Author: admin

  • Married Hole

    Hey fellas, Sorry about the delays. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you it’s been a full on time lately.

    This is a fantasy. Some of these behaviors are dangerous. Take care of yourself and those you love, but more importantly, enjoy!


    My step falters as his eyes roam across me with a smirk appearing on his (admittedly handsome) bearded face.

    I slow down slightly but my legs keep going until a few seconds later I look over my shoulder to see he’s still watching me.

    I pause.

    Pulling my phone out of my pocket I make it look like I’m reading messages, and out of the corner of my eye I check him out.

    Taller than me. Broad shouldered and dark skinned with a tight beard that’s more silver than black. He fills out his tailored grey suit mouth-wateringly well and his smirk grows into a grin as he watches me watching him.

    I should walk away. I’m only a couple of blocks away from home. Todd won’t be home for a few hours since he’s working evenings at the moment but I can get out of my work clothes, chill, start getting dinner ready.

    Maybe (probably) break out the toys and work some of this frustration out of my system.

    He nods his head at me and turns. A few steps behind him was a pathway leading from the busy street to the park that straddles a couple of inner-city suburbs. A park with something of a reputation, where men have gone for decade to blow off some steam discreetly.

    Fuck.

    I follow him to the side-entrance with my heart beating wildly in my chest as the tree-covered pathway envelops me.

    It’s been a crazy week at work. It’s almost the end of the month so we’re being chased about targets that I don’t know if anybody’s going to hit, at least not without a miracle. I was already feeling all tangled up and ready to explode. I need to blow off some steam…

    As this man I haven’t even spoken to leads me deeper into the park and the sound of the city drops away my prick begins to stir.

    He doesn’t even look back at me as he turns off onto another path and I wonder if I was imagining things for a moment. Maybe his look didn’t mean anything and I’m just being creepy, following a stranger who happened to smile near me.

    I hesitate at the bottom of stairs which lead higher up into the trees but I know I’m not doing anything other than following him deeper.

    The path at the top leads to the right and he’s standing just to the left, leaning against a tree before a small gap, waiting for me.

    He nods again and my feet carry me forwards.

    A broad smile breaks out on his face as I come within touching distance and before I know it he’s moving forward to capture my lips with his own.

    I’ve been so fucking good for months. I’ve been loyal to my husband, ignoring my younger workmate Ben as he became increasingly desperate and frustratingly obvious, cornering me at lunch to beg me to go with him to the cruise club or even just the toilet stall to take his load.

    I have to admit…I thought about it. A few times, but no. I couldn’t do that.

    It’s been so fucking long.

    Now his tongue is pushing into my mouth making my knees tremble, his hand moving down to my ass and his crotch grinding into me as I grab onto his arms for support.

    I’m short of breath when we break away and my cock aches, trapped in my briefs.

    He turns and leads me beyond the gap in the trees. The ground has been worn away by years of men like us hunting for a brief exploration of other men like us.

    We get far enough away that nobody is going to see us from the path and he turns around, his hands sliding his fly down to fish out a fat tube of hardening flesh.

    He has at least 8 cut inches hanging heavy in his grip and I drop to my knees to take hold of it with reverence. As I bring my face closer, squeezing the length of him and seeing a bead of clear fluid growing at the tip of his dark purple head as it swells to full size, he reaches down and slides his thick fingers through my ginger curls.

    He guides me forward and I let my lips fall apart. Soon he’s filling my mouth, his taste exploding across my tongue.

    I can’t help but groan and it’s interrupted as he nudge against my throat. I start to gag.

    Pulling back until only the head of his cock is between my lips, I sweep my tongue around to get more of his taste in me, looking up to see him watching me with an intensity that makes me instantly throb.

    I plunge forward once more and force more of him to pop into my throat and I don’t stop until my nose is buried in his pubes. I swallow, massaging his length with my throat, then pull back and breathe in deep.

    He smells so fucking good.

    Birds sing above us as I get to work. Back and forth, in and out, his wet cock disappearing into my mouth and a slurping sound meeting his moans. I don’t know how long I’m like that, mindlessly sucking him, ignoring the slight ache in my throat.

    I haven’t tasted cock in months and I’m fucking starving.

    “He’s fucking good,” the man says, his rough English accent shocking me. “You should try him out.”

    Just like that he steps back and his cock abandons my mouth loudly, my own spit running down my chin. It’s beautiful. Thick and bobbing with his heartbeat, the dark skin shiny with spit, veins pulsing across the length of him.

    My breathing starts to even out and whoever he was speaking to steps in and takes his place, his cock already hard and waiting for me.

    I glance up. This guy’s not bad looking but not great looking. A bit younger than me, he’s stocky with a patchy beard growing in and a t-shirt dark with sweat. My eyes lock back onto his cock.

    It’s about 7 inches and uncut, shaped like an arrow with a pointy red head peeking out from the foreskin and it rapidly thickens towards the base. I lunge forward, his taste is sweeter and sharper than the other man and he’s leaking like a faucet. I groan as my nose hits his pubes.

    “Oh my god,” he breathes as I work his cock. “You were right. This slut’s hungry!”

    “I wonder what else he likes,” the English daddy says behind me. “If he wants to get filled up.”

    I don’t say anything as these men speak about me like I’m an object. I just suck the younger guy’s dick as he takes hold of my head and thrusts forward, fucking my face.

    The older guy reaches around me, undoing the buttons of my shirt. I don’t fight him as he peels it off me and throws it off to the side. His hands fumble at my belt for a moment before it opens for him then he slides my pants and underwear down in one fluid motion, my cock bouncing free into the open air.

    The younger guy keeps pounding at my face, relentlessly using my throat. I try to keep my mouth relaxed for him to use as I sweep my tongue across his cock, rewarded with the flowing taste of precum.

    The man behind me spits into his hand. His cock nudges against my asshole and I tense up, bracing myself before I breathe out through my nose and try to relax.

    I should stop them. I can still pull my clothes on, say it went further than I expected, that it’s a mistake and I need to go.

    I need to stop them.

    I moan around the younger guy’s dick as the English guy begins to into me. He growls behind me as the first few inches sink into me, this stranger’s cock opening me up.

    The younger guy pulls out and steps back, his chest heaving as he looks down at me, his face a mix of lust and contempt as the older one fucking me pumps his cock back and forth, inch by inch, pushing until he’s all the way inside of me.

    Finally.

    “Fuck,” the young guy pants with his cock bouncing and twitching, wet and angry-looking and just out of reach. “I’m so close.”

    The man fucking me picks up his pace, his balls slapping against me, the sound filling the trees around us.

    “Give-” I whine, my voice shaking as the stranger fucks me. “Give it to me. Give me your cum.” Looking up at him I stick my tongue out, waiting for him to paint it. “Please.”

    The younger guy takes hold of his cock and looks down at me. His hand glides easily across his skin, still lubed with my spit, and he jerks himself off hard and fast while I’m fucked in the dirt by a stranger off the street.

    “Here it comes, slut.” He moves forward again and I close my eyes in anticipation. “Fucking look at-ngh,” It splashes against my skin, cum landing on my cheek and forehead, on my eyelid, on my tongue. He tastes sharp. Harsh. “Look at you there. Filthy.”

    It takes forever for him to finish and I gulp down every drop that hits my mouth. The man fucking me becomes frenzied, harder, thrusting wildly.

    He’s getting close.

    As the English daddy’s fingers dig into my hips, his cock pounding into me, the young guy scoops up the cums from my eye and feeds it to me, collecting it from my face.

    I hold my mouth open expectantly, and as the man fucking me begins to pant, his breath ragged, short burst of moans escaping him as his thrusts become erratic, the young guy finally feeds me the rest of his cum.

    He makes me lick his fingers clean as the man fucking me roars, burying himself as deep as he can, and his cock throbs inside of me as he floods my guts with his load.

    I look up at the younger guy. He’s watching us, his eyes fixed on the older guy as he comes down from his high then begins to withdraw from me.

    It’s like he snaps out of a spell when he sees the other man zipping himself up, then he does the same and they both disappear.

    I’m left there on all fours in the dirt, my hole twitching as it leaks cum from a stranger who’s vanished beyond the trees.

    My senses catch up to me and my skin begins to cool.

    I clamber up on unsteady feet and pull my clothes on to head home.

    I shouldn’t have done that. I should have left.

    An hour later and I’m sitting on my bed naked, smelling like soap and staring at my phone, three words sitting there, written but not sent, taunting me.

    I need it.

    I hit send.

    ————————————

    A couple of days later and I’m standing there with uneven breathing, looking down the quiet street, knowing it’s irrational to think that the couple walking their dog know why I’m here.

    My palms are sweaty. My shirt clings to me.

    He’s taking forever.

    The door opens and the smell of weed hits me. Grant looks at me with red-tinged eyes and a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. He’s wearing a sleeveless red shirt with a small sports logo over his heart that clings to his wiry frame, his well-toned arms catching my eye before I can’t help but look down to see a heavy-looking bulge in his soft grey shorts.

    He’s going commando and my mouth waters at the sight of it swinging as he moves.

    “Jakey,” he says with a voice as smooth as butter, stretching the last syllable out. “Glad you messaged.” He steps to the side and I step inside, the smell of pot growing stronger and the smell of sweat mixing in with it. My heart accelerates as he reaches across me to close the door. My cock begins to stiffen as his warm breath moves across me.

    I hear laughter and music down the hallway and I’m curious if it’s somebody I know. I hope it’s not Ben.

    About a month ago I told him Ben needed to back the fuck off, that I’d made a promise to myself not to cheat again. That I’d gone too far already, even fucking with a condom was breaking my vows and everything I’d done since then was unacceptable to me.

    Grant surprised me. With a hug he said it’s okay, he understood where I was coming from and he respected my choices. He said he’d talk to Ben, he’d noticed he was going too far at work and it was only a matter of time before somebody else noticed and snitched to his wife.

    But he also told me that when I change my mind I just need tell him and he’ll make sure I get what I need.

    I didn’t ask for details but I’d hoped…really, truly, deep down hoped that he was finally going to give me that dick of his. I guess not if he’s got friends here.

    “Get those clothes off.” Grant leans against the wall, arms crossed, and I scramble to obey.

    My t-shirt is thrown off and I slide my gym shorts down, then I hook my thumbs into my underwear and pause for his reaction. My workmate snickers to himself.

    “Stop there.” He eyes me up and down as I stand up straight for him. “That’s hot, man.”

    My inflating prick is already beginning to stretch the sheer blue fabric of my thong’s pouch. It’s purely ornamental, the fabric is so thing you can see every ridge and vein. When it’s wet it’s basically transparent.

    He turns to walk and I follow, leaving my clothes abandoned next to the front door.

    The sound of voices grows and I become a bit concerned. It sounds like there are definitely a few guys there, and they sound excitable.

    Six. There’s six men in the living room or seven including Grant. They’re crammed onto the sofa and on chairs, one on a bean bag next to the coffee table, most of them turning to look as I walk in and freeze in place.

    A couple of the guys are glued to the TV with controllers in hand, super-smashing against one another. The rest don’t seem that fazed by my appearance…they must be used to it.

    Grant squeezes in between a couple of the guys on the couch so there are four full-sized men in a three-seater and he points at the ground between his legs.

    “Take a seat. You can suck the winner.” I shuffle forward trying not to interrupt the line of sight for the players and drop to my knees and face the screen. I almost jump when Grant pats my head, stroking my hair and making my cock reach its full size in the flimsy fabric.

    “Smoke?” He asks with a heavy breath, the smell of weed wafting across me from behind, and I shake my head no.

    “Doesn’t agree with me,” I mumble. “Sorry.” He ruffles my hair in response.

    “It’s cool, man. Beer?” I nod in response and he barks at somebody named Mitch to grab one.

    I happily accept it and knock back a mouthful, then another, and on screen one of the players gets knocked off the edge of the screen one too many times.

    “Yes!” The guy next to Grant shouts out, jumping in his seat as I turn to look at him. He looks down at me and grins broadly, already opening his fly as he throws the controller at the guy next to him. “Come on then.”

    I look back to Grant and he nods so I turn and crawl the short distance to the winner.

    His cock rises out of his fly and my mouth starts to water.

    “Hungry?” He shakes his hard rod in the air and I just nod emphatically. Looks like he’s about seven thick inches, cut and already leaking. “Go on then.”

    A growling moan escapes my throat as I lunge forward and envelop as much of him as I can take, almost reaching his zip on my first thrust down, pulling up just a notch then pushing back until I feel the cold jagged metal of his fly against my lips.

    “Fuuuuuuck,” he breathes out and let’s his head fall back as his body relaxes into the sofa. “Fuck yeah, bro. You were hungry.” Soon my slurping competes with the sound of digital fighters as the chatter dies away and I pump my lips up and down his meat rapidly, lapping at the taste of him with my tongue, slobbering on his cock, wet patches starting to appear in the denim either side of his fly.

    Grant’s hand lands on the top of my head. I glance up at him from the corner of my eye to see him leering down at me, guiding my head up and down on his friend, faster and faster as his moans build.

    I push my tongue against the underside of his cock and try to keep my lips tight, otherwise now I’m just a hole that Grant is using to get his friend off, and I’m stretching the fabric of my thong. I’m sure there’s a wet patch there.

    “Ohhhhh,” he groans, “I’m getting…”

    I yelp as Grant yanks me back, fingers full of my hair, a loud pop as the cock is torn from my lips. Slobber runs down my chin and lands on my chest and the floor as I heavily pant.

    “No cum for him yet.” Grant’s face is serious. Intense. His friend looks lost and vague for a moment, then annoyed, before he rolls his eyes and settles back, his wet cock pulsing in the open air.

    He was so close. I almost had him.

    “We have a new winner.” One of the men stands up from the chair to the side, proudly shoving his pants and underwear down his thighs in one swift excited motion, his cock bouncing up to slap against his stomach.

    He grins, taking hold of a beautifully shaped 6.5” piece of meat to shake it as he waits for me.

    I clamber over to him on all fours, over the outstretched legs of the men on the couch, and settle back on my haunches to look up at him. This one’s probably in his 30s, an average sort of guy all around, but right now his cock is in my face and he’s the hottest thing ever.

    His grin grows wicked and he closes the distance between us to slap his cock against the side of my face with a wet sound as he leaves precum on me.

    “Mitch, get me off.” Grant orders the guy who grabbed a beer that I promptly forgot once I got a sniff of cock, and I’d turn around to see him worship that monster if it weren’t for the latest winner grabbing me by the head and shoving his cock into my mouth.

    He wastes no time in fucking my face, thrusting hard and fast as I scramble to catch up and keep my teeth away but my lips tight.

    “No cumming in his mouth yet,” Grant growls from behind me before he moans at whatever Mitch is doing to him. “First loads go into his guts. We’re gonna get that married hole nice and sloppy before he’s allowed to taste any.”

    I feel a wave of shame as he talks about me like that. A slutty piece of meat for their use. But that shame is quickly overwhelmed by the building hunger, I want to taste them but I want to feel them unloading in my ass even more.

    “Yeah yeah, I know.” The man fucking my face doesn’t let up…if anything, his hip thrusts become harder. More insistent. “Still gonna enjoy this mouth first.”

    I hear muttering from Grant behind me and a response from Mitch, who sounds like his mouth is full. I want to watch, instead I gag as the new winner shoves himself against my throat again and again, his fingers digging in as he holds the side of my head.

    He yelps and steps back. I fall forward onto my hands, losing my balance, as my spit drips off his throbbing cock close enough to swallow again.

    “Too close,” he huffs in front of me. “Who’s next?”

    A hand cups my ass, sliding across the cheek, and then a finger presses against the slim piece of fabric separating the room full of increasingly horny men as my hole.

    I feel like I’m on fire as this new man digs his finger into my flesh through the thong.

    “Somebody else get that throat busy,” the man growls behind me. “I need to play with this.”

    “No fucking!” Grant yells and I turn to look at him. My eyes widen at the sight of his 9 fat inches of uncut cock being thrust in and out of Mitch’s willing mouth. He’s using him as he watches another man step in front of me to present his cock, and it looks like it could almost give Grant a run for his money.

    “I know, man. This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.” Whoever’s behind me kneels down and grasps my firm cheeks, kneading the flesh, pulling them apart. I feel his hot breath on me as the leaking cock in front of me slides between my lips. “But I need a taste.”

    Now on all fours, the man in front of me sinks his cock into my throat quick and hard, and I convulse and sputter around the intruder, fighting to keep calm and try not to struggle for breath.

    The man behind me pulls the thong’s flimsy strap aside and his mouth crashes against my ass like a wave upon the shore, wet tongue probing into me as his lips mash against the tender skin around my entrance, fingers holding my cheeks apart as he pushes to get his tongue ever-deeper into my hole.

    The man in front of me withdraws his cock and I pant for breath, finally starting to control my breathing as he advances again and his cock is pushing into my throat.

    The man behind me hungrily licks and nibbles and passionately kisses my hole, and as much as I want him to keep going for hours I want him to open me up further, to finger me and fuck me make me gape.

    My nose is buried in the bushy pubes of the man in front of me when another man steps up and he pulls back until the head is pressed against my lips.

    The other man’s cock head joins his, both rubbing against each other, smearing precum onto my lips and I lap at them.

    I suck the newcomer, squeezing him with my mouth, throbbing at the new taste before I move back to the first cock. He’s definitely bigger and now I can savor the way he stretches my lips as I alternate between the two.

    My brain becomes empty as I focus on the pleasure. The pleasure of the man growling and moaning as he laps at my asshole, the pleasure of the two men now making out as I try fitting both of their cocks into my mouth only to give up and take turns sucking them again.

    And then the sound of pleasure erupts behind me.

    I pull off the two men to swivel my head around just in time to see Mitch has been stroking Grant, who’s now exploding into Mitch’s cupped hand, grunting and yelling as his body shakes and twitches.

    It feels like forever as his load flows into Mitch’s hand, spilling out the side to run down his arm before he brings his other hand up to collect the last few spurts.

    The man behind me chuckles and pulls away from me. I can’t help but whimper.

    As Mitch stands and moves over to take his place my heart begins to accelerate.

    As I feel a finger against my now-wet hole I drop my face to the floor, pushing my ass up further and Mitch’s finger sinks into me easily.

    I gasp as his finger slips out but then returns, Grant’s hot load now coating it, and he begins pumping his finger in and out before adding another one.

    My cock bounces and I glance back at it. A string of precum drips to the floor through the soaked blue fabric which stretches obscenely around me.

    Mitch’s fingers leave me again as he adds more of Grant’s cum to them before he plunges them straight into me, roughly postponing them now, making my body tremble at the thought of finally getting my workmate’s cum into me but not getting to feel his cock.

    Mitch’s fingers are in me up to the knuckle and he grinds them, stretching me just a bit more before he eases them halfway out and I feel another slick finger fighting my ring to join them.

    I groan as they’re buried all the way in again.

    “Push out.” Mitch’s fingers slide back out until it’s just the tips pushing at the bottom of my hole, and I obey.

    I almost jump when I feel it. Mitch is pouring what’s left of Grant’s load on my hole, using his fingers to try and keep me open enough that it’s dripping into me, and I moan as the room spins around me.

    Grant steps in front of me now and I rise up onto all fours again, his cock dangling in front of my face, the smell of his cum and his sweat overpowering me. A strand of cum hangs from the tip and I wish he’d let me clean his cock to taste him.

    “Henry. You’re first.” Somebody mutters an obscenity and Mitch moves out of the way. Henry grab hold of my hips and plunges his cock forward before I’ve even had a chance to see which one he is.

    He’s the guy who lost the game when I first arrived. He’s pretty hot with solid shoulders and a thick beard. He’s lost his shirt showing a strong belly covered in fur which sits on the back of my ass as he bottoms out in my cum-lubed hole, holding himself there for a minute as I get used to the feeling of cock again.

    Mitch drops to his knees in front of me and does what I wish I could, swooping forward to capture the last of Grant’s cum and suck on the head.

    Then he turns his head toward me, cupping my chin and bringing his lips to mine, tenderly slipping his tongue between them as the man fucking me starts to pick up his pace.

    Mitch grins when he pulls away and brings his hand up to my face, still wet with the last of Grant’s cum.

    My eyes pivot from his hand, up to Grant, then to Mitch’s grinning face.

    I look back at Mitch’s hand, ready to move forward and finally taste Grant, but then Mitch brings it to his own face and laps at it, rubbing his hand against his tongue and his face which is shiny and wet when he’s done.

    He holds his tongue out, white with my workmate’s cum, and as my body shakes from the cock pounding into me, he moves in and kisses me.

    My tongue hungrily plunges into Mitch’s mouth, sucking, finally tasting him, and I moan uncontrollably as my hole throbs around my fucker.

    “Ohhhh yeah,” Henry purrs, “it’s happening. I’m going to…fuck! I’m gonna blow!”

    The kiss breaks as I moan, the man behind me as deep as humanly possible as his cum joins Grant’s.

    I feel cum dripping out of me as he pulls out of me.

    It’s not long before somebody takes his place and he steps around to present me with his wet cock, now beginning to soften, and I wrap my lips around it to clean him.

    The next man peels my thong down. My leaking, forgotten cock bounces free, and he wastes no time in plunging himself into my ass then jackhammering into me. Another of the men takes advantage of my mouth and then I’m finally full of cock from both ends, bouncing between them, my body vibrating with lust and excitement as they both work towards their loads.

    The man fucking my face pulls away before it’s too late, but the jackhammer unloads into me then walks around to give me his cock, the wet taste even better than it was before, and somebody else moves in to fuck me.

    I lose track of how many times I’m fucked in the following hours. There are only seven men but I get fucked more than seven times.

    Not by Grant though…he doesn’t touch me again after holding my head when I sucked the first winner.

    He ends up fucking Mitch next to me though, and he looks like he’s in paradise, moaning as his eyes roll back into his skull. We kiss while Henry fucks me, sharing the experience, hands roaming across each other as we’re both used.

    I notice he’s wearing a wedding ring too.

    Some of the guys have started to leave when I’m straddling somebody whose name I know I was told but can’t remember. It doesn’t matter.

    Cum is dripping down his balls from my ass as I slam myself onto his cock, my own still tender from having the cum fucked out of me twice, and then Grant steps up with his cock in hand.

    It’s fucking beautiful.

    Fat, hard, uncut and throbbing, he plants one leg on the couch next to us and picks up his pace, grunting as the sound of his foreskin against his dripping dick reaches my ears.

    I think the man beneath me is moaning too, but nothing else matters as Grant takes aim and explodes.

    His cum lands on my chest, splattering onto my stomach and the man underneath me.

    I’m surprised he still had some left.

    I look back down at the man I’m riding. His face is contorted, his hands resting on my hips, and there on his cheek is a glob of cum, still fresh and warm from Grant.

    I lean forward and lap it up. It’s not enough.

    Grant watches me as I scoop the cum off my chest, off my stomach, from my pubes, and I hungrily swallow every fucking drop of him.

    Grant watches me as the fire builds within me.

    He watches me as I burst, cum spilling from my untouched cock, shouts escaping my throat as I ride the forgotten man who’s groaning with his own orgasm into me.

    Grant watches as I pull my clothes onto my sweaty cum-slick body and walk out into the cool night air.

    I still have about 45 minutes before Todd finishes work and heads home. That’s plenty of time to shower and tell him I’m too tired to cook.


    Hope this wasn’t too rough, I wanted to get it done and out after rewriting it a few times.

    I’d guess there’s maybe 2-3 more chapters for this story if you guys want it, otherwise I could leave it there? “Married guy realizes there’s no fighting his need for cum and nameless cock” is kinda hot, otherwise there’s a couple of ideas I have for these guys.

  • Cashfag Likes to Pay in Public

    This is a based on a true story from one of my subs pre covid


    I sit casually on the park bench enjoying the warm sun on my sweaty body. Just left the gym after an intense workout, I sit shirtless on the bench in nothing but my trainers and a small pair of running shorts. I sip my iced coffee waiting for my weekly visit. 

    I relax back, one arm spread across the bench, legs wide exposing my strong thick hairy legs. And a sizable bulge stuffed in the tight shorts. 

    I peer over my sunglasses and see him awkwardly standing a few feet away. Pretending to be on his phone but I know he’s staring. He’s always staring. Pathetic. I make an obvious motion in his direction and he turns around. 

    He walks towards me but chickens out and pretends to stroll past, he can’t help but keep his gaze on my glistening broad chest and pert nips  as he passes. I laugh out loud and he scurries past. A minute later he walks past again, a little closer this time, I stretch my legs and trail my fingers down my chest towards the waist of my shorts. He walks slowly and stares blatantly. 

    “See something you like fatty?”

    His face goes bright red and he scurries off again. 

    I can see him out of the corner of my eye. Showtime.

    I stand up and press my hands against the back of my waist stretching forward, pushing my bulge out. Some side to side over head stretches, I spread my legs and bend forward stretching out my lower back, making sure my shorts hem are high enough exposing the white straps from my jock hugging my big round ass. I stand up and stretch across to the right, then left. 

    He’s about a foot away from the bench staring. I stop.

    “What the fuck are you looking at?”

    “No..nooothh.. Nothing…”

    “Bull shit! You’re staring at me! 

    “Nooo… No I wasn’t..”

    “You a fag or something?”

    “No….”

    “Get the fuck over her faggot.”

    He eagerly walks over. 

    Sit the fuck down!” I bark

    He can’t help but smile. 

    I put one of my legs up on the bench, my crotch about 2 feet from his face.

    “You want this don’t you?! You nasty fucking pig”

    “I… I … “

    “You, you… you What?!”

    “It’s just so big.”

    “Yeah, bet you have a pathetic tiny cock huh? Don’t you?”

    He’s started to rub the inside of his crotch.

    “Say it, I have a pathetic tiny faggot cock.”

    “I have a pathetic cock.”

    “No… a pathetic TINY faggot cock.”

    “I have a pathetic tiny faggot cock.” 

    “You wish you had my cock don’t you? You want my big thick manly cock, my big heavy nuts?” I 

    grab my crotch for emphasis. 

    “Yes sir! I do, I wish I had your manly cock. I want to serve it.”

    “All you fags the same. So fucking pathetic. Bet you would pay me just to look at it, huh? Pay for the chance to admire a real man? A man you can never have because you’re such a gross pathetic piece of shit.”

    “Yes” he whispers, his hand is rubbing his jeans furiously.

    “So give me all the cash in your wallet.”

    “But sir…”

    “Who deserves it more, a truly gorgeous alpha muscle god with a huge cock or a pathetic fat faggot like you?”

    “You… you do.”

    “Hand it over.”

    He slides his wallet out and goes to take the cash out but I rip it out of his hands…I pull out the wad of cash and throw the wallet back at him. I count out the stack of 20s. 

    “500? That’s all you think I’m worth? All you think this 9.5 inches of uncut god meat” I pull up the leg of my shorts and jock exposing my soft heavy cock and balls.

    “It’s all I …. Havvvvvveee.” I see the wet spot form in his crotch. Today was quick.

    “Fucking pathetic.” I spit on him, shove my cash into my pocket, grab my bag and walk off without another glance knowing he is watching me walk away, red faced, embarrassed and oh so satisfied. 

    I feel my phone buzz. Another $100 deposit to my online account. “Thank you sir!”

    I laugh to myself… he just can’t get enough and unlike any other situation, the faster he gets off the more I make. 

    “See. You. Tomorrow. You. Piece. Of. Shit!” I text him one by one. 

    I see “$20 received” notifications 7 times, each with a thank you. 


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  • Big Sky Country

    Gabriel—even Jay Jones insisted that Gabe call himself Gabriel now—didn’t know why Jay insisted that he come to this concert. He wasn’t a concert sort of person—or at least wasn’t until Jay took on the crusade of refining him. Even then Jay didn’t usually want them to be seen at the same concert. Gabriel was the actor’s hidden boy toy, although not jealously so; Jay wasn’t shy about sharing Gabe with other men who could advantage Jay. Gabriel particularly didn’t like Latin music. But then, as the studio executive, Julio Martinez, came down the aisle, necessitating that Gabriel stand at his seat to let him pass in the row, and then sat down in the seat beside Gabriel and gave him a knowing little smile, Gabriel reminded himself that he did know why he was here. Jay must need something from Martinez, Gabriel thought.

    “Here” was the Hollywood Bowl amphitheater on a warm and star-encrusted—both in the heavens and in the theater—August 18th, 1955, night. The venue was the third day of the Festival of the Americas, organized by the composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein as musical director. It was Latin night, and the Los Angeles Orchestra was playing Latin music under the baton of Mexican conductor and composer, Carlos Chavez. It had been four months since Gabriel had flown away from Lubbock, Texas, not realizing he was being spirited away permanently by Jay Jones, four months during which he had lived in secret in a cottage at the back of Jones’s Beverly Hills estate, coming and going through the rear alley. And it had been four months in which Jay Jones had trained him to serve Jay Jones—both underneath Jay Jones and with other men to the benefit of Jones’s career.

    Gabriel was in the section that could be called the “better” seats in the amphitheater. That was because of the man who had just entered and sat down beside him—Julio Martinez, the movie studio’s connection with Mexico, who handled everything needed in the way of support south of the border. Martinez was in the “better” seating section because he was one of the sponsors of this particular concert. Jay Jones was here tonight, but he made sure he was never seen in public with Gabriel. He was in the “best” seating section, escorting for the evening the stage and movie star, Mary Martin, who had just completed a two-week run in Skin of Our Teeth at L.A.’s Blackstone Theater. Gabriel was here, in this seat, because of Martinez. That he was at the concert at all was because Martinez had told Jay Jones about a movie to be filmed in Mexico that Jones wanted to star in, and Martinez had told Jones what he wanted to ensure Jones got the part. One of the things he wanted was to fuck Jones’s boy toy of the moment. That was Gabriel. Hollywood men like Martinez got a thrill out of knowing they were sharing a young man with a heartthrob box office actor like Jones.

    Gabriel had been given to Martinez for the evening and night. Jay Jones had told him bluntly that he was Martinez’s for the night to do whatever the man wanted to do with him—and Gabriel was to leave the man happy. Jay had come to the cottage behind his house, on the other side of the swimming pool and tennis courts, and had picked out what Gabriel was to wear—silky white jock strap and long-sleeved shirt, a tuxedo-cut ivory-white suit, and a red bow tie. Then Gabriel had been sent off to the Hollywood Bowl in a taxi and been told that Martinez would see that he was returned by noon the next day.

    “Tell whoever he has drive you to approach through the alley and return by the back gate,” Jones said. “Call me from the cottage when you’re back. I’ll want a full report.”

    Gabriel had retorted, “And photographs and semen samples?”

    “Don’t be smart,” Jones had said. “You knew you would have to lay down for me and my friends in exchange for your board and keep and movie opportunities.”

    Gabriel knew that when Jay told him to call on the phone, he meant he wasn’t to come to the main house. He only came to the main house late on a night that Jones wasn’t entertaining and then the only room Gabriel saw was Jones’s bedroom, which opened via a French door onto the back terrace. When Jones wanted to fuck him in the afternoon, he came to the cottage.

    When the lights went down in the Hollywood Bowl, and the applause had died from Carlos Chavez’s entrance and bow at the podium, and the music started, Martinez turned to Gabriel, acknowledging his presence for the first time since he sat down, put a hand on Gabriel’s knee, and whispered in his ear, “You look smashing this evening, young man. We have a reception dinner to go to for Chavez afterward, during which you can mingle, and then I’ll take you to bed for the night. I’ve looked forward to this.”

    None of this was a surprise to Gabriel. Jay Jones had made clear that he hadn’t brought Gabriel to Los Angeles to keep him to himself. In the four months they’d been here, Gabriel had been given eye-candy extra roles in a couple of beach movies but Jones had made clear that, in exchange for being kept well, Gabriel would be what Jones called, with a laugh, his “Hollywood Ho,” to be used as a party favor to further Jones’s interests.

    “We both knew you came to me as a prostitute,” he’d said, and Gabriel couldn’t gainsay that.

    * * * *

    The after-concert dinner party was more of a cocktails and assorted lumps of food standup mingle, in a ballroom of a Mexican-owned hotel near the movie studio lot in the southern quarter of Los Angeles. The party, which Julio Martinez was paying a big chunk of, and which meant he schmoozed and mingled in large gaggles of Spanish speakers far away from Gabriel, was to honor the conductor, Carlos Chavez, and assorted other Mexican personages in town. There was a smattering of movie folk from the studio, brought in by Martinez, and Gabriel knew some of these and had worked for a few who just knew him as an extra actor, used for young beefcake scenes and somehow hooked up with someone big at the studio who they weren’t supposed to know about. A few of the men associated with movies who were at the party knew Gabriel biblically. It was a town bathed in sexuality, a large measure of which was homosexual, or bisexual at least, and hedonist. Narcissism ruled here. The attention getter of the evening was Delores del Rio in person and twittering all across the room of the death earlier that month of Carmen Miranda who otherwise surely would have been here.

    Initially, Gabriel became trapped speaking with these people, as his Spanish was nearly nonexistent, but they invariably wanted to pump him to reveal how he had gotten invited to the party, and their guesses were coming too close, albeit falsely, to Martinez being his sugar daddy. There didn’t seem to be any surprise that Martinez would be some young man’s sugar daddy, so they seemed to have him pegged. Unfortunately, as they were quizzing Gabriel about relationships, they pretty much had him pegged as well. And speaking of pumping, more than one man followed him around with hopes of pumping him sexually and there were women tracing him with their eyes as well, dreaming of being pumped by him.

    As he knew neither Martinez nor Jones would be thrilled for it to be known that he was here to hook up with Martinez, Gabriel found himself filtering into the clutches of people who were chattering in Spanish. They didn’t seem to mind that he stood at the fringe of their groups and smiled and nodded his head occasionally. He was nice eye candy for the women and for more than a few of the men, Hollywood being largely a gay or bisexual, even if not acknowledged, town in the mid-1950s.

    Since he couldn’t talk and needed a crutch to make it seem like he was too busy with something else to chat, he spent a good deal of time picking cocktail glasses and cubes of food off passing plates. It was while he was doing this that he caught the first glimpse of someone who reminded him of Adrian Ames—the young man he’d fooled around with on the sports teams in Lafayette—the young man who had gone to Lubbock and tempted Gabriel to join him there but who hadn’t been there when Gabriel had final found his way to Lubbock.

    The super of the apartment building in Lubbock had said that Adrian had gone to Los Angeles to break into movies. He’d made it clear, with a smirk, though, that it had been male porn movies he was breaking into.

    Gabriel turned from the group he had been huddled with and pretending he was part of and walked the room, taking close looks at the waiters, in black tuxes, with serving trays. He was still looking when he felt the tug on his arm.

    “So, it is you.” Gabriel recognized the voice and found himself trembling a bit as he turned and looked at Adrian. “I’d had indications you had come out to L.A. Did you hear I was out here and follow me?” The voice sounded hopeful. This wasn’t the Adrian Gabriel remembered. That Adrian had been too cocky to let his voice reveal even a hint of hope like this. Nevertheless it, indeed, was Adrian Ames,

    “I didn’t find you in Lubbock,” Gabriel said.

    “I know. I heard from friends there that someone from Louisiana came looking for me. I hoped it was you. You heard I’d come out here to do movies?”

    “I got into movies right there near Lubbock,” Gabriel said. “Jay Jones is doing a movie at a big ranch near there. I hitched a ride out here with him in his studio’s airplane. I’ve got some work at the studio near here. Not much. You still doing . . . porn?”

    “A bit,” Adrian said. He said it with reservation, though, and looked away from Gabriel.

    “Don’t feel self-conscious about it,” Gabriel said, with a little laugh. “I do more work out here on my back than with my brains or brawn.”

    Adrian looked relieved. “Yes, I came out here to do porn movies. But I found I can make more money as an escort.”

    “So, you’re not a party waiter full time?”

    “It’s complicated. I came here as a waiter. But I’ll be leaving with someone. You do what you have to do in this town. And you . . . ?”

    “I’ll be leaving with someone too,” Gabriel answered.

    “Female?”

    “No, a man. A studio executive, Julio Martinez.”

    “So, you do still swing that way? And you play at the top out here.”

    “Yes. I went on—and up—from where you started me.”

    “Ah. Well, I’d like to see you . . . I’d like . . . sometime . . .”

    “I think I’d like that too,” Gabriel said. “I’d like to go with someone near my age and just for the hell of it—with neither of us doing it for more than the sheer pleasure of doing it.”

    Oh god how he’d like that. Adrian was still a hunk. And he knew he was hung. And he was young and virile and vigorous. Jay Jones was good, but, god, was Gabriel ready for variety. That’s why he hadn’t balked at going with Julio Martinez, even though Martinez was nearly as old as Jones and had a bit of a pot belly on him.

    “Sounds heavenly, Do you have a place we can . . . ?” Adrian was almost apologetic. He had been so dominant with Gabriel at the time that it was almost embarrassing for him to almost grovel now.

    “No, that wouldn’t be possible,” Gabriel said.

    “You got a daddy, do you mean?” Adrian asked. “This studio guy, Martinez?”

    “No. Someone else.” God how he’d like to reveal that his sugar daddy was Jay Jones. But he didn’t want to rub it in with Adrian and he was well aware that continuing with Jones necessitated keeping his secret—even from an old friend like Adrian. “Let’s just say that I can’t have anyone back to my place. And you?”

    “I could figure something out. Here, I have a card. I’ll write the number on the back. Don’t call the number on the face of the card.”

    Apollo Entertainment, it said on the side opposite of the one Adrian scrawled his telephone number on. “Your escort service?” Gabriel asked.

    “You do what you have to do out here,” Adrian answered. “You’re really looking good, Gabe. If the time comes that you need . . . well, you know . . . you might try these guys.”

    “I’m not sure how long I’m out here for,” Gabriel said. That surprised even him. He hadn’t thought about it, but he had thought it was a direct turnaround flight when he’d come out here to begin with, and he’d just let himself drift into doing what others wanted. It was the submissive in him, he guessed. But now that he thought about it, he realized that he hadn’t thought of it as a permanent arrangement. He still thought about Frank Doyle and Sunshine Ranch. But he had made no effort to contact Frank. Why was that, he wondered. Wasn’t it embarrassment that he’d just flown away with Jay Jones? That Jones had reduced me to being a boy toy for the actor and his friends? That he had just left Frank in the dust? He hadn’t intended to do any of that.

    And here, he was thinking about Frank when he had the man standing in front of him who he’d left Louisiana to find in the first place.

    “But, yeah, I’d like to hook up with you. I’ll call you soon and we’ll set something up.”

    Adrian’s answering smile was worth the plane trip to the West Coast.

    Not long later, Gabriel had occasion to feel sorry for Adrian in terms of the dreams of Hollywood stardom he had revealed to Gabriel when they were both young and had aspiration back in Louisiana. Gabriel had gone to one of the more remote men’s rooms in the venue and, as he was saddling up to a urinal and unzipping himself, he heard them in one of the cubicles at the end of the row. Turning his head, he could see the soles of the shoes of someone who obviously was on his knees, facing the toilet. The faint sounds Gabriel heard were the unmistakable, to him who was well familiar with them, sounds of a man being given a blow job, complete with directions and guttural sounds of pleasure.

    The familiar sounds and the image of the circumstance caused Gabriel to go hard at the urinal, and he had to wait to be able to piss. As he was doing so, the door to the cubicle opened, and Adrian came out. He was wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. He saw Gabriel at the urinal, gave him an embarrassed look, shrugged, and, without saying anything, left the men’s room.

    Gabriel had managed to bring his shaft under control and was finishing urinating when a man, squat, fat, and bald, came out of the cubicle. He was readjusting his trousers and smiled when he saw Gabriel at the urinals. Gabriel recognized him as a sweaty and dumpy fifty-year-old subproducer on minor films at a major studio. He’d been at parties Gabriel had attended before and had leered at the young man there and made suggestive comments that Gabriel had never felt lowered enough to respond to. And Adrian, who had once been Gabriel’s master, had just given this toad a blow job in a men’s room toilet cubicle.

    Seeing his chance, the man bellied into a urinal next to Gabriel, and pulled his shaft out. Gabriel noted that the man’s cock was actually his best feature. Giving Gabriel a little smile, he reached over to touch Gabriel’s cock. The young man shuddered, turned away and zipped himself up, and left the men’s room.

    He may have sunk low to get to—and stay in—Hollywood, but Gabriel hadn’t sunk as low as Adrian had yet. He intended never to have to.

    * * * *

    When it came time to leave—for Gabriel to leave, not for Julio Martinez to go—Martinez’s chauffeur came into the party room and tapped Gabriel on the shoulder. They went out through the kitchens and Gabriel entered the black Cadillac limousine, with its smoked windows, and sank to the back corner of the backseat. Then he waited and waited, as the chauffeur leaned against the front fender of the limo and smoked Lucky Strikes. More than an hour later, one of the party planners leaned out of the kitchen door and signaled that Martinez was ready to go. The limousine pulled up in front of the hotel, the chauffeur opened the rear door for the studio executive, and Gabriel sank as far back into the darkness of the car’s interior as he could, out of view from those on the sidewalk, until the Cadillac glided away from the curb.

    Martinez fucked Gabriel in one of the VIP bungalows kept in a section in back of the administrative offices on the movie studio lot—or, rather, Gabriel rode Martinez there. The walrus-like Mexican movie executive was a lazy lover. His cock was of a nice size and he could keep it hard for an admirably long time—Gabriel was convinced that this movie people had access to some sort of erection drug that hadn’t made it to the market yet—but he more or less just lay there and made Gabriel do all of the work.

    He also didn’t seem to be much, Gabriel thought, from the man’s initial behavior, for affection or giving attention. There was some lip work and fondling in the back of the limousine, but the ride from hotel to studio lot was a short one, and Martinez didn’t show any interest in cuddling when they got there. What he demonstrated he wanted was to fix himself a stiff drink at the bungalow’s well-stocked bar that took up much of the living room, put a record of Latin music on that had almost given Gabriel a headache when it was played live at the Hollywood Bowl earlier and wasn’t much more welcome to him now, and had Gabriel strip down to his jock strap and red bow tie and dance for him while Martinez sipped his scotch on the rocks and watched, with slitted eyes, the young man’s dance.

    Then he had Gabriel kneel in front of him, unzip him, and suck him full hard, while Martinez sang in Spanish in hushed tones to the record. This brought back thoughts of Adrian sucking off the discussing subproducer in the men’s room cubicle earlier that evening, but he contented himself with the thought that Martinez was a far more presentable and powerful man.

    Gabriel thought the man’s singing was actually better than the instrumental background. A love song was being played now, though, and Gabriel managed to get turned on by a combination of the hard cock stroking inside his mouth and the Spanish being sung.

    They fucked on the wide bed in the bungalow’s bedroom. Martinez lay there on his back, looking a bit like a beached whale, but with a quite adequate rock-hard shaft, while Gabriel rode the cock from all four points of the compass. Jay Jones’s admonition to him to make the man happy was ringing in Gabriel’s ears. He retained the bow tie and the jock strap for the fuck, but Martinez did insert a hand under the pouch of the jock strap after Gabriel had ridden him facing his face, facing his feet, and now facing his left side, and masturbated Gabriel’s cock to an ejaculation while Gabriel rode him.

    Martinez didn’t come until Gabriel had done his full circle and they were lying side by side on the bed, with Gabriel slowly jerking the heavy Mexican off and Martinez smoking a Chesterfield cigarette. Gabriel was a bit depressed, as he felt that Martinez hadn’t enjoyed the fuck much. He was distant and there was no touchy feely or lip work while Gabriel was riding him.

    But Gabriel was mistaken. Martinez had just been savoring the experience.

    “Do you like this bungalow?” Martinez asked after he’d come and Gabriel had rolled off his side onto his back.

    “Yes, it’s very nice,” Gabriel answered.

    “It’s stocked twice a week and cleaned twice a week too—on different days. That includes restocking the bar. There’s a pool area on the other side of the rank of bungalow’s behind this one.”

    “Is there?” Gabriel asked. Why was the man telling him this?

    “We double up in some of the bungalows, but this one is assigned at my discretion. You could have it all to yourself—and to me, of course, if you were willing to become my boy.”

    Ah so, Gabriel thought. He liked the fuck after all. He’s pitching to be my sugar daddy. “You know I live at Jay Jones’s,” he said.

    “Now, yes, but I thought you would be looking for a new situation.”

    “A new situation?”

    Martinez was showing more life and more interest now. He stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand, turned onto his side facing Gabriel, rolled Gabriel onto his side facing away from him, and pulled the jock strap down and off Gabriel’s legs.

    So now he was going to do the fucking, Gabriel thought. The man was more into this than he’d previously shown.

    “Jay Jones isn’t known for keeping a young man for very long,” Martinez murmured. “He uses the changes in his location stints to change partners. I am a steadier man, and I can be very valuable to a young man wanting to make it in the movies.” Martinez’s fingers were working inside Gabriel’s channel.

    “Yes, well, he’s in the middle of filming Big Sky Country,” Gabriel whispered, sighing for the opening attention Julio was giving him. He reached back and grasped the man’s cock. He was hard as a rock. They were going to fuck again.

    “We go back to Texas as soon as they’ve renovated the main house for the second half of the film,” he added.

    “The house renovations have been delayed. That’s what Jay’s been pestering me about. There’s a movie he wanted to do with me filming down on the Baja Peninsula starting in a couple of weeks. We could do his scenes before he was needed back on the Big Sky Country set. And I think there’s a young man in my movie he’s been cultivating. I think that’s why he’s keen on doing this movie.”

    “And that’s what I’m doing here?” Gabriel asked. “Being given to you to convince you to let Jay take another guy off to Mexico?”

    “Do you find me repulsive?”

    “No, not at all.” And he didn’t—at least in the dark he didn’t—not like the dude Adrian had sucked off earlier in the evening. It all depended on the cock, and this guy’s cock was more than adequate.

    “Are you sensitive to Jones treating you as his property—as an asset he can give away at his own pleasure and to further his own career?”

    “Yes, a little, I guess.”

    “I’m glad that you have some pride left. Yes, that’s what Jay Jones does. He seduces young men, uses them in various ways, and discards them. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d take care of you.”

    Martinez was all exploring hands now, covering Gabriel’s body, exploring every nook and cranny and paying attention to them. He ran the fingers of one hand into the hair on the back of Gabriel’s head, turned the young man’s head to him, and possessed his mouth with a demanding-tongue kiss. Gabriel gasped through the kiss as the fingers of the other hand invaded his channel and spread it open. The fingers were replaced by a hard, deep-probing cock, and the Mexican fucked Gabriel hard in a side split for several minutes and then, rolling over on top of him, with Gabriel on his belly, and Martinez now saddled on him, suddenly come to life, grabbing the top of the brass headboard overhead for leverage, and pounding, pounding, pounding, as Gabriel writhed under him, his fists also gripping the brass headboard rungs for dear life, his unheeded cries for mercy transcending to cries for more, deeper, longer.

    Afterward they both lay there, side by side, sweating and gasping for breath.

    “So, should I hire Jay Jones for the movie down on the Baja Peninsula with you moving here?” Martinez asked. “I’ll give you a car as well. A nice convertible perhaps?”

    “And you’d give me the cock regularly?”

    “Oh, yes, I’ll give you the cock regularly. That’s why I have this bungalow just steps away from my office at the studio.”

  • Older submissive guy dominated and spit-roasted

    I had now been having regular weekend sessions with my dominant tops, Macca and Kevin, for nearly 2 months. I looked forward to each weekend knowing how good the sex would be, and I was never disappointed.

    My studs were not just horny tops, they were also affectionate and great kissers. Both in their mid-fifties but in great shape and looking younger. I was addicted to serving their cocks and having them use me, and we had promised to be exclusive with each other so they could fuck me without condoms.

    Unusually, I got a call from Kevin mid-week. The guys wanted to discuss something important, and couldn’t talk about it on the phone, so could I come over that night about seven? “Sure” I replied, and started worrying about what they wanted to discuss. Was one of them unwell? Were they sick of me and wanted to end our arrangement? Were they breaking up? My mind ran wild with doomsday thoughts, so I was feeling truly apprehensive when I drove over to their apartment that night.

    When I entered the apartment, Macca took my face in his hands and gave me a long kiss, then Kevin took over and did the same. They sat me down on the couch, one each side of me as usual, and Kevin started to explain the reason for their call.

    “The three of us agreed to be exclusive with each other, you remember, and we have never wanted to break that agreement. But something happened two nights ago.”

    Macca took over the story. “It’s my fault. I went online on Tuesday and saw a profile of a guy who was looking to be dominated. He’s 60 and his body looked in great shape, and I weakened and messaged him. Thirty minutes later he was in our bedroom being fucked for the first time, first by me then by Kevin. We used condoms of course. This guy loved it, just like you do.”

    I spoke up: “Guys, are you saying you are breaking things off with me?”

    “Fuck no!” Kevin exclaimed. “We love having you as our fuck-buddy and we want to keep that. But this guy was a bitch in heat just like you are when we have sex, and we began thinking that maybe you’d be OK if we made it a four-some. We’ll understand if you object, if you do we won’t see him again.”

    “But”, added Macca, “if you’re pissed off with us and want to end things, we can’t blame you …”

    I knew I didn’t want things to end, and I was strangely excited by the idea of being in a four-way, so I told the guys I definitely wanted to stay with them, and I would most probably find it exciting to have another man beside me as we both got our arses pounded. But if they were going to bare-back him then he needed to abide by the agreement to be tested and be exclusive.

    Macca took my face in his hands again and gave me a long tongue-filled kiss. “Thank you for being so fucking decent, I was feeling so bloody guilty about this” he eventually said.

    “Guilt is a waste of energy, stud” I replied, then I asked if I could see this guy’s profile. Macca brought up the pics on his phone, plus one of the guy’s face he had taken in the apartment. Yeah, he was damn hot for a sixty-year-old, and I told Macca I could see why he went for it.

    Kevin then asked if I would like them to set up a session with the guy this Saturday, and I said “Go for it mate”. I asked his name and Macca replied “His name’s Pete. He’s retired already and swims a lot to keep in shape. He was married and has adult kids but his wife died a year or so back and he has just started exploring cock. Pete said he had often fantasised about being another man’s sex-slave but had never acted on that till he posted the profile online last week”

    “You don’t mean you guys were his first gay experience?” I queried, and Macca smiled and confirmed that was the case.

    “His cock-sucking skills need some practice” he laughed “but he took our cocks up his pussy like he was born for it.”

    Kevin added “He seems hungry to try new experiences, we think he might enjoy piss-play like you do, I reckon he’ll get down and dirty with us.”

    “OK guys” I said, “set it up and we’ll see how things go. I’m all for a bit of experimentation. But now that I’m here are you in the mood for some action?”

    “Fuck yeah” growled Macca and tongue-kissed me roughly. Kevin slipped out his cock and started to stroke himself erect as he watched his lover swap spit with me. I broke contact with Macca’s demanding mouth long enough to say I wanted them inside me and we stumbled into the bedroom, yanking our clothes off and falling onto the bed.

    I grabbed the lube and applied plenty to my crack then got on my back lifting my legs as Kevin entered me and began telling me what a sexy bitch I was and how he would soon fill me with his spunk. I couldn’t reply as Macca’s boner was in my mouth and I was gasping for breath. Kevin was more aggressive than he had even been before, called me his bitch and said he owned my arse.

    Fact is they both owned my arse and it wasn’t long before Kevin had come hard inside me and Macca was taking his place to fuck me roughly. He bent over me and wrapped his arms behind my back, taking control of my mouth and swapping his spit into it. This was something that really pressed my buttons and I moaned in ecstasy as he climaxed inside me, filling me with his hot load.

    After we had recovered from the excitement of sex, we had a quick shower. I joked that I probably was costing them money with all the extra towels to wash and dry. Kevin flicked my backside with his towel and said my arse was worth whatever it cost in energy bills!

    I said my goodbyes and headed home, wondering how the coming experiment on Saturday would work out. I was a little nervous about it – would this guy be so hot that my studs would lose interest in me? Damn-it I thought, I have to stop thinking negatively.

    Saturday came around soon enough. I rolled up at the apartment at five o’clock and was greeted with a sloppy kiss from both my studs. They had asked Pete to be here at five-fifteen, and they used the time to tell me that Pete had been to the clinic and had the all-clear, and also that he had agreed to the same exclusivity arrangement I had made with the guys. So bare-backing was on the agenda.

    When Pete came through the doorway I definitely approved of the visuals. He had a trim beard, short blond hair, and a neat waist with broad shoulders. We were introduced and shook hands, and then sat down on the couch while Macca got us all a beer. With four of us on the couch it was pretty tight space-wise and and Pete’s body was hard up against mine. I liked the feeling.

    After a few swigs of beer, Kevin started kissing me and Macca began tongue-kissing Pete. It was nice and sexy, but then Macca said “Pete, how about you and Denis kiss each other”. Well that was fine by me, I tongued Pete’s mouth and he was really into it. Then Macca said “My turn again” and began kissing Pete more passionately as Kevin locked lips with me again. It was really hot, I just love group action.

    After a while Kevin suggested it was time for the bedroom, and we headed in there and peeled off our gear. The guys told Pete and me to each get on the bed on all fours. Kevin slid his cock into my mouth and Macca pushed his cock into Pete’s mouth and they began to ride our faces. After a little while the two studs swapped places and rode our mouths a while longer, before telling us to move around sideways so Pete and I were facing each other with our respective arses towards the sides of the bed. I heard Kevin open the lube bottle and soon Pete and I had our holes lubed up ready for the invasion. Macca slid into Pete as Kevin entered me, then Macca told us to kiss each other while they fucked us. I was in heaven, a hot man swapping spit with me as we each had our backsides filled with rampant cock.

    Macca was always the most verbal of the two, he started whispering to Pete that he was a bitch who needed regular fucking and he and Kevin would use Pete just like they used me, we were both their bitches now. Pete became verbal too, begging Macca to breed him and give him his first load of cum in his arse. Kevin joined in, “Make him your bitch Macca, I’m gonna have his pussy later on after I finish breeding my bitch here.”

    I love dirty talk. Macca never had any trouble talking filthy and I was glad to hear Kevin getting more creative with it. It turns me on something chronic.

    Eventually the studs unloaded in me and Pete and then we rested a while before getting cleaned up.

    We ate some snack food and downed a couple more beers while we got to know a bit more about each other. I knew Macca and Kevin had been together for several years, and I learned that last week’s session had definitely been Pete’s first time with a man, much less two of them!

    Pete told us getting fucked by them both for his first time earlier in the week had been awesome but he was really turned on knowing that “Macca just unloaded his spunk in my arse and I’m looking forward to taking Kevin’s raw load later tonight”.

    “Good to hear mate, ‘cos I’m gonna fill you right up with my juice before long” Kevin declared, and Macca grabbed me by the shoulder and whispered not-so-quietly “and I’m gonna fuck you senseless in a little while”.

    It was maybe an hour later when Pete and I were on our knees in the bedroom, sucking Kevin and Macca respectively. Kevin reminded Pete to keep his teeth well clear and told him he could learn to control the gag reflex with practice. And proceeded to give Pete some practice at it, sliding his cock right down Pete’s throat. Pete spluttered and coughed but bravely kept sucking. Macca was deep-throating me, something I had grown to love, and Kevin told Pete to watch while Macca sank his cock right down my throat and fucked my face.

    Soon enough, the studs hauled us to our feet and ordered us to lie down on our backs. Kevin opened the lube again and was soon ramming Pete’s arse-hole like a bull with a heifer. Pete was loving it, “Fuck yeah, fuck me hard” he groaned, and it was clear Pete was just like me, a bitch in heat who needed plenty of cock.

    And I was getting plenty as Macca pounded into me, locking lips with me and swapping his spit with mine, he knew I loved him doing that. Then hissing into my ear “You’re our bitch, we own yer fuck-hole, I’m gonna fill ya with a big load right now mate” and he proceeded to ram me like a wild man before cursing and grunting as he emptied his balls into my arse.

    Seconds later Kevin erupted inside Pete, growling “Take my fuckin’ load, take it all” as Peter begged “Fuck yeah stud, fill me with it, fill me up”.

    Eventually we all took turns showering then we climbed under the sheets together. Macca held Pete in his arms, Kevin held me, and we kissed and drifted off to sleep.

    When morning came things were a little more subdued. Macca had a boner so he pushed Pete down into his crutch and told him to get him off. I wasn’t about to ignore Kevin’s needs, and slid down to put my face in his sexy ginger thatch and started slurping on his meat till he was hard and thrusting into my throat. Before long I was rewarded with his hot tangy spunk as it streamed into my mouth and I guzzled it down, not wanting to waste a drop.

    Macca soon followed suit, flooding Pete’s mouth with semen, which Pete swallowed like a champ, it seemed he was getting the hang of oral sex pretty quickly.

    We had breakfast together and did a bit of kissing between us all, then Pete and I left and headed down in the lift to the car-park. As we went, Pete asked if he could raise something with me in confidence. I said that was fine, whereupon Pete admitted that he was wondering whether Macca or Kevin had ever showed any interest in using a collar on me, or anything else that was “kinky”.

    I confessed a collar had never been mentioned but I was open to it, a bit more domination and submission would suit me fine. I then told Pete that the boys had done some piss-play with me, if he might find that of interest. Pete smiled and said he would definitely like to try it, so I said lets plan for next Saturday. We’ll both buy a collar and wear it when we get to the apartment, and I will make sure we initiate a piss-session at some stage so you can join me on your knees and we’ll both get a hosing down.

    Pete put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Denis I was really nervous about how you’d react to me joining in with Macca and Kevin but I feel good about it now. I think we’re kindred spirits and we can share our tops without getting insecure about it, don’t you think?”

    I responded that I found our foursome session really hot and I was sure we were both going to enjoy being Macca and Kevin’s sluts again next Saturday.

    And we headed off in our respective vehicles feeling well satisfied and looking forward to our next weekend session.


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  • Now it was about my bisexual tendency’s

    I have been bisexual before I meet her. She laid her bisexuality bare we got together with couples and she enjoyed herself with another woman. She shared her bisexuality with me I got her comfortable with her desires and fantasies. In some ways, I wanted to share my bisexuality with her. It was something I was never comfortable with myself.  The thought of her seeing me sucking a dick. Or her ever seeing me getting fucked with a dick in my ass and enjoying it.  I thought and decided not to ever tell her or her to see it.  It was more about my discomfort about it myself.

    I was laid off looking for a job all morning. I got so fed up I was going to do something had not done In years. I wanted to go suck a dick.  I went to an adult book store. There were not even glory holes back then.  It was just a booth padded bench seat with a big screen.  I pulled up parked had not been there in years.  Went in got tokens went in booth put tokens in started jagging off.  The door cracked open bit he looks in said can I come in? I said sure. We were both jagging off watching the porn. Then he gets on his knees starts sucking me.

    I was enjoying it he was a real cocksucker sucked my dick passionately.  I wanted we bearly got on padded set 69ing felt so good to suck a dick again. In some ways, I hate to admit to myself but mostly to others, I am a real cocksucker. I love sucking dick. I have a  fetish for hairless tight smooth balls.  I love balls. We were getting into sucking each other off stopping to put tokens in. We were both running out of tokens. I get this bright idea think she won’t be home for hours. I suggest we go to my house. He follows me we both park.

    We walk in not 10 feet from the door take our clothes off. We get on the floor start sucking each other 69ing. He had a sweet dick long slender slight curve.  Hesucking I had not got my dick sucked like that in a long time. We were enjoying ourselves.  I wanted to time cum  both of us at the same time in each other’s mouths.  We were in sync sucking each other’s dicks.

    The door opens she is standing there I did not even have time to take his dick out of my mouth. She is standing there big bird her mouth hanging open looking right at me had a dick in my mouth. Me and him, not 10 feet from the door on the floor both naked sucking each other off. Think like what am I suppose to say this is not what it looks like? I was busted looking at me with a  dick in my mouth. Now she knows I am a cocksucker. I stopped for like 40 seconds.  Thought why stop she still standing there big bird staring mouth hanging open.

    Not only she walks in and sees me sucking a dick he is black I mean black. She still standing looking not a word. I would felt better if she started screaming. The silence was excruciating. I said fuck it start pumping his dick moving my head up and down on it. I looked up still standing there. I motioned her down.  I pulled his dick out of my mouth pointed it at her she started sucking it. I went down licking kissing his balls. I love balls his perfect no hair tight sure she has seen me making love to his balls not care at that point. Came up she pulled his dick out of her mouth pointed it at me as I did to her. We both start licking it we both licking his dick head looking into the eyes of each other her eyes lit up. I started feeling at ease both of us sucking it taking turns.

    We both sucked his dick with the same enthusiasm. I do have a bit of like for black dicks. Thought well we had that in common watching her. Figured almost relieved she knew I was a cocksucker. So then she on her back he was eating her pussy. He had the most beautiful round jet black ass. It was up high.  It was an open invite put my dick in his ass.  She is looking up watching me fucking his nice ass.  His face buried in her pussy tearing it up. She looking watching me pound his nice black ass.  Her legs go up to watch her toes curl.  Said to him you rang her bell. He says we rang her bell. She was smiling not a word till then was exchanged between any of us.

    Then days weeks never spoke of it. One day out of the blue asks me do you prefer black dicks?  I said not really but not turn down. I did not want to say yes I love big black dicks. Started talking about how much she enjoyed it. She asked me about anal. If I had ever done it. Thought I could make this special for her.  I told her no I never did that. Started talking to her about how much she loved me fucking her in the ass. She was one of the few women that had ever asked for it wanted it. 

    She started telling me how good anal felt and saying I would love it. I would put my dick head in her ass she would say stop want to relax.  She explained that to me saying when it first goes in stop relax get ready. Then she started going on about wanting to see me and participating in me getting fucked in my ass.  I was almost relieved I love getting fucked in the ass.  Never knew how or if I would ever tell her or if she would see.  I watched her with other women. It started to turn me on her watching participating in me getting buttfucked and her thinking it was my first time.

    It took me time to get her to admit to herself and me she was bisexual. Longer to fulfill her desires in front of me. Now she was getting me ready to take a big dick up my ass for the first time? It got her so hot. Explaining how she wants to lube the dick lube my ass and spread my cheeks. How she would guide it in my ass. How she would say when how fast and hard for me to get fucked.  She had this all worked out. She was my you’re going to get buttfucked coach. She had it all planned out. 

    She started telling me how she would lube his dick and my ass. How she would spread my cheeks guide it in. The how she wanted to get under me on all fours sucking my dick see a dick going in out my ass. She was really into it. It was almost funny. I wanted as much or more than she did. One day she comes walking out strap on. I at her looked like WTF? I looked at her.  She was walking around this strap-on on walking acting like me. She got the power I bust out laughing said take that back to the store. Brought to mind a psychology class discussion was about penis envy in women. I dismissed it but after that, I wondered. I figured think better to let this happen for her.

    Me as well.  I thought well she seemed comfortable with the black guy. Knew one asked if he would go along with this. We got together now and then big loved it in my ass. So I told her we’re going to do this she got excited.  Told her would be back and do it. She had the lube ready it was sort of sweet.  So came in I started sucking it she came over helping. He was big we were both on it. She seemed to have no discomfort that he was black. 

    Then she like coach calling shots now.  Lubed up his dick I got on all fours she spread my ass cheeks and like she said guided it in. His dick head went in says stop let him relax. He puts it in she says just a bit squeezing my ass. Then asks me are you comfortable said ya. She says fuck him good. Gets under sucking my dick. She starts talking says you like this big dick in your ass? I said know I love it. Asks does it feel good? I said no it feels great. She says see I told you that you would like it. Told her I want it harder faster. Tells him fuck him harder faster. Knew she would like that.

    Then she crawls out from under me. Squeezing my ass. Tells him to pull it out then put it back in she would guide it. New to me it felt good I mean good. He was pulling it out then putting it back in all the way. She looked at me evil look says you like that, don’t you?  I said faster harder.  She had me going. Pulled it out completely then put it in deep smack my ass hard OMG felt so good.  It was an overwhelming feeling to wonder how she had come up with that?

    I had just got a good butt fucking resting she is now giving orders. I was like WTF? She had him bent over lubing up his ass slapping his ass saying what do you want? He goes along with her says I want a dick in my ass. Was not part of my plan I start fucking him. She on him you like that dick in your ass don’t you?  He says I love it. I fucked  the hell out of him. Ordering me to suck this dick you know you love it want it. Wheels coming off the wagon.

    She on it tells me to get up on bed put my ass up high. I did it. She grabs him by his dick saying lick it kiss it you know you love this big black dick. I did. She is out of control all fired up enjoying this. She was ordering him around I bust out laughing he was getting into it. She spreading my ass saying put it in. I was on my hand’s knees she spreading my ass again.  His dick goes in saying fuck him good fuck him hard. He did too.

    Like WTF? She was supposed to observe.  Now it is her show. I did not believe I fucked him. Never did that she had him say he wanted it and hard and fast. This was funny. In a good way. She got him fucking me in the ass again slapping his ass saying faster harder. He is too I mean pounding the hell out of my ass I loved it. She pulls my dick out of her mouth says fuck him harder. I looked back at him said who the fuck put the quarter in you?  He says you did asshole. We all but out laughing.  It was fun she surprised me.

    I used to go to the bathhouse. She would ask how was your trip to the bathhouse? In actuality, I fucked a couple of guys sucked 6 dicks got buttfucked in swing. Not tell her. She asked once I told her big mistake said I fucked two guys sucked 5 dicks and got fucked on the floor in my room and once in the swing. Not sure what she would say. Says glad you had a good time. I would get crabby get upset things should not have just get in a horrible mood sometimes.

    She said I want to talk to you. Sit at the table ask what? Worried wondering what’s going on. She puts her hand on my arm says you’ve been grouchy I think you should go to the bathhouse get a big dick in your ass fuck a few guys suck some dicks.I got so fuckin mad. Said I should have never told you about what went on at the bathhouse I was yelling mad. I am angry about many things and now another you saying thinking a stiff dick up my ass or sucking a few dick and fucking some guys is going to cure me. I am angry about shit lots of stuff is getting on my nerves and you thinking I need a dick in my ass making it worst.  I was ready for a straight jacket.

    So I get out of there trying to calm down not want to say anything regret. Riding buses then get on train walk platform to platform train to train just thinking calming down.  The hear stop its bathhouse stop. I figure I am here why not. Get out it open 24 hours its late guy asks where you been. Said rather not talk about it. It’s deserted glad just wanted to lay down in my room sleep.  Get to my room guy walks up out shadow butt naked nice dick. He Asks how you doing. Said ok asks if he can come in. Said sure. Turn TV on always gay porn. We are both jagging off. I attack his dick sucking licking kissing his balls. I get up on the bed all fours say put it in spread my ass cheeks wide.

    He starts fucking me in the ass OMG it felt so good. Lay down again sucking his dick he sucking mine. I stand up to spread my ass cheeks I wanted to be fucked in the ass standing up. He was pounding the hell out of my ass the slapping sounds it felt so good. In moring got on the train thinking about him fucking the hell out of me and me sucking his dick. Thinking about our stupid argument it was more me just ranting she just sat there. I hated to admit it she was right. Figured called off work got off the train got on one went back.  The room was still good I got fucked like 3 more times sucked few dicks fucked4 guys in their rooms.  I went home hugged her explained she said see I was right. Embarrassed

  • Coach K

    Part 1

    Coach K was an imposing man. Easily 6 feet tall and around 350lbs. I’d guess he was in his late 50’s by the time he started coaching me. He had a dense salt and pepper beard—with increasingly more salt—and a perfectly bald head, although it was rare to see him without a baseball cap. You could tell he’d been a formidable athlete in his younger days, his body a stocky mass of muscle and fat and his knowledge of football potentially unmatched.

    Not letting his age get in the way, Coach K kept up with a heavy routine in the university gym. Myself and the other players had seen him bench press more than us on our best days. Despite his strength, he’d managed to develop a fairly enormous gut and filled out his body elsewhere through years of generous eating and drinking. But underneath that padding was an impressive mountain of muscle that caught my respect and attention the first time I saw Coach K as a young player during my senior year of high school.

    I vividly remember our first meeting. He visited our team during my varsity year as part of a recruitment scheme implemented by the local university. He was introduced to us collectively but eventually spoke to us individually. He was a stern man of not-too-many-words but he had a fatherly—almost grand-fatherly—demeanor that instantly demanded respect.

    What I noticed most that day was the tight-fitting, light pink, short sleeve polo he wore. The way his shirt hugged his giant chest, his nipples seemingly always erect and forcing themselves into the fabric. The pink was a bold choice and the fit of his clothes even bolder. His cargo shorts were so tight across his girthy hips, the bulge of his scrotum was impossible to miss. We chatted for a bit that day, but neither of us being especially talkative we didn’t share much more than platitudes about the upcoming game and how important it was to, “train hard.”

    A year or so following that introduction, I’d since made the university football team that he’d spearheaded seemingly forever. I was a pretty decent linebacker in my own right, using my 6’1, 230lb frame to my advantage. My nickname among the other players was, regrettably, “Pretty Boy,” presumably because I had such a, “cute, baby face,” as I’d incessantly been told throughout my young adulthood by friends and old ladies alike. The silly name unfortunately stuck, but over time it was mercifully shortened to P.B., eventually finding its way to Coach K, who exclusively referred to me, and most of the other players, by our acquired nicknames during training, practice, and our rare one-on-one exchanges.

    I’d had girlfriends throughout high school and a couple short relationships so far in college, but most of my attention had been directed to the football field or my grades—much less on girls. But I couldn’t keep my mind off Coach K. I found myself jerking off to thoughts of other players on my team, guys I found hot—including our first quarterback Jeremy P, and our key running back Marcus J—but my fantasies often meandered back to Coach K. His enormous build, his maturity, his grand-fatherly wisdom about life and sports all playing into his allure. His ass. The meatiness of it. His chest. The roundness of it. The way the shape of his cock pushed through his shorts whenever he sat and spread his legs. I wasn’t long on the team before I realized how much Coach K turned me on.

    Coach had been married for longer than I’d been alive. I’d heard he had a couple adult kids, two boys who had played for the very team I was on and long since gone. So with Coach K being the straight-arrow family man he was, I knew my fantasies would always remain just that: lustful imaginings fully out of reach. Until the day in September when I got what I wanted.

    Part 2

    Thinking back on it I’m still surprised it was me who made the first move… well, inadvertently at first.

    It was game day in late September, a home game against a regional university. I was half-suited up already in my navy and white, nylon-mesh football shorts and knee-high socks, but I hadn’t quite gotten to dressing my bare torso when I realized I was already a few minutes late for our meeting. Coach K had asked to speak to me in his office about some strategies for that day’s game, which I would then relay back to the other defensive linemen. The time had escaped me—despite arriving to the lockers a full hour early, no other players in sight—so I bolted to his office, which was nestled down the narrow hall of lockers and adjacent to the showers.

    I was already in his doorway when I suddenly became self-conscious of my bare chest. I should’ve at least grabbed a tank top, but I’d rushed to the late meeting without a forethought. Standing at his open door, surrounded by my thoughts, Coach K’s gaze caught my chest and lingered there. “Oh, come in Dylan.” My name. I was surprised he even knew it, I was so used to the absurd sound of “P.B.”

    He looked away and then returned to my chest a few more times. His interest took me by surprise and I suddenly found my dick hardening beneath my jock strap. He pulled his eyes away, evident awkwardness washing over his usually stoic face, and began his discussion about how we’d handle this particular team’s imposing physical size on the field that day. I was standing there half-listening, half-thinking about my state of undress in the office of the coach I’d privately nutted-to several dozen times since joining the team.

    “Fuck,” he abruptly growled, interrupting himself mid-sentence. My attention was now 100% on Coach K, having returned from a fantasy playing out somewhere in the back of my mind. Silence.

    “What?” I finally asked, stunned by his glare in my direction. Then I realized I’d absentmindedly been shifting my erection around beneath my pants into a more comfortable position. Coach was looking directly at the bulge of my cock and my hand awkwardly gripping it. Embarrassed, I immediately dropped my hand to my side, which gave Coach K an even better view of my boner. Intensified embarrassment.

    He sighed and then looked up at me, “Damn, boy. That’s a big fucking tool.” He let his words linger in the air for me to process. I could barely fathom he was talking about my dick. “Is that something you need to take care of on your own?” He spoke, jokingly, letting out a slight jolly chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

    “Oh man, sorry, I—” I trailed off, not entirely sure how to talk myself out of an enormous, unexpected hard on. I looked down to my cock, surprised with myself. I stood there, unmoving for a handful of seconds, not reacting to coach’s joke, not bothering to make up some excuse. I sort of liked that my cock had betrayed my thoughts. I grabbed it again, traced the outline of my shaft with my fingers and slowly massaged it. I looked up at Coach K, making sure our eyes met.

    His eyes carried over my body, up to my chest, examining my nipples as his eyes darted back and forth, then back to my cock protruding through my football gear, and ultimately resting on my face. The eye contact was intense. His eyes began to communicate deeper thoughts. His eyes looking me over, absorbing me; his breathing growing heavier. His eyes meeting mine. Coach K was not only undisturbed by my arousal, he was inviting more of it.

    He bobbed his eyebrows and exhaled sharply, then let out a soft, “Well, fuck.” He slowly rose out of his chair, navigated his desk which was between us, passed me, and closed his office door. There were no windows, no other players had arrived, nor would they for some time. The assistant coach was prepping equipment on the field and would be occupied until game time. We were completely alone.

    He approached me and I could hear his baritone breathing. I turned to survey him. I noticed his shorts tightening with a boner of his own.

    “You have an incredible body,” he said matter-of-factly.

    My eyes met his, both of us standing inches apart. I reached to my chest and started massaging my nipple. My left had still resting on my stiff cock, massaging the tip. I could feel dampness where my pre-cum had started to leak out.

    Part 3

    Speaking wasn’t my forte. Nor was being sexually forward. My own boldness shocked me. Coach K’s eagerness embolden me further.

    At this point coach was massaging his own hard cock packed tightly beneath his shorts. He looked down at his hand as it rubbed over the large mass where his shaft was, then lifted his eyes to look at my bulge.

    We made eye contact again as we rubbed ourselves, both uncertain of what would happen next.
    Finally, I moved toward him, our noses nearly touching. We were virtually the same height, me standing slightly taller. His breathing deepened, his eyes full of an intensity I hadn’t seen before. I bent down slightly and touched my lips to his. I kissed him slowly. He kissed back. I paused, remaining close. “Should I keep going?” I asked.

    “Fuck yes,” he said, his warm breath billowing onto my lips.

    I moved my mouth to his again, more aggressively this time, parting his lips with my tongue, feeling the flesh inside his mouth. The whiskers of his thick, white beard poked at my smoothly shaved face. I reached up and grabbed a tuft of his beard with my right hand. It was dense and dry, and as I rubbed it I unlocked the scent of musk and citrus oil.

    As my tongue worked its way around coach’s mouth I grabbed his beard harder, push my fingers deep into the foliage, moving my hand slowly along his jaw, finding my way around the back of his head, holding him steady.

    After a moment of rooting around in coach’s mouth I retreated, holding his strong neck in my hand, still rubbing my cock with the other. I looked at him, my mouth wet with his saliva. His icy blue eyes were in awe. He was speechless, but there was a needy eagerness in his expression. I directed both of my hands to his nipples, each protruding sharply from beneath the fabric of his coach’s jersey. He let go an exasperated sigh as I pinched them. Despite their chubbiness and rotund size, his pecs were amazingly firm. He moaned as I pinched and rubbed his nipples more aggressively. He reached his hands to my chest and began to reciprocate. He took my bare nipples between his large, rough fingers and squeezed and pinched them. The weathered skin of his hands was like sandpaper, forcing my nipples to solidify even harder.

    I reached down past his belly to the mound in his shorts. His cock. His balls. Each hard but fleshy-soft beneath the tightly stretched fabric. I could feel his shaft. A good size. Not the longest, far shorter than my own at full mast, but much thicker. I massaged his cock and he moaned louder.

    After several seconds he let go of my chest and stood in still concentration as I continued to rub his cock progressively harder. He closed his eyes, his breathing passionate and pronounced.
    I took the opportunity to lift his shirt over his belly with my free hand. The white and gray fur densest near the center, his peach skin hardly visible beneath. I let go of his cock and used both hands to lift his shirt over his chest. A snowy forest of white and gray hair, massive pink nipples the size of thimbles. My chest by comparison was large and full but far leaner, our nipples both pale pink but mine much more compact, my chest hair was as dark as the short cropped hair on my head and not nearly as plentiful.

    I bent down and licked his left nipple. It was firm, the wiry white chest hair prickling my tongue. I licked it back and forth aggressively. He seemed to convulse slightly, and let out an impassioned moan. I backed off, unsure of his reaction. I looked to his face for an assessment.

    “Oh, bud, don’t stop,” he exclaimed in a whisper, his deep grandfather voice full of desire now.
    Reassured, I returned to his chest. This time tonguing his other nipple, then back again to the first. I could feel them growing harder, the areola around them bristling and toughening as the air hit my saliva trail and my tongue worked them over. He moaned more intensely. After a minute, I retreated, this time confident with my contribution.

    We stood motionless for a few moments, both of arms resting at our sides, until he timidly bent forward. This time finding my lips with his lips. He was a tender kisser. Soft. Subtle. Shy. But the size of his features felt stimulating on my body. His large, dry lips and piles of whiskers titillated me. His large, rough hands running over the smooth skin of my torso, caressing my chest. Gripping my wide shoulders, seemingly assessing my muscle mass. His large, hard belly making contact with my own stomach as he drew closer. He rubbed his tongue softly over my chest, finding my nipples, lingering on them, accidentally tickling them with his beard.

    After a couple minutes of exploring my body with his hands and mouth he righted himself, face-to-face again. Sheepishly, somewhat reluctantly, he said, “I want you inside me.” He spoke as if unsure what my reaction would be.

    Part 4

    In something approaching a primal, instinctive maneuver I quickly, almost violently grabbed his shorts and yanked them down. His chubby, muscular thighs jiggled. His beer can cock bobbed up and down, fully exposed to my gaze. Of course he didn’t wear underwear, that would explain how my eyes always found his cock and balls wherever he went.

    My hands worked his shaft for a moment and then I reached around to his ass. It was the beefiest ass I’d ever felt. It was fat but firm with decades of muscle growth beneath layers of chub. It was smooth, unlike the rest of his furry body, the skin soft and taught.

    Standing roughly face-to-face I then pulled down my own shorts. But I had on a jock strap, my cock fully contained inside. I slowly pulled down the jock to revel my large, erect shaft. Pre-cum erupted slowly, oozing out of the tip as my cock bobbed in the open air of coach’s office. He stood motionless, quiet. His eyes running over my body, and mine running over his. He reached out and grabbed my dick, slowly jerking it. He looked to my eyes as he tugged, seeking approval. I closed my eyes and leaned my pelvis forward, as if urging him to pull harder. He complied and I made sure my face communicated my approval.

    After a minute or so I moved my whole body closer, his hand dropping away from my cock. I wrapped my arms around him, grinding my body against his. Our cocks moved across our bodies, our volcanic pre-cum sticking to each other’s bare thighs. I moved my hands over his ass, cupping and gripping his cheeks as best I could from this angle, although, despite my massive wingspan, his gut made the action difficult.

    I guided him around, moving his large frame so that he faced his desk. Now I had a full view of his impressive, thick ass. It was divine. Perfectly bulbous and firm. Better than any of the player’s asses I’d seen and lusted about in the showers. Instinctively, without being instructed, coach leaned onto his desk. His butt cheeks naturally parted slightly, bearing a glimpse of a luscious looking asshole. I moved in closer, taking my hand and moving my cock over his ass cheeks and down his crack. I rubbed my cock head on his asshole, my pre-cum sticking to the puckered skin around the hole. I moved my body closer, my football shorts and jock now wrapped around my ankles. I spit saliva from my mouth onto my shaft and pushed the head of my dick into Coach K’s hole.

    I couldn’t believe how tight it was. I struggle closer, forcing my shaft deeper inside. He was so tight. I’d fucked virgin pussy that wasn’t as tight as this. I moved my body forward, struggling my dick deeper inside his ass. He winced and grimace, moaning louder the deeper I went.

    I began fucking Coach K hard. He wriggled, shifted, and winced. Sometimes I wondered if he was in too much pain but he kept softly reassuring me to continue, with hushed exclamations like, “Yes,” “Fuck yeah,” and, “Dylan, don’t stop,” once again surprising me with my own name.

    As I fucked him the muscles in his back rippled beneath the husky layers of chub. He’d occasionally turn his head to the side, sneaking a peripheral view of me fucking him, his face twisted into fits of pleasure.

    Several minutes in and I could feel myself rounding the homestretch to climax. My eyes made their way to the wall in front of me where there was a framed picture of Coach and Mrs. K taken during their 25th wedding anniversary some years ago. Coach was wearing a tightly fitted suit, his thick build filling it up and bulging out in flattering places. He was an attractive man. I hadn’t really studied his face before, but beneath the large beard and aged complexion was a beautiful, masculine face and devastating, baby blue eyes.

    The feeling of his asshole on my cock was transcendental. I’d fantasized about fucking him in the past but I couldn’t have anticipated the intensity of this sensation. I’d fucked numerous women before, and even a couple men my age, but nothing compared to this. The size of him. His strength. His power. The weight of his ass as I rammed him, the force of his body settling back on my lap as I thrust back and forth, plowing forward and back, again and again.

    Then I heard him yelp and exclaim in a tone much above a whisper, “Oh! Oooohh!” I slowed my rhythm to interpreret what was happening. “No, don’t stop!” he said rapidly. Then I realized he was pawing at his cock. I stretched back, simultaneously revving up my thrusts once again, but maneuvering myself so I could see the commotion below me: a steady stream of thick, white cum burst out of his fat shaft and down the back side of his desk. I’d made my coach orgasm.

    His panting was extreme now, his sighs peaking along with the intensity of his orgasm and the rhythm of my fucking. Invigorated by his cum I fucked him with a speed and ferocity I hadn’t up to that point. His massive frame shuddering and wobbling on the desk. Papers and pens flopping to the ground. The clap of my thighs on his sweaty ass. The jiggle of his love handles as i gripped the sides of him for leverage.

    Until finally, release. My orgasm was intense and long. I could feel my cream burst into him. The initial shot of cum must’ve been epic, the pulse of my cock throbbing deep inside his ass. I let out my first intense cry of ecstasy. I collapsed onto coach’s back, continuing the rhythmic fucking as I came. I caressed and nuzzled his enormous, sweaty frame, my cock continuing to pulse, my cum continuing to fill him from the inside. He gyrated his ass, his thick cheeks flexing eagerly as I sighed and moaned. “That’s it,” he reassured me, “yes. Yes,” his voice calm and sweet.

    I thrust into him a dozen more times, my cock pumping and throbbing, but slowing now. I must have squirted into him a couple dozen times. My orgasms had always been huge events, dropping massive loads of cum each time, but this was different. This time I was nutting inside Coach K.

    I rested on his back, my dick still submerged in his ass, my orgasm fully resolved, in a state of indescribable euphoria and peace, when, an unknown amount of time later, he jiggled a little bit and asked, “Okay, bud?” As if inquiring about our next step.

    I stood up, slowly pulling my semi-erect shaft from his creamy asshole, some of my cum dribbling out after it like the slow popping of a cork. I backed up and observed coach still hunched over, his cum having dripped down the desk and pooled on the floor. The bottoms of my socks were soggy with his jizz. I pulled my jock back on, pulled my football shorts up and all the while watched as my cum slowly trickled out of his hole.

    He shuddered and wobbled and moved his way off the desk and struggled to a standing position. I could see me leaking down his leg as he wrestled with his shirt, pulling it down over his giant tits, and reached to his shorts and slowly pulled them back up, hiding away his now flaccid cock.

    He turned to meet my eyes. We didn’t have to say anything. We had both gotten something we deeply wanted and it was more than we could’ve hoped.

    He grabbed some paper towels and cleaned up his own cum from the floor and desk. “You, ah—” he was struggling for the right words. “You better get ready for the game, P.B., it’s gonna be a tough one today.”

    I was relieved we were back to normal discourse. I nodded and left his office, closing the door behind me. I got ready for the game, the other players slowly trickling into the locker room, each of us going about our regular routines. I chose to leave the cum-soaked socks on. The cool wet on the bottoms of my feet as I slid into my cleats was invigorating. Coach K.

    I wouldn’t see him again until the team assembled on the field that day. Unsurprisingly his shorts displayed small wet spots around his ass. He hadn’t bothered to clean me out of him. No one else probably noticed or would’ve thought twice if they had seen these spots, but I knew it was my cum.

    As I played the game that day I could feel cool jizz on my feet, constantly reminding me of what we’d done. And at halftime, during our huddle, I once again made eye contact with my coach, sweat dripping down my face, through my helmet to my jersey. He watched me attentively, drinking me in. And I knew—we both knew—a massive load of my semen was inside him.

  • Down at the Beach

    After returning to the beach house after a rough session with the Masters, I stumbled home with liquified Crisco and cum uncontrollably dripping from my gaping manhole. I had worn a tank top and short shorts so there was no hiding what I’d been up to for the past few hours. My friends thought I’d be embarrassed to return back in such a state, but I was proud to be used so heavily by the two dominant men, I didn’t care what they thought of me.

    After expelling what I could and showering, I knew I had to call Sir Jace who had been visiting his family. I called:

    “What do you have to say, boy”? Sir Jace answered.

    “Sir, are you mad with me”?

    “Boy, I granted permission, didn’t I?. It’s my collar and cage you wear. You know that and I know that. No matter who fucks your ass, I own it. We’re good”.

    “Thank you, Sir. Yes, you are my Keyholder.”

    “See you in a couple of days, boy”

    And then silence as he hung up on me. As I reflected on this discussion, I fell into a deep sleep. I even missed dinner. It was early evening when I awoke, and the sun was already down.

    It was to be my last night at the beach as I’d have to head back to the city in the morning. As I lay there, I decided one more cock was needed. Left to my own devices, when I have some time to myself, my instinct is to service needy cocks. It must be written somewhere in the faggot manifesto. Besides, wearing that cage leaves me in a constant state of horniness.

    So I clicked on a few hook-up apps to see what I could find. Much to my surprise, there was the profile of one of my beach house mates…a friend of a friend. His profile was clearly advertising his was looking, a top, with 8”. He was 43, 5’ 10”, 175, 32” waist, athletic hairy chested, short cropped beard, brown hair and eyes. I’d found him attractive when I was introduced.

    Moments after checking out his profile he sent me a “wink”, followed by, “you looking, too”? I said “of course”. He replied, “you’ve been busy all weekend from what I can tell. You want another load”?  I replied, “yes. Give me a few min”

    He was sharing a bedroom with my friend who was hanging out in the tv room watching a movie. This guy had excused himself to lay down for awhile. Their bedroom was across the hall from mine, which I had to myself.

    I freshened up and put on a clean black Papi jockstrap I had bought several years ago.it was so skimpy, the cage exposed itself from the sides of the pouch. Just after placing it on me, there was a soft knock at the door. I opened it, and there he was, in boxers, looking rather hot.

    We played tongue hockey for several heated minutes before releasing from the kiss. “Damn” he said, “gonna be hard to keep quiet. I wanna rail you into the mattress.”. I didn’t say anything, I dropped to my knees and took his fully hard 8 x 6 meat into my mouth. “Oh FUCK”he cried out and he placed both hands on the top of my head guiding my throat down his shaft. His large mushroom head pushed through my throat cavity as I produced a bucket load of saliva to ensure a smooth face fucking. As he did so he began to mutter, “and to think I had this faggot mouth here all weekend” he sounded angry with himself or angry with me that I hadn’t offered?

    The skull fucking lasted only a few more moments. Although we didn’t say it explicitly, it was implied we were not going to inform anyone in the house of this sexual encounter, so we knew it would be brief. I can do brief, as long as it’s hot!

    Pushing me off his cock he quietly screamed, “you almost made me shoot!”, and he yanked down on his plum-sized smooth balls to keep from coming. “Get on that bed and let me see that ass!”. He positioned me so I was on my hands and knees, my ass up near the edge of the bed. “Looks like your ass was recently beaten”. And he smacked it as hard as he could without being too loud as it would cause attention. I winced, but I did not tell him to stop.

    “You like it rough then, don’t you, faggot”. And a few more smacks to the buttocks followed. Then he pulled my ass globes apart. “Holy shit, faggot, that hole is gaping. Those pussy lips are swollen. Just how much dick did you take this weekend?”. I didn’t respond and was hesitant to tell him I had taken fists,  but I did react when he dove into my crack with his tongue. That scruffy beard scratching my skin. I began to coo, “ohhhh yes. Oohhh fuck. Ohhhh fuck”.

    He slobbered into my hole before it all came to a halt. His hand grabbing my caged cock. “What the fuck is this”?  I was surprised it took him so long to notice something I thought was so obvious. I spoke for the first time. “It’s a cock cage”. “What a kinky motherfucker you are. Where’s the key?” I replied,”My Keyholder, Sir Jace holds it”. He smacked my ass again, “well, I’m gonna pound out  that ass. I’m not interested in your useless dick anyway”.

    Then he stood up, spit into my crack and onto his cock and that mushroom head pushed inside my swollen pussy, and with a gaping hole, easily found bottom. After the fisting I’d taken earlier that afternoon, my hole hadn’t had time to return to normal. “You fucking slut,  Your hole is loose. You open this hole for anyone you faggot”? The more verbally abusive he became the harder he slammed inside me.

    Eventually, he pushed me onto my stomach, locking my wrists in the small of my back and hurled more compliments (or insults, to some) at me. “I’ve never been inside a true faggot hole like this before. How many cocks did you take, faggot?”,  I don’t think he was truly expecting an answer he was making a point. I was biting down on the mattress to muffle myself. “I’m gonna load this ass up, fucking whore. I bet my cum won’t even stay up there this pussy is so loose. Fuck yeah faggot, take my dick. That’s it faggot don’t move. Here it comes faggot”.

    As he held his cock inside me, unloading. I couldn’t perform my usual move of tightening my sphincter to milk out all the cum. He wasn’t lying, my asshole was wrecked. I could barely feel him inside me and he was pretty huge. He released my wrists, pulled out, smacked my ass, “see you downstairs, slut”. And he let himself out after grabbing his boxers. A few minutes later I heard heavy footsteps heading downstairs.

    I stood up and ran to the shower. He was right, that cum load fell right out of me. It seemed massive and I was sorry I couldn’t keep it inside of me longer. After showering, I put on some sweats and t-shirt and found the guys still watching movies. And there was my fucker (I couldn’t recall his name) sitting with them. He shot a quick glance and a wink at me. That would be the only acknowledgement  of our rendezvous throughout the evening.

    The next morning, after loading my things into the car, I returned to say farewell to the guys. Hugs were exchanged and when I went to hug this guy he whispered in my ear,”that was fun faggot. Find me online”. I don’t think anyone heard him, but who cares?

  • Just Say it Before It’s Too late

    I had taken my mouth off Diego’s huge shaft of ebony cock for an instant to be replaced by Jhon’ s hungry mouth. He had just finished getting fucked by Diego which lasted for more than 15 minutes of groans from both. During their fuck, I heard Jhon come twice to finally end with both coming at the same time. Their shouts of pleasure were abruptly cut off and I surmised they were kissing lost in the moment of ectasy. I heard Diego say ” Did you feel my cock pulsing within your ass spewing all my seed within you.” Both were glistening with the sweat from such a long fuck.

    Before Jhon would complain to me that Diego would shoot his load immediately after entering his tight ass. I guess that having his cock within his brother was too much for him. That’s why I would suck Diego off first so he wouldn’t come so fast when he fucked my lover’s ass. This did the trick, now Diego could last and give his brother, Jhon the fuck he deserved.

    I was kind of surprised that he had interrupted Diego’s blowjob by me but was glad he felt comfortable enough now to join in. I watched intently as Jhon started to suck his brother’s cock and then I started to suck his cock. I noticed he had the foil of a condom torn open evidently hoping to get fucked again by his brother, but it was not to be because seconds after taking my place giving Diego head , Diego shouted he was going to shoot his load. I watched as my lover’s cheeks swelled outward being filled with so much cum. This made Jhon come in my mouth which I eagerly swallowed.. After capturing Diego’s entire load.

    As I finished with Jhon’s cock, I smiled at my lover’s chipmunked cheeks, I was ready to share Diego’s essence. As our lips touched, my mouth filled with Diego’s fresh cream. Diego sat back pleased with the fuck and blowjob. After Diego left my lover asked me if I had feelings for Diego and I said, ” Absolutely not.” I asked why he asked this question and he said he noticed both of us were caressing each other while I was sucking his cock. Maybe I was starting to see the rearing head of jealosy.

    Maybe I should had asked whether my lover had more than brotherly feelings for his brother, Diego. What would have been his answer?

  • Good morning, Sunshine

    It’s a rare occasion that I see a good-looking man on my morning walk.

    They typically don’t show up until later in the morning, when the millennial boys show up to play disc golf at the park. But once ever so often I will run across a fine, strapping young man out for a morning jog or taking the family pooch for a walk.

    They sometimes regard me with suspicion, as if they can hear my impure thoughts. And those thoughts are impure as I’m stripping them with my eyes, admiring those fine, flat stomachs, firm pecs, glistening glutes and massive clubs swinging between their legs. In my mind’s eye I beg them to stop and take off their clothes, then I fall to my knees and devour them right there, in front of God and country.

    I suppose it’s a good thing I keep those thoughts to myself.

    One such morning I had just arrived at the park and was steeling myself for a long, three-mile walk. I say “steeling” because summers are hot and humid where I live. Getting out of the air-conditioned car to enter the steam bath of an August morning is almost unbearable. But I did it, and after a few minutes my lungs had adjusted to breathing 90 percent water, heh heh.

    The park where I walk is more of a nature park than the grassy greenspaces you think of when you hear the word “park.” It offers patches of woodlands and small watercourses, all transected by a wide “fitness path” used by walkers, joggers, skaters and bicyclists. The path is a mile and a half long and I usually do two laps.

    Only a few minutes into my walk I noticed a jogger on the other side of the park heading in my direction. It was a he/him. Judging by the color of his hair – rather the lack of gray – I decided he was a younger man. His body was not athletic; in fact, he had a bit of girth around his waist – too many craft brews watching the game on Saturdays, I surmised. But as he drew closer I realized he was damn fine. He had that boy-next-door look with close-cropped, dark brown hair, a bit of acne scarring one cheek, but a friendly, smiling face. He was wearing an Air Force T-shirt and I surmised he was an airman, maybe a year or two from becoming a tech sergeant.

    As he passed I checked out his ass and I was not disappointed. I’m not one of those guys who falls for the perfect, workout-shaped ass. I like the imperfections of real men, and this guy’s ass was … oh, what’s the word? … dumpy. Big, sloppy glutes that I just knew were covered in hair and at this moment, due to the condition of the rest of his body, soaked with sweat. All of it was revealed by his shimmery nylon basketball shorts, almost down to his knees. They rode the contours of his meaty ass and even worked their way into his crack, giving me more than just a snapshot of what lay underneath.

    Air Force man jogged past me two more times that morning and then he disappeared. I was disappointed but I didn’t think much of it – often, people show up for their morning runs and then walk or ride a bike back home. I continued on my way, having completed a big chunk of my second lap around the trail.

    I was approaching a spot on the trail I call “the grotto” when my luck for the day turned from average to excellent.

    The grotto is a tree-lined patch of trail that runs along one of the watercourses. This segment of the park had once been a swamp populated by a dense forest of cypress trees. Flooding problems compelled the city to create the watercourses so the swamps would drain and nearby houses wouldn’t flood during a persistent rain. The cypress trees were gone but now pine trees, oaks and Chinese tallow had taken their place and were growing in thick profusion. Little sunlight penetrated the canopy, making for a cool, dark respite along the trail that, for the most part, was sunny and dry. Because the ground could be mucky, work crews didn’t bring their mowers into this location and much of the underbrush remained. It reminded me of locales in the “Lord of the Rings” movies, which is why I called it “the grotto.”

    As I was traversing the grotto and enjoying the cool dark of the shade, I began to notice a peculiar silence. Usually the place is alive with the sound of birds chirping and squirrels fussing at passersby, but today it was quiet and that piqued my curiosity. I stopped and scanned the woods for anything out of place, but nothing seemed awry. Sometimes the presence of a larger animal could scare away the birds and send the squirrels into the high branches.

    Just as I had decided it was all in my imagination, I caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.

    I turned back and stared hard. At first I didn’t notice anything, but then I saw it – a darker shape against the underbrush, and a hint of motion, a kind of repetitive, up and down movement. What was that? It was large, whatever it was, and squatting on the ground. Could it be a bear? We do have bears in these parts, though I had never seen one in the park.

    This is the kind of setup that leads to Bigfoot encounters, I joked to myself. But I got out my phone, activated the camera and selected “video.” If there was some kind of bear or coyote or something in that dense underbrush, I could shoot a video and post it to my YouTube channel. It might get a million views.

    There was a path leading through the damp woods and I took it, careful not to step on any twigs or other items that would make noise and possibly alert my quarry. As I drew closer, my phone held out in front of me as if it were a shield, I could see the bank of one of the watercourses, a clearing of sorts, and then … oh my, and then. …

    It was not a bear or a coyote. It was a man.

    Air Force man.

    And he had those slinky shorts pulled down and his piece pulled out.

    Oh, oh my.

    It was just as the most salacious corner of my imagination had pictured it, thick as a fencepost, at least 7, maybe 8 inches long, and hard as the afore-mentioned fence post. It had a great big knob at the end that was flared and shiny with lubricant and glowing like an emergency beacon. His balls were pushed up by the waistband of his shorts, and they stood out like ostrich eggs – obviously they weren’t that big, but goddamn they were huge, and furry, and they hung over his shorts like some kind of obscene fruit. He was jacking his cock furiously, his hand going up and down on the shaft so hard that if it had been a stick, it might have caught fire from the friction.

    I zoomed the video on my phone and made sure I had his entire body in frame. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as if he were about to say something but had paused to consider his words, and that slightly paunchy belly was jiggling in rhythm with the motion of his fist. He was moving in a subtle thrusting motion, and I wondered who, in his imagination, he was fucking? Was it that young lady with the big titties he met at the bar last night? Or was it Eric, another airman who worked on the flightline with him at the base? My obvious preference would have been me, and as I considered that prospect, my mind composing pictures of Air Force man looming above me as I lay on my back, my legs spread, his giant sausage filling me as his sweat dripped on my face and his breath, reeking of coffee and maybe a cigarette, filling my nose, I felt my dick hardening and growing longer in synchronization with his thrusts.

    He ramped up his groin motions and began to arch his back. I could see his muscles thrumming with anticipation and I knew what was happening – that fire burning at the base of his skull was about to become a conflagration. The cascade of ecstasy would begin, burning down his nerves like a fuse having been lit to explode at the bomb of his cock.

    And that is exactly what happened.

    He gave a mighty heave and I thought the bulb at the end of his dick shaft had blown up – a pearlescent string of jizz blew out of his cock and arced in the sunlight to splash into the dark waters of the creek. Another string jetted from his cock and I swore I could hear it as it erupted and splashed into the sluggish water. Then another – the boy had been consumed by need and now he had expended that need. I checked my phone screen and everything was perfect. I knew I would be watching this video time and time again.

    His muscular contractions subsided into a patter of dripping as he clung fiercely to his cock, strangling every drop of jizz from it until nothing was left to ejaculate. His head titled forward as if in a hinge and sighed so loudly I think anybody passing by on the trail at that moment could have heard him. The fencepost between his legs began to wilt. A single drop of sperm clung to the tip and hung down, a glowing drop of passion illuminated by the morning sun. It fell just as he pulled up his shorts, concealing those luscious egg-shaped testicles and that equally tasty penis. God, how I wished I could have been there to receive his gift of love, have it splash across my face, into my mouth, and run down my chin to coat my chest. I might have had a sympathy ejaculation.

    I shut off the video, turned off the phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Then, it was time for me to retrace my steps – quietly – back to the walking path and resume my journey. Walking was difficult – I couldn’t hide the Viagra-quality erection in my shorts.

    A few minutes later he jogged past me once more. Maybe it was my imagination but I noticed a lack of tension in his expression. He was moving easily, almost lazily, as he got in his laps. I thought I could see the shape of his flaccid penis through those silky shorts, bouncing against the cool fabric.

    I thought I could see a wet spot.

    And then it was time to go home and watch what the camera had caught.

    And relieve my own tension.

    Off I’d go, into the wild blue yonder!


    My new book “Love Thyself” has just been published as an ebook on Amazon. It contains 10 stories about men who have discovered the art of self pleasure, plus a bonus entry: my personal voyage of discovery! You can find it at Amazon.

  • All Eyes Are on Me

    All Eyes Are on Me 

    For Naughty Eric. The inspiration.

    My head is down. Bent. My face and all my attention focused on my phone. As it is in my hands. But there is something stirred in my shorts. It is alive. Pulsating. Each heartbeat feeds…sending another flow of hot red life-sustaining blood into my ever-elongating appendage. Into my penis. Into my dick. Into my cock. I prefer to use of the word, cock. It is more manly. And the implication of it speaks of what gloriously dangles betwixt my two hairy legs. And of other men, too.

    I am reading another one of Naughty Eric’s stories on GayDemon. I started reading his stories before I got out of my truck and entered the hectic atmosphere of the grocery store, at this early morning hour. I should have finished its reading before I exited my truck. But I had placed myself into this rush. Into this hurried pace. But I just could not put it down. And neither could my cock. I move it from one side-to-the-other. I even reached inside my loose fitted shorts and felt the heat radiating from my cock among the dense furry bush that is there, but my hand has only made me grow harder. Stiffer. But my mighty seven inches is at its full mast. But my hand always causes this when it nears my throbbing cock.

    I had managed to tame the wild beast before I got out of my truck and walked into the store. I had not shot my creamy load, but I had thoughts of cuddly tabby kittens and prancing unicorns to stifle the raging animal in my shorts. But I soon found another story on the GayDemon site by Naughty Eric and began reading it as I walked around the crowded store.

    My hard-on has returned. Its dominance gets notable reactions from the many around as I lug the shopping cart in front of it. All eyes are on me. But my hard-on is unmistakable. I cannot hide it. Not that I could. Not that I would want to, either. I am proud of having possession of it.

    It is among one of these many admirers. Of those that are leering. Of those that do, one looks me in the eyes in a prolonged glance. And they are of the deepest blue in their hue. I like a man’s eyes. I do. His dark bearded face and his rugged masculinity does not hurt in this handsomeness either. This Bearded Man. Along with his attractive towering height.

    I motioned towards the public restroom near where we are with a slight tilt of my head. He nods. And understands. Good.

    I am the first to enter. And the Bearded Man follows behind me. In the same hectic of a rush as I had been.

    “I am…” I say. But he interrupts me. Speedily. Before I can utter another word. “No names. Please. There is not a need for names to be shared between us.”

    “Okay.” I tell myself. I have not done this sort of thing in ages. So. I am rusty in what I should be doing. What I should say. And how I should do it.

    The large bathroom stall is open. We storm into the room with the room. After my introductory attempt. And both of us locked into a rather intimate and passionate embrace. Kisses between us happen in a flurry.

    My hand goes to his shirt. I unbutton one. Then another of the many buttons on his shirt. My hand creep inside to cop-a-feel at what I saw peeking there when we locked eyes. And I am not disappointed. I can feel his muscles and his six-pack abs as I rake my fingers over them just above his pronounced bulge.

    “Hairy.” I say. “Good.”

    His hand then goes to my groin. Where the tenting is present. His hand snakes into my shorts and grips tightly around the length of my erection.

    “Whoa! Whoa! A thick one. And long. And a Prince Albert too. I did not expect that.” He says. “But that is good. Real good.”

    He squeezes me. And I feel the seepage escape from my pee-hole beside my golden ring. I feel him smear my juice atop my cockhead while he tugs gently on my golden ring. This sends surges through me of riveting fire. His rough calloused fingers only makes me unbound in my leakage under his perverted sway. He squeezes me. More. And then still more. And tighter at moments.

    “You are wet.” He says. While his fingers stay locked around me. As he spreads more of my cream. “And the ring has made me all the more excited.”

    “It is because of you I am wet.” I say. I sound convincing. Because I am. “I am glad you like my ring.”

    His smile tells me he believes me about the cause of my wetness.

    But what I have told him is a lie. It is from reading Naughty Eric’s masterful prose that has excited me. But he does not need to know the truth behind my raging hard-on. But Naughty Eric does. (It is because of him. His words. That I am hard and expelling so much of my virile liquid.)

    He lowers my shorts from my hips. Gravity takes over as they fall lazily to the floor and cover my size 11 ½ Skechers.

    “Better! And that ring is shiny.” He says in a rough and husky baritone as his grip tightens around my cock.

    In the next instant he stoops, bends, and takes me into his warm wet mouth. He gobbles me up. Letting his tongue play with my metallic hardware. I can barely fit into his mouth. But he manages to get what he can inside his warm oral hole.

    Soon my moans. And groans. Fill the small bathroom. But I do not care as he swallows me. All I can hear are the slobbering sounds as he devours my hardened length.

    He stands. The drool. I can assume. As my juice seeps and his spittle mixes in the corner of his mouth and into his beard.

    “Your turn.” He says. As he turns the whole of his magnificent body. Unbuckling his dirty jeans and presents me with his ass.And in two words he makes his demands known. “FUCK ME!”

    I ram some fingers into my mouth. Grabbing the only available moisture to lube his hairy rimmed ass.

    “FUCK ME!” He says gruffly. Again.

    He wants me. And I want his ass, too.

    A drool of my spittle drips from my mouth and falls downward toward my cock. Some of the spittle misses and lands on the tile floor but enough lands on my cock for me to use.

    “FUCK ME!” He demands in a voice I know which he means since he has already said it two times already.

    I tease my cock at the entrance to his hole. Letting him feel the metal that will find his ‘right’ spot. Swiping my cream-manifested cock and the Prince Albert there across his hairy crevice gets the reaction I want from him.

    “Give it to me!” He demands. “All of it!”

    I jab my cock into his hole. My Prince Albert finds no obstruction as I slid its length all the way inside him. As I am swallowed up by his ass. He pumps my cock of it leaking seed with the force of each of my ramming thrusts.

    “FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!” His volumes rises as I ram him fiercely with my pierced cock. “THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT!”

    I feel as though I have hit his prostate. Fueling the embers of his libido. As I pump him. He is slowly leaking and pooling his juice on the tile beneath out feet.

    Suddenly, the door to the whole bathroom opens. I am buried deep within the Bearded Man. But I do not move. I am still all up inside his tender hole. The both of us remain nearly motionless as we hear the piss of the other man as it hits the porcelain urinal on the other side of the partition which is within inches from our halted position. His piss stream is strong. The man finishes and hits the lever as the flush echoes throughout the small bathroom where the three of us are. And then he washes his hands and leaves. The shutting of the outside door once again tells us we can continue. With that I can resume our furious fucking.

    I remained hard in his hole. As the man pissed. I grew harder at the thrill of the other stranger in the bathroom excited me. Of the possibility of the two of us being caught.

    “You may need to hurry.” Mr. Bearded-Man says as I ram away at his hole. “I want you to FUCK ME unlike you have ever FUCKED another man, before. I want it ROUGH! ROUGH!”

    I do not need much encouragement from him, but I take his words to heart and jab my pierced cock into his hole with such force as I have never done so to another man’s deep hairy hole.

    I can feel the tension mounting. The cum rising like an eruption from my balls. I stifle my usual scream as the sap rises. And then I unload. As I pound time after time once my spunk has been unleashed inside the Bearded Man.

    “We best get a move on.” Bearded Man says as he pulls up his pants while my seed swirls around deep inside him. “Get those shorts up. We may have visitors soon. Real soon.”

    I yank up my shorts to cover my deflating cock.

    “Get out!” Bearded Man says as he practically shoves me out of the stall.

    I lean towards the sink and act as if I have just finished the washing of my hands.

    And at this moment the store manager enters the bathroom from the outside door. While I exit. Bearded Man flushes the toilet as I hastily depart.

    It was a close call.

    But an excited and unexpectant tryst gets the blood moving through the fiery veins. My wife has been unable to stir me as the Bearded Man did.