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The four stiff cocks were throbbing

Each one pining for a fuck

The bottom lad was on his knees

To give each prick a suck

Only just turned twenty one

He knew just what to do

And gave each rampant cock a suck

And gave their knobs a chew

One of the men could not hold on

And shot his spunk too quick

The bottom lad just slurped it all

And sucked the spurting prick

The other three mature hot guys

Were lined up for a shag

The bottom slut was keen to show

That he was one hot slag

He lay across a pillow

With his arse up in the air

Awaiting big cock number one

To screw his arsehole bare

He liked to feel a length of cock

Without a rubber cover

To take it raw and feel each prick

Fuck one after the other

Only young he’d been a cum dump

Many times before

Each week a bottom for a group

Who’d make his arsehole sore

Now a cock was driving deep

Another in his gob

The third stiff cock he wanked

And squeezed pre cum from out its knob

Each horny fucker got stuck in

To give each one a turn

Then two double fucked the dirty slut

To make his arsehole burn

The lad was whimpering a lot

Tears rolling down his eyes

The two hot pricks began to cum

Spunk running down his thighs

The third cum loaded rigid cock

Shoved up the cum slut’s arse

The squelch of spunk a juicy sound

As he was fucking pretty fast

The cum slut bottom took it well

He lusted loads of spunk

The fucker gave him so much sperm

The lad was semen ‘drunk’

His well fucked arse was oozing cum

And looked a spermy treat

The guys all fought to rim the hole

To slurp and lick and eat

The cum slut started moaning

The tongues were wild and hot

The lad began to wank his prick

And shoot his fucking lot

Open mouths caught much of it

Faces took the rest

And end to one wild session

Arsehole fucked and faces messed.

(Update: I changed some things on this chapter while writing the rest of the story and somehow it ended up doubling in size😳. Please let me know what you think!)

The college where I studied Medicine had a shabby free dorm, a place where students from different branches were crammed together in groups of two in a single room. After my low-profile, nerdy roommate of two years graduated with an IT degree, I was to be assigned another. This, of course, sucked as I had no social skills and wasn’t interested in learning how to live with a complete stranger all over again. My previous roommate had been respectful, and as a result, we got along just fine. Both of us studied a lot and didn’t talk or interact much beyond a brief hello which had been just fine by me.

You can imagine my horror when an Arab guy knocked on my door and introduced himself (in a thick accent) as my new roommate.

Abdul was every stereotype about masculine, hairy Arab men in a single package. He physically towered over me, so that I had to crane my neck uncomfortably to maintain eye contact; or give it up, which felt more natural. I groaned inwardly at the thought of sharing space with what appeared to be a third-world jock. But it’s not like I had any choice, it was either this or a student loan.

Abdul extended his callused hand for a handshake, and we exchanged greetings. He had a very thick English accent, and he called me “my friend” multiple times while putting his large arm around my shoulders, which made me uncomfortable, and forced me to smell his unwashed armpit.

I disentangled myself as quickly as I could and retreated to my small corner of the room giving me some space and allowing my foreign roommate to bring in and organize his stuff.

A few minutes later my clean and tidy room had become unrecognizable. Abdul had unloaded his luggage on my bed, kicked off his shoes in the middle of the room and took off his shirt further littering the floor. I found it uncomfortable to be around people that were casually shirtless, but I didn’t say anything.

He had this look on his face like was doing something complicated separating his socks from his shirts (which I found funny) but what he lacked in, ahem, organizational skills he made up in physical exertion. Even though Abdul was this big man, he paced around quickly, rummaging through his stuff and tossing them into drawers, seemingly having no patience for the boring work of settling into a new place.  

The small dorm room that we are assigned to live in is really only meant for one person but, somehow, they managed to fit two beds in it and a tiny bathroom. While Abdul was claiming his space, I sat at my desk pretending to study to avoid the tense and uncomfortable silence of having absolutely nothing to discuss and lamenting my loss of freedom.

Eventually, by the time he was done, he was sweating and I could smell him from my personal corner. He caught me looking at him and I diverted my gaze back to my book hoping that he would let me be.

“Hey, my friend, are you doing anything important?”, I somehow had to get used to his dumb sounding accent.

I thought it beyond rude to interrupt someone who is studying (or pretending to) but I attributed that to jocks not having the ability to see the value in anything beyond sports and sex.

I told him “Not at all”, in a sarcastic tone, which flew over his head. He walked over and I felt the familiar (already) side bro hug, the sweat from his hairy forearm slicking my neck and new shirt. Abdul then proceeded to act amazed that I was able to read and understand the super basic anatomy textbook I had in front of me and was impressed to learn that I was a Medical student.

He started asking me personal questions about my life with an expression like he wanted to get to know me, which I always found uncomfortable in people. I got up, and sat on my bed as he sat on what he correctly assumed to be his and I was forced into having a conversation with him.

He asked me if I had a girlfriend, to which I rolled my eyes and answered no. I never had or wanted to have a girlfriend (or a boyfriend for that matter). He accepted that, as if it was in accordance to his expectation. We continued trying to make conversation, but the more we talked the less interested he seemed to be in what I had to say.

Out of politeness, I asked him about his plans and personal aspirations from which I learned that he was not here to study and that apparently a lot of young guys from his country use student exchange programs to get to Europe or the U.S. in order to amass a lot of money quickly (relative to them) from manual labor jobs. Abdul had apparently already been hired to work construction even before arriving here, where one of his cousins (another dumb Arab jock, I assumed) also worked at. A job that he claimed will allow him to buy farmland and marry his betrothed.

I was patient as he spoke, and when I started talking about my plans Abdul replied by yawning massively with a non-apologetic look on his face, “Sorry, my friend, I’m very sleepy.”

Still wanting to make a positive impression, almost as if by survival instinct if nothing else (living with a foreign construction guy that could kill me in my sleep was a newfound fear of mine), I ignored the rude interruption to my life’s story and told him that I will maintain quietness and manage without artificial light so that he can rest from his long day of travel.

Throughout our conversation I found myself unable to hold eye contact; staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper or eyeing the floor where his large, socked feet and hairy calves permeated my view.

He simply nodded as he got up, removed his filthy socks, adding to the growing pile on the floor, and took down his shorts revealing some old white briefs underneath (not the preferred choice of undergarment for young western guys) before openly rearranging his stuff and shuffling back to his bed.

He sprawled out on the relatively small bedframe with a contented sigh, one large foot dangling over the edge because of his height. Not having any modesty to cover himself with a bedsheet or the decency to take a shower, the bulge of his sweaty underwear, the dark pubes sticking out from its sides, his dark hairy chest and legs, his masculine body etc. looked obscene to me and I had to look away.

Abdul was much bigger than me, not just taller but also thicker with a flat stomach. His abs were clearly visible, forming thick concrete mounds over his darkened abdomen. He had a bulky, farmer physique with big hairy forearms and a healthy thin layer of fat. The contrast between him and I couldn’t have been more stark. I was a thin, white nerd with pale skin and astigmatism from studying too much. You could tell us apart any which way and with your eyes closed, through his scent alone which was, uh, decidedly manlier.

I tried to sleep but it was impossible due to anxiety, fear and disgust. My eyes kept glancing over at Abdul’s bed, unconsciously studying him while he slept. Above all, I considered myself a scientist. I was top of the class and certainly able to control, study and understand my emotions through reasoning.

I tried to calm myself with thoughts of drifting into endless space (even though Abdul’s rude snoring kept pulling me back into reality) before finally getting pulled into a bizarre dream-filled sleep.

In the early morning, a cacophony of sounds ripped me from my rest. A rough, foreign man’s voice was playing through a cheap speaker, overlaid over an eastern melody that did little to soothe my nerves.

Amidst the noise I became aware of the rhythmic movement of a real, live Arab beside me. There, clad only in briefs, was Abdul, doing push-ups in the cramped space between our beds.

What the fuck?

I was beyond annoyed. What kind of loser wakes up before dawn to exercise? Yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Abdul’s repeating motion as the muscles in his back shifted into defined shapes and his damp briefs clanged tightly over his clenched backside.

I was captivated by the motion, the same way a person might be by a well-oiled internal combustion engine or the live neural patterns of a pianist’s brain scan.

Inhaling and exhaling like an athlete, his movement was effortless and precise, lowering himself down completely on each rep and inadvertently mushing his thinly protected bulge against the cold floor before pushing himself up and repeating the process with no sign of fatigue. 

After a few minutes of this, Abdul had developed considerable sweat which was starting to attack my olfactory senses without consent.

Then, as the Islamic dictation over the radio changed tone, Abdul stopped himself and got on his knees, I thought at first to do a different kind of exercise, before realizing that he started to pray. The sounds on the radio making more sense now.

I continued feigning sleep, partly because I expected him to be done soon and let me get back to it, and because it felt like I was watching something private.

I couldn’t fathom how he thought it was appropriate to make all this noise, before there was even light in the sky, and only at arm’s length from the bed of his sleeping roommate. Yet, Abdul was so focused in his practice that he probably didn’t care or pay attention that I was there, awake and studying him.

His body was positioned at an odd angle, I guess facing exactly east, showing me mostly his back.

I groaned quietly. I had an early class and would be functioning at reduced capacity for no good reason. If it was up to me, religion would be banned in a 10-mile radius around every university campus.

Even so, as he prostrated forward, I couldn’t help but steal peeks at his body. With his forehead touching the floor in prayer, his sweaty backside faced up and stretched the damp fabric of his white briefs obscenely, giving me a very rude and plain view of his hairy ass.

Abdul would occasionally murmur some words in Arabic, as if responding to the voice on the recording. His hushed baritone voice was far more pleasing to my ears compared to the ugly shouting on the radio.

The air hung heavy, not just with the scent of Abdul’s sweat (though that was undeniable), but with a strange tension I couldn’t quite place.

It felt almost indecent to watch a praying man in such a manner, and to pay attention to all these details on him. The mechanics of the prayer itself were a demonstration of submission and it was interesting to see a guy like Abdul performing it. There was the understanding that this was something that Abdul would ever only do for his God and no one else, which is what made it meaningful.

Once he was finished, he got up and stretched out, wearing a peaceful expression on his face. He caught me staring at him and I found myself blushing. The anger that I was feeling earlier from having my sleep rudely interrupted had melted away and I didn’t know what to say.

He bellowed happily, “Good Morning, my friend!” with a strong voice and an easy smile while I mumbled a lethargic response back. I guess he was a morning person and I was not, which wasn’t the only difference between us.  

I stayed on my bed as Abdul got himself ready for his first day at the construction job. He knew what classes he had to attend and had planned out his schedule so that he maintained the minimum academic standards to continue being enrolled in the student program while working most hours.

I drifted off to sleep and woke up a bit later by my alarm clock.

I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without stumbling over Abdul’s shoes and scattered things. His bed was left unmade and everything from the carpet to the bedframe was left in a slightly off-center position, as if Abdul had the same effect on the small room as an earthquake. Apparently, his self-discipline didn’t extend to house duties.

The bathroom was cramped and tiny and Abdul had left things in a mess without much consideration for my needs. While I brushed my teeth, I noticed my favorite towel missing from its correct position. I looked around and found it on the floor, adorned with a single unmistakable pubic hair on it.

I went to gather my laundry basket to empty it in a communal washing machine before there was a busy line, annoyed by the situation, and was shocked to find foreign objects amidst my clothes.

I picked the aforementioned items up by the tip of my fingers, not wanting to touch them at all and trying not to gag as I inspected them more closely. They were Abdul’s dirty clothes, among them being a pair of dirty socks and the sweaty underwear he’d been wearing that morning. That was the last straw.

As I seethed in anger, items in hand, the stench of his clothing hit my nose like a brick. It was a very intense smell.

Because of my inquisitive nature, I brought them closer to my face, careful not to contact the likely bio-hazard, and took another sniff. I still couldn’t identify everything I was smelling. There was the unmistakable stale musk of an Arab guy in there, but it felt like something more. My heart hammered in my chest, and a heat bloomed in my cheeks that had nothing to do with anger. I was getting aroused. Fuck my life.

I, of course, being of a scientific mind with a passion for knowledge, had to get to the bottom of this. Why did Abdul’s filthy clothes – the very antithesis of everything I found appealing – trigger such a reaction in me? First, I would characterize myself as asexual. In my life, I’ve been equally uninterested in both men and women. Abdul was just a manly jock in my eyes, which I looked down upon. This was a puzzle to be solved and an opportunity to advance my knowledge. The biological underpinnings of which would make perfect sense once I explored further.

With a grimace, I separated the underwear and socks from the rest (the two most pungent items on the list) and with a heavy heart but a determined mind prepared myself to smell them individually and ascertain the culprit of my stimulation.

Of course, these items being only relics of the smell and the smell being only a proxy of something else, this was far removed from the ideal testing conditions which would have to be conducted directly on Abdul’s unwashed body, with the experimental freedom granted to me to explore, smell and touch him everywhere while checking my responses against another volunteer with a less masculine disposition, all while wearing a blindfold. Thus, conducting a perfectly publishable single-blind trial (in theory). That is, granted, insanity and even I in my pursuit of knowledge and understanding wouldn’t go that far, not for any moral qualms, mind you, but more so because in Abdul’s culture the thought alone would be punishable by death. Alas, small minds limiting my scientific imagination, I had to settle with sniffing the underwear and socks in front of me, two items which were in direct and intimate contact with Abdul recently.

I began by picking up what looked to be the least gross item (the sock) and brought it close enough to my nose to smell. I was confused by the outcome. Instead of the disgust or revulsion I expected to experience, my heart began to race, and my penis twitched.

The smell was undeniably that of dirty feet, yet my body reacted in a way that defied logic. I then practically shoved my nose into the fabric, inhaling all the ripe smell Abdul’s socks contained in them, a strange craving developing in me.

My mind’s eye drifted to Abdul’s sleeping sprawled out form, my eyes traveling low past his hairy chest and abdomen, skipping the meaty bulge between his legs, towards his manly calves before settling on his dangling Arab foot. I gave my imagination free reign as I pictured myself sitting quietly on the floor by his bed and smelling his unwashed bare foot, wanting to feel his sole against my face but being too afraid of waking him up, salivating at the thought of his big toes in my mouth–I abruptly interrupted myself and threw the socks away in revulsion.

This was not right. Not in any moral or societal sense, I’m equally unfazed by taboo and populist opinion, don’t get me wrong, but this… wasn’t that. This response felt humiliating.

Nevertheless, I “forced” myself to move onto his underwear, which I believed would be worse due to the visible sweat from earlier today and intimate proximity to his genitals. To my dismay, my reaction was stronger. His crotch must have been soaked in sweat all day yesterday from travel, further built upon by his vigorous push-ups this morning, creating a unique, heady smell that seemed to call out to basic instincts that I didn’t know I had. The manly scent was overwhelming, but instead of repulsion, I felt desire.

My dick throbbed with need. With my eyes closed, I traveled to last night again, when I tried but failed to avoid looking at Abdul’s fat middle eastern bulge covered by the very fabric I was pressing against my face. Again, I let my imagination run wild as I pictured myself sneaking quietly on his bed, making my way between his splayed legs and pressing my face precariously against his only covered body part, feeling the shape of his member on my lips through his underwear, the size and warmth of his fat Arab balls against my mouth and cheeks while I snuggled between his hairy manly legs… Then I thought about this morning, when Abdul pressed his crotch inconsiderably against the floor on each push-up. I found myself wishing I was directly underneath him, my face providing a soft protective cushion for his dick and balls as they repeatedly suffocated me by draping over my face before temporarily giving me a moment to breath. I considered the possibility that his member might grow unexpectedly from this, and his hardened equipment might indeed slip out of his briefs, as a result of its size and the chaotic movements inherent in exercise, thus poking my face painfully on each rep, with its glistening head leaving red marks and a trail of precum on my face, while his heavy balls slapped me aggressively and covered me with smudges of sweat.

Abdul, of course, would be too focused on his push-ups and Muslim radio to notice what had happened and I would be forced to somehow accommodate the massive shaft, in order to save myself from unnecessary bruises, by opening my mouth and allowing his Arab erection to insert itself down my throat on each eccentric portion of the exercise, before sliding out on the concentric, saving me from needless pain and energizing the stud further, providing him with a second wind to complete his reps.

God, I was disgusted and turned on beyond belief. Out of self-respect I didn’t allow myself the relief of masturbation and opted for a cold shower. I was being hypnotized into a reverie of lust and need by the smell and fantasy of him alone. I needed to understand why. My “experiment” had only intensified the mystery rather than provided me with a clear answer.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was faced again with the mess Abdul had created in the room. Clothes were strewn everywhere like trash, his sneakers left discarded in the middle, creating a persistent funk around them, and this was only after less than a day of cohabitation!

Stewing wouldn’t help, so I grabbed a shirt (which smelled clean, so clearly it hadn’t touched Abdul’s body) and folded it with military precision before placing it in his drawer. I moved his filthy sneakers next to mine, inside by the door, before reconsidering and placing them outside the room. Next, I made Abdul’s bed, folding it to perfection and organized his desk.

I looked at my work with satisfaction, knowing that it will make him feel guilty and give him a clue to do his part from now on, without a need for confrontation. Then I noticed the time, grabbed my bag and dashed for my early class.

I spent most of the lecture preoccupied with thoughts of this new discovery about myself. A hypothesis popped into my mind, involving hermaphrodite animals that evolved the ability to effectively switch genders at the presence of a bigger, stronger male, thereby ensuring their survival by not competing (but instead, by getting fucked and carrying his babies, I guess). It irked me to think that something akin to that could be happening to me. I spent my whole life thinking I was asexual and evolved beyond such lowly needs only to find my sexuality “switching on” at the presence of a smelly Arab; but I dismissed the idea as a product of my anxiety. However, I couldn’t dismiss the facts – the intense unprecedented lust I felt when I put Abdul’s dirty laundry in my face.

After class was finished, it was already afternoon, and I had to head back to my dorm for a snack and to study in time for my evening class. I dreaded the prospect of seeing Abdul and getting turned on again, but I tried to push these thoughts away as I got to the door, only to have my worst fears realized.

Abdul had seemingly just come back from work, and he was in a state of undress as I entered the room. A heavy manly musk from working construction had fully replaced the clean smell of lavender from when I had left it. His filthy overalls were strewn on the floor, and I had to suppress an urge to pick them up. The shirt and underwear he still wore were so soaked in sweat that they clang on his skin and privates, hiding nothing.

I tried to make myself small and go by unnoticed. I could feel myself blushing and nearly having a panic attack. I was pathetic.

He smiled when he heard me enter, immediately thanking me for tidying up his things (which wasn’t the point) before asking me how my class was. He wasn’t embarrassed facing me, the thin fabric of his underwear (I guess his work rags) doing nothing to hide his meaty shaft from his audience. That, in combination with the friendly husky tone of his voice and gratitude for my “cleaning services” made me feel some kind of way.

He removed his shirt, stretching out his body and giving me a brief moment to glance at his package without being noticed. A sheen of sweat clung all over his exposed skin, highlighting his dark body hair and pumped muscles. His live odor was ten times stronger than the one I subjected myself to in the laundry, and, this time, my reaction was without a hint of disgust, but, instead, a Pavlovian response to his sexy musk had me horny and salivating immediately.

“Yes, hello.” I greeted him in a small voice before answering his non-question with my gaze defensively at the floor as I made my way to the safety of my corner, “It was a good introduction to calculus but I’m already familiar with the subject so it wasn’t very intere—“,  Abdul bent over and removed his socks as I was passing through (my eyes still glued to the floor were drawn by this motion and I became transfixed by the sight of his sweaty bare feet as I picked up an odor that quickly spread around the room). “Um, di-did you just come back from work? How was your day?” I asked him, mainly to avoid the awkwardness I was experiencing, my voice sounding higher and more nervous than I was meaning to.

I found myself getting drawn to his story as he spoke. His cousin had shown him the ropes and Abdul quickly proved himself, already having made himself useful, moving weight around effortlessly that would incapacitate others and showing an eagerness to do whatever was asked. He was a man and proud of it.

He also mentioned how he made new friends, which from the names and context I could gather were two white guys and a Mexican, all similar ages and dumb jock types that failed at school.

Abdul, clearly lacking modesty, continued talking to me as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweaty underwear and casually lowered them down, not interrupting his narration, as he exposed his fat hairy Arab cock and balls to me.

I looked away, immediately, appearing almost to have been offended by the sight, but the image of his thick flaccid member and heavy low hanging balls flopping out as they were released from constraint was etched permanently on my brain. His skin in that region had a darker tone that commanded attention. Even as I was looking away, I couldn’t not get a strong whiff of ball sweat that signaled a hardworking man.  Abdul, of course, wasn’t going to apologize for smelling like one.

From the periphery of my vision, I saw (and heard) him “slap” around his stuff and rearrange them to air them out more effectively.

I couldn’t stand it. Of course, I loved it, but I felt humiliated. I had to understand what was causing this reaction within me. It wasn’t normal. Was it pheromones? If so, it felt like I was exposed to a near lethal dose of them.

I tried to act normal at the presence of the nude Arab warrior in front of me but the sight was distracting.

Abdul said something, smiling, butt-naked, while picking up his dirty clothes off the floor and exposing his hairy crack to my virgin eyes just when I thought it was safe to look back. “Oh,” I said, trying to compose myself, “that’s good.”, not knowing what I was even responding to at this point but it seemed to fit what he said and he headed to the bathroom nodding.

I was feeling weak on my knees, my heart was pounding hard, and my dick was throbbing with need. There was no denying it. I was in heat. The hard reality was that I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at Abdul’s feet, to worship and please him no matter the consequences. I wanted to kill myself. I prayed to God, Allah, or whoever, that Abdul didn’t notice what was going on with me.

When he got out of the shower, he was still in the nude, again using my small towel to dry his large body, unashamed about it, not covering his heavy appendage which was flopping around obscenely with the erratic movements of getting himself dry.

He seemed so innocent about it all, not realizing the effect had on me, and I wasn’t going to tell him how to be comfortable in his living space. That he didn’t stress over nudity I attributed that to the fact that Abdul was a jock by nature, but, of course, that wasn’t an invitation for me to stare.

He told me some more stuff that happened today and that his friends would take him out tonight (I took note that he didn’t even consider asking me to join, even though I would have said no), all while bare-ass naked. I found myself wanting to keep asking him questions so my senses would continue to be assaulted by his bare presence, but I I didn’t want to expose myself. I got my phone and got the camera up, my face was getting red and betraying me. He was distracted, describing his day, more so I think to relive it himself than to inform me about it. My fingers moved to snap a photo, his naked frame on my screen was giving me a panic attack, what if he found out? Sadly, the point of the photo, to capture his dick, was a failure as his swinging mass was a total blur due to its motion.

I quickly got back to the camera and switched to video mode. I clicked record but before I had the chance to, Abdul had already dried himself and was putting on a pair of short shorts (no underwear underneath, I noted). I was relieved and frustrated.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence, Abdul chilled on his bed texting on his phone before drifting to sleep and snoring softly in the afternoon heat. From the way he was stretched out, wearing no underwear, his privates risked becoming public.

I sat on my bed with my face in my hands, trying to comprehend my feelings, and occasionally ogling my sleeping roommate. I hated myself for being an animal. For the first time in my life, I understood why men are animals, why they cannot control themselves in the presence of something they desire. It was terrifying.

My mind kept circling back to fantasies of submission and with Abdul’s big mass next to me it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. While he slept, his body looked open and relaxed in a way that was welcoming attention and I found myself returning to some not so innocent thoughts. Thankfully, before I was tempted to explore these ideas further, Abdul’s phone rang, and he woke up.

He spoke lively with someone in Farsi (his cousin, I guess) and I found it really hot listening to him speak in his native tongue. I think I was falling in love with him at this point.

[To be continued]

I just wanted to reiterate that I’m not gay.

I just…somehow ended up getting seduced by my son’s 19 year old friend.

I’m George. I’m 52 years old, I’ve got gray eyes and balding salt+pepper hair, 6’2″ tall and about 230–pretty much a dad bod, with muscles covered by a little bit of home-cooking (if you know what I mean). I played football and basketball in high school, but my work pretty much keeps me in shape.

I’m also a Man’s man…

No, not like that… but, I’m a SportsCenter watching, hunting, camping kind of guy.

In part one of this series I walked you through the “happy ending” massage I ended up getting.

That fucked me up. I really didn’t know that the massage parlor was a dirty, happy ending, kind of massage parlor.

Maybe a week later while sitting on the sofa watching the local news with the fam, I saw their place had been shut down for human trafficking, tax evasion, and other stuff. Guess I dodged a bullet there.

I dodged one bullet, but there was another coming right at me.

There I was, a 52 year-old man in a loveless, sexless marriage with my obese wife, Charlotte.

Charlotte had absolutely no sex drive.

No sex.

No fingering.

No blow jobs.

Hell, at that point I’d go for a handjob similar to the one I’d gotten at the massage parlor every now and then.

My four sons were aged 18-32 at the time. The older ones were out of the house, but our youngest still stayed at home and was a daddy’s boy.

Chase did everything with me. If I was watching the game, Chase was watching the game. If I was working on the truck, Chase was working on the truck.

He also kept a group of guys around him all the time since high school. Chase wasn’t the most popular guy at school, but he was friendly enough and very involved with activities and stuff.

As time went on, Charlotte and I would mess up the mood as they played Call of Duty in the den with our occasional arguments…

Well, we didn’t actually argue.

Arguments happen between at least two people– Charlotte just bitched a lot.

While there was a revolving door of 18-23 year-olds coming in and out of the house, there were two that were around the most–Carlos and Carlito– two 18 year-old twin brothers who spoke both English and Spanish… Spanish when they wanted to communicate privately.

For Chase’s birthday in December, he said he’d wanted to go camping with his bros.

His birthday rolled around and at the party Charlotte had printed out the Airbnb info and had it wrapped with camping gear as one of the gifts.

As he opened it and shifted through the paperwork he seemed a bit underwhelmed. I was about to get on his ass about it until he passed the print out to me as well…

This wasn’t a camping trip at all.

A camping trip is a cabin out in the middle of nowhere.

Charlotte had booked a “Glamping cabin”…essentially a regular home complete with plumbing, wifi, a pool, air conditioning, etc.

I pulled him to the side and told him not to worry, I’d fix it. I told him to enjoy the rest of the party and not to say anything to his mom about it because I knew what would happen.

The rest of the party went off without problem– Charlotte, myself, and the rest of the family left the house to Chase and his friends.

I’m pretty sure there was drinking and other foolishness, but hey, what are 18-23 year olds supposed to do at that age.

The next day on my break at work (I worked at an amazon warehouse) i skimmed through the sites for state parks and more rugged, authentic camping experiences.

I found one!

This was a 4-bedroom cabin out near Big Bend National Park.

The ad read:

“​​Big Bend National Park is in southwest Texas and includes the entire Chisos mountain range and a large swath of the Chihuahuan Desert. The Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive leads to the ruins of Sam Nail Ranch, now home to desert wildlife. The Santa Elena Canyon, carved by the Rio Grande, features steep limestone cliffs. Langford Hot Springs, near the Mexican border, has pictographs and the foundations of an old bathhouse.”

PERFECT, I thought!

A four bedroom would surely hold at least 10 people–assuming there’s a living room sofa or pullout bed.

I went ahead and put a deposit down and texted Chase the details so we could plan it out.

Initially, I thought about explaining the whole ordeal to Charlotte, but, considering she wasn’t planning to go in the first place, I just canceled the other by calling the card company and booked the 4-bedroom at Big Bend.

The next two weeks leading up to the trip Chase was super excited. This was going to be a few days away from the hustle and bustle of dealing with school, work, and everything else.

Things got pretty tense around Christmas, so I was looking forward to getting away as well.

I’m also glad we opted for a real camping experience. It was surprisingly cold the first week of January for Texas, but it’s like I always say “Drive slow and steady, and you’ll have no problems.”

The 10 of us loaded up in my Ford Excursion and headed to Big Bend. There was myself and Chase, of course, the twins Carlos and Carlito, and a few other friends.

It was a little over 8 hours, but we made it!

We only stopped twice to fuel up and get snacks.

Along the way, the conversations got pretty interesting. This new generation is more fluid and free than ever before. We didn’t talk about sex and stuff in front of adults, nor were we as open to including gay friends in our friend groups.

I mean, I’m not a homophobe or anything, I’ve just never had gay friends like that.

Along the way there was play like ass-slapping, and one situation where they kept pointing out one guy, Trevor, having a “bubble butt.”

These youngsters were wild!

“Gyatt!” one of the boys exclaimed before slapping Trevor’s ass as he climbed in the truck.

“You don’t have to be nervous, George, you got a Gyatt your damn self,” another yelled playfully.

Eventually we got to the campgrounds and pulled into the registration lot.

The lady up front let us know we were lucky because they were just about to close, and that they’d be closed for the weekend until Sunday evening for checkouts. She gave us two keys and pointed us in the direction of the cabin.

We drove through the campgrounds eventually getting to our cabin which seemed much smaller from the looks of it.

Wayyyyy smaller.

As we walked up and opened the door my jaw dropped.

There were 4 beds in the cabin.

No, not 4 BEDROOMS as I’d assumed, but literally 4 beds.

There were 10 of us.

I rushed back to the registration office to see if we could get another cabin or two. I was worried I’d miss them since we’d barely made it as they were closing.

As I pulled back into the parking lot I saw light and the shadow of one of the workers in the registration cabin.

“Oh thank God I caught you,” I said.

“We need at least one other cabin, I didn’t know there were only 4 beds,” I continued.

“Another one that can’t read,” the lady chuckled. She went on to say that they were booked solid for the weekend.

Chase and the boys were pretty cool about it. A few folks had sleeping bags, so 4 would sleep in the beds, the rest on the floor. No big deal.

For the rest of the first day it was pretty cool. They played music and unpacked while I made a campfire and put some sausage links on for dinner.

It was cold AF…

Like REALLY cold… and the sun was still going down.

And that’s when Trevor made things uncomfortable.

About 30 minutes or so into dinner, I look over and Carlos is performing fellatio on one of the sausage links to make the rest of the crew laugh. This guy is sliding this sausage all the way in his mouth, down his throat, and back up without gagging in the least…

I mean, times have changed.

Anyway, right after that we lost power… and apparently wifi as well. I’m guessing since we’re in the middle of nowhere, they probably had a special router just for the campgrounds.

We continued to party, play cards, and drink until about 11pm when the excruciating cold made it impossible to do anything else other than get to bed.

4 of us took the beds while the rest set up on the floor.

Since I was the old man of the group, I got one of the beds, but the comforter was super thin and it did nothing for the cold. The bed was also apparently for smaller people–not my 6’2, 230 lb frame.

Also, there wasn’t enough room on the floor for everyone to spread out.

We eventually figured it out. The folks with the sleeping bags slept on the bed frames since they had springs.

The rest of us took the mattresses and slept on the floor. It was pretty tight, but it worked.

Everyone layered up with sweatpants and got to bed.

I’d fallen asleep but woke up about 1:30 am to someone snuggling up against my front–basically being the little spoon.

It was basically pitch black and silent, with the exception of the light snores from the bros sleeping.

I didn’t think anything of it, in fact, whoever it was up against me was creating more body heat.

I drifted off to sleep.

About 30 minutes or so later, I woke up with a hardon…and apparently my dick had slipped out of the front of my pajama pants… damn, i should not have been freeballing tonight.

Keeping my eyes closed and not making any sudden moves I just laid there…pretending to be asleep.

That’s when it happened.

The warm hand of whoever was my “little spoon” reached around and grabbed my dick and bringing it between their tight-gripping, smooth, hairless, firm thighs– easing it between their muscled glutes.

I shuddered.

Releasing the hand only to bring it to their mouth and spit on it, they took their smooth spit-filled hand and lathered up my throbbing cock bringing it back to the warm, wet, viscus confines of their teen, athletic ass…

Then they started grinding up against me–pushing that firm ass up against my sex-deprived babymaker…

I was throbbing so hard… trying not to make too much noise…

Not only because I didn’t want whoever this was to stop, but also because we were in a room with 8 other people–who were asleep–but still…

None of them would probably realize the nastiness that was occurring under that comforter on the floor in the depth of night.

I wanted this so bad.

I needed this so fucking bad.

I quietly rolled over on top of whoever this was… he cooed.

He arched his back, giving me full access under the covers.

As quietly as I could, I picked up the pace.

I hadn’t fucked anything in so long.

He started moaning… whoever he was…

I leaned over him and put my hand over his mouth–muffling him as I picked up the pace.

I humped him like a teenager fucking for the first time.

I was pumping all my pent up stress and sexual frustration as he spread his thighs almost doing the splits as I pummeled him.

His ass walls were gripping my dick so tightly…

He was so soft and warm…

“Fuck me George, fuck me man…”he moaned.

I reached up and pulled his hair, causing him to moan again–I covered his mouth as I went for the final round.

I drove into him, quietly, yet rough like an animal… breathing into his ear–biting his earlobe before a sharp chill came over me…

I’d collapsed on top of him.

It was as if I’d passed out.

I was convulsing–shooting my ropes into his warm, tight hole.

I was out of breath, but trying not to make any noise. I couldn’t wake anyone.

I remained on his back… my penis softening, still inside of him.

I rolled over onto my back.

As I did I heard the familiar “plop” of my dick plopping out of a tight hole–this time an ass…

As I did, with the room being light only by the moon, I realized it was Trevor, the bubble butt friend.

He leaned over across my waste and sucked my dick clean, sucking the remaining baby batter from my love stick.

As I turned over to go to sleep I could see the familiar sight of masturbation from one of the bros on the bed on the other side of the room.

I tried to look in his direction without him realizing I’d seen him.

Faster, and faster, he stroked before he grunted…

He saw everything…

---

Now I wanted to know who it was jacking off to my forbidden love session.

Wow, this was fun to write.

Would love your feedback.

In the last episode Joseph, the sexy hot medical doctor, dominated his lover Naughty Eric as Eric begged for more and more. Joseph wildly fucked Eric’s blond hairless man puckering pussy as Eric begged for more. Cum was shot everywhere that night in the Miami hotel as Joseph too charge as they sucked, rimmed, ate sweet protein cum and fucked all night.

We hope you will enjoy and join this scene as Eric takes charge of Joseph during their second night in Miami resulting in wild, rough, and intense man sex as they empty their nuts of thick white man creamy cum several times throughout the long night. 

HERE IS THE NIGHT’S STORY

During the day on Friday, Joseph and I spend most of the day at the beach wearing only very scanty shorts and tennis shoes soaking up the sun while lying on large beach towels with sun glasses watching very thin clad young beach goers. We are constantly horny and of great need to make love again this evening.  A lot of gay guys give us very obvious looks as our shorts do not hide much of our big junks. It is too obvious as Joseph and I play footies and from time to time kiss causing our cocks to be stiff much of the time–we are almost having public sex that is so exciting. Joseph’s big 8 inch cock is not very well hidden on those thight shorts creating many long looks from lots of beach goers especially horny gay dudes. I am counting my blessings that Joseph is mine. I am actually so turned on that during the day I have spilled some precum that has the front of my shorts with wet circles causing such pleasure and fun for Joseph. Around noon as we ordered hot dogs at a stand from a young guy no older than 19 who could not take his seductive eyes off my wet crotch. I actually see his bulge begin to grow inn his shorts as he smiles at me and says: “Hey dude, you seems to be enjoying yourself” as Joseph lets out a huge laugh and says: “Hey dude, you have no idea how much my buddy is enjoying this week”: oh holy shit Joesph grabs his big bulge and rubs it hard. The young dude’s face turns blood red as we pay, and as we walk away Joesph grabs my ass cheeks and laughs as he says to me: “Eric we just made that young dude horny as hell. I bet he will go home and masturbate dreaming of us. Wow that was fun.” 

We go home and shower and go out to a five star Italian restaurant for a great meal including very expensive imported wine that makes us somewhat tipsy and of course very horny for each other. I am on top of the world every time Joseph and I get together for amazing sex. WOW JOSEPH IS AN INCREDIBLE FUCK BUDDY.  I always have my best earth shaking orgasms when with Joseph, a real man’s man with the most man meat ever. 

We get back to our hotel around 9:00 P.M. and as we rip off all our clothes, I grab sexy naked Joseph in a tight hug and we begin to hump as our diamond hard cocks rub against each other spewing gobs of precum on each other and on our pubic hairs and crotches. The feeling smells all that precum has us in a state of animalistic lust—oh what such amazing feelings of lust and desire for hot man on man sex.

I then grab Joseph on both sides of his face with my hands and look into his gorgeous seductive green eyes with my sky blue eyes as we feel each other’s wet cock pulsating as the cocks are locked together and say: “Baby it is my turn to take charge tonight and I want you to let me make you my babe tonight.”

“OH FUCK YEA ERIC USE ME TONIGHT, LET ME BE YOURS AND YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME. I AM SO HORNY FOR YOU, PEASE MAKE ME CUM OVER AND OVER. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH YOU.”

“Ok Joseph babe, get on the bed on your back and stretch out your arms and legs. I am going to tie your arms and feet and then begin to service your entire body.”

As Joseph’s beautiful naked hard 190 pounds lies there tied up with his blood filed 8 inch uncut cock standing at attention and pulsating leaking precum with that mushroom head wet and slick with his piss slit peaking out of that cock hood I have never been more aroused and wanting a man. He is the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen and yes he is all mine tonight. My cock is beating hard with my cock head shinny from the leaking precum and I have shivers running up and down my spine as I get upon the bed. I begin kissing and spitting gobs of salvia in his throat as we start French kissing with our tongues battling for position. Oh Fuck he smell and taste so good. Joseph is beyond hot and manly. I lie down on top of those 190pounds as we kiss and our cocks are once again rubbing together. As we begin to sweat and we feel that warm flesh on flesh we moan and our breathing becomes rapid. Overcome with lust and desire to taste his entire body and make him want me in. away like no one ever before, I begin to kiss and lick first his face, ears, neck, his chest, spend lots of time sucking and licking his hair covered underarms enjoying his smell and sweet, next I take lots of  time licking and sucking his big hard nipples as if I am a baby sucking mother’s breasts for milk before I go down on his abs and stomach until I reach his thick warm thighs (mmm this is so hot and the taste of those thighs are incredible until kit art time to service that beating  rock hard cock. I kiss that cock head as his cock comes out of that uncut hood as he spews precum on my warm tongue.

I now begin my cock sucking of that huge hard beating cock. I slowly take that manhood down my throat as I use my tongue to run it around and underside of that red hot cock shaft using one hand to hold the base of that cock pulsating in my hand and use the other hand to play with his red hot balls full of his creamy cum needing release. 

Joseph is unable to use his tied hands or feet as I service his whole body driving him wild with lust for me as he thrust his body up as much as he can and he is begging me: “OH FUCK ERIC, OH FUCK ERIC, PLEASE USE ME, SUCK MY COCK, SUCK MY DAMN BALLS AND PLEASE EAT MY ASS. OH I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME, FUCK ME PLEASE, GIVE ME THAT BEAUTIFUL MAN COCK, I WANT TO FEEL YOU DEEP INSIDE MY PUSSY, PLEASE BRED ME, I WANT TO FEEL YOUR WARM CUM DEEP IN ME, FUCK ME RAW. PLEASE UNTIE ME SO I CAN TOUCH YOU. I NEED TO GET FUCKED AS I HOLD THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD AS YOU DRIVE THAT BIG COCK DEEP IN ME. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE I WANT TO TOUCH YOU.”

Now that I have Joseph so wild with lust and desire, I untie him and we get into a 69 as we go wild sucking each other’s blood filled cock for the longest time. MMMM the smell and taste of those cocks in each other’s mouth is beyond ecstasy. Then we begin to finger each other’s wet ass and start eating out those two puckering assholes for the longest time. Soon we use our fingers to locate each other’s prostate and go crazy massaging those sensitive G-Spots with our wet fingers, oh fuck the feeling is beyond description in pleasure. 

Then overcome with such wild lust we begin to rim each other’s ass as we lick and suck driving our tongues deep as we can into those puckering eager asses. These asses are eager to get a raw cock deep inside those experienced pussies.

After very long ass eating, I have Joseph get on his stomach and spread his legs and feet wide giving me a clear access to his big ass, I get between his legs and take my beating cock and begin to rub it up and down his ass crack and even up his back driving him wild with lust for my cock deep in him but I continue to use my cock to play with his ass crack and just the tip of my cock at his ass entrance driving him wild begging me to: “OH FUCK ERIC, PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE DON’T TEASE ME, OH I NEED YOUR COCK IN ME, PLEASE CUM IN ME, PLEASE, PLEASE, BRED ME.”

Joseph and I both have clean asses and we are on PreP so we can have raw sex, Dr. Joseph knows how to keep us safe.

I start to drive my diamond hard cock in his ass as I feel his sphincter open up as he uses his ass to suck my cock deeper and deeper into his pussy. Soon I am balls deep in that amazing ass where my cock has been before, wow he is so experienced on using his ass muscles to squeeze my cock as I pound his ass. We both have raging hormones and testosterone as we make love. I feel my balls rubbing against his balls as I fuck him harder and harder. “Oh fuck Eric, fuck me harder, drive that damn cock deep in me, cum in me.” 

I take my body down on his back and fuck him as I suck on his neck. Wow the feel of our sweaty bodies together as I fuck him has our hormones go even wilder as we moan, grunt and breathing harder and harder. I use my cock to drive the head into his prostate over and over and run my cock all around that ass tunnel and ass walls as Joseph uses his ass muscles to squeeze my cock hard and harder until I cannot last any longer. I partially pull my cock out and give one mighty hard thrust as my cock head swells and I explode with blast after blast of semen deep in my lover Joseph’s pussy. As my cock softens, I pull out of that cum filled ass as my cum runs out of that ass and down his legs. I use my hands to collect part of my cum and feed it to Joseph who loves my seed.

Then I get a big surprise as Joesph is filled with lust and needs to cum. He uses his strong body to pick me up and place me on the bed on my back. He lifts my feet and legs upon my chest, he gets down and begins to lick  and suck on my amazing spot of my scrotum driving me insane to actually causing me to begin stiffening my cock again, he eats my scrotum for the longest time until I beg him: “OH FUCK JOSPEH, PLEASE FUCK ME AND GIVE ME YOUR SEED.”

I see him lube his cock as I had done earlier to my cock before fucking him. He also lubes my ass driving that lube deep in my ass and then I feel his giant cock  open my ass as he slowly drives all 8 inches all the way in my pussy and he then begins to fuck me rough and long as I  am consumed with pure lust and pleasure for him and his cock. Oh how I wish we could be together every day and let him fuck me every day. Man the feel of that fresh meat deep in me is the most amazing pleasure ever. I  thrust my hips up to meet his cock as he fucks me with our eyes locked together in pure lust. Soon I feel his cock head swell, I see that amazing look on his beautiful sexy face that sends the message he is about to come (the look of sex on a guy’s face when he is about to come is the most beautiful sight ever). He calls out, “OH MY GOD ERIC I AM GOING TO COME, I AM ABOUT TO COME, HERE IT IS BABY.”

That was it as I feel shots of cum fill my ass, wow the feel of his warm cum deep in me is so amazing, wow that is the best feeling and smell. Soon Joseph pulls out and I suck his cock clean enjoying the taste of his sweet cum, mmmmm.

We shower and have a beer and then get ready to watch a hot gay porn video of some of our favorite gay porn stars until we are ready for more fucking. Joseph and I are real sex addicts in the best way.

MORE LATER OF OUR FUCK SESSIONS!!!!! WE ARE SO HORNY ALL THE TIME WHEN WE ARE TOGETHER!!!!!!

The Shepherds were enticed to go to a hot spring of sorts.  Though they have never been before, the thought of healing and hot waters is quite the tempting offer after so many battles under their belts.  Though the decision to go was Chrom’s, Robin may have had played a part in influencing the young Lord’s decision to treat the Shepherds to a moment of respite.

…well that is until they found out the hot springs are infested with the Risen.

On the steaming battlefield, Priam, the supposed descendent of the Radiant Hero, and Walhart, the Valm Conqueror, clash their weapons together.  Allies, they may be, the aura of strength and vigor brims between them as they smirk at each other.  Their joyous energy of battling one another can be confused with the deadly bloodlust that the two seem to share.

“The strong are drawn to the strong!” Priam says proudly, hands gripping his blade tightly.  Sweat falls down his brow as he composes his breaths.

“Now, come and break that mighty upon me,” Walhart responds with a smug smirk that belies his suffocating aura.  A sheen of sweat covers his skin and wallows within his thick set of armor.

Interrupting their fight is a soldier of the Shepherds who cries out, “Risen!”

With looks of disappointment, the two separate as duty calls for their strength and power.  The hopes to satiate their needs for a powerful opponent must be put on hold…

After the Shepherds were able to take care of the Risen, the entire army is able to take their much deserved and needed relaxation time.  Steeping in the hot waters that sparkle and glitter like stars.  Shared laughter, drinks, and conversation of joy and fun.  This is what the Shepherds needed.

Far from the rest of the Shepherds are strong masculine grunts.  “Come now Priam, is that all you got?  Perhaps I overestimated you.”

“Ha!  I got more in me, just you see,” Priam smirks.  His strong, muscular arms push apart Walhart’s legs.  He drives his hips in and out of Walhart’s tight muscular ass.  The sounds of the hot spring water splashing against his skin and the stone edges of the hot spring reverberate around them.  Priam’s large cock fills up Walhart’s hole, being hugged by the Conqueror’s incredible flesh.

Almost brimming with a blue flame, Priam’s eagerness and fervor grows exponentially as Walhart’s goading words practically taunt him.  Priam vigorously thrusts into Walhart, a smile on his face, but a determination of a warrior above all else.  Each thrust hits Walhart’s prostate with great accuracy.  Though he may not show it, Walhart’s pleasure is increasing by the thrust, his own large cock standing hard and firm with precum leaking all over his stomach.

“Look at that, looks like you’re really liking this o’ great Conqueror,” Priam sneers.

“I would be enjoying much more if you would silence that mouth of yours, or would you like for me to silence it for you?” Walhart comments.  He takes his large hand and grabs a hold of Priam’s hair and forcibly moves the Radiant Hero’s head down onto his cock.  The Radiant Hero’s body bends forward, his mouth welcoming the Conqueror’s large leaking cock.

As he thrusts, Priam is sucking at Walhart’s large cock with Walhart gripping his hair tightly and guiding him.  The taste of Walhart’s cock is indescribable, it’s salty and bitter, yet so energizing and invigorating, almost as if it’s some sort of warrior’s elixir.

Walhart’s guttural groans of pleasure almost emit his own suffocating aura that almost takes out the air around him.  His body trembles as Priam’s mouth and thrusts work together to bring him to the edge.  Priam’s own fiery heat almost outmatches the water he stands in, making his mouth and cock surge with such hotness that increases the pleasurable forces between the two.

Walhart’s body suddenly stiffens, his grip on Priam’s hair tightening as he releases a low moan, his cock twitching in Priam’s mouth.  Priam continues to suck and thrust, tempted to continue until the very end, to savor the taste of the Conqueror’s seed.  The taste of his own victory gushes inside his mouth as Priam is able to taste Walhart’s delicious and revitalizing sperm that Priam promptly gulps down without thought.  Concurrently, Priam’s own aching cock throbs and twitches violently.  Priam’s moans are muffled by Walhart’s mouthful of a cock as he releases his own seed into the Conqueror’s tight hole.

Walhart releases Priam and Priam slowly eases his wet cock out of Walhart.  The two pant, catching their breaths evident by the heaving chests.  Walhart’s lips curl into a smirk as he says, “You know Priam, you’re not the only one here who enjoys a good challenge.”

Walhart stands up and slaps his saliva and cum covered cock against Priams’ cheek.  Walhart’s largeness and thickness is so heavy that every slap feels like a punch.  Priam smirks, responding, “Two challengers trying to best one another, that sounds like a good competition to me.”  Priam’s mouth returns back to Walhart’s cock that quickly hardens within his mouth.

Stepping into the hot spring waters, Walhart pushes Priam’s chest onto the stone.  Priam takes his hands and spreads apart his muscular cheeks to show off his puckered hole, wiggling a bit just to tease and entice the Conqueror.  Walhart slaps his heavy cock against Priam’s tight hole, playing with it before he probes the tip of his cock against Priam’s welcoming hole.  Walhart pushes the head of his cock into Priam, both of them groaning.  Priam’s tightness is comparable to the Conqueror’s.  Walhart’s large cock stretches Priam out and without question, Walhart’s largeness is the biggest Priam has ever taken before.  Walhart shoves the rest of his cock inside of Priam, without an ounce of concern.  He bucks his hips, thrusting his cock into Priam.

Priam’s own re-hardened cock swings up and down like a pendulum, slapping against his hard abs.  He can feel his own precum oozing out of his cock and mixing with the purifying minerals of the hot spring.  The echoing cacophony of splashing water and muffling groans fills the air.  Their bodies move in an odd unison, a harmony of strength and lust/

They begin to fight each other with every thrust.  Their arms and legs intertwine as they push and pull each other, their bodies locked in an intense battle for dominance.  Each breath is a struggle, each movement a test of endurance and willpower.  Their smirks of enjoyment and grit spurs the other to take further control of the situation.  Priam tightens his hole so much that Walhart has a bit of difficulty thrusting, meanwhile Walhart’s strong arms pull at Priam’s long hair almost to a painful intensity.  However, both are warriors first and foremost and the pain is just added pleasure for both of them.

The two warriors slam their bodies against each other, the water around them splashing fiercely, the intense heat of the hot spring seeming to fuel their own passionate primal battle.  Their deep growls and groans fill the air, punctuated by the exertion of effort as they attempt to overpower the other.  Their faces are a mixture of exhilaration and sheer will, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of dominance.  The thrusts are relentless as well as the vice grip of Priam’s hole.

Priam arches his back which gives Walhart the perfect opportunity to wrap his large hands around the Radiant Hero’s neck.  Much like his aura, Walhart’s fingers tightly wrap around Priam’s neck to choke him.  Priam smiles as he struggles for breath, he expertly manipulates his anal walls to massage and squeeze Walhart’s cock like a sensual massage.  The two are combatting each other in their own separate ways that fuels the other to try even harder and harder.

Just at the moment of seeing the dark vignette in his vision, Priam’s tightness finally pushes Walhart over the edge.  Walhart’s hot thick conquering cum gushes into Priam’s tight hole, filling up the Radiant Hero.  Priam’s flailing cock explodes with voluminous radiant cum that splashes into the hot spring water.

The two catch their breaths again.  As they slowly separate their bodies from one another and take a seat in the hot spring, they stare at each other with grins believing that they have bested the other.

Who was the winner of this primal battle?  No one can be sure…but that only means that Priam and Walhart will duel each other again with their mighty blades ready.

Christopher

(THIS IS ALL CONSENSUAL)

Hi, my name is Christopher, I’m 18 and going to be 8 in about 3 months. I’m 5.8, short for my age but I make up for it with my masculine body, and my 10-inch dick, I’m bisexual but I have never fucked any dudes I’ve just known I was bisexual since I was in the 6th grade because I beat to gay porn and would love to fuck a fat-assed twink in his tight hole. People at school think that I’m less outgoing because I don’t talk as much but that’s just not the case at all I have a body count of 8 (all women) and I can be aggressive, I’m just less outgoing in school.

MATTHEW

 Matthew and I are both the same age, but he’s 12 days older than me. He’s mixed and stands at 5’10”, and we’re friends. Matthew has light brown eyes and pink lips, with curly ginger hair. Although he doesn’t work out as much as I do, he has a slim, masculine body. While we’re good friends, we do have our differences. When Matthew is angry, he can become aggressive towards me, pushing and punching me, sometimes very hard. I defend myself at times, but usually, I let him have his way since I don’t want to fight with my friends. Despite this, Matthew is a pretty good guy and chill to hang out with when he’s not angry.

We were in the 3rd-period gym and playing basketball. Matthew kept getting crossed up and looking like an idiot as I was making every single damn point. Matthew has always been terrible at basketball and every time we would play he would practically get demolished, he would rage every time he lost because he just wasn’t as good as me but today was different. By the time we started rapping up in the gym and getting ready to go to 4th period, he told me to go in the locker room with him, I didn’t know what it was for but I went anyways expecting him to pull some slick shit. When we were in there I looked at him and I saw his eyes were bloodshot red, I could tell he wanted to punch me so I told him to calm down, it was a stupid game anyway and I was tired of him always getting mad but he didn’t care he shoved me against the lockers and by that point, I had had enough of his bullshit so I got him quick and punched him in his stomach then watched him fall on the floor like a punk. I never realized how much of a bitch Matthew was until this moment, watching him on the floor grabbing his stomach made me realize that Matthew wasn’t shit to be afraid of. I didn’t realize until a minute over standing over him and watching him groan about his chest pain that I was hard. I was so confused and aroused at the same time, how the hell am I hard? I asked myself as the sensation became greater and greater. I caught him staring at my pants because I guess my dick is so big it’s hard to not notice. Looking at him on the floor like that and him looking like a bitch made me want to fuck him.

I squatted down toward his face and squinched my eyes. Looking at the sweat on his face, his lips were so hot and turned me on. I then grabbed his chin and kissed him on the lip. He didn’t have any reaction I couldn’t tell if he was into it or just thrown off and confused, we’ve been friends for a while so I figured he already caught on to the fact that I was bisexual. I then got up and looked down at him and pulled down my shorts to where only my boxers were showing and my huge cock was more apparent he was on his knees at that point and I told him “I want you to suck it bitch!” he didn’t say a word. He was still looking straight at my boxers astounded by the size, and then he reached his hands out and started pulling my boxers down slowly. When he finally got it down to my feet “Mmmm.” he said as he looked at my 10-inch-long demon “What are your thoughts?” I asked, he was speechless and all he could do at that point was grab my cock. He started slurping it and making loud moans, hearing the slurping and moaning turned me on “Damn nigga.” I groaned. He continued this for about 6 good minutes, each time the slurp got more intense and each Moan got louder “fuck.” I  groaned out, I could feel him licking pre-cum. He was good, taking in 7 inches of my cock, only six minutes in and already doing better than most women I’ve fucked. Suddenly he stopped, having my wet now fully hard cock in his hands he looked up at me and as if I read his mind I took off my shirt and threw it to the floor.

He moaned at the smell of the aroma, I could tell he was enjoying it and that just made me want to fuck his brains out. He continues sucking for another two minutes until finally, It hit me that if he kept sucking I would cum before I even get the full enjoyment. I then pull my hard and wet 10-inch dick out of his hot and steamy mouth “Your turn to pull down your pants.” I told him. I could tell he wanted it badly as he got up immediately and pulled his pants down then slightly bent over and poked his fat juicy bubble butt out then slapped it “It’s yours.” he said. He was so submissive, it was hardly even believable that I was in this situation. But it didn’t matter, I had a hot fat-assed submissive twink to fuck. “What are you waiting for?” he asked “For you to beg.” at this point, I could tell it was starting to get to him that I wanted to make him my bitch and he was reluctant “Say it nigga!” “Eat my ass, Chris” “Nah, say it like you want it! say it like the slut you are!” “Eat my ass, Daddy!” I felt pre-cum dripping from my cock, he knew exactly what I wanted to hear, I could feel the pure control I had over him at that moment and it felt great. I walked over to him and then got on my knees his slim masculine body but thick juicy ass was such an astounding sight. I separated his sweaty ass cheeks, I was surprised there were no ass hairs I then started licking his tight ass hole and spitting in it. I moved my tongue up and started pressing on the inside of his hole “Ooooh.” he moaned. I started to suck and spit harder, the aroma coming from his ass was so hot and pulled me in. I then started fingering him slowly “Oh fuck!, Daddy!” I couldn’t stop, his moans of pleasure were too addictive, I wanted him to be deeply pulled in.

I continued to mouth fuck his tight steamy hole for another 4 minutes, each moan longer and louder than the last. At this point I knew that I had him, I knew he was ready. My dick was extremely hard and wet from spit and pre-cum, licked his ass one more time then slowly got up caressing his fat ass, and up to his back. He was still leaning over as he was, then I got up on his back with my long, big dick in between and rubbed against his ass cheeks leaned along with him, and started kissing and sucking on his neck “I love you nigga.” I said as I continued kissing his neck, his moaning and high-mouth breathing got me carried away. “You want this dick nigga?.” “Yes Daddy.” still moaning and drowning in ecstasy, I felt his ass sweat dripping on my dick, his legs trembling and shaking. I wanted to fuck him so bad but I wanted to hear him say it, I wanted to hear him tell me he wanted it. “Say it like you mean it bitch!.” “I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME SENSELESS WITH YOUR LONG 10-INCH COCK!” I couldn’t resist, he was my bitch now and I wanted to reward him. His hole was gapping and my dick was fully erect between his legs and got off of him so that I could insert my dick in his ass. His tight hole was sticking out and practically begging for my cock, I stuck the tip of my hard dick in his hole and he was already moaning. I continued to feed his ass all 10-inches of me “Oooh, Daddy!” Matthew kept moaning “Mmm, good little slut.” His ass was nice and tight on my cock. I started fucking in his ass nice and slowly just to give him time to adjust to my cock “Oooh, Fuck!” I could tell it was big for him but he was still taking it good “Do you want me to stop nigga?” “No Daddy.” he moaned.

After about 4 minutes of me fucking his ass slowly with him leaning up on the locker and his ass sticking out I wanted to start fucking him. I slowly pulled my fat long dick out of his tight gaping ass, then I told him to get on the floor in doggy style “Yes Daddy.”  Matthew responded. My cock got even harder, hearing him be a submissive bitch and call me daddy made me want to fuck him even harder. He got onto the locker room floor on all fours with his ass stuck upward elbows in front of him, I could tell he was ready for me to fuck him like he said he wanted it “fuck me good.” Matthew said and I intended to do just that, I squatted down so that I could inject my dick into his heavenly ass. “Mmm, yes.” instead of being a heavy moan it was a lighter moan this time, a moan of genuine pleasure, his ass got used to my dick just like I wanted it to. I started fucking him harder than I was before and picking up more speed “Clap” “Clap” “Ah!, Ahhhh, Ahhhhh, Daddy!.. Fuuck!” I started to lose restraint, I didn’t want to have restraint anymore. I started to grab him by his neck and pull his body up a little bit and yet more aggressive with each stroke “Ahh! O..Oh!..Aghh!, Fuck nigga!” “Mmm, good fucking slut bitch! Dis Bussy is so fucking tight! Ughhh!” I grabbed him by his arm and started pulling him by his curly ginger hair. “Clap” “Clap” “Slap” “Clap” “Oh Ooh! FUCK!, YOUR ASS IS SO FUCKING TIGHT NIGGA!” “Clap” “Clap” “Ahhh!..Ooooooh! Chris, Fucking my brains nigga!” “YOUR MOANS, SHIT NIGGA IM FINNA BUST!” “ME TOO!, FUCK!” “OoOOoOoOH! GOOD FUCKING SLUT!, TAKE MY CUM! OH SHIT!” “FUCK DADDY!, Oooooh!” and I shot my cum load right in his tight ass, I fucked him so good he had busted without even touching his dick.

We were on the locker room floor and I started to kiss his hot neck I was so proud of him for taking all of me to the ass. I got off and saw the cum plopping out of Matthews’s hole it was so hot, but  I then looked down and I realized that I was still semi-erect “Matthew I have another nut for you nigga.” “Mmm,” Matthew replied I down on my back with my cock now almost fully sticking up, he grabbed it and didn’t waste any time. He went up and down on it and was taking 9 out of my 10-inch dick I was astounded the slobber and spit noises were loud, his hot spit on my cock made me even more aroused, I could feel lots of pre-cum, and I could feel him taking it to the back of his throat. By this time we had been in there for about an hour and Boyes was coming into the locker room at this time I could tell when he heard footsteps he wanted to hurry up and dip but I told him “No nigga keep going like a good fucking slut.” at this point they are all in the locker room watching Matthew give me astound head, as I looked around I could tell that some of them were holding their pants tight with their dicks kinda of sticking out a little. Matthew was still embarrassed but the lust he had for my dick was unstoppable, he started taking in more in more of me faster now having tears in his eyes from lust and embracement I could feel my cock’s pre cum and I knew I was about to climax so I leaned up a little bit and grabbed Matthew by his hair with both my hands then I forcefully pushed my cock up repeatedly in his hot mouth all the way in the of his throat. I could tell it hurt for Matthew but I needed to get this nut now. “Smack” “Slurp” “Slurp” “Smack “Smack “Smack” “Fuck!, I’m gonna cum in your hot throat!” “AGHHHHHH!, FUCK NIGGA.” I shot a fat and heavy load down Matthew’s throat. He was a mess, he had spit all over his face, was in tears, and just swallowed my fat load, it was heavier than the other one. When I looked around there were about 4 out of the seven other guys with their meat and everyone else was holding their pants tight in the front. I looked over at Matthew with his body all covered in sweaty aroma and cum, he had spit and cum on his face with tears and semi-red eyes,  got close to him then lifted his downed chin, and told him “Good work slut.”

Although he’d been pretty quick to give in and agree to go see Harding, part of Brandon was anxious about what would happen. Ultimately, his hormones won out. He decided that he’d hear what the 59-year old had to say and if things went the way he hoped they would, he wouldn’t hold back this time.  He’d still treat the man with kid gloves because he was so green when it came to man-on-man action.  But he vowed to let himself be the confident, suave, sex hungry, and able-bodied man he was with all of the men who’d come before.  If he got another shot with Josh, he was going to make sure the coach saw the real Brandon Davies this time around.  Not some watered-down timid version.

Despite the more sure-footed way he’d decided to act, Brandon couldn’t help but feel more than a few nerves as the time got closer for him to leave.  After showering, putting on his most alluring after shave, and dressing up in an outfit that was sure to show off all of the gains he’d been making at the gym over the past few years, he was out the door.  Forty-five minutes later, he was standing outside Room 1204 waiting for the man of his dreams to answer.

Brandon wanted to be more stern…let the coach think he had to work harder to get back in his good graces.  But when the door swung open and he saw Josh Harding standing there, looking hot as fuck in athletic wear, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling earnestly!

“Brandon!  It’s great to see you again!”  He extended his hand and shook Brandon’s with that same tight grip.  “Come in!”

“It’s great to see you too, Josh.  You’re looking pretty good, I must admit.”

“Thanks, my man!” Josh winked, making Brandon inwardly swoon at the reference.  “The same goes for you.”  It made Brandon’s dick start to chub up when he noticed Josh eyeing him up and down.  Yeah.  He’d still hear whatever it was that the coach had to say, but in his mind he already had the 59-year old’s legs propped up on his shoulders.

After ordering room service, Josh poured each of them a small bit of whiskey from the bar in his room and the two sat at a large round table in the corner.  “So, I guess we’d better not wait until the food gets here.  I’m sure you’re anxious to know why I sent that text a few days ago.”

“I wouldn’t say anxious,” Brandon corrected him.  “But yeah.  I do want to know what happened.  I thought we had fun together in your office.”

“We did,” Josh looked mightily uncomfortable.  “But then I freaked out.”

“I figured as much,” Brandon looked on sympathetically.

“But I don’t think you know why.”

“I can guess.  You’re a married straight man who didn’t plan on blowing and being blown by another guy.  The feelings it stirred up and the fact that you enjoyed it so much…” He saw Josh start to open his mouth, so Brandon kept talking to stop him from interrupting.  “And don’t try to deny it.  I was there.  I know you enjoyed the hell out of it.  The fact that you enjoyed it so much was too much for you to handle, so your instinct was to withdraw from those feelings.  Do I have the gist of it?”

“Sort of,” Harding seemed slightly annoyed that Brandon had tried to ‘shrink’ him.  “What you just said was part of it.  But there’s a lot more wrapped up in it.  I have a lifetime full of Catholic teachings and Catholic guilt that’s been pounded into me.  That was the biggest part of it.  I just kept seeing Father Herlihy standing there with a scowl on his face, wagging his finger at me and saying ‘Tsk tsk tsk, young Mr. Harding.  You’re setting yourself on the path to eternal damnation.’  It was a lot of pressure that I was putting on myself.”

“I understand, Josh.  It’s not easy to go against something you’ve been taught all your life.”  Brandon genuinely felt sorry for the guy.  But he also decided to bank the information for use later on.

“Not just that,” Josh went further.  “When we were together last time and you said you wanted to fuck me…”

“I want to apologize again for that,” Brandon interjected.  “I was pushy.  That’s something you have to be ready for on your own time.  And not every guy is ever ready for it.”

What Harding said next surprised the fuck out of Brandon…and got him instantly throwing rock hard in his jeans.  “That’s not it.  When you asked, I wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.  In fact, it intrigued me, very much.”

“Jesus…” Brandon muttered, then realized who he’d just said that in front of and blushed. “Uh, I mean…  Crap!  Sorry, Josh.”

Josh laughed.  “It’s okay, Brandon.  Like I said the other day in my office.  I may have gone to Catholic school, but I wasn’t some sort of pure as the driven snow goody two-shoes.  I don’t mind you saying things in front of me that you’d say in your everyday life.”

“Thanks.  But if you don’t mind me asking, if the idea of me fucking you appealed to you – or at least intrigued you – why did you turn me down the other day?”

Josh looked uneasy and raised his hand to push it through his hair.  “What little I know about anal sex is that it can be pretty messy and it’s preferable to be clean beforehand.  I wasn’t.  I didn’t want you to find that out the hard way, but I was too embarrassed to tell you.”

Just when Brandon thought this guy couldn’t get any more adorable and endearing…  “I appreciate the consideration, Josh.  But I wish you would’ve told me.  For the past few days, I’ve been going along thinking I did something wrong.”

“Damn,” Josh looked upset.  “I’m a total asshole.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s all water under the bridge.  The point is that we’re here now, everything’s out in the open, and hopefully we can start with a clean slate.”

“I’d like that very much,” Josh grinned.

It was about that time that dinner arrived.  Over a hearty meal, the men talked about sports, their lives, and other interests.  Brandon was sure it wasn’t his imagination, but it seemed like sexual tension was very much on the rise.  As both men finished cleaning their plates, he felt himself slipping into Casanova mode.  He was certain the 59-year old stud hadn’t invited him here to this hotel room only to talk and have dinner.  Sex was obviously also on the menu and Brandon was determined to make the most out of his second chance.

It was when Josh was pushing the room service cart out into the hallway that Brandon took the opportunity to slip off his shoes and climb onto the bed.  When Josh reentered, he found Brandon laying with his hands clasped behind his head, eliciting a double take from the coach.  “I was about to ask what you want to do now, but from the look of things, you have a plan.”

“Maybe…” Brandon winked with a sly grin.  Then, he reached down and to pat the spot next to him on the mattress.  “C’mere, bud.  It’s awful lonely over here.”

With a look that was a mix of unease and eagerness – probably just two of the many emotions swirling around within him at the moment – Harding slowly and tentatively moved toward the mattress.  All the way from the door to the foot of the bed, he never broke eye contact with Brandon…not even as he knelt on his right knee and then climbed up to lie next to the horny stud in his early 50s.

What Brandon was hoping for was for was for Harding to lay atop him so the two men could be body to body.  He found it sweet and adorable that the 59-year old actually lay down next to him as if they were some sort of old married couple that was turning in for the night at 8:30.  He almost turned his head and mockingly said, “Good night, Mother,” like an old-timey husband might address his wife.

Not wanting to ruin the mood, Brandon rolled over on his side and propped his head up with his right arm.  He was hard as hell and had no hesitation at pressing his body against Harding’s so the older man could feel his bulge pressing into his side.  Harding turned his head and looked into Brandon’s eyes.  God, was the coach beautiful.  All Brandon wanted to do was ravish the man!  But he could see the married man was also mighty uncomfortable.  He had some prep work to do before he could even think about making the move he wanted to make so bad it hurt.

Harding lay there with his hands folded against his midsection.  Brandon reached out and gently placed his left hand atop them.  “Hey…”

“Hey…” Josh croaked out.

“I think you already know how bad I want this.  But I don’t want it so badly that I’m willing to ignore your feelings, or that I’m going to pressure you into doing something you’re not ready for.  I’ve waited a long time for you, Josh Harding.  I can wait however much longer you need.”

Although there was kindness and understanding in Brandon’s eyes – and he was completely sincere in everything he’d just said – the horny, primal side of him that had lusted after this man for roughly two decades hoped against all hope that Josh wouldn’t put the brakes on their fun tonight.

Josh smiled warmly and took one of his hands out from under Brandon’s to bring it up and press it against the 50-something’s left shoulder.  “You have no idea how much it means to me that you just said that to me.  You’re a good guy, Brandon…better than I probably deserve.  I’ll admit, I’m nervous as hell.  But, I want…”  He exhaled deeply.  “I want this.  I don’t want to wait.  But please.  Be gentle with me.”

His eyes wide and sparkling as a triumphant smile graced his face, Brandon whispered, “I will.  As gentle as I can be.”

With that, Brandon leaned in slowly and placed his lips softly on Josh’s.  It only lasted a few seconds.  When Brandon pulled back, Josh had a huge smile on his face.  “Wow.  My first kiss with another guy.”

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“And more…” Josh quipped, finishing the line that had been used in a TV commercial from 30-ish years ago or more.  “But actually…”

For a brief moment, Brandon was worried.  Had he done something wrong?  “What?”

Josh bit his lip and grinned mischievously.  “I might need another sampling…just to make sure my opinion is well-researched.”

“In that case, I’d be happy to oblige,” Brandon whispered before leaning in for another tender kiss.

What started off as a mutual lips-only clinch rapidly deepened.  It’s as if that kiss was the key to unlocking everything…releasing Harding’s nerves and hesitancy and giving Brandon permission to take charge and be the generous and considerate but fervent lover he was used to being in bed.  He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, but without realizing it, he’d rolled over on top of Josh.  The two were now making out and tongue wrestling there on the bed fully clothed and clutching onto and feeling up each other’s bodies.

Forgetting his promise to himself to stay respectful of Harding being relatively green when it came to man on man action while staying true how forward his sex drive is, Brandon ran his hand down the older man’s torso and began kneading the growing bulge in his pants.  When he felt Harding’s body react and heard him gasp mid-kiss, he pulled back.  “Are you okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Josh sighed.  “I’m great, actually.  I just wasn’t expecting you to reach down like that.  With my wife and I…  Well, she likes things in a certain order and to move slowly.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being too forward.”  Brandon was admittedly a little dejected that Josh seemed to be putting the brakes on things.

Josh reached up and ran his hand along Brandon’s shoulder.  “You’re not.  Last week was new and different and there were a lot of things going on in my head.  But tonight, I don’t want things to be on my terms.”

“You sure?” Brandon tried to be supportive.

“Positive.  I did a lot of thinking this past week.  I want to experience this the way it’s supposed to be experienced.  I want the training wheels off.  I want you to be every bit the man you are with a guy who isn’t as green as I am.  I want all of you, Brandon…the full Brandon Davies.”

Brandon bit his lip, squeezed Josh’s unrelenting bulge, and grunted.  “Unf!  Only our second time together and you already know how to push my buttons!  Fuck, you’re a major turn on!”

Looking soulfully up into Brandon’s eyes, Josh whispered.  “I want you to show me how to push ALL of your buttons.”

Brandon leaned down to claim a sloppy and passionate kiss from the man before pulling back.  “I want that too.  And it’ll come in due time.  But for now…”  He leaned up and pulled Josh up into a position halfway between laying down and sitting.  “…it’s time for the clothes to come off!”

With a lust-filled intensity on his face, Harding reached down to pull at the hem of his shirt.  He got it halfway up his torso and Brandon helped him by yanking it the rest of the way off.  For a moment, Brandon forgot that he wanted the 59-year old out of his clothes.  He was in such awe of Harding’s upper body.  He reached out and gently felt up the man’s biceps, shoulders and pecs.

Eventually, the task at hand came back into focus when he pushed Josh onto his back.  Josh raised his shoulder up to lean down and watch Brandon undo his pants and roughly hook his fingers on both hands into the waistband to yank them and his underwear down his thighs and below his knees.  He stood up and pulled Josh’s pants off by the pant legs and then yanked the underwear down over his feet and tossed them somewhere behind him on the floor.  He was starting to be overtaken by hunger for the man.  Now that he had permission to fully be the man he was, Brandon didn’t want to hold back.

Before rejoining Harding on the bed, Brandon stood there looking at the prone, naked man lying there with his erection straining upward against his meaty belly.  The man was truly beautiful.  Maybe he wasn’t a perfectly-sculpted gym rat with all the right muscles in all the right places.  But damn if he wasn’t perfect for Brandon.  Brandon started to climb back into the bed when Josh held his hand up.

“Uh uh, man.”  He gestured with his hand in a way that told Brandon exactly what he wanted.  “You too!”

The 50-something had never disrobed so fast in his life.  It was still a trip that this man he’d fantasized about fucking dozens upon dozens of times was lying naked in front of him, beckoning him to take his clothes off.

His clothes now in a pile on the floor, Brandon could see Harding eyeing him…taking it all in.  He knew he looked decent without clothes on, but when comparing himself to the super-fit, in shape guys he saw at the gym, he knew he was no bodybuilder type.  But the way Josh looked at him made him feel like he was the most sculpted man of the face of the planet.  “You didn’t get to see me like this last week,” he pointed out.  “You like?”

“Oh yeah,” Josh croaked out, his cock quivering against his stomach.  “Makes me wish I hadn’t put a stop to things then.  You’re amazing, Brandon.”  It made Brandon tremble with horny glee when – while still gazing at him – Josh reached down and began slowly stroking himself.

Brandon reached down to mimic Josh’s motions on his own prong.  “We’re here now.  That’s all that matters, bud.”

“Then let’s not waste another moment.  Come here,” Josh beckoned him.

Not needing to be told twice, Brandon climbed back on the bed and lowered himself on top of Josh.  Instantly, the two men were hungrily at each other’s mouths again, clutching each other in a longing embrace as lips, mouths, and hands explored while their erections ground against each other, leaking precum.

After several minutes of unrelentingly passionate making out – rolling around with each man trying to exert control over the situation by being on top – Brandon found himself on top of the older coach and began kissing down his body, stopping to give extended attention to his neck…Brandon’s favorite foreplay move with a guy.  His lips and tongue caused Harding’s body to respond, bucking with moans and grunts escaping the man’s lips.

He continued to savor the slow journey downward.  It wasn’t just that he wanted to enjoy it himself.  Brandon wanted Josh to experience sex with a guy the right way.  He spent a lot of time alternating between kissing, licking, and nibbling on each of Josh’s nipples and pinching and flicking the one his mouth wasn’t on.  He lifted Harding’s arms up and licked each hairy pit, reveling in the musky, manly odor emanating from them.

Finally after who knows how long, he kissed his way toward the source of the hunky coach’s manliness.  As he extended his tongue to swipe at the cockhead, he heard a sharp intake of air above him and Josh’s voice broke the silence.  “This is what I’ve been waiting for…another one of your blow jobs.  Reliving that memory and feeling from last week has gotten me through some pretty rough times these past few days, you know.”

Brandon looked up.  “Yeah?  You been thinking about me blowing you, Josh?”

“Almost constantly, man.”

“That so, huh?”  Brandon tried to mask his intense pleasure at knowing this sex god had been thinking of him that way.  “Let me ask you.  When you thought about my mouth around your cock, did you have your hands down your pants at the time?”

Josh blushed.  “Definitely.  When I was wearing pants, that is.  I wasn’t always.”

Brandon shuddered.  “Ohhh fuck!  You are SO my type of guy, Josh Harding!  Innocent, uncorrupted former Catholic school students are the best…”

“Brandon, baby…  You can feel free to corrupt me anytime you want.”

“Mmmmm!  I’m going to hold you to that!”  As Brandon leaned back down to resume his oral ministrations on the coach’s cock, he heard Josh chuckle.

Over the next several minutes, he looked up into Harding’s face, locking eyes with him as he licked and sucked the man’s cock and balls.  For his part, Josh had his hands behind his head with a cocky, satisfied grin on his face as he watched.

After a while, Brandon started to drift deeper, letting his tongue swab over Harding’s taint.  When he felt Josh’s hand reach down and run through his hair, he took that as sign that he was meant to stop what he was doing.  “Bummer!” Brandon thought.  “He still doesn’t want me near his ass…”

When Brandon raised his head up, Josh beckoned him with his hand to join him.  After a quick soulful kiss, Brandon ran his hand through Josh’s hairy chest.  Josh pressed his own hand against Brandon’s chest loving the feel of the younger man’s musculature.  “I don’t want to have all the fun out of this,” he remarked.  “Why don’t you lay back and let me take care of you?”

Grinning from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning, Brandon lay on his back.  “Yes, please!”

With lust in his eyes, Josh leaned forward for a deep and passionate kiss, pinning Brandon’s hands above his head and running his own hands up and down the muscular arms.  As Josh worked his way down Brandon’s body, Brandon noted some of the ways that it seemed like Josh was trying to mimic what he’d done.  But in other ways, he put on his own moves.  Regardless, Brandon was enraptured.  Harding could’ve done anything at all and he would’ve been on Cloud Nine.

By the time Josh had worked his way down to Brandon’s leaking erection, Brandon was so fucking primed.  Josh looked up at his 50-something lover.  “Let’s see if I can do a better job now than I did last week.”

“You were perfect,” Brandon sighed, remembering how good it felt to have the 59-year old coach’s lips wrapped around his tool and couldn’t wait to feel that again.

Harding’s BJ skills were markedly better this time around…so much so that Brandon almost forgot himself and asked if Josh had sucked off a bunch of other guys to get in some practice.  He figured the older man would be offended at such a question.  But honestly, imagining Josh Harding on his knees, taking cock after cock – even getting face-fucked some – really revved Brandon’s engine.  It worked him up so much that – combined with Josh’s mouth on him – he felt himself about to go over the edge.  He had to reach down and practically shove Josh off of him.

Josh crouched back, looking a little wounded.  “I did something wrong, didn’t I?  I knew it!”

Brandon reached out and pulled Josh up to him and planted a soft kiss on the man’s lips he wrapped his arms around his back.  “You were amazing, Josh.  I got lost in the sauce and realized I was about to cum.  I didn’t want to yet and I didn’t think there was time for me to stop you with words.”

Josh blushed.  “I almost made you cum?”

“100%, stud.” Brandon pulled Josh down for another kiss that drifted into a brief make out session which ended with Brandon on top.  When he pulled back, in a husky tone and with a thoughtful look, he told Josh his fondest wish.  “You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you.  I know you may not be ready and I’m absolutely okay with that.  But I just want to put that out there.”

Josh surprised him when he reached up to brush the hair off of Brandon’s forehead.  “I told you earlier I want the full Brandon Davies.  I might need you to go easy on me…at least to begin with.  But I want you in me, Brandon.”

Overcome with the emotion of the moment and the pure sexual tension between them, Brandon leaned down and claimed another tongue-filled kiss.  When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, bud.  I may not be able to hold myself back once I’m in you, but I’ve got you.”

Josh smiled.  “That’s all I need to know.  I trust you.” He reached his hand up and around to the back of Brandon’s neck to pull him down for another kiss.

When they parted, Brandon felt himself being reflective.  He reached down and ran his finger along Josh’s cheek.  “What you told me earlier about why you rebuffed the idea of us fucking last week…”  He didn’t know how to finish that sentence tactfully.

Josh seemed to understand where Brandon was going.  “In addition to doing a lot of thinking over the past week, I also did a lot of reading and research.  Once I decided that I wanted to be open to everything with you, I wanted to be ready for whatever might happen.  Before you got here, I cleaned myself out.  If that’s what you were going to ask.”

Brandon grinned.  “I was.  You have no idea how amazed I am by how open to this you are.”

“I’m amazed by you,” Josh purred, leading to an extended unspoken bonding moment between the two men.

A few minutes later, Brandon had the stud coach’s legs in the air and his face buried in his ass, digging his tongue into the dilating hole.  It was more gratifying than he could possibly explain to anyone to hear the older man moan and feel him writhing on the bed.  Josh didn’t say and Brandon didn’t have to ask.  He was pretty sure this was the first time Josh had been rimmed.  Brandon thought he was a pretty good partner in bed and skilled at most things, but he considered rimming not only his specialty, but it was his favorite thing to do.  He wanted this to be the rimjob that Harding would compare all future rimjobs against…and hoped none of them would ever measure up.

Brandon felt like he could eat Harding out all fuckin’ night long.  But as he felt his cock twitch, he knew that his desire to fuck the man was much greater in that moment.  He pulled back and looked up and the object of his desire.  “I’m going to start opening you up with my fingers.  My tongue should have relaxed your hole some, but fair warning:  you might feel some discomfort.”

“I’m ready for it.”

Brandon reached over to a small bag he’d brought with him and pulled out his favorite lube.  Saliva alone wouldn’t be enough to make this as easy as possible for a newbie like Josh.

Over the next several minutes, Brandon slipped his finger in and out of Josh’s hole…first up to the first knuckle…then to the second, his finger slipping past Harding’s ring.  The feeling of slipping past that ring was indescribable for Brandon.  True to his prediction, it was a little rough on the man.  He’d had to re-lube up once already and again as he worked a second and then third finger in.

Finally, Brandon was ready.  Really he was MORE than ready.  If it were any other guy, he wouldn’t necessarily have taken as much care.  But Josh was special.  He wanted this to be good for him.  He climbed back up onto the bed and crouched between the man’s legs.  “I’m ready, Josh.  You sure you want this?”

Josh looked up at him.  “More than anything, man.  Having your fingers in me…  It was tough at first, but once they were in me, it felt amazing.  I want to feel your dick in me more than anything!”

“I’m glad you said that,” Brandon bit his lip.  Boy was he falling for this guy!  “You’re going to feel some pressure until I get my head in you.  I’m not going to sugar coat it.  It’s going to hurt.  And it’ll feel uncomfortable even after I’m into you until you get used to the sensation.  Once I start fucking you, it may still hurt some.  But eventually, it’ll change and you should feel nothing but pleasure.”

Josh reached out to place his hand on Brandon’s, which was resting on Josh’s stomach.  “Like I said before, I trust you.”

Brandon gave Josh one last long and smoldering look before applying more lube and beginning the work of sinking into his sexual idol.  Slowly sinking into him was painful for both men…obviously for Harding mostly.  Brandon wasn’t exactly a small man down there so it obviously hurt.  But it was painful for Brandon too.  He wanted to fuck Josh so bad, he had to work hard to rein in his enthusiasm to move faster.  After several minutes of going slow, Brandon had bottomed out inside the man.  He leaned forward and met Josh in a quick kiss.

“How’re you feeling?”

Josh winced and grunted, but was obviously intent on not crying uncle.  “It’s uncomfortable like you said it would be, but I’m good.”

“Perfect,” Brandon smiled at him, reassuringly.  For the next few minutes, the two men made out while Brandon gave his insides an opportunity to get used to the feeling of his cock.

When they parted, Brandon reached up and ran his hand over Josh’s hairy chest.  “I’m going to start fucking you now.  I’m going to start slow.  But at a certain point, nature’s going to take over and I may not be able to hold back.”

Josh locked eyes with the caring man – his heart just as full as his gut was at the moment – and reached up to grip his arm.  “It’s okay, Brandon.  Treat me like any other man you’ve been with.”

Brandon grinned at him mischievously and softly pumped his hips back and forth, eliciting a groan from the hunky 59-year old.  “You got it, bud!”

After a couple minutes of slow fucking, Brandon was fit to be tied.  God how he wanted to go faster!  But it was obvious from the look on Josh’s face that the discomfort hadn’t flipped over to pleasure yet.  Remembering their conversation from earlier in the evening, Brandon decided to try something that might take Josh’s mind out of his own head and heighten the pleasure.

“Tsk tsk tsk, young Mr. Harding,” Brandon mused, causing the wince to immediately leave Josh’s face when he snapped his eyes open to look at Brandon.

“What’d you say?” Josh asked.

Brandon smirked.  “You’re on the road to eternal damnation, aren’t you young Mr. Harding?  Telling Mrs. Carruthers that you needed the hall pass to go to the restroom because your stomach hurt.  She sent me to check on you and I heard you in the stall, moaning my name while you masturbated.”

“Father Herlihy?” Josh moaned out.

Brandon leaned down as he began to slowly and subtly quicken his pace.  “That’s right, young Mr. Harding.  I see the way you look at me when you think I won’t notice.  You want me, don’t you?  You want to climb under my desk, get on your knees, and fish my cock out of my slacks.”

His face contorting in pleasure, giving Brandon unspoken license to begin truly fucking him, Josh sighed with pleasure.  “Yes, Father.  I want to suck your dick, then climb up into your lap, pull your collar out and stick my tongue down your throat.  I want you to be so fuckin’ turned on by me that you push everything off of your desk, rip the seat out of my school-issued dress pants, and fuck me.”

Now pounding in and out of the coach, Brandon tried to stay in character.  “I want that too, young Mr. Harding.  I’ve spent so many nights jacking off thinking about you.”

“Me too, Father.  But I spent so many nights feeling guilty for wanting it.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re a naughty boy, aren’t you young Mr. Harding?”

Moaning loudly, Josh exclaimed.  “Yes, Father.  I’m a naughty slut for you!”

Brandon reached for the lube, squirted some in the palm of his hand, and reached down to stroke Josh’s hard cock, coating it.  “You naughty boy…  Stroke your cock!  Stroke your cock while Father Herlihy fucks you.”

“Oh Father!” Josh screamed as he reached down and began furiously jacking himself.  “I’m not going to last long.  I’m almost there!”

Brandon felt the same as he pumped in and out.  “Cum for me, young Mr. Harding.  Come for your sexy priest!”

Seconds later, shot after shot of cum exploded from the coach’s cock, coating his chest and stomach…a couple shots even making it onto his chin.  As Harding’s body convulsed with aftershocks, his insides clenched, rapidly bringing Brandon along with him.  His own body shook and he felt himself black out as his load spilled into the coach’s insides.

How much later it was, Brandon didn’t know, but he opened his eyes and slipped his softened but not completely flaccid cock out of Harding and joined the man at the head of the bed where both men propped themselves up against the headboard.

Brandon looked at Josh, who was still collecting his breath.  “So what’s the verdict?”

“There are no words,” Josh heaved.

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” Brandon deadpanned.

“I do.  A VERY good way.  Saying it was amazing seems repetitive and at the same time like not enough.”

“I’ll take amazing,” Brandon grinned.

“And that thing with Father Herlihy and young Mr. Harding?  I wasn’t expecting that.”

Brandon blushed.  “I remembered what you said earlier and took a leap of faith – so to speak – that maybe it would help.”

Josh exhaled.  “Boy DID it!  I guess I didn’t realize that I have some latent feelings there that I haven’t worked through.”

Brandon leaned in to lick and nibble on Josh’s ear before whispering, “I’ll help you work through them as much as you want me to.”  He leaned back and added, “As long as you let ME fuck you more than you let Father Herlihy.”

Josh grinned and pulled Brandon into another kiss.  “Having Father Herlihy fucking me is nice, but I much prefer you.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again.  You know exactly how to turn me on, Harding!”

The two men made out some more before deciding that they were tired.  They slipped down under the sheets with Josh playing small spoon to Brandon’s big spoon.  Eventually, sleep overtook both men.

***

Sometime later – Brandon didn’t know how long it had been since he’d fallen asleep – he woke up.  Instead of being in bed next to a sleeping Josh Harding, he was in the middle of what looked like an oversized family room…the kind that would be in the basement of one of those huge McMansions that people buy but is really too much house for them.  “What the fuck is going on?” Brandon muttered to himself as he surveyed the beautiful debauchery happening around him.

All around the room, there were naked men kissing, sucking, and fucking…some in pairs, some in groups of three.  It was an incredibly hot scene…or it would’ve been if he could see any detail.  All of the men were just blurs of flesh, moaning and sweaty.  It was very surreal and confusing.  As he felt himself trying to make sense of it all, Brandon realized his hips were bucking back and forth and he felt the sensation of his erection being sheathed in the tightest ass he’d ever felt.  But when he looked down to see who he was fucking, it was just a flesh-colored blur.  “The fuck…?!?!?!”

He shook his head to try and loosen all of the cobwebs and that’s when he noticed he and this fleshy blur were on the floor next to a sofa.  On the sofa, he saw a familiar face…or PART of a familiar face.  It was a very naked Jason making out with some guy.  “It figures that hornball would be at a sex party!” Brandon laughed to himself.

He couldn’t get the nagging thought out of his mind of wondering what had happened to Josh.  Where was the hotel room?  Where had Josh gone?  Forgetting all decorum and protocol given that Jason was making out with some dude, Brandon leaned over.  “Hey, bud.  Have you seen Josh?”

Jason pulled back from his make out session and turned toward Brandon.  “He’s here.  Where else would he be but at your dual bachelor party?”

“Bachelor party?!”

“Yeah, man.  The wedding’s tomorrow.  Remember?  I’m your best man.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Brandon heard a deep male voice say.  “But can you please focus on the guy you’re fucking and stop talking to mine?”

“Oh!  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.”  It was then that Brandon turned and saw the guy Jason had been making out with was giving him a sexually frustrated glare.  “Brian Cooke?!  Fuck, Jason!  How did you rope a stud like him?”

Brian rolled his eyes and looked at Jason.  “It figures your buddy would be another drooling fan boy like all the other horny men I’ve had to fight off with a stuck over the years.”

“Don’t worry about him.  He’s harmless,” Jason replied, leaning in for a quick tongue-filled kiss from the horny 70-something ex-ref.  “I, on the other hand.  Am NOT!”  With that, Jason reached down and pinched one of the retired ref’s nipples.

Cooke broke the kiss and let out a guttural sex growl.  “I know.  Why do you think I keep coming back for more?”  He then leaned in to kiss Jason’s neck.

“What is going on here?!” Brandon raised his voice in frustration, still confused by the entire scene before him.

Repeating what he’d said earlier, Jason simply said, “It’s a bachelor party.  The wedding’s tomorrow.  Remember?  I’m your best man.”

Seemingly accepting that a wedding was happening tomorrow, Brandon felt the need to know exactly where Josh was.  “Yeah.  You already said that.  I get it.  And I know Josh’s here, but where?”

Jason pointed off in some random direction.  “He’s in the other room having an orgy with a few of his favorite fellow coaches.”

“Fuck that,” Brandon spat, overcome with jealousy.  It was a pretty foreign experience for the 50-something.  He was into a lot of things when it came to sex and orgies were near the top of the list.  And he certainly wasn’t one to judge having sex with multiple men.  But something about Josh Harding having sex with four other men cut right to the bone.  “I don’t like Josh having sex with anyone else.  I don’t care if it IS our bachelor party!”

“You hardly have room to talk, dude,” Jason countered, gesturing toward Brandon.  “You’re fucking Mitch Tannen.”

“What?!”

His hips still bucking – never having stopped the whole time he was talking to Jason and Cooke – Brandon looked down.  What had before been a flesh-colored blur had come into focus.  Sure enough, there was a mature-muscled, silver fox Mitch Tannen lying on his back and Brandon was pounding him for all he was worth.

“Son of a bitch!  Mitch Tannen!  Man, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten off imagining doing this.”

“Same here, buddy,” Tannen moaned out.  “I’ve imagined being fucked by you so many times.”

“Really?” Brandon was stunned.  “By me?  I’m surprised you know who I am!”

“We all do,” Tannen responded.  “Your cock is legendary.  I’m jealous as hell that Josh Harding gets to have you.  At least I can say that I got you tonight before all of these other horny fuckers have a chance to take a turn with you.”

Fuck was this surreal.  And an incredible turn on!

He looked up to brag to Jason that Mitch Tannen is a fan of his.  With Brian still attacking Jason’s neck with kisses, Jason spoke before Brandon could utter a word.  “I want you to be the first to know, Brandon.  Brian adopted me!”

“I’m sorry.  What?” Brandon exclaimed.  “You’re like, 45 years old.  What do you mean he adopted you?!”

“We want to be able to say we’re having incest when we fuck, so Brian adopted me.  I’m now officially a member of the Cooke family!”

Brian pulled back from Jason’s neck and grinned proudly.  “I finally have a son to have sex with.  Isn’t he a sexy fucker?”

“Wait.  You have four sons already, don’t you?”  Brandon questioned, feeling like he was having an acid hallucination.

“I do,” Brian smiled.  “…and I married all four of ‘em!”

Brandon shook his head again and brought his hand up to his forehead.  None of this made any sense at all.  When he turned back to Jason to explain that something felt very wrong, he saw Jason and Cooke standing in front of him, still completely nude with raging boners.  “You guys going to find a bed somewhere?” he asked.

“We’re leaving,” Jason said matter of factly as Cooke stood behind him and wrapped his muscular arm around Jason’s upper chest and nuzzled his neck.  “We’re moving to Maine to sell maple syrup and beans.”

“And become crab fishermen,” Brian took his mouth off of Jason’s neck to chime in.

It didn’t make any sense to Brandon.  Then again, nothing that was happening made any sense.  “What?”

Ignoring Brandon’s confusion, Jason added, “And on our days off we’ll solve mysteries every week like Angela Lansbury.”

“When are you moving?”

“Now, man.”

“Now?  You can’t move now, Jason.”

“Sorry, dude,” Jason said excitedly.  “We just closed on a lighthouse in Cabot Cove and we’ve got to move in right away.”

“But you said the wedding’s tomorrow.  You’re my best man.  Who will step in for you?”

“Don’t worry, Brandon.  I made arrangements.  Thad Burnett will meet you at the church.”

“Thad Burnett?!  I’m not having Thad Burnett as my best man!”

“Sorry, bro.  See you later!”  With that, Jason and Brian walked off toward the exit, still nude.

“This is all wrong!” Brandon said out loud, his hips still bucking back and forth.  When he looked down, Mitch Tannen was gone…replaced once again by a flesh-colored blur.  He looked around the room frantically.  “Where’s Josh?!” he shouted loudly.

“I’m right here, babe!” Brandon heard Josh’s voice and looked down.  The flesh-colored blur was gone again and this time, Josh was laying on his stomach, with his fist wrapped around Brandon’s leaking hard on.  “I wanna lick you like a lollipop!”

“Oh fuck, Josh!  I want that so fuckin’ bad.  I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Believe it, stud.”  Josh replied before taking Brandon’s cock into his mouth.

Brandon threw his head back to enjoy the BJ when he felt a shadow loom over him.  He opened his eyes to see someone standing directly next to him, but he couldn’t make out who it was.

“It’s your wedding day tomorrow, Brandon.  You know the rules.”

Brandon noticed a hard cock being thrust at his face.  Fuck, this was too good to be true.  His fiancé’s mouth on his cock and another cock about to be in his mouth.  He started to lean forward to take it in when he stopped and looked up at the guy, still unable to make out his face.  “I didn’t know there was a rule about sucking a cock the night before my wedding, but I’m willing to play along!”

“Of course there’s a rule.  The groom has to take his best man’s load down his throat the night before the wedding.”

Brandon froze.  The best man…?  Oh fuck no!  He looked up and still couldn’t make out the identity of the man standing next to him but he knew who it had to be.  He looked down at Josh between his legs.  “Josh, don’t let him give me his cock.  I don’t want to!”

Josh pulled his mouth off of Brandon’s crank and looked up at him with a mischievous smile.  “Sorry, babe.  It’s the rule.  You have to.”  And then went back to sucking Brandon’s cock.

Brandon closed his eyes tight.  “I don’t want to!  Don’t make me!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and threw his eyes open, prepared to shove away anyone who might try to make him do something he didn’t want to do.  He was breathing heavily and saw Josh leaning over him with a look of concern.  “Hey…  You okay, Brandon?”

He looked around the room at the sun streaming through the hotel room window.  Brandon exhaled and felt himself relaxing.  It had all been a dream.  “Yeah.  I’m good.”

“You sure?” Josh questioned.  “I woke up before you and decided I’d partake in a little early morning cocksucking.  When you started moaning and muttering unintelligibly, I figured I was doing something right.  But then you started thrashing around and saying ‘I don’t want to.  Don’t make me.  We’re getting married.’  I got worried.  What were you dreaming about?”

Brandon smiled and decided to lie.  Divulging that he’d been dreaming about marrying the stud coach might scare him off.  “I don’t remember exactly.  You know how it is with dreams once you wake up.”

“I hope you don’t react that way to all morning blow jobs,” Josh quipped.

Brandon reached down to pull Josh up to join him.  “Trust me.  I don’t.  You can wake me up with a blow job anytime.”

“Mmmm,” Josh moaned before leaning in for a quick kiss.  “I just might do that.”

After some more time spent in bed making out and some mutual sucking, the men decided to reconvene in the shower, ostensibly to wash last night’s sex off of – and out of, in Josh’s case – them.  Of course, soaping each other up, turned into making out and more sex.  For the second time in less than 12 hours, Brandon spilled his load into his ultimate fantasy man.

Once they were back in bed, laying against the headboard enjoying the body contact and the contentment of post-coital bliss, Josh spoke up.  “I hate to go there, because we’ve been having such a good time.  But I think this needs to be said.”

Brandon turned to look at the man, worried he was about to cut off contact.  “What’s on your mind, man?”  He tried not to let Josh see the concern in his eyes.

“This has been better than I ever thought it could be and I want to do it again…”  Brandon inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.  “…but the truth is that we’re in two different places in our lives.  You’re single.  I’m married.  You’re an out and proud gay man and I’m…” he paused.  “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not in the same place you are.  Even though we were able to be together last weekend and this one, it’s not going to be like that all the time.  My wife and my kids are always going to be my priority.  They have to be.  And that’s not taking into account football season.  I’m the head coach of a prominent team and that’s going to pull at my attention.  I want you to know that I want to be with you as much as I can, but I think we should both be realistic.  We might be able to get together a few times a month or it could be a month or two between times we can get together.”

“I understand, Josh.  And I want you to know that I don’t want to put any undue stress or pressure on you.  I loved the hell out of what we’ve done so far and I want it to continue.  But I have no expectations.  I just want to be naked with you whenever I get the chance.”

Josh gave Brandon a heart-melting look that made Brandon want to sweep him off of his feet – figuratively speaking – and sweep him down to City Hall for a quickie wedding.  “It’s not fair to you for you to be in that position.  Your life shouldn’t be on hold because of me.”

Even though he knew he didn’t want any other men besides the one he was in bed with right now, he knew he needed to ease the coach’s mind, so he decided to stretch the truth.  “Trust me.  It won’t be.  I’m not going to actively seek anything out.  But if a good guy who I enjoy being with comes along, I won’t turn it down.”

That seemed to ease Josh’s mind.  His body relaxed and he smiled.  “Good.  You deserve happiness, Brandon.  I don’t want to hold you back from that.”

“You won’t,” Brandon smiled.  “And for the record, I’m happier right now than I’ve been in a long time.”  Brandon fell silent.  There was somewhere further he wanted to go, but he didn’t want to overstep and risk ruining the moment by taking things where Josh wasn’t ready to go.  He’d come a long way in a week in a lot of respects.  But maybe this would be too far too fast.

Josh noticed the mood in the room change.  He leaned over to run his hand across the expanse of Brandon’s chest, and up to caress his chin…lightly turning the younger man’s head toward him.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Nothing,” Brandon lied.  “Just having a silent moment of reflection.”

Josh cocked his eye at Brandon with a look of mock disdain.  “Come on, man.  I may be new to all of this,” he gestured at the bed and the two of them.  “But I’m not new to interacting with other human beings.  You forget.  For a living I deal with a bunch of guys – some of whom are barely 21 and some who are even younger than that.  I know when a guy’s being evasive.  Spill it!”

Brandon grinned.  Somehow, Josh being so forthright with him made him feel better about broaching the subject.  “I don’t want to be pushy.  I know we’re not a couple, but I can’t help but wish that I knew more about you…about your life.”

Josh smiled that same damn boner-inducing smile of his.  “There’s not much to tell really.  I’m sure you know most of the highlights.  I’m a pretty boring, run-of-the-mill, average guy.”

Brandon chuckled softly then leaned in to playfully nip at Josh’s ear.  “Trust me, Josh.  There’s absolutely nothing average about you as far as I’m concerned.”

“Normally I don’t love a coach’s pet, but I have to say Brandon, flattery will get you everywhere.”

The two eased into a brief make out session before Brandon pulled back, now feeling more emboldened to prod further.  “Earlier you said you were hardly a choir boy.  I’ve always seen a little mischief in your eyes whenever I’ve seen you interviewed or seen you on the sideline during a game.  But I can’t see you as much of a troublemaker in your youth.”

Josh leaned his head on Brandon’s shoulder and let himself melt into the younger man’s embrace.  “I mean…  It wasn’t as if I was the ringleader of a shoplifting syndicate or robbing banks after school.  But I got into my fair share of trouble.”

“I’m sure…” Brandon used an overtly teasing tone.  “The oldest son from a devout family with a strict football coach father was causing trouble.  I doubt that.”

“It was mostly teenage hijinks and harmless stuff.  But I had my moments.”

“I don’t buy it,” Brandon egged Harding on.

Josh leaned up and turned toward Brandon like an anxious kid, eager to prove his point.  He lay his hand on Brandon’s pec, sending a rush of electricity through Brandon’s body.  The younger man couldn’t deny how right it felt in the moment…the two of them just being naked in bed together and having a conversation like two lovers.  It was almost better than the actual sex had been.  Almost!

“Alright, my man,” Harding shot back.  “There’ll be time later on to get into ‘Harding: The Miniseries’, but I’ll give you one story.  When my brother and I both got our license, we shared an old beat up car with manual transmission and our house was up on a hill.  I’d never driven that kind of car before and didn’t know all the ways driving a stick is different than an automatic.    Anyway, my first time taking it out for a spin, when I got back home I parked it in the driveway on an incline because I was the last one in and both of my parents’ cars were already parked ahead.  Only I didn’t realize that with a stick shift you have to set the handbrake.  So I go boppin’ on in the house and a few minutes later our neighbor from out on the corner calls and goes, ‘Hey, your car’s on our stop sign’.”

Engrossed in the story…in ANYTHING Josh Harding had to say, Brandon laughed.  “What had happened?”

Barely able to contain his laughter at the memory, Josh croaked out, “The car had….!  The car had rolled……….dooooowwwwnnn the hill and gone backward down the street a full block before it knocked over that stop sign.”

Still in a teasing mood, Brandon chuckled.  “Oh wow!  Call the authorities!  You were a regular young Al Capone!”

Josh playfully knocked Brandon on his pec with the back of his hand.  “Hey…  I said it was mostly teenage hijinks.  Besides, you can’t imagine the amount of hell I caught from my dad over that.  He wasn’t abusive or anything, but you didn’t want to get too far out of line either.”

Brandon wrapped his arm around Josh again and pulled him in.  “Thanks for sharing that.  I can’t wait to hear more.  Uh…when you’re ready to share, that is!”

Josh leaned in for a kiss.  “In due time, my man.  In due time…”

Brandon signed with contentment, but there was still something more on his mind.

“So, so far the ground rules are:  your family obligations and career obligations take precedence, the frequency with which we hook up will depend on our schedules, you’re not going to hold me back from a shot at a relationship with no strings if the opportunity comes along, AND you have what I can only describe as a very boner-inducing fetish for playing out hot sex between a horny priest and an even hornier Catholic school student.  I want to add something else to the ground rules.”

“Anything, Brandon” Josh said huskily with a meaningful look in his eyes.  “But before you tell me, I want us to get something straight.”

Brandon was suddenly wary of how Harding had slipped from sexy bed companion into stern coach mode.  “Okay.”

“I don’t like that you referred to us getting together and having sex as hooking up.  To me, a hookup is sex only for the sake of pleasure with nothing deeper behind it.  I could pussyfoot around the subject, but honestly, I’m too old to play that BS.  At my age, I’m beyond playing coy.  What we did last night and this morning means something to me.  We’re not a couple, but you’re much more to me than some random sex partner.  You hear me?”

For about the fourth or fifth time since they met the previous weekend, Brandon had the sensation of feeling like just when he didn’t think he could be more impressed with or turned on by Josh Harding, he did or said something to make Brandon realize this guy was even more fuckable than he already found him.  “Loud and clear,” Brandon grinned.  “We’re…”

“Having fun,” Josh finished for him.

“Right,” Brandon agreed.  He like the sound of that.  “Lots…*kiss*…and lots…*kiss*…and lots…*kiss*…of fun.  And in that spirit, I wonder if maybe occasionally you’d like to play the role of a horny, sex-starved football coach who – in trying to pump up the spirits of his third-string QB who thinks he’ll never get a shot at NFL stardom – ends up offering his ass to said QB as positive reinforcement for all the gains he’s making in the weight room and in practice?”

Josh grinned and leaned in to lay kisses on Brandon’s shoulder.  “A horny coach and a rookie QB with something to prove?  I’m all in on that one, man!”

“Wrong,” Brandon teased.  “I’LL be the one who’s all in…Coach!”  To prove his point, he reached down and gripped his satisfied cock and gave it a few tugs.

The two men kissed again and – yet again – it led to another extended make out session.  Two hours later, Brandon was exiting the hotel room to head for home while Josh prepared to go out to the practice facility to get ready for a scrimmage his team was having in a couple hours.

***

Brandon had been home barely an hour, still floating on air and feeling on a total post-coital high after spending the night and most of the morning with Harding when there was a knock on his door.  Unable to wipe a giddy grin off of his face, he leapt up from the couch and practically jogged to the door, half expecting the coach to be waiting on the other side for a quick make out sesh before he had to head to the team’s practice facility.

When he opened the door, he found Jason on the other side leaning against the door frame his head tilted down slightly so that he was looking up at Brandon in what was probably supposed to be a sexy pose.  With a lilt and a smoldering and seductive affect to his voice, he smiled.  “Hey there, big boy.  Guess who’s come to collect payment for that favor from last week?”

Brandon rolled his eyes and turned to walk back toward his sofa, hearing Jason shut the condo door behind him.  “How about instead, I whip us up a late breakfast?  Scrambled eggs?”

“Good idea.  We’d better both load up on protein for all of the fucking that’s about to happen.  But I gotta tell you…”  Jason walked up to Brandon and moved in close, reaching around to run his hands down the taller man’s back.  “I’m more in the mood for bacon…if you know what I’m getting at.”

Before Jason’s hand moved below the equator, Brandon swatted it away.  “I DO know what you’re getting at and trust me.  You’re NOT getting at it this morning or anytime soon!”

“Come on, man!  When we wrote Section 18(c), subsection 1.a.4, paragraph 3 of our Bro Code, we specifically identified and itemized the conditions under which we would be allowed a waiver to fuck each other’s brains out.  And in paragraph 4, the conditions under which you’d consent to bottoming – no question, no complaints – were specifically spelled-out.  I believe condition #2 is something along the lines of ‘the party of the second part – me – performs a huge favor for the party of the first part – you – and in doing so goes so far above and beyond the call of duty that he puts himself at risk of extreme harm, annoyance, shame, or discomfort.’  I think me having to put up with Mr. Front Office’s clumsy bedside manner and his micro dick meets all four of those metrics.”

Brandon had to stifle his laughter and try to keep a straight face while Jason was rambling on and on.  His friend was nothing if not persistent.  “Bud, I can appreciate you trying to appeal to my sense of following the rules, but I’m going to tell you again.  It’s not happening.  Besides, the universe rewarded you for enduring Mr. Front Office.  You got to get hot and sweaty with your fantasy man.”  Mocking Jason’s behavior in their FaceTime from last weekend, Brandon mouthed “three times” in an over exaggerated way while shoving three of his fingers in Jason’s face.  “Remember?  I think that makes me officially off the hook.”

“Actually, it was four times.  More than just soaping off happened when I joined ol’ Macky in the shower.  But that’s beside the point.  There’s no clause in the Bro Code for an ipso facto after the fact substitution due to the party of the second part stumbling into accidental hot and heavy sex with a…” Jason made a show of jokingly looking Brandon up and down “…MUCH hotter man than the party of the first part.”

Brandon chuckled.  “You fucker…!”

“That’s my long way of saying, you still owe me.  So head back into the bedroom, throw your legs in the air and break out the lube.  And make sure it isn’t any of that fancy-ass lube you like to use either.  I’m a traditionalist when it comes to fucking ass.  Bring the Vaseline in from the bathroom because it’s about to get real greasy!”

Sighing heavily, Brandon looked defeated.  “Fine.  If for no other reason than to shut you the hell up.  Let’s do this.”  He turned and started to walk back toward the bedrooms.

Behind him, he heard Jason’s confused voice.  “Wait.  What?  Really?!”

With his back still turned, Brandon grinned cleverly.  Two can play at this game…  Not fully turning around, Brandon looked over his shoulder.  “Yep.  As the saying goes, you can’t fight City Hall.  The Bro Code is very clear.”

“Wow…  I…I didn’t think that would actually work.  I don’t know what to say.”

Before turning around, Brandon tried to put on his most seductive face, remembering his time with Harding just last night.  He turned and walked back up to Jason, standing very close to him.  “I know what to say.  I’ve secretly been wanting this for a long time.”

For his part, Jason’s face had gone pale and he looked wide-eyed and nervous as hell.  He gulped.  “You have?”

“Oh yeah…”  Brandon nodded his head and reached up to grip Jason’s bicep.  “I’ve been noticing how all your hard work at the gym has been paying off.  It’s such a turn on.  It’s taken every fiber of my being not to pull you to me and tear your clothes off whenever we hang out.”

“Holy shit!  I…I can’t believe this.  I just came over here to check up on you after you were so down and out over J.H.  Before we got to the part where I comfort you and help see you through the devastating rejection, I just thought I’d yank your chain a little bit.  I didn’t expect…”  Jason couldn’t finish his thought he was so thrown by his buddy’s sudden change of heart.

Brandon stepped in closer, practically pressing his entire body against Jason and gave him a smoldering look before leaning closer – his lips just inches apart from the younger man’s – and whispered.  “Can I tell you a secret, bud?”

Feeling himself becoming weak in the knees and wanting to melt into Brandon’s body, Jason practically moaned in response.  “You can tell me anything…”

In a breathy whisper worthy of any phone sex operator, Brandon spoke haltingly and seductively.  “I’m 100…..percent….positively….absolutely…” Before finishing, Brandon stepped back and adopted his normal manner of speaking.  “…fine.  A lot’s happened since we talked a week ago and I’m not in the same place I was back then.  So since you really only came over here to check on me and I’m totally fine, let’s watch a game on TV.  What do you say?  We can either find a baseball game or maybe the Final Four’s on…”  Brandon walked over to grab the remote control from the coffee table, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV.”

“You…you…you,” Jason stammered, “mean person!”

Brandon looked back over his shoulder.  “Go easy on me, Jas.”

Jason wasn’t actually upset.  There were a lot of feelings churning inside him at the moment, but he was actually impressed that his buddy had turned the tables and put one over on him.  “Luckily for you, I’m not so ticked off at you that I won’t raid your cabinet for food to snack on while we watch TV!”

Brandon laughed as Jason made a show of fake storming off to the kitchen.  In that moment, he heard his phone buzz.  When he pulled it out to check the message, it was from Josh.

“Hey Brandon.  Weather’s acting up.  I’ve canceled the team’s practice and drills for the day and given them some time off.  My family’s gone for the day to my in-laws’.  Suddenly, I have the whole day free and that hotel room is paid for until late tonight.  You think you might want to get together?”

“What about the ground rules?”  Brandon typed back, adding a wink smiley face emoji in case Josh misunderstood and thought he was serious.

“Let’s just say those can go into effect starting tomorrow.  Today is about us having fun and you doing your best to remedy how empty my ass feels.”

Brandon grinned and instantly sprang hard.  Addicted to this man was a gross understatement.  “I’m a pro at filling a guy’s emptiness.”

“I know first-hand.  I can still feel your dick in me and I can’t wait to feel it in me again for real.  So what do you say?  You wanna join me?”

“I’m in!”  Brandon typed back.

“Great.  Need a few minutes to wrap things up here.  Meet me back at the hotel in an hour and a half.  Text me when you’re in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.  See you soon…young Mr. Harding.”

“Oh fuck!  An hour and a half can’t come soon enough!”

Brandon grinned and had just set his phone down when Jason re-entered from the kitchen with a bag of chips.  “So, are you going to tell me what changed between our FaceTime and now that’s put you in such a good mood?  Or does this have to remain a state secret like your first encounter with J.H.?”

As Jason joined Brandon on the sofa, he turned to face his friend.  “Not much to tell, really.  A few days later, Josh texted me and told me he had a change of heart.  He wanted to see me to explain himself, so I went to see him last night.  We talked, we had dinner, we fooled around a little bit.  Everything’s good now.”  Jason didn’t need to know all the details of his magical night with the coach, Brandon reasoned to himself.

“I’m glad, man.  It feels like you’re leaving out a lot of the story.  But I get it.  Some things you want to keep for yourself.”

“Thanks, man.  I appreciate it.”

Brandon was about to open his mouth again to break the ‘bad’ news to Jason when the younger man interrupted him.

“At least tell me this, though.  Did it live up to your expectations?”

“The first time at the practice facility…no.  But last night?  Definitely.  All that and more.”

“Fuck, man!  You’re one lucky duck!”

“Speaking of lucky,” Brandon felt bad about what he had to say next.  “I just got a text from the man.  He wants to see me.  So I’m afraid we have to cut this hang-out short.  I’m sorry, man.”

As he studied Jason’s reaction, Brandon could see disappointment momentarily wash over his face before quickly being replaced by an easy going façade.  “It’s okay.  If I had a chance to be with a guy I was totally head over heels in lust for, I’d clear my schedule and spend all day with him.  Hos before bros, right?”

Brandon cocked his eye at Jason.  “Watch it!”

Jason reached over and knocked Brandon on the upper arm with the back of his hand.  “Just playing with you, man!”

Brandon got up off of the sofa and started gathering up his things.  “You’re free to stay here and watch the game if you want.  Mi casa es su casa and whatnot.”

“Nah,” Jason shot back.  “I’ll probably just wolf down a few more chips and then head out.  There are hordes of horny men out there in need of satisfaction.  I’m sure I’ll be able to stumble onto one and let him have his way with me.  Have a good time with your fantasy man!”

“Thanks, bud,” Brandon said as he opened the door.  “See you later!”

“See ya!” Jason called over his shoulder as he pretended to be interested in the college hoops game on TV.

Brandon was almost out the door when he stopped and came back inside.  “Hey, by the way…”

Jason turned his head.  “Yeah?”

“For all of the shit we give each other and the teasing and stuff, I really appreciate you.  It means a lot that you came by here on your way home from the airport just to see how I’m doing.  For real.”

Jason shrugged his shoulders.  “No prob, man.  Your place was on the way.  Besides, you have better food in your cupboards than I do.”

Brandon chuckled.  “With all of this talk about mooching food off of me, you sound like the brother I never asked for.”

“Jeez…” Jason sighed and rolled his eyes.  “And with all of this sappy, emotional yammering you’re doing, you’re starting to sound like the sister *I* never wanted.  Now quit it with all of the daytime talk show chatter and go get your guy!  You don’t want to keep him waiting!”

“Alright, dude.  See you later.”

With that, the door shut and Brandon was gone.  In that instant, Jason sighed heavily, flipped the TV off, pushed a large gust of air past his lips, started fanning himself with his hand, and pulled the collar of his shirt as if giving himself some air.  A few seconds later, he pulled out his own phone and placed a call.  “Hey…  It’s Jason……….Yeah, it turns out those plans I thought I’d have that would tie me up until tomorrow morning fell through…………No.  I didn’t say anything about it.  I chickened out…………I know, I know.  But it’s not meant to be…………Trust me.  I know it’s not.  No amount of following my heart or other meaningless drivel from The Bachelor is going to change that…………….I didn’t call you for a lecture.  All I wanted to say is that I’m free today if you want to get together for some fun………..”  Jason grinned and chuckled at whatever was being said on the other end of the phone.  “……..I like the sound of that.  You know how much it turns me on when you fuck me in the bed you share with your wife………….Okay, Senator.  I’m leaving now.  I’ll be at your place within the hour………..Yes.  I’m definitely open to you doing whatever you need to do to persuade me to support the bill you want passed.”  Jason laughed softly and started pawing at the growing erection in his slacks.  “I’ll see you soon, Dan……Sorry.  I’ll see you soon, SIR….……Bye.”

Jason bit his lip and grunted as he ended the call, stood up and made his way to open the door.  Before walking out, he turned around, looked back inside, sighed heavily, and then left for his rendezvous.

***

Almost half an hour later, Brandon made his way into the hotel lobby.  He was so fuckin’ hungry for the stud coach waiting for him twelve floors up that he almost forgot to text Harding to let him know he’d arrived.  He pulled his phone out and quickly typed as he made his way to the bank of elevators.  “I’m here.  On my way up now.”

As the elevator doors opened and Brandon stepped onto one, Josh’s response came through.  “I’m ready for you.  Can’t wait.”

“I can’t wait either, stud,” Brandon mused to himself in the empty elevator car.  He couldn’t believe his luck.  It’s as if these past few days had been some sort of week-long daydream come true.  He’d had the night of his life with the man of his dreams and the man had asked him back for more.  It was fuckin’ miraculous!

As Brandon approached the door to Room 1204, curiously he noticed it was slightly ajar, held open by the safety bar at the top of the door.  Slowly, he pushed the door open and rapped on it lightly with his knuckle.  “Josh?”

“In here!”  Brandon heard the faint call that sounded like it was coming from the suite’s bedroom, prompting a horny grin.

“The fucker’s already hungry for it!”  Brandon marveled, feeling his cock already on its way to full hardness again.  This was definitely a good sign for the prospects of continuing whatever this was into the future.  He pulled the safety bar back and let the door swing fully shut…but not before hanging the Do Not Disturb sign on the outer doorknob.

When he walked into the bedroom, Brandon stopped short just inside the doorway and almost passed out at the sight that lay in front of him.  The same man who – a week earlier – couldn’t conceive of having anal sex with a man, just last night had shared his first kiss with another guy, and was nervous about getting fucked, was waiting for him on the bed on all fours…his mature muscled ass hiked up and presented for him.  “Dear God in heaven.  Whatever I did to deserve this, I’ll have to make sure to keep doing it if it gets me this!” ran through his mind.

The horny coach turned his head slightly.  “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  Please come and help me pay penance for the impure thoughts I’ve been having.”

“I’m glad you came to me, young Mr. Harding,” Brandon said in the most authoritative and priestly voice he could muster as he practically tore his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor.  “I know exactly how to help you deal with the lustful thoughts in your head.”

He stood there in the middle of the hotel room, looking down his torso to his thick, throbbing, blood-engorged cock already starting to leak.  He looked up at the ceiling and mouthed “thank you!”  Before kneeling on the bed, he reached down to scoop a helping of precum onto his finger.  He scooted up so that his cock lay along the coach’s trench.  Leaning forward, he offered his finger to the older man.  Brandon was gratified and turned on more than he’d been yesterday to see the horny man lean forward and suck Brandon’s precum-covered finger into his mouth, savoring the sexual liquid.

“That’s a good first step to get back on the road to God’s good graces, young Mr. Harding…tasting the nectar of the gods,” Brandon cooed, running his hand through Josh’s short hair.  “But there’s something else you must do.”

“What is it, Father?” Harding moaned out, playing along with wherever Brandon was going to take this.

“You must confess your impure thoughts.”  Brandon began lightly bucking his hips, causing his shaft to run along Harding’s crack, sinking slowly between the muscled ass cheeks.

“Ohhhh, Father,” he groaned.

“Tell me, my child,” Brandon voice was shaky, he was so thoroughly turned on.

“I think about you fucking me.  All day, all night.  Ever since last night, it’s all I can think about.”

For the briefest of moments, Brandon broke the roleplay.  To hear his ultimate fantasy man say those words, made his cock throb and his heart feel like bursting.  That wasn’t roleplay about some priest from Harding’s past.  That was about him.  And damn if he wasn’t going to show Josh just how grateful he was for the trust that the coach was putting in him.

Slipping back into his role, Brandon huskily whispered.  “Just me?”

“You know me too well.  My world’s been opened up.  I want to be fucked by as many men as will have me.”

“Fuuuuuucckkkkk,” Brandon moaned, now bucking his hips with abandon and lost in the lust of the moment.  He regained control of himself and slowed down.  “But I’m the one who this belongs to, right?”  He reached down to smack Harding’s right ass cheek and kneaded it.

“GOD YES!” Josh practically screamed.  “It’s all yours, Brandon.  It’s always yours!”

Once again lost in fuck lust, Brandon leaned down and licked along Harding’s earlobe.  “And my cock is all yours, Josh.”

Breaking the roleplay fully, Josh craned his neck to try and look at Brandon.  “It’s fucking amazing how far I’ve come in just a week.  I feel like a completely different person than I used to be.”

Brandon raised back up into a kneeling position, his legs straddling the 59-year old’s body.  “Different good or different bad?”

Josh laughed.  “Man, from all that moaning I’ve been doing, what do YOU think?”

“I think you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, Josh Harding.  Normally, I feel like I’m in control of myself and I’m in the driver’s seat.  But everything about you – but especially your incredible ass – has me willing to do anything and everything just to have access to it as often as you’ll let me.”

“Funny,” Josh remarked.  “I’ve been thinking the same thing about your dick.  I’m kind of addicted to you, Brandon Davies.”

“Ungh,” Brandon grunted before lightly pulling on Harding’s hair to raise his head up.  “You know just how to get me going like you wouldn’t believe.”

Brandon leaned down and met Josh in a passionate, tongue-powered kiss.  The two men made out like that for at least ten minutes before Brandon finally, mercifully slid into the coach’s now well-worn hole for the fourth time in the past nearly 24 hours.

Yes, there were ground rules.  But as Brandon lay against the headboard, looking at the dozing man lying next to him later that evening, he had a feeling that now that Josh Harding had been shown enough of a new way of living that he’d be willing to break his own rules as often as he found himself unbearably hungry for Brandon’s cock.  Brandon reached over to push the short hair off of Harding’s forehead and thought about leaning down to claim a kiss from the sleeping man.  Like he’d thought to himself earlier, whatever he’d done to deserve this man coming into his life, he wanted to keep on doing it to keep the 59-year old by his side.

THE END.

As far as you talk dirty.

-I still can’t believe I’ve lived such a horny day with you, Donald. I’ve cum and cum and cum and I’m still hard and willing to cum as often as you want. As far as you talk dirty, I will only want sex with this sexy Donald Escalante.

He was telling me all that as we ate our fried fish, but he continued.

-I’m just wondering how far you wanna get with me, Donald.

-Clement, today I’ve seen, say, a crack of your brain and through it there has come a light of courage and that vision has turned me on much more than a girl could one day arouse me. If I keep on seeing a courageous Clement Escalante, I’d rather choose you for sex after now for I think you want the same. So I don’t know how far I wanna get with you: a fuck buddy maybe? At least what I really know is that I wanna go on.

-Is it love, Donald?

-Not that I know of, Clement. It’s just the certainty that it’s only you that I need in sex.

-Keep on talking dirty. I’d love to have a masculine buddy as a partner, more a dude like you, but I need your insolent attitude, maybe not to be challenged anymore but because it really makes me horny.

-So you won’t behave as a pussy after now, Clement, will you?

-Not any more -and suddenly my hot father really started to fuck himself on my dick. He’d done it so unexpectedly that I didn’t know how he’d been able to leave his chair and push my dick in his ass so quickly.

-So you need a brave Clement, isn’t it? So now you have it. Push as deep as you can. Your attitude has burnt me so much today that it isn’t even hurting me and anyhow you will also fuck Clement after now and please, also after now whenever we’re alone at home, I want to always be just Clement for you. If it’s a masculine fuck buddy that you need, here’s one masculine fuck buddy for you, one masculine ass to shag.

I went totally crazy with lust now. I had never known so far how it was this: a boy I could fuck, what I really needed in sex. And my father showing me no pain in his first time being fucked made me burn in utter lust.

-After now, you’ll fuck Clement every day, Donald. There can be nobody sexier for me than you. I’ll need this insolent brave son to fuck daily and also to fuck me daily. I want to give you at least one daily blowjob and to get at least one blowjob a day from you. I need to kiss you, to touch you, to see you naked, what else do you want, Donald?

He was talking as he moaned with my dick up his ass. He was loving it just as I had loved before being fucked. Of course we touched everything of each other and constantly kissed.

-Don’t know what else I need, Clement, maybe sleeping together?

-I find it perfect, Donald, provided we don’t sleep together one day and not do the same the next day. And I’d like more sex in bed.

-And kisses and touching, yeah, and sleeping naked.

-Perfect, Donald, my sexy fuck buddy after now.

-Good, so now I’m cumming.

For the first time I was sure that Clement’s ass was mine after now when I filled it with my spunk.

-So now will you chicken out to be in bed having sex with your son now every night, Clement?

-I’ll show you the courage you’ve made me find today, Donald. I’ll be your new horny fuck buddy.

So at last we headed to our bed, in my former room, and there we started as lovers must start, a long time first rubbing our naked bodies with the second life our four hands had discovered that day of touching absolutely everything of each other and constantly kissing. It was then that Clement Escalante turned and showed me his ass and told me.

-Come on, man, fuck this ass of mine again.

-Yeah -I said when I was already inside his gorgeous bum-, this is the ass I should pierce daily.

-That lecherous dick you have, so sexy and arousing, should always pierce as many holes as it can, but I hope it enters this hole of mine daily. That’s what my ass was made for but I’ve only known it today.

How it drove me crazy to hear that brave man’s brave words. All the sex we’d had today had been good for him to find his courage and now he’d show it to me daily.

After a quarter of an hour fucking him, I also turned and told him to fuck me.

-Give that dick of yours a good use again. Now you know what your dick is for. Shag this hole!

-I could live many years now and never find a hotter hole to stick my dick in. Clement Escalante’s your new fuck buddy.

And then minutes later he irrigated his son’s crack again. Then we slept.

That’s my new fuck buddy, my new lover, Clement Escalante, my father. Soon later he bought a new car. But finally I got my driving license and often drive my father’s car before I can buy a new one. But he just remembers where the destruction of his former car led to. Then he smiles at me and never reproaches me.

Quinn drove along State Road 24, a four-lane highway that ran from somewhere west of Fayetteville all the way to the coast, almost to Morehead City. He was going nowhere near that far. Driving around Autryville, his drive was nearly over. One more small town to bypass and five more miles and he would turn off and head north to Deer Springs, a small farming community anchored by a church and volunteer fire department. Typically of the region it was made up of small farms, a scattering of homes on large parcels, and a mobile home park nestled into the woods backing up to the swamp to the east. On the north side of the community was his parent’s home, a modest brick ranch house on ten acres with the two barns lined up behind it and one of his dad’s fields running along the south side of the property.

He had not been to visit in over six months, busy with construction projects in Charlotte, a city growing at an impossible rate. He worked with Catawba Electric, a small family-owned company doing electrical installations in new construction, currently one apartment complex after the next. The repetitive nature of it was maddening at times, but it let him fall into a rhythm that allowed him to think about other things while pulling wire or installing j-boxes or setting a load center cabinet. To think about his life in Charlotte, able to go out with other men, hang out in a bar or brewery, or just ride his bicycle with some of the guys.

Other times he imagined where his life would be if he had stayed on the farm. His dad had offered, knowing two incomes was hard enough with his older brother already farming with their dad. But to try to squeeze three out of it would have been impossible and truth be told, he didn’t want to farm. He enjoyed certain aspects of it, but the things he didn’t like overwhelmed that enjoyment. Being gay and wanting to live as such where he could meet others and have a social life also meant leaving Deer Springs and the farm.

When he had talked to his dad about doing something other than farming, his dad had encouraged him to go to one of the major universities in the region, but he had enrolled at the community college over near Clinton and two years later took a job in Charlotte with Catawba Electric.  

He smiled at his luck, doing a job he enjoyed and earning a decent wage, the last pay raise allowing him to buy a 3-year-old truck. He still rented, just outside Charlotte in Mount Holly, but he was close enough to the city that going out was not a problem. He just hadn’t met the right one. A guy he could see himself living with for the rest of his life. He had no problem getting a date, guys all the time hitting on him in one of the bars or messaging him on one of the hookup sites, but none were looking for something long range, a serious relationship that would lead to sharing a home and a life. But he was in no hurry for he was only twenty-two, and a glance in the mirror was a reminder he was still young and attractive. He was six-foot tall with a lean muscular build that made him feel good and like a man, unlike his high school years when he was a skinny teenager, long armed and long legged, and so uncoordinated he never dared try out for sports.

But he knew most of the guys in high school had been the same in some way. Imperfect, not yet men. It was true of Brice Collins, the person that had been his best friend since kindergarten, the guy he had done everything with until he fucked it up in the eleventh grade. He pictured Brice, from when he had been just a skinny teenager too, but shorter, about five foot eight, but to him so cute it took his breath away. The dark hair that was thick and wavy and the greenish-gray eyes that had such depth unlike his own dark brown eyes. It was during the summer between eleventh and twelfth grades that a physical change occurred, Brice coming back to school with a muscular body. A lean muscular body that changed things for Brice. Gained him attention by some of the popular girls and inclusion with the jocks. It had been another widening between them, one that hurt more than he could ever admit.

Quinn knew what drove Brice to work out, to build up his muscles, and it had been his clumsy approach the night he kissed him. He had just known Brice was into him as he was him, but he had been wrong, thus ending their friendship. Being hit on made Brice question his sense of masculinity. Quinn had seen it, this fear that something about himself signaled gayness, that some aspect of his personality was different. Brice never stopped to think that being attractive and familiar was enough.

Quinn saw the sign for the business district for Roseboro and he glanced at his watch seeing it was nearly one. He was going to be even later in his trip, but he finished sooner than he had anticipated and headed out mid-morning. It was not far to his old home, but it was the weekend of his parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary, and he didn’t want his mother to fuss over him preparing a late lunch, so he merged into the right turn lane to drive into Roseboro. He was so hungry he was running through all the places he could grab lunch. The fast-food joint right on 24, or the pizza place before it, or the deli at Edgewood Shopping Center just past it. But he knew as soon as he thought of Julia’s Diner downtown that was where he was heading.

 

 

Quinn sat in a booth near the back of the dining room, sweat tea glass in front of him and his order placed with the waitress. He leaned back, stretched his legs, then surveyed the room, noting the ones he recognized. Susan Richards (or that was her maiden name) with two women he didn’t know, Mr. Hanks at the front window with his youngest son, Jerry, or Jeremy, or something like that, and at a table on the opposite side, Mr. and Mrs. Gibson eating dessert. Quinn turned his attention back to Mr. Hanks and his son, looking at the boy realizing he had to be sixteen, maybe even seventeen. What was it like for him? Did he fit in, was he part of the popular groups, or did he isolate himself, keep apart from the others. Quinn was projecting and he chastised himself for it, turning away in time to see his food being brought to him.

Nearly finished, Quinn looked up when someone came into the diner. It was Brice. Dirty jeans, a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off revealing muscular biceps, and a ballcap that was frayed and dirty. Obviously, Brice had come from one of their fields for a late lunch. Quinn watched as discreetly as he could, at times from the corner of his eyes, as Brick pulled his cap off revealing matted down dark hair, cut short on the sides, shorter than Quinn had ever seen it, and there were sideburns leading down to an unshaven face. Quinn looked at Brice, how he didn’t look like a teenager but like a man, and his longing for him resurfaced, painfully, making his heart race.

“Check please,” said Quinn to the waitress as she walked by.

 

 

12:35 AM.

Quinn sat at his desk in his old room, one that served double duty as a sewing room for his mom and a guest room for when Quinn or other family came to visit. It was crowded, the bed pushed against one wall and his desk tucked into a corner and no matter how he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, it surprised him to think it was no longer his room. The only personal effects of his from his grade school years were on the desk. A row of novels, ticket stubs from concerts in Raleigh, a photograph album with shots he had taken at the Outer Banks or in the mountains back west or down in Florida when he was fifteen. He pulled his laptop from his backpack and set it up. He surfed the news and then social media looking at posts by his friends back in Charlotte. Without thinking, he hit the ‘Friends’ tab on the side of the screen and saw those looking to be confirmed, then the suggestions, those that he might know. The first one was Brice Collins.

Brice’s page opened and Quinn saw the photographs of Brice, standing an old CJ5, with his parents, and with Amanda Kahler, his girlfriend since their senior year. Then he saw the photographs of the siblings, Jessica, Benny, and Lily. He closed the page without really looking at the photographs, knowing it was stupid to dwell on the lost friendship.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did Brice still hold a grudge, and for a kiss. Just a kiss. It’s not like he groped him or tried to get a hand down inside his pants. And he never told anyone what happened, letting Brice tell his version of why they were no longer friends. Was Brice bigoted against gays, or was it just him?

It was maddening.

He pulled up his email account and tried to remember Brice’s. It had been over five years since he used it, and back then all he had to do was type the first letter and it came up.

BCollins256?

BCollins235?

BCollins356?

The last one, he was sure of it.

Hitting ‘compose’ a blank email came up and he typed in the email address, the one he was sure belonged to Brice.

Brice.

I saw you today at Julia’s Diner.

What to say, and how?

Are you still angry with me? I’ll say I’m sorry again if it helps. I don’t like how things ended with us and I never meant to insinuate you were gay. You were there for me so often and I felt so drawn to you because of it, it blinded me to the reality that for you it was just friendship.

Can he ask Brice to meet? Should he and if so, shouldn’t he tell Brice to bring Amanda. He knows Brice never told her about the kiss back in high school. He didn’t tell anyone. Everyone thought they had a fight about something neither wanted to discuss, and Brice had made it seem like a betrayal of some sort.

Can we meet?

Quinn.

That’s how he ended it after erasing sentence after sentence. There was nothing to say, not until Brice showed a willingness to meet. He hit ‘send’ and closed his laptop. He got from the desk and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

 

 

The next morning, Quinn had breakfast with his parents, then refilled his coffee cup and went back to his old room. With the door closed, he pulled up his laptop. He went straight to his email account and saw there were six messages. Three emails were spam, two were from friends asking if he made it alright, and one was from BCollins356. For a few seconds he let his fingers hover over the keys, almost afraid to open the email. Then he tapped the key like it was hot and watched it open.

Quinn, I was surprised to hear from you. It has been some time since what happened? How do you feel about it?

It was vague, noncommittal and Quinn felt so frustrated by it he started to just discard it and close his laptop. What was Brice playing at? All he had thought about since that night is how it made him feel. What the fuck does Brice mean? Is he looking for an opportunity to renew old grudges?

Quinn hit ‘reply’ and let his fingers hover over the keyboard wondering what tone to take in his response. How far could he push Brice and was there a limit. It’s not like things could be worse between them.

What do you want to know? It was pretty obvious that night how you felt. Disgust comes to mind, and a threat to kick my ass if I mentioned it.

How do I feel about it? Honestly, still confused about why you freaked out. Seriously, it was just a fucking kiss. I’m sorry to have bothered you.

Was it too blunt? Quinn reread what he had typed out and couldn’t bring himself to change it. He hit ‘send’ and closed his laptop expecting never to hear from Brice again.

 

 

Quinn came into his bedroom wiping his face with his t-shirt as sweat continued to bead up and trickle down his face and torso. He had mowed his parents’ lawn including the area around the barns, then still feeling frustrated, he pulled out his old bicycle and took off for a ride. He rode north all the way to Bonnetsville Road then east, not turning until in the center of Bonnetsville. It consisted of a convenience store and an auto repair shop surrounded by a cluster of homes. From there, he rode south all the way to Elizebeth Street, finally turning west to circle back.

Now he stood in his room feeling his heart beating rapidly and the heat of his body, and how it helped with his frustration. He no longer felt ire at Brice. He just wanted to forget about him, enjoy his time with his parents, then head back to Charlotte to resume his life.

He wanted a cool shower but knew he needed to cool down first or he would get out and start to sweat again. He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, wondering what his friends back in Charlotte were doing that night. He knew it was Jason’s birthday party and everyone was supposed to go. While they partied at the Irish pub he would be celebrating his parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary. The screen came on and he clicked on his emails. One from Jason, Ryan, and BCollins356.

“Fuck.”

Quinn stared at the email, then clicked on the one from Jason. After reading it, he clicked on the one from Ryan, seeing it mirrored what Jason had written. He regretted missing the party, for he knew everyone would have a good time. Then he clicked on BCollins356, holding his breath as it popped up on the screen.

 I’m sorry for I didn’t mean to seem flippant. You asked before if we could meet. Yes, I think it’s time.

I know you have your parents’ anniversary party tonight. How about lunch tomorrow? There is a new restaurant in Clinton right across from the courthouse on Wall St. Cherokee Purple, after a regional tomato variety, I think. Meet me there at 11:45.

Flippant? What was Brice thinking. It’s like he forgot what happened and how he reacted.

“Asshole,” Quinn uttered under his breath, not really meaning it. He was actually glad Brice replied and didn’t seem as angry. More like he was confused about everything. He hit ‘reply’ and started typing.

The place and time are good for me. I’ll see you there. Quinn.

 

 

Quinn drove by the restaurant and smiled at how he couldn’t miss it. The front was painted bright purple, and the sign was yellow trimmed in red. Through the storefront with its low sill, not more than a foot high, he could see tables and chairs with white table clothes each side of the entry. All the parking spaces along the block were occupied so he drove straight down to the next block where he was able to park in the last space on the street.

Walking back up the block, he tucked his T-shirt into his jeans smiling at how he had ironed a white dress shirt to wear. He had it neatly ironed when he realized he was thinking of lunch as a date and embarrassed by his foolishness, hung the shirt up in his closet and pulled out the T-shirt. He crossed Main Street and strolled past the restaurant on the corner with its outdoor seating area railed off on the sidewalk, the jewelry store, two empty storefronts, and a barbershop.

He entered the restaurant looking around at the light-yellow walls with artwork on each one and a high suspended ceiling that gave the look of an old tin one. Tables at the front windows, then down both walls, all of them four tops, and he scanned them looking for Brice.

“How many?” asked a waitress.

“Two. I’m waiting for someone who doesn’t seem to be here yet.”

“We can go ahead and seat you; this way.”

She led Quinn down the right side to a table near the back, and he took a seat facing the front so he could watch for Brice.

Quinn checked his watch. 11:46 AM. Brice was only a minute late, nothing to worry about, but he fiddled nervously with his napkin then fork all the while keeping his eyes on the entrance.

11:51 AM.

11:57 AM

He’s not coming, Quinn thought as he debated on whether to leave or just eat alone. He looked back searching for his waitress. He watched the two at the drink station, then looked at the door to the kitchen wondering when she would come out. Then he heard the front door open and turned to see if it was Brice.

“Shit.”

Quinn uttered it under his breath and hoped no one heard him. Standing at the front looking around the room was a tall lean boy, or that is how he considered him, for it wasn’t Brice, but Benny, his brother.

Benny finally saw him and headed his way. Quinn felt embarrassed by the realization it was Benny, not Brice, he had been trading messages. Benny. The kid brother. The last time he saw Benny, he was fourteen years old and just some tall skinny kid. Coming toward him was the same person, but even taller, a bit more filled out, but still lanky in build. And he had darker hair than Brice, jet black, and thick and wavy. As Benny drew near, Quinn noticed the dark brown eyes and the good humored expression that made him nervous.

“Hey, Quinn.”

“Benny; what are you doing here?”

“Can I sit?”

Quinn shook his head, wondering what was going to happen. “Sure; sit.”

Benny sat opposite, leaning forward with forearms stretched out, and Quinn couldn’t stop sizing him up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Quinn.

Benny smiled. “That you were messaging me instead of my brother.”

Quinn sat back and laughed, feeling foolish and defeated. By a kid.

“I’m the one you should be talking to, not my brother.”

“What?”

“Look, Brice isn’t like he had been back in high school, and you should talk to him. Renew your friendship. I know he would want that.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I know when that kiss happened. It was Saturday night, March the sixteenth. After a shower of rain the day before, it was cool, down in the forties that night, and my brother, Brice Collins came home and rushed into his room at eight o’clock, where he stayed until lunch the next day.”

“You remember that?”

“Yes, because the next day, I came out to him. I can’t really say why, but it seemed important at the time.”

“What did he say?”

“That I was wrong. I wasn’t gay, then refused to discuss it further.”

Quinn could picture it, the look of shear terror and disgust that Brice had displayed after the kiss, and he wondered if Benny had gotten the same expression.

“Brice began to hang out with different people and toward the end of the school year began to work out, a lot.”

“Yeah, I remember what he looked like when we returned to school for our senior year. Does he still…have you talked about you being gay since then?”

“Yes. It was during the summer. He told me it was okay, and he wouldn’t tell anyone, but it didn’t matter, that little pledge of silence, for I came out to my friends before school started and the next October, I told our parents.”

“Wow.”

“Have you told your parents?”

“Yes. Right after graduation.”

Quinn looked at Benny. Saw him lean back and stretch out those long legs until a foot brushed against his right foot and he moved it away.

“And you’re the one I should be talking to?” said Quinn.

“Yeah…I’m the Collins that is gay, not Brice.”

“But you’re a kid.”

“I’ve graduated high school, turned eighteen back in July, and will start college in the fall…in Charlotte,” said Benny, smiling with a certain smug satisfaction.

“Charlotte? You’re going to-“

“Yep. Studying Architecture. I’ve been registered since the end of my tenth-grade year and got officially accepted after they reviewed my grades.”

“Must be pretty good grades.”

“Four-point-oh.”

“That is…damn, are you serious?”

Benny laughed. “Yes.”

Quinn couldn’t imagine such a grade point average. His wasn’t bad, but nowhere near perfect.

“Let’s order lunch and talk,” said Benny.

“Okay, but I’m not going out with Brice’s little brother.”

“You really need to let that go.”

“Excuse me, we’re ready to order,” Quinn called out, ignoring him.

 

 

For two nights after lunch with Benny, Quinn did what he promised himself he wouldn’t do. What he told Benny wouldn’t happen. He thought of it. Every quiet moment, during the movie he tried to watch with his parents, walking around the property with his father and Lamar, his brother, or when laying in bed trying to fall asleep. He pictured Benny, now eighteen, soon to be in college. He pictured the tall, lean build, the jet-black hair, the dark brown eyes, and the dimples when he smiled, the hands with their long fingers, and the slightly long neck. He remembered the way Benny moved, gestured with his hand, or smiled during an awkward moment.

What would Brice say if Benny and he went out? He couldn’t imagine it. Brice would be furious with him, accuse him of taking advantage of his little brother.

 

 

With plans to leave the next morning, Quinn went for a drive, pulling out after breakfast in his dad’s old work truck, a Ford F250 that was twenty-eight years old. It was blue with darker blue side panels and had a manual transmission. With the windows down, the early morning was warm but not unpleasant. It rumpled and billowed his T-shirt as he drove down one road then another, eventually driving past his old high school that was north of town, then he turned heading south until he was in town. He cruised down Roseboro Street, through the small downtown, then circled around the south side of town heading back east.

Eventually he found himself coming to the Collins’ place. He slowed as he drove by their brick ranch house, looking to see what vehicles may be parked in back as he passed the drive. He came to their barns and saw a pickup parked in front of the larger barn, which was nothing more than a pole supported roof with no walls. Under the roof, there was a large flat bed truck, a tractor, a combine, and Brice Collins standing at the back of it.

Without thinking, Quinn hit the brakes and turned into the drive, easing to the barn where he parked just out from the combine. Brice watched him from the shade of the barn while he got out and strolled toward him trying to figure out what to say.

“Quinn.”

Brice’s voice gave no indication of how he felt, or what he might say next.

“Hey Brice, I saw you and…can we talk?”

“It’s about what happened?”

“Yeah, and, look, I’m sorry. I know I should have said it before but…doesn’t matter now. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Benny said he met you for lunch.”

“What? No! I mean, yes, but I thought it was you. I had emailed and –“

“Quinn. Quinn, I know. The little bastard tricked you into showing up,” said Brice and he smiled, then laughed. “I would have given anything to see the look on your face when that brother of mine walked into that restaurant.”

“You knew he tricked me?”

“Oh yeah. He came back grinning from ear to ear, so I made him tell me what he had done. Actually, I think he couldn’t wait to tell me.”

“I’m not going to go out with him. I promise.”

“Quinn, look, it freaked me out when you kissed me, but I’m over it. I’m not holding a grudge or ill feelings, and truth be told I wanted to call you and tell you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I figured you had gotten mad at me for the way I responded. The way you looked at me when we returned for our senior year. I just knew you were so angry.”

Quinn kicked at the ground and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t angry. I was scared. Scared to death you were going to out me.”

“I can see how you might have thought that, but Quinn, I wouldn’t have done that to you no matter how angry I had been.”

“Is it a problem now?”

“What? With you being gay?” Brice laughed, shaking his head. “My little brother would kick my ass if I were. And no, it isn’t a problem.”

“I’m heading back to Charlotte in the morning but what about we get together for dinner. You and Amanda and me. I hear you’re engaged.”

“Yep, and the wedding is next April. We can talk about it during dinner. Let’s go up to Vicksburg to this new place in town.”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you guys come by mom and dads about five and we can ride together.”

“Okay.”

“Well, I’ll be going and let you get back to work.”

Quinn went to his dad’s truck, swung the door open and was about to climb in.

“Hey Quinn.”

“Yes?”

“It would be okay, if you wanted to.”

“Wanted to? What?”

“Go out with Benny.”

“—”

“I know this may sound crazy, but he’s not a little kid. He’s taller than both of us and…if you were to want to go out with him, I would be okay with it.”

“I, huh, thanks…I think.”

“Just putting that out there.”

Quinn chuckled, then looked up at Brice. “Yeah, Brice, whatever.”

 

 

Quinn drove along one narrow two-lane highway after the next after circling Fayetteville and keeping to a due west heading. It would take longer than if he had gone south to 74, a four-lane highway, but he was in no hurry. The extra time gave him the opportunity to think, to replay dinner with Brice and Amanda and how it had been better than he could have hoped.

It was Amanda who told him that Brice had regretted his reaction soon after it happened, but his acceptance of someone being gay took some time and happened mostly due to Benny. Since then, Brice had not been reactive to anyone who was different, not the kids that showed up in dark clothing and tattoos at the steakhouse and lounge, not the guys who hung out at the coffee shop or burger joint on the east side of town, immersed in their role-playing games, or the guys who were gay that hung out with Benny.

Quinn smiled at the idea of Benny having a few gay guys over and Brice hanging out with them.

Benny.

“It would be okay, if you wanted to.”

“Go out with Benny.”

It seemed surreal replaying Brice saying it was okay to ask Benny out. Did he know Benny had already asked him out and hadn’t taken no as an answer.

Would it be so strange to go out with Benny? There were only four years between them. There were a lot of couples in Charlotte with a greater age difference. There were three years between his mom and dad, and his maternal grandparents had eight years between them. But Benny was Brice’s little brother, picturing all the times Benny had tried to hang out with them, and Brice telling him he was too young, just a little kid.

Quinn chuckled to himself at the reference. Little kid. Brice was five foot eight or nine, something he had noticed when he had grown to six foot tall and Benny had to be six foot four inches tall, for it was apparent when they had left the restaurant. Benny’s height seemed even more pronounced by his lean build.

And he was cute, cuter than Brice if he was honest. It was the black hair, darker, truer black than Brice’s, and the dark brown eyes, and the dimples when he smiled, or smirked when something dumb had been said.

Brice’s little brother.

Benny.

Cutting through Uwharrie National Forest on 27, Quinn had himself worked up, wondering if he was crazy for considering it, then wondering why he was fretting over it. He went over the Pee Dee River, the expansion joints a steady rhythm until back on solid ground and smooth asphalt, telling himself he would just wait and see if Benny tried to contact him again, or if it was just a short-lived infatuation that was probably already forgotten.

 

 

Sitting on the tailgate of Mr. Simpson’s truck, their boss on the site, Quinn opened his lunch box and took out one of two sandwiches he made that morning and the zip lock bag of chips. He began to eat, looking up at the five-story apartment complex where they were doing a wiring job. The job site was quiet, most contractors on their lunch break, but he could see a couple of guys moving around on the second floor, one pointing at one wall or another while the other followed with a roll of drawings.

His phone chimed with a message, and he took it out of his pocket and slid his finger across the screen to open it. It was from Brice.

How’s it going? I guess you’re back on a job site. Have you spoken to Benny? He moved into the dorm yesterday.

“Damn,” Quinn uttered under his breath, smiling at how Brice was pushing him to go out with Benny. He set his sandwich down and typed a quick reply.

Good and yes, back at work. I have not spoken to Benny.

He had just set the phone down and picked up his sandwich when it chimed again.

Call him. His number is ___-___-____.

Quinn laughed, took a bite of his sandwich, then typed a reply.

Okay, maybe this weekend.

The reply was quick, as if Brice expected his response.

Why wait?

Quinn replied with the truth, knowing he should have made up some excuse.

I’m still not sure it is a good idea to ask out Brice’s little brother. 😊.

Holding the phone up, Quinn waited for the reply he knew was soon coming. His phone chimed and he opened the message.

I’ll have him call you.

Quinn just shook his head and slipped his phone back in his pocket, not daring to reply. He had less than fifteen minutes left of his half hour lunch, and he focused on eating.

 

 

Quinn drove down 74, the old four lane highway that ran parallel to the interstate. The interstate was impossible this time of day, even though he got off at four, not five. He switched radio stations looking for one playing music in lieu of talking nonsense. Once again, it made him reconsider satellite radio. He crossed the Catawba River on the old narrow bridge, accelerated up the grade then slowed as he came into traffic. Turning on Park Street seeing the fast-food joints along the roadside, he wondered what to do for dinner. He had leftovers from the night before and just wanted to get home, so he kept driving. When he drove over the interstate he looked at the backed-up traffic below glad he hadn’t taken it.  

As he passed the hospital’s rehab center his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but he did know the area code, one from back home. One that Benny would have.

“Hello.”

“Hey Quinn, it’s Benny. Brice told me to stop waiting on you to call and just do it myself.”

“Benny, yeah, hey.”

“Are you heading home from work?”

“Yes, almost there,” Quinn replied, slowing to turn right.

“I’m just hanging out at the dorm until classes start on Monday.”

“Monday.”

“Yep, classes start on Monday. Quinn, tomorrow is Friday. Do you have any plans?”

“Plans…I…huh…no, no plans.”

“Will you go to dinner with me. I could come that way, maybe meet in Belmont. One of the guys on the floor said there were a couple of good places in downtown.”

“Yes, there is.”

“How about that sports bar, the one across from the bookstore? Bryan says it is good and has a nice atmosphere.”

“I guess…yes, okay. What time works for you?”

“Let’s meet at seven. I’ll come on over and browse in the bookstore and check out the town until then.”

“That will give me time to get home, rest a bit, and get cleaned up.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

The connection ended. It felt like Benny wanted to end the call quickly, probably to prevent him from changing his mind. He slowed when coming up on the entry to the marina complex, turning left to stay on Tuckaseege Road and after a short distance, another left into the apartment complex that he called home.

Engine shut off; Quinn just sat behind the wheel staring straight ahead. He wasn’t paying attention to anything in front of him, too lost in thought about what he was about to do. He was going to meet Benny for dinner on a Friday night.

It was a date.

He smiled despite his reservations.

“What are you doing Quinn Sanders?”

He climbed out and headed to his apartment. He would eat dinner, watch a little television, then go to bed early. If he got up earlier than usual, he could get finished with the floor of the apartment building by two or three o’clock, letting him leave early.

 

 

Quinn squirmed in the booth again, shifting uncomfortably, tugging on the crotch of his jeans. He tried to focus on what Benny was saying, something about his class schedule for the fall term, but all Quinn could think about was Brice’s little brother was sitting across from him. It didn’t make sense, especially thinking of Benny as little. Six foot four, four inches taller than his own six foot. It was crazy, Benny Collins wasn’t a kid, and ever since that lunch back in Clinton he had to keep reminding himself of this fact. It wasn’t so hard to do when Benny was before him. He looked at the dark brown eyes, the jet-black hair, and how Benny kept pushing it out of his face, at times revealing earrings in each lobe. There were the long fingers of each hand, perfect musician hands and he wondered if Benny still played the piano. He knew there had been lessons for both boys, but Brice had quit in the nineth grade, and he wondered if Benny had given up on them at some point.

“Quinn?”

“OH, I’m sorry, what was it you were saying?”

“I asked if you wanted to come to the football game next weekend. It’s a home game.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go.”

What was he thinking? Just falling in with Benny with such ease, and he had to admit he wanted to go with him to the football game, or to a concert, or just out to eat. He found himself relating to him, enjoying their time together over dinner, now waiting for their dessert to be served.

Looking around the room at the other patrons out on a Friday night, he felt a part of them, all dressed pretty much the same. Jeans for the most part, and simple shirts or T-shirts, all very casual and relaxed. But across the table, Benny made him feel underdressed. A bit shabby, if he was honest, for Benny wore a banded collar pullover, solid white, with black jeans that accentuated the long legs and narrow waist, and black boots with soles far thicker than Benny Collins would ever need. He knew Benny was trying to make a good impression, not intimidate him. But he did feel intimidated. With the way Benny was dressed and by his natural good looks. And the smile, one that made him smile easily in return despite his nervousness.

Fuck, he thought to himself, wanting so much more from this first official date.

“Hey, you want to go back to my place and watch television or something?” asked Quinn.

Benny smiled, leaned forward with elbows on the table. “I’d love to come over. I honestly didn’t think you would ask.”

“I didn’t either,” Quinn confessed as they sat back to let the waiter place their desserts before them.

 

 

Benny followed Quinn, up the stairs, and through the door into his apartment. Flipping the light on, he felt embarrassed at how his place looked. The only thing on the wall was a flag for the Carolina Panthers over the sofa and a picture his mother gave him of a mountain scene hung over the small dining table. There were no photographs, no mementos of vacations or silly knickknacks on the tables. The only thing that gave any sense of personality was the bookcase next to the console for the television. It held the one thing he loved to do when alone; read. There were novels of the Sci-fi genre, dystopian future storylines, and gay storylines, of men coming out, of men having relationships, stories he could get lost in, imagining himself in such situations.

Benny went straight to the bookcase and scanned the shelves. He pulled out one of Quinn’s favorite books, flipping it open to the inside jacket cover with the story description.

“I’ve not seen this book, but it looks good.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“Can I borrow it?”

“Sure.”

The book was carried to the dining table so Benny wouldn’t forget it.

“You want something to drink?”

“No. Can we just sit and talk a minute.”

“Sure,” Quinn replied, feeling his stomach knot up, wondering what Benny would want to talk about, and would it be too serious after just one date. He eased down on the sofa, right up against the left arm and Benny sat next to him, close but not touching.

“I enjoyed dinner,” said Benny.

“I did too.”

“Do you enjoy my company?”

“Yes…why?”

“You seem standoffish. I’m not sure if you are still struggling with me being Brice’s brother, or if-“

“Yes, I mean…well, I do keep picturing you as his kid brother, but not as much as before. I’m beginning to think of you as someone who I find attractive, and…”

And what? Quinn didn’t know where to begin.

“You find me attractive?”

“Of course.”

A hand came down on Quinn’s knee.

“Do you look at me sexually?”

“I…yes,” Quinn replied, and even he could hear how pathetic he sounded.

“I’ve always thought you were cute and imagined doing all the things two guys could do. Go on dates, travel together, go to a game or a concert, or sleeping together,” said Benny sliding the hand up Quinn’s thigh.

“Oh,” Quinn uttered as fingers touched him, grazed the denim fabric right over his cock. His heart was racing, and he wanted to tell Benny to stop. He wanted to tell Benny to keep going, not to stop, not for anything.

“Can I stay tonight?”

The voice was different. Deeper, huskier, seductive, and Quinn felt the hand tugging on his shirt, pulling it from his jeans. He leaned back, submissively, letting the shirt be pulled free and the hand slipped beneath it, touching his stomach, then rubbing upward over his chest, across hardening nipples. Lips touched his neck, tugged softly on his earlobe, then moved along his jaw and he turned to them, bringing their lips together. They kissed. They kissed slowly, with passion and desire as Benny moved over Quinn’s lap, legs folded either side of him.

“You can’t say no to me,” Benny whispered.

Quinn didn’t know if it was a statement of fact or if it was a command, something he wasn’t to do. He knew both were true.

 

 

Quinn didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what Benny would want, but he found himself laying back on his bed, naked, cock so hard it hovered over his stomach. Standing between his legs, Benny stood just as naked, stroking a long cock and he watched the hand move from the arrow shaped head down the shaft to its base.

He looked at the tall lean body, a teenager maturing into a man. He looked at the nipples, how they stood out on the chest, and below the flat stomach and narrow waist.

“What do you prefer?” asked Benny.

Quinn couldn’t find the words, so he showed Benny. He raised his legs, held each behind the knee, spreading himself open before him. He was panting and his heart raced in his chest. Benny smiled and he felt his cock flex with his arousal, then drool its slick until pooled on his abdomen.

“Horny bastard,” Benny joked, then moved on him, took each leg, and pushed forward and down until thighs pressed against Quinn’s chest.

Cock was raked across Quinn’s ass, then pushed up along the perineum then over the tightening sac and by the hard cock. Benny pumped it slowly, letting it rub against Quinn’s until it left a slick trail over the abdomen. Then he pushed it down and pumped it along the perineum and over the tight opening, pumping, pumping, until Quinn reached for it and held it against his tight opening.

“Benny…please…”

Benny breached Quinn’s tightness. Slowly, pushing inch after inch through it. Benny penetrated Quinn making a connection between them with cock buried in ass, and he began to slow fuck. To tug outward, then push inward with a slowly building pace. A slow fuck became a fast one. Hands pushed down on legs. Cock thrust into the depths of the ass, all the way until hips smack against it.

“Fuck…fuck…don’t stop,” utters Quinn breathlessly.

The bed begins to rock, to squeak, then bang against the wall, its rhythm matching the rhythm of their fuck. The sound of it echoes in the small bedroom, matched by the sound of hips smacking against ass, and Quinn’s soft pleadings and obscene utterances.

Benny pulls out and Quinn feels the emptiness and has to force himself not to yell out NO! He’s manhandled into a different position, flipped to his stomach and legs kicked apart. Cock rubs his ass, up and down, and he raises it up for Benny to penetrate. He wants it so badly he is clutching the bed and burying his face into it to keep from crying out, begging Benny to do it. He knows Benny can’t keep it up, not this teasing of his ass, and soon enough the cock aligns with his opening and bores into his depths, all the way, for what seems an impossible depth, and he takes it, every goddamn inch.

Benny fucks. Fucks hard. Cock is pushed into Quinn’s depths. Hips bounce off his ass and every push inward grinds his own cock into the bed. It’s painful how it is worked into the bed, and far too pleasurable for words. And Benny fucks. Fucks hard.

Quinn feels it, the surge of release building, building, until he is gasping for breath. His body tightens and his cock flexes, then swells thicker. He shudders and jerks with the first ejaculation. The bed becomes slick around his spurting cock as his ass spasms around the cock fucking it.

“Don’t stop, keep going,” Quinn exclaims as his cock spurts wad after wad and his spasming ass takes Benny, the push and tug through it until Benny finally slams into his depths, all the way and shudders with his own release.

 

 

Quinn wonders for just the briefest moment how Benny got him into a different position. It was all a vague and blurred movement and he found himself on his back, legs wrapped around Benny’s waist and cock once again buried in his ass.

“Fuck, I want you,” Benny whispers in Quinn’s ear as he moves in that familiar way, hips pumping cock into Quinn’s depths. “Do you like me?”

“Yes,” Quinn confesses as he rubs his hands along Benny’s back and adjusts his legs until his feet slip down between Benny’s thighs. He feels how Benny moves, the rise and fall of the ass and the lips touching his neck, face, eventually coming back to his own lips. He hungrily kisses back, tongues dueling, then Benny nipping at his lower lip giving it a playful tug. He moans and tries to push his ass up, seeking the penetration.

Benny gets on his knees and pulls Quinn to his all fours, quickly resuming their fuck. The thrusting into the depths of Quinn’s ass, until hips banged against it.

Quinn feels the tight hold on his waist, fingers digging into the flesh. Then one hand slides up his back following his spine until fingers comb through his hair. A fist, a rough tug back, and Quinn’s head is pulled back making him cry out.

“Fuck me.”

As his own cock flops between his thighs, Quinn feels Benny inside him, up against his ass, and tugging on his hair. Their fuck is physical, an exertion that makes them sweat. Quinn is breathing hard. Then he is crying out when the hand lets go of his hair and the other snakes around his waist, rubs over his sweaty skin until it finds his cock. Fingers wrap around it, stroke its full length, and smear its drool over the head and back down the shaft. He shudders with the manipulation.

“Benny…please.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me. Pump it in me. Don’t stop.”

But Benny is too close, right on the edge, and he strokes Quinn roughly with no rhythm as he hammers his ass. Then he comes. Jamming hips against Quinn’s ass, he pushes his spurting cock all the way inside him and keeps jamming his hips against the ass trying to go deeper.

Quinn feels the way Benny comes inside him and it pushes him over the edge. He cries out, pushes back on the spurting cock, then pushes forward through the hand and comes.  

 

The shower runs hot, hot enough to remove cum and sweat and the ache of muscles from their exertions. Quinn has his head under the spray, tilted down with eyes closed, letting the water cascade over his head and down his body. Soapy hands move through the water over his chest, stomach, and half hard cock. He has to brace himself on the wall and finds himself pushing his ass back against Benny’s hardening cock. The cock nestles between his cheeks, and he moans when Benny pumps it upward until rubbing his lower back. He rests his forehead on the wall and reaches back spreading his ass, letting that cock rub over his opening.

Benny chuckles, then presses against his back kissing his neck.

“You want me?” said Benny.

“Yes,” Quinn utters.

The cock centers on his opening, then penetrates him again. It sinks slowly into his depths letting him feel every inch. He pushes back against the abdomen until he has all of the cock.

“Fuck…do it, fuck me.”

Benny holds his waist and begins to fuck. To tug outward, all the way, then punching back through the closing opening boring into his depths. Over and over until in the rhythm of a fuck. Until Quinn has to put his hands back on the wall to brace himself as Benny hammers his ass. His own cock swings freely between his thighs as Benny hammers his ass, and he savors the feel of it, their fuck.

How long it goes on, Quinn has no idea. The water cools and Benny has slowed and sped up numerous times. But far too soon, Benny reaches around his waist and takes him in hand. He is so aroused he shivers with the manipulation, then he shudders with release, painting the wall with cum.

Benny pushes him against the wall, rubbing his cock in the slick of his load, and thrust forcibly into his depths. Then Benny shudders against his back and he knows he is taking another load.

 

 

Quinn opens his eyes and sees it is almost eight o’clock in the morning. Light bleeds through the blinds illuminating the bedroom in a soft glow of morning light. He is intimately aware of Benny nestled against his back with an arm holding them together. It’s an intimacy he had dared not to consider in the past. A warm exhale against his neck and the masculine nature of a morning erection against his ass makes him smile. He lays still not wanting to wake Benny. He’ll let him sleep as long as he wants, then make breakfast and walk him to his car. He pictures the normal nature of it, two lovers parting after a night together.

Benny stirs, pushes against his ass, then kisses his neck.

Quinn pushes back, forgetting breakfast and any notion of walking Benny to his car. He reaches back, slipping his hand down between them taking the hard cock. He holds it at his opening waiting on Benny to push through his tightness. He pictures their sex, the intimacy of it, then he moans as cock penetrates him.

It was inevitable that it would happen—sooner or later. It was building up to sooner. Karim, still, at eighteen, going by the nickname of Kari, had lain in bed in the connecting room at the Dome Hotel in the ancient harbor town of Kyrenia in Turkish Cypriot and listened to the Danish UN soldier fucking his father, Hadid, in the other room. Kari’s inclination was no different than his father’s, and he lay on his bed masturbating to the sounds of his father’s moans, first, as his father’s cries revealed, the soldier taking him forcefully right there on the floor of the bedroom in a doggy position and then on the bed with the headboard of the bed in the next room bouncing rhythmically against the wall and his father bleating how bloody big the Scandinavian was. It was nominally the midafternoon siesta time, a time during the hottest portion of the day that people in the Mediterranean took to their beds to nap. Hadid and Bjorn had taken to Hadid’s floor and then his bed to fuck—and later, Kari heard, in the shower of the other room as well.

None of this was a surprise to Kari. His father had made no bones about vacationing in Cyprus to get laid, and his top of chose was a Scandinavian UN solider—just what he was getting. He’d brought Kari with him because, he said, at eighteen it was time for Kari to go over the top too, no matter what his preference.

It seemed the Dane could go on for hours. Kari’s frustration was that he wouldn’t be with him. Kari was still a virgin to men.

Kari’s father was a Egyptian Arab. His family ran a successful restaurant in London. Kari’s mother was English, but she was off cruising around Norway with her boyfriend, and Kari had been brought on holiday to Turkish Cyprus by his father. The parents weren’t divorced but they quite definitely were separated. This supposedly was Kari’s holiday to celebrate having just turned eighteen. Both parents had declared it was an important time for Kari—his coming of age. His mother, however hadn’t put his special day ahead of what her Norwegian boyfriend wanted to do. Kari rather wondered if his father hadn’t taken up with the Dane just so he would have a Scandinavian too.

Kari’s parents also had a different idea of what coming of age meant. His mother thought of it more in terms of responsibility—pinning down a career and starting into it and moving on from being under her roof. His father was more of a pleasure in bed guy. This perhaps was why the two parents no longer were together. Hadid somewhat resented having Kari dumped on him because his mother wanted to go off with a boyfriend. That probably was why Hadid was in the adjacent room being very vocable about being rough fucked by a UN solider and having Kari just in the other room.

Well, Kari wouldn’t mind having a Scandinavian himself. He was ready to take that step.

Bjorn was a beautiful, blond, hulking UN soldier of twenty-three on vacation himself in Kyrenia from the UN base on the Green Line dividing the capital of Nicosia to the south of the harbor town. In 1986, there was an uneasy truce between the two factions dividing the island, the Greeks to the south and the Turks to the north. Rotating units of neutral UN countries took on the duty to keep the two ethnic communities apart. They sent elite troops of hunky soldiers. Bjorn definitely filled that bill.

Hadid and Bjorn had hooked up while touring the Kyrenia castle, a Byzantine castle nestled inside a Crusader’s Castle, in the harbor earlier in the afternoon. They had exchanged pleasantries in passing each other while exploring the castle. Bjorn and Hadid obviously liked the looks of each other and Bjorn had an eye for Hadid’s dark, sultry, eighteen-year-old son, Kari, as well. Kari, half Egyptian and half British, but all lithe, berry-brown, and handsome sultriness, had been attracting the attention of many Turkish men in the town. He had just the right mix of Europe and the Middle East in him to be seen as exotic by Mediterranean men. Turkish men, in particular, were a randy and demanding bunch. Many of them would fuck anything that moved. The Arab-English youth was ripe for it. For that matter so was his father.

Hadid had spent some of the time teasing Kari about getting laid for the first time. He seemed all for Kari losing his virginity to a man here in Cyprus. “What about that one . . . or that one,” he continuously was saying as they ogled the men who were ogling them.

His father had gone into seeking submissive mode as soon as they had entered Cyprus. With him, it was an often-employed stance. Having just turned eighteen, Kari wasn’t experienced in the male-to-male hookup, but he was more than interested and willing.

Bjorn was sitting at a table by the harbor, drinking beer, when Hadid and Kari came out of the castle. His eyes met with Hadid’s in passing, and an interest and understanding that had been established in the castle was affirmed. Bjorn asked them to sit and drink with him. They happily did so. They chatted amicably during which Bjorn established that Hadid was an active submissive and Kari was uninitiated, along on the vacation because he was celebrating an important birthday and couldn’t be left on his own in London.

Hadid didn’t tease Kari about having his cherry popped by the hunky UN soldier drinking beer with them, so the young man got the message that his father wanted the Dane for himself.

An hour later, they had gone to Hadid and Kari’s rooms in the Dome to escape the heat of the day and to honor the midday withdrawal hours of the locals. Hadid was on his knees, barking at the Dane, making like a dog in heat, and then on his back, legs raised and spread, arms raised over his head, grasping the rungs of the headboard, while the hunky, muscular Dane knelt between his thighs, pounding away in his stretched anal passage and pulling groans and little cries of pain-pleasure out of the Egyptian restauranteur on the make.

Kari was in the other room, on his bed, beating off, and wishing that someday—sooner than later—it would be him under a body beautiful such as the Danish soldier hunk. No doubt while plowing the father, the Dane was giving some thought to wishing—and hoping—to do the son as well. The son was claimed to be a virgin. He would be a delicious first-time lay.

They ate in the harbor next to the bobbing boats and under the strings of fairy lights that night. Kari sat next to the Dane and across from his father. The two older men carried the conversation, but the Dane touched Kari now and again on the arm or the leg and the young man was in heat. He also was watching a muscular and handsome Turk appearing to be in his early thirties closing down the small fishing boat he’d floated into the harbor and berthed right next to the table where Kari and the men were eating. The quay where the outdoor restaurant tables were located edged right up to the water where the boats were tied up.

As he worked, the Turk ogled Kari and Kari ogled him back. The Turk finished his business and came up onto the stone quay rimming the harbor that had been taken over by restaurant tables. He gripped Kari’s shoulder to help climb up onto the land. In doing so he smiled and nodded at Kari and Kari, feeling a surge of arousal, smiled back. He let his hand squeeze Kari’s shoulder for a few seconds longer than necessary and a surge of sexual energy coursed through the young man’s body.

The Turk didn’t leave the area. He moved as far as the opening of an alley beside the restaurant that served the outdoor tables where Hadid, Kari, and the Dane were eating, turned, leaned into the stone of the corner of the restaurant, and stared at Kari.

Not long afterward, Kari said he had to take a piss and left his father and the Dane and went toward the restaurant building across the quay. He didn’t make it there. The big bruiser Turkish fisherman, covered only in coveralls exposing much of his beefy chest, and in rubber boots, pulled Kari into the alley by the restaurant, into the shadows, and pushed him up against the stone wall.

His hands went all over the eighteen-year-old’s willowy body, covering the young man’s face and throat with kisses. The evening was quite warm, and Kari was only wearing shorts and sandals. The Turk grasped Kari under his thighs and raised his legs, hooking them on his hips, trapping the young man against the wall and off the walkway. Kari could feel the size of the hunky Turk’s erection. The youth moaned, ripe for where this was leading. Turkish men were cocky and forward and known to just take what they wanted. Kari thought that might be the best way to give up his virginity to men—to let the man do it all, make all of the decisions.

Was this it, then? Kari thought. Would he go across that divide here, in an alley, with a Turkish fisherman? If so, he was ready.

The Turk was already rocking his pelvis against Kari’s groin, with a hand down there feeling the young man up as well, ready to do a bit or rearranging and fucking him right there, right then, against the wall.

The Arab-English youth was aching for it too. But he could see out of the corner of his eye that his father and the Dane were rising from their table, ready to return to the Dome Hotel and fuck the night away. They’d be coming to look for him. He didn’t want to be the cause of a brawl between men who could best be put to use fucking him.

The Turk noticed the movement too and stiffened.

Kari hissed, “Late tomorrow morning. They are going to Nicosia tomorrow. Here, late in the morning.” He broke away, regretfully, and, flushed and aching for it, joined Hadid and Bjorn for the walk back to the Dome Hotel and to a night of Hadid’s joyous cries that the vigor and size of the Dane were killing him, the periodic rhythmic bouncing of the headboard against the wall in the other room, and Kari jerking himself off again and again, his thoughts alternating between the two hunks—the Turkish fisherman and the Danish soldier.

Either of them would have done to relieve Kari of this burden of virginity to the cocks of men.

It was beyond time, the young man moaned.

* * * *

The Turk’s name was Sami, although they didn’t say much conversationally to each other—didn’t call each other by their names—for the entire time they were together—at least until they were in the throes of fucking. They both had tunnel vision in what they wanted to accomplish. The Turk wanted to jerk the virginity out of the handsome, angelic young man before he could object, and Kari was anxious to get on with it. Most of what Sami conveyed were instructions and demands in the fuck. Most of what Kari verbalized was the pain-pleasure of being relieved of his virginity and then being gang banged. The seasoning to men started right after the initiation. The Turk had put out the “fresh meat” word.

Sami owned a motorcycle as well as the fishing boat and he roared down onto the Kyrenia quay on the bike, beckoned to Kari, and roared back up the hill and the mountain, toward the old abbey town of Bellapais, when the young man hopped on the cycle behind him.

Sami was wearing just coveralls again, although they were white today. They’d been blue the previous night. He had sneakers without socks on his feet. He was hirsute and curly black hair spilled out above the bib of the overalls, around the straps suspending the top on his chest, and in his pits. He was a beautiful man. He had showered and these were probably his best overalls. He’d slapped on too much aftershave, but he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The close-cropped beard looked sexy on him, Kari thought.

All in all, he’d come to party. Kari had whispered to him the previous night in the alley that he’d never had a man’s cock in him, and Sami had come to notch his bedpost with a virgin—and just maybe to make a little cash for himself.

The youth hung on tight behind the Turk as the cycle took the mountain road. Kari encircled the muscular torso with his arms and he lay a hand on the Turk’s basket, which was showing a filling-out life of its own. Halfway up the mountain, the bike went off the road to the east and drove into a vineyard. They came to a stop well inside the vineyard that mounted the mountain in shallow terraces. The spot Sami picked was on one of the terraces, out of sight because of the verdant grape vines from either side and above and with a picturesque view down into the Kyrenia harbor, with its stone castle and then out into the Mediterranean, showing greenish blue water close to land and a deeper blue beyond.

The Turk hadn’t picked the site for its view, though. He’d sought someplace remote, someplace where the wind flowing up from the sea would cover the cries of taking by a virgin.

The deflowering was immediate, a bit bumbling, forceful, and horrific to the virgin, although Kari was keyed up for this, prepared for the first time to be challenging but well wanting to be past the first time. They didn’t speak, but there was a lot of heavy breathing, grunts, and groans from both of them as Sami climbed off the cycle, set the stand, pulled Kari off, and threw the younger man onto the grassy ground between the rows of vines and onto his knees.

The Turk covered the young man from above and behind in a close, controlling embrace. Kari was well-muscled enough but no contest for the Turkish fisherman. The young man was wearing just shorts, briefs, and sandals, and they were stripped off of him in seconds. Similarly, the straps of the Turk’s overall were released, the garment puddled down to the ground, and the Turk stepped out of them and stripped off his briefs in one motion.

Seeing the Turk in erection made Kari shudder and exclaim, “Oh, Shit.” But it wasn’t a “no,” so the Turk kept to the program.

They hadn’t been off the bike for forty seconds before Kari was on his knees, chest and cheek pushed into the grass, and the Turk was on top of him and inside him with no more lubricant than his spit. No condom. The horror of AIDs hadn’t reached Cyprus in 1986, rubbers weren’t considered macho to Turks, and the young man claimed to be pure.

The Turk wasn’t able to stuff himself too far into the youth, though, before he ejaculated from the excitement of taking a gorgeous virgin. Kari howled of the brutal violation when Sami had barely been able to stuff three inches of erection in him. The Turk was built big. In his third withdrawal while battering his way in, he ejaculated, his cum slathering the young man’s hole and smearing on the inner curves of his buttocks.

As far as popping the virgin’s cherry, it was done. Kari was relieved of his virginity to men. This wasn’t satisfying to either one of them, though. Sami pressed his foot to the side of Kari’s head, grasped the young man’s waist between his hands, and gave it a more concerted go, pushing in through the added lubricant of his cum. He managed to sink most of the way in and get of a good dozen pumps while Kari gasped and panted hard, but then he started going soft. His excitement had made Kari’s first time less than stellar.

Kari was a bit disappointed, but he’d known the first time wouldn’t be all that great and he’d wanted to reach and get beyond the first time.

“Önemli değil. öğleden sonramız var—No matter. We have the afternoon,” the Turk said. Kari remained on his knees, cheek to grass, on the ground, panting and trying not to sob.

Sami released Kari and went back to the bike and started unpacking what he’d brought—a blanket, some bread and cheese, and a couple of bottles of wine. Kari rolled onto his back near a row of grape vines and watched the Turk move. His hirsute body was magnificent, Kari thought—muscular and hirsute. The man wasn’t all that handsome, but, to Kari, he was sexy as hell. And he was hung. Kari didn’t know how much of that cock had gotten inside him the first time, but he wanted more of it the next time.

And he wanted a next time, here and now. He wanted the hunky Turk to fuck him until Kari knew he could enjoy it as well as his father obviously did. He wanted this to be the beginning of a lifestyle, not the end of it.

Lying on his back, his feet spread and bent, bare feet pressed into the earth, Kari took his cock in his hand and stroked it. He was hard. He gave Sami a shy, saucy little smile. He wanted the Turk to see him like that. Kari wanted the Turk to know he wanted to take the cock again—hopefully better the next time. After laying out the blanket, the Turk stood over him and smiled down at him, relieved that Kari hadn’t complained about the fumbling of the first time and the fast ejaculation. He took his cock in hand and they watched each other for several moments, each working himself up.

“Tekrar—again,” the Turk growled.

Sami reached down, grabbed Kari’s ankles, and dragged the youth onto the blanket on his back. He spread and bent Kari’s legs, placing his feet flat on the blanket again, and knelt between the young man’s thighs. Leaning over the youth and looking down into his face, he clutched Kari’s throat with his left hand, holding the youth’s head pressed down into the blanket. His right hand went under the young man’s tailbone and his fingers found the hole slathered with his cum. Kari gasped and groaned as fingers entered and worked him. Doing what was natural when this was what the youth wanted, Kari arched his back, lifted his hips to the invading fingers and rocked on them.

“Do it. Fuck me. Put it in. Screw me,” he called out. He wanted to move as quickly as possible past the pain and into the pleasure. He knew there was pleasure. He had heard it from his father while the Danish soldier was fucking him. It was just a matter of experience, of repetition of the act.

The Turk was quite ready for that, though. This time he wanted to do it right. He wanted to get as much pleasure out of this as he could. He wanted the young man to have pleasure too, to worship him, to beg for the Turk’s manly cock.

He’d forget that first time. The sweet piece of tail was still a virgin in his wishes. He would take him properly. Moving both his hands and his lips, Sami worked down the boy’s berry-brown, willowing body, moving his mouth into the boy’s groin and, as Kari groaned, shuddered, and jerked, took the youth’s cock in his mouth. Kari moaned and writhed as the man gave him head, relentlessly working the cock while Kari arched his back and scrabbled his hands at the man’s biceps and then ran his fingers into the black, curly hair on the man’s head, trying, first to push the man away, embarrassed that he might come in his throat and then, with heavy panting holding the man into him, knowing he would come in the man’s throat.

When he had come in Sami’s throat, the Turk worked his mouth and hands up Kari’s body again and moved into position between his legs. Kari was the one encasing the shaft with his hands when he was in position.

“Now, now. Fuck me now!”

“Al onu. Sikimi al!—Take it. Take my cock!”

The Turk slowly forced his way in, spreading the passage with his thick cock, breaching the sphincter, and moving deeper. And then, as Kari moaned, dug his fingernails in the Turk’s biceps, and raised his pelvis to meet the penetration, the cock sank deeper. And then deeper yet.

Kari cried out in a strangled voice, “Yes, yes! Take me!” Then, “Fuck, you’re big! Shit, you’re too big.”

But the Turk’s cock wasn’t too big; it was just right.

“Şimdi seni iyi sikiyorum—I fuck you good now,” the Turk exclaimed. And then he did fuck Kari good.

He wanted to savor this, to prolong it as long as possible, so, when he’d set up a rhythm of plowing, with Kari going with him, moving with the thrusting and murmuring his new pleasure in the act, the Turk showed that he knew how to do this—that he wasn’t the anxious, fumbling fast shooter of the first time, the deflowering, the popping of the virgin’s male cherry. He adjusted the cadence of his thrusts with the sense of the rising of the cum inside him. When he felt he was about to lose control, he suspended the thrusts, and they kissed—on the lips, in the throat, each of them taking a turn in kissing, licking, and nipping each other’s nipples. When he felt the urge to blow taper off, he commenced the thrusting again, causing Kari to gasp, groan, and reach for and squeeze the Turk’s buttocks.

Not all Turkish Cypriots are lovers. Turks are rough, macho men, blessed with good humor but no nonsense in what they take and how they take it. Kari was lucky to have hooked up with a Turk who could also be a lover.

In this way, the dance of the fuck went on for fifteen minutes. Kari was getting the fuck he dreamed about. All good things come to an end, though, and Kari recognized when the Turk’s tensing and jerking was taking him beyond the ability to hold off.

“Now! Now! Give it to me now!” he cried out, clutching the muscles of his passage walls, again and again, to work the man’s shaft.

“Bok! Kahretsin!—Shit! Fuck!” the Turk exclaimed and shot his load—deep inside the youth’s passage.

Both of them panting heavily, Sami rolled off to the side. He turned his head toward Kari and grinned. “Bu iyi oldu. Şimdi dinleniyoruz—That was good. Now we rest.”

He stood, with a groan, and went over to the motorcycle. He broke out a second round of bread, cheese, and wine and brought it over to Kari, who was lying there, stretched out, dazed from the experience. He sat up and took the food and the bottle of wine. Sami had taken a long pull on the wine before handing it to him. As Kari ate and drank, Sami went back to the motorcycle and extracted a bulky mobile phone from somewhere. He looked lustily at Kari while he placed a couple of calls, chattering in Turkish.

He was stroking himself up with one hand while eating and taking long pulls on the second wine bottle with the other. Some twenty minutes later he was in hard erection again.

“Oyun zamanı—Play time,” he said, with a big grin on his face. He sauntered back over to the blanket, swinging the wine bottle, which was only about a third full now. Plopping down beside Kari on his knees, he grabbed the boy’s legs, under his knees, and spread his legs, bending them, and placing Kari’s feet flat on the blanket. He’d thrown the backpack he’d had the provisions in nearby on the blanket and took that now and stuffed it under Kari’s lower back, lifting and rolling up the young man’s pelvis.

Kari cried out, “What the fuck!?” as, kneeling between the youth’s knees, a big grin on his face, the Turk started working the neck of the wine bottle into the young man’s ass. Kari reflexively tried to sit up but Sami slapped him across the face and clutched his throat, holding his head down on the blanket with one hand, while fucking his ass with the wine bottle with the other. The remaining wine in the bottle slushed around inside Kari’s passage and dribbled down his inner thighs. Kari struggled at first, but, realizing that was useless and being overcome with the sexiness of this, he lay back and relaxed as the Turk went ever deeper with the wine bottle in the youth’s passage, pulling it out and then sliding it back in. Out and in. Again and again, as Kari groaned and rocked his hips against the invasion.

After several minutes of this, the Turk had had enough of the game. He pulled the bottle out, rolled over on his back, rolling the young man with him, and put Kari on his cock in the Cowboy position, facing him.

“Fuck yourself,” he commanded, and Kari did as demanded, pressing his fists into the man’s pecs and rising and falling on the shaft.

This was the position they were in when the other Turks—the three men, ranging in age from the twenties to fifties, all lean and well-muscled—arrived on their motorcycles. These were the phone calls the Turk had made. Sami held out his hand while the three men ogled Kari, pleased at what they saw, and put money in Sami’s hand.

Without ceremony, they pulled Kari off Sami’s cock, laid him on his back on the blanket, raised and spread his legs, and while two held him down from the sides each time, they fucked him in the missionary position in rotation, each getting a slice of the first-time youth.

* * * *

The Danish UN solider, Bjorn, was sitting at a table on the Kyrenia quay, drinking beer, when Sami returned Kari on his motorcycle. When Kari had hobbled off the bike and the Turk had roared away, he looked around the quay in somewhat of a daze, taking a few moments to pick out Bjorn.

Bjorn immediately understand what had happened. Kari was shuffling and was disheveled and disoriented, but he was smiling a little grin and he had the glow of satiation about him. Bjorn hadn’t been first. He’d been leery about doing the honors with the young man, although he ached for him and had done the father primarily for the chance to get to the youth.

“Is it done?” he called out to Kari.

“Yes.”

“Are you sorry for it?”

“No. I’m relieved.”

The soldier stood, walked over to Kari, and gently enclosed his wrist in his hand. “Come. Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said in a soothing voice.

When Kari’s father, Hadid, returned to the hotel a half hour later and entered his room, he heard the sounds coming from the adjacent room—Kari’s room. He stood in the doorway briefly, taking in what he was seeing. They were on the bed, at the foot. Bjorn, naked, was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning over it. Two shapely legs—Kari’s legs—were spread and raised, seeming to rise up from either side of the soldier’s hips. Prominent were the soldier’s bulbous butt cheeks, clenching and expanding, clenching and expending, to the cadence of the fuck.

The soldier was taking it slow, giving and taking as much pleasure as he could.

The father absorbed this without surprise. He had known that Kari was ripe for it and about to explode. He had brought the young man to Cyprus to get beyond this beaded curtain into the lifestyle he knew his son wanted—indeed that he himself had chosen. He also had seen the looks Bjorn had been giving the eighteen-year-old youth. Hadid was just glad that he’d been covered by the hunky Dane first.

This must be Kari’s first time, Hadid thought. Bjorn must be popping his male cherry. Well, more power to them, Hadid thought. He came into the room, sat down in a chair away from the bed, unzipped and released himself. He sat there, masturbating, as the Danish hunk plowed his son. The sounds Kari was making assured Hadid that the young man was getting what he wanted. He would wait patiently for his turn—for his turn with his ripe son.