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One brother down , two to go. The next one, Diego who happened to be my younger brother had just called and said he was half a hour away. As Jose was leaving, he mentioned his brother, Johnny was in town. I said really, maybe we could get together and drink some beers and talk about growing up together in the same neighborhood. Jose said that would be great as he patted my ass and left.

I quickly jumped in the shower to ready my ass  for the next cock. After showering, I sat there waiting, smoked a joint, lost in the thoughts of Diego. I found myself thinking about his 10 inch cock and started to get hard. Then the doorbell rang, as I opened the door, I came face to face with my brother, Diego who seduced me or maybe it was the other way around years ago.

As we said our pleasantries, I asked whether he wanted something to drink. I gave him a beer and we sat talking about the family. I noticed right away how his cock was growing  and he broke the ice by saying if I wanted him to shower and I said no, wanting to enjoy his musk which drove me crazy. Abruptly,  he got up and pulled his cock out. He said, on your knees which I obediently did. As I neared his ebony monster I could smell that masculine musk I had mentioned before. Part of the head of his cock was still halfway covered by its foreskin. 

I took the head in my mouth and he immediately groaned rocking back and forth on his heels, starting to feed me his cock. I swallowed him to his balls which was a feat in itself but having sucked off many huge cocks, experience came in handy. As I sucked, I unbuttoned his jeans I pulled them with his briefs until they rest on his ankles above his sneakers.

I concentrated my sucking to the head of his cock , exploring and lapping the slit where soon his thick white cum would shoot from to feed my thirst. Diego started to fuck my mouth with his need to relieve a weeks load in his balls. I stopped sucking and said let’s get rid of our clothes. I watched as he shucked his sneakers, stepping out of jeans and briefs. I got up and undressed before him watching him ease out of the tee shirt. I said let’s go to the bedroom. 

We fell on the bed, and he proceeded to kiss and lick my body, ending up near my mouth. Then he started to explore my mouth with a deep profound kiss which sent chills through my body. Now he was in control and do what ever his wanted. I was his bitch to enjoy and he knew it. He positioned my legs hanging off the edge of the bed, raising my legs to rest on his shoulders. He asked if I wanted for him to put his cock inside and I said yes.

I felt the head enter forcefully without any lubricant, feeling every inch of his cock slide in til his balls rested against my ass. He then started to fuck me and even reached down to jack me off at the same time. Diego’s cock shaft  was hitting my g spot and in no time my load of cum covered my belly and chest. Then I felt his cock swell and with one final plunge to the hilt he filled my ass with his load. I could actually feel all spurts of the his cum, feeling their pulses each time one would leave his balls. He fell exhausted on top of me and continued to fuck me making sure I had received all he had in his balls.

We laid there, trying to catch our breaths til he finally eased out of me. i was amazed how just before it’s size was enormous now it resembled  the cock on the Statue of David in Florence with its foreskin covering its head. Diego stood before me as I peeled back his foreskin still oozing spent cum. I proceeded to suck out the remains, wanting to taste it. 

A Boss and His Boy Story

I wake early, heart racing. The dream that woke me fading into incoherent oblivion as I suddenly remember exactly where I am. In a cage at the foot of some guy’s bed. The gloom of the moments before dawn shade the room and the low light muddies specific details of the furniture and colours. The room is quiet. There are no sounds of activity throughout the rest of the house. Either the occupants are still sleeping or I’m alone.

My limbs are heavy with exhaustion. I can barely move them, but I crawl to the end of the cage to open the door. It doesn’t budge. Cold anxiety trickles through me. Hoping that the cage is just closed and not locked, I fumble around with my hand through the bars of the cage on the roof, seeking the latch or lock. After a few awkward seconds, I realise it’s useless and my urgent panic increases. I frantically push on the door again and become more desperate when each attempt is as futile as the last.

A knot threatens to close my throat as hot tears form and trickle down my cheeks. I hyperventilate, my vision darkening as I whimper, my head spinning. I need to get out of here. Now. In the dim light ahead of me, something shifts. I scurry to the back of the cage, hugging my knees to my chest and freeze, my already racing shallow breath increases in speed. From where I am, in the brightening room, I can just make out his feet and lower legs as he lounges back in a leather armchair across from me. How long has he been sitting there waiting for me to wake up?

“Boy, you’re hyperventilating. If you don’t deliberately slow your breath and consciously exhale, you will pass out.” A low, velvety baritone.

I scramble my hands over the bars in a frenzy, trying to find a way out.

“Boy, stop. Listen to me, breathe out slowly and deliberately. Do it now.”

He hasn’t raised his voice. There’s no urgency in his tone, just a calm, measured confidence that is slightly hypnotic. Following his directions, I stop and slow my breath.

“Good boy, slower, exhale longer, slow it down, that’s it. Good, just like that.”

As his words of praise and encouragement fall over me, I feel my light-headedness ease, my heart rate slowing. My racing mind calming with it, allowing me to collect my thoughts.

“Good. It’s ok boy, you’re having a perfectly natural reaction, it’s expected. Everyone goes through this. I’ve got you. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

I’m finding it difficult to focus on his reassurance completely. “Let me out. Let me out, now. NOW!” I hear my thin voice rise pathetically as the panic rapidly returns and threatens to swamp me.

“Shh, calm, breathe. It’s ok boy, I’m going to let you out, but not until you’re calm. Can you do that for me, boy? Shh, just breathe, listen to my voice, focus on your breath, breathe, be calm. Shhhh.”

I don’t know how he’s doing it, but when I simply listen to his smooth voice and follow his instructions, I can feel myself backing away from the edge of hysteria. The assertive reassurance of his confident presence is so warm that I desire to melt into it.

He waits in steady silence as I slow everything down, and after a few more moments of me calming myself, he shifts, leaning forward in his seat and looking at me through the bars. “Come here, boy.” I slowly creep forward. He’s wrapped in a white towel, bare chested, his hair still wet from a recent shower.

It’s now that I realise the slight fragrance in the room is coming from him. I’ve probably used the same soap. He smells so fresh and ordinary, and it adds to his ability to reassure me. I take a quick moment to assess him, his broad muscular chest and arms covered in soft dark hair, his neatly trimmed beard. A calmness exudes from him. His face is commanding and kind, patient and confident. He looks like there is no situation he couldn’t handle. He’s a leader. The sort of man that men instinctively trust and defer to. In a towel.

He sits back, crossing one ankle over the thigh near the knee, and I glimpse the head of his cock under the towel. A burst of memory, his cock thrusting inside me, rouses confused desire through my body. My throat and pussy ache for its return and a warmth grows through my loins. The flustered awkwardness of my reaction at even the briefest glimpse of his cock causes my face to flush. I swallow hard and reluctantly look away.

“Look at me, boy.” The slightest of smiles is the only evidence that he saw my reaction, and I suspect that he deliberately positioned himself so that he would get that exact response from me.

I lift my gaze to look into his eyes. As he locks them onto me, I’m momentarily unable to find adequate words to describe what they do to me. How they make me feel, or why my heart lurches in my chest. They’re soft and flinty. Both frightening and firmly reassuring. Potentially cruel, yet also kind, patient and compassionate. Distantly friendly, they are warm, deep pools of mystery and adventure. My heart races again, now no longer with fear, but with excitement, anticipation and trepidation.

“I understand that right now it’s hard for you to trust me boy, why should you? Believe me when I say to you, I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t want to harm you or abuse you. I am not your enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact. You have something that I want, something I’ve been looking for, and you’re going to give it to me. In return, I will unlock the deepest recesses of what hides inside you, the potential and promise that you guard so heavily, the secret that you firmly believe no one sees. I see it, boy, I see it clearly, and you are going to give it to me. I can see that you want to give it to me. To put it simply, boy, I want to set you free.”

The incredulous look that sweeps over my face has to be priceless. The pure absurd irony of his words settles in the silence. This cunt, I’m literally captive to him in a cage. I can’t help but let out a bitter snort as I turn my head slowly away. “Fuck you.”

“Ahh, there he is. There’s my boy. And yes, boy, you will.” He smirks, the light of challenge brimming in those inscrutable eyes.

My head snaps back to look at him as I throw the words at his feet. “No seriously, go fuck yourself, you cunt. I’m not giving you shit. Fucking let me out of here.”

“Boss,” he says.

“What?” He keeps throwing me off balance.

“Fucking let me out of here, Boss.”

It’s incredibly subtle, but his face has hardened. He hasn’t raised his voice, yet there’s a controlled iciness in his tone that has me momentarily hesitating. A threat is in the air. As I reflect, I realise I haven’t seen him lose control once. He’s always in charge of himself, his situation and others. It’s disconcerting and alluring. A deep instinctive urge to give in to him rises within me. As I ponder the possibility of surrendering to him, my incredibly powerful sense of self rises and I hear:

“You are not my fucking Boss. I am not your boy, your slut, or your fucking property. Let me out of here. Now.”

He sighs as he stands and undoes his towel, momentarily standing completely naked in front of me, his large thick cock so firmly erect that the head nearly brushes his belly button. A silky drip of pre-cum descends toward the floor, glistening in the light. He rearranges his towel to cover himself and slowly lowers his arms by his side.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, my boy. You seem to have forgotten so quickly. I said to you yesterday, and I’ll give you the mercy of repeating myself this one time, we can do this nice or we can do this nasty. It’s entirely up to you, slut, your choice.”

“I can either break you into a million pieces and painstakingly reform you into my obedient and willing faggot slave, the operative word there being ‘pain’, or you can choose to remember where you belong and who you belong to. You will take your place by my side as my slut, my toy and my property, willingly giving to me, yielding to me what has always been mine. My boy. One way is cruel, the other is kind. One way you are a mere object to be used, the other you are a cherished possession owned by a protective, caring Master.”

“I’m disappointed at how quickly you seem to have forgotten your vow to me, slut. Now, I will return in two hours. You have that long to consider what I’ve said, boy. I have given you a choice. So choose.”

Panic and regret swiftly replace the growing distress of hearing his disappointment in me as he turns and strides out of the door.

“Wait! No! I’m sorry. Boss, please come back. No, please, don’t leave me in here. Boss. Please. No, no, I’m sorry. Boss! Please!” I sob as the door softly closes.

I cry, frustrated, for a few minutes in the dawn light infusing the room, slowly composing myself. I try to think but my mind is so full. The memory of that incredibly hard cock and drip of pre-cum descending toward the floor making it impossible to concentrate.

***

After about fifteen minutes, any hope I had that he would relent and return fades. My overwhelming exhaustion overtakes my panic, and I lay on my side numbly staring into the distance.

My mind inevitably drifts to the events of the day before. Reflecting on the choices and powerful desires that had led to me even being in the park. The grip of his hand constricting my throat. Manhandling and wrangling me with calm strength. The exquisite sensation of multiple men using me, relentlessly fucking me into submission with their gloriously hard cocks. How all three of them treated me exactly as they desired, getting their fill from me. Being their eager and willing boy quenching their masculine thirst.

The look of pride and happiness in Boss’s eyes, those incredible, beautiful eyes. The delicious praise that dripped with low, throaty desire as I gave him what he wanted. What I wanted. Such a good boy. My cock stiffens in the cool air as I reminisce, aching to feel the touch of Boss’s strong broad hands, yearning for some resistance to thrust against. A screen flicks on.

There, in high definition on a 75 inch screen, is a replay of what was just in my mind. I am instantly transfixed and unable to look away in horrified fascination. His uncanny ability to know my thoughts and desires simultaneously arouses and alarms me.

The footage taken from Box-Cutter’s and 2nd’s phones as they fucked me over and over in a heated frenzy, replays. Their moans of pure ecstatic pleasure as my hole hungrily gave them their frantic, frustrated release. The way my pussy gaped achingly for their thrusts and thick throbbing members.

What I thought I was hiding so well, is right there in intimate detail on the screen. My face, awash with bliss as I grind back, shimmying my hips with animal lust. Grunting and panting. I can’t escape the truth. I was there looking for action and when I got more than I could have ever dreamed of, the slut in me fully embraced and enjoyed every second, lapped up every exquisite moment.

The half-hearted protests, the incredibly weak attempts to resist.

The pure, open joy on my face as Boss clips the collar around my neck, the collar I’m still wearing. I shift uncomfortably as I see the eager, desperate surrender and hear myself scandalously giving him my submission, giving myself over to him. Begging him to own me, to be inside me, to make me his. Thanking him. Affirming that I’m his slut, his toy, his property.

I watch the lube and cum, infused with piss dripping down from my gaping cunt as I finally surrender to Boss’s fist inside me. My gaze entranced as I watch myself become an eager whore, inevitably succumbing to my deep need for a proper Master.

After all of that, the extreme tenderness and care with which Boss scooped me up to bring me home. Crooning to me about his beautiful boy. How proud he is of me. Letting me know he will take care of me. He will protect me and not allow any harm to come to me. My head resting deliriously happy against him.

A tear rolls down my face and my breath catches in my throat as I hear his tender care, the words of pride and encouragement that I couldn’t comprehend in my state of bliss and delirium the day before. Then the screen goes dark.

The inescapable reality of who I am crashes home. Is this truly who I am, what I am? It can’t be. As I lay on my back in the silence, I find my answer in my body’s reaction to the video and the brutal way they treated me. My incredibly hard twitching cock and pre-cum oozing all over my lightly furred stomach whispers to me exactly what I’m too afraid to admit to myself.

A prideful, stubborn resistance rears up against this revelation. A scared, hunted desperation, frantically working to deny it, to reject it. No! No. He took me. I was confused. I will NOT surrender to him. As I pause, my emotion quickly betrays me, and I feel the desire to surrender to him returning. It’s so strong in me I can visualize myself kneeling before him.

Deep inside, no longer hidden, is a desperation to allow his domination and ownership of me. The idea of becoming his cherished possession fills me with longing and pride. That he would even want to own me, that he would choose me, causes a deep aching longing within me. Yet the streak of resistance refuses to give in. I softly cry again as I struggle to reconcile the internal conflict. On the one hand, I want to be owned by this incredible man, but I cannot easily break the conditioning of fierce independence.

***

It’s uncertain how long I had been wrestling with my nature when I notice the uncomfortable fullness of my bladder. The pressure of holding it in as I wait for him to return is already at a level of thought piercing discomfort. Having noticed my need, it rapidly intensifies.

I close my eyes, wincing as I take hold of my cock. Perhaps if I squeeze hard enough, it will help. It does briefly, but the insistence of the pain and pressure in my bladder overwhelms even that momentary relief. I cross my legs, squeezing and pushing down on my cock, but it’s no use. I can feel that I’m going to lose control at any moment.

My breath is now coming in ragged gasps, gritting my teeth as I fight hopelessly to hold it in. I have to release. It’s impossible. I can’t hold it another second. Deeply ashamed and humiliated at my inability to maintain control over my body, I feel it, slowly at first, trickling out of me. There’s no chance of stopping it now as the trickle transforms into a steady stream. It feels superb, so I let it flow unabated. A moan escapes at the sweet release. It’s almost orgasmic. My back arches as I sink into it like a filthy animal.

On my hands and knees, a demented grin spreads over my face as I watch my hot piss spill out of the base of the cage and onto the surrounding, immaculately polished wooden floor. Fuck him, this is his fault. He left me in here too long. If he wants a fucking animal, then he can have one. In a savage moment of misplaced revenge, I cock my leg, as if I were a dog, eyes closed, and drift into the pure unadulterated pleasure of releasing my bladder. The perverse joy at the thought of my piss streaming out of the cage all over his precious fucking floor, the acrid smell of it and the sound of the steady stream splashing on the wood, elicits a throaty chuckle.

My eyes snap open as a hand grabs my collar and wrenches me out of the cage. I was so lost in the moment I didn’t hear him come back in. With an ease that takes my breath away, he drags me across the floor. His powerful hands pressing on the back of my neck, he forces my face into the still growing puddle of my filth.

His tone is chilling, so measured that it leaves me without a doubt about his displeasure. He doesn’t need to yell. I can tell through his restrained self control that I’ve made a grave mistake.

“Filthy little slut. You think you can piss on my floor and not face consequences? You’re going to clean it up, every single drop.”

“This is your fault, cunt. You left me in here. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Don’t blame me for your stupid fucking mistakes, arsehole.”

I pant as I struggle desperately to keep my face out of the pool of piss. I regret the open defiance in my voice and wish I could have chosen a softer tone, but it’s just not in my nature.

“That’s 20 more.” He says in that measured voice that somehow terrifies and arouses me at the same time.

“Twenty more what, fuckhead?” I snarl. I hear the words escape, and take a delicious satisfaction in them even as I know they’re just making things worse for me.

“Strikes to your punishment. For blaming me for your own disgusting and disrespectful behaviour.” A wry smile twisting his lips. “Now with your tongue, slut, lap it up.”

A wave of horror convulses through me as I recognise exactly what he expects me to do. Realising far too late that I was already way past the point of return, “Boss, please no. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up, I will, but please, just not like that. Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s too late now, slut, to try respect and regret boy, I saw your face as you cocked your leg. You were in glee, pissing on my floor. This disgraceful rebellious streak of yours needs desperate correction. As your Master, I would not be doing my job if I didn’t correct this. It would be a deep failure and mistake on my part to allow you to continue down this destructive path. I will not allow this flaw to remain in my property, boy.”

The impact of his booted foot coming down on my cheek sends a jolt of pain through me, causing me to wince. The unmistakable scent of grass and earth fill my nostrils, contrasting with the pristine cleanliness of his work boots. He firmly pins my head, holding me down in my piss, leaving me with no way to avoid it. Looking up out of the corner of my eye, I can see the unrelenting resolve on his face.

Bending over, he looks me in the eye. “Well, what are you waiting for, slut? Get to it.”

I take a few more moments to contemplate the pure humiliating horror of what it is I’m expected to do. His boot presses more firmly on my cheek in impatience.

Slowly, I extend my tongue towards the offensive pool of piss, bracing myself for the repugnant taste. Because of slight dehydration, the ammonia smell is so strong that it sears my nostrils. The acrid taste of an entire night of concentrated piss that has been stewing in my bladder is something I am completely unprepared for, and I gag involuntarily.

“Every drop slut.”

Reluctantly, I continue to lap at my piss, my nose wrinkling as I gag against the taste.

“Good boy, keep going. That’s it, you’re being such a good boy.”

Even in my moment of absolutely degrading humiliation, hearing the praise I’d been craving since yesterday reinvigorates my deep desire to please him. I hungrily lap up as much of the acrid piss as I can, his boot releasing enough to allow me to move a little so I can get more up with each pass.

“Mmm, good boy.”

I hear a zipping sound and crane my head the best I can to look up at him. Just in time to see his cock flop out of his pants. I see the golden stream descend toward me, microseconds before it hits me in the face. His piss splashes into my eye and my eyes sting closed as I gasp. The stream enters my mouth. In stark contrast to the unpleasant taste of my urine, his has a surprisingly delicious, almost sweet taste. A moment of debased shock as I extend my tongue to catch as much of his piss as I can.

“That’s it, boy, drink your Boss’s piss like a good boy. You are mine now, boy, my property.”

As he pisses all over my face, I’m knocked into deep submissive arousal as I hear him claim me once again, drenching my hair, his golden stream trickling into my open mouth. In that moment, as I hear the pure pleasure purring through his voice and his desire to claim me fully, I can think of nothing but pleasing him, my straining cock aching to please him.

“Thank you, Boss, for your gift of piss, for correcting me. Thank you for owning me. Please forgive my disrespect Boss, allow me to serve you, please allow me to atone for my mistakes. Thank you, Boss, for caring so deeply about your slut.”

“Good boy. I’m glad to hear you finally accepting your place and giving me the proper respect that I deserve, but you’re not finished.” He softly growls and releases his boot from my face.

Eagerly, I spring to my hands and knees and lap at the piss on the floor. Knowing that he’s patiently watching over me in my moment of shame spurs me to do better for him as I eagerly work to lap up the mess I’d created. His patient presence softens the bitter taste. The smell of him on me, claiming me as I work, is incredible, and I slip back into ecstatic delirium.

After what could easily be 20 minutes, I hear him again. “Ok boy, that’s enough for now. Stand up. That’s quite a mess you made.”

I struggle to stand, having been in the cage all night. Exhausted limbs refuse to cooperate at first. My knees simply don’t want to straighten.

“Stand in the corner until you are dry.”

I hobble over to the nearest corner and stand as still as I can, somehow knowing that to falter now would bring me disgrace after having worked so hard, and I don’t want to reflect poorly on my Master after his loving and patient correction.

He leaves the room. I stand confused, unsure what to do, but he returns after a few minutes with a mop and bucket, mopping up the piss I had left behind. Now deeply ashamed at my behaviour, I step forward to offer to clean up the mess that I had made.

“I didn’t say move, boy.”

 I step back into the corner and bow my head, “I’m sorry Boss,” and this time I actually mean it, not to get what I want or to get out of this situation, but because true remorse has risen as I take in the inconvenience that I have caused him. All trace of defiance and ill will toward him has evaporated.

“So, have you made your choice, boy?”

Without hesitation, “I’ll never be a slave.” I see him stiffen. “Boss,” I quickly add and I see him ease back into his work. “Fair enough boy, so I guess…” I quickly interrupt him “but I… I don’t know.” The idea of serving him sounds so seductive, but is it really that simple? I’m so headstrong and wilful that I can’t really imagine being subservient to anyone.

“Let me stop you there, boy. I understand the conflict you’re experiencing, far better than you imagine. Boy, you aren’t the first of your type and you definitely won’t be the last. So many men travel through life knowing something is wrong. They don’t fit properly. No matter what they do, they’re never quite fulfilled. They pursue the life they’re told they’re supposed to want, only to find it doesn’t work for them. Society will have them believe that they’re supposed to be a leader, a ‘man’, but they’re not leaders and they know it, they’re adrift, and they don’t know how or where to anchor themselves. They struggle against their nature. That’s where you are at right now. You don’t know the answer and you don’t know how to find it, but you know things aren’t right. I am your answer, boy. I have found you. It’s time to rest. You can stop searching and struggling.”

I open my mouth to protest but he continues, “The truth that you’re struggling to accept is that I am now your Master. I have already claimed you as mine. You know that you deeply desire to be mine. Over the last 24 hours, I’ve shown you where you belong and what will fulfil you. You belong at the side of a Master, serving him, becoming his perfect boy and making him proud to have you. You will be a man who selflessly caters to the needs and desires of others, tirelessly fulfilling their every desire. It’s something you know that you’ve already felt. It feels right, and it’s what you need. You have already offered yourself twice now, but you’re afraid of what it means and where it leads, and you’re looking for a way out. Together, under my loving guidance, care, protection, and ownership, we can release you from your struggle.”

As I listen to him speak, the truth of what he’s saying settles deep inside me. Leading is definitely not my strong suit. I don’t even desire to lead. I truly want to surrender to him, I can feel that serving him is right, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s not that simple, and he certainly doesn’t realise the difficult monster he’s about to take ownership of, that he’s convinced that he wants for himself.

“One week. At the end of one week, if either of us decides you aren’t fit to be my boy, then we part ways. But understand, my boy, you won’t have this opportunity again. Do you agree to one week?”

I have a moment of foreboding. Conveniently, I have a week. Needing to know where I stand, I settle on testing him. “Could I leave now?”

 I see him consider that for a good few breaths, then he steps to the side. “There’s the door. You’re free to leave. Understand, boy, I want you. You’ve already decided that you will not be a slave and I respect your decision, but I still want you to be my boy. I want you to choose to be my boy, to choose to stand by my side. You’re free to leave if that’s truly what you wish. I will respect your decision with no repercussion.”

Damn it. He’s called my bluff. He senses the victory and quickly moves to fill the silence. “So you agree to be my boy, without reservation, for one week?” Before I even form a thought, the words fall from my lips. “Yes, Boss.”

“Good. Now boy, twice you’ve offered yourself and twice you’ve tried to weasel out of it. I will not accept a third violation of your vow to me. If you attempt it again, our agreement will be over and you will not enjoy the consequences of that. You are my boy, I own you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Rule one, you will always address me as Boss, or sometimes Master. You will always offer me the respect that my position as Master and owner of you deserves. If you do not do so, I will punish you in a way that I choose. Do you understand?”

His mention of punishment momentarily has me looking to the door, but then I remember the commitment I have made and sink to my knees, kneeling before him. “Yes, Boss.” 

A thrill of pleasure courses through me as I notice the flicker of surprise travel across his face when I knelt before him.

“Rule two, you will always seek my permission to piss. From this day forward, you do not take a leak without my express permission. Failure to do so will cause punishment.”

I bow my head, this time not in subservience, but to conceal the grin. “Yes Boss,” hoping he can’t hear the amusement in my voice.

“Rule three, you will always serve me with full enthusiasm and commitment. You will not bitch or moan about what I require or request from you, no matter how difficult it may seem. Failure to meet my high standards again will cause punishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Repeat them to me.”

“I will always address you as Boss or Master, Boss. When I need to piss, I will seek your permission, Boss. I will serve you with full commitment and enthusiasm and do everything I can to meet your high standards, Boss.” As I repeat his rules, I hope he catches the enthusiasm and commitment in my voice.

“Good boy, you learn quickly. Make sure you keep me happy and we may yet reform this useless, pathetic slut before me into a boy worthy of my attention.”

“Boy, your body belongs to me. It is now my body. Your cock, your pussy and your mouth’s sole purpose in life is to please me, to be pleasing to me, and to bring me pleasure. Do you understand?”

I feel my cock stir at the anticipation of serving him. “Yes Boss, I understand. This cock, mouth and pussy now belong to you. Their sole purpose is to please and pleasure you, Boss.”

“Good boy. You’re such a good boy. There will be more rules, and for the moment, you have no rights or privileges. You will need to earn them through your attentive and good behaviour. Now stand and come here. It’s time for your punishment.”

I gulp and stand. It’s going to be a long week.

Nobody knew what a filthy pervert the Congressman could be. As a good, White, all-American, Christian Conservative, most assumed he lived by old values, respectable standards and traditions expected of a greater society, which he tried his best to do, but, like this morning right before an important meeting in his D.C. office, there were times his mind would venture into some dark, perverse territory. The devil was in his dick again and that swollen, ten inch rod was screaming sin as it tortured him, bent and trapped, raging with lust in his black slacks, so obvious that there was no way he could greet his colleagues, all White, Christian Conservatives like him, without sporting a giant tent and showing what a great gift God had given him. A great gift but at a times a terrible burden.

They were going to be arriving in about ten minutes, there was even a nice selection of treats he had bought, a mix of glazed honey buns and cinnamon rolls waiting for them on his desk, and there was one gentleman in particular the Congressman wanted to please, secretly admiring this attractive colleague more than he should have, no one suspecting, as he had been good at hiding his true nature for years, that he was a severe closet case. It was this gorgeous fellow who had sparked the Congressman’s dirtiest urges, a Texan with lovely, curly blond hair, frosting naturally at the tips, big blue eyes and an almost angelic, youthful face. The Congressman himself was younger, the youngest of their group, nearing forty, short and adorable, very fit and muscular for such a little guy, muscles that showed well in his tight suits and shirts, always bulky and bulging as his cock currently was, his bright blue, kind eyes watched ever hopeful from his adorable, cute face, his dark hair starting to go salt and pepper at his temples, his smile was always sexy, sometimes naughty like his thoughts.

This Christian boy had to expel that demon from his pants, something he found himself doing often throughout his busy days, wrangling that devil after meetings, in between meetings and really anytime he wasn’t doing anything else. He had jerked and blown his sinful load in many bathrooms allover America and the World. Blown it in many cars, limos and buses, and many times in his own office like he would have to now, otherwise they’ll see his huge cock, stretching out, wanting to fuck them, well definitely one of them, wanting to blast his furious seed allover the place, wanting to jerk off right in front of them, wanting them to watch and enjoy, to even join in.

As he quickly extracted his cock, he looked to his closed office door, it wasn’t locked which only excited him and his devilish cock more, not too worried because he would be able to hear them coming down the hall. Then his eyes moved to the cross he was chosen to bear, that huge, thick and throbbing, vein riddled cock, ten inches of swelled, heated meat, now in his hand, now being pleased as he started slow in working it, needing to be quick because time was running out, but he also wanted to savor each wank, feel every squeeze and rise and fall of his fist, his pre-cum puddled at his opening, jiggling and starting to drip as more leaked out. It wet the underside of his cock as his hand continuously stroked long, almost the entire length, picking up the pace.

He could barely keep his eyes open, sitting at his desk in his dark, tightly fitted suit, his bulky biceps and pecs tensing and moving with every quick jerk, wrestling that devil cock, for the good of America, for the good of Christianity, for himself really, his head lolling back, his cute mouth parting as he breathed heavy and moaned softly, lost in his lust, that damn thing so hard and hot, so angry from being ignored earlier that morning, wanting to be sucked and to fuck, wanting to impress and wanting to blow its potent all-American Christian spunk, the best seed around, allover everything it could. He loved to eat his own spunk, having crafted a sweeter, tastier jizz by eating pineapples and other recommended things for such appealing seed.

He cried out a little jerking harder then, as fast as he could as the clock ticked, so much pre-cum leaking out that his hand was really wet, able then to stroke up to his tip and rub his palm over it which only egged his seed on, getting closer and he felt that hot liquid begin to wet his tube, that lovely build of pressure that was rising up his cock, still not releasing yet, holding on in wonderful agony, his brows bunching together as he winced his eyes, frantic to cum as he grunted, spanking that cock harder, hearing them start to descend from the end of the hall, laughing about something, getting closer, his secretly desired’s voice talking about something important as always.

“Fuck…” Escaped his lips in a breathy cry as he shook allover and his face contorted into a shameful, weak grimace of pleasure.

They were so close now but so was he and he knew they would have to stop to talk to his secretary which could take another minute or so depending if they joked around with her as usual. His load was ready for release, the Congressman then realizing that in his deviant fever he never grabbed something to blow into, his nut always great, very healthy and fierce. He quickly stood horrified that he was going to shoot allover his desk and that they would all know, but then the devilish side of him had a real dirty thought, one he had to oblige and one that sent him over the edge. They were stopping, laughing with her so there was still time.

He frantically pulled open the bakery box containing the honey buns and cinnamon rolls, all glazed, about to be all-American glazed, and aimed his cock at the baked goods as his entire being quaked into a savage orgasm. He kept himself from crying out loud, a weak groan trapped in his throat as he watched in shock as the first huge stream of cum blasted out like a hose, a long lasting stream of pure white seed, wetting and covering most of the baked goods. There were a dozen, enough for everyone, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of them as he sprayed more wad, making sure to get each and every one, this stream helped cover the rest.

The Congressman shuddered quickly into another, mind blowing, thoughtless squirt, pleasure shuddering up through his body, still able to keep from crying out as he shook, having to shut his eyes as his head briefly lifted, his face like one taking a piss that they’ve had to hold in and finally found relief, a massive spray of cum coating and then running down the sides of the desserts, pushing around all the other cum, then more quick squirts, his cum now filling up in the box, his cock always one to shoot far and cover so much, and as it throbbed hard another big stream hosed the top of everything. You couldn’t tell what was icing and what was his hot, tasty load.

As he heard them start towards his office again he set the big tip of his cock right into a cinnamon roll, biting his lip and moaning with his mouth shut, his eyes on the door, unable to focus really, as the last sprays of his seed shot directly into that treat, he convulsed and seized as his orgasm settled and then he quickly pulled back, turning some to get that huge dick back into his pants. The food was soaked and stewing in his massive load, all that White, Christian Conservative seed impregnating each treat, ready for consumption as he managed to get his dick up and sit as if the dirty little fiend hadn’t done anything wrong at all.

He was still in an orgasmic stupor, but able to smile and greet them from behind his desk as they began to enter, all these respected, powerful men, the type of man he was on the road to being one day. Their attentions went immediately to the snacks on hand, ones he of course had to offer, horrified yet excited as he watched his long time crush lift the box up, taken by surprised as all that glaze sloshed around, all that cum, looking to the Congressman with a smile.

“They really covered these this time, huh?”

“I know how much you like icing…” the Congressman replied, his fear subsiding now, replaced by satisfied perversion as he watched his secretly desired carry the box over to the couch and seats where they were all seated around a coffee table. He could hear the food slide around in his spunk, his breath growing weak as his heart rate started to speed up again. His crush sat and set the box down, the others, there were twelve in all including the Congressman, excitedly picking out what they wanted, their fingers sinking into his warm, sticky load.

“We’re gonna need a lot of napkins…” One expressed and another nodded to where some were on the table.

“These are so warm still… where did you get them?” His crushed inquired, lifting out the cum soaked cinnamon roll with the big indent in the top.

“Down the block, the usual place…” The Congressman replied watching, aroused again, that devil back somewhat as he felt his used flesh start to come to life, weaker this time but slowly getting hard again.

“They really over did the glaze…” a heavier colleague remarked, his fingers covered in cum as he started to eat a honey bun.

His crush lifted up his cinnamon roll, high enough to look under it and see the middle pushed down and large drips of cum hanging long, full of sperm unbeknownst to him and the Congressman’s cock was suddenly as hard as before. They were all so focused on the food and his personal glaze that they didn’t notice as he started to quickly rub his thumb, circularly, over his erection, just under his tip on the underside, using the fabric of his slacks and briefs to pleasure himself behind his desk, his arm barely moving, his eyes set dead on his desired who was now dipping his head to tongue up the several drips of dangling cum, working his way up to the sperm drenched treat.

He rubbed harder at himself watching as they ate the deserts and his cum, licking and sucking on their fingers and hands where it had leaked, and when his crush bit into the cinnamon roll the cum oozed up out of every ring and coated his face and even the tip of his nose. They were all expressing how much they liked the new glaze, how sweet and savory it was at the same time, his crush using his hand to clean his face so he could lick the Congressman’s cum up, they were all focused on getting as much of it as they could that no napkin had yet been used. One was even tonguing it off of his tie were some had fallen. This was too much and they were now digging their fingers into the box, scooping up that Conservative load, that Christian seed, hungry for more of his spunk.

He had to turn his desk chair to face his filing cabinet, furiously rubbing himself now but hidden as his chair was big and he even opened the cabinet as if he was looking for a file. Behind him he could still hear them slurping and sucking, discussing that heavenly glaze, a glaze he now intended to provide every time as his nasty thoughts overpowered him and he rubbed himself into a powerful climax. Again he kept from crying out, shuddering in his big chair with his heels digging into the floor, the chair only leaning back a tad as he seized and his muscles tensed everywhere, his back arching some, his face contorted open into a wide silent cry as his eyes rolled shut, his brows knitted tight as he shook allover, cum again blasting out, this time under his fast moving hand inside his underwear, still so much as he sprayed again and again.

“Here…” He heard his crush say from behind him and he couldn’t stop himself as he nutted even harder, biting his lip so not to make a sound, realizing the man he coveted was at his desk, so close now, so close as he was cumming, and the Congressman used his free hand to pull out a file, maybe the wrong one for this meeting but he had to make it look like he was normal, that he wasn’t an actual pervert as he rubbed the last of his load out. He then composed himself before turning his chair back around, noticing that his crush left him a cum covered honey bun on a small paper plate. How thoughtful.

He looked to his desired and watched as that gorgeous man laughed as the heavy one was now lifting the bakery box to pour what cum was left directly into his mouth. They were still going on about his taste so he figure he should have a try himself, pressing a finger into the very warm honey bun, feeling his sticky cum as he also felt it settle in his pants, a small lake of hot goo soaking into his skin. He then lifted it as he made eye contact with his crush, tasting the cum off his finger tip as that beautiful man smiled in return, there was something in their shared look then, something that only they would understand.

“Tastes good doesn’t it?…”

It sure did…

At precisely 2:55 in the afternoon I parked the classic 1971 red Jaguar E-Type convertible I was delivering on the turning circle in front of the house on Shawnee Drive at the end of one of the swank community finger peninsulas out into the Northeast River in the old Maryland town of North East just off the I-95 corridor down the East Coast. The house was a big, sprawling gray clapboard mansion that looked about right for someone who had bought a classic Jaguar to be delivered to him from New York with added special services.

I saw that there was a note on the front door as I approached it, saying “Come around back.”

I did that, taking a long walk around the side of the house—there was water on three sides of the lot—and I didn’t quite do a double take when I got to the back of the house where a swimming pool surrounded by terracing extended almost to the water’s edge. The instructions had been precise on the time to show up, and now I knew why.

The guy’s body wasn’t too bad. I could manage. He was probably in his late forties, a little soft and pudgy, but not too much. He was well tanned, with stark tan lines of a skimpy Speedo. His body was slightly hirsute, his hair black on his body but with some gray patches in his close-cropped head hair. He was on his knees, face down, on a lounge bed, his chest and cheek pressed in the cushion and his butt raised in the air. He was wearing a blindfold. His arms were dangling off the side of bed, his hands grasping the base of the legs at the head of lounge bed. Restraints nudged his wrists, ready for him to be secured. The balls end of a thick dildo protruded from his ass. He’d opened himself up massively.

It was quite clear what he wanted me to do with him.

A couple of cold beers, a bottle of lube, and a small stack of Trojan Magnum XL rubbers lay on a small table beside the lounge bed. There also was a wad of cash—hundred-dollar bills. I didn’t bother to count it. It looked thick enough to be what was agreed with the guy who sent me from the classic car dealer in New York. I occasionally delivered a car for him, especially when there were added services involved, which he specialized in through an Internet club. My main job was as a Chippendale-type dancer at a strip club in a Chelsea gay bathhouse. My stage name there was the Black Mamba, which reflected my performance specialty. It also declared that I proudly was a black man—a black bull, as I was called. When I was on stage all oiled up and gleaming under the lights, all eyes in the audience went to me. I wasn’t ashamed of that; I was proud of that. I kept myself in tiptop condition.

“Bind my wrists” was all he said, sensing I had arrived, before I did just that. Standing beside the lounge bed, I pulled my T-shirt off, popped the top of one of the cans of beer, and took a swig of beer. I stood there for a moment deciding how I wanted to proceed. By his stance, he was declaring how he wanted me to proceed. It was his money, so I indulged him. I unbuckled and unzipped my shorts and let them fall to my ankles. I pushed my briefs down and my half hard—which would be a full hard for most guys—popped out. I kicked the clothes aside.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, you big black brute,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. He was taking it on faith that the black muscle stud who showed up was the one in the photograph he’d been sent. For what he was paying, he was getting what was advertised.

I laughed, grasped the silicon balls of the dildo up his ass, and roughly fucked him with it as he gasped, breathed heavily, writhed, and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed himself. I took a couple of more swigs from the beer can, put it down on the table, took my cock in my free hand, and started working myself up.

“You. Now you. I’m open for it. Give it to me. What I saw in the photo . . .”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“It said eleven thick inches.”

“Yes.”

He moaned. “Do it. Give it to me.”

I pulled the dildo out of him. I recognized it. A thirteen-and-a-half long, over-five-inch-thick Mr. Hankey Ogre XXL. His hole was gaping and oozing lube. He indeed was ready for it.

He heard me snapping the Trojan on and moaned, “Yes, fuck me, big boy. Give me that black stud cock.”

He cried out an “Oh, shit! Oh, Fuck!” and writhed under me as I straddled his hips, grasping them with my hands to hold him steady, mounted and penetrated, and began the dance of the doggy fuck. My black mamba must have been value added over the Ogre dildo, as he writhed and sobbed and mouthed off the pain-pleasure of the servicing.

Afterward, after I’d untied him at his direction, I stood over him—again at his direction—and I finished my beer and he drank the other one while, blindfold gone and sitting up on the lounge bed, legs bent and spread, he felt me up with his free hand, running it all over my torso and spending extra time stroking and hefty my balls.

“They’re jet black. Darker than the rest of you.”

“Yes. I came that way.”

“And eleven inches hard.”

“A bit more.”

“Wow. And you’re a Chippendale dancer. You sure have the body for it.”

“We go a bit beyond the Chippendale style where I work.”

“You strip all the way down?”

“Yes.”

“You fuck guys on stage?”

“Yes.” This wasn’t just banter. He was using the images he got from this to work himself up again for another fuck. It was having that effect on me as well.

“Guys from the audience?”

“When they pay for it—if they have good enough bodies to entertain the other patrons.”

“Wow.” I’d filled out again under his stroking and he leaned forward, took me as best he could in his mouth, and gave me a blow job, taking me to and beyond ejaculation, which he took in the face. Afterward he cleaned off his face, and fiddled with the wad of cash on the table.

“The Jag you bought is out front,” I said. This was a point at which this transaction could be done. But it wasn’t. He reached down into a bag by the lounge bed and came up with another wad of cash. He fanned out five hundreds.

“If you can stay around for a little while, you could have a swim. I’d feed you supper and drive you to your motel. Where are you staying?”

“The Motel 6 on Route 40.” He didn’t offer to let me stay here in his big house. He probably thought he couldn’t afford an all-nighter—or survive it. It was probably right on both counts. But then, maybe he thought a black guy would rob him.

I had no desire to spend the night in his house or on top of him, though. I needed to be at the Motel 6 the next morning. A guy was driving up from Richmond to deliver a classic 1956 Thunderbird to New York and was giving me a ride home, picking me up at the motel in the morning. I reached over and fingered the smaller wad of cash next to the bigger one. “You want me to fuck you again before fixing me this dinner and driving me to the motel?”

“Yes,” he said. “But first I’d like to watch you move. Walk around the pool, pose and flex for me. Swim some laps.”

When I came out of the pool, dripping wet, I had my black mamba in hand and was stroking myself hard again. I strutted to the lounge bed, where he was still sitting on his butt, legs spread and bent, feet flat on the cushion, stroking himself under a bit of a paunch with one hand pulling on his meat and swigging a third beer he’d pulled out of a small cooler with the other.

“The Black Mamba. Eleven inches,” he murmured.

“Yes,” I said, straddling his thighs, stroking my cock, and brushing it against his cheeks, teasing him, as his mouth tried to capture it. I slapped it against his cheeks a couple of times before I let his lips latch onto it. I let him slide his lips down the side, and then I grabbed his head, pulled his face roughly into my groin, and made him deep throat me. He gagged and thrashed about but then settled down as he was able to open to it.

I pulled out when I sensed his total surrender. “You want it hard this time, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You do it. You slide the rubber on.” He picked up a Trojan XL packet, slit it open, and smoothed the disk onto my cock.

I surprised him by slapping him across the face, both across one side and then the other. He yelped and his head snapped back onto the lounge bed. He grunted and whimpered, giving me a look of panicked mixed with lust as I put his ankles on my shoulders, mounted and thrust inside him, held his head to the lounge bed with a grip on his throat, and fucked him hard and deep and long.

“Yes, yes, YES! Fucking A own me! Shit you’re huge! Oh, F-U-C-K!” he cried out as I pounded him.

The little white whimpering fucker was totally mine.

* * * *

When he drove me out to Route 40 and the Motel 6, I asked him, “Is there a gym around here I can tone up at—that would be user friendly for me?”

“For a transient, or a black guy, or gay friendly?”

“Yes to all of the above,” I said.

“That would be Jimmy’s Gym. We’ll pass it on the way to the motel. You can walk there from the motel.”

When I got out of the Jag at the motel and had hauled my duffel bag out of the back, I said, “This is a real sweet ride. It drives like a dream.”

“It better for what I paid for it. But you mean me, of course, don’t you? You mean I was a sweet ride.” His expression was one of teasing amusement.

“You pay well. And I was able to get it up for you.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you? Still can’t believe I took eleven inches.”

“That dildo you play with is over thirteen.”

“Yes, but nothing like the real thing. Was I good enough that I can come in and get a freebee?”

“Let’s not push it,” I said, turned, and walked to the office without looking back.

“I do like playing hard to get,” he said to my back.

* * * *

They were soldiers from the nearby Aberdeen Proving Grounds and they fancied themselves as ardent gym rats by being regulars at Jimmy’s Gym in the town of North East, where the three of them typically took the gym to closing on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They were all in pretty good shape and they shared an interest beyond the bodybuilding. They liked to share guys and, unusually enough, all three of them were submissives. They did each other pretty far down the performance road, but they liked to have a meaty top to share, and word was out how a guy could get three lays from some pretty fit guys in their late twenties just by taking Jimmy’s Gym to closing on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I was about as meaty a top as any of them was going to get—I was muscled up more than those three and I had more swinging between my legs than they’d gotten from anyone else. I also was in North East on a Thursday evening, stuck in a Motel 6 room, waiting for a ride the next afternoon, and missing my gym time. I was told the Jimmy’s Gym was gay friendly. I wasn’t told that it was gay predatory, but I didn’t really care that that’s what I found there.

They were Pat, Steed, and Carl and were much the same of the dirty blond, squared-out soldier, slightly hirsute, not-too-bad-looking, chip-on-the-shoulders type who, because they loved their muscles, could be found in the basic gyms at 10:00 pm at night.

Jimmy’s Gym closed at 11:00. I got there at 9:30. By 10:15 the place was beginning to empty out, although Pat, Steed, and Carl were still there, talking with and spotting each other. The three of them were seriously working out and with seriously well-worked bodies. But each of them had taken time to chat with me in the “You’re new here, aren’t you?” and “Where are you from and where are you going?” mode. Carl, the more outgoing of the three, had managed to move on to admiring my build, saying there weren’t too many black guys coming to the gym, but I was a definite improvement on the décor here. He was quick to make clear that being black at this gym was OK—more than OK. Each of them had come over to spot me and each of them, while doing so, had managed to touch me, first tentatively, and when I didn’t react badly to that, more intimately. Pat had audibly gasped when his touch was on my crotch and he got the hint of what I was packing. He immediately went off to consult with the other two, and it looked like Steed, who had appeared to be starting to wrap up for the evening, decided to stay.

“You say you’re just passing through for the night,” Carl said to me at one point.

“Yes,” I said. “Staying at the Motel 6 over on 40,” I said. I hadn’t said anything about just passing through. Did these guys know I’d be coming to this gym? I didn’t know how they’d know that.

“Traveling alone?” Carl asked.

“Yeah. Somebody’s picking me up tomorrow to get me to New York.”

“New York?” Steed asked, coming up to us. I knew both he and Pat had been keyed into what Carl and I were saying to each other. “What do you do in New York?” he asked.

I had no reason to hide it. These guys obviously were coming on to me. Maybe I’d be doing one or more of them in the motel room that night. That would be fine with me. I liked a sub with a great body. None of these guys was muscle bound but they all had developed what they had really well. “I deliver classic cars up and down the East Coast. And I also dance in a male review—something like the Chippendales, but raunchier—in New York,” I said.

That set all three of them twittering.

“I knew it must be something to show off that great body of yours,” Carl said. “I guess you know we like the looks of you—all three of us do.”

“Yeah, I got that idea.”

He reached out and touched one of my nipples and I didn’t shirk away. I let my eyes trail down to his basket. He was hard and he knew I could tell he was hard.

Although they looked manly, the tell-tell signs were there that they were submissives, especially in the way they twittered with each other and gave me longing looks.

“You know they have a sauna here that’s great for soothing the muscles out after a good workout,” Carl said to me as the three of them were closing up on the floor and heading for the showers. I got the message.

“See you there then,” I said, and Carl gave me a grin.

They were still in the communal shower when I got there, naked and walking proud. All three of them were half hard at least and pulled away from each other as I entered the shower. The eyes of all three of them went to me and they gasped almost in unison in seeing me swinging eleven thick inches. All three of them were fit and well-proportioned, but I was a black god swinging eleven inches and we all knew it. I looked from one to the other. Which one would I be taking back to the Motel 6 and destroying? They all seemed so alike. Would all three let me do them? Yes, probably, from the way they were eating me up with their eyes.

They left the shower together. “The sauna is just over there,” Carl said as they left.

When I entered the sauna, the three of them were spaced out, Carl sitting on the second tier, near a corner, Pat and Steed sitting on the side opposite this, where they’d get a good view of the corner of the room. I noticed that the heat wasn’t up to sauna temperatures. The unit had already been turned off and the room was cooling down. This wasn’t a time for sweating in the Jimmy’s Gym sauna. It was time for other action.

With just a towel knotted around my waist, I entered the sauna and climbed up to sitting near the corner of the third tier. Carl was sitting just below me and to my left on the second tier of the side wall. We all knew what we were there for. There was no need to be coy or to spin the time out. I spread my legs under the towel, letting my eleven-incher and hefty balls hang down to where all three could see them. Again, I heard the gasp across the room of appreciation.

Carl put his right hand on my left calf and I left it there. No time to be coy. His left hand went there too and slowly glided up to my crotch. I felt a bit of pressure on the meat of my left calf and, in response, I raised it and hooked the leg on his right shoulder. He laced my balls in the fingers of his left hand and, encasing the root of my engorging cock with his hand, started a slow stroke.

“So nice. Huge. So black. A thick black snake,” Carl murmured.

“Thus my stage name,” I said. “The Black Mamba.” He gave a little laugh, leaned over, and took my shaft in his mouth.

Pat and Steed, watching us, had moved together and were kissing and stroking each other’s cocks.

The sauna door opened. I gave a little jerk but the other three didn’t react. It was as if they knew someone else would enter and that it wouldn’t disrupt anything. I instantly understood, as Ted Sinclair, the Mr. Jaguar of earlier that day, entered, naked, and perched on the second tier of benches opposite where Carl was giving me head and watched both Carl and me and Pat and Steed having sex. He grasped his cock, stroked, and shared the sex with us. Of course, that’s how Carl and friends knew I was traveling alone. Mr. Jaguar had told me about the gym and then told his friends I might be there, that I was hung, and that I was horny.

After a few moments, Pat and Steed came off their bench and moved over to Carl and me. Carl pulled away, and Pat was crouched between my spread thighs and taking my erection in his throat. Steed was sitting beside me on the third tier, moving his hands over my black body, licking and nipping at my nipples while Pat took over the blow job from Carl.

I unknotted my towel and brushed it away. I leaned over and grasped Pat’s narrow hips in my hands and pulled him up into my lap, facing me, and, to the sound of his heavy panting and groaning, put him on my cock. He swooned backward, his torso streaming down the tiers of the benches, his hands grasping the front edge of the lower bench, while I pulled him on and off my cock to an ejaculation.

I looked across the sauna to see that Ted Sinclair’s legs were raised and spread and Carl was kneeling between them. Sinclair’s fists were gripping Carl’s shoulders. His fingers were spreading and digging in to the same rhythm with which Carl’s buttocks were moving forward and back. Sinclair was receiving his “spotters” reward for having guided me to Jimmy’s Gym and into the hands of the Aberdeen Proving Ground soldiers.

With a cry and an ejaculation, Pat fell away from me, to be replaced by Steed, sitting on my cock, facing away, his torso streaming down the tiers of benches, his hands grasping the edge of the bottom bench, and his feet pressed into the cedar wall behind us, using the balls of his feet for leverage on fucking himself on my eleven inches.

* * * *

When they offered to give me a lift back to the Motel 6, it occurred to me that I’d had a piece of two of them but not Carl, who had been the most forward of the trio. Had I read him wrong as a submissive, I wondered. He was at least a flip-flopper because he fucked Ted Sinclair, Mr. Jaguar, in the sauna. I thought I must be slipping because I’d read all three of the Aberdeen Proving Ground soldiers as bottoms.

But they weren’t finished with me. I had no sense of direction, so when we took off in the Camaro coupe, really cramped for the four big bruisers and with me wedged into the back, I didn’t notice that they were driving in the opposite direction of where my motel was. Even when I realized we were, I said nothing, because there was no way I could do anything about getting out of the car at that point.

They drove me to a riverside park that was deserted at that time of night. Carl noted then that he hadn’t gotten his piece of me, and so I wasn’t surprised when they told me to strip and go down on my back with my head between the roots of a big tree and work my eleven incher up while they watched. When I was stiff as a board, they surprised me by grabbing my hands and pulling my arms around the base of the tree and restraining my wrists so that I couldn’t move from there.

When I was immobilized, a naked Carl straddled my hips, facing me, lowered himself on my shaft, leaned back and grasped my knees with his hands, and fucked himself on me. Pat and Steed stood by and watched.

Then they left me there, bound and naked, and drove off. I was trying to figure out how to get my wrists free and then what the hell I was going to do at night, not knowing where I was and being starkers. I didn’t have to wonder about that for very long. I saw the headlights of a car approaching me across the grass of the park and a 1971 red E-type Jaguar convertible rolled up beside me. There couldn’t be too many of these in this hick river town, I figured, so I wasn’t surprised when Ted Sinclair got out of the car and walked over and looked down at me.

“You look like you got yourself in a mess,” he said.

“A mess I think you had something to do with creating,” I said.

“I didn’t know they’d bring you here and leave you like this,” he said.

“At the moment that isn’t too comforting. You aren’t my favorite person right this moment.”

“You might want to rethink that,” he said. “I followed them, didn’t I, and I’m here now.”

“That’s fine and dandy if you get me released and get me back to the Motel 6—and maybe find me something to wear so I don’t scare the fine ladies of this little burg.”

“I have clothes back at the house I could lend you. The house is right over there. We can almost see it from here, but I think we have a little negotiation to do before that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when I asked if I’d been a good enough lay to get a freebee? And you told me not to push it?”

“Yeah, I sort of remember that.”

“Well, would it be pushing it to get that free lay if I free your wrists and take you home for a change of clothes? I surely would like to have another encounter with that black mamba of yours.”

I certainly was in no position to haggle about that.

I’ve been anonymously cruising Sniffies for a couple of years looking for a friend with benefits.  Being married and unable to host, I haven’t had much luck. My wife is always with me so it’s no wonder, but last fall I did chat with one guy willing to put in the effort to make it happen.

He lived about 30 miles away but we arranged to meet at a nearby restaurant and he started a conversation with my wife and I. It worked and I invited him over to the house. 

I gave him the tour of the house as the wife watched tv.  When we got downstairs our pants came down and we gave each other head.  It was the first cock I sucked since my twenties, and damn did I miss it.  Subsequent visits failed to pan out, then the bad weather and snow set in and that was the end of it sadly.

I kept going back on Sniffies hoping to find another willing soul to feed my cock hunger.  What’s the use I thought to myself, everyone on there wants it right now, not some complicated thing. That apparently was setting my expectations too high for 99.9%.  But what if that .1% guy is out there?

Not being a quitter I chatted with many, but I always dreaded bringing up my situation which usually ended in the conversation being deleted mid chat or never chatting again Damn, maybe I should give up and just keep jerking off fantasizing about guys.

Then one day the stars aligned or something.  Someone was still interested after my long winded explanation and agreed to meet us.  We all hit it off and I invited him over.   After chatting for awhile my wife fell asleep in the recliner. You want to go in the bedroom he whispered?  Yeah, lets go I answered.  Our clothes came off and our cocks sprung to life.  My eyes were glued to his incredible cock as he laid on my bed.

The head of his cock, swollen and oozing pre-cum.  His shaft, throbbing with each heart beat, glistening in the light as he spread his legs, an invitation for me to get him off.

The musk of his cock filled my nostrils, as I eagerly leaned down to take him into my salvating mouth.  God I wanted this!  To slowly please him until I taste the hot flood of his cum filling my mouth.  He began to moan softly, as he caressed my cheeks with his hands.  I’m gonna cum he announced.  I began going down on him faster and deeper, pressing my face into his pubic hair.

He grabbed the back of my head with both hands and pushed my head down on him as he arched his back while groaning, here it cums baby, OH God, Fuck Yeah he whispered as I felt his cock begin to twitch and spray hot salty cum against the back of my throat!

I swallowed eagerly as he continued to squirt nearly a dozen times. OH Damn, you’re a great cock sucker he exclaimed as I continued sucking at a slower pace, not ready to take my mouth off his gorgeous cock.  He tasted so good, I’ve really missed giving head.

I sat up between his legs and smiled.  My own cock hard as a rock, dripping a rope of pre-cum.  He sat up and propped his head against the headboard and said; your turn baby.  I moved up and straddled him, placing my cock in front of his lips.

He reached around and grabbed my ass cheeks and drew me into his mouth.  Watching him suck my cock as he squeezed my ass was such a turn on.  I knew I wasn’t going to last long.

Oh Yeah, suck that cock I murmured.  I felt my balls tightening and drawing up, moments away from blowing my load. Just then I felt him shove a finger up my ass!  Oh Fuck, I exclaimed as I started to explode into his face.  I fucked his mouth like a rabbit, ramming it deep as I emptied my balls.  God it felt so good!

I pulled my cock from his mouth and began rubbing the head, gently tracing his lips leaving behind residual cum.  Do you want be my steady fuck buddy? I asked him.  Hell  yes, he answered as he skooted down, laying his head on the pillow.

Good I said as I lay on top of him and kissed his lips over and over.  He stuck out his tounge and I twirled mine around his, then we deeply kissed.  My heart was still pounding in my chest from the ecstasy we just gave each other.

We got dressed and went back out into the living room. She was still asleep.  When can we do this again he asked quietly.  Text me and we’ll make arrangements I answered.  He left and I woke up my wife.

Will he come back again I wondered?  I sure hope so.  Sex with a man is what I needed and yearn for and now that I’ve had another taste I don’t want it to end.

Charlie loved two interconnected things:  his job and cock.

He had relocated to San Francisco, determined to break into the porn business.  While studios acknowledged his oral and anal talents, he did not have the right “look.”  His face was slightly angular, with his nose slightly upturned, and his body was pale and thin but not muscled.  While he auditioned for directors and producers several times (generally by sucking them off or getting fucked), he did not photograph particularly well.

His dreams were not entirely crushed, though.  One of the studios offered him the chance to be a fluffer – someone who makes sure that the models in the shoot were hard and ready to fuck when the cameras were ready to record.

“Yeah, some guys rely on Viagra or injecting their dicks with Trimix to get and stay hard,” the producer explained, “but we don’t like that here.  I’ve had to cancel shoots and call an ambulance because some guys tried to mix Viagra and poppers.  And who wants to see a close-up of a cock with needle marks on it?  We can’t control what guys do elsewhere, but we keep our sets drug-free – including prescriptions.”

“Why don’t they just make out together or jack each other off or something?”

“Sometimes they do, but remember that these guys have to be able to start and stop whenever the director is ready for them.  Shoots can last all day long or even go multiple days, and the talent sometimes needs to take a break.  You’re there to support them, in a way, just off-camera.”

Charlie jumped at the opportunity.  It was a foot in the door of the porn industry.  This wasn’t the way he wanted to get started, but it would do for now.  He could always work out to improve his physique.  If directors didn’t like the way his face looked, he’d be earning money that he could put towards plastic surgery.  In the meanwhile, he’d be keeping his name and skills in the back of their minds.  Once he looked better, maybe he’d get on a call list to make some videos, too.

Thereafter, he would get a call every so often telling him about an upcoming video shoot.  He’d be given the details of where to go and what was expected of him.  He would show up at the appropriate time, use his mouth, hand, and ass to get – and keep – a few guys erect, and then he would stand out of the way while he watched them fuck each other.  Then he would collect his money and wait for the next phone call.

One August morning, his cell phone rang.  Charlie recognized the number as being from the studio that hired him, so he answered it immediately.  “Yo,” he said.

“Four tops, one bottom, and it shoots one week from today.  Interested?”

“You better fucking believe it!”

“Good.  I’ll text you the address and when to be there.”

Charlie went through his normal routine and showed up to the house being used as the set. He saw a few faces he knew among the cast and crew and a few that he didn’t.  He didn’t know if this belonged to someone associated with the production, was being rented, or what, but he also didn’t think it was any of his business.  He approached the director to find out the details of what was expected of him.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” the director said.  “Daniel over there is going to get fucked and seeded by four guys.”  He gestured to men relaxing around a green sectional couch. 

The four tops were already stripped to their underwear, and Daniel was sitting on the arm of a green sectional couch with his shirt off.  Charlie recognized him, a buff but short Latino with a shaved chest, and raised a hand in greeting.  Daniel closed his eyes and gave a brief nod in return.  Sometimes the guys working in front of the camera didn’t want to deal much with the guys behind the scenes.

Charlie then eyed the four tops appraisingly.  Three were sitting on the couch, and the fourth was standing.  The first had splayed himself out on the couch.  He was tall and heavily tattooed, with a short goatee and shaved head and torso.  The guy next to him was shorter, with a hairy chest, mustache, and slightly protruding ears.  Turning the corner on the sectional, the third had tattoos on both shoulders, a flat-top haircut, and a soul patch beneath his lower lip.  Brightly visible tan lines protruded over the waistband of his low-cut briefs.  The last was standing and had a tattoo on his left shoulder, a lightly hairy chest, and his black hair cut very short. 

“From left to right, that’s Luis, Miguel, Jack, and Austin,” the director identified, pointing to each in turn. 

“Yummy,” Charlie commented to himself.  Turning to the director, he asked, “When do you want to get started?”

“We’re almost ready,” the director commented.  He turned his head and looked questioningly at various members of the crew, most of whom nodded in return.  He then walked over to Daniel and muttered a few words in a low voice.

Daniel gave a brief shrug of his shoulders.  Addressing the others on the couch, he said in a bored voice, “All right.  So we’re going to have Charlie come in here and, uh, get you guys hard while I take a quick break for a final cleaning out, and I’ll be back in a bit.” 

The director pointed at Charlie.  Immediately ready, Charlie removed his shirt, kicked his shoes into a corner, and slid out of his jeans, leaving only a black jockstrap.  He walked over to the couch.  “Hi, guys,” he said, reaching out to briefly feel the soft lump in the front of the standing model’s underwear.

Jack slid his hands beneath the waistband and slid them down.  Charlie sank to his knees, wrapped one hand firmly beneath the base of the performer’s balls, and opened his mouth.  He felt a hand on the back of his head as he took the semi-soft member onto his face.  Pushing his face all the way down to Jack’s hips, Charlie wrapped his lips firmly around the shaft, sucked hard, and pulled his head back.  He could feel the dick beginning to swell against his tongue and stretch against his lips.  He continued to glide back and forth across the cock while Jack released Charlie’s head and reached down to pinch his right nipple lightly.

Charlie heard the other three men moving, shifting their positions as they watched.  He released Jack’s still stiffening cock from his mouth with one last audible slurp and turned to look at the others.  They had all pulled their underwear down and were slowly stoking their cocks, enjoying the spectacle.  Knowing his job was to take care of all four performers, Charlie turned from Jack and shuffled on his knees over to Austin.

Austin was already fairly hard, but Charlie still wanted a taste of his cock.  As he bent down, Austin pointed himself towards Charlie’s face, pulling his underwear farther down to free his balls as well. Charlie looked at the distinct tan line above Austin’s pubes as he thankfully received the meat into his mouth.  “Mmmmmmmmmmm.”  Charlie moaned as he savored the meat stick as a delicacy.

Miguel was sitting next to Austin, and Charlie reached out to grasp the next dick as he slid his lips back on Austin.  When he looked as he was guiding his hand, though, the cock slipped from his mouth and smacked sharply back against Austin’s tan line.  Obligingly, Austin slipped his thumb underneath his member and guided it back to Charlie’s waiting mouth.

Charlie decided to focus on only one man at a time for now.  Austin was stiff, but not as hard as possible.  Releasing Miguel’s dick, he placed his hands on either side of Austin’s hips on the couch and focused on the task at hand.  He skillfully bobbed up and down, taking the entire shaft into his mouth and throat.  Soon, his dick was fully erect and polished with Charlie’s saliva.

Charlie turned his attention to Miguel as Jack sat next to Austin on the couch.  Miguel looked fairly hard, but it was Charlie’s job to make sure.  Slurping, Charlie slobbered on Miguel’s dick.  Using both hands, Miguel pushed Charlie’s face down to guide him into deepthroating his dick.  Miguel stared at Charlie’s head on his crotch, and spit leaked from the corners of Charlie’s mouth, wetting his chin.

Charlie heard a rustle as Austin stood.  Charlie opened his eyes and saw Austin slide his underwear to the floor.  Austin then stepped over him, and Charlie heard more movement behind him.  There was a double snap of something opening and closing, and then there was a wet insistence at his asshole.  Charlie could feel his hole being lubricated as Austin slipped one of his slick fingers inside.

Charlie released Miguel’s dick from his mouth and raised his body up, repositioning to accommodate the new pressure.  Miguel took the opportunity to raise his hips off of the couch and remove his underwear.  Glancing around, Charlie saw that Luis still sat at the far end of the couch, stroking leisurely at his monster dong.  Turning his head, he saw Jack sitting on the other end of the sectional, squirting some lube into his hand before sliding it over his member.

Contrary to popular belief, being a fluffer didn’t necessarily mean just sucking a guy until he was hard.  A fluffer’s job was to get men hard – and keep them that way – by any means necessary.  Sometimes they wanted to fuck you a bit while they waited on the bottom to finish his preparations.  Sometimes they would just lay back while you licked at their balls or stroked them gently.  Different porn stars had different ways they preferred to achieve their full erection and stay hard.  A fluffer had to be prepared to accommodate them all in one way or another.

With Miguel now completely naked, Charlie bent back over and attacked the cock with his mouth.  At his second stroke down the Latino’s meat, he could feel Austin pressing against his sphincter.  There was a short struggle as Austin found the right angle of attack, and then Charlie’s hole was stretched around Austin’s tool.  With his head still bobbing on Miguel, Charlie gave a short grunt as the initial insertion was achieved.

Charlie worked both his head and his hips, taking both cocks at once.  Austin’s hands clamped onto Charlie’s waist to hold him still while Miguel’s left hand found Charlie’s head at the same time.  Miguel held him down, shoving the thick, meaty shaft far enough down his throat that Charlie could not breathe.  Charlie allowed this for as long as he could.  Then forced his head up after a moment, releasing Miguel’s dick briefly as he caught a quick breath. 

Meanwhile, Austin still held Charlie’s hips still as he slowly worked his way back and forth, in and out.  He found a rhythm and began to fuck Charlie steadily.  With each stroke, he pulled out slowly until only the head was enveloped by Charlie’s ass, and then pushed forward faster.  Charlie began to vocalize his approval as he continued to slide his mouth over Miguel’s dick.  The slurping sounds Charlie made around Miguel’s completely rigid dick became louder as Austin’s thrusts cause his mouth to break their seal on Miguel.  Austin put one hand on Charlie’s shoulder to pull him back as Austin pushed forward, strengthening each thrust.

Satisfied that Austin and Miguel were both rock hard and ready to fuck Daniel, Charlie raised up to stand on his knees.  Simultaneously, his mouth released Miguel and his ass freed Austin, and there were two noticeable smacking sounds as their dicks slapped against their respective stomachs.  Charlie opened his eyes, looking to his left, where Luis was still in his underwear and had not yet received any attention.

Shifting over to Luis and his massively thick dong, Charlie bent over and took the head into his mouth.  He took Luis halfway down the shaft on his first attempt, and Miguel and Austin shifted over to sit in the corner of the sectional couch.  As Charlie drew his head back and slid back down, he could hear Jack sliding off the end of the couch and taking position behind him.  With his hand wrapped around the thick dick in front of him, Charlie felt Jack pushing inside him from behind to take the place Austin had just been.

After a couple of initial thrusts, Jack’s cock began sliding in and out, with his balls slapping against Charlie with each push.   Charlie’s ass stretched uncomfortably as he tried to wriggle into a better position.  Jack put his hands palms down firmly on the small of Charlie’s back and continued plowing.

While Austin’s cock was by no means small, Jack had a bit more girth, and Charlie hadn’t been given enough time to adjust to it.  It was a little too much to take at the moment, and Charlie reached back with his hand to push at Jack’s stomach.  Charlie exhaled briefly as Jack slid all the way out, and he used the opportunity to lift himself into a sitting position and take a couple of deep breaths. 

Breathless and in mild pain, Charlie raised a hand, calling things to a temporary halt.  “I don’t know how Daniel does all these guys,” he commented to the room at large.  While the models were professional enough to remain silent, a few knowing chuckles arose from the crew.  Many of them had wondered the same thing.  Charlie would, of course, have been happy to be fucked by all of these guys – including the gigantically hung Luis – but his asshole wasn’t so loose or elastic that it could take anything from any angle at a moment’s notice.

“Come on, guys,” said the director, “he’s not a fuck puppet.  You know what he’s there for.  He’s not a professional power bottom.  Let him do his job so that you can do yours.”

Chastened, the tops stood, and all remaining clothing was removed and tossed into a corner.  They crowded into a semi-circle in front of Charlie, who sat on his knees.  All four were completely turgid at this point, but Daniel had not yet returned (presumably from douching to clean out his ass).  These men needed to be ready to go whenever Daniel returned, so Charlie’s job was to keep giving these slices of man meat his attention.

Turning to his left, Charlie opened his mouth and swallowed Miguel’s dick.  It glided easily into his throat at this angle.  Miguel’s hips began to flex as he put his hands on Charlie’s head, starting to fuck Charlie’s face.  After about ten thrusts, Charlie pulled away, leaving a streamer of spit stretched between his lower lips and the head of Miguel’s uncut cock.

Turning to his right, Charlie attacked Jack.  After a few strokes, Jack pulled back and put his hand on the side of Charlie’s head pushing him back to Miguel.  Miguel immobilized Charlie’s head and slid in and out of his face five times before returning the favor and redirecting him back to Jack’s dick.  Charlie was being passed back and forth between these two men while Luis and Austin waited for their turn.

Jack grabbed a fistful of Charlie’s hair and began to fuck his face in earnest.  Charlie made slurping and gurgling noises as a stream of saliva overflowed his mouth and began to drip down his chin.  A corresponding slickness was soon going down the front of Jack’s ballsack as Jack’s hips slapped against Charlie’s face repeatedly.

After a few minutes, Charlie felt a painful tug as Jack pulled him forcefully away and pointed him at Austin, who was standing next to him.  Charlie barely had time to inhale before Austin’s tan lines were looming in his vision and his cockhead was in the back of Charlie’s throat.  Austin stood still while Charlie sucked and slurped noisily.  Just as Charlie was getting ready to go all the way down, Austin pulled his cock back and out of reach.  Putting his hands on Charlie’s head, he turned the sucker to face Luis.

Charlie braced himself mentally as Luis wrapped both hands around the back of Charlie’s head and used his face for five thrusts.  Then he was pulled back and pushed back to Miguel.  His head was being passed around like a cheap bottle of liquor at a fraternity party, and Charlie was in heaven.

Both of Miguel’s hands wrapped around the sides of Charlie’s head, and his face was fucked in earnest.  Either Miguel really liked blowjobs, or there was something about Charlie’s mouth that suited him well.  Charlie sucked, making wet noises, trying to bear in mind that his job was not to suck the cum out of these men no matter how much he wanted to taste their nuts.  Right now, he had to keep these guys ready for Daniel. 

So far, none of these men had said a single word to Charlie, and they hadn’t made much noise, either.  Charlie, on the other hand, shamelessly made up the difference with wet slurping sounds, gagging, and gasping.  Camera and sound men were quiet in the background as they took measurements and made adjustments to their equipment based on the action taking place in front of them.

Breaking the semi-circle, Austin stepped forward to the couch and tossed a throw pillow into the corner of the sectional.  Hooking a hand under Charlie’s armpit, he lifted Charlie into a standing position and pushed him down.  Charlie fell into a sitting position on the couch cushions, wondering what was coming next.

Austin spoke for the first time.  “No, no, no, no.  Flip over, flip over.”  He caught Charlie’s right arm and pulled it across his body, twisting Charlie so that he was on his knees and his stomach was against the back cushions.  “All right, all right,” he said thoughtfully. 

Charlie arched his back and lowered his ass down, assuming a passive position in preparation for a thorough fucking, but this was not what Austin wanted.  “No, no.  Up on the couch.”  He put his hands on Charlie’s shoulder blades and maneuvered him upwards.  In short order, Charlie’s arms were hanging down over the back of the couch, and his ass was high and available. 

Luis sat down in the corner of the sectional, watching as Austin delicately put just the head of his cock barely inside Charlie’s hole.  Raising his legs one at a time, Austin climbed so that his knees were on the couch, straddling Charlie.  Austin then fell forward with all of his weight, entering Charlie to the root of his cock.

“Gah!” Charlie exclaimed as Austin began to dig deeply with every thrust.  His hips smacked against Charlie’s cheeks over and over.  Austin began to grunt and sigh before pulling out completely.  Putting his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, Austin pulled him up and twisted his body around.

Charlie expected to be kissed or have his mouth guided back to Austin’s cock again, but Austin had other plans.  Standing Charlie up, he pushed the fluffer down onto the couch.  Reaching down, he grabbed Charlie’s ankles and lifted them up, bending Charlie over double until his heels were over his head.  Now knowing what was coming, Charlie reached his arms around and locked them behind his knees, holding his legs up and out of Austin’s way.

“That’s good,” Austin whispered, before reaching down with his hand and pointing his cock downward again.  Bending his knees slightly to get to the proper height, he slowly pushed in again.  He then decided that this was not quite what he wanted, so he reached under Charlie to shift him down so that his ass was hanging off the couch. 

As they were maneuvering, Austin’s completely rigid cock slipped out of Charlie’s hole with a squelching sound.  A second later, Austin’s hand pointed his dick back down to the entrance, and he was again balls-deep in Charlie’s appreciative canal.  Austin began to fuck with purpose.  Charlie wondered briefly if he had forgotten in whom he was supposed to cum, but Charlie was having too much of a good time to ask or object.

Austin drove forward again and again, his hips making wet slapping noises as they contacted Charlie’s ass..  Austin gave one long slow push in and held it, and Charlie gave a quick exhale before smiling broadly as pleasure spread through his insides. 

“Hmm?” Austin questioned, seeing Charlie beaming up at him.  He pulled out completely and looked down into Charlie’s face.

“Damn,” Charlie replied.  “Holy shit.”  He might not be a porn star himself, but he was getting railed by one while three others watched.

Austin once again positioned his cock and dove in, chuckling a little as if he were toying with Charlie, and Charlie didn’t mind at all.  The others were sitting around them on the sectional watching them and stroking their own dicks, but Charlie was content as he could be.  Austin gave a few more long, deep thrusts before he pulled back again and went to sit and catch his breath.

Luis stood up immediately and moved in to take a turn.  He took the same position Austin had been in and pushed his monstrous dong against Charlie’s hole.  Now that he had been stretched out and well-lubed, Charlie was confident he could take it. 

Luis pushed inside of him, inch by inch.  Luis clearly understood he had a big dick and that it took a bit of time for almost every bottom to get used to it.  Charlie inhaled deeply as Luis filled him up, letting it out slowly once he could feel Luis’s thighs resting firmly against his ass cheeks.  There was no doubt that his insides were full with cock, but there was no discomfort.

Noticing that Charlie wasn’t showing any pain, Luis pulled back and began to fuck him without hesitation.  He was not gentle, but he was also not intentionally rough.  Just as Charlie was beginning to grunt in pleasure with each push in, Luis’s cock slipped out of his hole.  Without using his hands, Luis repositioned and dove inside again.

“That’s fantastic,” Charlie pronounced appreciatively.  “Fuck, yeah.”

Luis picked up his pace slightly, driving in to hit bottom with every thrust.  He pushed in deep and held it momentarily, releasing a sigh of contentment before pulling back and continuing.  “You OK?” he asked Charlie.

“Yes,” Charlie breathed, barely audible.  He was feeling such pleasure that he couldn’t seem to get his vocal cords to work properly.  “Fuck my asshole.  Yeah!”

Luis bent his body tightly over Charlie, making no move to kiss him, but searching for the easiest possible angle to abuse Charlie’s hole.  Charlie’s legs were bent over his torso with his thighs pressed against his torso, and his feet rested on Luis’s chest.  Charlie gave himself over to the sensations, grunting and sighing in harmony with Luis’s pounding.

“Oh,” he all but sang, “Fuck yeah.”

Luis continued to hump at Charlie’s hole for another couple of minutes before he pulled back and stood.  Charlie and Luis both panted heavily.

The director’s voice rang out.  “O.K., guys, I think you’re ready.  Charlie, get out of there.  Daniel, get in.  Take the positions we discussed and get ready.”

Unfortunately, frustration like this was part of the job of a fluffer.  You had to step away when things were getting good so that the “stars” could take over.  Charlie stood from the couch wobbling a little while he caught his breath and cleared his head, and then he moved out of the camera shot.  Finding an open chair, he sank into it so he could watch Daniel getting gangbanged by these four cocks for the next three hours.

The sex was largely continuous, with breaks to grab a bottle of water or reposition cameras or overhead microphones.  Charlie sported a raging hardon as he watched Austin’s pale ass cheeks flexing as he pushed repeatedly into Daniel who was on his back over a coffee table while Luis forced his cock into the bottom’s throat repeatedly, gagging him.  Jack and Miguel stood on each side, with Daniel trying in vain to jerk them both off while his holes were filled. Charlie longed to be in Daniel’s place as the tops changed places, each moving one space to the right.

Eventually, it was time to film the cumshots.  Austin was the first to go.  He flipped Daniel over onto his stomach on the coffee table and pounded furiously for several minutes.  When filming porn, a top is usually allowed to bring himself to climax in any way he wished, an Austin obviously wanted to do by fucking Daniel.  This provided additional footage as well as bringing more of a feeling of immediacy to the filmed money shot.  The other three tops sat on the couch, waiting for their turn and watching, as Daniel whined and begged.

“Oh,” his high-pitched voice pierced the room as he urged Austin on.  “Yeah.  Fuck yeah.  Fucking feed my ass with that fucking load.  Come on.  Yeah.  Shoot it in my fucking hole.  Come on.  Yeah.  Oh, yeah.”

Austin pulled back and pointed his dick directly at Daniel’s crack.  Often, the first couple of spurts – if not all of the load –  went on the model even if the eventual destination was inside so that the people watching the video were sure that the top didn’t fake it.  Six squirts shot forth from Austin’s cock, glazing Daniel’s ass.  Tracing a glob of semen to Daniel’s hole, he pushed his cock back in, taking some of his sperm with him.  “Ohhhh, fuck,” Austin groaned, his legs shuttering as he finished off inside of the cumdump.

As Austin pulled out, a small amount of his cum dribbled down his shaft and the front of his balls, and more trickled down Daniel’s taint.  A final bead of delicious manhood slowly emerged from the slit in his cock head as he backed away.  As he turned and walked out of the camera’s shot, Charlie could see more of his jizz was smeared all over and around his softening cock.

Austin walked over to Charlie.  “Back to work.  Clean off my dick, now.”

This was unusual since a fluffer’s job was usually finished after orgasm was achieved, but Charlie was happy for the additional work.  He got off of the chair and went down on one knee.  He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.  He kept his mouth as wide open as he could manage as he took the semi-soft dick completely into his mouth.  Once he reached the base, Charlie withdrew his tongue back into his mouth, licking the underside of Austin’s shaft as he did so.  He wrapped his lips tightly around it and sucked on his backstroke, savoring the taste of Austin’s load and Daniel’s hole at the same time.  He could feel Austin’s balls start to stir beneath his hand and could feel the dick swelling in his mouth before he released it and licked Austin clean the rest of the way.  Austin breathed heavily a few times, standing still with his eyes closed.  Then, with a slight grin, he turned to find his clothes.

While Charlie had been taking care of Austin, Luis had mounted Daniel.  His thrusts smeared Austin’s semen all over Daniel’s ass as Luis worked in long slow strokes.  Daniel moaned until he heard Luis’s breathing make a subtle change.

“Fucking breed that hole,” Daniel insisted. 

As if he had been waiting for permission to do just that, Luis began driving in and out fiercely.  Austin’s cum load frothed as Luis churned it in and out of Daniel’s hole.  Then, Luis pulled out and grabbed his dick with one hand.  Placing the other hand on the small of Daniel’s back, he jerked himself to completion.

“Fuck yeah,” Daniel called.  “Yeah.  Shoot that load.  Oh, yeah!”

The first shot landed near the top of Daniel’s ass crack.  Luis only let a couple of shots splash for the camera before he wrestled his cock back to Daniel’s hole.  There was another obvious spurt just as he pushed his way back inside the quivering asshole.  Luis grunted as he pushed in as far as he could, sending his babies deep into Daniel’s gut as he continued to fuck out the last of his sperm.

Daniel gulped for air as the massive dick pulled out of him.  Still hard, Luis followed Austin’s lead and made his way to Charlie.  Once again, Charlie took to his knees to perform additional clean-up duty.  His tongue licked at Luis’s impressive member for several minutes until he could taste nothing but skin.  Charlie closed his eyes and gulped appreciatively.

Meanwhile, it was Miguel’s turn.  He had flipped Daniel onto his back on the coffee table and was pumping furiously in the missionary position.  He leaned forward to kiss Daniel’s neck and then stretched further to lock lips with the moaning cocksleeve.  Miguel pulled his cock all of the way out, and a drop of Luis’s – or was it Austin’s? – cum clung to the head of his dick.  It dropped onto the floor as he slid back inside.

Miguel leaned back, bracing his hands on either side of Daniel’s hips and hooking his elbows behind Daniel’s knees.  He began to work quickly, driving himself to give Daniel a third dose of ejaculate.  “Oh my fuck, yeah,” Miguel called as he came, unable to get the first dose of sperm out of Daniel’s hole.  He withdrew as the second burst gushed forth and hit squarely in the gaping hole.  It dribbled down the crack of Daniel’s ass as Miguel began to jerk his dick, glazing Daniel’s balls and crack with an impressive amount.

“Oh, yeah,” Daniel appreciated.  “Big load.”

Miguel shuddered as he pulled back, keeping his cockhead touching Daniel’s body the entire time.  A small river of cum was pushed in front and splashed onto the floor as Miguel found Daniel’s ass and plunged back in.  Sweaty and exhausted, Miguel gave a few perfunctory pumps into Daniel for the camera before he withdrew and staggered out of the camera’s range.

Charlie looked at Miguel expectantly, but he did not seem to notice right away.  Just as Charlie wondered if he was being greedy, Miguel stepped uncertainly over to him.  Charlie grinned as he began enveloping Miguel’s mostly soft dick with his mouth, sucking, and licking him clean just as he had Austin and Luis.

Jack was the last to get off.  At this point, Daniel’s hole was so stretched and sloppy that Jack couldn’t get enough traction to get off by fucking him.  There would need to be an edit in the video here, but that’s the way that things worked sometimes.  Daniel continued to lay on his back with his legs in the air while Jack jerked himself to completion.  He grunted carnally as he painted Daniel’s balls with his lust before sliding inside for a few final thrusts.  Wet slapping sounds drowned out Daniel’s vocalizations as more sperm leaked out of him and down his crack.  When Jack finally withdrew, Daniel’s asshole puckered loosely.

Charlie was out of the chair and standing by the cameraman for this last shot.  Jack stepped away from Daniel and sat heavily in the chair Charlie had vacated.  Wondering if he could go four-for-four, he wandered casually over.  “Want me to clean you off a bit?”

Jack looked up tiredly and gestured to his crotch with one hand.  “Go ahead.  Your throat felt better than his butt did after all that stretching out.”

Reverently, Charlie went to his knees in front of Jack and bowed his head.  Slurping, licking, and sucking, he took as much of the mixed cumloads into his belly as he could.  After a couple of minutes, he raised his head again.  “God, I love this job,” he said out loud.

While Charlie had been washing Jack’s crotch with his mouth, Daniel had jerked himself to completion for the camera for the final load of the day and left for the bathroom to clean himself up and out.  Charlie, on the other hand, wanted to carry this filthy feeling with him until he got home.  His face was slathered in spit, cum, sweat, and lube.  He hoped that he reeked strongly of sex. 

Charlie found his clothes and dressed unhurriedly while the crew began packing up equipment.  The director came over to him holding a clipboard.  He held it out to Charlie.  “So,” he began, “we’re going to need you to sign this.”

Charlie looked at what he was being offered.  “This can’t be right.  It’s a model release form.”

“That’s right,” the director said.  “The producer asked me to think about what could be good bonus features for a special edition or something.  You seemed to be putting on a pretty good show for us, so I had the guys turn on the cameras and mics.  I think we caught most of what you guys did.  But before we can use it, you need to sign this.”

“So,” Charlie replied, “I’m going to be in the movie?  Well, not the movie itself, but something bundled with it?”

“Yep.  Men all over the world are going to see you sucking and getting fucked, and they’re going to bust their loads to you.  And other producers and directors might see you and want to use you in their flicks.  You wanted to get into porn, and this is your chance.  But you need to sign here, first.”

“Well, it’s not quite how I thought I’d get into it, but that’ll do.”  Charlie took the form and signed his name with a joyful flourish.  He wasn’t going to be in the main feature, but he was getting some good exposure this way.  “Glad I could help out, even if I didn’t know I was doing it.  Anything I can do to help increase the amount of semen released into the world is worth doing,” he added. 

The director rolled his eyes and smirked slightly.  “I said the same thing the first time I walked on a set.  Now wipe the ball juice off your chin and go home.”

It’s finally a nice enough day to go for a ride on the motorcycle.

I left early and was just cruising some scenic back roads when I got a flat tire. This was not good.

I was in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire and no cell service. To make matters worse there also was little to no traffic.

After waiting and hoping for someone to come along that should and would help me. I decided to start walking back towards the last small town I passed through.

This is when I heard the roar of a group of motorcycles coming down the road.

As I was standing there they slowed down and actually stopped. There were 8 of them along with a support van and trailer.

The leader of the group walked over to me and asked if I needed some help. I explained my situation to him and he told me they could bring me to their place just down the road and fix my tire for me.

We quickly loaded my bike onto the trailer and got on the road with me riding in the van.

It didn’t take long and we came to what looked like an abandoned farmhouse.

Everyone parked their bikes and the van parked by the big barn doors. They took my bike into the barn and I saw they had a nice set up here.

There was a large work shop along with a bar, tables and chairs. Once everyone was finally out of their helmets and inside, I found they were all black men.

The leader, Mike, told me to talk to Dave about my tire and he would help me fix it.

Once the tire was fixed, I found Mike and thanked him as well as telling I would be leaving now.

Mike told me to wait and have a beer with them first and he would discuss how I could pay them back for the help.

I began to get nervous now but having no choice I sat and had a beer. Mike told me that since none of their women had come along with them today, they were all a little horny and needed some relief.

I quickly told him I was a fag and couldn’t be of any help in that area. He told me that none of them were fags either but didn’t mind getting a little white boy pussy once in a while.

I started to get up but was quickly held in place by one of them that was standing behind me. Mile told me that if I wanted do this the hard way we could but I would not like it in the least.

However, if I cooperated, he was pretty sure I would end up begging for more before it was all over.

Having no choice but to accept my fate I relaxed and told him okay and I wouldn’t fight them.

As they all gathered around me, they began pulling their cocks out and stroking them. I was pulled up from the chair and told to start sucking some cock.

As I was sucking these big black cocks someone was taking my clothes off. Those waiting to be sucked also took their own clothes off. When I had sucked and swallowed all of their loads of cum, I was laid onto a table with my head hanging over one end and my legs over the opposite end.

I could feel something cold being poured onto my ass and running down my crack. Then a finger began rubbing it into my hole. Then a second finger slipped into me.

I began begging them to not fuck me but all that got me was a hard cock pushed into my mouth to quiet me down.

It didn’t take long before Mike was pushing his big cock into my hole and telling me that since he was the leader he got to bust my cherry ass wide open for the rest of them to use.

He had my legs pushed up and over his shoulders as he began pounding my hole. It hurt like hell and if wasn’t for the mouthful of cock I am sure I would be screaming for him to stop.

However, it wasn’t long before I began enjoying it and was moaning. The cock in my mouth was taken away and I began telling him to fuck me. He told me that he knew I would like it and before they were done fucking my holes. I would be their black cock whore.

The cock in my mouth started getting bigger and it wasn’t long before I got my first taste of cum. It exploded and a big burst of cum flooded my mouth. I had no choice but to swallow it or choke on it, I swallowed as much as I could but much of it ran out the corners of my mouth.

Mike started fucking me harder and it was actually beginning to feel good. I couldn’t understand how I could possibly be liking any of this but I was.

When the cock in my mouth pulled out, I began telling Mike to fuck me harder. He just laughed and told me he knew I would like being they’re cum dumpster and fucked me harder.

There was already another big black cock in my mouth now and I was greedily sucking on it.

Mike pushed in as hard and deep as he could and I felt his cock begin flooding my ass with his seed. As soon as he pulled out, he just said, “next”, and another big cock began fucking me.

I have no idea how long this lasted but it seemed like forever. I was taking cock after cock at both ends and liking it.

When it was over Mike told me I would be staying here tonight because they weren’t through with me. I was released from the table and told to stay naked so my holes would be ready at anytime, for more cock.

As the day turned into night, I was almost never without a hard cock in one hole or the other and pretty drunk as well.

Finally, everyone had either gone into the farm house to bed or just passed out right here in the barn. Mike took me into the house with him and as soon as he had me in his bed, he had my back against him and began fucking me.

When the sun woke me up in the morning, I could feel Mike slowly fucking my ass. I pushed back at him to let him know I was awake and he really went to town on me then.

When he had emptied his first load of the day deep inside me, we got up and went into the kitchen. There were several girls in there, cooking breakfast. I was a little embarrassed being the only one with no clothes on.

Mike told them I was the gangs new white boy pussy. One of them asked him If that meant they could have some fun with me too. He told them, “of course you can”. He loves to suck cock and takes it in his pussy like a pro. He can lick you all clean after we fuck you.

We ate pretty much in silence as everyone was pretty hung over. When we were done eating, he took me out to the barn and told me to clean up the place. There were empty beer bottles everywhere.

As I was doing this my ass would be grabbed or my nipples would be pinched and pulled. I had a constant hard on the entire time.

When the girls, three of them, came in I was on my knees sucking one of the guys cocks. He was sitting beside Mike on a sofa. I heard one of the women telling Mike that they weren’t happy that all the guys seemed more interested in me and were not paying much attention to them.

He told her to get his cock out, get it hard and sit on it. She quickly stripped what little she was wearing and started sucking him to his full hardness. Then she stood up turned around and sat down taking him all the way in.

Mike told me to get over here and start liking his cock and her pussy as she rode him.

As I was doing this, I felt someone fingering my hole. The girl on Mike’s cock told this person to go get her strap on and fuck my ass hard. It wasn’t long before I was getting fucked with what assumed was a big dildo as I was working on the cock and pussy in front of me.

Mike suddenly stiffened and held her tightly down on his cock and began filling her with his seed. When he finished emptying his balls into her, he told her to sit on my face and feed it all to me.

As I was on my back cleaning out this pussy above my face, I felt someone start sucking on my cock. I couldn’t tell who it was but figured it had to be one of the girls since no one had sucked me last night.

As soon as I finished cleaning this girl’s pussy another one took her place. She had just been fucked by one of the guys and wanted her pussy cleaned out now.

Between eating all of the cum filled pussy’s and having my own cock sucked it was just too much and I shot a huge load of cum into the hungry mouth sucking me.

Once everyone had been satisfied by my eager mouth and ass, we all just hung out for awhile drinking beer and watching some sports on their big screen TV.

At least all of them were, as for me I was constantly being passed around and sucking cocks or eating pussy with a vibrating but plug stuffed in my ass.

Every now and then I would feel it buzzing and would just freeze from the stimulation. It kept my cock hard and dripping.

Around noon Mike decided that they would ride. He told me I was free to go but I would be back with them the following weekend. He wanted me here at the farm on Friday night by 7.

He told me that they knew where I lived and if I wasn’t here by then that they would come get me. But if they had to come get me, I would be dragged out of my house naked for all the neighbors to see and taken away with them.

I told him I would be here on time. With that I dressed and left for home.

Deep down I knew I would return because I was now just another white whore for black cocks.

Keep eyes down. Sat passively. Head cocked gently down. Put there. Like bag of shopping. Put on the seat across from him. Like other shoppers around us in the supermarket cafe. What’s the difference? Parked his car. Saturday morning supermarket. Now in cafe afterwards. 

Am sitting quietly with his bags of groceries. He wants the eyes down. Below him. Demurred. 

He’s enjoying his coffee.

Am Still. Stopped for him. Patient. Like the grocery bags. Objects in his world. Unknowing, unspeaking. Useful to a point. Waiting for his hand to come for you. Pick you up. Grip you. Move you as he wills. Takes you as he wants. Back to the car. Back to the room.

Am in tracksuit pants and t-shirt now. After the run on the canal towpath. Went back to his car. Was naked. More or less. Apart from the trainers. And the skimp shorts. Barely enough. Not enough to cover all the cock and balls. Chucked these at me. Tracksuit pants. t-shirt.

“Gooin shoppin.”

Put them on fast. Wait patiently in the passenger seat. Breathe deeply as he tears his way through roads. Nuisance traffic. Them fuckers in the way.

On arrival at supermarket. He doesn’t say a word. He darts straight for the cafe. He’s gonna enjoy himself with a coffee. Chill out after the run. 

Has drilled into me. The weekly shopping list.

Up and down the aisles. Collecting all the items exactly as he wants them. The brands exactly as he wants them. Quantities exactly as he wants them. Sometimes out of stock for something that he wants. Have to risk a substitute. If he finds it in the kitchen cupboard later and he don’t like it, he’ll fucking show his displeasure.

Thankful to him. For the tracksuit pants and t-shirt. Walking up and down the aisles. Saturday morning shop. Superstore off the motorway junction. Sea of cars in car park. Trolleys. Tracksuits. Prams. Trainers. Cigarettes. Squabbling couples. Idling gossip. Obstructing centre of aisles. Pass it all. In service for him. In the tracksuit and t-shirt he chucked earlier. He dressed his drone. Cock pushing out underneath from skimp shorts through skintight tracksuit bottoms. Tent pole tracksuit pants. A bit. Not likely to be noticed. Not likely. Thankful to him for this.

Finish the shop. Carry bags back to cafe.

Must carry the bags, he says. Not use a trolley. Wants to see some muscle, he says. More muscle, he says. Get some tone, he says.

He’s got a table by the window. He’s sitting in the sunshine. Squinting a bit as he scrolls on his phone.

Approach quietly, respectfully. Place the bags gently so as not to disturb him. Stand and wait. Very subtly. 

He nudges his head down, nods, towards the seat, which means sit down. That’s where he puts me. Amongst the shopping bags. Sit down, eyes down, silent. Passive. Compliant.

He will have had a piss when he got here. Haven’t had a piss since the run. Need to piss badly. Daren’t ask him. Speaking without being spoken to. He don’t like it. Enjoying himself. Saturday morning coffee. Cafe at the supermarket. Don’t wanna disturb him. Don’t wanna interrupt his rhythm. Don’t want his scowl. Don’t want that from him. Don’t want that for him. 

Fucken hell. Need to piss.

Some video on his phone, he’s laughing at it now. Pushes his now empty coffee cup towards me. Without looking away from his phone. That’s signal to get him another coffee. Take the cup. Begin to move away towards the cashier. 

“And a bacon bap.”

He wants a bacon sandwich as well. Nothing for me of course. Of course. Fetch it for him. Place it as he wants it on the table. In the way that he wants it. Never looks up from his phone. Resume my compliant spot. Eyes down. Not a sound.

Really need to piss. Breathe deep. It’ll pass. Hopefully. It’s all in the mind. Hopefully.

Eating his bacon sandwich. Smells good. He’s relaxed. That’s good. He’s having a stretch. Looking out the window, taking in the sunshine. Stretches himself in his seat. Feel his foot. He’s moved his foot under the table. To stretch out and rest in my groin. In the groin. Just the weight of his trainer. One foot. Nudged in the corner of groin. Resting on the ball sack. Nudging the cock. He pushes it in just so that it’s snug. 

Snug.

Must remain still and quiet. Eyes down. His little one. Meek beside him. Content. To be in his world. To be his. To be his footstool. 

Really need to piss. 

Must not break.

This is what it’s all about. Serving him. Serving this thing we do. Being present. “Proper”. As he says. Don’t matter then, the need to piss. ‘Cause right now, he has what he wants, in the way that he wants it. “Proper”. 

As he says. 

“Proper.”

When he’s ready he’s up on his feet, phone in his pocket, scratches his belly lazy under his t-shirt as he takes in a bit more sunshine. Stand as he stands. See a chance. Bend one knee down slightly and pinch tracksuit bottoms near groin. He cops it. thankfully. Am his little one squirming for a piss beside him but not saying a word. Eyes down. 

“Fucking hell. Couldn’t av gone before? Fucken hold it.”

He moves away towards car park. Carry his bags for him. Pack the boot. Sit quietly as his passenger. Hold piss. 

No detours. He pulls car into the drive.

Sun’s out on a Saturday morning, neighbour plays music loud. Can hear it up and down the street. He had out with the neighbour a couple weekends ago. But now the neighbours at it again.
 
Turned the engine off. The thump coming through the car from the music. Feel him freeze stiff. Holding his breath. His teeth tight and grind. Watch his fists tighten on the steering wheel. Gonna rip the steering wheel out. Bangs the steering wheel with his fists. Twice. Grunts. Car door flies. In a furious rush, he moves onto the street. In the rear-view mirror, see that he’s stopped still. 

He does this. Gathers himself. Has a discipline. Has had to learn it. For the consequences. So as a matter of fact, he’s good at this. Pools his anger. Harnesses it. Focuses it. Breathes. Now he’s moving again. The neighbour’s in his front yard, washing his car.

It starts low. Seems to be going okay, like the other weekend. But now, the neighbour’s hands are flying around. Neighbour’s finger pointing – fuck me – neighbour pointing finger in his face. Fucken hell. It’s going off the rails. Voices have raised. 

Gonna get the shopping in. Gonna get inside.   

Am packing groceries away. Can hear him outside. On the street. Row with the neighbour now louder than the music.

Almost finished putting the groceries away. 

Hear the door slam as he comes back. 

He ain’t calm.

Can hear his breath’s fast. Fluster in his movement, his body. 

He’s muttering as he thumps up the hall. About the fucker across the way. 

Now he’s in the kitchen. Hurling himself about. Gets glass of water. Turns tap too hard. Splashes himself with water. Slams the faucet. Shoves me aside as he goes for paper towel. Trying to keep mind on the task. Get the groceries packed away, like he wants. 

This is not like him. He’s thrown. He’s out of focus. He’s slamming doors. Cupboard doors. Looking for something. Then I hear it. 

“What the fuck’s this?”

Turn around. He’s holding the box of rice from the food shop. Am silent. Still. Don’t say nothing. 

He slaps me. Hard across the face. Fuck that hurt. 

“Are you deaf? Well, I’ll tell you what it is. It’s fucking wrong.”

Don’t know what he means. It’s the rice, the healthy rice he wants. He shoves the box in my face. 

“What does that say?”

“Healthy, long grain-“

But I don’t get it out. After I say the word “healthy”, he slaps me again. 

“What does it say?”

“Long grain.”

“And what are you meant to get?”

The penny drops. It aint whole grain. He wants whole grain rice. 

To be fair, I don’t really understand the difference. But that don’t matter do it. Do it? The understanding. What matters is doing what he wants. Getting what he wants. Giving him what he wants. 

“You like this shit? You want this shit?”

He’s still hurling from the anger from the street. He reaches down to a lower cupboard, pulls out the dog bowl, puts it on the floor. Rips open the rice, empties it into the dog bowl. 

“Go on then. Fucken eat up.”

On my knees. Face at the dog bowl. Start eating the rice. 

It’s dry. Dry. Dry. In the mouth. Hard to swallow. Cough when I try to swallow it. He kicks my ass. 

“You ay enjoying it? Fucken go at it.”

More mouthfuls. But it’s too much. Dry retch. Cough some of it up.

“Well, fuck me. Bit dry ay it?”

Next thing there’s piss coming over my head and into the bowl. He’s pissing into the bowl, filling it up with his piss. 

“Better ay it? Go on then. That’s your dinner. And your tea. Tuck in.”

Can’t hold it any longer. The piss that he’s had me holding since the run on the towpath hours earlier comes gushing out into the tracksuit pants he put on me earlier. Then onto the kitchen floor. He clocks it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Pissed yerself again?”

He steps over the puddle of my piss and grabs beer from the fridge. 

“Lap it up. All of it. Dig in. Lap it up. Gonna enjoy meself this beer and you’re gonna make this kitchen floor fucken shine. Get it down yer.”

Parks himself leaning on kitchen bench. Hear the beer can ring come off. Hear him sipping his beer. 

With tongue and mouth consume piss and rice from dog bowl and around bowl.

After a bit he leans down, grabs neck, turns me down other end of kitchen, above puddle of my own piss. 

“You missed a spot.”

Then he pushes my face into puddle of piss, then feel his foot in back of my neck hold the head, nose, mouth down into the piss. 

Struggle to lick it up with pressure of his foot pushing head, face, mouth flat to floor in piss.

But make do.

For him.

Part 8

1st Party, Continued

Things were busier than I expected.  Jordan and Will left and I think it was a huge relief to his parents.  Hopefully the two younger boys went back to Jordan’s house and continued their gay sex adventures.  Or just fucked like rabbits.  Neither seemed dumb, but at that age they were probably full of cum again.  A lot of people were upstairs or out on the patio socializing by the time that Troy, Mac, Drew and Sid showed up.  They grabbed a drink and headed down to the basement, just saying a quick “hello” on their way.    

While I wanted everyone to spend time mingling, I knew the group on the spreadsheet were more interested in seeing the playroom back together.  A few minutes later, I headed downstairs.  Before entering the playroom, I pulled my tee off, leaving me in just a pair of baggy, sagging cargo shorts and sandals.  Now, I’d fit in better with the mostly naked people down there.  The hot tub group were standing against the wall with Manny.  I knew my friends or play partners were going to talk to each other at these parties and I hoped that it wasn’t going to make it more complicated for me, now or in the future.

Troy’s group seemed to be joking around with Manny as their eyes scanned the room.  I wasn’t sure whether they were looking for prey or just seeing who showed up.  It took me a minute to get the guts to approach them and I hoped that they wouldn’t attack me the second I was there, but I took the chance anyway.  Manny came up behind me and I heard him let out a sinister laugh which usually meant he was up to something.  A moment later I felt a thick leather collar get put on and clasped around my neck.  Two seconds later, a matching cuff went around my left wrist followed by another cuff on my right wrist.

“Fuckin’ great job you did down here, Kevin.   I might have to ask to borrow it for our group’s sessions.  I bet you’d charge less than the dungeon we use now” Manny said.  Nothing was said about the restraints he had put on me but I knew better than to ask.

After nervously chuckling a moment, I replied “One of the neighbors stored a lot of this stuff after the old owner moved and I was given first chance at it so I could reassemble the old playroom.  I hope Cal makes it tonight.”

“He’ll be here a little later.  I think he’s picking up his boy” Troy said.  Visions ran through my head wondering which type of boy he meant.  I was learning with these neighbors not to have any preconceived notions.  The term boy might mean his biological son or a sex partner, or both.  Four people were bent over each side of the padded platform with someone behind them either fucking them or prepping them.  One pair I saw was Jay and Alex from the house behind mine, opposite them was another pair of neighbors that lived on either side of George’s house.  I wondered if George and his wife knew they had queer people all around them without knowing it.  Or if Jordan knew.

The two top pairs I recognized from the hood, but had never talked to them other than sending the invitation.  Right now wasn’t really a good time to introduce myself since they were busy.  In the one corner, I saw a four or five naked women talking.  One had a velvet collar on and another held a riding crop in her hand behind her back.  It could have been a pre-play discussion, a post play chat or just wives talking about their husbands playing.  I was just happy that everyone seemed to be having a good time whether gay, bi or straight.

During a quick check upstairs, I found two women toying with a guy in the spare bedroom while a few watched just outside the door.  My friend Garrett made a comment about the lack of shirt, the collar and cuffs, telling me “Finally getting some play time?  I guess I need to spend some time downstairs.”  A quick check of the back patio found only a group of three guys watching two women make out.  

Satisfied that everything was OK in the social areas, I headed back into the house.  I grabbed a quick shot of whiskey before going down to the playroom with three or four guys following me, including Garrett.  It was getting crowded by then and I saw Manny trying to show George and his wife how to use the sling.  It was funny to see them where their son and his boyfriend had been playing earlier.  While I was watching them, I felt someone come up behind me.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were taken.  I hope your Sir doesn’t object to us using you before.  You should have told us” Troy said quietly into my ear.

The comment made me chuckle to myself but it did show that he respected other doms.  “No worries.  He lets me play with others when he’s not around.  And sometimes when he is.  I’m not sure what he has planned tonight” I replied.   My relationship with Manny wasn’t really like a traditional D/s pair, it was much more casual, but I didn’t like to explain it to others so I could use it as an excuse if need be.  

“Ah, good.   You still need to experience all of the guys from the tub club.  I hope the rest will be here soon” Troy said.  As soon as he finished his sentence, Cal entered the room with an early twenties guy in tow.  He didn’t seem to be blood related but I hadn’t met Cal’s wife/girlfriend/ex to be sure.  He was cute but his submissive demeanor told me we both played on the same team.  The large bulge in his jeans would probably go to waste but Manny, Troy or their friends were never short of surprises.  

I continued to wander around the basement, seeing a different side to most of my neighbors.  This might not have been the gay mecca that I was originally looking for, but finding out that there were a lot of “somewhere on the queer spectrum” people in my hood told me I made a good decision by moving here.  Whether I took advantage of the variety of dick that was available close by would be an interesting way to occupy the future weeks, months or years to come.  

My new vantage point between the throne and the slings let me see the entire playroom and every spot was being used.  There might not have been any music being played, but the syncopated rhythms of noises from each of the pairs or groups was music to my ears. 

George’s grunts were pretty similar to the ones I heard from Jordan earlier, but he sure didn’t squeal like his mom did.  From both of their expressions they were learning some new ways to pleasure each other and weren’t bothered how many people were watching them.  Terry and his wife were with another neighbor, Hector and his partner Rose.  The guys kept swapping back and forth fucking each other while the women encouraged them in between make out sessions.  My ass began to twitch as I realized I needed to get some action before the night ended.  Watching everyone else have fun was more than my horny body could take. 

I moved around the corner, closer to the doorway when someone came up next to me while I watched some more supposedly straight neighbors proving that it was more of a facade than anything else.  “There’s some guys upstairs wearing nothing but tee’s and boots spitroasting a couple people.  The tee shirts have a logo for some landscaping company…  It’s really hot but I thought that we were only supposed to play down here or in the bedrooms” Evan said, looking like he might have turned down a few chances of being slutty in my living room earlier.

A few visions of my session with the landscapers and the furniture delivery guys flashed through my head and he was probably even more confused by my euphoric smile.  “It’s a long story but they might have not heard about that rule.  The living room is where we played the last time when they were trying to sell me on their yard services.  I invited them tonight hoping I’d get a good deal for some work on the house when I go out of town” I replied.  While I might not have been a good host greeting them, apparently they fit right in.  As soon as the word “played” came out of my mouth, Evan had a twinkle in his eye and a devious grin quickly hit his face.  I watched him briskly walk back towards the stairs to hopefully experience some of what I’d gotten a month earlier.    

A minute after Evan went in search of landscaper dick, I felt Manny’s familiar paw on my shoulder.  “Ready to stop being a hostess and have some fun?” he whispered into my ear.  I just grinned but it was enough to let Manny know that I was more than ready.  Only a minute later I was on my knees next to the St. Andrews Cross.  Manny had lost his jockstrap and all I saw was a partially hard cock and his pubes.  I knew what to do but before I could begin servicing him, Cal came up with his boy.  This time the boy was completely naked, except for wrist and ankle cuffs and a shit eating grin.  

While Cal locked him down on the cross, I began to take care of Manny’s stiffening member.  I was surprised that I tasted only sweat and a little bit of piss.  Apparently he’d been saving himself for me so I didn’t want to disappoint him.  One deep breath and I took the thick shaft in, my lips grazing over the firm flesh followed by my eager tongue.  It was a tight fit into my throat but with a little effort I was able to get the uncovered head into my throat.  It had taken me a few years to be able to do that without needing to use my hands to pull my face into his crotch, but it was rewarding to be able to do it.  I knew Manny enjoyed it since I heard him say “Ahhh, fuck yeah.  That’s my boy.” 

Based on the sounds I heard, it was now more than just the four of us.  I wasn’t about to look around since I knew my job was to please only the guy in front of me.   After a few gentle squeezes of my throat, I started to bob on Manny’s dick.  Where this lead was not up to me, Manny would take care of what direction this went.  There were a few comments that I heard and it seemed that the nearby group were going to be using both Cal’s boy and I.  Manny’s hand took it’s usual spot on the back of my head as he face fucked me for a few more minutes before pulling out.  

“Thanks, boy” he said, before moving over and another stiff cock was now in front of me.  There was no need to look up to match the face and dick, I knew it was Troy’s.  Not a word was said and I knew what my job was.  My lips, tongue and throat were now occupied by a new man’s penis.  While I worked the shaft over, Troy would occasionally plant himself into my throat for several seconds.  While he might have been pushing the limits of my lung capacity, I knew he’d never suffocate me with Manny close by.  However, Manny was occupied and it sounded like Cal’s boy was his latest target.  

“Oh my fuckin’ god!” cried out a voice next to me.  It wasn’t one of the guys from the hot tub group or anyone else’s voice that I recognized so I assumed it was Cal’s boy.

“Shut up and relax, boy.  You can take it” Cal said sternly which was followed by Manny’s familiar chuckle.  My guess was that he wasn’t used to anything quite that thick getting shoved up his ass.  Troy seemed to laugh too and began to plow into my mouth and throat.  He continued for a while until I heard Manny say “Yeah, that’s it… You CAN take it all” mixed with grunts and groans from Cal’s boy.   It continued for a few minutes until I heard Manny’s familiar growl.  I figured that Cal’s boy had taken the load I expected to get.

Troy held my head and pulled his cock from my mouth, patting my cheek gently and saying “Thanks” before moving over like Manny had.  The next dick that went in my mouth was cum covered and not completely hard when I started.  A few seconds in, I heard Cal’s voice say “Ah, yeah.  Clean that fucker up.”  Cleaning dick is very different than prepping it to fuck a hole and rather than pleasure it, my tongue went to work lapping up whatever cum it could find.  Both tended to get a cock hard and Cal was no different.  It might have been only at half mast when I started, but was very hard when I was done.  Once Cal was satisfied, he backed away to be replaced by Mac.

This is how I spent the next hour or so.  To be honest I have no idea how long I was there, cleaning or sucking dick.  I was happy that I’d put the padded tiles on the floor around some of the furniture since I doubt I’d been able to stay kneeling like that on bare concrete.  I’d suck a guy to get him hard and slick before I was presented with a cum covered shaft to clean that had just bred Cal’s boy.  Mac was followed by Sid and then Drew.  

Three new guys followed and from the conversation they were having, they were the other hot tub club members.  When I noticed no one standing in line I had one last guy to clean.  It was long, thin and dark and after I had licked the last remnants of cum off they guy held my head and pushed all the way down into my throat.

“Damn, you ain’t kiddin.  This cocksucker can really take it deep” I heard the guy say and several guys laughed.

When you suck a guy for several years it doesn’t take much of a glimpse to figure out who he is.   A foot, knee, dick, nip or pit is usually enough and I’d seen every part of Manny numerous times.   He was the one in front of me and when he hooked his finger into the D-ring on the collar I knew he wanted me on my feet.   

“Stroke it boy, you got to feel this boy’s sloppy ass” Manny told me.   Some of the guys were surprised, but I did as I was ordered to.  It wasn’t difficult since I usually got partially hard when I sucked a guy and it got harder when there were several to service.   A minute later, my cock was pushing into Cal’s boy’s ass.  It was slick and I knew from cleaning these guys that he’d been flooded with cum.   Manny’s hand was around the back of my neck and I knew not to disappoint him.   It was a quick fuck, lasting only about five minutes before I added several spurts of my own seed to the cum filled hole.

When I had settled down, the grip on my neck pulled me back.  I watched Cal unlock his boy from the cross before guiding him to the spot that I had been in earlier.   “Yeah, you’re next” Manny said and I assume my spot on the cross.  While I had been in this position before, I was trembling since my ass didn’t have any prep work and I hoped Manny wasn’t going to be the first one in without at least a little stretching of my hole.

Manny understood my predicament, even though nothing was said.  He was experienced and knew that I had to be dry and tight.  His spit covered fingers spent the next few minutes working me open.  With his head was over my shoulder, the bushy beard nestled in close.   “You done a good job tonight.  These people are happy pigs knowing that the play room is back. Now make me proud” he whispered into my ear.   I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but I had a good idea.

“You… Gabriel, was it?  Come here” I heard him call out.  Nothing else was said, but I’m sure there were a few gestures after Manny backed away.  Seconds later, I felt a cock press between my butt cheeks and then push against my pucker.  A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders with his thumbs around the base of my neck.  I relaxed as he pushed his cock forward and a second later he slipped inside.   From the feel, it was the last guy that I sucked and I was relieved that the first cock of the evening was something much less girthy than Manny’s thick, uncut chorizo.   

He worked his dick in deeper with short strokes which got longer pretty quickly.  Only a couple minutes later I felt him thrust in and plant all ten or so inches inside me.  “Fuck yeah!” the guy exclaimed and it was the same voice from the last guy I sucked.  Once he knew I could take it all in either end, he began long, hard strokes.   His hips bounced off my ass until he started to moan.  The cock inside me did thicken right before he gave a last lunge in.  I could feel his cock throb as ropes of jizz filled me up.  After the last shot pumped out, he stayed planted a few moments before slowly pulling out.  From the slow drag as he pulled back, it felt like I had over a foot of dick in me.

“I’m gonna want more of that sweet pussy” he said softly in my ear right before he slapped my ass.   Now that I was open and lubed, I was ready for more and it was a something I was looking forward to.   Manny was next and he started a line of dick plowing into my restrained body.  I’m sure it was the same group that had drilled Cal’s boy and he was sucking and cleaning everyone like I had.

Eight guys had fucked me, each one finishing with a growl as he unloaded.  They each had their own style and I’d only been fucked by three of them before – Manny, Troy and Mac.  I prefer sling fucks since I can look around and see the people watching me get used, but I wasn’t complaining about staring at the wall or just to the sides since it felt so good to please that many guys.   I was sore, though.  Hanging from the cross, even though my feet were on the floor had left my body stiff from being in the same position for a long time.  When the last one, Mac, pulled out Manny stuffed my hole with a freezing cold steel plug.

It was a relief to get some bloodflow back into my hands now that I was off the cross and it gave me a chance to look at the group that were watching the spectacle of me and Cal’s boy get used.  From their expressions, everyone seemed to enjoy it but I doubt no one liked it more than the participants.  A few others were still playing, but most people started to collect their clothes or make their way to the very full shower area.

I learned that Cal’s boy was named JR which I wasn’t sure meant “Junior” or were initials for his first and middle name.  A puddle was forming below him as I watched him try and clench his but to no avail since he had a lot of cum inside him.  Cal dragged him to the side and while he removed the cuffs and collar before JR dressed, the wet spot on his jeans was going to let everyone know what he’d been up to.   When a spot finally opened up in the shower, I rinsed off quickly before heading upstairs.  

It was almost four in the morning when the last people left.  A half dozen were crashed out on the floor of the living room and three more were sharing the queen sized bed in the spare bedroom.  I was exhausted but happy that the party went well.  Even George and his wife had stayed until almost the end and thanked me for inviting them.  I’m sure their sex life would be a lot more interesting in the future as would their son’s. 

“And what would be the price if I paid cash?”

Vince Jacobs nearly gagged on his beer. He’d recognized who he was dealing with as soon as Chaz Nelson walked into the Rail Pub in oldtown Savannah, Georgia, for their meeting about the oceanfront property on Tybee Island. He knew Nelson was a young pro tennis player. But he wasn’t first tier. How much did second- and third-tier tennis pros make? Vince wondered.

“I’ll have to call Mr. Hopkins for that figure. It wouldn’t be anything less than a million, though, I’m sure.” Jacobs was trying to call the young man off calling Hopkins and embarrassing them all. The asking price for the small oceanfront house on Tybee Island to the south of Savannah was $1.2 million. The house itself was a 1,000-square foot fixer upper. The value was in the waterfront lot in an upscale ocean resort. Even at $1.2 million, a buyer probably would be interested in knocking the house down and building a mansion. Nelson had indicated a house that small was fine with him.

“Who is Mr. Hopkins?” Nelson asked.

“He’s the head of Peach State Homes, the Realty company handling the property.”

“Yes, then please call him.”

“I’ll go to the head when I do so, if you don’t mind.” Jacobs would want to let Hopkins know who they were dealing with and he’d prefer doing it out of the young tennis player’s hearing.

While he was gone Nelson went over the transaction in his mind. Did he still want to do this? The money wasn’t the issue. He’d done well during the last two seasons on the pro circuit, although he’d gotten a late start, having played collegiate tennis for two years before going pro. He’d only won a couple of minor tournaments, but he’d made it to round two in two majors, which paid very well. Most of the money had come endorsements. Major companies, in pursuing political correctness, sponsored him because he was openly gay—and extremely photogenic.

He languished in the high thirties in ranking, but considering how many were trying to make it as pros, that was good. He’d put half his earnings aside for two years to buy someplace he could call home. He’d been surprised when he’d seen the Tybee Island property listing. He was interested for nostalgic purposes.

When Jacobs came back, he said, “For cash, we could let the property go for one million. It’ $1.2 million if financed, with $200,000 up front to the seller. But I want to be sure that you understand that it’s small and needs a lot of work. The value is in the lot. There’s no need to go out there and inspect it if you know up front it’s not what you want.”

“I understand. I’m still interested. Who is the seller?” Was it Marty? Marty had been his first tennis coach. That’s how Chaz knew about the property already. He’d been there before. But Marty was in prison now, incarcerated for how he’d messed around with the young male tennis players he’d coached, one of whom committed suicide, which brought it all into the public spotlight. And from what Chaz had heard, Marty was sick with heart problems and probably would never come out of prison.

“The seller wants to remain nameless,” Jacobs answered.

“That’s OK, I don’t need to know,” Nelson said. But I certainly would like to know if Marty was the one getting this much money he’d never be able to spend for a property he’d never again be able to use. But, he thought, that was being catty. At twenty-one, he’d made his peace with his past relationship with Marty Fowler years ago. There was both bad and good and he could only feel sorry that Marty probably would never taste freedom again. He’d been a great coach despite all the rest of it. Nelson wouldn’t have been where he was in tennis today without the training he’d gotten from Fowler. Would he have been openly gay, though? One didn’t know the answer to that one.

“Yes, I’m still interested in the property,” he reiterated, “paying cash. Can we go see it now?”

“Yes, of course,” Vince answered. “Here, let me get this tab.” One million was five times what they were hoping to make out of this. Covering a lunch tab was peanuts. “I didn’t ask. Where are you staying in Savannah?”

“I’m booked at the Foley House Inn.”

“Great place,” Vince said.

“Yes. I was told it was gay friendly and it has proven to be that.” There, that established that, Chaz thought, if the man hadn’t already figured out who he was and that he was gay. Vince exhibited as gay himself: good looking, nice build, dress style conscious, a bit effeminate, maybe. If gay, he probably was a submissive. Chaz wondered if Hopkins had chosen Vince to be the Realtor for the Tybee Island property for Chaz because he knew Chaz was gay and a top.

As a matter of fact, yes, Hopkins had done so. Hopkins was not one to overlook any possible advantage in this transaction. He had even known that the property belonged to the imprisoned tennis coach, Marty Fowler, and that Chaz Nelson had been coached by Fowler. Knowing this, he’d made sure that Nelson found out the property was for sale.

Vince had been engaging in some signaling that he was a gay submissive but was unsure Chaz had gotten the message—until they left the pub and were getting in Vince’s car. Chaz opened the driver’s door for Vince, who touched him on the forearm as he came around to enter the vehicle. The gesture of opening the door in itself was a declaration of dominance, but to drive the act home, Chaz palmed Vince’s buttocks before the Realtor slid into the driver’s seat.

* * * *

“So, what do you think?” Vince Jacobs asked after they’d been through the property on the ocean near the intersection of Butler Avenue and 7th Street on Tybee Island. He knew what Chaz should think. He should think that the building should be razed and something new built here—and he should lose interest in spending a million dollars this way, assuming the young guy really did have a million dollars to spend this way. Jacobs wasn’t convinced this was the case yet.

The house really was small, but then so was the lot. All it had going for it was that it did have a wooden walkway in relative good condition floating over two waves of dunes and down to the ocean beach. The house was a story and a half, clapboard, built probably in the 1950s, with a hallway entrance on the street side. When entering, there was a bedroom to the left and a bath and kitchen to the left. This then opened out to a dining room area, then a living room, opening out onto the deck facing the ocean. The living-dining area was a story and a half high under a sloping roof. A loft area over the bedroom and kitchen provided a second bedroom area with bath. The kitchen opened to the dining area with a counter. The condition of everything could be characterized as “a bit sad” and certainly outdated.

How could a young tennis pro be attracted to this? Jacobs wondered—especially at a cost of a million. And the Savannah area didn’t have any professional tennis facilities near it. Why did this guy even make the trip out to look at the place? But then he paid attention to how Nelson reacted to everything he saw while he slowly walked through the small house and then out onto the deck, staring out to the ocean.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, coming up to stand next to Chaz on the deck.

“Yes, a few years ago,” Chaz answered. This was where he’d lost his virginity to men. And that hadn’t been all bad—it had, in fact, released him from frustrations he would have had even if Marty Fowler hadn’t been his demanding coach. Demanding more than just discipline in the playing of tennis. It hadn’t all been bad here. Not bad at all, really.

He didn’t provide a further explanation, but Jacobs didn’t really need one. He could fill in the blanks on his own. As they stood there, Chaz put an arm around Vince, and the Realtor leaned into him. The two of them had increasingly warmed to each other during the drive out to the ocean. Jacobs knew the Foley House Inn on West Bull Street, near Orleans Square, catered to gays. He’d used this understanding—even where he’d chosen for them to meet, at the Rail Bar, which was gay friendly—to signal his interest. Nelson was a blond god, in great shape, as he’d have to be to succeed in tennis on the pro circuit. Smaller, darker, lithe, Jacobs thought the two of them would be a perfect fit. Nelson’s responses to his signaling had indicated he thought that as well.

“Yes, I’ll take it,” Chaz said.

“For?”

“I’ll pay cash.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’ll have to get with Mr. Hopkins. He’ll make up the paperwork. He said he’ll want a cashier’s check if you chose cash. I could get him to—”

“No, that will be fine, if you’ll let me know how to do that.” Chaz was a tennis player, not an accountant. He had no idea what the various options and pitfalls of payment mechanisms were.

“Well, what do you want to do from here?” Vince asked.

“You mean today? Tonight? Well, this place has been stripped. No beds.”

Vince laughed, somewhat nervously. This was the first strong signal Nelson was giving back to him. He went with it.

“We could do dinner here at a seafood house to celebrate. Then we could go back to Savannah and take in the show at Club One. You know about Club One?”

“A gay nightclub? Drag Shows? Yes, I’ve heard of that. I was hoping to check it out. Then maybe back to where I’m staying, the Foley House Inn?”

“Yes, of course, if you’d like.”

“I’d like.”

* * * *

They drove down the island in Vince’s rented Porsche to Tybrissa Street and Bernie’s Oyster House restaurant.

“You’ve been here before?” Vince asked.

“Yes, several times,” Chaz answered, looking around, dredging up the memories.

“Has it changed?”

Chaz laughed. “It hasn’t been that long ago.”

“Can you talk about it?”

After they’d ordered, Chaz did talk about it—about how he had worshipped Marty Fowler, who was teaching him to be an excellent tennis player and who had taken him under his wing after an uncle and aunt were more than willing to get him off their hands. He was just beginning to be a burden for them in his moodiness and lack of response to their trying to fit him into the heterosexual world. His parents had died years earlier in an auto accident.

“Is it true, though, what has been charged about his relationships with his male tennis students?” Vince asked.

“Yes, it’s true,” Chaz answered. He said he was already leaning gay when Marty took him under his wing and to a Orlanda, Florida, tennis academy Marty was affiliated with. The coach owned this house on Tybee Island, where he liked to go to “get away.” For a couple of years, he brought Chaz with him.

“I doubt I have to spell it out for you,” he said to Vince as their meal arrived. And then he added, “I won’t say the memories of that were bad. It opened a whole new world for me.”

“No, I guess the memories weren’t bad if you’re buying the house.”

“Thanks for understanding. Here’s our food. Looks delicious, as always. Shall we tuck in?”

They did concentrate on the meal and kept their conversation focused on the food while they ate.

After they’d finished, Vince said. “I wonder . . .” but was finding it hard to continue.

“You’re wondering where we go from here?” Chaz asked.

“Yes, sort of. I wonder if we can drop the Realtor and client relationship for the evening and maybe do some clubbing in Savannah. I’d mentioned Club One and you seemed interested.”

“You mean go on a date?”

“Yes, I guess that’s what I mean.”

“Sounds good to me—on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That maybe we drop the Realtor and client relationship for longer—have it extend over the night.”

Vince smiled.

They caught the early show at the drag queen Club One near the river and then went on to the Club 51 Degrees gay nightclub for dancing and drinking.

They wound up, a bit tipsy, electrified, and holding each other up in Chaz’s Foley House Inn room on West Hull Street. No one had given them a second look or challenged Chaz taking a man to his room as they mounted the stairs.

The room was one of the smaller ones at the inn, one meant for single occupancy. The bed was a double four poster, with strong corner posts. From the marks on the corner posts, they’d obviously been used for restraints before.

Acknowledging his position as the submissive, Vince went down on his knees in front of Chaz as soon as they entered the room, unzipped and freed him, and opened his mouth to the tennis players half erection. The two of them peeled down their clothes while Vince serviced Chaz’s shaft, bringing him to full erection.

When the were both naked, their clothes intertwined on the floor around them, Chaz lifted Vince and half walked, half carried him over to the bed, laying the smaller man’s butt on the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed. Vince lifted and spread his legs, pressing his feet to the corner posts on either side.

“Please. Our belts. My ankles. I like it bound.”

Chaz laughed. He went back and retrieved their belts from their trousers. Coming back he lashed Vince’s ankles to the corner posts on either side, leaving the smaller man’s legs raised, spread, and captive. Then he went down on his knees at the foot of the bed and, initially, took Vince’s shaft in his mouth until that was hard and then moved to eating Vince’s hole out and spreading it open, while Vince moaned, arched his back, and reached down to cup Chaz’s head between his hands to hold him in place.

Satisfied that Vince was open enough, Chaz rose, crouched over Vince’s prone body, put his erection in position with one hand while gliding the other one up Vince’s undulating torso, stopping briefly at Vince’s nubs while Chaz rubbed his cock head over Vince’s hole. The hand moved up to clutching Vince’s throat, holding his head to the mattress, while working his cock inside the spreading hole. Vince moaned and egged Chaz on as the tennis player fucked him and fucked him and fucked him.

Later in the night, Chaz moved a moaning and completely pliable Vince up onto the bed after untying the belts trapping the Realtor’s ankles. Higher on the bed, he retied Vince’s wrists to the intertwined corner posts at the head of the bed, put Vince’s ankles on his shoulders, and gave him another good fucking.

The coupling was sensual—slow, both men fully involved in the rolling and rocking of their hips, both of them whispering, “Yes, yes. Just like that.” Each of them totally into reaching for and achieving mutual pleasure in each other’s bodies.

Even later Chaz freed Vince, turned him over on his side, moved his right leg over Vince’s legs, found purchase of cock in hole, and fucked them both into exhaustion and sleep.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Vince rose, showered, dressed, and left. His note said he’d let Chaz know when closing on the house was and that they’d try to keep the transaction as simple as possible. “No need for a bunch of lawyers and a ceremony at the lawyer’s office,” the note said.

The note didn’t say how much Vince had enjoyed the sex, although he certainly seemed to be in full approval while it was happening. Chaz had felt this good, this sexy and satiated, in sex before. He wanted to hook up with Vince again—and he maybe wanted more than just a one-night stand.

There would be opportunity at closing on the house, Chaz assumed.

* * * *

Chaz Nelson was in Qatar unexpectedly in the third round of a tournament there when notice came through on closing on the Tybee Island house. It came in a voice mail. Chaz turned his phone off for the day of any pro match until it was over. The call was sent by Vince Jacobs, suggesting April 2nd, at the Tybee house for taking care of all of the closing documents.

“Say 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon, if you can make it. We could ditch the lawyers and go into Savannah for a repeat of the last time, if you’re interested.”

Chaz didn’t answer that evening until late, which was still morning in Georgia. He had some celebrating to do for having survived the third round at the Qatar Open. He did send a brief message agreeing to the time and place. He would have texted more but he had a hot date in his hotel room—in his hotel room bathroom, taking a presex shower—and there wasn’t time to text more.

The next morning another voice message was waiting for him when he woke up, messed around a bit more with the guy in his bed, and had seen the guy off, showered, dressed, and checked his phone.

“Hello, Mr. Nelson. This is Hank Hopkins of Peach State Homes. We need to change the closing on the Tybee Island house, if you can manage. How about April 1st at 3:00 p.m. at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel in Atlanta? You can ask for the room number under my name at the reception desk. We’ll do all of the document signing then. Please remember to bring a cashier’s check for the one million.”

Chaz remembered that Hopkins was the decisionmaker at the Realty company handling the Tybee house. He checked his schedule. He could be in Atlanta that day. He still wanted the house, so he’d do what was needed to be able to get to closing on time. He called Hopkins back, getting him on the phone, and they pinned down a closing date, time, and place. April 1st at 3:00 p.m. in a Peachtree Plaza Hotel room in Atlanta, Georgia.

Without thinking further about the transaction because suddenly his tennis results were improving—he was getting deeper into each tournament he entered—Chaz got the cashier’s check and flew into Atlanta on the morning of April 1st. He had a ticket to fly back out from there that night to get set up for the Barcelona Open tournament that he had a court date for in Spain on April 7th.

He made the closing meeting in Hank Hopkins’s room at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel—if, indeed that was the man’s name. No one else was in the room. Hopkins had some fancy documents presigned by everyone supposedly involved except for Chaz. He got Chaz’s signature on the documents and took the cashier’s check from the tennis player, Who simultaneously was hitting a snag on his room reservations in Barcelona and was on the phone on and off during the meeting to Spain. Chaz didn’t pay much attention to the house transaction, just doing everything Hopkins told him he had to do to get the deal closed.

He was in the airport before he realized that he hadn’t gotten the keys to the Tybee house. He tried calling Hopkins’s phone number—and Vince Jacobs’s too—and both were out of service. He went on to Barcelona, once more made it through the third round, and didn’t have time to try to touch base with Peach State Homes again until he lost in the fourth round. He was happy, though. The payoff for making the third round was quite good.

Crickets. He could find no trace of either Hopkins or Jacobs—or, for that matter, Peach State Homes—anywhere.

Chaz skipped the next tournament he could have gone to and flew into Atlanta, the supposed registered location of Peach State Homes, and contacted the police department there. A detective reviewed the documents Chaz had, declared them worthless junk paper, and informed Chaz that a cashier’s check’s history after it left the tennis player’s hand was virtually untraceable.

The man said, “Shit,” as he looked through the paperwork.

“What? What do you see?” Chaz asked, a note of hope in his voice.

“Everything is dated and signed on April 1st,” the detective said. “Son, you’ve not only been scammed out of a million dollars but these guys have rubbed your nose in it—making it an elaborate—and very expensive for you—April Fools Day joke. Sorry, son, the house isn’t yours and you’re out your money. I seriously doubt these scammers had permission to sell the house at all. And you don’t go to closing on a house in a hotel room with just the Realtor present; you do it in a lawyer’s office with both parties represented. Don’t you know that?”

“I know that now for all the good it does me,” Chaz said.

Shit was right.

* * * *

Chaz had such a whirlwind experience in tennis success spiraling up during the spring and early summer that he had little time to think of the million dollars he’d lost and the house he wanted but didn’t get. He did, on occasion, think of how good the sex with the Realtor, Vince Jacobs, had been and to mourn the loss of him in the scam. That was the biggest surprise to Chaz—that Vince had been part of the scam and had just been playing an April Fools Day joke on him—an extremely costly one.

He had been taken on by a tennis academy near Miami, which provided him with coaching, physical conditioning, and a manager. He also was provided a studio apartment on the academy grounds. His corporate sponsorships covered the cost of this. He was a handsome devil, with a great smile, and thus was coveted for corporate advertisement.

His wins at the lower levels rose and his prize money did as well. He peaked by reaching the semifinals at the Washington, D.C., tournament in late July and early August, taking home $98,000 in prize money. Soon thereafter he cracked the top 30 in the men’s rankings and was accepted into the U.S. Open tournament in New York. Here, in his first major tournament appearance, he made it through the second round before meeting a top-ten opponent and going down to him, although the TV commentators praised Chaz’s skill and potential. He earned $130,000 at this tournament. If he continued to rise in the rankings like this, he’d be able to completely forget about the Tybee Island April Fools Day scam.

But he didn’t think he could forget Vince Jacobs and how well they had hit it off.

Vince called him an hour after Chaz’s loss at the U.S. Open, while the tennis player was dressing to go back to his hotel, his ears still buzzing from listening to the recording of the match he’d just played and to the praise of the tennis stars of yesteryear commentators of his play even in loss. So occupied was he with this that he didn’t look at who was calling him; he just connected on the phone.

“Hi, Chaz. It’s Vince Jacobs. Remember me from Tybee Island?—and please don’t hang up, I need to talk to you.”

“Vince?” Chaz asked. “Yes, I remember you. You walked off with a million of my hard-earned dollars.” Chaz paused. Yes, Vince still was continually in his thoughts. This isn’t how he wanted to be talking to him. The money—the scam—hadn’t mattered as far as Vince was concerned. “Look, sorry, Vince. Yes, I remember you. What is there to say, though?”

“I had no idea it was a scam, Chaz. Hopkins hired me with me thinking he had a real Realty company and a legitimate contract to sell that house. I’m sorry you didn’t get the house, but I’m down here in Mexico getting what I can of your money back. We had closing set for April 2nd. We’d meet at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel, but Hopkins said we’d go to the lawyers office from there. I thought it was all legitimate. Then he swept in and changed closing to the 1st and he met with you and took your money without giving you anything in return—and without telling me what he was doing. He cut me completely out of the deal too. I’ve spent all this time tracking him down to Cancun.”

“Your phone got turned off, just like Hopkin’s did,” Chaz said. “You were part of it all.”

“No, I wasn’t. That was a phone that Hopkins had provided. As soon as it went dead, I began to connect the dots. I’ve been tracking him down ever since. I couldn’t get all of your money back, but I have $700,000 I can give you. Sorry, I can’t get you the house you wanted, though.”

“Seven hundred grand. How did you get it?”

“I hired some goons down here when I found him. They beat it out of him. He’s been punished at least for what he did to you and how he used me. We’ve got to meet. I’ve got money to give back to you.”

“You could just wire me the money . . . if that’s the only reason we have for meeting.”

Vince could hear the clutch in the tennis player’s voice.

“Is that the only reason you would have for meeting?” he asked. “No, it isn’t mine. I regret what we didn’t—”

“So do I,” Chaz said. “I’m sorry I said that. I regret what was cut off in our getting hooked up more.”

“So, you’d be willing to meet me again?”

“Yes. Do you still have a key to the Tybee Island house?”

“Yes, but—”

“We could meet there.”

“Hopkins didn’t have the contract on selling that house, Chaz. That house is out of the mix now.”

“No, it’s not,” Chaz said. “Marty Fowler, my former tennis coach, owned the house. He died in April. He left the house to me. It’s my house now. And I didn’t really regret having paid for it when I inherited it for free. I wanted the house, but I was done with Marty. I really didn’t need knowing I had it because he gave it to me. Having paid money for it made me feel better about having it.”

“So, that April Fools Day joke is really on Hopkins and me then,” Vince said.

“Well, on Hopkins, at least. Do you want to meet at the Tybee Island house? It is furnished now. There are a couple of very nice, new beds we could initiate.”

“Any day, any time I can get there,” Vince answered.