Category: Uncategorized

  • My brother Chris

    Author’s notes: everybody in this story is of legal age.


    Brotherly Anal Christmas 

    I woke up on Thursday morning and slowly walked to Chris’ bed. He was awake, lazily yawning around. The alarm clock was set to 7:00 a.m., a bit weird, we didn’t have school on holidays and I was unimaginable to have any responsibilities on Christmas morning.

    Lucky me, I was already eighteen and I had been anxiously waiting for this! There was no time to lose when I walked to my brother’s room.

    My pajamas were taken off by my own hands once I entered it. It was only some blue shorts and a t-shirt after all. It took me no time to push Chris’ blanket and sit over my big brother’s crotch. He smiled while moving his hands to my hips, lowering them as he started removing my boxers. I upped my ass in the air helping him in. His cock was getting hard under my butt. I spread my ass cheeks to lay my naked buttcrack over his bulge still covered by his shorts. 

    Even though we didn’t have any anal intercourse yet, we played with my asshole a lot. We had already inserted fingers, phallic objects, dildo shaped toys and even his whole hand went in quite deep.

    I may be just eighteen, but the stuffing off my hole began early. I discovered that Chris, my own older brother, enjoyed to really open me wide and deep and I really liked every part of being anally stretched over my limits. We had been doing this for years since we innocently went on pranking each other, getting naked and just appreciating what we had to offer. It was just natural for me to love anal activities and for him to help me with it.

    Chris had volunteered to support me and really widen my own anal cavity! I always paid for his assistance by sucking on his cock and kissing him, he even sucked mine too! We both loved to kiss with our mouths filled with warm sperm and to play with our dicks could be very fun too!

    At this point our cocks were a little too big even for teens. I hit my eighteens and Chris was nineteen. I mean I was almost seven inches long, though a little thin in my shaft. Chris was already a bit more than eight inches long and very thick. At school we were clearly the biggest cocks around, they even got to nickname us the donkey brothers after we had a public erection in the locker room shower. It was shameful, but we just knew they were mostly envious of us; especially of Chris since he was so enormous.

    This reminded me of his hairs. I was also almost hairless all over, just some light hair was over my cock, balls, legs and ass. Chris had his hairy areas. His legs had hair, the same for his ass, but it was just a bit of sexy fuzzy thin hairs. He had light facial hair and some hair on his torso and lean chest which always got me erect when I caressed them.

    My mind unfocused from these thoughts when his hands invaded my butt crack. He started rubbing his fingers over my sweet reddish anus. I moaned, my hole reflexively twitched around his fingertips.

    Chris smiled and started to lift his torso, his taller body made it to a position where I was sitting on his lap, face to face with him. My cock started rubbing against his abs still covered by the pajama’s tank top. I felt the hot precum coming out of me. 

    He scooped some using his fingers, Chris licked the precum and put his digits back at my hole. Those slippery fingers were now entering my butthole. They slid in easily, one middle finger from each hand started to move around. My brother bent his face a bit to whisper in my ears.

    “I’m so lucky to wake up like this. Your slutty asshole all over me.” His fingers started to move apart creating some distance. I still had some type of “virginity”, a real cock had never been inside me, but the experience in the anal stretching ways had been developed from all these years of brotherly banging my hole.

    We already loved making it gape as wide as we could and I even prolapsed for his, and my own, delight. Chris was so very happy the day I managed to produce a rosebud a couple years ago so we both decided to focus on prolapse training last year. For some reason, we didn’t think about penetrating my anus with his cock. We just stretched, fisted, inserted objects and punched my butthole.

    Perhaps it was our way to pretend we weren’t an incestuous high school couple? Maybe it made us nervous because that would confirm that we really wanted to belong together like two gay perverts having a lot of incestuous love making.

    Right now, Chris didn’t care… I didn’t care. He was stretching me out to make it gape wide. He put one more finger from each hand inside. Now it was four fingers, both index and middle finger fondling my sphincter and pressuring my anal rim like hooks to force my anus to open up. He cupped my soft wide butt cheeks to create a bit more distance opening my hole. I felt my outer sphincter puffing up, my rectum walls jumping and forming a little red rosebud… I was already turning inside out for my brother. The pressuring of my cavity alongside my excitement made me bloom.

    “I just love your big butt my happy boy. Wonder what you want as a gift…” Chris enthusiastically whispered. 

    “I… I wish I could feel your cock inside me”. I finally answered, smirking in pleasure. I was younger and shorter, my body was a bit more muscly and fuller than Chris’ though. We had been hitting the gym since I was fifteen and we already did sports before. He, however, was this taller, leaner blonde hairier boy while I was a more muscular brunette.

    He suddenly started to kiss me, making me snap out of the day dreaming about our bodies. The hot tongue invaded my mouth, Chris kneaded my tongue. I answered back by softly biting his lips, letting him control the pace right now. His fingers were stretching me to the max point and beyond, I was in awe feeling my hole aching under the pressure. Chris knew I loved feeling it, the sensation of my asshole breaking and prolapsing.

    He took his face away from mine, we had wet lips and some saliva ran down to my chin. Chris gave me a big horny smile.

    “It’s about time… Let’s do it! But first, let me see your hole bro. I want to see how big it is now”. I straddled against his crotch, his fingers left my pink, over stretched eighteen year old anus. Looking down there, there was a really wet spot on his shirt and a puddle on his shorts. We had been precumming a lot lately.

    He moved around removing his shirt. His abs were lean and defined, fuzzy blond hair covering them. The hairy chest on display turned me on. 

    Then, he started pushing his shorts and underwear down, I helped him to take it to his feet and to take it off. His penis was some of the greatest views. We had both cut cocks. He had a hairy crotch, the big red penis head bobbed up and down. It was so thick I couldn’t close my hand around it. I licked his head, but there was a rush to show him my hole. That blowjob could wait a bit, I had already sucked on his beautiful veiny cock so many times. It was a very special time to me whenever I got to suck his dick and he fingered my hole.

    Getting to stand over him I opened my silky cushions pointing them towards his dick. 

    My fingers repeated the same movement he had done earlier. I could feel how much his bigger fingers had stretched me out, my middle and index fingers entered my puffy anal ring easily. I parted it around presenting my almost two inches diameter gaping anus. Again, I pushed out letting my hole fall inside out, exposing my blooming rectum walls to my own brother.

    “Holy shit. Bro, your hole is incredible. Fucking sexy!” Chris awed with the sight. I looked down to see his penis spurting precum, he was dripping all over his slightly hairy balls to my teen prolapsing butthole, to his lil bro!

    There was no waste of time, as soon as he closed his lips, he quickly moved around making his way to my ass. I could feel the warm tongue licking my anal petals, worshipping my inside out rectum folds. He was getting inside, easily pushing my pinkish anal flower back in. His jaw opened up, Chris wanted to make his tongue go in as deep as possible. 

    That tongue moved around making its way to my horny walls. I could feel my guts pulsing. It was an incredible feeling, having my bigger brother licking so deep inside me, eagerly hitting my sensitive rectum. I clenched and relaxed reflexively, he kept munching on my ass for a few minutes while kneading my asscheeks.

    Chris was a genuine ass and anal lover, letting him rim me so deeply on Christmas was proof that he enjoyed worshipping me. He did it for all these years even when we were just kids! My cock was leaking pre all over him who was laying almost directly under me. 

    “Sit down, I want to put my precum inside you.” He wanted to stuff me with it and I obeyed.

    Chris was sitting down, his legs started to open up a bit. I moved towards his crotch again, now lowering down my hips to his lap when I sat down. His cock took over my butt crack, it slid up and down. I realized how wet we both were, my hole and his cock. 

    “Open it just like before.” He sweetly asked while smiling as I looked back. My fingers were parting the reddish anus once again. He moved a bit, allowing his spear head to be pointed right at my entrance. I needed to fart, there was so much air getting inside. 

    “Can I fart Chris? There’s a lot inside now…” He just kept his horny smirk.

    “Of course you can, you can do anything to me bro. You know I love you and your hole no matter what…” I loved that freedom we had, if anything happened I was sure I was safe with Chris.

    My hole was farting, the hot insides were quivering around and wet, low splashes sounds were made. Chris’ precum was leaking around me as I farted out. I didn’t know at the time, but I have a natural skill at controlling my hole’s muscles.

    When I pushed it really hard to fart, some of my rectum meat lowered down, it made its way out of my swelled up asslips again, my prolapse was rubbing right against my brother’s dick tip. I bloomed all over his precumming charming huge cock.

    “Fuck, Bill I had never seen your hole like this before, your insides are coming out a lot more than the last time!” Chris always wanted me to do it more and more. This last year focusing on forcing my inners out was very good for that, we really loved prolapse training! My asshole meat was sticking out an inch or so. The insides went back to their place and Chris protested.

    “Let me rub my cock on it some more”. I pushed them out again.

    My fingers left my hole, I was using my hands to pull my ass cheeks apart. His wet precum rubbed all over my meaty rose. It felt really hot, his big thick head soaking my eighteen years old prolapsed hole we had broken over the years. He rubbed it faster and faster. We were kind of young and kind of dumb. Chris wanted to fuck my hole, but was a bit insecure to do it right now. We just couldn’t bring ourselves to overcome that incestuous edge.

    “Chris… Just put it in!” I begged spreading myself harder.

    “But, but… It’s your shithole… It’s so wrong…” He kept rubbing himself on my rosebud.

    “We already turned it into my sex hole, just…” I felt him pressing against me while I was speaking.

    “Sorry baby bro, you’re my younger bro, but I wanna fuck you up your dumpy hole so much!”

    Chris slid inside me with his fat eight inches breaking through my rectum! I had already had big things in my colon, but his fat cock invading my bowels made me fart anal wetness on him. There was so much cock burning though my anal tubes, so much fat dick pulsing against my rectum as he molested my round bubbly cheeks! 

    His precum and saliva were leaking out of it, my own cock was dripping in excitement. I doubt a girl would get this wet for cock destroying her bowels!

    “Do you really want my cock in your craphole?” He was a bit nervous with his shaky hands groping my ass.

    “If it was just a craphole we wouldn’t be stretching and stuffing it so hard! Your dick feels perfect in my dumpy, I love your cock in my pooper because that’s the perfect place for sex and I feel it so much even in my bladder and prostate… I want to do nasty butt destruction with my big bro until I feel like I have to shit my guts inside out for you!” I rubbed myself against him pushing back to force my second hole to open, to slide that cock of his up my colon.

    “Damn bro, that’s really warm and really perfect… Can I make love to you in your pooper lil bro? I wanna drive myself up your turd hole so hard!” He was slotting it in, driving his fat blond cock even deeper up my second hole to make me squirt pee.

    “Yeah, yeah… I feel clogged in there… Soo good…” I was struggling with the perfect filling of my rectum, the very first time I had his cock in my second hole piercing into so deep. “Make love to me… Right in me… In your lil bro’s pooper!” The bare warmth of his thick meat stretching my aching pressured cavity, rubbing on my prostate and even hurting my bladder was so good!

    “Come on here!” Chris moved us once he was balls deep up my round muscular teen ass. He grabbed my legs up bringing my knees to my shoulders to start pounding my hole while leaving me vulnerable to his will. “I’m gonna fuck up those big cheeks, big time bro… Let me rape your fuckpipes!”

    “Rape… Rape me in my pooper!” I begged for it to have him kiss me. His hips moved to leave me startled. Chris had failed a year in school so we were both new high school seniors. That made me think he wasn’t so capable for some reason.

    The way he held me with a strong grip, the thrusting into my anal hole was savagely pleasing. His energetic violence came in with rushing continuous impaling of my guts, in his desire to fill up my bowels, he left me with a limp cock and aching desire. I couldn’t concentrate on my dick to keep an erection, everything was rushing to make me focus on deep anal sex. Chris knew how to be brutal and I adored the way he painfully broke my hole wrecking all my sensitive spots.

    He followed up kissing me again. I had my hands trying to take him away and my body trying to squirm away, I even tried to speak. Chris didn’t hear, he didn’t stop. He just kept me in place forcing me to withstand his vicious pistoning. He was truly raping me up to my colon, making my butthole extremely fiery, forcing me take the painful anal destruction and the wild overwhelming anal stuffing pleasure. It was even humiliating how my butthole talked back to him, how it gurgled in ass noises shedding more wetness all over his pole.

    It had me shivering, my cock was throbbing, streaming precum and even squirting piss. My limp dick felt somewhat good even if I failed to keep an erection. It was justified: all the focus was really on my hole. There was way more pleasure on the gratifying anal delight of feeling my guts getting wrecked. 

    The way his thick meat already made me want to push out by itself, but the violent thrusting into my rectum followed by the delectable ruination of my colon provoked my guts to react. I was forcibly pushing out for him to plunge in further subjugating my anus, further stretching my ass pipes while holding me in place. He blasted my anal lips while ripping apart all my internal rings.

    “Fuck yeah!” He shouted when my hole rocketed his cock out. I was trembling in shock. My own limp cock was squirting cum, I couldn’t quite feel it though. All I felt was my very heavy anal contractions, so heavy I prolapsed all over his cock. “Don’t worry baby bro, I have seen this in porn. It’s a full anal orgasm and some sluts describe it as the maximum burning feeling, a lot of need to shit, but much more pleasing… I’m so glad you came from your guts getting ruined!” He kissed my neck. “Grab my dick and slap your prolapse lil bro, fuck… I ruined my baby bro and I love how I broke your dumpy!” 

    I was speechless when grabbing his cock to slap it against my blooming rectum. He was right, I had lost all my bowel control and pushed out due to these contractions. It was as if he had overwhelmed my sensitive insides from being so violent with them. Both my bladder and prostate were overexcited alongside my rectum and colon. That was so perfect, to cum from full anal joy! To fully orgasm from perverted incestuous anal destruction with my big bro and to feel so much relief from it!

    “Can we do that again?” I pointed him to my gaped bitch hole when my prolapse receded back in.

    “I wanna do that so many times to you baby bro!” The heavy thrusting began once more, but Chris wasn’t able to hold it. He started cumming a couple minutes in with his chin on my shoulder as he looked at my bouncing limp, piss and squirting cock.

    The joy of being a legal teen getting filled with my older teen brother’s cum took over me. He finally let go of my legs so I could properly lie on my back on the bed and spread my legs for him.

    “Push out all that cream pie baby boy…”

    I prolapsed myself letting him suck on it. Chris came up to kiss my lips with his cum and my anal wetness. He started jerking off my cock until I shot two cum ropes on his hand. I didn’t have much left after dripping so much cum from the anal destruction.

    “Good boy…” He licked my sperm on his hand and I led myself to kiss him. Chris was already fisting me, he was forcing my pained ass to swallow his hand and making me pee on his bed. “Such a delicate boy penis!” He always enjoyed rubbing it even though Chris was way more focused on my ass.

    “Boys, uncle Bryan will be here soon!” Our mother shouted from downstairs. She and dad were going to some friend’s house for lunch. Our uncle, who was a big football player, was set to spend Christmas day.

    “Fuck… I wanna be gay with my lil bro and breed you again, but we can’t!” Chris complained.

    “We can do it later.”

    We went to the showers to get ready for the rest of the day. My big bro was all over my cheeks, we couldn’t play much with it though. I could only hope to have even more buttsex with Chris, as much as we could.


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


  • Mark Stevens Meets Ted and Alice

    Alice and Ted had been my new neighbors for a few months. They seemed like a nice couple. They moved down here to Indiana from northern Minnesota to live close to their married son and daughter and their families. And, presumably to get away from the cold winters in Minnesota. They should have kept going south because the winters here in Indiana aren’t that much better. 

    Both were recently retired. Ted has been an HR manager while Alice was a registered nurse. I’m guessing they were between 65 and 70 years old. They were a nice-looking couple for their ages. Friendly, too. Both liked to golf and Alice was newly into pickle ball – the retiree’s version of real tennis. 

    Since they had moved in, I only saw Ted a few times working out in the yard. He pretty much kept to himself. He only spoke if I made the effort first. That was okay by me. Alice was a lot friendlier. If she saw me out in my yard, she would always come over to the fence for a quick chat. I probably talked to her a couple times each week since they’d been here. For her age, she was quite attractive with shoulder length, jet black hair. Probably dyed but who knows for sure? She reminded me a lot of my mother and even more of my grandmother due to her age. Ted reminded me a little bit of my grandfather. Both of them together brought back memories of the time I fucked my grandfather, and my goddam sexy grandmother used a strap on to fuck me. Ah, the good old days although they really weren’t that long ago. 

    A few times when I saw Ted, he appealed to my ever-growing gay desires. When he would mow his yard, he usually didn’t wear a shirt. For his age, I have to say he was in pretty good shape. Strong chest and biceps. Nothing flabby about the guy. Quite fit for his age. I have to admit I jerked off to him more than once since they had moved in. His age didn’t matter to me. I had fucked my father and my own grandfather. As long as the guy looked good, age didn’t matter to me. Young, old, I liked cock on nice-looking guys. Cock always got me hard. 

    And yes, I did the same thinking about Alice. Jerking off I mean.  I figured I had a better chance of getting in her pants than Ted’s since they had kids and grandkids. Ted looked like a pretty straight arrow. But so do I, so you never know. In any event, I wasn’t ruling either one of them out for a long, or short-term fucking relationship. Isn’t that what good neighbors are for?  If you can’t fuck a neighbor (in a good way), who can you fuck? 

    From what I could tell when we talked over the fence, Alice had larger-than-average-sized breasts. She always liked to leave a little cleavage showing, too. I enjoyed that. Her legs were long and shapely for a mid-60s age grandma. In fact, she liked to show them off when she golfed, played the courts, or just sat out on their patio. She never wore shorts or skirts longer than mid-thigh which showed off her legs nicely. I didn’t mind. When she came over to the fence last Thursday, I was eager to talk to her.  That’s when things started to get interesting. 

    “Hi Mark, how have you been? It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve seen you out in the yard. I’ve missed chatting with you.” 

    “Hi Alice, Yes, I’ve been out of town a few weeks. I’ve been traveling for my job and just got back last night as a matter of fact. I’ve missed talking to you, too. How have you and Ted been doing?” 

    “Oh, we’re doing fine thanks.” She paused for a few seconds. She looked around, started and paused again. One of those “awkward pauses” in conversation you hear about. I could tell she was unusually nervous. Nervous as Hell.   

    “Ted thinks you’re sexy.” 

    What did she just say? No way I heard that right. 

    “Excuse me, what did you just say? Ted thinks I’m sixty? I’m twenty-six, not sixty!” 

    Laughing, she said, “NO, NO, Ted thinks you’re sexy, not sixty. I do too, but Ted talks about you all the time. Every time he sees you he says that. He’s jealous of your body. I think he has a little thing for you, haha.” 

    “Umm, okay, I’m really not sure what to say about that Alice. Is this something we should be talking about? Your husband telling you he thinks I’m sexy. I guess that’s a compliment, but it’s unusual for a husband to tell his wife he finds another man attractive. Isn’t it?” 

    “Oh no. It’s much more than that Mark. More complicated. Ted has fantasized about being with another man, or a teen boy for years. Ever since we got married to be honest. But the small town where we come from, it’s not something you do. At least not easily, or out in the open. Since we moved here and we’re now retired, his desire to be with a man – at least to try it – has come back to him stronger than ever. When we first moved in and he saw you, he told me you made those urges come back like never before. 

    Last night when we went to bed, I could hear him playing with himself. Stroking his cock. Whispering your name. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was thinking about his mouth going down on your cock. Sucking the whole thing. Swallowing your cum. And more. He finally had to set up on the edge of the bed to relieve himself. He masturbated all over the floor. Seeing him do that while thinking about you got me so hot that I started fingering myself. I came all over my panties. It was the best orgasm I’d had in five years! 

    To be honest, I’ve always wanted to see Ted with another man. I have bisexual feelings myself, although I’ve never had the opportunity to act on them. But the thought of seeing my husband with another man is a real turn on for me. We even watch gay porn together just to have some fun. 

    I know there is quite a bit of an age difference between you and Ted, but would you be interested in spending an evening with us?” 

    “Alice, wow this is really weird. I guess I’m flattered that Ted finds me attractive, but I’m not…” 

    Before I could finish my half lie, she interrupted me. 

    “Gay? You mean you’re not gay? No, no. We never thought you were. I never meant to imply that. But I’m sure hot guys like you like to have your cock sucked. Right? Ted just wants to experience that at least once. The feel of a man’s cock shooting jizz in his throat. It’s been a fantasy of his…well mine too, for a long time. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy a great blowjob. You don’t have to reciprocate in any way. You can just pretend it’s your first high school crush. You don’t have to be gay to enjoy a good cock-sucking, right? 

    “Alice you’re talking about your husband having sex with another man. Your husband of what 30-40 years? And you’re okay seeing him suck your neighbor’s cock and possibly more? I’m not sure there are many wives who are that understanding, or willing to share their husband. Especially, with another man.” 

    “Yes, well, our sex life isn’t what it used to be. We need to spice it up a bit. And again you don’t have to do anything. You can pretend it’s a female giving you a blow job. Getting a blowjob from Ted won’t turn you into a homosexual. Well, unless you really like it, haha! 

    I just want to see Ted live out his fantasy. The only rule is that I get to watch. You guys can’t be alone when this happens. That’s if you agree to do it. I’ve had dreams of watching Ted go down on another man; especially a young guy like you for years. So what do you think, Mark? You up to seeing what it’s like to have your cock sucked by another man? It won’t make you gay, I promise.” 

    Hell, this wasn’t close to being as taboo as when I had sex with my dad. Or with my grandfather and grandmother, but it was pretty damn wild. And I wouldn’t even have to tell them that I was into them as much as they were into me. And I certainly wouldn’t have to tell them that this wouldn’t be my first time with a man, or even a teenage boy. 

    “Mark, why don’t you think about it? If you’re interested, come over for drinks tonight around 7 and we’ll see how things go from there. No pressure. But I think you might enjoy a blowjob from Ted. And don’t worry about thinking you might be gay. It’s just a blowjob. I’m sure you’ve had your cock sucked many, many times. Right?  This is just one more.” 

    She put her hand on mine as she was turning away. The feeling was electric. This woman, this grandma, just invited me to put my cock in her husband’s mouth and shoot cum down his throat. While she watched. And I could pretend I was a virgin to gay sex. Fuck, where do I sign up for this? 

    “Okay Alice. Let me think about it. If I’m not there by 7 I’m not coming. Don’t be offended if I don’t come. I’m just not sure about being with a man. With a man old enough to be my grandfather.” 

    Of course, that was a lie, but I didn’t need to tell her that.  At least not yet.  As she turned away, I couldn’t help but notice how nice her ass was. Not for a woman her age, but for a woman of any age. I might agree to let Ted suck me just for the chance to see her with all of her clothes off.   

    “That’s fine Mark. But seeing that wet spot on the front of your jeans makes me think Ted and I will be seeing you tonight. I certainly hope that’s what that cum stain means.” 

    Damn, I knew my cock was pushing against my pants, but I didn’t know I was leaking precum too. Busted. She just smiled as she walked away. A knowing smile so certain that I’d be over to get my cock drained. While she fingered herself watching her husband suck cock. 

    What she didn’t know is that I wouldn’t be happy without some reciprocation of what I got. I didn’t know what Ted’s cock was like, but I wouldn’t leave their home before I found out. 

    When I arrived, Alice answered the door and kissed me on the cheek. Ted wasn’t far behind. He was much taller than I thought he was. While Alice had almost jet black hair, Ted’s hair was mostly white. Not gray. White. Thick too. He had a nice summer tan. He was wearing one of those muscle T-shirts that showed his very strong biceps, especially for his age. It wasn’t one of those white beater T-shirts. This was a dark navy blue that looked good against his skin. He was wearing a pair of white golf shorts that showed his nicely tanned legs. I admit he looked pretty damn hot for a grandpa. 

    “Come on in son. How’s my boy today?” 

    Oh my, does this guy have an incest fantasy that he was never able to work out with his own son? Maybe this is going to be better than I even thought. I already fucked my own dad and was fucked by him. So if this guy wanted to pretend to be my dad for an evening that was fine by me. My cock got even harder than it was on the way over. 

    “I’m real good dad. How are you? I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’ve missed you.” 

    I went to kiss him. Not on the cheek like Alice kissed me, but full on the lips. I put my tongue in his mouth and my hands on his ass. I could feel his hardon up against mine. Fuck this is gonna be good. 

    “Son, why don’t you come over here and sit in the chair with your dad and tell me how much you missed me?” 

    He sat down first. I sat on his lap with my arms draped around his neck. I leaned down to kiss him. Not as his son. But as his incestuous son and lover. If I was going to get him off, I was going to go all the way to do it. As soon as my lips touched his, he opened his mouth to let my tongue in. He put his tongue in my mouth, just the same as my own father and my grandfather did months before. It was the best incest kiss I’ve had since then. 

    I could hear Alice moaning in the background. I turned to look back at her. She had pulled down her skirt and her panties were lying on the floor. Her thigh high stockings were still tight against her sexy legs. She was stroking her pussy. Of the three of us, I don’t know who was the most turned on. As we continued to kiss, Ted spread my legs and started fondling the area over my cock. At the same time, I could feel his cock pushing upwards in his own crotch, so I started fondling him as well. He felt big and hard at this point. Like the daddy cock I loved. I didn’t know what else he was doing, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to fondle my cock. Our kissing was very erotic and I didn’t want it to stop.  

    “Oh son! You don’t know how many years I’ve wanted to touch my boy’s cock. This is a dream come true for your daddy. Kiss me, son.” 

    “I’ve wanted you, too, Dad. For as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted to taste your cock. I want to make love to you. And I want you to make love to me. I need you.  Tonight.” 

    “Yes, yes son I’m going to make love to you tonight. . I’m going to suck your cock and I’ll do whatever else you want me to do. I’m going to make you feel so good my lovely boy.” 

    “Oh yeah dad. I want you to take my cock in your mouth. I want you to suck my cock and balls. I want you to swallow my cum dad. I want to feel your dick in my ass. I want you to fuck my pussy. Please fuck me tonight while mom watches us.” 

    “Oh yes, son. Oh yes. I want mom to see me fuck you. She has wanted that for a long time and I want to give it to her. I want her to see her husband fuck the son that came out of her hairy pussy. Your mom has dreamed of seeing me fuck you since you were a teenager.” 

    Alice stroked her pussy even harder hearing Ted say that. 

    Before I let Ted have his way with my cock and my ass, I wanted his first. I slid off of his lap down to my knees. I unbuckled his pants sliding his shorts and underwear off of his sexy, tanned legs and ass. His cock was so beautiful. Hard and sticking straight up. I pushed his legs apart to get as close to his cock as possible. I moved my mouth to the piss slit of his cock sticking my tongue into it. He loved that. Alice started moaning and fingering her cunt, even more when she saw me put my mouth over the head of his cock, I went down on Ted as far as I could. My lips against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. He tasted so good. Just like my grandpa did before. I pumped up and down and squeezed his cock with my mouth as hard as I could. He moved to the edge of the chair so that I could lick his balls. They tasted good. Daddy balls. I went back to suck his cock, but only for a minute. I did not want him to cum – yet. I wanted that sweet daddy juice saved for my ass. 

    I turned him over in the chair where I had a perfect view of his ass. I’m buried my tongue into his ass crack as far as I could. I ran my tongue up and down the full length of his ass slit so that Alice could get a better look at her husband’s gay ass. I grabbed his stiff cock with my hand while I tongued his ass even deeper. Alice was absolutely in heaven seeing me asslick her husband.

     “Yeah, Mark. Lick your dad’s ass. Lick it. I love it son. Lick your father for mommy. Show me how to do it baby. Show me how to tongue fuck daddy.” 

    Fuck, I just came over for a blowjob. I was getting that and a whole lot more. I was already wondering when I could come back for another session. 

    “Son, stop! You’re going to make me cum.  I want to suck your cock first. I need your cock in my mouth.” 

    So, I pulled my face away from Ted’s ass. I stood up and let him get on his knees to suck my cock. I was hoping I could put my cock in his tight ass while I was still rock hard. But I knew his fantasy was to suck my cock imagining that he was sucking his own son. 

    Maybe my cock was Ted’s first time sucking one. Maybe not. Either way, he knew what he was doing. He put his hands on my naked ass and went down to take the whole thing in one swallow. He wanted all eight inches in his mouth, or throat if need be. He pumped up and down, making my cock want to shoot hot cum into his mouth. I held it as long as I could, but once his finger touched my ass, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I held the back of his head tight so I could shove my cock as hard as I could into the back of his mouth. Like a good daddy, when I came in his mouth he never let a drop go to waste. I had no cum left. He stood up to kiss me and filled my mouth with some of the cum that I had just put in his mouth. God I love that. The feel of a man putting my cum from his mouth back into mine. I absolutely love it. The taste yes. But the depravity of it, too. 

    “Fuck him. Fuck him Ted.” Fuck your boy. Fuck your son. Fuck your boy Ted. Fuck your little boy’s pussy. Like you’ve always wanted to Ted.” 

    I heard Alice screaming those words in the background. Father and son incest turned Alice on as much as it did me and Ted. Maybe more. Damn, she was a wild woman, grandmother, or not. 

    Ted did as Alice told him to do. He grabbed both of my hips and pushed his cock into my ass with one shove. Fuck, I wasn’t ready for one mad push like that. But once he got past the entrance to my ass and all the way in, I was fine. God, it felt wonderful. 

    “Fuck me dad, fuck me. Daddy, fuck your little bitch. Fuck your boy’s creamy ass dad. I love you so much.” 

    “I love you too, son. I love your hot cunt.” 

    Feeling the head of his daddy dick touch the very bottom of my cunt, I was trying hard not to cum. I moaned every time he pulled out and I grunted every time he pushed back in. Fuck I can still feel today one of the best fucks I’ve ever had. It was going to be a hot juicy mess when he came in my ass. My pussy was already filled with some of Ted’s hot leaking cum. 

    “Oh son, I cannot hold it any longer. I’m gonna cum in your ass son. I’m cumming in your ass boy, Here it comes. Take it in your ass boy, while mommy watches.” 

    And then he fell on me. He was totally spent. I don’t think he had an ounce of cum left in his entire body. Alice was getting ready to cum, too. I asked her to put her cunt in my face so that I could taste her juices, too. She was more than willing. 

    After cleaning up Alice’s pussy, I turned around to go back to Ted. 

    “Oh dad, thank you for that. I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel. I bent down to kiss him. I grabbed and fondled his cock even though it was soft by now. I kissed him again, like the first time. 

    “I love you dad.”

     

    “Thanks. Thanks Mark. Thanks for helping me fulfill an incest fantasy that I’ve always had but could never explore with my own son. You made it feel so real like we were really father and son. And, as you can see, Alice enjoyed it, too. Have you ever had similar incest fantasies like this?” 

    “Ted, I’ve got so many incest and other taboo fantasies that it would take a week to tell you half of them. Yeah, I’ve had this fantasy with my father, my grandfather, and even my grandmother. I think a lot of us do, even if we don’t admit it. When Alice proposed this today, I acted like I wasn’t sure about it. In reality, I came three times today before I even got over here just thinking about doing what we did. The first time I saw you two, I was fantasizing about something like this. Tonight was a dream come true. I thought you’d be a good fuck. I was right about that. I hope tonight is the first of many. And I’m willing to try anything else you guys might have in mind.” 

    “Mark, son, that sounds great. Is there anything we can do that would make a dream come true for you?”

    “Well, since you asked. I’ve always wanted to be fucked by a woman – preferably my mother –who uses a strap on dildo to fuck me, while I’m sucking her husband and gulping down his semen. I’d like her to strap her dick on tight and fuck me hard. Make me her boy bitch.” 

    “Mark, you just mentioned one of Alice’s top fantasies.” 

    A few minutes later Alice returned wearing a fat, black 12” strap on dildo telling me to get on my knees. She guided Ted’s now hard again cock into my mouth and told me to start sucking. She lubed up her cock, put it up against the crack in my ass and shoved it in just like Ted did with his real cock. She grabbed on to my shoulders and pushed into my ass telling me she loved me. I didn’t take all 12 inches of Alice, but I took as much as I could. If she takes a cock as good as she gives one, she’s going to be some fun. 

    “Mommy’s gonna fuck your ass, just like your father did. Now swallow Ted’s cum while I finish getting off.” 

    And that’s what I did. I went down on Ted as far as I could while Alice made one deep, violent thrust into my cunt. I swallowed every drop he had, kissed him again, and told both of them I’d be back. These people were wild and I couldn’t wait to help fill their next fantasies. 

    “Mark, would you be interested in helping us see if we could get our real son to join us in the future?” 

    I told you these people are wild. 


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  • Two Eyes on Me: kiss, sex and suck

    I logged into that site without a clear purpose, more out of habit than desire. Still, when the message arrived, I felt something different — not urgency, but curiosity. His words were carefully chosen, as if he knew exactly how much to reveal. At first, he spoke of partnership, of something shared. Later, the story shifted, as if improvisation were part of the game. Strangely enough, that only sharpened my attention.

    I agreed to meet with a calm that didn’t match the subtle tightness in my chest. The meeting point felt far too neutral for what was being suggested. As I approached the car, I felt two gazes settle on me at the same time. Leo held mine steadily; Marcos looked away and back again, as if measuring me in silence. At that moment, we were already three — even before a single word was spoken.

    The drive to Marcos’s place was short, but mentally endless. The silence inside the car wasn’t uncomfortable; it was dense. Every movement, every glance in the rearview mirror seemed to carry an unspoken question. I felt I wasn’t there merely as a guest, but as a piece of something slowly taking shape.

    The apartment welcomed us with lighting too dim to be accidental. I took off my jacket slowly, aware of every gesture, every breath that seemed louder than it should be. We stood close, yet untouched. It was as if the space between us was the true center of the scene — alive, charged, provoking.

    Leo carried a firm, almost controlled presence. Marcos, on the other hand, seemed to blend into the atmosphere, as though he naturally accepted the role of feeling before acting. I watched them, while at the same time feeling watched. There was no rush, only a quiet construction of intentions.

    Nothing needed to be said for everything to be understood. The atmosphere suggested paths, possibilities, combinations. I realized it wasn’t about two separate encounters, but something triangular forming in the air. The sensation of being desired by two different gazes at once stirred the mind more than any direct contact ever could.

    Marcos approached me and we started kissing, our cocks rubbing together. We took off the rest of the clothes we were still wearing. Marcos sucked my cock with gusto, while Leo watched everything. Then I started licking his ass until my jaw hurt. That’s when he asked me to fuck him. Leo came closer, grabbed Marcos’s ass, looked at me and said: “Fuck this little slut’s ass!”

    I started fucking him while he was lying face down on the bed. His ass was delicious, loose, really nice to pound, and he was a little slut in bed too, letting out really nice moans and always asking for more cock. He really liked it when I went harder. He sat on top of me with great pleasure and that’s when he came on top of me. Then Leo asked if I came, I said no, he came closer, licked all the semen that was on my body and then started sucking me. I could feel the head of my penis inside his throat, he was sucking with such desire… I warned him I was going to cum, he increased the intensity of his sucking… I ended up cumming in his mouth. He looked at me with a mischievous look and wiped the corner of his mouth.

    As the night began to dissolve, there was no sense of closure — only suspension. As if something had been initiated, but deliberately left unfinished. What didn’t happen there gained even more power precisely because it remained in the realm of imagination.

    On the way back, Leo said something in a low, almost confessional tone, revealing a desire that until then had seemed contained. I listened without responding right away. Some stories don’t ask for answers — they ask for time. And as I continued on my way, I knew that night had not been an ending, but a prelude.


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  • The Journey

    I will never forget the first time me and the Master spoke. It started out so casual.. an online connection. He was cool, calm and collected. He wasn’t like the other masters who had tried to get pushy and nasty. This time it was a man who has confidence and natural authority – he wasn’t there to push or force, but with an air of expectation he lead me to do what he told me. To do what he wanted. To comply with his wishes. I was nervous of course, and I was wary. What if he recorded my cam sessions? What if he exposed me? What if he blackmailed me? Everything I was doing felt so risky and yet I felt this deep need to simply listen to his voice and to make him happy. 

    At first it was simple things – such as stripping me on camera, making me show my hole, making me massage my hole. He allowed me to do it without my face on show at first, but then slowly he pushed me further. If I wanted his attention, if I wanted his approval, I needed to keep obeying, keep going deeper and keep allowing myself to be transformed by him. And in spite of all my better judgment, I did want his approval; I DID want his attention. I had an urge to simply be HIS.

    Those early cam sessions moved along quite quickly. I grew to trust the Master and to let myself slide into being who he wanted me to be. As the trust grew I thought nothing of being naked on camera with my face on show. I began to like the feeling of him seeing all of me and being in control. Being naked turned into hole play. Hole play turned into degradation, until he decided it was time for me to take a step further. He wanted to see me used and abused for real, live on stream.

    I said no, of course. I couldn’t begin to contemplate having a mouth full of cock while a camera was pointing at me, live streaming it to a Master at the other side of the world. And yet…! And yet… Once I knew it’s what he wanted, it began to have a corrosive impact on my will. I found myself wanking over the thought. I found myself wanting it. Not because I wanted to take the risk or to be watched sucking cock, but because HE wanted me to. Just like that I began to crave the idea.. I knew I was only deserving of his attention if I was willing to obey. Willing to comply. Willing to let go. And so in a matter of just a few days or weeks, I found myself begging to be watched sucking cock. The Master had ideas.. he would have me advertise on a dating app and he would choose who I sucked. My mouth, as far as he was concerned, was his property now and he would decide what it got filled with. 

    I was apprehensive to try but a few days of being banned from orgasms got me ready to do anything I was told, and so one Friday night I begged to be allowed to fulfil my Master’s desires. It was simple to set up the profile and with great nervousness and apprehension I filled it out:

    “Submissive slave looking for cock to suck. My master wants to watch on camera as I service a man. Who is up for it?” 

    I thought perhaps this was a little niche but it seemed a few guys were up for it and my adrenaline pumped as I realised how much I was letting go. I sent screenshots of the profiles to my Master and awaited his response. He picked a mixed race man who lived a short drive away from me and I drove over to his area of town. The guy was very average looking, if not a little on the unattractive side, but then I got the distinct impression from my Master that this was an added bonus. He didn’t want me to enjoy it, but simply to learn I existed to please other men. He said my mission was to become all about pleasing cock, not thinking of my own enjoyment.

    The Master was tall, bear-like and a real man. He was a gay king and it became apparent very quickly he was an absolute expert in getting guys who were apprehensive, but showed a submissive streak, to surrender to him and to put themselves under his control.

    I sat nervously in my car with the phone in hand. “I’m here” I wrote, to both the Master and the hook up. I gulped. I was about to suck the cock of a guy I wasn’t even attracted to because a Master had told me to .. and it was the biggest rush ever. I stepped out of my car and walked towards the front door.. I knocked with confidence but that isn’t how I was feeling inside. I was greeted by a South Asian man, a bit taller than me with an average build and a bit of a gut. He welcomed me in and I reminded him I would need to call my Master now. I was lead to the host’s bedroom and as I knelt on the floor, my Master answered the call. I knelt there and the host’s flaccid cock was placed before my face.

    “Suck it” I heard through the call.

    I began to suck it slowly and it stiffened in my mouth. My host held the sides of my head while I gripped his leg with one hand and held the phone with the other.

    “Good boy” my Master said, with an air of perverted sexual pleasure in his voice. This drove me wild. My own cock throbbed but I was banned from touching that. I simply had to focus entirely on my host. He moaned as I bobbed my head up and down on the meat, pulling out, kissing and licking it, licking the balls and the head, before sliding it right past my lips again and pushing as far as I could. I gagged. 

    “Keep going” my host said.

    “Yes, keep going slut” I heard through the phone.

    I had never felt anything like this. I didn’t fancy the this man and yet I was hungrily sucking his meat and gripping his leg as my Master made his enjoyment clear through the phone. I felt the cock pulsate in my mouth and I sucked all the more furiously. The next moment I felt it exploded in my mouth, gushing semen into my mouth and throat and all over my tongue. My master groaned with enjoyment. This was just what he had envisaged from me and I had executed it to his exact commands.

    I stood up and asked to use the bathroom. I didn’t get to cum – I wasn’t there for that after all. I ended the call with my Master and went and sat in my car outside. I was horned up and so still felt very slutty. A little bad, yes.. but mainly just pumped full of adrenaline and actually a little bit pleased with myself that I had given my Master exactly what he wanted.

    My phone buzzed and I looked down at the notification screen: “time to go again, faggot”.

  • The Officers’ New Addiction

    Detective Michael Counihan was the deputy in BW Police Station, tall, muscular, with sharp facial features. He has great pecs and a nice firm ass. He has a very gruff and stern voice, his masculine tone oozing with authority.

    He’s now investigating the missing case of several bankers, including Andrea, Kevin, Zac and Denis. After researching into the last place of signals, Officer Counihan decided to go to Stercomaster’s restaurant for further investigation. He was the leader of the Criminal Investigation Division and the Missing Persons Unit.

    Stood with Counihan was another hunky officer, Blake Radcliff. His chiseled face is highlighted by a well – groomed beard and captivating, clear – eyed gaze. His short, neatly styled hair adds to his professional and handsome look. When seen outside of his uniform, his muscular physique is truly a sight to behold. His chest and arms are covered in detailed, artistic tattoos that give him a rugged edge. Every muscle is well – defined, from the bulging biceps to the sculpted abs. His broad back, adorned with an intricate tattoo, showcases his strength as he exercises.

    Both officers have been in the ST city for weeks and been keeping their eyes on Stercomaster’s restaurant. The location in the deserted town already indicated abnormality.

    After discussion, Michael and Blake decided to go to meet the owner. They was received by the guard Gianluca, who led them into the restaurant. On entering, both keen cops noticed a faint stink in the air. They frowned, also noticing there’s no else in the restaurant. The distinct smell that lingered in the air. It wasn’t immediately noticeably sharp, but as soon as the cops took a deep breath, it hit them like a ton of bricks.

    “Please follow me, my master is already waiting for you.” Gianluca walked in front. Blake looked at the guard’s huge plumb round butt that’s ripe for the taking, thinking this is one hell of an ass. He could smell the stink from the guard’s ass, even through his leather pants. He watched those muscular asscheeks bounce with every step even through the Gianluca’s pants. On top of the smell emanating from the guard’s ass, there’s another stink lingering in the air, a mix of masculine sweat and stale piss and shit in outhouse. Blake curled his nose and tried his best to breathe through his mouth. Now and then he waved a hand in front of his face to disperse the stink.

    On entering Stercomaster’s office, the cops were suddenly hit by a strong blast of stink that almost fainted them. It smelt as if a tens of asses had been farting in the room. The thick shitty smell was stronger than anything the cop had smelt. But as professional cops, they quickly shook out of it and regained their clear mind and saw the huge well-groomed suited man sitting behind the desk.

    Michael immediately didn’t like the man in front of him. Years of dealing with criminal cases gave him the ability to recognize the well-hidden evil in the man’s eyes. He looked at Blake, and saw the same suspicion in his eyes.

    “Nice meeting you, officers.” Stercomaster went to shake hand with them. That’s when the cops noticed the rancid shitty stench was from Stercomaster’s body.

    Blake collected his mind, sitting in front of the man across the desk with Counihan. “As I said before in my telephone, I came here for the missing cases of several bankers.”

    The air in the office was thick with the reek of raw sewage and rotting feces, a suffocating cloud that seemed to claw at the officers lungs and burn their eyes. Every breath was a struggle, the foul odor invading their senses, yet there was something inexplicably magnetic about it—a dark, primal pull that overrode their revulsion. But at moment, they couldn’t pay much attention to the stink.

    “I understand but I’m not sure how I can help you, officer.” Stercomaster put his feet in socks on the desk.

    Both cops’ noses were hit by the strongest feet odor. It smelt like the man hadn’t washed his feet for years. Michael looked down on Stercomaster’s white sock that was deeply brown and his partner Blake also looked at the right foot that placed before him.

    It seemed Stercomaster just took his feet out of a leather shoe, the smell was free of the shoes containment. Michael winced at the smell, he thought he was going to jump back and recoil from the smell, or cover his nose, but instead, out of a reason unknown to him, he did nothing.

    “According to my investigation, this is the place where their phone signals was last detected.” Michael swallowed hard. On rare occasion when he got close to Stercomaster’s left foot, his mind blew a fuse. The feet odor was so intoxicating it gave his a boner through his jeans.

    Both cops could smell Stercomaster’s shitty body odor across the desk. Thet took a huge inhale of the man’s feet stink. Normally, the neat cops would push the nasty feet away vehemently and recoil in disgust. But now, something seemed different.

    “But that doesn’t prove anything, did it?” Stercomaster edged his feet closer to the two officers respectively.

    ” After that, they went completely missing, no signs of witnessing, nothing.” Blake said underneath his breath, the strong stink permeating the air really starting to eat away at his patience. The unmistakable aroma of feet perspiration enveloped the two cops and washed into their noses and twisted their mind. The stink filled the space before their noses and invaded their lungs.

    “Maybe they started with a new life. Officers, you know how some men are just not satisfied with their own previous life. Many of them have unknown desires that long to be drawn out. I’m sure you also have their desires in you.” Stercomaster said and shook his feet under the officers’ noses.

    Neither cops answered immediately. Their eyesight taken by Stercomaster’s sweaty feet. The white socks were moist with modelled well to Stercomaster’s feet. The brown-wore sole of the showed clear imprints of his toes. They didn’t understand why they are studying a man’s feet.

    Swallowing hard, Michael replied: ” No, Sir, you’re deviating…” He couldn’t notice what himself was talking, as the thought nagged in his mind:” Just take a whiff, a quick sniff, it will be easing. ” His crotch was heating in perverse adoration for the stink. The cop was feeling enthralled. Strong stink was wafting over him.

    The guard Gianluca, who stood always behind, passed both cops a cup of liquid, but as neither drank it, even though they felt quite thirsty. Michael looked at Blake, who had been silent for a while, and saw his nose just two inch away from Stercomaster’s right foot.

    Michael’s dick flicked up in his pants. He tried to pull away and remained where he was. But just then, Stercomaster adjusted his feet positions and edged left foot closer to Michael’s nose. Michael’s nose made contact with the a toe, and he couldn’t help but inhaling the foot funk. The cop sighed on the heavenly smell. He couldn’t peel his nose away. The cop noticed his own hard-on and the dampness in his underpants.

    Michael knew he must shield a mental blockage of his conscious mind against longing for the stinking foot. He had finally managed to hang to his rationality and stood up. His movement also broke Blake’s trance., who also managed to stand up with his eyes a little glassy. Knowing they shouldn’t stay here for long, Michael and Blake quickly left and said they would drop by the next day.

    Both cops left in a quick manner but were largely silent on the way back to the hotel. They didn’t talk about the stink, both recovering from the smell that were rooted in their minds. They were frustrated and battled in their mind. “Smelling a man’s feet? It’s repulsive to any sane person! It made no fucking sense!” Both cops also felt a kind of deeper longing, not only for feet stench, but for something more.

    Back in hotel, the cops felt their lust calmed down. They discussed about the cases a while. Then Michael went to the shower. He took off his clothes, exposing his huge muscles and went to the shower.

    Blake was still pondering on the case as a familiar smell hit his nose. His dick immediately sprung to its hardness. He looked up and saw Michael’s shoes next to his bed. The smell of Michael’s freshly worn shoes filled his nose quickly.

    Knowing it’s wrong, Blake suddenly got this thought and courage to sniff Michael’s shoes.

    Blake picked up Michael’s shoes that gave out sharp briny stink of feet. The cop was feeling hot, slowly putting the damp aperture to his nose.

    “This isn’t me.” Regretful, he snatched up Michale’s shoe and pressed it over his nose and mouth. The sound of shower was assuring for his activity as the cop took his first long drag inside Michael’s shoe.

    ” Fuck…” Blake almost moaned out when the stink filled his nose. His nose skimmed every part of the shoes that emanated the heavy stink. Blake could feel his saliva soaking its way slowly into the sole of the Michael’s shoes, and then the stink of feet seeping back onto his tongue and down his throat. The strong feet odor was blotting out the cop’s unrealistic attempt to resist his new compulsion to inhale more stink.

    Blake was dazed and confused, unable to process what was happening to him. He knew he hey had been corrupted, but he couldn’t resist the overwhelming urge. Then he thrust the other shoe on his pulsing dick and began to rub his dick on the damp interior.

    Unbeknownst to Blake, the Deputy Michael was wanking his dick in the shower in the same raging way. His nose could also not forget the hot stink emanating from Stercomaster’s nose. He was wanking his dick harder and harder. But before he cummed, the deputy forced himself out of the trance. He stood there under shower, panting, all sweaty. ” No, he couldn’t cum to such disgusting fantasy!”

    With his lust unsatisfied, deputy Michael walked out the shower, pushed his shoes aside with his feet and sat onto the bed, failing to notice the strange milky liquid in one of his shoes as Blake went to the shower with an expression of guiltiness.

    The next day, both cops went back to the restaurant. This time, both have shielded their mental barriers up. Both categorized their weird lust as a simple accident in a corner of their mind.

    But the moment they went in the restaurant, their noses caught the first trail of the sharp stink and almost instinctively, both cops took a deep breath and felt extremely relaxed as if this is the right place and only right thing to do to release their pressure.

    Now Deputy Michael handed Stercomaster the call logs of the missing banker. ” Sir, all I need is cooperation. ” Michael said, ” These logs manifest connections between this place and those missing case.”

    ” How fortunate. Cooperation happens to be my favorite things.” Stercomaster leaned over across the desk to take the file. As he spoke, a noxious cloud erupted from his mouth — a stench so vile, so utterly putrid, that it seemed to warp the very air around the two cops’ noses.

    Blake felt extremely thirty, and grabbed the cup to quench his thirst. The liquid tastes rancid and salty, yet delicious. Michael wanted to warn Blake not to drink anything here. He saw Blake paused and frowned at the taste but then poured the whole cup into his mouth. Guided by thirst and curiosity, Michael also lifted the cup and tipped the liquid into his mouth. The taste overwhelmed the deputy’s tastebud, it’s a kind of flavor that he never had before. Instead of easing their craving, both cops felt a stronger thirsty that there’s no way to quench rising inside of them.

    Stercomaster was reading the call logs, leaning back on the chair and putting his sweaty stinking feet on the table, right in front of each cop.

    Both cops noticed this time, a pair of socks wore by the muscular sinister man was even more dirty and the smell seemed to intensify. They wanted to shift their eyes away, but they couldn’t. Both looked at the feet as if the whole world around melted away. Neither made any move as their rational mind still preceded and both knew it would be too obviously if they tried to sniff the feet. Then they heard Stercomaster’s voice.

    ” Officers, to show my cooperation, I have also something to offer to you for detailed study.” Stercomaster puckered his lips toward them, indicating them to look down. His feet were right on a stack of papers. A smirk twisted his lips as he wiggled his toes—a mockery of invitation.

    This seemed like a perfect excuse for the officers to bend their heads down. Blake made a gentle attempt to pull the paper out – he didn’t intend to actually pull them out and were happy to find out Stercomaster’s foot weighed heavily on the papers. He bowed his head down, pretending to read the contract but actually studying the stinking foot. It’s big, with a nice arch and very wet with sweat.

    Michael saw Blake’s movement. He wanted to stop him, but somehow, he decided to take a deep sniff before saying anything. The Deputy reasoned himself to take a quick sniff, and the hunger will be eased. But he overestimated his self-control. The foot funk was overly seductive. The tip of his nose made contact with Stercomaster’s toes and the cop started inhaling. He sighed, the smell was mind easing for him. He felt his craving for the stench reclining a little, but next moment, the lust came back tripled. Almost unconsciously, the Deputy took a second deep breath, so deep as if he was trying to vacuum up the smell. The rational part in the cop’s mind was alerting him, telling him to stop, but his dick was burning hard in lust.

    Recognizing the whole situation, Michael wanted to say something to Blake, but just as he opened his mouth, Stercomaster spread his foot further and inserted his toes into Michael’s mouth. At first, the officer tasted nothing, but then, the flavor that was ten times stronger than the feet odor filled his mouth. Losing control, the deputy closed his mouth and sucked on Stercomaster’s foot. The socks had been worn for who knows how long, the taste was like heaven.

    The other officer Blake now yanked the socks off Stercomaster’s feet then sucked with abandon. His tongue poked through his lips and licked the sweaty skin… He had lost himself in his euphoric high. The cop knew this is utterly wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He looked at the Deputy, who still sucked Stercomaster’s feet through the stinking socks. The whole scene just made him even more horny.

    Blake’s greedy tongue circled each stinking toe, on which there were tufts of dark hairs. His tongue lapped around each toe and as his mouth sucked as if this is the most delicious thing he ever put his mouth on.

    Meanwhile, Deputy Michael also took off the sock. His tongue lunged quickly at Stercomaster’s dirty sweaty sole of foot and worshipped like the most pious believer.

    The whole office was filled with the 2 cops’ loud licking and sucking. They moaned louder as they felt their orgasm building up. The last trace of their reasons told them to stop. They couldn’t cum in such a humiliating situation but they had no strength in pulling their tongues back. All their strength was used on sucking hard the stinking foot in front of their faces. Finally, with loud moaning, ropes of sperm shot out from the cops’ twitching dicks.

    Then the whole world faded around them. As both realized what happened, and jolted out from their stupor and pulled their faces from the feet that were covered in their saliva. They jumped back in shock and disbelief. The whole scene was too shocking, even for a criminal cops like them. It took them several moments to process what happened, as shame, gilt and disgust set in.

    “What’s wrong, officers? I have been quite cooperative when you are licking my feet, right?” Stercomaster laughed.

    Both cops stood there, panting in shame. There’s no words to describe their disgust and shame.

    “What the fuck is in the drink!” Michael shouted face flushed red. He figured there’s something wrong in the drink Stercomaster gave to them. That could be the only rational explanation for their behavior. Both cops glared at the hunky man who always wore an evil smile on his face.

    ” Officers, it’s just the feet sweat from my guards. Some of them tend to sweat more than you could imagine.” Stercomaster said leisurely. He picked up a rubber boot next to him and poured the sweat into his own cup and sipped, ” And of course, their socks worn for weeks without served as the base for you.”

    Both cops looked down, seeing the wet socks at the bottom of the cups.

    “You’re a fucking pervert!” Blake screeched but himself didn’t even realize that his tongue gave his lips a soft lick, and the taste began to regrow on him again.

    ” But it seems like you officers just want some more.” Stercomaster eyed their crotches up. Blake and Michael looked down and saw their wet crotch bulging up obscenely again.

    Stercomaster jumped on the table, turned around and tore off his pants, exposing his ass toward the two cops. “Come on, officer! Look at my big ass, you will love it even more than my feet.”

    Both cops felt their throat going dry, staring at Stercomaster’s giant ass, that swayed gently, emanating a pungent, sour stench that reeked of rotten shit. The odor was thick, almost tangible, wrapping around the cops like a suffocating fog.

    Stercomaster’s voice a low, seductive whisper: “Come, officers, take a sniff. Taste what you’ve never experienced before. You want it, don’t you?” His ass emanated a the stink that clawed at the senses, both repulsive and strangely alluring, mingled with the acrid tang.

    Both Michael and Blake furrowed their brows, resisting the temptation. But they still stared at Stercomaster’s huge ass. The huge ass was muscular yet looked soft. A thought emerged in the cops mind – they wondered how good it would feel, to rub their faces on the big asscheeks while sniffing and licking. Realizing their growing lust, both Michael and Blake knew they must get out right away.

    But then, they heard a loud fart from the ass. And the stench hit their noses immediately. It’s the worst stink they smelt so far, far more stinking than Stercomaster’s feet. For a moment, they froze. The fart odor was a vile, oppressive wave of raw sewage and decaying feces. They felt the fart smell clung to the back of their throats, a rancid, gut-churning stench that made their stomachs twist in hunger. With the overwhelming foulness, there was something inexplicably alluring, a dark, primal pull that beckoned them closer.

    Blake took a step closer, and Stercomaster’s ass wobbled with a grotesque rhythm, its stench growing denser with every movement.

    Michael’s face contorted in disgust, his nostrils flaring as he tried to resist the temptation. He turned to Blake, his voice uneasy, strained but urgent: “We need to get out of here. This isn’t right!!”

    But Blake’s eyes were glazed, his body swaying as if hypnotized. His mouth watered with the revolting stench, a deep, irrational craving taking hold of him. His steps dragging him toward the foul-smelling ass as if pulled by an invisible force.

    Just as Michael was to say something more, then came the second fart from Stercomaster, even louder and more vile than the first. ” Come, officers, sniff my fart, sniff my ass. This is what you both want, isn’t it?”

    Michael staggered back, his face pale, but Stercomaster’s voice, low and seductive, slithered into his mind: “Just one taste. You know you want to.” The smell, though revolting, seemed to wrap around him, pulling him back in. Michael’s body trembling as the noxious stench was inhaled deeply by him. He knew he must fight against his inner lust.

    The air grew heavy with the stench of overflowing latrines and decomposing waste, a suffocating miasma that seemed to seep into their pores. Michael shook out of the trance with all his mental strength and grabbed his partner’s arm, urgency in his tone: “Blake, fucking snap out of it!!”

    Blake, however, seemed deaf to reason. Stercomaster’s ass wobbled enticingly, its stench growing stronger, more intoxicating. Blake’s resolve crumbled. His hands shook, his mouth watered despite the overwhelming foulness, and his body moved as if no longer under his control.

    Blake’s face now inches from Stercomaster’s ass, his breath hitching as the smell of fart filled his lungs. His mouth was drooling. But eventually, before he got his hands on Stercomaster’s asscheeks, the cop held himself, as if holding onto the last straw of resistance.

    But then Stercomaster released the third fart. The stench that followed was unbearable. It’s a thick, choking cloud of raw excrement and putrid waste that made both men hungry. Blake could see clearly Stercomaster’s thick asslips opened as the minute-long fart continued its way out, blasting warmly on his face.

    With a final, shuddering gasp, Blake gave in. He leaned forward, his face inching closer to Stercomaster’s repulsive ass. The smell was unbearable, a putrid wave of decay and filth. The officer couldn’t stop himself. His nose brushed against the asscrack, and then, with a desperate and almost animalistic hunger, he buried his face into Stercomaster’s asscrack, the source of the vile stench.

    The moment his face made contact, the smell intensified, a rancid, choking miasma that seemed to seep into his very soul. Blake’s body convulsed in delirium. He inhaled deeply, his mind clouded by the pure stink. Stercomaster’s laughter echoed in his ears, low and mocking, as Blake succumbed completely, lost in the foul stink.

    Seeing his partner lost to the temptation, a chill ran down Michael’s spine. He wanted to drag Blake away as he saw Blake darted his tongue into Stercomaster’s filthy asscrack.

    ” Ahhh, fuck, I always want a cop to clean my stinking shit crack!!” Stercomaster said and rubbed his ass on Blake’s face. He turned his head and looked at Deputy Michael, ” Come Michael, join Blake, you want to, right? You also want to lick my hot ass!”

    Just then, the Deputy realized he’s already drooling copiously. Dripping saliva flew down his chin onto his lewdly wet bulging. The smell was unbearable, a crushing wave of filth that threatened to drown him. Michael almost leaned towards Stercomaster’s ass but he stopped himself in time. Knowing he couldn’t stay any longer and had to leave immediately, the Deputy turned and ran, leaving his partner behind as he heard the sound of a long wet squishy fart followed by Blake’s guttural climaxing growls echoing through the hall…

  • The Job Interview

    Ethan froze mid-stroke, his hand jerking away as if scalded. “No!” The refusal ripped out, raw and desperate. His hazel eyes snapped to the screen, wide with genuine panic. “Mr. Thorne, please… this is too far. I can’t—” His voice cracked, the flush on his tanned skin deepening to crimson. He instinctively angled his hips away, his powerful shoulders tensing defensively. “This isn’t… I won’t.”

    Thorne’s expression hardened instantly, the predatory satisfaction replaced by cold, implacable steel. He leaned forward, his sharp features filling Ethan’s screen. “You will,” he hissed, the veneer of civility utterly stripped away. “Or this ends. Right now. Your resume goes in the trash. Every application you’ve sent for the past six months? I’ll ensure they know exactly why you were rejected.” He paused, letting the threat sink in, his grey eyes boring into Ethan’s soul. “The choice is yours, Ethan. Finish the demonstration… or spend the next year explaining gaps in your employment history.” He leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers again, a silent, immovable wall of coercion.

    Ethan’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The desperate need for the job – the rent, the loans, the crushing weight of failure – crashed against the visceral horror of exposure. His hand hovered, trembling violently, over the straining black fabric. He squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, a tremor running through his powerful frame. Then, with a choked sound of utter defeat, he hooked trembling fingers into the opening of his fly. Thorne’s breath hitched audibly, a low, eager sound. The fabric gaped open slightly, revealing a strip of flushed skin and dark, coarse curls beneath. Finally, Ethan pulled the fabric completely aside. His cock sprang free, thick and achingly hard, straining upwards against his abdomen. It was long and substantial, flushed a deep, angry red from base to tip, the thick vein running along its underside pulsing visibly with each frantic heartbeat. The broad, mushroom-shaped head glistened obscenely under the harsh laptop light, slick with a thick bead of precum that pearled at the slit and clung, trembling, before threatening to drip onto the taut skin of his lower belly. It stood rigidly proud from the nest of dark curls, a stark, undeniable testament to the betrayal of his own body. Thorne released a low, appreciative groan, his grey eyes devouring the sight with naked hunger.

    Ethan stood frozen, exposed beyond comprehension. His sculpted torso gleamed with sweat, every defined muscle locked rigid with tension. Below, the thick shaft pulsed visibly, the glistening tip drawing Thorne’s rapt, unwavering gaze. The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing his chest, making the air feel thick and suffocating. He couldn’t look at the screen. He couldn’t look down. His hazel eyes stared blankly at the wall beyond his laptop, seeing nothing but the sheer, degrading reality of what he had just done.

    Thorne leaned forward until his sharp features dominated the screen, his ash-blond hair catching the light. His cool grey eyes were wide, pupils dilated, fixed intently on the rigid flesh Ethan had exposed. His breath hitched audibly, a sharp intake followed by a low, ragged exhale. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, the words barely more than a whisper crackling through the speakers. His gaze traveled the impressive length, lingering on the flushed, swollen head slick with precum. “How… how long is that?” His voice was thick, husky with disbelief and raw hunger.

    Ethan flinched, the question slicing through the numb horror. His throat tightened. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered, the words thick and clumsy. His voice cracked.

    “Bullshit,” Thorne snapped instantly, leaning back slightly, his grey eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion and command. The predatory intensity sharpened. “You know. Every man knows. Tell me. Now.” His tone brooked no evasion, the professional mask completely dissolved into naked coercion.

    The desperate need for the job warred violently with the utter degradation. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, his powerful shoulders slumping infinitesimally. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the silent room. His voice, when it came, was a raw, defeated whisper, thick with shame. “Eight… eight and a half inches.” The admission hung in the air, obscene and final. He kept his gaze averted, unable to bear Thorne’s reaction to the truth laid bare.

    A sharp, triumphant bark of laughter exploded through the speakers, startlingly loud. Thorne threw his head back, ash-blond hair catching the light, his sharp features contorted in pure, unadulterated elation. “Eight and a half!” he crowed, slapping a hand down on his polished desk. The sound echoed harshly in Ethan’s silent apartment. “God damn, Drummond! That’s… that’s exceptional.” His grey eyes snapped back to the screen, blazing with predatory hunger, utterly captivated by the thick, flushed shaft straining upwards against Ethan’s abdomen. “But don’t be stingy. Show me everything. Pull those balls out through the fly too. Let’s see the whole impressive package.” His voice was thick with command and anticipation.

    Ethan flinched as if struck. His trembling hand, slick with nervous sweat, returned to the gaping fly. With clumsy, jerky movements, he hooked trembling fingers deeper into the opening in the tight black briefs. He tugged downwards and sideways, pulling the fabric wider. Finally, the heavy, low-hanging sac emerged, thick-skinned and taut, pulled tight by the rigid shaft above. His testicles were substantial, full and pendulous, hanging heavy beneath the base of his cock, the skin flushed a deep pink and drawn smooth by the tension. They swung slightly with the movement. Ethan’s eyes focused on the straining erection. The thick shaft pulsed visibly, the broad, slick head glistening obscenely under the harsh laptop light, a thick bead of precum trembling at the slit. Below, the heavy balls hung low and full, completing the brutally exposed tableau against the backdrop of Ethan’s sweat-slicked, sculpted abdomen and powerful thighs.

    Thorne leaned impossibly closer to his camera, his face dominating the screen, his cool grey eyes wide and utterly fixated. A low, appreciative groan escaped him. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word thick with reverence and lust. “Look at that… magnificent.” Ethan stood rigidly exposed, every defined muscle in his torso locked tight, trembling faintly. Sweat traced paths down the ridges of his abdomen, dripping onto the hardwood floor. His powerful thighs, thickly corded with muscle beneath the briefs, quivered with the strain of maintaining his stance and the sheer, overwhelming humiliation. He stared blankly past the laptop, his clean-shaven jaw clenched so tight it ached, his hazel eyes burning with unshed tears of utter violation. The dark curls spilled over the stretched waistband, the thick cock jutting obscenely, the heavy balls hanging vulnerably – a complete, degrading display commanded by the man on the screen. Thorne’s rapt gaze devoured every inch.

    “Stroke it,” Thorne commanded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that crackled with intensity through the speakers. His grey eyes burned with hunger. “Slowly. Use your whole hand. Show me how it feels.” Ethan flinched, a tremor shaking his powerful frame. His gaze remained fixed on the wall, refusing to meet Thorne’s eyes. Slowly, mechanically, his trembling hand moved. His fingers, slick with sweat, wrapped around the thick base. The skin was hot, impossibly hard beneath his palm. He squeezed involuntarily, a choked gasp escaping his lips as sensation ripped through him. He began to move his hand upwards in a slow, deliberate glide, the foreskin pulling taut over the swollen crown. Precum slicked the path, easing the motion. Thorne’s breath hitched audibly. “Yes,” he hissed, leaning forward until his forehead almost touched his own screen. “Just like that.”

    Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. The physical sensation was overwhelming, a raw, electric current that drowned out the horror for fleeting moments. His body betrayed him utterly. The slow drag of his calloused palm over the sensitive underside, the way his thumb brushed the slick, swollen head on each upstroke – it sent shockwaves through his nervous system. His powerful chest heaved with ragged breaths. A low groan, deep and involuntary, rumbled in his throat as his hips thrust forward slightly into his own grip, seeking more friction. The shame was a distant echo beneath the roaring tide of biological imperative. Hormones screamed, his body responding with primal intensity to the relentless stimulation, his mind momentarily adrift in the purely physical feedback loop.

    He moaned. The sound was low, guttural, and utterly genuine – a raw expression of pleasure ripped from him despite himself. His hand moved faster now, no longer hesitant but driven by the fierce ache building in his groin. His head tipped back slightly, exposing the strong column of his sweat-slicked throat. His hips rocked rhythmically into his fist, the powerful muscles of his abdomen and thighs flexing with each thrust. The laptop screen, Thorne’s rapt face, the violation – it all blurred into a haze. For a few desperate, agonizing seconds, Ethan Drummond was lost in the sensation, his body hurtling towards release, the job, the shame, the predator on the screen momentarily forgotten in the blinding, animal need.

    “Stop.” Thorne’s command sliced through the heavy air, sharp as broken glass. It wasn’t loud, but it carried the chilling weight of absolute authority. Ethan froze mid-stroke, his hand tightening convulsively around his slick shaft. The abrupt cessation was a physical shock. Reality crashed back in like icy water. He gasped, his eyes flying open, wide and disoriented, locking instantly onto Thorne’s face dominating the screen. The interviewer’s expression was no longer rapturous hunger; it was cold calculation, a predator assessing captured prey. Grey eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing. The flush of arousal on Ethan’s sculpted chest deepened into a crimson wave of pure, suffocating humiliation. He stood exposed, trembling, his cock still achingly hard and glistening in his fist, the heavy sac drawn tight beneath it.

    “Enough,” Thorne stated, his voice flat, devoid of the earlier husky intensity. He leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers again, a picture of regained control. His gaze traveled deliberately down Ethan’s sweat-streaked torso, lingering on the straining black briefs framing the obscene display. “Those,” he flicked a dismissive finger towards the screen, “are redundant now. Remove them. Completely.” The command was chillingly casual, delivered with the finality of a judge passing sentence. “I want nothing obstructing the view.”

    Ethan’s breath hitched. His hand fell away from his erection as if burned. He stared at Thorne, a silent plea trapped in his burning hazel eyes. Thorne merely raised an eyebrow, a silent, immovable reminder of the power he held. Despair, cold and absolute, washed over Ethan. With trembling fingers slick with sweat and precum, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of the black briefs. He pushed down, the fabric catching momentarily on the thick swell of his hips before sliding over the powerful curve of his ass. They pooled around his ankles, a dark puddle on the pale hardwood floor. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside with a bare foot. He stood utterly naked now: six feet of sculpted muscle gleaming under the harsh laptop light, sweat tracing paths down his defined chest and abdomen, his thick cock jutting proudly, flushed and slick, the heavy testicles hanging vulnerably beneath. The air felt frigid against his exposed skin. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to lift his eyes to the screen and the man who owned this moment of utter degradation. Thorne’s satisfied silence was louder than any words.

    “Turn around,” Thorne commanded, his voice low and thick with anticipation. Ethan flinched but obeyed, pivoting slowly on bare feet. The powerful muscles of his back shifted beneath taut skin – the broad sweep of his latissimus dorsi framing his spine, the deep groove running down to his narrow waist, the defined ridges of his erector spinae muscles flanking his spine like twin columns. Below, his ass was a masterpiece of disciplined training: two firm, high globes of muscle, perfectly rounded and separated by a deep, shadowed cleft. The skin there was smooth, unblemished, and slightly paler than his tanned back. Thorne inhaled sharply. “Christ,” he breathed, the word laden with raw appreciation. “Look at that.” His grey eyes devoured the sculpted curves, the way the powerful glutes tightened subtly as Ethan shifted his weight. “Magnificent musculature, Ethan. Truly.” The praise was a violation in itself.

    “Now,” Thorne continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper charged with command. “Bend over. Spread those cheeks wide. Show me everything.” Ethan froze. A choked sound escaped him. The humiliation intensified, a crushing weight centered low in his belly. Slowly, trembling violently, he bent forward at the waist. His powerful back arched, the defined muscles stretching taut. He reached back with shaking hands, fingers sinking into the firm flesh of his own ass cheeks. With a shuddering breath that felt like tearing flesh, he pulled them apart. The chilly air of the apartment rushed against his exposed anus, a shocking, intimate sensation that made him gasp sharply. His hole, a tight pink pucker nestled within a dusting of dark hair, clenched involuntarily against the sudden exposure. The vulnerability was absolute, laid bare for Thorne’s hungry gaze.

    Thorne released a low, ragged groan of pure lust. “Yes,” he hissed, leaning forward until his face filled Ethan’s screen. His grey eyes were wide, pupils blown black, utterly fixated on the exposed vulnerability. “Perfect.” Ethan trembled, bent over, hands gripping his own flesh, feeling the icy air kiss his most private opening. Thorne’s rapt silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the harsh rasp of Ethan’s own panicked breathing and the faint hum of the laptop fan. The chill intensified the sensation, making his hole twitch involuntarily again, a tiny, humiliating pulse under Thorne’s relentless scrutiny. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the next command, knowing it would come, knowing he would obey. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the floor between his spread feet.

    “Finger,” Thorne commanded abruptly, his voice thick and rough. “Put your finger in your mouth. Coat it thoroughly.” Ethan froze mid-tremor. The implication slammed into him like a physical blow. His eyes snapped open, staring blindly at the hardwood grain beneath him. A choked sound escaped his throat. He couldn’t. He physically couldn’t move his hands from where they held his cheeks apart. Thorne growled, “Now, Ethan. Or this ends poorly for you.” Desperation warred with utter revulsion. Slowly, shaking violently, Ethan released his right cheek. He brought his trembling hand up towards his face, fingers slick with sweat. He hesitated, staring at his own fingers inches from his lips. Thorne’s impatient silence crackled through the speakers. With a shuddering gasp, Ethan shoved his index finger deep into his mouth, tasting salt and panic.

    He sucked hard, coating the finger thickly in saliva, the act itself feeling grotesquely intimate under Thorne’s gaze. He pulled it out, glistening wetly. Thorne’s breath hitched audibly. “Good,” he purred, a dark satisfaction in his tone. “Now… use it. Finger yourself. Slowly. Deep.” Ethan’s stomach lurched. He stared at his own wet finger, hovering near the exposed cleft. The humiliation was absolute. He’d stripped, bent over, spread himself… but this? This felt like the final, irrevocable violation. He hesitated, his powerful frame locked rigid with horror. Thorne’s voice snapped like a whip. “Do it, Ethan! Show me how accommodating you can be!” A ragged sob tore from Ethan’s throat. He squeezed his eyes shut again, blocking out the screen, the room, everything but the crushing weight of necessity. His trembling finger pressed against his tight opening. The cold, wet touch against the sensitive ring of muscle made him gasp sharply. He pushed inward, a burning stretch against resistance.

    The intrusion was shocking, alien. Ethan whimpered, his finger sinking slowly past the tight sphincter, coated in his own spit. The sensation was intensely intimate, violating, amplified a thousandfold by Thorne’s rapt, unseen gaze. He pushed deeper, feeling the slick slide inside himself, the involuntary clench of his muscles around the invading digit. Thorne released a low, appreciative groan. “Deeper,” he commanded hoarsely. Ethan obeyed, burying his finger to the knuckle inside his own body, a shudder wracking his frame. He remained bent, trembling, finger buried deep, utterly exposed and degraded, the laptop camera capturing every detail for Eric Thorne’s hungry, triumphant eyes. The silence stretched, thick with the violation and the soft, wet sound of Ethan’s own ragged breathing.

    Thorne leaned forward, his grey eyes blazing with predatory intensity. “Another,” he demanded, his voice rough and thick with undisguised lust. “Add another finger. Now.” The command sliced through Ethan’s haze of humiliation. A choked gasp escaped him. He hesitated, his hand trembling violently near his exposed opening, his index finger still buried deep inside himself. The thought of stretching himself wider, deliberately, under Thorne’s command, was a fresh wave of horror. Thorne’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do it!” he snapped, the threat implicit. “Or the job offer vanishes.” Despair choked Ethan. With a ragged sob, he pulled his slick finger out slowly, the sensation making him gasp again. He shoved his middle finger into his mouth, coating it thickly with saliva, tasting salt and panic.

    Trembling uncontrollably, Ethan positioned his two glistening fingers against his tight, pink opening. He pressed inward, the resistance immediate and fierce. He whimpered, pushing harder, feeling the burning stretch intensify as the second finger forced its way alongside the first. The sensation was sharp, overwhelming – a deep, internal violation he could feel radiating through his pelvis. He pushed deeper, knuckles straining against the resistant ring of muscle, burying both fingers inside himself. A low moan tore from his throat, a mixture of pain, unwanted sensation, and utter degradation. He stayed bent, legs shaking, fingers thrust deep into his own body, presenting himself completely for Thorne’s appraisal. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the floor between his spread feet.

    Thorne watched, utterly absorbed. His breath came in short, sharp pants. “Move them,” he ordered, his voice thick. “Slowly. In and out.” Ethan obeyed, mechanically, dragging his slick fingers slowly out until just the tips remained, then pushing them back in deep. The wet slide echoed obscenely in the silent room. Each withdrawal and penetration was a fresh humiliation, a performance forced upon him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to detach, but the physical sensations were relentless: the stretch, the friction, the cold air hitting his exposed hole each time he withdrew. Thorne groaned again, a sound of pure, predatory satisfaction. “Yes,” he hissed. “Just like that. Show me how much of a team player you really are.” Ethan continued the agonizing rhythm, fingers pistoning slowly in and out of himself, trapped in a nightmare commanded by the man on the screen.

    “Enough,” Thorne commanded abruptly, breaking the rhythm. Ethan froze instantly, fingers buried deep. “Turn around,” Thorne ordered, his voice regaining a chilling calm. “Face me.” Relief warred with dread. Ethan pulled his fingers out slowly, a shudder wracking his frame at the sudden emptiness. He straightened slowly, the powerful muscles in his back protesting the awkward posture. He pivoted on bare feet, turning his naked body back towards the laptop camera. To his surprise, his cock was harder than ever, pulsing wildly and straining toward the ceiling. His thick cock, slick with precum, jutted obscenely against his abdomen. Thorne’s grey eyes swept over him with undisguised ownership. “Sit back down,” Thorne instructed coolly. “In your chair.”

    Ethan moved stiffly, like a puppet on frayed strings. He lowered himself onto the leather desk chair, the cool surface a shock against his heated skin. He sat rigidly upright, his powerful thighs pressed together, instinctively trying to shield himself despite the utter exposure. Thorne’s sharp gaze missed nothing. “No,” he stated flatly. “Legs up. On the desk.” Ethan froze, staring at the screen, disbelief warring with the crushing inevitability. Thorne leaned forward, his face filling the frame. “Do it, Ethan. Show me everything. Your dedication hinges on it.” Despair settled like lead in Ethan’s gut. With trembling hands slick with sweat and spit, he gripped the powerful muscles of his thighs. Slowly, shaking violently, he lifted his legs, bending at the knees. He brought his bare feet up onto the polished surface of his desk, planting his heels firmly on the wood. He spread his knees wide apart, forcing his powerful thighs open.

    The position was brutally exposing. Ethan leaned back slightly in the chair, his legs spread wide on the desk, knees bent upwards. His thick, flushed cock lay rigid against his lower abdomen, the broad head glistening obscenely. Below, his heavy balls hung vulnerable against the cool leather seat. And between his spread thighs, framed by the powerful muscles of his inner thighs, his pink, slightly gaping hole was fully visible to the camera – still slick and glistening faintly from his own saliva. He stared blankly past the laptop, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, every defined muscle in his torso locked tight with tension and shame. The vulnerability was absolute, laid bare for Thorne’s hungry, triumphant gaze. Thorne inhaled sharply, a low, appreciative hum vibrating through the speakers. “Perfect,” he breathed, his grey eyes fixed unblinkingly on the exposed intimacy.

    Thorne leaned impossibly closer to his camera, his sharp features dominating Ethan’s screen. His grey eyes burned with intensity. “Use your fingers again,” he commanded, his voice thick and rough with undisguised lust. “Both of them. Coat them thoroughly in your mouth first.” Ethan flinched, a tremor shaking his frame. He hesitated, his gaze still averted. Thorne’s voice snapped like a whip. “Now, Ethan!” Desperation choked him. Slowly, trembling violently, Ethan raised his right hand towards his face. He shoved his index and middle fingers deep into his mouth, sucking hard, coating them thickly in saliva. The taste of salt filled his mouth. He pulled them out, glistening wetly. Thorne’s breath hitched audibly. “Good,” he purred, a dark satisfaction saturating his tone. “Now… put them back in. Deep. And fuck yourself with them.”

    Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. His slick fingers hovered near his exposed opening. He pressed inward, feeling the tight resistance yield as the wet tips breached the sensitive ring of muscle. A choked gasp escaped him as he pushed deeper, burying both fingers knuckle-deep inside himself again. The stretch burned, the intrusion violating. Thorne groaned, a sound of pure, satisfaction. “Yes… deeper,” he hissed. “Now… move them. In and out. Harder.” Ethan obeyed mechanically, his fingers pistoning slowly at first, then faster, driven by Thorne’s command. The wet, rhythmic sound of his fingers plunging in and out of his own body filled the silent room, amplified by the laptop speakers. Each withdrawal pulled his slick hole open wider; each penetration drove a shudder through his powerful frame. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto his heaving chest.

    “Now touch yourself,” Thorne commanded abruptly, his voice thick and urgent. “Stroke that magnificent cock while you fuck yourself. Show me how much you want this job.” Ethan froze mid-thrust, fingers buried deep. A choked sob tore from his throat. He couldn’t look. He couldn’t think. Slowly, trembling violently, his left hand moved. His fingers, slick with sweat, wrapped around the thick, rigid base of his cock. The heat, the impossible hardness beneath his palm, sent a jolt of unwelcome sensation through him. He squeezed involuntarily, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest. He began to stroke upwards in a slow, deliberate glide, his foreskin pulling taut over the swollen, slick head. Precum eased the motion. Simultaneously, his right hand kept plunging his fingers deep inside himself, the dual sensations – violation and stimulation – warring violently within him. Thorne’s rapturous groan echoed through the speakers. “Yes! Just like that! Faster!”

    His body betrayed him utterly. The slow drag of his calloused palm over his sensitive shaft, the rhythmic clench and release around his invading fingers – it created a raw, electric feedback loop he couldn’t control. His hips bucked forward slightly into his fist, seeking more friction. A deep, involuntary moan ripped from his throat as pleasure surged, fierce and undeniable, beneath the crushing weight of degradation. His hand moved faster on his cock, pumping roughly. His fingers pistoned harder, deeper inside himself, the wet, obscene sounds filling the air. His powerful thighs trembled violently against the desk surface. His head tipped back, exposing the sweat-slicked column of his throat, eyes squeezed shut against the horror, lost in the primal, unstoppable tide rising within him. Thorne watched, utterly rapt, his grey eyes devouring every twitch, every gasp, every bead of sweat tracing the defined planes of Ethan’s shuddering body as he obeyed the final, degrading command.

    Then, Ethan’s knuckles pressed deep, grinding against something intensely sensitive inside him. A sharp, blinding jolt of pure pleasure exploded through his pelvis, radiating outwards like liquid fire. His eyes flew wide, a choked cry of pure ecstasy escaping him. Thorne vanished. The screen, the job, the threat – it all dissolved into white noise. There was only the desperate, driving need for more. His fingers curled, seeking that spot again, pressing hard. Another wave crashed over him, stronger this time, making his cock throb violently in his fist. He cried out, raw and unrestrained, his hips jerking wildly. He fucked himself onto his fingers with abandon, driving them deep, grinding relentlessly against the swollen bundle of nerves. His other hand became a blur on his shaft, stroking furiously, twisting roughly over the slick, swollen head. The world narrowed to the frantic rhythm of his hands, the blinding bursts of pleasure deep inside, the thick heat building unbearably in his groin. Sweat poured down his heaving chest and trembling abdomen.

    He hit it again, harder. A guttural roar tore from him. His powerful body arched violently in the chair, muscles locking rigid. His balls drew impossibly tight against his body. The thick shaft in his hand pulsed like a live wire, impossibly hard. He was a piston – fingers plunging deep, palm sliding rough and fast over slick skin – consumed by a frantic, animalistic drive for release. The rhythmic slap of his hand and the wet squelch of his fingers inside himself were the only sounds he registered. He panted, ragged breaths tearing from his lungs, face contorted in agonized ecstasy. He was lost, utterly consumed by the physical sensation, chasing the blinding peak with desperate, brutal strokes.

    His body was a sculpture of taut desperation. Every defined muscle in his torso stood out in sharp relief, locked rigid by the force of his arch. Sweat poured down the carved ridges of his abdomen, tracing paths through the dusting of dark hair below his navel, dripping onto the strained leather seat beneath him. His thick, powerful thighs trembled violently against the polished desk surface where his bare feet were planted wide. His massive cock, slick and flushed deep crimson, strained rigidly upwards against his abdomen. The broad, mushroom-shaped head glistened obscenely under the harsh laptop light, coated in thick precum that smeared down the shaft with each furious stroke of his fist. Below, his heavy balls, pulled tight and high against his body, pulsed visibly with the frantic rhythm of his impending climax.

    He was suspended on the knife-edge. His knuckles ground deep inside him, pressing relentlessly against that swollen nerve cluster. His fist became a blur on his shaft, twisting brutally over the slick head on each upstroke. His hips bucked wildly, driving himself deeper onto his fingers, seeking more friction, more pressure. A high, keening whine escaped his clenched teeth. His vision blurred, tunneling. Every muscle fiber screamed with tension. The heat in his groin was unbearable, a supernova building pressure, threatening to erupt. He was seconds away, body coiled like a spring, utterly beyond thought, beyond shame, beyond anything but the raw, blinding need to come.

    His knuckles slammed home. A guttural roar ripped from his throat, raw and primal. His powerful body arched violently off the chair, every defined muscle locking rigid – abdomen, chest, thighs, shoulders – a sculpture of taut agony and ecstasy. His balls drew impossibly tight against his body. The thick shaft in his fist pulsed like a hammer blow, impossibly hard. The first jet exploded violently – a thick, pearly-white rope that shot upwards with shocking force. It arced high, splattering hot and wet across his own sweat-slicked jawline and chin, clinging thickly. Before he could gasp, the second blast erupted, thicker, hotter, painting a thick streak across his heaving chest, catching the ridge of his left pec and dripping obscenely down the defined plane towards his nipple. His fingers plunged deeper inside himself, spasming uncontrollably as wave after wave tore through him.

    The third eruption was a torrent. Thick, viscous streams erupted in rapid succession, pulsing violently from the swollen slit. Ropes lashed his abdomen, painting thick, white stripes across the ridges of his abs, pooling in the shallow valley of his navel. Another thick blast hit his collarbone, splattering upwards onto his throat. His head snapped back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream as his body convulsed. Cum sprayed wildly – hitting his inner thighs, his trembling hand still pumping his shaft, the desk surface near his spread feet. His hole clenched violently around his buried fingers, spasming in time with each explosive pulse, milking the sensation deeper. The sheer volume was shocking; thick ropes painting his torso in obscene streaks, dripping down the trembling muscles of his abdomen, pooling in the crease of his groin where his cock still jerked violently in his fist.

    Finally, the brutal convulsions subsided. His body slumped back into the chair, boneless, trembling violently. His chest heaved with ragged, gasping breaths. Thick ropes of pearly cum coated his face – jaw, chin, smeared across his cheekbone, and coating one lense of his glasses. More plastered his chest and abdomen in thick, cooling streaks, dripping slowly onto his thighs and the leather seat. His cock lay spent against his belly, still thick and flushed, glistening obscenely. His fingers remained buried deep inside his clenching hole, slick with his own saliva and the aftermath of his violent climax. The silence was deafening, broken only by his harsh panting and the faint hum of the laptop fan. Across the screen, Eric Thorne watched, utterly still, his grey eyes wide and gleaming with rapt, triumphant satisfaction. A slow smile spread across Thorne’s sharp features. “Impressive,” he breathed, the word thick with undisguised admiration and control. “Truly… exceptional dedication.”

    Ethan shuddered, a wave of nausea crashing over him as the blinding haze of orgasm receded. He pulled his fingers free slowly, a sharp gasp escaping him at the sensation. He stared blankly at his trembling, slick hand, then down at the obscene mess coating his torso. He slowly lowered his trembling legs from the desk, the cool air hitting his exposed groin making him flinch. He slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, his powerful shoulders hunched. He dragged a trembling hand across his sticky jaw, smearing the cooling mess.

    He forced himself to lift his head, his hazel eyes burning with exhaustion. He met Thorne’s grey gaze on the screen. The interviewer’s expression was calm now, composed, the hunger replaced by a chillingly professional satisfaction. “Mr. Thorne,” Ethan rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. He cleared his throat, the sound thick. “What… what happens now?” The question hung in the air, heavy with desperation.

    Thorne leaned back in his own leather chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. A slow, deliberate smile touched his lips. “What happens now, Ethan?” he echoed, his voice smooth, confident, utterly in control. “Now, you get the job.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “The position is yours. Strategic Development Analyst. Starting salary, one-fifty, plus bonuses and full benefits.” Thorne’s grey eyes locked onto Ethan’s, holding him captive. “Effective immediately.” A flicker of pure, unadulterated elation surged through Ethan’s exhaustion, momentarily eclipsing the shame. Relief, sharp and dizzying, washed over him. The job. He had the job. The crushing weight of debt, the fear of failure – lifted. A choked sound, half-sob, half-laugh, escaped him. He stared at Thorne, unable to speak.


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  • The Jade Cock Ring

    When his Uber pulled up to the rundown building with bamboo scaffolding all around it, Ash almost hesitated to go in—almost.

    It was Christmas Day and Ash’s last morning in Hong Kong. He’d spent the entire week with his family and barely had time to jerk off…which was to say he woke up with a raging boner and a full set of nuts—so full, in fact, he thought he could feel his backed up spunk just protesting to bust itself out…

    Don’t get him wrong—Grindr had been practically blowing up ever since Ash landed. He guessed a young, white alpha top stud like him was hot commodity around here…but Ash was sort of in the mood for something else, because all the walking around and trying to make conversation with his parents and sister made him tired, and he just felt like lying back, having some guy oil him up, and worshiping every inch of his college jock body—before being made to shoot a big, fat, satisfying load, of course.

    The guy in question, however, was a full head shorter than Ash as he answered the door, with thick black eyebrows and small eyes.

    “Hi,” the dude smiled cordially at the young foreign buck who hit him up just over an hour ago on Instagram and asked to meet right away.

    “Hi,” Ash greeted him back, averting his gaze, and for a second couldn’t believe he actually turned down a good ol’ fuck with a delicious-looking local muscle twunk to be rubbed down by some Asian uncle, perhaps already in his forties… He had just done a simple search for “man to man massage hk,” and most of the results seemed sketchy and potentially rip-offs, which was when he came across this guy’s Instagram profile, with tasteful pictures of his “studio” and a highlight full of glowing reviews by supposedly satisfied customers.

    As he’d mentioned, Ash was desperate that morning, so he DM’ed…

    “Would you like to take a shower first?” The guy now asked, looking Ash up and down, though thankfully not in a leery way, just probably also wondering why a guy like Ash was doing here.

    Ash had already showered in the hotel before heading out and texting his mom that he’d be going out for a stroll, but it seemed rude to say no at this juncture. He looked around: the “studio” was most likely just this guy’s apartment, and it appeared smaller than it did in photos, with the massage table square in the middle of the living area. The bathroom was worse—Ash could barely turn his massive six-foot-three frame around—so he splashed some water on himself haphazardly and went back out, leaving all his clothes behind with just a towel around his waist.

    “Uh, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be all naked,” Ash said as he reemerged from the tiny bathroom maybe sooner than his masseur had expected.

    Nonetheless, the guy looked all set: even if it were broad daylight out, he had managed to make the room dark enough, with flickering candlelight and the smell of incense wafting through the space. He himself had taken off his top, revealing a lean, mean physique that made Ash think of a kung fu master, or was that racist?

    “Yes, that’s alright,” he smiled that cordial smile at Ash again, and patted the massage table gently: “Just make yourself comfortable.”

    Reassured, Ash loosened the towel around his waist and caught the older guy steal a glance at what had been concealed underneath—the swinging, bigheaded, circumcised thing Ash had for a cock, an impressive sight even though it was still limp.

    “Facedown?” 

    The uncle master nodded.

    It started out wholesomely enough and Ash began to believe the reviews on Instagram—the man had a nice, firm touch, and only as he pressed and kneaded his way all around Ash’s neck, shoulders, spine…did the young tourist realize how tense he’d been and how much he needed to just relax… His thoughts started to drift, hoping at first that his coach was not going to give him too much shit for having put on a few pounds over the holidays, then thinking about the new season ahead. Could he finally break sixty-five meters in the javelin? The World Championships were going to be in September, in Tokyo, which meant he’d be back in Asia, and hopefully then he’d have time to steal away and meet some nice, eager Japanese bottom boy…

    It was then that Ash suddenly felt a finger or two brush past his cock head. It felt accidental, but it kept happening: every time the masseur pushed his oily palms up Ash’s hardened hamstrings, he seemed to make a point to also tickle Ash’s dick on his way back down, and being in the state that Ash was in, he was nursing a raging hard-on in no time, just like how he woke up…

    “Ugh…” Ash let out a small moan at some point—he couldn’t help it. He was really horny as hell.

    Then, it was just as well that the masseur chose this precise moment to instruct his client: “Ok, you can turn over now…”

    Ash swallowed nervously. He didn’t want the guy to see he was so turned-on already, because what if it wasn’t that kind of massage after all?

    But there was no other way around it, so Ash slowly maneuvered his big frame over, and when the masseur replaced the towel over his groin, there was no denying to either of them what was going on.

    “Sorry…” Ash mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow hot, even as his enormous erection gave an excited, clearly visible twitch under the towel.

    “Oh, that’s ok…” The masseur replied, as if it were the most common occurrence—or maybe it actually was, in this “studio”…

    The ineluctable evidence of Ash’s arousal was sidelined for the moment being, as the masseur proceeded business-as-usual, polishing up the broad slabs Ash had for pecs and his pale, blushing nipples that were almost the same color as the rest of him.

    “You have such a nice body…” the masseur suddenly remarked.

    “Thanks…” Ash muttered. His pulse began to race, for he sensed things taking a turn—a turn he wanted.

    “You go to gym a lot?” The masseur pressed on.

    “Yeah, but mostly for training.” Ash gave a half-answer.

    “Oh?” But that piqued his masseur’s curiosity. As he kept moving his oily palms over Ash’s pink nipples, which were not insensitive, he continued probing: “Training for…”

    “Ugh, the decathlon…” Ash fessed up with bated breath—it was as if his nipples had some unseen connection to his cock, and the more the masseur teased his upper body, the more enthusiastically his lower body responded, quite literally aching to have its own turn to be caressed and handled…

    “I see…” the masseur pretended he didn’t see Ash’s throbbing manhood rearing its head beneath the towel. “Wow, no wonder…”

    Ash couldn’t take it anymore, and thought the masseur ought to stop acting like he wasn’t there to make horny bastards like Ash nut their brains out, so he decided to take matters into his own hands: He simply tugged at one corner of the towel, and the thing dropped to the floor, forcing the masseur to come face to face with his young Western client’s big white schlong, which, apparently, had been leaking pre-cum that now formed a little sticky strand from Ash’s piss slit to the spot right below his navel…

    The masseur glanced at Ash’s cock then at him, and Ash looked him back right in the eye—he hated being this desperate and pathetic, but he was also confident that the dude would know exactly what to do…

    “You want me to…” The masseur gestured at Ash’s leaky tool and didn’t finish his sentence.

    Ash merely nodded.

    The masseur then walked around to the side of the massage table—to Ash’s right—and rubbed his hands together ceremoniously, as if warming himself up for the job.

    “Fuck…” Ash gasped as the man finally wrapped one greasy hand around his circumcised dome, and tugged on his nut sac with the other.

    “Big cock…” The masseur exclaimed under his breath as he commenced stroking Ash’s stiff prick, easing into a steady rhythm.

    But Ash wanted more, so he commanded the guy: “Put both hands on it… Yeah just like that…”

    Not only did the masseur know his way around wearied jock muscles, but he evidently also knew his way around a cock—he was performing all sorts of tricks on Ash, from good old-fashioned jerking with one hand on top of another, back-handed tugs with one hand around the base, to the “endless tunnel” where one hand continuously replaced the other in a single direction, and the “fire starter” where the cock head was squeezed and rubbed rapidly…

    Ash’s favorite though, was when the guy bent his cock forward until it would go no further, and just let it snap back onto Ash’s tummy with a nasty, heavy splat… He did that over and over, until Ash could feel the sweet pressure to blow mount inside him.

    “Ugh, you’re getting me close…” Ash announced, with his hands thrown behind his head just watching his massive dong get played with.

    “You want to cum?” The masseur asked, more eagerly than he should have, as if he were the one about to shoot a load.

    “Yeah but kinda no…” Ash didn’t know what he was saying anymore—like of course he wanted to finally bust everywhere after a full week of abstinence, but at the same time he was being serviced so nicely that he didn’t want it to be over so soon…

    The masseur sensed his ambivalence.

    “Here…” He set down Ash’s cock gingerly for a minute, like it was a particularly expensive piece of machinery, and from a nearby drawer produced a jade hoop—too big to be a ring, but just a tad too small to be a bangle, so there was really only one place it could go on…

    “Let me show you this…” The masseur said as he fit the thing around the base of Ash’s shaft and around his balls, which was blushing in the same lovely pink shade as his nipples. 

    “What does it do?” It wasn’t as if Ash didn’t know what a cock ring was, but he had a distinct feeling that this one was special, with something to do with Chinese tai chi or some other oriental bull—in fact, he already felt different, like the jade ring was somehow stemming the flow of energy inside him, so that even he was just as turned-on as, if not more than, before, now he didn’t feel so pressured to shoot his spunk immediately.

    “It helps you control your chi…” The masseur explained.

    “Yeah, I can feel it…” Ash didn’t know what the fuck chi was, but he got the gist. See? He was right, the dude was some kind of kung fu master after all.

    “And take this…” The masseur held out a little brown snuffbox-type trinket.

    “Is that poppers?”

    “No,” the masseur chuckled: “It’s better…”

    Ash should probably not take strange Chinese drugs in a strange Chinese man’s home, but he was feeling adventurous and, above all, too aroused to think straight; so, just like he would poppers, he pressed one nostril shut and inhaled from the snuffbox—

    “Whoa…” 

    At first Ash felt a little light in the head and all warm and fuzzy, but then it really hit: everything came into focus and all his chakra and chi or whatever the hell it was inside him went straight to his cock and stayed concentrated there, so that he became so hard it almost hurt.

    “How do you feel?” The masseur asked.

    “Like…” Ash considered it briefly before deciding: “Like I wanna fuck something, Jesus…”

    Once again the masseur chuckled: “Yes, you look like the type who likes to fuck…”

    With that, the masseur dropped his pants, down to a black jock strap that fit him snugly, and before Ash knew it, he had hopped up nimbly onto the massage table and was straddling him over his loins.

    “You want to fuck me?” The way it was put forth to Ash was so direct as to be slightly comical, and the guy was at least fifteen years outside of Ash’s preferred age bracket—but Ash was under the dual influence of the jade cock ring and whatever he just inhaled, not to mention the dude did have a nice rack for his age, and so Ash nodded, stupidly.

    Supporting himself with one hand only, the masseur lowered himself onto Ash’s oil-slick fuck-piston, which was when Ash saw the guy’s eyes roll back and his mouth hang agape as he gasped, “Ah, you’re big…”

    “It’s in though…” Ash egged him on, watching the progress, all agog. “Yeah, just keep going…”

    “Ooh!”

    The two guys let out a simultaneous moan of both surprise and relief when the masseur eventually sat himself all the down on Ash’s bona fide meat train. The guy was tight for his age—almost as tight as the Asian bottom twinks that Ash had a penchant for.

    “C’mon, ride that cock!” Ash commanded, and the other man did not need to be told twice before he began to undulate his hips, pulling himself partway off Ash’s cock before slide-slamming it back in to the hilt, over and over, until the rim of his hole creamed up.

    “Fuck! Looking at you creaming my cock!” Ash exclaimed. Being ridden was nice, but now Ash truly wanted to just fuck, so he sat up, climbed off the massage table, rotated his fuck-toy-du-jour ninety degrees, and pointed his fat-rimmed mushroom head at the guy’s winking, creamy pucker.

    “You want my cock inside you?” Ash asked, though he already knew the answer.

    “Yeah, put it inside me…” The masseur concurred with an ugly scowl on his face.

    “Alright, let’s see how well you can take it…” Ash mumbled as he dipped himself back into his slot, and burst into a quick fit of athletic thrusts that made the old geezer whimper like a girl.

    “Yeah, you like white cock?”

    All Ash could hear was his thighs slapping against the masseur’s ass and the dude’s painful but pleased whinnies, but he wanted an answer.

    “Look at me,” Ash thus demanded: “You like this big white cock in your ass?”

    “Yes, I do…” The masseur finally nodded and replied. “I love it…”

    “Alright, I’m gonna breed you now…” Ash announced—he wasn’t asking for permission, rather simply informing the other guy of his intention. With a few more powerful pumps, Ash was finally ready to give up his weeklong backlog of jizz, as he growled, “Ugh fuck, I’m gonna… Ugh!”

    It was a bone-shudderingly good nut—the kind that made you pant and hiss despite yourself.

    When it was all over, Ash unplugged his cock, still hard, from the masseur’s used hole and watched his thick, creamy-white splooge flood out and make a mess on the massage table and the floor…

    The masseur, in turn, was still holding himself up by the back of his knees, seemingly anticipating, and remarked, “You’re still hard…”

    It was true, and Ash had a feeling he knew why, so he wrested his cock and balls out of the jade ring—sure enough, blood started to drain away from his cock and Ash began to feel like himself again.

    “You don’t want second round?” The masseur asked hopefully.

    “Nah…” Ash handed back the mystical, chi-regulating jade cock ring, still trying to catch his breath. “Let’s not overdo it.”

  • The Barn

    The face staring back at me through the dusty barn window didn’t match the one in my head. That was the first thing I noticed.

    The reflection had more lines, deeper ones, carved around the mouth and eyes from decades of squinting into the sun. My hair, once dark as fresh-turned soil, was now streaked with silver, sticking up in wild tufts where I’d run my hands through it earlier.

    I sighed. At fifty-two, I’m still catching myself by surprise, but generally, I’m fit and not overweight. Yes, I had thinning hair, but overall, I appeared okay for my age.

    As for my sex life, it was nonexistent, not because I wasn’t interested, but simply because opportunities were few and far between. Living in a rural area didn’t exactly make spontaneous encounters easy, unless you counted the occasional drunken stumble at the county fair. After Marjorie left ten years ago, taking the kids and half my soul with her, I hadn’t really put myself out there. I remember her muttering something about finding a proper man, but that dream didn’t last long, though; he left her a few years later.

    The horses didn’t care about my physical well-being or sex life. They stamped impatiently in their stalls behind me, tails flicking at flies, waiting for their evening feed. I could smell the hay, sweet and dry, mixed with the earthy musk of their coats. One of them, old Ben, the stubborn bay, snorted loudly, as if to remind me he existed. “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, turning away from the window. My boots crunched over loose straw as I grabbed the feed bucket.

    Outside, the orchard stretched down the hill, rows of apple trees standing neat and orderly. The late afternoon light turned the leaves gold. I could hear the distant hum of a tractor, probably old man Henderson from the next farm over, puttering around his field. Normal sounds. Normal day. But something itched under my skin, restless. Maybe it was the way the reflection had looked at me, like it knew something I didn’t.

    I dumped the feed into Ben’s trough, watching him bury his muzzle in it with a satisfied grunt. The other horses jostled for position, their ears flicking forward in anticipation. Routine. Predictable. Safe. That’s how I liked things now. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. But sometimes, when the wind carried the scent of wild honeysuckle through the open barn doors, I’d catch myself staring at the empty stretch of road beyond the gate, wondering.

    A sharp knock at the barn door made me jump. No one ever came by this time of day. The sound echoed oddly against the wooden beams, too deliberate for a lost traveller or a neighbour asking to borrow tools. Ben lifted his head, ears swivelling toward the noise, his oats forgotten, temporarily.

    I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked toward the door, the hinges groaning as I pulled it open. “Oh, hi Tony, nice surprise. What can I do for you?”

    Tony stood there, his usual easy grin lighting up his face, though something flickered behind it, nervousness, maybe? He ran a hand through his sun-bleached hair, the gesture familiar after twenty years of living next door to each other. “Hey, um. Got a minute?” His voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.

    I nodded and stepped aside as he walked into the barn. Tony had always been a steady presence, helping with fence repairs, bringing over extra tomatoes from his garden, laughing too loudly at my terrible jokes. A good man, the kind you could count on, especially after his wife had passed away. But the way he shifted his weight now, his boots scuffing at the dirt, set something off in my gut. This wasn’t about borrowing sugar.

    Inside the barn, the horses blew out quiet snorts, their ears twitching toward us. Tony cleared his throat. “So, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was thinking. It’s been ten years since Marjorie left, right?”

    My pulse kicked up. Where the hell was this going? “Yeah,” I said cautiously.

    Tony met my eyes then, really met them, and I realised, shit. I’d seen that look a hundred times, just never directed at me. “And I’ve been widowed what, three years now?”

    He laughed, a short, shaky sound. “Christ, I’m bad at this.”

    The air between us thickened, charged like the moments before a summer storm. I could smell the faint sweat on his skin, the hay clinging to his flannel as my mouth went dry.

    Tony took a step closer. “Thing is,” he said, voice low, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now.”

    Behind us, Ben stamped his hoof impatiently, breaking the spell. Tony chuckled nervously. “Maybe not here,” he murmured, jerking his head toward the house. “Over a beer?”

    I exhaled, my fingers twitching at my sides. “Yeah,” I managed. “Yeah, okay, but why don’t you come out with it here. You’ve made the effort coming over and not just to ask me out for a beer. Come on, mate, what’s up?”

    Tony scratched at his jaw, the rasp of stubble loud in the quiet barn. “Alright,” he muttered as he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, shoulders squaring like he was bracing for impact. “You remember that night, two summers back? After the fair, when I helped you load that drunk idiot into your truck?”

    I frowned. Some city boy had gotten handsy with Henderson’s youngest granddaughter. Yeah, I remembered. Tony had been solid that night, calm while I saw red. “What about it?”

    Tony’s boot scuffed the dirt again. “You were….” He exhaled sharply. “Christ. You had that bastard pinned against the truck bed, and I thought, ‘There he is.’” His voice dropped. “The real you. All that quiet just… burned away. That’s when I decided I love you, although I had been in love with you for ages, and you never noticed.”

    The barn smelled suddenly sharper, sweat, hay, the metallic tang of old tools. Ben shifted in his stall, ears flicking toward us like he knew this conversation would upend everything. Tony’s hands flexed at his sides before he stuffed them in his pockets. “I kept waiting for you to notice,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth. “Left the gate unlatched so you’d come over to fix it. ‘Forgot’ my wrench in your shed. Hell, I even learned to make your coffee the way you like it.”

    I could hear my own pulse in my ears. The afternoon sun slanted through the barn door, catching the dust motes swirling between us. Tony’s face was half in shadow, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remembered. “All those times you thought I was just being neighbourly,” he murmured. “I was courting you like some damn teenager.”

    The word “courting” lodged in my ribs. It belonged to a different time, to porch swings and Sunday dinners, not to two middle-aged men in a barn with work-worn hands. Tony stepped closer, close enough that I could see the flecks of silver grey in his stubble, the nervous tremor in his lower lip. “So?” he said, rough-soft. “You gonna tell me I’m a fool?” as Tony’s fingers brushed mine, tentative. Warm. “Or,” he said, so quiet the horses couldn’t hear, “you gonna kiss me?”

    Hay rustled in the stalls as the horses shifted. The scent of crushed oats and Tony’s cheap aftershave tangled together. My throat tightened. Twenty years of shared county fairs, fence repairs, and bad coffee, all those moments rewritten in a breath.

    I grabbed his wrist. Not gentle. The way I’d grab a spooked colt’s halter. Tony’s pulse jumped under my thumb. “You’re a goddamn fool,” I rasped. Then I yanked him in.

    His mouth hit mine, too hard at first, teeth clacking. Then softer. Hesitant. Like we were both relearning something forgotten. Tony made a noise low in his throat, his hands fisting my shirt. The taste of him, spearmint gum and last night’s whiskey, flooded my senses. Behind us, Ben snorted, stamping his hoof like an impatient chaperone.

    We broke apart, panting. Tony’s pupils were blown wide, his lower lip slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning crookedly. “Well,” he said, voice wrecked, “that’s one way to say ‘me too.’”

    I shoved him against the feed sacks. Hay dust billowed up as he laughed, breathless. His hips ground against mine. “Christ, all that time I wanted to tell you something, but I couldn’t in case I got it wrong,” I muttered against his neck, biting at the salt-damp skin. “All those damn chances and missed opportunities.”

    Tony arched into me, fingers scrabbling at my belt. The barn door creaked in the wind. “Anyone could ride by, Tony, we could be seen.”

    His teeth scraped my earlobe. “Fuck’em. I’ve waited years for this moment,” he panted.

    The words punched through me. My knees nearly gave out as he fumbled with my button-fly, cursing. “Better…be quick. The horses’ll talk,” I said while trying to remain calm or certainly as calm as I could remain, as Tony’s hands undid my trousers.

    Tony laughed raggedly into my collarbone, exhaling hot against the skin. “Fuck the horses. I’m going to take you on a well overdue journey, Steve,” he declared as his fingers stilled, lifting my hands to press against the rough wood beam above us. “Hold them there,” he ordered, his voice having dropped to something dark and deliberate. “You heard me. Hold them there and enjoy the process of me taking you. I’m not waiting any longer. You are the man of my dreams, and I want you.”

    I was overwhelmed and couldn’t resist Tony’s advances as I clenched my hands around the beam, the rough wood scratching my palms. The afternoon light cut through the dusty air, painting stripes across Tony’s face as he stepped back. His gaze travelled down my body like a tractor ploughing a field, methodical and inevitable as I surrendered to his advances.

    “I’ve been imagining this,” Tony murmured, circling me. The pad of his thumb dragged over my nipple through the thin cotton as I hissed in response. “Every damn time you bent over that tractor engine, sweatin’ through your shirt,” as he hooked a finger in my belt loop, yanking me forward until our hips collided again. “Christ, Steve. You are beautiful.”

    His teeth grazed my throat as his hands worked my shirt up. The fabric caught under my arms, binding me as effectively as rope as Tony’s palms skated up my ribs, tracing the map of old scars and sun-worn skin.

    Tony pressed his mouth, nibbling my nipple, then the other, reverent in his touch, his teeth digging in a little to force a reaction from my body. His stubble scraped lower, following the trail of hair below my navel. My hips jerked involuntarily.

    Above us, a Swallow darted through the rafters, wings slicing the thick air as a groan tore from me when Tony’s tongue swiped the head of my cock through the denim of my jeans. “Y’keep your damn promise to hold onto that beam,” he growled, his fingers working my belt until the leather slithered free with a hiss. “I told you I’d take my time, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, one piece of clothing at a time.”

    A horse whinnied in a stall. The sound barely registered over the blood roaring in my ears. Tony’s knuckles brushed my bare stomach as he peeled my jeans down. Cool air rushed over heated skin. His fingers, soft and rough from years of teaching at the local school, closed around me with terrifying gentleness over the cotton fabric.

    “Look at you,” he breathed. The first stroke nearly buckled my knees. “All this time, I’ve wanted you, I’ve wanted to suck your beautiful cock, but never got closer enough and now, here I am, inches from your cock, waiting to be taken when I lower those Y-Fronts, and I am going to take it… all of it.”

    His thumb swiped my leaking head, spreading moisture in slow circles over the cotton. “Fuckin’ criminal, this being hidden for so long.”

    The laces of my boots gave way under Tony’s fingers, each tug sending tremors up my thighs. Warm afternoon air rushed over my calves as he peeled my jeans down further, the denim catching on my boots before he yanked them free with a muffled curse. Now, his efforts left me standing in nothing but my Y-Fronts, the cotton clinging where sweat and anticipation pooled while my shirt remained hooked around my shoulders.

    Tony rocked back on his heels, eyes dark as scorched earth. “Jesus wept,” he whispered, fingertips tracing the elastic waistband. The mild calluses on his hands caught the fabric, dragging it down inch by agonising inch. My cock sprang free, slapping against my stomach with a wet sound that made Tony’s nostrils flare. He inhaled sharply through his teeth like he’d been gut-punched. “Look at that. Just fuckin’ look at it.”

    Tony’s palm cradled my balls with terrifying gentleness, his thumb rolling over the sensitive skin beneath. “All those times I watched you heft hay bales,” he murmured, lips brushing the inside of my thigh. “Saw your arms flex when you swung that sledgehammer,” as his tongue darted out, licking a stripe up my shaft. “But I only dreamed I’d get to taste you,” as he slipped my Y-Fronts all the way down to pool around my ankles.

    The first suck stole my breath. Tony took me deep, throat working around me like he’d been born to do this. My fingers gripped the wooden beam tight as his nose pressed into my pubes, his eyes watering as he swallowed around my shaft as a garbled moan vibrating through my flesh.

    When he pulled off with a filthy pop, spit stringing between his lips and my cock, his grin was all teeth. “Bet you taste even better coming down my throat.”

    The barn door creaked ominously. Tony didn’t pause, just twisted his hand around the base and took me back in. Hotter. Hungrier. Like a man who’d finally found water after years in the desert. My hips jerked forward on their own, fucking into that wet heat.

    Tony’s fingers dug into my ass cheeks, spreading me wider as he worked his tongue under the crown. The swallow I felt next nearly made my knees give out. “Christ almighty….” I managed to say when his thumb pressed against my perineum, circling with filthy intent.

    He pulled off just long enough to grin up at me, his lips slick, eyes wild as a mustang. “Tell me when,” he rasped, before diving back in.

    My back arched off the beam. The world narrowed to the suction of Tony’s spit-slick mouth, the scrape of his stubble along my thighs, the way his free hand palmed my ass as he owned it. Pressure coiled low in my gut, tightening with every bob of his head. I tried to warn him, grabbed a fistful of his sun-bleached hair as I let go of the beam above my head, but Tony just hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight to my spine.

    Then it hit. My hips stuttered forward as I came harder than I had in years, spurting down Tony’s throat with a choked-off shout. He took it all, swallowing around me until I finally whimpered from physical oversensitivity. Only then did he pull off with a satisfied pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he’d just finished a good meal.

    “Yum, yum,” was all he said as he rose to his feet, swaying slightly, and pressed our foreheads together. His breath smelled of me, warm and salty. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment,” he admitted again, his voice wrecked, and as I looked down, his cock was clearly straining against his jeans, leaving a damp spot against my thigh.

    The barn door groaned in the wind. Somewhere beyond it, Henderson’s tractor sputtered to life. Reality crashed back in, the horses shifting in their stalls, the golden light slanting through the dust motes and the fact that my damn Y-Fronts were still tangled around my sock-clad feet.

    Tony chuckled against my neck, lips brushing the pulse point. “Steve?”

    “Hmm?”

    “Take your shirt off and lie down on the hay bales behind you,” he ordered as he nipped my earlobe. “I haven’t finished yet.”

    I was putty in his hands as I obeyed his instruction, stepping out of my Y-Fronts and then lifting my shirt over my head, dropping it onto the dirt floor just feet away from my Y-Fronts and discarded jeans.

    Tony stepped back, grinning like he’d won the county fair grand prize. “And your socks,” he demanded as his belt buckle jingled as he undid the leather. “Do you want me?” he asked, the promise in those four words sending a fresh jolt of desire through my body.

    “Yes,” was all I could manage as I lay naked on the hay bales watching his every move.

    Tony grinned as he removed his jeans, kicking the shoes off, allowing him the freedom to kick his jeans into the corner by the door. Then he tugged his shirt up and over his head, leaving him in his classic white briefs that were not Y-Fronts but similar. It was his cock, though, that drew my attention more. Tony appeared to be huge; the thick outline pressed against the cotton made my mouth go dry all over again. The damp spot from earlier had grown, the fabric clinging obscenely to the head as I now fantasised about accepting his demanding manhood.

    It had been years since I had been fucked, settling into a conventional married life, having children and then, finding out, my wife didn’t think me a proper man because I was bi, even though I had remained loyal to her.

    Now, the years of abstinence were coming to an end as Tony hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, stretching it out far enough that I caught a glimpse of dark blonde curls before he let it snap back. “Eyes up here, Steve,” he teased, tapping my chin with two fingers as I lay on the hay bale, inches from his cock.

    I couldn’t stop staring at the way his erection curved to the left, the tip leaking enough to make the briefs translucent, and I knew I would soon be enjoying what remained hidden from view.

    Tony crawled onto the hay bale, his body suspended by his knees and arms over my naked body as he leaned down to kiss me. The dry grass crackled under his weight and movement, his breath hitching when my fingers found the waistband of his briefs. “Steve….”

    I didn’t let him finish, as I pushed them down until he was free of them, using his legs to slip them all the way off as his cock pointed directly at my stomach. I swallowed hard at the sight. Thick and flushed red, the veins stood out along the shaft. A drop of precum beaded at the slit. Without thinking, I licked my lips.

    Tony groaned, his hips jerking forward. “Jesus Christ, the way you’re looking at me…Steve, you… clearly want me.”

    “I do, but I haven’t been fucked in a very, very long time, Tony.”

    “Don’t worry, mate, I brought some help,” he responded as he held up a tube a CY Jelly.

    I took the tube of lube and popped it open, squeezing probably too much onto his cock, my fingers sliding slickly along his entire length. The scent of glycerin mixed with hay and horse sweat, an oddly erotic combination. “That should make life easier,” I muttered, watching his stomach muscles twitch under my touch. His hips jerked forward, chasing my hand as I pulled away.

    Tony’s breath hitched when I spread my legs wider on the hay bale, golden afternoon light striping across my thighs. “How do you want to take me?”

    The question came out hoarse, barely louder than the swallows rustling in the rafters. I was surrendering again to this macho man I’d shared fences and beers with for twenty years, never realising he’d been aching for me all this time.

    His calloused palm pressed my knees as he slipped off the bale, pulling my legs closer to the edge where he now stood, his erect cock pointing towards its target. “Like this,” Tony growled, lining himself up.

    The blunt head of his cock pressed against me, heat and pressure building as he slowly pushed in. Another push, very slow again, almost too slow as my back arched off the bale, in response to his attempts. “Christ, you’re tight,” he gritted out, forehead damp with sweat.

    “As I said, it’s been a while since someone took me like this.”

    “Well, I hadn’t expected it to be this tight, though,” Tony said as I hissed through my teeth as he finally breached me, the stretching, burning in the best way, although it hurt. Tony stilled, his trembling thighs pressed against mine. “Alright?” he panted. When I nodded, he dragged out almost all the way before sliding back in, punching a ragged moan from my throat. The rhythm built slowly and perfectly, hay crackling beneath us, Tony’s grunts in my ear, the musky smell of sex mingling with saddle soap and dust.

    His thumb found my nipple, pinching just shy of pain as he fucked into me harder. “Look at you,” Tony rasped. “All mine.”

    The possessive note in his voice sent sparks down my spine as, by now, he was thrusting harder, finding my sweet spot that had remained dormant for a long time. I could feel my building climax every time his cock brushed past my prostate, and then when he pulled out, the sensation returned with the next thrust. I was in heaven with a man who had kept faith that one day we would be lovers.

    My body couldn’t deny Tony’s thrusts as he hit my sweet spot again, and I came, spilling a huge quantity of cum between us with a choked cry as Tony’s hips stuttered.

    “Wow,” Tony declared as my cum continued to spurt from my head. “When did you last cum, Steve? He buried his face in my neck while his cock pulsed inside me.

    I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him inside me, feeling each pulse of his cock, as he filled me with his seed. “I last shot my load a week ago,” I answered Tony, although he wasn’t too interested as he lay on my chest, exhausted and breathing hard.

    “What now?” I asked, my voice rough as gravel. The words hung between us, sticky as the sweat cooling on our bodies. Tony lifted his head from my chest, his cheek imprinted with hay marks. “Well,” he said, dragging a thumb through the mess on my stomach, “we clean up before the horses start gossiping.”

    His grin was lazy, satisfied, the same one he’d given me after we’d rebuilt my barn roof after the storm last year. I smiled at him, “We don’t need to get cleaned up just yet. We can feed the horses regardless, and then we can…. make a decision. Maybe I want you again after all this time, missing the…. Well, you know.”

    Tony chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his discarded briefs. “Christ, Steve, you’re insatiable.”

    I watched his muscles ripple under sweat-slick skin while he bent to scoop up our clothes, his spent cock swaying between his thighs. The sight sent fresh heat curling through my belly. “That’s your fault,” I muttered, swiping a finger through the cooling mess on my stomach. “Twenty years of pent-up frustration unleashed by one damn talented mouth.”

    The horses snorted impatiently as Tony pulled up his white briefs, ears flicking toward the grain bin. Tony moved differently now, lingering touches brushing my hip as he passed, fingers tracing my spine when he handed me my shirt. Every casual contact burned like a brand. “I’m staying like this because I will want you again when you feel up for it,” I declared. “You are not fucking me once and then leaving. Not now. Not this time.”

    By the time we finished mucking out the stalls, the late afternoon sun stretched lavender fingers across the orchard. Tony leaned against the fence, rolling a cigarette with hands that had just reduced me to a shuddering wreck. The match flared, illuminating the crinkles around his eyes as he inhaled, standing there in his underwear.

    “You ever think,” he said, smoke curling from his lips, “how many damn times I almost kissed you?”

    The memory hit like a hoof to the ribs, Tony holding my face steady that time I got a splinter, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. The way he lingered when handing me a beer at last year’s harvest party. All those near-misses hovered between us like fireflies as I remembered he once complimented me when he saw me in just my Y-Fronts in the garden.

    I stepped behind him, locking my arms around him as I stood naked, and he, in his white briefs. “Tell me,” I demanded against the hair on his back.

    Tony’s chuckle vibrated against my lips. He flicked the cigarette away and turned to hold me tight. “Patience, my loverboy,” he murmured, teeth scraping my earlobe. “We’ve got all evening to reminisce.”

    I bit down on his collarbone, tasting salt and promises. “We can reminisce later, as you say, but I want you now.”

    His grin flashed wolfish in the dusk. “Now. You sure?” as I pushed his white briefs down. “Here? Now?”

    “Yes, now you fucker,” I replied as I turned to the fence for support. “Right here. Now. Fuck me, you… You, brute.”

    “If you insist,” as he stepped behind me, leaving his white briefs discarded where he stepped out of them. I braced myself as he tentatively pushed in behind me, the lube and cum providing what was needed, and once in, he started to fuck me well and truly hard. The rough wood of the fence dug into my palms as he drove into me with none of the careful restraint from before. Each thrust punched a grunt from my throat, my knees nearly buckling as his hips slapped against my ass.

    Hay prickled against my bare stomach where I pressed against the rail. Tony’s breath came in ragged bursts against my shoulder, his fingers gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Christ,” he growled, “should’ve done this years ago, should’ve bent you over every damn fence on this property and afterwards, spank this arse of yours until it’s bright red.”

    The vulgarity sent heat flooding through me. I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust until we fell into a brutal rhythm. Dusk insects hummed around us, indifferent witnesses to the slick sounds of skin on skin, the creak of the old fence under our weight as he showed me no mercy. “Perhaps, I might like to fuck you if you wear a dress like the slut you are,” Tony suggested between the grunts and groans he made. “You might even look good in a dress.”

    I was thinking about what he had suggested as his hand slid around my throat, not squeezing, just holding, claiming, as his pace intensified. “Come for me again,” he demanded, his voice guttural.

    And God help me, I did. My climax ripped through me like a lightning strike, vision whiting out as I spilt over the fence rail in thick pulses. Tony followed with a choked curse, burying himself deep as he came, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades.

    With almost perfect timing, we both heard, “Hi, Mr…..oh fuck, sorry… I didn’t realise. Oh God…fuck me.”

    Neither of us had heard him arriving over our ragged breathing. Adam’s voice, equal parts startled, shocked and overwhelmed at the sight in front of him, cut through our haze like a bucket of ice water.

    Tony froze inside me. His grip on my hips tightened instinctively, then loosened, too late though. Adam stood frozen by the barn door, clutching a carrot for Albert in one hand, his school backpack slipping off his shoulder. The late afternoon sun caught the flush crawling up his neck as his eyes flicked between Tony’s cock still buried in me and my cum-streaked thighs.

    Adam stood, eyes wide, unable to decide what to do next. “Um. Oh God, I can… come back later…. I really didn’t mean to disturb you guys,” as he took a half-step backwards, his trainers squelching in the damp earth. But he didn’t turn away in a hurry as his mouth remained open, his lips glistening in the fading afternoon sunlight.

    Tony exhaled a curse against my spine, his breath scalding. My own pulse hammered loud enough to drown out common sense. But Adam didn’t leave. Just adjusted his stance subtly, jeans straining at the fly by that time as he continued to stare at two naked men, caught fucking.

    Behind me, Tony chuckled darkly, his hips giving an experimental roll that made my knees shake. “Hi, Adam, we weren’t expecting you, you might have realised,” he said, nipping my shoulder. “Sorry you had to see this, and I hope you’re not too offended.”

    Adam’s breath hitched audibly. The carrot snapped in his grip, realising for the first time that one of his teachers at school was fucking a man.

    Tony didn’t pull out immediately. He just flexed inside me deliberately, making my thighs tremble as Adam’s gaze dropped to where we were joined, his teacher’s cock still buried in his neighbour’s back passage. It was then that his cheeks darkened three shades of red as embarrassment overtook his reaction.

    “Sorry, Mr Shaw, I didn’t realise that you knew Steve and that….,” Adam tried to say without sounding too interested and too, in awe, “and that, you like to fuck.”

    By now, Tony had pulled out of me and had reclaimed his briefs in a hurry as he restored his personal modesty. “You don’t have to get dressed on my account,” Adam said as he looked at me, recovering my composure. “You look very…… um…. together.”

    Adam’s voice was surprisingly calm for someone who’d just walked in on his teacher balls-deep in his neighbour. “As for being offended, not at all,” Adam responded, though his fingers were white-knuckled around the snapped carrot.

    His gaze lingered on Tony’s briefs clinging to his damp thighs. “It’s…. It’s different and yeh…. unexpected,” the words hanging between us, thick as the scent of sweat and sex in the humid air.

    Adam knelt and picked up my discarded Y-Fronts from the dirt with unexpected reverence. “Nice,” he murmured, looking at me while running his thumb over the cotton pouch. “Seldom see these these days in school. Everyone wears boxer briefs now,” as his fingers flexed around the fabric, not quite fondling, but close. When he lifted his head, his pupils were blown wide despite the golden evening light.

    Tony snorted, still gloriously bare-chested with just his white briefs clinging to his otherwise naked body. “Suppose you’re a boxer briefs type of boy,” he challenged, sizing Adam up with narrowed eyes, trying to gauge why the kid wasn’t spluttering in outrage at finding us, him a teacher, mid-fuck.

    Adam grinned, slow and knowing as he handed me my underwear. “Quite the contrary,” he said, fingers lingering against my palm. “I wear Hanes briefs. Mum bought them in the USA, and it appears you guys like traditional briefs as well, unlike the boys at school. I always think men look great in them.”

    It was obvious that Adam was talking in nervous response to the sight before him. In fact, I wondered if Adam would actually shut up as his hips shifted subtly, the movement making his school trousers pull tight across his groin. “I’ve worn nothing else since she bought them for me in the new year. In my opinion, they are the best underwear a man can wear, and are much nicer than boxer briefs and particularly, boxer shorts.”

    The admission hung between us, thick as the scent of hay and sex. Tony’s nostrils flared, scenting fresh arousal beneath the adolescent bravado. My own pulse jumped when Adam casually adjusted himself through his trousers, the fabric tenting obscenely.

    Tony moved first, stepping close enough to make Adam’s breath hitch. “You can show us if you like,” Tony suggested. “Don’t be shy. You clearly have a…. a thing.”

    When Adam hesitated, Tony grabbed the boy’s belt buckle, making the metal jingle. “Or would you like me to help you? Perhaps you’re lying.”

    Adam moaned, high and desperate, as Tony’s knuckles brushed the unmistakable bulge beneath his zipper. “Mr Shaw, I’m not lying. I never would. You know that,” he tried to assure us as the broken carrot fell forgotten to the dirt. “It’s just…. You are my teacher, and Steve here is my friend who allows me to ride his horse and….Oh god,” as he started to hyperventilate a little.

    “Adam, relax, there’s nothing to be worried about. This is all very unexpected, I know, but because you haven’t run off, screaming, we are wondering, are you gay? Most men who claim to be straight would excuse themselves, pronto and then leg it.      

    The young man looked at us, unsure what to say or do.

    I looked at the boy and smiled. “It’s nothing to worry about if you are, you know,” I stated. “The mere fact that you haven’t moved since finding us leaves the question wide open.”

    Adam’s throat bobbed. He glanced between Tony and me, then stared at the broken carrot halves lying in the dirt. “I like girls,” he blurted, then winced at his own words. “I mean…I want to like girls.” His fingers plucked at his school jumper. “But when I wank…” He cut himself off, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

    Tony barked a chuckle and hooked a finger in the boy’s belt loop. “Let me guess, you imagine a …. man watching you shoot your load?”

    Adam’s knees buckled slightly when Tony tugged him closer. “I….” The confession burst out like a dam breaking. “I come here because Mr Peterson, Steve, stacks hay bales shirtless, and I can see his, your underwear. I fantasise about seeing him, sorry, you, Steve, in your Y-Fronts as I cum. It sort of turns me on, big time, and… there was one occasion I saw you, Steve, in the orchard, working away wearing nothing but your white Y-Fronts.”

    “Really?” I asked. “You fantasise about me while you masturbate?”

    “Um…sorry…. yes,” Adam confessed. “You are the only guy I know that I fantasise about, and…. I don’t know, I have tried a couple of times to appear attractive to you, but…. You never seem to notice my…. Well, you never really notice me.”

    “Wow, I’m sorry I never noticed, and I wish I had. It might have made a difference for you.” I replied to his honest statement. “It appears I have not noticed a lot of things over the years,” as I glanced at Tony.

    Tony chuckled. “Adam, same here. Steve never noticed I was madly in love with him, and that’s why I decided to approach him today. You might say, there are none so blind as those who won’t see, and I could except his blindness any longer. I confessed my love and, bingo, the rest is history,” Tony said with a beaming smile.

    “Now, Adam, back to our conversation about underwear. Wearing Y-Fronts is more common than you think and…. I get your interest. Some men are specifically aroused by the sight, feel, or even smell of Y-fronts or briefs, whether worn by themselves or a partner, and as you probably know, in the USA they call them tighty whities.”

    “Exactly,” Adam chipped in. “I get a little excited about wearing them or seeing guys wear them.”

    “And now you have suggested to us you are sexually conflicted. You don’t need to be conflicted. You can take the first step by showing us, since it appears the only truthful people around here are you and me. Call it what you like: friends together, sex education. Trusting us with your secret.”

    “I don’t know,” Adam responded as he nervously played with his belt buckle.

    “That’s it,” I murmured, circling behind Adam, allowing my hands to settle on his narrow hips, feeling the tremors running through him. “It’s natural to be nervous, especially the first time, but perhaps let Tony and me see what you’ve been hiding under those school clothes. You might even enjoy the attention.”

    Adam whimpered when my thumbs hooked into the waistband of his school trousers as Tony’s hungry gaze locked on the strip of skin, exposed inch by agonising inch as I pulled his pullover up and over his head, leaving his school shirt untucked above his belt.

    “Well done, Adam, on letting me take your pullover off,” as my fingers traced his supple skin along the waistband of his white Hanes briefs peeking out above the waistband of his school trousers.

    Tony exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fuck me,” he rasped, “You actually do wear Hanes briefs. I bet you anything that you have been leaking madly since you first saw us, haven’t you?”

    Adam nodded frantically. “Nothing I could do, I guess. Natural response and all, I guess. It always happens to me, and sometimes it’s quite embarrassing, especially at school.”

    I resumed tracing my fingers along his skin. “No pressure, but how would you like to share a journey today with us? Call it what you like, but perhaps it will help with your sexual conflict, in a safe environment.”

    “What sort of journey?” Adam asked.

    “How about losing your virginity?” I responded. “That’s a journey we could prepare you for by… undressing you and then perhaps, I could provide you with a blowjob? Ever had a blowjob?”

    Adam froze, his breath hitching. “N-no, Steve.”

    “Would you like one?” I whispered into his ear, “From me,” as my fingers were now employed unbuttoning his white school shirt.

    Adam’s knees buckled slightly at my question. “I…. I don’t know,” Adam responded, as his school shirt fell open, revealing a pale but firm stomach quivering under our scrutiny.

    “You don’t need to do anything, Adam, just sort of lie back and think of ……England, and I will do the rest,” as my fingers traced the tense planes of Adam’s stomach, feeling the involuntary tremors beneath his skin. The kid’s breath hitched when my thumbs brushed over his nipples, small, pink, and already stiffening despite his nervous protest as I gently pinched and twisted them.

    I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, caught between teenage bravado and raw inexperience. Tony’s chuckle rumbled behind me, warm against my shoulder. “Christ, look at him,” he muttered, nudging me. “He’s like a rabbit in headlights.”

    “Steve, no one has seen me naked,” he whispered as I gently scratched his chest and stomach with my nails.“

    “Would you mind if I undressed you, Adam?” I responded as my fingers started to unbuckle his belt. “From what I’ve seen so far, I think you have a lovely body,” as my finger travelled down his naval, playing with his hair like runway landing lights.

    Adam whimpered when my fingers worked his belt free. His trousers sagged instantly, revealing more of those pristine white Hanes clinging desperately to his narrow hips. I could already see the damp patch at the front, the fabric stretched taut over what was clearly an impressive erection for his age, but my fingers now traced circles on his buttocks, and I continued to slip his trousers lower over his bottom.

    “Adam, do you trust me?” as Tony moved in and picked Adam up and carried him over to the bale of hay, seating him at the edge with his legs dangling down.

    Adam remained silent as Tony’s hands made quick work of the young man’s shoes and socks, and then, pushing his white school shirt over his shoulders, he tossed it onto the ground along with his other items now discarded.

    “Stand up, Adam,” I commanded him.

    Adam stood on the bale, his feet bare, his chest looking young and magnificent as I peeled his black school trousers down past his knees. “Sit down now,” I told him as I looked at his pristine white Hanes briefs with a whacking erection clearly visible. I also noted that his precum was…. Well, let’s say working overtime, leaking at an alarming rate from a cock I had yet to see.

    I peeled his trousers from his legs and tossed them towards the other clothing. The scent of adolescent arousal hit me, sweat and salt and something unmistakably virginal, teasing my senses as the boy looked, delectable in his briefs.

    “I want you to lie down on the bale and let me take control and… yes, I’m going to remove your briefs, and Tony and I are going to admire your nubile naked body, and then, I’m going to give you your first blowjob. Does that sound like a plan?”

    Adam didn’t say a word as he assumed the position I had requested him to adopt. He lay on the hay bale in his white Hanes briefs, legs trembling slightly in the evening air. I traced the elastic band of his Hanes with one finger, feeling the damp heat radiating from beneath. “You look beautiful, Adam,” I murmured, thumb catching on the wet patch at the front. “And Tony and I can see you’re extremely…. damp.”

    His hips jerked involuntarily at my touch as I ran my fingers over the fabric, feeling the head of his cock. “Yum yum, circumcised,” I muttered. “Perhaps it’s time to remove these for you,” I continued, hooking my fingers in the waistband.

    “Can you hurry up, Steve?” Tony said. “The suspense is killing me. I want to see his magnificent manhood sometime this afternoon.”

    Ignoring Tony’s comment, Adam’s breath came in shallow gasps, his fingers twisting in the hay beneath him. His briefs were soaked through, clinging obscenely to every contour, the fabric stretched thin over the head of his cock. A bead of precum darkened the cotton further as I watched. Tony exhaled sharply beside me, his erection straining against his own briefs again.

    Tony was becoming impatient again as he whispered in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you again, you slut, while you blow him.”

    Adam’s eyes widened as he absorbed what Tony had just said, his breath more ragged as I knelt before him, my fingers now hooked under the waistband of his briefs. The scent of his arousal, sweet and musky, filled my nose, mingling with the hay beneath us. The outline of his cock was clearly visible, the head glistening through the damp cotton. I glanced up at him, my thumbs brushing his hip bones. “Adam?” I asked again, my voice low. “Last chance to say no.”

    “Fuck sake, Steve, get on with it,” Tony exclaimed as Adam swallowed hard, then shook his head, not in refusal, but in disbelief. “I….please,” he breathed, hips lifting slightly off the hay. It was all the permission I needed.

    I pulled his Hanes briefs down over his toes, dropping them into the dust, and then I saw him, beautiful, circumcised, at least six inches or pure magnificent meat waiting to be devoured for the first time.

    His cock stood proud and flushed against his stomach, the head slick with precum. “Fuck me,” I said aloud before wrapping my lips around him for the first time. The taste was sharp and musky, adolescent need distilled into salt and heat. Adam gasped, his hands flying to my hair just as Tony’s familiar weight settled behind me.

    “Finally,” Tony said as the first thrust of Tony’s cock breaching me nearly made me choke, but I bore down, taking Adam deeper. Adam’s fingers tightened in my hair, his hips jerking uncontrollably as I worked him with lips and tongue. Tony’s rhythm behind me was relentless, each stroke pushing me forward onto Adam’s cock. The boy whimpered, his thighs trembling, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

    I could tell Adam wasn’t going to last long, the downside to being a virgin, I guess. Adam’s climax hit suddenly. One moment, he was panting; the next, his back arched as he spilt into my mouth with a choked cry. The taste, bitter, salty and thick, flooded my tongue just as Tony’s thrusts turned erratic behind me. He groaned, burying himself deep, and I knew he wasn’t far off either.  I wasn’t wrong as he thrust once more and then groaned, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks as he climaxed, as I still had Adam’s cock in my mouth.

    I continued to suck Adam until he couldn’t take my ministrations any longer, and when I finished, Adam lay boneless, helpless, on the hay, his chest heaving, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled.

    Tony slumped against my back, his breath hot on my neck. The scent of sex hung thick in the air, mingling with the sweetness of crushed grass and the musk of horses nearby. Adam turned his head, blinking dazedly at us.

    “Did you just…?” His voice cracked.

    Tony chuckled darkly. “Yep, Adam. You just lost your first stage of virginity to a barnyard sandwich.”

    Adam groaned, covering his face with his hands, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers lingered near his mouth, as if still tasting the moment. “Wow,” he said, still covering his eyes with his fingers.

    Tony pulled out of me with a slick sound, his softening cock glistening in the twilight. “Barnyard sandwich?” I muttered, wiping my chin. “Really?”

    Tony just grinned, collapsing onto the hay beside Adam. “Adam’s gonna remember this forever,” he said, ruffling Adam’s sweaty hair. “Might as well make it memorable.”

    Adam peeked between his fingers, his chest still flushed pink. His spent cock lay against his thigh, twitching slightly when Tony’s knuckles brushed it while reaching for his cigarettes. “Fuck,” Adam breathed, more awed than horrified. “That actually happened. Oh my God, it actually happened. It was… fucking amazing.”

    I stretched out beside them, the hay prickling my bare skin. Tony lit a cigarette, the match flare highlighting the bite marks on my shoulders. He exhaled smoke toward the rafters where swallows darted in and out of their nests. “So,” he said casually, “you still like girls?”

    Adam’s laugh was shaky. “I think,” he said slowly, watching Tony’s lips around the cigarette, “I might need to reevaluate if it’s always like that.”

    Tony passed the cigarette to me, our fingers brushing. Adam tracked the movement hungrily. When I offered it to him, he hesitated only a second before taking a drag, too deep, and coughing violently.

    Tony thumped his back. “Easy, boy. Some things take practice.” His grin turned wicked. “Good thing you’ve got teachers, but, trust me, once you start fucking, it gets even better.”

    Adam’s eyes widened as Tony’s hand slid down my spine, coming to rest possessively on my arse. “Lesson two starts when you are ready,” Tony murmured, squeezing. “Unless you’ve got homework?”

    Adam sat up abruptly, hay sticking to his damp thighs. “No! I mean….” He swallowed hard, gaze dropping to Tony’s thick fingers, kneading my flesh. “I’m free and… and I like the lesson for a change.”

    I chuckled, stubbing out the cigarette in the dirt. “Then get comfortable, Adam,” as I pulled him down between us, his bare skin warm against us both. “I haven’t had this much sex in years, and I’m loving it, and I am like you, demanding satisfaction.”

    Tony laughed. “It only took a miracle to coax you out of your shell, Steve, but now, there’s no stopping you, it would seem.”

    “Perhaps I’m making up for lost time, Tony,” I suggested, “and Adam here is just a beginner, but I suspect a quick learner. If you’re feeling exhausted, take a seat and see what happens next.”

    Tony chuckled, shaking his head as he rolled onto his side. “Christ, Steve, you’re worse than a cat on heat.” But he didn’t walk away. Tony just propped himself up on an elbow, watching intently as I traced the curve of Adam’s hipbone with my finger.

    Adam shivered, his cock already twitching back to life against his thigh. I leaned in, letting my breath ghost over the flushed tip. “Well, Adam?” I murmured, watching his pulse leap in his throat. “Do you fancy your first fuck?”

    His fingers twisted in the hay beneath us, crushing brittle stalks. The golden boy scent of him, sun-warmed skin and salt, filled my nose as I waited. “With…. with who?”

    Tony exhaled smoke through his nostrils like a dragon considering its next meal. “To fuck or to be fucked, that is the question,” he said, tapping ash onto Adam’s bare thigh, watching the boy shiver as my finger played with his slit now that he was fully erect again.

    Adam’s lips parted in a perfect pink O of indecision. His gaze darted between Tony’s muscled torso, still gleaming with sweat, and my own cock stirring against his hip. “I… I don’t…know how to…”

    “Ah, the question is an answer,” Tony declared. “Steve, he doesn’t know how to fuck. Perhaps we should show him. What do you think?”

    Come on, you too, don’t take the piss,” Adam begged with a chuckle.

    “Fair enough,” I said, climbing off the bale to grab the CY Jelly as Tony made some space. “I want you to fuck me, Adam and take your time. No rush.”

    I returned to sit on Adam’s legs, his naked body flushed with a renewed erection demanding satisfaction. His cock stood stiff against his stomach, thick and pink-tipped, far more impressive than most boys his age. The scent of him, musky and sweet with youth, filled my nose as I squeezed a generous dollop of lube onto my fingers.

    “You ready?”

    Adam smiled and nodded his head as I started to smear the lube onto his magnificent cock. “I’m going to enjoy this, Adam, and so will you,” as I now shuffled up his thighs to straddle his hips, taking his cock in my hand, guiding it into my waiting body. “It’s going to feel tight and warm, and once you’re in, your body will know what to do. Just go with the flow.”

    Tony chuckled darkly from where he lounged against a hay bale, his own cock hardening again as he watched me sink onto Adam’s virgin length. “That’s it, Steve,” Tony murmured around his cigarette, “take the boy nice and slow.”

    Adam gasped, his fingers digging into my thighs as I lowered myself onto his cock inch by inch. His hips twitched impatiently beneath me, his cockhead probing at my entrance before sliding in with a slick pop. “Oh fuck,” Adam whimpered, his blond lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. “It’s so… so…”

    “Tight?” Tony supplied, stubbing out his cigarette and moving closer. “Hot?” He ran a calloused palm up Adam’s chest, tweaking a nipple. “Better than your hand?” as his other hand settled on my hip, guiding my movements as I began to rock.

    Adam could only nod frantically, his eyes rolling back as I took him deeper. The stretch burned deliciously. Adam wasn’t small by any means, and the way his cock twitched inside me told me he was fighting not to come immediately. Tony’s hands wandered lower, one circling Adam’s cock where it disappeared into me, the other sliding to find my own spent erection. “Look at him, Steve,” Tony growled in my ear, his thumb smearing precum across my slit. “He’s never felt anything like this.” His fingers tightened around my cock. “Make him remember it.”

    I rocked forward, letting Adam’s cock drag against that sweet spot inside me before sinking back down. Adam’s breath hitched sharply, his hips jerking upward uncontrollably. “Fuck! Fuck, Mr Shaw…” as he looked at his teacher.

    Tony silenced him with a rough kiss, swallowing his whimpers as I increased the pace just slightly. The barn air grew thick with the scent of hay and sex, Adam’s sweat-slick chest heaving beneath me as Tony worked my cock in time with my movements, as he managed to still kiss Adam.

    Adam’s climax built visibly, his thighs trembled violently, his balls drawing tight against his body. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as Tony broke their kiss to murmur filth in his ear. “That’s it, boy. Let go. Fill Steve up.”

    The command tipped Adam over the edge. His back arched off the hay bale as he came, pulsing young cum in me with choked, breathless gasps. Tony groaned appreciatively at the sight, kissing down Adam’s throat as I milked him through it, riding out each spasm until the boy collapsed boneless beneath us.

    Tony wasted no time. He hauled me off Adam’s softening cock, forcing me onto my hands and knees before I could protest as Adam remained underneath me. “My turn,” he growled, lining himself up.

    Adam watched dazedly as Tony pushed into me with one smooth thrust, the remaining lube making the stretch easier this time. “Christ, you’re still tight,” Tony grunted, his fingers biting into my hips. Adam licked his lips unconsciously at the lewd squelch of Tony’s cock driving into me, his own softening length twitching with renewed interest. “Lesson three, Adam,” Tony panted, snapping his hips sharply. “A real man always goes for seconds.”

    The rhythm was brutal. Tony’s thighs slapped against my arse with each thrust, his balls swinging heavy against mine. Adam’s gaze was glued on Tony, his mouth slightly open. I groaned as Tony hit that sweet spot again, sparks dancing behind my eyelids. “Fuck, right there!”

    Tony chuckled darkly and angled his hips deliberately, battering that bundle of nerves mercilessly. My cock dripped onto the boy’s stomach beneath me, untouched and achingly hard.

    Adam reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing my leaking tip. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I arched back onto Tony’s cock with a choked cry just as Adam wrapped hesitant fingers around my shaft. “You’re…you’re so wet,” Adam murmured, thumb swiping through the cum beading at my slit. Tony’s rhythm faltered for half a second, his groan rumbling through my spine as he watched his student fist my cock.

    The dual sensations were overwhelming. Tony was pounding my prostate while Adam clumsily wanked me off. When Tony hit the spot again, my vision whited out. Before I knew it, I was shooting thick ropes across Adam’s chest, striping his flushed skin with my release. Tony swore violently, slamming home one final time as he came, his hips stuttering against my arse as he filled me. Adam stared down at the mess on his chest, then tentatively brought sticky fingers to his mouth, tasting me with a look of awed curiosity.

    Tony collapsed beside us, breathing heavily. He reached out lazily, gathering some of my semen from Adam’s sternum and sucking it off his fingers. “Welcome to adulthood, boy,” he smirked. Adam’s answering grin was shaky but genuine, his fingers still tracing the cooling stripes on his chest.

    The barn smelled like sex and sweat and crushed grass. Adam sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the mess on his stomach. “So…” he began, then hesitated, his gaze flicking between us. “Does this make me gay now?”

    Tony barked a laugh and lit another cigarette. “Son,” he exhaled smoke towards the rafters, “right now you’re just a boy who got very lucky,” as he nudged my thigh with his foot. “Though if you want the full membership package…”

    Adam’s blush deepened, but his laugh was genuine this time. He leaned back in the hay, stretching like a contented cat, his body gleaming in the golden evening light filtering through the barn slats.

    “You can come back tomorrow,” Tony said, exhaling smoke toward the rafters. His fingers were tracing idle circles on my thigh. “Unless Steve here has drained you dry.”

    Adam grinned, a hint of mischief sparking behind his exhaustion. “I’ll bring my lunch,” he suggested, his fingers trailing through the mess on his stomach. “Maybe you’ll let me eat it out here while watching you two.”

    Tony’s chuckle was dark and promising. “Oh, we’ll give you something better to watch than sandwiches,” as he nudged my hip with his foot again. “Won’t we?”

    I stretched lazily, the hay prickling my bare skin. “We could always show him how to properly eat out,” I murmured, watching Adam’s pupils dilate at the implication.

    Adam swallowed hard, his fingers plucking nervously at the hay beneath him. His cock gave a valiant twitch against his thigh, already half-hard again despite his youthful exhaustion. “I should…” He gestured vaguely toward the farmhouse, his school clothes still discarded in the dirt. “Mum will be wondering why I’m late for dinner.”

    Tony smirked, tapping ash onto Adam’s bare knee. “Best not give her reasons to ask questions then,” as he plucked Adam’s shirt from the ground, tossing it at his chest.

    Adam stood up and walked to the fence outside the barn, and started to piss. His naked form, his bottom, unbelievably demanding to be touched and the flow of his water, beautiful to behold, was almost too much for me to resist. Shaking his cock afterwards, he scrambled to dress, his movements clumsy with lingering pleasure. His briefs were still damp when he pulled them up, the cotton clinging obscenely to his softening length as he tucked his impressive length inside. And then, pulling up his trousers and tucking in his shirt, provided another instance of desire that I would have to wait to sample.

    Now fully dressed, holding his pullover and backpack, he hesitated at the barn door, silhouetted against the fading light, his hand hovering on the latch. “Tomorrow?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After school tomorrow?”

    “I’m sure we can accommodate you, after school tomorrow. I could even give you a lift,” Tony declared.

    Adam’s answering laugh was bright with promise as he slipped out into the twilight, the barn door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud. The scent of hay and sex lingered in the air, mingling with Tony’s cigarette smoke and a nay from the horses in their stalls.

    I rolled onto my side, tracing the sweat-damp hollow of Tony’s throat. “You’re terrible,” I murmured, nipping at the stubble along Tony’s jaw. “Corrupting the local youth.”

    Tony’s hand slid possessively down my spine, coming to rest just above the curve of my arse. “Only the ones worth corrupting if you don’t mind,” he growled, his fingers tightening. “Now, what about one for the road?”


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  • The Scent of Him

    Anticipation

    The next day, I was a wreck of anticipation from the moment I woke up.

    Harry had left early for work, pressing a kiss to my forehead before heading out, and I’d spent the entire day in a state of heightened arousal, replaying yesterday’s session over and over in my mind. The memory of those rank socks pressed against my face, the overwhelming stench of his trainers, the way he’d dominated me so completely—it all had me half-hard for most of the day.

    He’d texted me around three in the afternoon: Gym after work. Be ready for me. On your knees by the door. Naked.

    My cock had immediately stiffened in my jeans, and I’d had to adjust myself discreetly at my desk. The rest of the workday had dragged interminably, every minute feeling like an hour as I watched the clock, counting down until I could go home and prepare myself for him.

    I’d left work early, claiming a headache, which wasn’t entirely untrue—I had an ache, just not in my head. By the time I got home, I had two hours to kill before Harry would arrive, and I spent them in a state of nervous, excited energy.

    I showered thoroughly, making sure I was completely clean for him. Harry liked me pristine before he made me filthy. I even douched, knowing that he’d probably want to fuck me again, and I wanted to be ready for whatever he had planned.

    Then I waited.

    I’d set myself up by the front door at half past five, kneeling on the hardwood floor completely naked, my cock already half-hard with anticipation. The position was uncomfortable, my knees aching against the hard surface, but that was part of it—the discomfort, the submission, the waiting.

    Every minute that ticked by felt like torture. My mind raced with possibilities. Would he use those same socks again? He’d said he wouldn’t wash them. The thought made my cock twitch. Eleven days of wear now, even more pungent, even more disgusting. Would he make me worship them again? Would he shove them in my mouth? Make me suck on them while he fucked me?

    I heard his car pull into the drive at quarter past six, and my heart rate immediately spiked. The sound of his door slamming, his footsteps on the path. I straightened my posture, head bowed, hands on my thighs, presenting myself exactly as he’d expect.

    The key turned in the lock.

    The door opened.

    And there he was.

    Harry stood in the doorway, gym bag slung over one shoulder, still in his workout gear—grey joggers and a black vest that clung to his torso, dark with sweat. His hair was damp, his face flushed from exertion, and even from where I knelt, I could smell him. That intoxicating mixture of sweat and musk and pure masculinity that made my mouth water.

    He looked down at me, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

    “Good boy,” he said, his voice low and approving. “Look at you, exactly where you belong.”

    “Thank you, Sir,” I replied, keeping my eyes lowered.

    He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and dropped his gym bag on the floor with a heavy thud. Then he just stood there for a moment, looking down at me, letting the anticipation build.

    “Did you think about me today, Luke?” he asked.

    “Yes, Sir. All day, Sir.”

    “Did you touch yourself?”

    “No, Sir. You didn’t give me permission.”

    “That’s right, I didn’t.” He reached down and gripped my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. His hand was slightly damp with sweat, and I could smell the gym on his skin. “Your cock belongs to me. Your arse belongs to me. Your mouth belongs to me. You don’t touch what’s mine without permission. Understood?”

    “Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir.”

    “Good.” He released my chin and stepped back. “I had a fucking brutal session today. Legs and cardio. I’m absolutely drenched.” He lifted one arm, and I could see the dark patches of sweat under his arms, could smell the sharp, acrid scent of it. “Can you smell me from there?”

    “Yes, Sir.”

    “And does it make you hard, you filthy little slut?”

    “Yes, Sir,” I admitted, my cock now fully erect and leaking slightly onto my thigh.

    Harry laughed, that deep, confident sound that always made me feel simultaneously small and cherished. “Of course it does. You’re such a fucking pervert, Luke. My perfect little pervert.”

    He bent down and unzipped his gym bag, rummaging inside for a moment before pulling out his trainers. The same ones from yesterday. Even from a distance, I could see how worn they were, how the fabric was stained with sweat and God knows what else.

    “I wore these again today,” he said, holding them up. “Didn’t even let them air out. Just shoved them back on this morning and went straight to the gym. They’re fucking rancid now.” He brought one up to his own nose and inhaled, then wrinkled his face in exaggerated disgust. “Christ, they absolutely reek. Can you imagine what they smell like inside?”

    My cock twitched visibly, and Harry noticed, grinning.

    “Oh, you want to find out, don’t you? You want to bury your face in these disgusting trainers and breathe in all that stale sweat and cum.”

    “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

    “Beg for it properly.”

    I swallowed, my mouth dry. “Please, Sir, may I smell your trainers? May I worship them? I want to smell how rank they are, Sir. I want to breathe in your scent. Please let me be your trainer-sniffing slut, Sir.”

    “Fuck, you’re good at this,” Harry said, his voice thick with arousal. I could see the bulge in his joggers now, his cock clearly hard beneath the grey fabric. “But not yet. First, I think you need to help me out of these sweaty clothes.”

    He stood directly in front of me, and I reached up with trembling hands to grip the waistband of his joggers. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the concentrated musk of his crotch even through the fabric.

    “Slowly,” he commanded. “I want you to savour this.”

    I obeyed, easing the joggers down inch by inch. He wasn’t wearing underwear—he never did at the gym—and his cock sprang free as I pulled the fabric down, already hard and glistening slightly at the tip. The smell hit me immediately, that concentrated, sweaty musk of his cock and balls after a workout, and I inhaled deeply without thinking.

    “That’s it,” Harry murmured. “Breathe it in. That’s what a real man smells like after he’s been working hard.”

    I continued pulling his joggers down, revealing his thick, muscular thighs, also glistening with sweat. When I reached his ankles, he stepped out of them, and I was confronted with his feet, still encased in those white trainer socks.

    The same socks from yesterday.

    Eleven days of wear.

    They were visibly dirty now, the white fabric yellowed and stained, particularly around the soles and toes. And the smell—even from a foot away, I could smell them, that sharp, vinegary stench of feet that had been trapped in trainers for far too long.

    “Take my vest off,” Harry ordered.

    I stood on shaky legs and reached for the hem of his vest, peeling the sweat-soaked fabric up over his torso. His skin was slick with perspiration, his muscles defined and perfect. I pulled the vest over his head, and he stood before me completely naked except for those socks.

    “Back on your knees,” he said.

    I dropped immediately, and he stepped closer, his cock now level with my face. It was fully hard, the head dark and swollen, a bead of precum forming at the slit.

    “You want this cock, don’t you?” he asked, gripping it at the base and giving it a slow stroke.

    “Yes, Sir.”

    “You want me to fuck your throat? Make you choke on it?”

    “Yes, Sir.”

    “Not yet.” He released his cock and instead lifted one foot, placing it on my shoulder. The smell intensified immediately, and I could see the sock up close now—the fabric worn thin in places, stained with sweat and dirt, absolutely filthy. “First, you’re going to worship these socks. You’re going to show me how much you love how disgusting they are.”

    “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

    He pressed his socked foot against my face, and I inhaled deeply, the stench filling my nostrils and making my head spin. It was even worse than yesterday—sharper, more pungent, with layers of accumulated sweat and bacteria. It should have been revolting. It was revolting. And I fucking loved it.

    “Smell it,” Harry commanded. “Take deep breaths. Fill your lungs with the stink of my feet.”

    I obeyed, breathing in through my nose, the smell so strong it was almost a taste. My cock throbbed, leaking steadily now, and I had to resist the urge to touch myself.

    “That’s it. Such a good little foot slut. Now lick it. Lick the bottom of my sock.”

    He lifted his foot slightly, presenting the sole to me, and I extended my tongue, dragging it along the dirty fabric. The taste was indescribable—salty and sour and bitter all at once, the flavour of concentrated sweat and grime. I could feel the texture of the worn fabric against my tongue, could taste the days of accumulated filth.

    “Fuck, look at you,” Harry groaned. “Licking my dirty sock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You’re such a fucking pervert, Luke. Such a disgusting little slut.”

    “Yes, Sir,” I mumbled against his foot, continuing to lick, my tongue working over every inch of the sole.

    “Now suck on my toes. Suck them through the sock.”

    I moved to the front of his foot, taking his big toe into my mouth through the fabric. The taste was even more concentrated here, where sweat accumulated between his toes, and I sucked hard, my tongue working around the digit, soaking the fabric with my saliva.

    “That’s it. Get it nice and wet. Suck all that sweat out of the fabric.”

    I moved from toe to toe, sucking each one, my mouth filling with the taste of him. The sock was soaked now with my saliva, clinging to his toes, and Harry was groaning above me, clearly getting off on my degradation.

    “Other foot,” he commanded, switching feet.

    I repeated the process, worshipping his other foot with the same devotion, licking the sole, sucking his toes, breathing in that overwhelming stench until my head was spinning and my cock was aching with need.

    “You love this, don’t you?” Harry asked, his voice thick. “You love being my foot bitch, my sock slut.”

    “Yes, Sir. I love it, Sir.”

    “Beg me to take them off. Beg me to let you worship my bare feet.”

    “Please, Sir,” I gasped, looking up at him with what I knew must be desperate eyes. “Please take off your socks. Let me worship your bare feet. Let me lick between your toes, taste your sweat directly. Please, Sir. I need it.”

    Harry grinned down at me, that predatory expression that made me feel like prey. “Since you asked so nicely.”

    He sat down on the sofa, and I crawled over to him, positioning myself at his feet. He lifted one foot, and I carefully peeled the sock off, revealing his bare foot beneath. His skin was slightly damp with sweat, and the smell intensified even further without the fabric barrier.

    “Smell it,” he ordered, holding his bare foot up to my face.

    I pressed my nose against his sole and inhaled deeply. The scent was overwhelming—pure, concentrated foot sweat, sharp and vinegary and absolutely intoxicating. My cock jerked, and I had to grip my thighs to keep from touching it.

    “Now lick. Clean my foot with your tongue.”

    I started at his heel, dragging my tongue up along his sole, tasting the salt of his sweat directly on my tongue. I worked methodically, covering every inch of his foot, licking between each toe, sucking on them individually, cleaning away the accumulated sweat and grime.

    “Good boy,” Harry murmured, his hand reaching down to stroke his cock slowly as he watched me. “Such a good little foot cleaner. Now the other one.”

    I removed his other sock and repeated the process, worshipping his foot with my mouth and tongue, losing myself in the taste and smell of him. By the time I’d finished, both his feet were clean and glistening with my saliva, and I was so hard I was afraid I might cum without even being touched.

    “Look at you,” Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. “Cock dripping everywhere, desperate to be touched. But you won’t touch it, will you? Because you’re a good boy who only cums when I give you permission.”

    “Yes, Sir. Only when you give me permission, Sir.”

    “That’s right.” He stood up, his cock bobbing in front of my face. “Now open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your throat, and you’re going to take it like the good little cock slut you are.”

    I opened my mouth obediently, and Harry gripped the back of my head, guiding his cock between my lips. He didn’t start gently—he pushed in deep immediately, hitting the back of my throat and making me gag.

    “That’s it. Choke on it. I want to feel your throat squeezing my cock.”

    He started thrusting, fucking my mouth with steady, deep strokes. I struggled to breathe through my nose, my eyes watering, saliva dripping down my chin. He was relentless, using my mouth for his pleasure, and I loved every second of it.

    “Such a good cock sucker,” he groaned. “Taking it so deep. You love having your throat fucked, don’t you?”

    I couldn’t respond with my mouth full, but I moaned around his cock, and he laughed.

    “Yeah, you do. Fucking slut.”

    He continued for several more minutes, his cock hitting the back of my throat repeatedly, until finally he pulled out, leaving me gasping and drooling.

    “Bedroom. Now. On your back.”

    I scrambled to my feet and practically ran to the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and positioning myself on my back, my legs spread, completely exposed and vulnerable.

    Harry followed more slowly, taking his time, letting the anticipation build. When he entered the bedroom, he was carrying his trainers and both socks.

    “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. “And while I do, you’re going to smell these.” He held up the trainers. “And taste these.” He held up the socks.

    My cock twitched violently at the thought.

    “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

    He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. He spat into his hand—we still weren’t using lube, the slight pain part of the experience—and slicked up his cock. Then he lifted my legs, draping them over his shoulders, and positioned himself at my entrance.

    “Beg for it,” he commanded.

    “Please fuck me, Sir. Please use my arse. I need your cock inside me. Please, Sir.”

    He pushed in slowly, and I gasped at the stretch, the burn. Even after yesterday, it was still intense, still overwhelming. He didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside me, his hips pressed against my arse.

    “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. “Such a perfect little fuck hole.”

    Then he started moving, long, deep strokes that had me gasping and moaning. He picked up one of his trainers and pressed it against my face, covering my nose and mouth.

    “Breathe,” he ordered.

    I inhaled deeply, the stench of the trainer filling my lungs—that concentrated smell of sweat and cum and pure masculine filth. It was overwhelming, making my head spin, and my cock throbbed against my stomach.

    “That’s it. Breathe in how disgusting I am. Breathe in the smell of my rank trainers while I fuck your arse.”

    He was pounding into me now, hard and fast, the trainer still pressed against my face. I was drowning in sensation—the stretch and burn of his cock, the overwhelming smell, the degradation of it all.

    Then he pulled the trainer away and shoved one of the socks into my mouth.

    “Suck on it,” he commanded. “Taste how rank it is.”

    I sucked obediently, the fabric soaked with eleven days of foot sweat flooding my mouth with that sour, salty taste. I could feel the texture of the worn fabric against my tongue, could taste every layer of accumulated grime.

    “Fuck, you look so good like this,” Harry groaned, his rhythm becoming more erratic. “Sucking on my filthy sock while I destroy your arse. Such a perfect little slut. My perfect little slut.”

    He was hitting my prostate with every thrust now, and I could feel my orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling in my lower abdomen. My cock was leaking steadily, creating a puddle on my stomach.

    “You’re going to cum for me,” Harry said, his voice strained. “You’re going to cum just from my cock and the taste of my sock. No touching. Just my cock in your arse and my sock in your mouth.”

    I moaned around the fabric, my body trembling, so close to the edge.

    “That’s it. Cum for me, Luke. Show me what a good boy you are. Cum while you’re sucking on my disgusting sock.”

    And I did. My orgasm hit me like a freight train, my cock jerking violently as I came all over my stomach and chest, rope after rope of cum painting my skin. I was moaning and gasping around the sock, my arse clenching rhythmically around Harry’s cock.

    “Fuck, yes,” Harry groaned, and I felt him swell inside me. “I’m going to fill your arse. Going to pump you full of my cum.”

    He thrust deep one final time and held there, and I felt the warmth of his release flooding my insides, felt his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into me.

    We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trembling and gasping, connected in the most intimate way possible. Then slowly, Harry pulled out, and I felt his cum start to leak out of my well-used hole.

    He pulled the sock from my mouth and tossed it aside, then leaned down, his tongue dragging through the cum on my stomach. He licked me clean, gathering every drop, then kissed me deeply, sharing the taste of my own release.

    When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, covered in sweat and cum and thoroughly satisfied.

    “Fuck,” Harry said, collapsing beside me. “That was even better than yesterday.”

    “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice hoarse. “It really was.”

    He pulled me against him, and I settled into his embrace, not caring about the mess, just wanting to be close to him.

    “Same time tomorrow?” he asked, echoing my question from the day before.

    I laughed weakly. “If I can still walk.”

    “That’s my boy,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “My perfect, filthy boy.”

    And as I drifted off, exhausted and satisfied and thoroughly debauched, I thought once again that there was nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, in his arms, covered in the evidence of our depravity.

  • The Devil’s Tail

    It was three years ago this month when I met Daddy Jerry on a random night at the bar. We acknowledged my submissive tendencies and his dominance. Within a week of that meeting we met at his place where I learned exactly what a devil’s tale whip could do. I couldn’t sit down for a few days afterwards and Daddy Jerry left me with a gaping butt hole after a good fisting.

    We’d texted a few times after that and just never found an available time to meet. After that, life just happened and we gave up.

    Three years later, I was at the very same bar where I’d met Daddy Jerry and within thirty minutes of my arrival, he walked in with a buddy. I had to look twice, he’d lost some weight in the three years and he looked taller and more confident in his black leather jacket. His beard looked trimmed, his jaw more square. His buddy was a Black man, grey beard, also 6’3”, looked pretty buff himself in a black leather jacket, a chest harness underneath. They both wore black leather Garrison caps.

    They walked up to the bar and ordered a couple of beers. For some reason I became very nervous seeing Daddy Jerry there and I felt my body tremble and I began to sweat. I was there all alone sipping a rum & Coke.

    I kind of hoped Daddy Jerry wouldn’t notice me as I was sitting at the corner and wasn’t very visible from where he and his buddy were sitting.

    It appeared they were engrossed in conversation and then Daddy Jerry got up and walked towards the men’s room. That’s when I was spotted.

    “Well I’ll be damned, how’s it goin’, boy? What’s it been now two, three years?”

    “Three I think, Daddy. It’s going ok, I guess.”

    “It’s great to see you, boy. You here alone tonight?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “You still being a good boy?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “I was just about to take a leak…if you wanted to drink straight from the tap?”

    “Oh, I guess I wasn’t expecting that, Daddy?”

    “Oh, but a good boy like you, I’m sure you’d do anything I ask if I remember correctly.”

    “Yes Daddy”, I said bashfully.

    “So why are you still sitting on that stool? Do you want Daddy to punish you?”

    “No Daddy”

    “Yeah, I don’t believe that for a minute. I remember how you took that devil’s tail so well. Now follow me, and if you are a good boy, I’ll introduce you to my fiancé. I bet he’d have a good time with you, boy.”

    Daddy Jerry tapped his foot impatiently and I pried myself off the stool and he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the toilets.

    There were three urinals on the wall. The one furthest was in use, Daddy Jerry pushed me between the available ones and pointed to the gross tile floor.

    I knew what he wanted, I kneeled and watched Daddy Jerry fish his big stick from his jeans. It was nearly as thick as a beer can and just as long. I opened my mouth and Daddy placed the head of his cock into my mouth, and then an inch or so more. I wrapped my lips around it and Daddy started to fill my throat with the most acrid, putrid fluid I’d ever tasted. Sensing I was either going to gag or pull off, Daddy Jerry pushed my head down further and held the back of my head firmly.

    “It’s either going down your throat or all over you, boy! Take a pick!”

    I did my best to swallow as much as I could with some dripping down my chin and the sides of my cheeks, but overall, I was pretty successful. It was a heavy flow that left such a bitter aftertaste I couldn’t wait to drink some water or my cocktail to get rid of it.

    “I knew you’d be a good boy. I promised you a reward. Get up., boy.”

    I followed him like a puppy out of the toilets and back to the bar. At least he let me pick up my drink along the way.

    “Boy, this is my fiancé. You can call him MasterJerrell.”

    “Hello Master Jerrell”, I said timidly.

    “I met this boy here three years ago and introduced him to my devil’s tail, didn’t I, boy?”

    “Yes Daddy.”

    “Tell Master Jerrell what you just did for me, boy.”

    “I drank your piss, Daddy”

    “No, tell Master Jerrell, not me. I know exactly what you did, boy”

    “I drank Daddy Jerry’s piss, Master

    Jerrell.”

    “And did you enjoy it, boy?”, Master Jerrell asked.

    “No, I mean yes, Sir.”

    “Which one is it? Yes or no? And I’m not your Sir, never call me that, understand, boy?”

    “I enjoyed it, Master Jerrell. Yes, understood.”, I wasn’t being honest.

    “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, but I just met you so I’ll let it go, boy.”

    “So you came here all alone, boy? Were you hoping I’d show up?”, Daddy Jerry asked.

    “No Daddy, I was just out is all.”

    “Before you left to come here, did you clean your boyhole out?”, he asked.

    “Yes Daddy”

    “So you were hoping to find someone to take your ass tonight, boy?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “Finally, the boy is being honest”, Master Jerrell said.

    “Boy, why don’t you tell Master Jerrell what I did to you when we played together?”

    Daddy Jerry was deliberately humiliating me. I was turning crimson I was so embarrassed. My caged cock was yearning to brick. Blunted, my groin ached.

    “Daddy, please, no.”

    “Oh, come on boy. Don’t be bashful. Master Jerrell loves a good story. Don’t you want to please him, boy?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “So take a sip of your drink, and do as I say.”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “Good boy”

    “Daddy Jerry locked me into a stockade. I was blindfolded and my nipples were clamped. Daddy Jerry whipped me so many times and so hard with the devil’s tale, I couldn’t sit for days.”

    “You’re leaving out some of the details. I know you didn’t forget them, boy.”

    “Daddy Jerry inserted the devil’s tail handle inside my butt hole and fucked me with it. Then Daddy fisted me.”

    “Fisted you, that’s great!”, Master Jerrell said excitedly.

    “You left out something that I do recall, boy. Remember how I whipped your balls? You were screaming. It was delightful hearing you beg me for mercy!”

    “I remember, Daddy. It did hurt a lot.”

    “But you took it like a champ. All of it. You made me so proud, boy. Jerrell, this boy can take a good whipping, I have to give him credit. I didn’t go easy on him.”

    “I’ve seen you in action, Jerry. I know what you’re capable of. Definitely not for beginners.”

    “No, it was a good time. I’m just sorry I never got another chance to play with this boy again.”

    “Well, maybe tonight’s the night then, Jerry. The boy doesn’t look like he’s got anything to do, do you, boy? And you did clean out your cunt for some action, didn’t you, boy?”

    I took a huge gulp before I answered because I knew whatever I said next was pivotal.

    “No Master, I have no plans, and yes, I was looking to find someone to hook up with.”

    “Well, now you do have plans, boy. I think you’re coming home with us. Between the two of us, there’s plenty of dick just for you, and even more if you’re a good boy.”, Master Jerrell offered.

    “Yes Master, yes Daddy.”

    “Do you mind Jerry? I gotta piss from drinking all this beer.”

    “Why would I mind? The boy likes being a piss bucket, don’t you, boy?”

    I hesitated, because although I have dabbled in piss play, I don’t love it.

    “Don’t you boy?”, he asked more firmly.

    “Yes Daddy.”

    “Yes Daddy what? And don’t tell me, tell Master Jerrell.

    “I love being a piss bucket, Master Jerrell.”

    “Well that’s good. Then show me, boy.”

    I followed Master Jerrell to the toilets again.

    “Where did Jerry have you earlier, boy?”

    “Over there, Master James”, I said pointing to the spot.

    “I can tell, there’s some piss on the floor. Did you miss some?”

    “Yes Master Jerrell. It was a lot.”

    “Let’s see if you can do better this time, boy. On your knees!”

    When Master Jerrell pulled his huge cock from his pants I nearly passed out. It was a good seven inches soft! Thick as a baseball bat!

    I had to open my jaw so wide I thought it would dislocate, just to take in the head and two inches!

    Master Jerrell wasn’t playing. He pushed me over the urinal, my head horizontal to the urinal cake and he started to drown me. It was absolutely disgusting. His piss tasted like poison it was so bitter and so strong. When I started to spit it out, Master Jerrell desecrated  my face covering me in his string scented piss.

    “Open your mouth you filthy pig!”, he yelled.

    I did as I was told and more urine made its way down my throat, burning my insides along the way. After he’d shaken his cock over my face, Master Jerrell pushed my face into the urinal cake and flushed. I was soaked.

    “Come on, boy. Next time you’ll try harder, won’t you?”

    “Yes Master”, I said sheepishly. My face and my hair were dripping.

    “What happened, Jerrell?”

    “The boy spit it out. I had to teach him a lesson, didn’t I?”

    “Yes, of course.”, Daddy said.

    “I thought you said this boy was obedient, Jerry. Should we even waste our time?”

    “I am definitely disappointed, but I am sure he’ll make it up to, won’t you, boy?”, Daddy asked.

    “Yes Daddy”, I said through clenched teeth looking like a horror show and probably smelling like one, too. Everyone was looking at me, it was so degrading, but yet I relished the attention.

    Master Jerrell put some cash down on the bar.

    “The boy better be worth my time, Jerry. Last time we took one of your boys home it didn’t go well.”

    “I’m telling you, this one is different. You can really fuck him up, I promise.”

    “There’s only one way to find out. Let’s go boy. Let’s see if you’re even worth my time!”

    I walked between Master Jerrell and Daddy Jerry. I think Daddy wanted to be sure I didn’t get away.

    “Dry your face, boy. I don’t want you dripping all over my seats.”, Master Jerrell said.

    I looked confused. What was I to dry my face with?

    “Use your shirt, boy! Take off your shirt and dry off your face. Jerry, you didn’t tell me the boy was dumb. You left that part out!”

    “Jerrell, I’m telling you man, you’re gonna love whipping this boy. I know it.”

    I pulled my shirt over my head and used it to wipe all of the moisture off my face and my hair. It smelled pretty bad.

    We drove 15 minutes or so to their place. It wasn’t where we played before.

    “Jerrell  and I moved here a couple of months ago”, Master Jerry said.

    “Wait until you see our dungeon, you’re going to love it.”

    I found myself so confused. On one hand I was so excited and in the other I was very scared and nervous, I hadn’t set out for this when I left my apartment. I thought I’d get a vanilla hook up, a pump-n-dump, nothing more.

    When we pulled in to the garage and parked, I stepped out of the car.

    “Everything off”, Master Jerrell barked. “Only real men wear clothes in this house!”

    First I pulled off my shoes and socks, then my jeans. I wore a royal blue Gym jock with a two inch waistband, very classic, it was tight enough to display the ridges and curves of my Cobra cage underneath.

    “Jerry, you didn’t tell me the boy was locked. How intriguing!”

    “He wasn’t when I met him, Jerrell. Who holds the key, boy, or are you self-locked?”

    “No, a fuck buddy of mine has the key, Daddy.”, I whispered due to dry mouth.

    “Say what? Speak up boy!”, Master Jerrell yelled.

    “A fuck buddy of mine holds the key, Daddy and Master!”

    “How long have you been locked up, boy?”

    “Thirteen months, Daddy!”

    “Holy shit, Jerry. That takes some real discipline and obedience. Maybe this boy will redeem himself after all. Not much of a piss bucket, but has potential. Let’s get inside, I’m feeling like I need to try this boy on for size.” Master Jerrell said miscieviously.

    I followed the two men downstairs and was amazed by the space. A large room completely fitted out with a sling, fuck bench, the stockade I’d been in before, a St. Andrew’s cross secured to a wall. It even looked like there were hooks on the ceiling and in the cement floor. There was a large steel cage in one corner and shelves of toys and lubes, hooks filled with whips, paddles, straps…whatever you could think of, they had it in multitudes.

    I was really wide eyed looking at all of this and once again my body started to shake. I was cold, too.

    Daddy Jerry was next to me and wrapped me in his arms.

    “It’s ok boy, we won’t let anything happen to you. We’re just going to have some fun. You want to make us happy don’t you, boy?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “I know you do. I know you like to have fun, too. I remember it quite well. How about we get you warmed up, boy. Would you like that?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “Good boy.”

    I felt a little better after Daddy Jerry reassured me.

    “Hey Jerry, quit coddling the boy. It’s time to get things going down here. How about we hang him upside down?”

    “Jerrell, there’s plenty of time for that. Let’s do something a little less ambitious first. Bring me the spreader.”

    Master Jerrell brought a black iron ankle spreader over and Daddy Jerry secured me to it, at the same time had zip tied the spreader bar to the eye hooks that were secured into the floor. My feet were flush to the ground, my legs spread open fairly wide and unable to move not even a centimeter.

    Master Jerrell turned a switch on the wall and a bar was lowered a few inches.

    Daddy Jerry took each of my wrists and handcuffed them to one hook that hung over my head. My pits smelled rank from nervousness.

    Daddy Jerry put his nose to one of them.

    “Jerrell, come over here and take a whiff. This boy smells like fear.”

    Master Jerrell and Daddy Jerry were each sniffing into my exposed and stretched pits, and then they started to tickle me. I was trying to stifle my giggles and I hated that I was unable to move very much.

    “I think this boy is ready, Jerry. Can I go first?”

    “Be my guest. What are you thinking?”

    “I’m thinking the flogger. That should warm him up before we go harder.”

    “Yes, good idea.”

    Daddy Jerry brought a heavy duty mean looking flogger over to Master Jerrell who removed his leather jacket and was now wearing only the harness. He was definitely more cut and defined than I expected, and his chest was covered in thick white curly hairs.

    His face had the most sinister look I’d ever seen.

    Master Jerrell stood next to me, his hand caressed my chest, my thighs, then my back and my butt.

    “Yes, yes…this is perfect. This creamy white boy is going to be colored red by the time I’m done with him, Jerry.”

    Then he unexpectedly kissed me full on the lips before taking a few steps back, straight and to my left. He whipped the flogger around with his wrist, I could hear it whirling through the air before it struck me right across the chest.

    “Owwww”, I yelped.

    That didn’t seem to phase Master Jerrell.

    He cut across my abdomen with five successive blows one after the other, the fifth with great emphasis.

    That woke me up and I yowled.

    “This won’t do, Jerry. Get the ball gag!”

    Daddy Jerry secured a ball gag between my jaw and it was tight.

    Before starting up again, Master Jerrell fastened clothespins on my balls and then all over my torso, including my nipples. They were biting into my skin as they were metallic, not wooden.

    Now satisfied, MasterJerrell went for my upper back and the backs of my thighs before wailing on my ass.

    “Put your hips back boy, show me that white ass!”

    Master Jerrell went apeshit on it. I couldn’t jump forward, but I sure did try.

    “Grab a flogger, Jerry, you get the back and I’ll get his front.”

    The two men found a rhythm and took those floggers to me like masters of their craft.  There was no reprieve, my hide was stinging fiercely.

    At one point I closed my eyes and took deep meditative breaths. The transformation was gradual, the fine line from pain to pleasure, and once I’d crossed over, I felt like I was levitating, each blow brought a level of euphoria I hadn’t experienced in many months.

    I wanted more, but I was gagged so I couldn’t exactly ask for it. As much as I could do I stuck my ass out and my chest, too, accepting what I was given so willingly.

    I don’t know how much time passed when the beating stopped. Master Jerrell had cracked the clothes pins off of my body long ago, as each one tore off, it felt like an inferno rising in my soul. The remaining clothespins were still gangling from the skin of my scrotum.

    They both roamed their hands all over my body.

    “You want to do the honors or shall I, Jerry?”

    “Be my guest.”

    One by one Master Jerrell removed each of this clothes pins from my balls and they ached so beautifully.

    When Daddy Jerry removed the cuffs from my wrists, Master Jerrell caught me.

    “You did well, boy”, he said.

    Daddy Jerry took the ankle spreader off.

    “You ok, boy?”, he asked while I shook my legs back to life.

    “Mmm hmmm”, I said through the gag.

    I was still feeling the rush, the endorphins flying through my veins. It felt like I was on speed.

    “Want more boy?”, Master Jerrell asked hopefully.

    “Mmm hmm”, I mumbled.

    “Excellent! Jerry let’s try the cross. You get him settled and I’ll get the whip.”

    Daddy had me face the wall, my already pink bottom and back we’re going to be striped by the time this was over.

    Master Jerrell cracked the whip on the cement floor a few times to intimidate me, and it almost worked. I’d somehow put myself into a very calm hypnotic trance. I was ready for it.

    And it came. The hard sting right across my upper back. I barely flinched, and it cut into my flesh. I grunted almost like I was getting my ass fucked.

    “I told you, Jerrell, the boy can take it. Go harder.”

    This time I heard Jerrell grunt, putting his full body into it as it cracked across my ass, two, three, four times in a row. Each one landing right across my globes. The searing burn was fantastic.

    I stuck my ass out for Master Jerrell.

    “Ohhh you see this, Jerry? This boy is eager for it. You want more do you, boy?”

    “Pllleeathe!” I mumbled through the gag.

    “Fuck Jerry! Where’d you find this boy?”

    This time Master Jerrell went for the backs of my thighs and ankles. I leaned into it, shaking my ass, I wanted more on my ass!

    Master Jerrell made my butt sing with absolute venom I could feel myself being reborn, coming alive, every nerve ending in my body was in sensory overload.

    More blows, and then I was turned around for some torso and front thigh work. Each stinging blow made me edge closer and closer to orgasm. I felt like I was either going to jizz or cry.

    Just when I was there, on the brink of something, it stopped.

    But Daddy Jerry saw what was happening, the way my body had reacted, and knew I needed just something more to take me to rapture. He began to beat my balls with a leather strap, harder and harder until my entire body convulsed and cum dribbled right down my cage into my jock. I was shaking and when it was over I went limp and it it wasn’t for the shackles I would have fallen. I’d gone limp and started to sob uncontrollably.

    Daddy Jerry dropped the strap and removed the gag, and the shackles and hugged me. My entire body was on fire. I’d taken a hard whipping. Broken skin on my chest and my abs, my thighs, I was sure my butt and back were even worse.

    Daddy and Jerrell were great at providing me with physical and emotional aftercare and ensuring I was ok.

    Once they were certain I was strong enough to continue on, they asked if I was up for some butt play.

    “Yes”, I said rather quickly.

    “Good boy”, Daddy Jerry said.

    “How about we get you in the sling?”, Master Jerrell offered.

    He carried me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and the two men made me comfortable in the sling and placed my wrists and ankles in the stirrups. I wasn’t going to admit it, but lying back in that sling did nothing to soothe the wounds on my back, but I was too hyped up to care about that in the moment.

    “You want to open him up for me Jerry?”

    “Yeah, I’d love to.”

    Master Jerrell stood behind me and had me sniff some poppers while Daddy Jerry put his hard beer can cock in my ass. Damn, I’d forgotten how thick that fuck stick was, and I was dilating quickly from the chemicals.

    Daddy Jerry went slow at first, but Master Jerrell pushed the sling forward and I was soon plunging down over it, swinging wildly as it plugged and unplugged me, I was very loose in no time.

    “My turn”, Master Jerrell insisted.

    The two men switched places. Now Daddy was feeding me a steady stream of the brown bottle while that wrist-thick dick was dicking my poor hole. It felt as long as a flag pole and as thick as a tennis ball can. I was losing my shit, my hole was being annihilated.

    After taking turns fucking my ass, neither of them came just yet. They had stripped my cum soaked jock off of me before getting me in the sling. I could see more clear fluid continuously dripping down the side of my cage.

    “You smoke weed, boy?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    “You want some before we fist you?”

    “Yes Daddy”

    Daddy Jerry walked away while Master Jerrell played in my hole with some lubed up fingers.

    “I can’t wait to open up this cunt boy!”, he said.

    Daddy Jerry returned with a lit joint. Given my hands were tied, he placed the joint between my lips. Between the three of us, we each took three tokes. In just a few minutes, with the added poppers, my hole was loosening up. My head was spinning out and there was a hunger building in my cunt.

    Master Jerry put the bottle of x-lube inside my butthole and squeezed, then coated both his hands with it.

    “Please”, I begged.

    I wanted it. I needed a fist.

    Master Jerrell corkscrewed his duckbilled fingers inside me, twisting slowly back and forth, easing my hole open. I somehow managed to push my legs back more, inviting Master to go further. And with a third hit of poppers and a last hit off the joint, the fist was inside me wrist deep.

    Daddy held my feet back, exposing my gaping pucker.

    “Oh yeah. Look at that. His cunt swallowed your fist, Jerrell.”

    Master slowly turned his wrist from side to side, working the perimeter of my chute open, corkscrewing his  was into me, opening me wider and little deeper, worming his way through.

    I was loving it. Noises escaped me in high octaves and I saw clouds of color and light under my eyelids. It was marvelous.

    And when Master began to slowly punch my pussy lips out, i started to piss a little bit.

    “Look at him squirting, Jerry!”

    “Fuck, he loves it. Let me get in there, too!”

    Daddy Jerry lubed up his left hand and pried some fingers along side Master Jerrell’s. They worked as a team, slowly prying my ditch open wider, until Daddy’s thumb tucked inside and I now had taken both men’s fists. Daddy Jerry added more lube and slowly pushed the sling up and back, each time I felt my cunt lips open wider and swell more.

    Master Jerrell undid the wrist cuffs so I could popper up on my own. Once I did, I felt my cunt loosen even more as it ravenously took double barrel punches. I had an out of body climax, my entire body shook as more semen seeped down my cage.

    Daddy Jerry pulled his hand out and it was replaced by Master Jerrell’s hard cock. Master stroked his cock off inside my wrecked pussy, flooding it was his ball juice.

    Daddy Jerry followed. My cunt was made into a sloppy pig trough.

    The two men were exhausted, as was I.

    It was now almost 2 am. We’d been at it for nearly four hours.

    “Boy, you need to go home now?”, Daddy Jerry asked.

    “No, but I don’t mind calling a Lyft.”

    “No, you will stay with us tonight. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. We put you through it tonight, didn’t we Jerrell?”

    “Fuck yeah. Boy, I gotta give it to you. I really thought Jerry was full of shit, but you did better than most.”

    “How about we all take a quick shower and get some sleep”, Daddy Jerry said like a true daddy.

    “Yes Daddy.”

    One by one we took showers. I especially made sure to clean out my cunt cave as it truly was a pigsty back there.

    Daddy Jerry had me sleep between them on their king bed and he cuddled me.

    “Good night, boy.”, he said as he stroked my hair until I fell asleep.


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