to the airport, and taking opportunity to emphasise just how cool it felt to drive.

    Then I finally pulled up by the sidewalk and turned to face him.

    ‘You know what’s the only difference between a movie star and a porn star?’ I asked.

    He shook his head, with a naive grin.

    ‘Well, both suck cock to make it big. But one’s more honest about it than the other.’

    And with that I handed him the keys. ‘You deserve it for your honesty,’ I smiled.

    His face beamed in delight. ‘I dunno what to say,’ he gasped.

    ‘Just promise you won’t jerk off just hours before filming next time,’ I noted.

    He blushed knowingly.

    ‘You know it’s not everyone who gets paid to get fucked,’ I reminded him. ‘This can be a great job, so don’t blow it! Next time, save yourself for the camera.’

    With that we parted.

    I wasn’t sure whether he’d take my words to heart. But I for one was sure of my own destiny. True, it had its downside, but being a grossly overpaid hooker beat a dead-end blue-collar job any day.

    And next time you feel tempted to mock my sort, don’t you forget it.


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


  • The lonely road

    I walked across an island. It was a barren, arid place that the sun had relentlessly tortured for millions of years before. Each rock bore testimony to the span of timelessness as they waited by the path for some new traveller to walk past and ignore them; to ignore their history and their suffering. But I appreciated them as I sat a while and gazed across the rough, naked landscape, searching. For what? There were no living souls for miles, hardly a tree survived in the blasting heat so why would I expect there to be people there.

    Not people, a person. Only a myth maybe, but a myth is still a hope.

    I had been told, by those who said they knew and those who believed, that the myth was real. The old men who sat out their days in the silence of the village below had assured me. When they had discovered that I was interested in their myth they had broken their routine for me, had spoken and had wished me luck in my search; a search which had brought me to a high part of the island.

    I could see nothing in this wilderness save for the sun battered rocks, the aggressive sharp bushes that clung desperately to life like they clung to the dry soil and the far away, flat sea that surrounded everything. It curved with the earth where it met the horizon and faded into the sky at some distant place that I would never reach. Nothing moved up there in the heated still hour, no wind to dry the sweat from my back, no breeze to tantalise me with a promise to cool, and no sound but for the beating of my heart.

    I was alone with only silence for company. Silence and hope.

    Until a rock moved. Somewhere above me on a slope something disturbed the ancient placement of shingle and pebbles. A stone that had been covered for centuries, rolled, jolted into life by the trespass of an alien foot. It trickled down to the path and settled into a new home, adjusted to its change in scenery and fell immediately back to sleep, there to remain unmoved for another thousand years.

    And then more joined it, jostling down the slope beside me and racing to find the best place on the path to lie and wait. An excited chatter of movement signalling that someone was coming down the slope, pushing the debris of time before them as they slid, side foot first, pushing history aside in their descent.

    He didn’t see me. He stepped down to the road with his back to me and, once recovered from the scramble, looked ahead. I said nothing. I had been told that if I were to see him then all I need do was remain silent, watch and accept the signs he would give me. My heart, recently recovered from my own scramble up to this point, began to work itself again. A light skip jolted it into action with the realisation that he had found me and, from then on, it worked to beat itself a steadier rhythm.

    I watched him.

    A young man, slender with strong shoulders, dark hair and bare feet. He wore a roughly made shirt without sleeves that fell free from the back of his shorts. Shorts made from a different, ancient material that held tight to his hips but hung uneven over his dark legs. In one hand he carried a crook, hewn from some long dead tree, gnarled and worn by time. But his hand was smooth, his skin young and unaffected by the harshness of his land. His other hand was raised to his brow, shielding the sun as he searched the horizon ahead.

    I just watched and waited for the sign.

    They had said there would be signs. I should learn to read the omens that the myth decreed would be there. All there was to do was know the signs and follow them. For once you can do that you can then find your treasure. Your dream, your destiny. Call it what you will. To find the thing you seek you must learn to read the signs that are there only for you.

    But I knew that he understood what I was doing there. I knew that he had seen me, had watched me climb the path to this part of the mountain at this hour. We were alone. There was nothing out there but our destiny. He was there for me.

    He bent to collect a stone and I watched as he placed it in his palm, turning it with his fingers and cooling it. He threw it ahead of himself and I watched it fly, saw it glint in the sun and spin as it flew. It soared high before falling back to earth, landing gently and in silence on the path some way ahead.

    And while I had been watching it, the boy had gone. I was alone again. Just me and the sign, the stone that lay shining and bright among its hard, grey companions on the path. I walked to the place and picked it up, put it in my pocket and looked at the road ahead.

    Now it wound to the left where before it had turned to the right. I followed it and descended for a while until I was shielded from the sun by tall Cyprus trees that had grown there only for me. The way became cooler, a breeze moved among the dark green above me and changed the light that dappled the path ahead, showing me my destiny in a display of white light and dark shade, always changing, never standing still.

    Until I came to a gate. A coarsely made collection of branches and dead wood, bound with rope to two standing stones on either side. There was no need for the gate, I could easily walk around the stones and continue on my path. But there was a gate and it was there for a reason. A sign. I untied the labyrinth of knots that bound it on one side and lifted it open. Stepped through, closed it, tied it and walked on.

    He was waiting for me among the rocks. They were not barren anymore. A thick covering of soft moss now grew where once the sun had baked. The earth beneath my feet was now pliable. The air was cooler and damp. On either side of me cliffs rose up, and above them the canopy of leaves now fully protected me from the sun.

    He had put his crook to one side and had discarded his clothes. He lent back against a moss covered boulder, his feet crossed, his arms by his side. And he looked at me while I undressed.

    He looked into me, saw what I wanted, knew what he had to give and lifted his arms, opened them and drew me towards him. His eyes, dark and compassionate, looked deep inside me and drew me closer. When he smiled I knew that I had known him all my life. He had always been there, in dreams, in idle thoughts, in places I had only visited in imagination, he had always been with me. I had just never found him before.

    His arms wrapped around my back and his hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. A slender finger brushed my neck as he pulled my head to rest beside his. He said nothing as he cupped my head in his hand and stroked my hair, calming me, bringing me down to the safety of the peaceful place he lived in. Our chests rose and fell together with our breathing and I felt his heart in its placid rhythm against mine.

    And then he moved my head to look at me again. We said nothing. Nothing was needed. We knew how this was to be. We both knew that this had always been meant. Our lips touched softly as we had always known they would, our breath mingled, and our tongues spoke silent words with each other as they fought and played together like long lost friends. His hands stroked my back, hard nails drawing lines in my flesh until they dropped lower, held me and pulled my hips closer to his. I did the same for him, felt the smoothness of his flesh and the strength of the muscles beneath as my palms travelled down to hold his perfect roundness. I stroked him as he did to me, as we kissed, as our groins met and rolled together.

    His hands came to the front and started stroking me there. Carefully, gently he felt me, drew me up in his soft hand, pulled me back, twisted me, toyed with me. And my hand explored in the same way. My fingertips plied on the solid smoothness of his flesh, felt the weights beneath, brushed through short, soft hair and covered all of him, squeezed, teased, offered whatever he wanted and brought his deep kisses further into me.

    We lay down together on the soft moss covered floor amid the ancient stones.

    His deep kisses were over me, hot and searching. Across my chest, pushing in against my nipples, around them, beneath my arms, down my sides, across my stomach, to the top of my legs, lower to my knees, he played on the tops of my feet with his mouth and with his hands. The pains from the journey were kissed away into numbness as his gentle fingers made circles on my flesh, as his mouth searched new places, started to travel back upwards all the time tasting me, feeding from me. Until he found my hardness with his soft lips and took me tenderly, slowly, deeply within him.

    We had done this before. In waking dreams he had come to me, lain me down, cared for me and loved me. But each time before had been imagination. Now there was only me and him and there was no mystery. His back arched high and powerful as he knelt before me, worshiping what he was doing, slowly, gently rising and falling on me as if in prayer. His hair was delicate in my hands, his cheeks soft and full as I felt them, as he rose and lowered himself around me and drank in all that he himself had once dreamed about.

    An age of time slipped by. The world beneath grew and changed but we stayed as one throughout. I lifted him from me, kissed him, tasted myself on his lips, lay him down and took his dark firmness into my mouth. Tasted him, understood the mystery of his life, and I knew him as I knelt before him and worshiped as he had done. I stroked the side of his slender length with my lips, circled my tongue around him, pushed back down on him and buried my face into the short, downy hair. Each time I rose and fell I would fall further, pulling his hips up to meet me, wanting more and more of him each time.

    And then we were apart, standing, looking at each other. I could still feel his heart beating against mine, but we were not touching. I could still feel him in my mouth, but we were not kissing. I could still taste all of his sleek, firmness but there was nothing in my mouth. We watched each other. His hands ran over his own chest, smooth and dark. They slipped to his groin, stroked his own legs, and held his own hardness. We stood still. Our eyes did the work. I looked into his and I could see his joy, I could feel what he felt. I knew what we were doing. We were laying together, each buried deep inside the other in some impossible way. He was mine. His slim, smooth hips were rising to draw me into him. He was feeding on me, sucking me into him, pulling at my back. And at the same time I was allowing him into me. Feeling him slide carefully in, not holding him too tight for fear of breaking him. And as I rode, he rode. Together in the same rhythm, in the same heartbeats, both of us giving what the other wanted and taking only what we needed.

    Feeling myself slide slowly into him; feeling him under me. Feeling him draw gently out of me; feeling him with me. Having him sit over me; push down to take all of me. Having him hold me; pulling me back towards him. Holding him as I drive myself in; owning him as I take him. Holding him as he grows harder and stronger inside of me; being his as I let him have his dreams. And then both of us swelling, tightening, driving deeper into each other, ramming, abandoned, clutching, grasping, desperate, being inside him, being him.

    And then a slow rising up from inside and a starburst jet of explosion rocks us both, fills him, fills me, combines us, mixes us, melts us as one. And keeps bursting within ourselves until we have nothing more to give each other, until there is nothing left to learn, until the myths have all been dispelled. Until there is nothing left to disbelieve as all is true and he is real.

    Just the two of us. He lying across my chest, his ear pressed to my heart listening for the rhythm of my life and steadying it, teaching it. My arm across his back, strong and protecting, guiding him to where he has brought me. Where he has brought us. To the end of the lonely road.

    And there to lie forever with the ancient rocks, the magic and the mystery of the past. To stay together like this until we too become part of history, part of the landscape. Another two stones lying undisturbed in myth until another lonely traveller passes by and moves us while searching for their own destiny.


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  • The Morning After

    I don’t remember exactly how the three of us ended up like this. The last thing I remember was being in the kitchen with Ted and the guy he works for, Matt, drinking warm punch and talking about Matt’s new girlfriend. She wasn’t at the party, Matt had arranged the bash before he met her and she couldn’t make it to his house that night. He was telling us all the details of what sex they’d had on their first date and how she couldn’t get enough of his cock, he couldn’t get enough of her licking it and stroking it and sitting on it and…

    And the next thing I know I’m waking up, the room is spinning around me and I’m lying next to someone. Sunlight is coming in through a window I don’t recognise, someone is snoring near me and my mouth feels like the bottom of a parrot’s cage.

    After a few moments I realise where I am; still at Matt’s house, but in someone’s bed. I figure it’s not mine so it must be his. I stare at the ceiling. No posters of pop stars or footballers like in my room. I look at the walls, a few photo’s in frames, a suit hanging on the wardrobe door, it’s the room of a thirty something man. Not the room of a nineteen year old student.

    I hear a grunt and look closer to me. As I turn my head I realise that it’s actually lying on someone’s chest. A hairy, firm chest. A man’s chest. Matt’s. I try to move quietly away, but my arm is trapped beneath him. I raise my head a little – I can hear some other breathing. I see Ted. His spiky bleached hair looks even more out of place than usual. He’s waking up too, his eyes are bleary, his face filmed with sweat. He has a hangover like mine. He blinks at me, works out where he is and somehow moves his face closer to mine.

    We are staring at each other across the naked chest of the guy who was just bragging about his girlfriend. I look down. Matt is naked. I can see his toned chest give way to his flat stomach, dark hair around his belly button, rising and falling as he breathes quietly, lying on his back. I look down further. I can see the really black hair above a large cock that’s lying against his thigh, soft. I can see his feet.

    I can see Ted’s feet too. My eyes move back up. I can, if I lift my head a bit more, see Ted’s legs. Thin, hairless, shining in the morning light. His flesh is white and this makes his pubes stand out, jet black, short, in straight lines they frame his cock. He is now lying on his back and his cock is hard. He’s woken up with a morning glory. Its head is purple, angry looking, swollen and glistening. I look up his chest, hairless, pink nipples circled with dark brown. His face, looking back at me, he’s smiling.

    I realise I am naked. I can feel the heat from the sleeping man’s legs pressing against mine. I know I am hard too, I need to pee, but my arm is trapped. Now Ted is looking at me.

    ‘What do we do?’ he whispers. ‘I’m trapped.’

    ‘Me too,’ I hiss back. ‘How did we get here?’

    ‘You don’t remember?’ He sounds incredulous.

    ‘No.’

    Our whispering is interrupted. Matt grunts, smacks his lips, lets out a sigh. Something moves beneath me and I realise that I am lying on his arm. It pushes me and his large hand rests on my shoulder. I see the same thing is happening on Ted’s side. We pull faces at each other. What now?

    And then Matt’s strong hand moves to my head and he holds my head in his palm. He is pushing me down, sliding me down his body. He is doing the same to Ted. Matt raises his back a little and my other arm is free. But the rest of me is now controlled by Matt’s forceful grip. To accommodate him I slip a little further down his chest, but he pushes my face into his nipples. They are hard. I look at Ted. He is smiling. He opens his mouth and his tongue, dark from the punch he drank last night, starts searching for the nipple on his side. I don’t believe it. I watch fascinated as Matt pushes my best mate’s head down, right over his nipple and Ted starts to suck on it.

    Matt’s hand is pushing me in the same direction. I don’t know what to do. I open my mouth and he guides my head onto its target. I feel the hot, hard mound of flesh in my dry mouth. I suck.

    I feel something pushing and I raise my left leg up as Matt’s heavy thigh pushes in, rubs its course hair against my straining cock and pins me to the bed. Somehow it feels good. Having an older, stronger body rubbing against my cock. It was hard before but suddenly now it feels like it will explode.

    I don’t have time to think about it. I am being pushed further down. I look at Ted, we are both being pushed lower. Whereas I just stare at my mate he never stops licking and kissing the muscled body that his lips are passing. Until our faces are only inches apart and there is nothing between us except dark pubic hair.

    Matt can push me no lower. As I slide down his legs slides up between mine and now his foot is resting against my cock. His toenails are on my balls, and he starts to move them.

    That feels good. I look at Ted, he smiles at me.

    ‘Kiss me like you did last night,’ he whispers to me like through some dream.

    I don’t understand. He slides towards me. He kisses me and looks downwards. I follow his gaze.

    Matt’s cock is now rock solid and waiting. Pointing straight up at us, his foreskin is pulled back, his single eye slippery and oozing. It’s huge in my vision. I see Ted’s hand on it, I see Ted slip just a little lower and then I follow.

    And the next thing I know my lips are around the edge of Matt’s cock, Ted is doing the same on the other side. We are kissing each other with this huge shaft of another guy’s cock between our lips. Ted is sliding up from the base to tongue around the head then sliding his mouth down to the base again. I do the same so our lips meet around the cock-head and we kiss with it between our mouths.

    The toes on my cock are starting to act like fingers somehow, I feel them pulling at my flesh, Matt’s ankle is rubbing against me. I feel like I’ll piss myself or come at any moment.

    And all the time me and my best mate are using our mouths to wank the straight guy in the bed. I can feel Matt’s hands around my face as he grabs me and Ted together. He’s using us to wank himself off, using us two lads to get his cock real hard and wet. And in return he’s now rubbing the sole of his foot against my burning nob. And I’m pushing back, thrusting my cock against it as I don’t care anymore. I need to come.

    Now my face is gripped tight, right against Ted’s, with Matt’s hot cock-head between our lips. My tongue is stabbing at it, trying to find Ted’s on the other side. Ted is doing the same. Matt is shoving his cock-head into our mouths, first mine, then Ted’s, then we’re either side of it again, fighting for it. My hand has gone to the older guy’s balls, I’m wrestling with Ted’s fingers as we both grope and play with the huge heavy sack. I’ve never felt anything so big and hot. I’ve never felt a cock between my lips and a foot wanking me. And I’ve never kissed my best mate before.

    And I’m doing all of these things when my own balls give in and I shoot my come against the sole of Matt’s foot. I gasp and as I open my mouth his cock lips in. A strange salty taste fills my mouth and I am swallowing something hot. The cock slips out and darts into Ted’s waiting mouth. I see the cock spasm and hear Ted choke. Ted is twitching, he’s coming too. My cock’s still spurting. I can feel it slipping against the now wet underside of Matt’s foot. Matt’s cock is between both our lips again as it blasts off one more round of come. This lands in his pubes and both me and Ted fight to clean it. I want to taste more, I want to be the one to lick it up and drink it.

    And then I’m pushed away. My spent cock starts to shrink as I roll onto my back, panting, my head thumping and I stare up at the ceiling again. When I have recovered I glance back across the bed. Matt has gone. I hear a shower running. Ted is lying on his back too, his own cock now limp between his legs. He rolls his head to look at me.

    We stare at each other. He plays with his cock. I watch. Until he reaches out his hand towards me. And I reach out mine towards him.


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  • The Lad from the sea

    Maybe it was because I was a complete stranger that he felt able to tell me his secret. At least I thought so at the time. I figured out later that he had started talking to me because I had a broad, hairy chest, a beard and was older than him. It was all part of his secret.

    He told me he was eighteen. Actually he said he was eighteen and four months so I didn’t argue. Then he said he had a secret and was bursting to tell someone. I told him that he was welcome to tell me his secret and that my name was…

    He stopped me dead. ‘No name,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t work if there’s a name.’

    ‘What doesn’t work?’ I asked.

    ‘Just listen, don’t interrupt, and when I’ve finished you decide what happens next.’

    His puppy-dog eyes were begging me already, hopeful that I would agree to his strange request.

    What would you do if a smooth, slim lad in lycra swim trunks came up to you and asked if he could tell you his secret?

    ‘Go ahead,’ I said and checked around me to make sure no other people on the beach were in ear shot. We were safe.

    He told me his secret.

    As he spoke he looked at my chest and one time I caught him licking his lips. Occasionally he smiled, paused and then indicated that he had more to say. I listened. And as I did so my own eyes wandered from his dark blonde head, his hair almost cropped on the sides but longer and bleached by the sun on top, down over his youthful face, tinted red by the warm day, and towards his flat, hairless chest. Smooth is always a turn on for me. Opposites attract. Hairy, older, top attracts smoother, younger, bottom.

    I started wondering about his bottom, I couldn’t see it, hadn’t seen it when he walked over to me. He’d arrived so out of the blue that I’d not even had time to check out the front of his trunks. I did that while he told me what he wanted. They were tight, white and revealing. They were also wet and clinging to him, I could make out the outline of a small cock and a pair of youthful balls. He must have come from the sea.

    By the time he finished talking to me I was having trouble keeping my seven inches hidden in my own swim shorts. I wanted him to notice the hard-on that had started but there were still other people on the beach and I didn’t want us to attract attention. If he was to get his way then what happened next had to be secret. That was his whole point. He was looking at my groin and waiting for me to react.

    But I could say nothing. He had made that quite clear. His closing statement had been: ‘that is my secret. Say nothing. If you turn away then I will move on and I’m sorry I troubled you, sir. But if you like what you heard then you will know what to do.’

    I had liked what I’d heard and I knew what I had to do. He had told me in detail what his secret was and all I had to do now was act it out for him.

    You see his secret was actually his fantasy. And his fantasy was what happened next:

    Without saying a word I slipped a couple of things into the pocket of my shorts, covered my pile of clothes with my towel where they would be safe for a while and stood up. I didn’t look at his face, I was not allowed to, but I could almost hear a sigh of relief from him as he watched me. By the time I was ready he was already making his way down to the water’s edge. I followed, my stare fixed on the tight buns and slim hips. My mind concentrated on what I was expected to do. I had no problem with it at all. I had to do was remember what he had asked and make sure I made his dream come true.

    I followed him into the sea and started swimming. The bay we had been in was only small and it was not long before we were around the headland and out of site of the other sun seekers. I’m a strong swimmer. I’ve always swum and used a gym, so the five minute journey was nothing for me. He was lean and fit too and by the time we reached the secluded place, neither of us seemed affected by the exercise. If anything it helped prime me for my task.

    I trod water a little way off while I watched him wade up onto the shore. An even smaller bay, no people, just a few feet of sand and a cave, just as he said there would be. He walked into the cave and was lost from sight. I waited the right length of time, my heart rate steadying until it was time for me to follow.

    I walked into the cool dimness of the cave and let my eyes adjust. The sand was cold under my bare feet and the sea water dripped from me. Everything was silent, not as cold as I’d thought it would be. I was entering a magic grotto where we would both find our wish come true.

    And there it was, lying on its back over a smooth round boulder. A picture of innocence waiting to be explored. Mine for the taking. The white trunks discarded, the naked body waiting to be used.

    The boy was pretending to be asleep, one arm draped over his face, the other above his head so the body stretched out showing the rib cage, pulling the puppy fat of his stomach taught. I stood before him watching, looking at the slightly parted lips, the stubble less chin, the perfect, hairless chest. Further down to the slim hips, smooth strong legs, also slightly parted. His cock lay flaccid to one side, the foreskin drawn back a little as it waited there, semi erect in anticipation. Two perfectly round balls rested beneath, and under them a barely perceptible covering of hair was matted together with salt water.

    I stood close, heard his breathing, knew he was pretending and breathed in the scent of the willing youth; the wanting youth. Yes, I would give him his fantasy.

    I stood between his legs and gently parted them further with my own. I placed a hand either side of the submissive body and lent forward, my lips only millimetres away from his. I could smell him more then, a hint of salt and sweat. I arched my back so that nothing touched his body, I did not want to disturb his semi-sleeping cock just yet, and I put my lips to the warm, springy flesh of his neck. I licked the salt from his skin as my mouth explored lower, tiny kisses across his neck, open to me, willing to be bitten like a vampire’s seduced victim. Lower I kissed, the hard skin of his chest, the strong, brown nipples erect yet pliable under my warm tongue. I inched down with my mouth and buried my nose into his belly button as my teeth nibbled gently below it. I crouched to better reach his thigh and the stubble of my chin scraped carefully across his legs as my face found its way further into the warmth between his legs. Still nothing touched his cock. I could sense it there, lengthening slightly as I moved below his ball sack and kissed his inner thigh. I moved to his other leg and drew his flesh in with my lips, my moustache tickling his skin as I worked my way under his balls until I could feel them light and soft against my forehead.

    And then I pushed my face in further, his legs either side of my head, his balls sliding down the bridge of my nose until my tongue connected with the downy, soft, almost invisible hair beneath his balls. I heard a slight moan as I connected with him there and another louder one as I gently took one delicate ball into my warm mouth. I tasted the salt of the sea and the boy sweat as I manipulated the sensitive orb with my tongue, then the other, always treating both with equal amounts of pleasure. I let them go and licked them both, my strong tongue playing with them, bouncing them as I worked back up and felt for his youthful cock.

    I clamped my lips around the base, holding it as I flicked the shaft within my mouth, working my way up the now stiff cock a little. He was not huge, but he was hard, and hairless and hot. My moth reached the tip and I could smell the salty expectancy of precum leaking from his tip. The foreskin pulled right back against the straining cock, revealing a shiny pink head. Very slowly, to tantalise and arouse him more I closed my mouth over the swollen head and played with it. I licked it, let him feel my teeth, let him know how vulnerable he was.

    And then gently I slipped it in, against the top of my mouth, to the top of my throat and then finally down until my nose was nestled into the slight, featherweight public hair. And there I sucked in, swallowing the youthful meat as far as it would go before releasing my throat muscles and drawing up, letting his young tool slip back until my lips caught around its head and my tongue played more with the underside. And then back again, more quickly and deeper, the cock grew longer with the added force and his balls tightened up against the hair on my chin. Then I slowly released him again until just the most sensitive tip was at the mercy of my teeth, where I waited before sucking him down again.

    His breathing was deeper, slower, in rhythm with each dive of his shaft into my throat until I feared he would lose himself and end his fantasy too soon. I knew it was time to move on.

    For the first time my large hands touched the delicate skin of his thighs as I stood back, turned him over and parted his legs a little further. His back was pitted with tiny indents from the rock, the perfectly smooth mounds of his boy butt pink in places where the rough rock had pressed. He rolled onto his front with only the slightest prompting from me. He knew what he wanted. And so did I, he had told me. I stood and watched him beneath me as I stripped my shorts. My tool was gorged now, swollen with anticipation and ready for some hard, deep work. It stuck out from my mound of bushy hair, drawing my low hanging balls up to it as far as they would go, but leaving them hanging free in the cool air of our secret cave. I rolled the rubber on in readiness as I dropped to my knees.

    Roughly, and without warning, I changed my approach. I was no longer the gentle, stroking partner I had been before. Now I was the stronger, older man in charge of the suppliant youth beneath me. He was prone, he was winding me up with the sight of his young, virgin ass and he was there to be had. Had hard and deep until he cried out for me to stop. Even then I wouldn’t, even when he’d had enough and could take no more man meat pounding into his boy ass he would get more. But first my tongue had more work to do.

    I dived straight in. Grabbing both soft mounds of his ass and drawing them apart with my big hands. The cool air hit his virgin pink ring and it contracted against the sensation. It did not have long to recover before my tongue was against it, pushing in, forcing it open, wetting it, lubing it up in readiness for the rigid tool that was now aching to get in there. I felt his body move as if in protest, I knew it wasn’t, but I’d almost forgotten the game now. I was running this. I sniffed in the scent of his cool, soft arse cheeks as I tongued his hole. I slid my chin up between his legs, letting the roughness of my beard scrape along his flesh, over his hole and up through the soft buns. My tongue attacked him again, followed by my chin, and again until all around his anus was red and raw from my feasting and my stubble. All the time he moaned and squirmed beneath me, pretending to try and get away. But I had him pinned down against the rock with my hands. I was stronger than him, bigger than him and I was going to get exactly what I wanted.

    My cock could wait no longer. I stood up and pulled the boy from the rock, backed up against the wall of the cave and pulled him back onto me. My shaft slipped up over the crack of his ass and I heard him gasp as he felt its length reach the small of his back. My balls hung down beneath his butt and he must have realised what he was going to get. Maybe he thought for a second that he’d bitten off more than he could chew but by then it was too late. My strong right arm pushed at the back of his neck and bent him forward. Without any more vanilla messing I pulled back my hips and centred the head of my shaft against his tightening, moist pink ring. I put one arm around his waist, the other around his small chest, and pulled him back upright.

    Before he knew what had happened, my cock had punched into his tight hole and my hairy balls were rubbing up against his own. He didn’t scream, but the sound he made suggested that he didn’t expect this. It was the sound he’d told me he’d make and it only made me grasp him tighter. He was impaled on me, forced back against me and me against the rock as I felt his weight push back, wanting me in deeper.

    I thrust forward, slapping my thighs against his little ass cheeks and shoved him forward. My cock slipped back until I felt his ring grasp at my head, not wanting to let me out. Then back in again with a harder thrust, knocking another moan from him. The rhythm grew. I grabbed his arms and wrapped them across his chest with my own, my face close to the side of his, my beard scratching at his smooth cheeks. I could smell his breath, taste his sweat. I held both his arms with one of my hands and let the other slide down to grab his cock. It fitted in my palm and I fisted it, squeezed it and held it as I pounded back into his hot young tunnel. Our balls swung against each other. Mine low and heavy, his small and hardening and before long I felt him getting close.

    I ground my hips, shoved in, held him, squeezed his cock, rubbed my balls against him, covered his back with the hair of my stomach and then pulled back out again. I gave him no time to recover as I shoved in again this time even harder. The force lifted his feet from the sandy floor a second as his whole body was impaled on my thick, solid shaft. His head strained around to try and kiss me but he was helpless, lost in his fantasy, his gasps erratic as he tried to give sounds of pleasure, confused by moans of helplessness.

    The sound of our flesh slapping, thigh on ass cheek, filled the cave and drowned out the sound of the sea. I wrapped him tighter in my arms, gripped his cock with the vice of my fist and felt him start to shudder. I knew he was cuming. I entwined my legs around his. He was totally caught, totally helpless. He could do nothing but let my meat pound his insides, bringing him to orgasm. I let go his cock and felt him try and reach it with his hand, but I had them held fast. He was going to come without anything touching his cock. I was going to make this boy come just by fucking his precocious little lad-butt and he was going to get what he wanted.

    I was ready, my balls had tightened, filled. My cock had thickened as it slid out to the tip and then pounded back into the hot depths of the groaning, helpless lad before me. His head thrashed and then shot ridged back against my chest as I thumped swollen and harder into him. His moaning turned to helpless whimpering as if he didn’t want this to happen. But by then it was too late. He was coming.

    His whole body trembled in my grip and my hold on him tightened, forcing his boy juice out of him with the last, deepest thrust of my tool. I heard the splatter of his jism against the rock as my balls erupted and my cock spewed out and into him. I jerked with each eruption and heard his ecstasy as he felt the force of my coming fill the rubber that filled his arse.

    I let go his arms and grabbed his hips. I slammed him back into me as he shot his last spit of cum in front of himself. He grabbed for his cock, desperate to drain more as I spurted one more thrust inside him.

    And I held him there as he recovered, still with my gorged shaft buried deep within him, still with our empty balls sliding together with sweat and salt water. My wide hairy chest covered his back protectively and my muscled arms wrapped the young body safely and stroked the hairless chest as his heart slowed down and his breath was recovered.

    I let my hand stray to his already softening cock, and I let the warm piece of flesh rest in my palm. The last dribble of boy juice leaked onto my fingers and I lifted them to his mouth. He took my fingers in gently and sucked on them before resting his head back on my shoulder and letting out one last, fulfilled sigh.

    According to his wishes, nothing was said. I let him break away from me, my cock slipping out of the small ass and hanging, the rubber filled so much it was nearly pulled off with the weight. He put on his shorts and walked, a little shakily I thought, from the cave and back into the sea.

    By the time I made it back to my place on the beach there was no sign of him. But something told me that I’d come across him again before long. I was in this place for two more weeks. It was a small island and there weren’t many places the lad could hide. And next time… next time we’d play out my fantasy.


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  • The Greek Landlord

    The place I had rented for two weeks was private in all respects. It was high up towards the top of an ancient village, surrounded by empty land and ruins and concealed by a walled courtyard. Just right for nude sunbathing and wandering around naked. I was taking a year out from college to explore some of the world and had gotten as far as this remote Greek island before deciding to stop for longer than just one night. As soon as I’d got off the ferry I was approached by an army of locals waving signs advertising rooms to rent and it was easy to find one I wanted. I headed straight for the only girl among the touts. Dark haired, slim and with welcoming eyes she asked me quietly if I needed somewhere to stay. She told me it was high up, away from the tourists and that it was cheap. The remoteness sounded inviting to me and I imagined her visiting to make the beds, maybe staying after to unmake them with me too, if you see what I mean.

    Then she introduced me to her father and she passed me over to him as if I was a bag of shopping. Before I had a chance to flirt or even ask her name, she was back into the crowd of new arrivals touting for business again. The father grunted something at me in Greek and indicated a truck. As I started to climb up into the back with my rucksack he took my luggage from me and lifted it in as if it weighed nothing. I was mainly full of college books I had yet to read and they weighed a ton. Before he could give me the same treatment I scrambled in, afraid that if he lifted me in his grip I’d be crushed. He was at least six foot, about forty five years old I’d say judging from the flecks of grey in his moustache, but his muscles practically ripped his shirt as he manoeuvred my rucksack into the flat bed.

    I smiled as best I could, already worrying about where he was going to take me, and what he might do. I’m pretty tough, I work out and play football, but there was no way I could defend myself against the father should he turn nasty.

    But I needn’t have worried. He drove me up through an enchanting village, honking his horn at the locals and waving from the cab. He seemed pleasant enough, and when we reached the house he was as charming as you could wish for. He showed me around, agreed the very low price his daughter had promised, and told me that he could always be found in the village if I needed anything.

    Two days later I ran out of water. I had got to know my way around by then and had no trouble tracking him down in the village. I explained that the tap had suddenly run dry and asked what I could do about it. He told me, in broken English, that the house occasionally had this problem but it required him to come and fix it. He would come up in the afternoon, if I could manage until then. We made an arrangement that I would leave the front door open and he could let himself in. He’d only need about ten minutes to do something with the water pump outside and then he’d be off, shutting the doors behind him so I’d know he had been.

    That sorted I went back to the house to collect my things for the beach. It was September, the weather was still hot and, coming from the cold climbs of North Yorkshire, I was not used to such heat. It drained my body, emptied me of moisture and, since being in Greece, had led me to understand why the locals took siestas in the hottest part of the day. By the time I’d returned to the house and packed my beach bag it was just after noon and my body was weary. The beach was a mile away and by foot, at that time of day, was a hard slog to get to and from.

    I decided that I would go later. Right then I needed a sleep. I could wake up feeling refreshed later in the afternoon and the heat would have died a little. I threw my soaked tee shirt onto the chair and flopped onto the bed. Remembering that the landlord might call I decided to keep my shorts on. He shouldn’t need to come into the bedroom but just in case…

    Before long, drowsiness came over me and I felt myself drifting. Far away I could just make out the sound of birds chattering, a goat bleating somewhere on the mountain above and the occasional vehicle passing in the valley far below. Through approaching sleep my mind flashed up images of the daughter wading out of the cool sea, her hair falling long across her shoulders, water dripping from her breasts and running in little streams down her soft, naked flesh. My cock was pressing against the bed beneath me but it would have to wait until I woke up. Maybe I’d have more dreams of her as I slept and would wake with new images I could recall when I beat myself off later.

    I don’t know what I dreamt about but whatever it was, it was interrupted by a sound from the next room. I didn’t jump up in panic, I knew it would only be the dad come to fix the water and allowed myself to remain in that half sleep where you know what is going on around you but couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. Almost paralysed in a numb, contented way. And then I drifted back into afternoon dreams.

    I heard breathing in the room; someone was standing behind me, over me and watching me. I heard a quiet cough and ignored it. It was o.k. Only the landlord letting me know he’d finished and was leaving. I heard the rustle of material and a gentle clatter of a belt buckle. The dull thud of boots being kicked off and discarded. More breathing and then the sound of clothing being dropped to the floor.

    The mattress beneath me moved as if someone was putting weight on it and I dipped slightly to one side, and then the other. Someone was kneeling at the foot of the bed. But dreams are meant to be like this I thought; real and yet safe. New experiences happen in dreams and, because they’re not real it doesn’t matter. I drifted further into the comfort of sleep feeling only a presence behind me and security that I was in safe hands.

    Hands that touched the soles of my feet and slid them to one side, parting my legs gently, and allowing cool air to explore around the tops of my legs where my football shorts hung soft and silky around my thighs. Cooling air that dried the sweat gathering behind my knees and chilled my flesh. I felt my ankles get taken in large rough skinned, wide hands that gripped just tightly enough to pin my legs to the bed. And the hands started to slide upwards, gently massaging my muscles, sending me further into nowhere land and sending shivers of pleasure through my sleeping body. They reached the back of my knees and a strong finger pressed into the flesh there. I’d never felt a sensation like that before, either asleep or awake and it felt good. A stronger, tougher finger joined it and made small circles, all the time pressing and massaging.

    And then I felt the hands slide further up until they gripped my upper legs, just below my shorts. The tips of the rough fingers slid in under the material and played on me, one after the other in a slow rhythm, pressing one at a time in sequence. The hands started kneading me there; a little more pressure was applied as they moved higher up under the material until they pressed on the bottom of my cheeks, sliding to the sides as if to feel everything that was there. The hair on the back of my legs was standing up now, something was telling me that this dream was going in the wrong direction and that I should wake up. But another part of me was being lulled, hypnotised by the gentle stroking of rough hands, sending me further into a place I’d never been before and I was enjoying it.

    My shorts were being taken down. My cock, still rock hard, was pressing its circumcised head against the waste band, caught there as the shorts were dragged away. My arse lifted of its own accord, freeing my cock and allowing the shorts to be removed completely. I felt the hands start at my ankles again, slowly sliding up the back of my legs until they held one cheek apiece. There they paused, holding my arse in a strong, not to be resisted, grip.

    Something made me part my legs further. I don’t know if I did that or if the unseen dream-force moved them but they spread. And I knew that the hands were spreading the crack of my arse and opening it to the afternoon air and allowing the unseen visitor to get a full view of my flesh, my light blonde hair covering the white, smooth skin that gave way to a darker recess where my tight hole was now being watched.

    And then these big hands were on my sides, holding me by the hips as two powerful thumbs rolled and massaged my arse cheeks, pulling me open and then pushing me closed as I felt myself being lifted from the bed. This inside of my legs brushed against something else, something new. I felt coarse hairs scrape at my skin as I was pulled back and up, felt hard muscles against my inner thigh while all the time the vice like grip that controlled me allowed no resistance, and yet the grip was gentle and careful.

    I realised something. Through my sleep I knew what was going on and I knew that I should wake up. But I also knew that it was too late. I stood no chance of escape even if I was awake. Asleep I could imagine that this was still a dream and that this was not happening.

    But when I felt breath on my arse cheeks I knew it was happening. I kept my eyes closed and I kept still. Allowing him, as it was definitely a him, to do whatever he was going to do. It didn’t matter; I was asleep so this was not happening.

    The breath suddenly became warm and moist and I felt the rough hair of a moustache above a pair of soft lips. I was being kissed, first on one side and then the other. The hands had drawn me up to a face, my balls hung free in the air and my cock stuck out into the empty space beneath me. And I felt the kisses turn to licking, a smooth, hot tongue was drooling across the light furriness of my backside, pausing now and then to kiss. And to take a gentle bite. Teeth in a powerful jaw dug into me just enough to tell me that resistance would lead to pain; compliance would result in something more rewarding. I could not resist. I knew who this was and I had seen his strength. I realised that asleep or awake I belonged to the dad now, and that was that.

    My thoughts were interrupted. The mouth and the moustache had moved, centred in on my crack, right at the top. And they were now moving downwards. My heart raced, I knew where he was going. My crack was pushed wide by the rough stubbled chin and the heat from its scratching was intensified by the heat from the mouth that licked and bit as it pushed harder against me. Until I felt something press against my hole. It clamped up tight, nothing had touched it before and its reaction was instinctive. I felt something wet and hard jab at it, a tongue, but still it resisted.

    Until the tongue stopped jabbing and its action became one slow, gentle, wet push. In a circular motion it nudged cautiously against the tight puckered flesh of my hole, teasing it, tempting it to give in. My heart raced on, knowing that I wanted to give in but not knowing how to make my body obey. And then I stopped worrying. I realised that my body would obey, it had no choice but to give in to the tough, experienced action of the older body that controlled it. And once I realised that I felt my sphincter relax and his tongue slid into me.

    I couldn’t help but moan as I felt the heat and force of that tongue as it tickled my insides. Parts of me that had never been touched before reacted to his probing and sent signals to my brain. I pushed back, my body pushed back, of its own accord, wanting now to see what it felt like to have him reach further up into me. His stubble rubbed against me, between my arse and my balls and my flesh there burned red hot as it scraped. Above his hot mouth his moustache pricked at me and his nose dug into the top of my crack. And all the time his hands held my hips and his fingers plied at my inexperienced flesh.

    I don’t know how long he kept his tongue in me, how long he feasted on my innocent arse with his mouth, but I knew that I didn’t want him to stop. Not until my cock, now painful, had spat and emptied my balls. But his mouth released me and my hole contracted as his tongue slipped out. My insides felt wet, warm and for the first time I was aware of what lay within me. But the grip on my hips did not lessen. Instead it pulled me higher, lifting my arse up and towards the furriness of the man who knelt behind me.

    Up until I pressed against his hairy flesh and felt the downy hair of my arse tangle with the coarse fleece of the older man’s strong thighs. And then something was lying against my crack. Something solid, thick and awesome rested there. And something soft and large swung against my balls. I felt his balls touch mine, sending a sliver of electricity up and into my cock head. They felt so huge against me and I felt so inadequate, immature, inexperience. I did not know what to do but I knew that he did, and that was o.k. He would take care of me.

    Our balls rubbed together, his firming up while mine hung low and heavier with the juice that was gathering there. His hips circled, pressed and the solid shaft of meat that lay heavy against my arse slipped up and down through my crack. Each time it slipped a little lower and each time his thumbs pulled back on my cheeks, opening them a fraction further. Until I could feel his hard shaft press against my moist hole, teasing it as it slid over it, dragging his big balls with it until they brushed over my sphincter and his cock head dribbled dampness on the small of my back. And then down again until his balls rubbed against mine and the sticky, hot head of his cock touched my hole for the first time.

    His thumbs parted my cheeks, spreading them wider then ever before, and his hands gripped my hips with more force. His cock head pressed into my tight hole and I willed it to open up and allow this man inside. It resisted, he pressed harder, I felt his wet cock head open my hole a fraction. His cock felt like a steel bar as it pushed against my resistance. I tried to relax. He tried to enter. My arse resisted. But it lost the battle.

    With a gut wrenching, searing hot scream my sphincter was forced open and the thick mass of flesh pushed its way in. My hole tried to tighten but only made itself tighter for him. Now his head was in, there was no stopping him. My resistance spurned him on and he entered me with one slow, endless push that drove the wind from my lungs and the pain from my arse.

    I felt his balls bang up against mine and felt him rest there. My heart raced on my body adjusted to the pain. He took a pause; my breathing calmed and my muscles relaxed. All the way up inside of me I could feel the thick, pulsating shaft of the man’s cock and I gripped it, tightened my sphincter around it and then let it relax. Doing this gave me back some control and my body quickly learned that this was o.k. I didn’t need to resist anymore. He was in me and I was his.

    He started to draw it out of me, I felt his swollen head drag back along my insides, sliding along the lining until the ridge of the head pulled back against the inside of my sphincter. But there was no release, he did not leave. Instead he drove back down on me again, pushing himself back to the hilt and ramming against something inside of me that shot stabs of pleasure to my cock and made it jerk. And then he was pulling back again, all the time his strong hands held me around the waist and his powerful thumbs pummelled my soft cheeks. He thrust back in and his balls slapped up against mine with such force that I felt them bounce painfully. And the force of his thrust lifted up my hips, pressed my head deeper into the mattress.

    And then his hands moved. He had me pinned to the bed, my arse up in the air and my cock hanging free beneath. He grabbed my chest with both hands, gripping me in a bear hug from behind and, with a low growl, pulled me up and back into his lap.

    I could not control the noise I made then as I felt myself fall back, impaled on his spear of a cock as he sat me on him. It felt like his shaft would reach into my chest as I felt my arse spread wider and his cock buried itself deeper than it had so far. His arms wrapped around my chest and for the first time I opened my eyes. I saw his hairy forearms, thick with muscles, strong and dark. The hands that had held me were huge, fingers long and the skin rough. But they were protecting me. He rested me there, pressed me against his broad, hairy chest and kissed the back of my neck. I could feel his heart pound through his ribcage and knock against me, could feel his furry chest brush against the smoothness of my back and I felt safe.

    Safe enough to lift myself up until his cock was once again only just inside of me. And then I slid down on it, controlling the speed, letting myself get fucked at my own pace. Felt him enter all the way until my balls, tiny in comparison, were pushing down on his. And then I wriggled a little, with him buried inside me, squeezed my sphincter, learning how to give him pleasure before I lifted again, and then sat slowly down on that arse splitting tool and swallowing all of him inside me.

    He let me do this a few more times before he remembered he was in charge. He bent me back on the bed, on all fours and pulled himself right out of me without warning. My hole snapped shut and I gasped. Before I had a chance to realise what he was doing he had spun me around, dragged my legs over his and lifted me up. My cock rubbed against the hair on his chest and then his stomach as he held me beneath the arms, lowered me down until his cock head was touching my hole again. And then, as if he was simply putting me down, he slid me over his shaft. He continued to hold me under my arms as if I was a dummy and used all of my body to wank himself with. Lifting me up without effort and then dropping me sharply onto his cock. Each drop down sent a spurt of pleasure up inside me, made me grunt, made my balls slap against the thick bush of fur that matted at the base of his shaft. I had to hold onto him, my arms fell around his neck and I clawed at his iron-like shoulders. His hands slipped up and around my back so that we were hugging, and still he gripped me, slid his hands down to my hips again and lifted me from there.

    Lifted me up the full length of his shaft until his head was almost out of me. Then pushed me down again so that my insides were filled with his thick, swollen man cock, his huge head pushing against something inside of me that sent new sensations to my cock. My balls tightened further now, almost vanished inside of me as my cock started to itch deep down below. He lifted me, slammed me onto him, lifted, slammed, impaled me, faster and harder each time. I clung onto his back and smelled the sweat that now poured from him, felt his damp hairy chest slither against mine, felt his vice like grip on my waist as he pounded me. My knees gripped tighter around his solid body as I was slammed down onto him in a quickening rhythm.

    He grew even fatter inside of me, his cock threatened to rip my insides and he started to grunt. His face pressed into my shoulder, his nails digging into my sides. My cock rubbed against his bushy stomach, harder, rougher, getting sore, getting close. He lifted, pounded, and used my slight young body to wank his thick, dark cock. I clawed at his fur; he dug into my smooth skin as he slammed me down.

    And then he just held me there, pushed my hips down onto his lap, kept me there as my balls gave up and started to release the juice that they had been building up. His face pushed mine off his shoulder; he looked me in the eyes. His mouth clamped down against mine and he bit on my lips. His tongue forced its way into me as my cum forced its way out of me. I felt it slip through my cock and spurt out into the dark hairs on his stomach. I felt it jerk against his older flesh and splatter him. And, at the same time I felt his cock swell inside of me, swell and then jerk. He grunted into my mouth, pressed me into him, grabbed my arse with both of his hands and pulled my arse cheeks so wide I could feel the skin stretch. His tongue thrashed around in my mouth and his cock exploded deep in my gut. A hot wave of cum hit me deep inside, I felt it sear against my flesh in there, it almost winded me. And then another, stretching my guts as it fought for space inside my tightly packed hole. I spurted onto his furry chest again, and he shot another load up my smooth insides. His hips convulsed, thrust up to me as another spurt splattered out and into me, and my balls spat out over him once more. I cried out, tears starting to drip from my screwed up eyes, I heard him growl, felt him shake as he pressed me down around he soaked cock that was blasting within. My grip on him tightened, I hugged him, felt the strength in his back as he jerked again and again.

    My insides burned with the heat form his juice and from the rough pounding he had given me. My cock still ached but it was empty now. It pressed against his wet, hairy stomach, spent and useless as his jerking subsided. His kisses became more gentle, his grunting calmed and our bodies started to relax.

    He held me. I kept my eyes closed. He lifted me gently from him and I could feel his juice seeping from my battered hole. He sat me down, pushed me gently back and stretched out my legs. I felt my cock fall soft and wet against my stomach, felt my balls, now emptied, slip back down to hang beneath. He took my ankles, turned me and returned me to my front.

    He ran a solid, rough palm across my arse cheeks, gripped one and shook it. Slapped it gently. And then I felt the tickle of his moustache as he kissed me there.

    And then he was gone. I felt a weight lift from the bed and heard a quick rustle of clothing, the clatter of a belt buckle and the soft shutting of the bedroom door.

    I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep. My arsehole burned and dribbled, my insides were wet, the flesh around my hips was sore and roughened and my cock head throbbed painfully. And the last sensation I remember before I drifted back to sleep was the brush of his moustache against my smooth cheek.


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